#for a very shitty year nolan always manages to make me smile | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eelistolvanen · 3 years

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Bruises that you left behind - Travis Konecny

A/N: Soo, I recently came up with the idea for this fic. It’s nowhere near finished but I figured I’d post the first part. Let me know if you like it and want more :)

Words: 3k

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, no proofread

Summary: Two years after getting your heart broken by the love of your life, you run into someone from your past life. And you have to face the fact that you can’t run away forever but have to face your past and everything that shattered you. (I know this is vague but I don’t want to spoiler this...)

Italics indicate flashbacks.

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Hannah peaked her head trough the door. “Y/N! You’re still here? Shouldn’t you be at home by now?” She send a confused look. Y/N gave her a soft smile. “I’m just finishing up something, Han. One of my students is a little behind in class and I’m trying to figure out ways to help him. And you’re still here too. ” “You’re too kind for your own good”, Hannah replied with a quiet sigh “I would be long home if it wasn’t for this parent talk I had tonight. You should go home too, it’s late.” “I will, once I finish this” you reply with a glint in your eyes. Hannah knew better than to argue with you. Everyone knew how stubborn you could be. Hannah send you a final wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night Y/N!” “Good night Han!”

You stayed for longer than you probably should have. And you were definitely feeling it the next day. Thankfully you had a free afternoon. So you did what you usually did on a Thursday afternoon. You sat in your favourite little café and were preparing for the upcoming week. While the café still screamed Philly, it was far enough out of the city to be quiet. It felt so local and intimate, nothing like the big, busy city. That’s probably the reason you loved it so much. Most costumers were locals and by now you got to know a couple familiar faces. You had been living in this part of town for about a year now. And while you were reminded of your old life every now and then – flyers jerseys being worn by the locals, banners hanging around your part of town, a familiar face in the newspaper- that life seemed far far away now.

The ringing of the doorbell ripped you out of your thoughts and let you focus back on the computer in front of you. You hadn’t gotten very far today. Somehow you head was somewhere else, definitely not focused on the task at hand. You also hadn’t noticed the man approaching you’re table. Only realising his presence as he slipped into the seat across from you.

“Y’know I knew you couldn’t hide from me forever. I couldn’t believe my eyes the other day, I thought I was dreaming, when I saw you walk out this door.” He hadn’t changed that much in the last 2 years, eyes still as pretty as ever, still wearing that cheeky little smile of his. For a moment you froze, unable to get a word out or even move a muscle. But your wall wasn’t down for long. “What are you doing here, Nolan? This isn’t your part of town.” You cringed at your ice cold reply, but was he really expecting you to welcome him with open arms?

“Well yeah, I admit it was a fluke that I saw you the other day. I’ve been around this part of town a lot recently.”

You really didn’t care about his stories, you weren’t best friends anymore, you couldn’t even consider him a friend really. A stranger with shared memories maybe. It hurt you to pack up your things and get up to leave but you couldn’t sit here and make small talk with Nolan. You might have left that life behind but that didn’t meant that it wasn’t still haunting you. You could see the disappointed look on Nolan’s face once he realised what you were doing. But he didn’t stop you. Of course, he didn’t. Sweet, loving Nolan, he never met you with anything other than kindness. But here you were, walking out on him again.

“You know, I don’t remember us breaking up too, Y/N.” The sadness in his voice was unmistakable.

“Leave it, Nols!” you muttered just as your voice cracked. Tears sprang into your eyes as you left the café in a hurry.

_______________________

The bar was beyond crowded. It was a Friday night and if it were up to you, you’d be curled up on the couch with a glass of red wine. But somehow Hannah and some of your other friends managed to drag you out of your house. Now you were squeezed into a booth, somewhat tipsy, and were listening to your friend Liz complain about some guy. To be honest you were actually enjoying yourself. A night out with your friends was exactly what you needed right now. Hannah looked up behind you, as you felt someone approaching your booth.

“Hey Kelsey, how is it going?” Hannah asked with a smile on her face. You vaguely remember the brunette approaching your table as one of Hannah’s neighbours. You’d seen her around but never really held a conversation with her. “Hey Hannah, hey girls! I’m just dropping this drink off.” She replied as she placed a tall glass in front of you. She gave you a gentle smile. “Nolan said it is your favourite.” It was a Long Island Ice Tea and it used to be your favourite. Not anymore. You accepted it anyway.

“He’s here?” you replied probably a bit to sharp as Kelsey slightly winced. She nodded her head towards the bar. You turned around and looked straight into Nolan’s eyes. As if burned you flinched and turned back around just as quickly. Kelsey gave one last wave before turning towards the bar.

The rest of the night was torture. You wanted nothing more than to get out of the bar and go home. Just as you were leaving the bar, seemingly escaping any other run in with the past, you felt his presence behind you. As soon as you were outside he spoke up.

“Give me a chance, Y/N. I know you’re angry and mad and hurt, but I don’t deserve this. Not this silent, cold shoulder treatment.” You knew he was right. He’d never done anything to you. He let you cry onto his shoulder when your heart broke. When he broke you. Nolan was nothing but supportive, the greatest best friend any one could ask for. And then you walked out of his life, without as much as a goodbye.

You turned around, tears in your eyes. God, it hurt to see him like this. So full of sorrow, so hurt. “I can’t Nolan. I’m so sorry.” With that your voice broke and you turned around and did the only thing you knew. You ran away. Again.

________________________

It was Sunday morning, almost lunchtime as you dragged yourself out of bed. You still hadn’t recovered from this week, let alone from everything that happened the Friday prior. Not feeling like making breakfast you decided you treat yourself to brunch at the café.

The doorbell rang as you entered and you were so hungry you took a beeline straight to the counter. As you ordered your food and paid, you started walking towards your usual table. Only to find it occupied.

“Y/N! Come sit down, we need to talk.” You took a deep breath to steady yourself. “Just let it be, Nolan. There’s nothing to talk about.” But before you were able to fully turn around and find another way out of this, he’d already grabbed your wrists and pulled you towards the table. You let yourself fall into the booth defeated.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Nolan.” You could hear him sight audibly. “Fine, then we’ll talk about something else.” You looked up at him and realised it wasn’t worth fighting him. So you decided to take the lead, at least this gave you the chance to dictate the conversation.

“Soo, you and Kelsey, huh? Are you like together?” You internally cringed at you passive tone. Nolan’s face lit up. “Yeah, she’s great you know. I feel like she could be the one.” Your mood started to lighten up. “That’s good. I’m happy for you Nolan, I really am. I know how much you wanted to meet someone special. The one, huh?” He chuckled lightly. You really were happy for him, if someone deserved all the good things it was Nolan. “When I met her, I just kinda knew, you know?” You stayed silent. Oh, you knew. You knew what it felt like to meet the one. Nolan quickly identified the look of sadness on your face. “I mean, yeah… She means a lot to me.” You gave him a thankful smile. He knew you didn’t want to talk about him. He reached across the table and took your hand in his.

“I just… Y/N, you were my best friend, you still are. Don’t push me away. I know your hurting but I’m your friend.” You knew this was coming. But you still wished you could run away from it. But you couldn’t. Not this time. Nolan didn’t deserve this. “You’re also his friend!” you tried to keep your emotions at bay but it just flowed over. “That’s not fair and you know that. I didn’t just lose one friend that day. I lost two. My two best friends.” His voice cracked and he turned his head to the side so you wouldn’t see his watery eyes. You felt a sudden lump in your throat. You never thought about how he felt. God, you were so selfish. “I’m so sorry Nolan. I was a shitty friend.” He gave you a sad smile. “No, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve what happened. I get why you left. Why you ran away. Get away from it all, let the dust settle, start again. I just always thought that I’d hear from you. Maybe that you would come back even. But I got nothing. No call, no text, nothing. I had to call your sister to know you’re still alive but that was all I got.” You were crying silent tears now, slowly you stood up and moved over to hug him. “God, I’m so sorry Nols. I wanted to, I just couldn’t. I needed to restart my life. And you were such a big part of the life I used to have, I just didn’t think I could handle the pain.” He squeezed your shoulders. “Just promise me not to run from me again. Don’t shut me out, you weren’t the only one hurting.”

That evening you were standing in front of your drawer. It seemed like it took you hours to muster up courage to open it. You hadn’t touched it since you moved in. And you hadn’t touched it’s content in over 2 years. Slowly you pulled it open. A wave of emotions crushed over you. All the memories kept flooding back. In this drawer was all the stuff you weren’t able to throw away. You just couldn’t bring yourself to it. All your memories of your life back then. Your hand moved over it’s content. Until it landed on the little velvet box. You took it out and opened it. Instantly tears started to fill your eyes as the memory came flooding back, knocking you over.

“Y/N, you’re the most important thing in my life, you’re my best decision, my greatest friend and adventure. You’re the love of my life.” Slowly Travis took a knee in front of you and pulled a little velvet box out of his pocket. “I love you so much, Y/N! Will you marry me?” with that he opened the little boy and revealed the most perfect engagement ring. You couldn’t contain your excitement, nearly knocking him over as you tried to kiss him. “Yes, yes, I will marry you!” Thankfully he caught you and lifted you up, kissing you. As he slipped the ring on your finger he softly muttered “I can’t wait to marry you, Mrs. Konecny!”

_________________

The following week was thankfully less stressful. On Thursday, when you had you’re afternoon off, Nolan just so happened to have an off day. He was currently sprawled out on your couch, taking in his surroundings. “I like your place, it’s nice. When did you move in?”

You froze. Your hand was hovering above the water bottle you were trying to grab out of the fridge. You knew you had to tell him the truth. And you also knew he wasn’t going to like it.

“A bit over a year ago.” You grabbed the water bottle and turned towards Nolan, just as you heard him suck in a deep breath. When you looked at him you could see the tension that had risen up.

“A year ago? A year, Y/N?! You’ve been back in Philly for an entire year and you couldn’t even send a text that you’re back?”

God, you hated to disappoint him like that. You knew it was wrong to not reach out to him, he’d done nothing wrong. Still, you didn’t feel strong enough to let someone from your past life back into your new life. You felt like this was the only way to move on.

Before you could reply something, he continued.

“So when were you going to reach out Y/N? I mean eventually you would-“ He paused, studying your face. Of course he would be able to read you like an open book.

“You weren’t.” The utter disappointment in his voice nearly took your breath away.

“No.” Your voice was so quiet, you weren’t he even heard you. He didn’t need to, he already knew the answer. In one swift motion Nolan rose to his feet, taking a few steps towards the windowfront of your apartment. He dragged his hands through his long hair a couple of times before turning back to you.

“Why? I was your best friend Y/N. Why?”

“I already told you Nolan, I couldn’t.” You barely got those words out before Nolan spoke up again.

“But why? I get that you needed time away, that you needed to restart and I also wouldn’t have blamed you if you never returned to Philly. But I just never thought you would cut all ties with me. I always thought our friendship would survive this, that one day at least the two of us would be back to normal.”

You didn’t know how to start. How could you let him down easy with this. How could you tell your best friend that you planned on never seeing him again. Slowly you sat down on the couch and waited for Nolan to join you.

“You have to know I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted to leave you without saying something but I was in so much pain, so angry and hurt I wasn’t functioning properly. And at first I wanted to call you, reach out to you. But I just thought that I needed to have some time by myself for a while. And the longer it took the harder it got. I felt like I had to completely leave this life behind, so I could move on, so that it would hurt less.” Tears were rolling down your cheeks and your vision had started to get blurry. Everything that you had buried deep down was starting to resurface.

“I’m sorry Nolan. But I just felt like I had to leave this life behind me. Everything from this life, him, you, the team, my friends that I’d made here. You were such a big part of my life then, I couldn’t think about you without being reminded of him. So I realized I had to let it go. All of it. Even my best friend.”

You body was shaking with sobs now. Nolan pulled you into his chest, keeping you close. One hand soothingly stroking your hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to be collateral damage, Nolan.” You mumbled into his chest, sobs still raking your body.

You stayed like this for a while. Nolan stayed silent, letting you cry into his chest. It took ages till you felt yourself calm. You had let everything out. Of course you had cried before but not like this. The last time you’d been crying like that was a bit over 2 years ago while Nolan held you close and whispered countless “It’s going to be okay” into your hair. I hadn’t helped though. His words empty promises, that the both of you knew weren’t true. In that moment, 2 years ago, your heart truly shattered. And no matter how hard Nolan tried, there was nothing he could do to fix it. To late, the damage had already been done, just a few hours prior.

“Gosh, you look so beautiful Y/N!” Your sister Lauren tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I still can’t believe this is happening, sis. You’re getting married!” You had never seen you this happy. And you’d never been this happy either. You had dreamed of such a wedding since you were little. Suddenly all your Pinterest Wedding boards had seemed to come alive. You were smiling ear to ear.

There was another knock on the door, like there had been so many others this morning, but you didn’t really realise the new presence until Nolan was approaching you. He had a weird look in his eyes and as he came closer you realised that his eyes were slightly watery. Before you could say anything he had wrapped you in a hug. You felt like he was going to squeeze you to death. As he pulled back you could see the sad smile on his face. Something was wrong.

“You look so pretty, Y/N. My beautiful best friend.” You could see that he was trying to masque his feelings but you knew him all too well. Panic set in.

“What’s wrong?” You searched his eyes for answers but he only had eyes for the ground. “Nolan, what’s wrong? Did something happen to Travis?” The blood in your veins seemed to freeze. Suddenly the room started spinning. Still no answer from Nolan. “Nolan! Please, what’s wrong with him?” Finally Nolan seemed to be ripped out of his trance. When he lifted his gaze up to look into your eyes you could see the tears running down his cheeks. “He’s fine, Y/N. He’s …” “He’s what?” you pushed. You knew from the look in his eyes that the answer was going to shatter you.

He slowly shook his head. “He’s not coming, Y/N.”

Part 2

#travis konecny #travis konecny imagine #travis konency fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #travis konecny x reader #my writing

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spartanguard · 4 years

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even death won’t part us now (2/?)

Summary: Two covens, both alike in dignity, / In fair New York, where we lay our scene, / From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, / Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes / A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; / Whole misadventured piteous overthrows / Do with their death bury their sires’ strife. (Captain Swan + West Side Story + vampires. But not as sad. Probably.)

rated M | part 1 | AO3 | 3.9k words

A/N: I was going to post this update yesterday but *life*. We really get into the story, though—I hope you enjoy it! Thanks again to @optomisticgirl for being an awesome beta; to @thesschesthair for her amazing art; and to @kmomof4 and @cssns for putting this event on and pushing me to continue this story!

say what you will about Glee, but Darren Criss’s version of this song is amazing

part two— the air is humming, and something great is coming...

2020

The sun was setting on another day, just like it had for the last 5000-plus. At least, Emma figured the number was up there; she’d stopped counting around day 4,588. Which was really an absurdly long time to count considering her days were no longer numbered, but old habits died hard, even if she never would.

She’d accepted that fact somewhere around day 4,040, which ironically was her 40th birthday. But instead of dealing with gray hairs and wrinkles and aching joints, she was still in her 28-year-old body, fairly spry and with exactly one white hair blended into her blonde. (Not that she could see it in the mirror anymore—or, you know, anything—but she knew it was there and that was all that mattered.)

She knew she’d finally settled into her new life when she was looking forward to drinking the deer blood she had at home and not longing for chocolate cake like she had the past several birthdays. Well, she still wished she could eat it—real food didn’t digest properly anymore—but the blood sounded just as good.

“It probably took me about that long to come to terms with it, too. Longer for your dad,” her mom had told her about the revelation.

That had been another epiphany: that the kindly undead couple she’d somehow ended up on the doorstep of—David and Snow Nolan—were her parents. Her actual birth parents. You know, the ones she’d been looking for her entire mortal life? (Had once dreamed would save her from one shitty foster home after another until she finally gave up hope, and instead turned to counting the days until she moved again?)

As it turned out, they’d been attacked and turned shortly after she’d been born—which apparently had been in a backwoods cottage in Maine that her grandparents had owned—and were taking her to the hospital for checkup after the fact. They didn’t trust themselves to face their new reality while also in charge of an infant (an infant with delicious-smelling blood, no less—creepy, but true) and so finished the journey to the hospital, but left her there alone.

Coming to terms with that had taken 1,187 days. There would have been lots of tears, were any of them able to cry; but instead, there was just a lot of emotion, which Emma had never dealt well with. But she was getting better. Who knew the kind of personal growth one could achieve after death? And it was a good lesson in how to handle (or not handle) things should the son she herself gave up ever manage to track her down.

(She looked—once, before she was turned. All she’d been able to find out was that he ended up in the foster system, too. She just hoped he was having a better time of it than she did. Well, had—he’d be an adult by now, wouldn’t he? Damn.)

So. Anyways. Sunset. Which Emma was watching from the roof of their building, which had become something of a refuge for her over the past 15 years. She had her own bedroom, but after so long on her own, being an adult suddenly under the same roof as her parents (who, despite being physically younger than her, still acted like her parents) was a bit stifling at times.

It wasn’t much, but it was her own space: she’d cobbled together a tent with some reclaimed tarps, filled with gently-used cushions, and on nice nights, would bring out a sleeping bag and let the lights and sounds of the city wash over her. It had been overwhelming at first—she kind of envied that her parents only had to deal with forest smells when they turned, and not the incredible everything of New York—but it had dulled over time, which she probably should have expected; it had only taken her a week or so to get used to the smell the first time, right?

That’s to say—the overwhelmingness did; she learned to tune things out and let them fall to the background. But her senses themselves were the sharpest they’d ever been, consequently making her even better at her job than she’d been pre-death. Having ethereal beauty compared to a mere mortal easily drew in most of her targets; her preternatural sight, hearing, and strength made it pretty simple to track them down and subdue them (she loved it when they ran); and she’d found out they were extra willing to comply with her demands when they were down a bit of blood. (It probably was connected to the whole your-sire-can-control-you thing but it didn’t last once they’d recovered from the blood loss and it kept her from murdering random ne'er-do-wells on the street; the lower a body count a vampire kept, the better.)

On a normal night, she’d be getting ready to catch another skip: either gussying up for a honeytrap, revving up her old Bug for a stakeout, or trying to track them down on Tinder while binging Netflix in the background (they kept up on technology...for the most part; she still wasn’t sure what a TikTok was). One thing a lot of the stories leave out is that it takes a long time to build up the kind of wealth and decadence you see with old vampires; even Emma’s parents still had to work, 40-odd years into this thing (David was an after-hours vet and Snow taught night school) and their townhouse was not rent-controlled.

Of all the vampire media out there, their existence was far more What We Do In The Shadows than Twilight.

(Emma had always preferred comedy anyways.)

God, she was really getting sidetracked tonight. Anyways. No one was working because it was the anniversary of her being turned—her rebirthday, so to speak—and her mom was very much Leslie Knope when it came to anniversaries, but especially this one, given that it marked them finally coming together as a family.

That, and they were all going to get drunk.

“My class is a bunch of assholes this semester—I need this,” Snow had gushed earlier that week, grading papers behind their blackout curtains. (Vampires didn’t sparkle, thank god—at least, not without the help of glitter—but they were dangerously susceptible to sunburns, so the whole pale thing was accurate.) “And David—you’ve worked every weekend the last month; they can definitely operate without you for one night.”

“I put in for it a month ago, dear,” he tutted as he gathered the laundry, placing a kiss on her cheek as he went.

They were definitely one of those nauseatingly cute couples, so it was a good thing Emma’s gag reflex was dormant. And, though she’d never admit it, she was a bit jealous that they’d been able to find—and keep—something that had evaded her her entire mortal life, and likely would for her afterlife, too.

Every now and then, a flash of blue eyes blinked into her vision; the same pair she’d seen on the night she transitioned. She still wasn’t sure they were real, and her parents genuinely knew nothing when she’d asked, so she never did again. The fact that she hadn’t ever seen them again, despite knowing just about all the vampires in this part of town (for better or worse), had her pretty convinced it was a mania-induced hallucination. But damn, was it a good one.

“Emma, are you ready?” Snow’s voice pulled Emma from her daydreams (nightdreams?). “It’s time to go,” she shouted—not loud enough to annoy the neighbors, but enough for Emma to hear.

“Coming,” she replied, then took one last glance at the night sky. Maybe there was something different in the stars? She didn’t know; she just had this feeling that something was going to change tonight.

She brushed her hands down the skirt of her light pink dress; it wasn’t what she’d usually wear, but since this wasn’t her typical honey trap, she’d borrowed a dress from Snow. It was definitely sweeter than her taste, with its pastel color and A-line skirt, but just cut low enough to not be demure. Her high ponytail fell somewhere in between. Her fangs would probably take it in another direction, but it’s not like she was going to pose for photos—she only just showed up in those.

In a moment, she was back in the house, grabbing her purse and joining her parents (who equally straddled the line of sweet and seductive; it was a vampire thing).

Out of nowhere, a flash of light blinded her. “Seriously?” she cursed, blinking away the temporary blindness, only to see her mother holding a Polaroid camera. That was the one thing that could document them; thank god the hipsters over in Greenwich Village had clung to them.

Snow just grinned and shook the picture while David lectured, “It’s not like we got to see you off to prom or anything.”

“Yeah, but are you going to do this every year?”

“Yes,” Snow stated matter-of-factly, smiling at the photo before setting it aside. “Now come on; there’s a bloody mary calling my name.”

“Where are we going?”

“That new underground club at 43rd and 10th. Figured we should try it, and it should be trouble-free.”

‘Trouble’ meaning the Aurum coven. Emma still hadn’t figured out the reason for this centuries-long blood feud, but she did know that she’d been dragged in on the side of Coroza, under a woman named Cora; turns out Walsh had been one of her cronies. And it normally wouldn’t affect her, save for the fact that her parents were turned by someone in Aurum (led by the mysteriously mononymed Gold) and that had dangerous implications, not to mention the rising tensions between the two groups as they began to encroach on each other (and each other’s feeding grounds) on the Upper West Side.

“You sure? That’s awfully close.” 43rd had become an arbitrary border between the two factions, and there had been more than a few skirmishes while people were on the prowl for a midnight snack. She’d had a couple close calls of her own while tracking down skips in the part of town, but had somehow managed to evade notice.

“It’s on our side of the street,” her mom shrugged in response and grabbed her purse.

(Why one side couldn’t just move to another part of town, Emma didn’t know, but she was definitely aware of how stubborn vampires could be. And she wasn’t going to move; there’s no way they’d be able to get a place like this anywhere else for a reasonable price.)

She’d hardly gotten out the door when a familiar scent caught her nose—and not necessarily a welcome one: Graham.

“Uh, hi, Emma,” he stammered, while giving her a shy yet adorable grin.

“Hey,” she answered back, not meeting his eyes—and instead finding Snow’s, who was intently studying the sky. Snow had been trying to get the two of them together for at least 10 years, and while Graham was a great guy, a good friend, and handsome to boot, Emma had never been attracted to him like that. A fact that seemed to keep falling silent on Snow’s ears despite her enhanced hearing.

(His blue eyes were pretty, but they weren’t the pair that kept haunting her.)

Given the sudden awkwardness that settled over the group—because that was apparently something you had to deal with whether you were dead or alive—it was up to Emma to break it. Not that she had any skill in that department.

“Alright, uh, let’s go,” she said with little confidence, and set off towards the club, with the others falling in behind her; Graham stayed close and if she wasn’t mistaken, attempted to put an arm around her, but she walked a bit faster to avoid his reach. The bar was only a few blocks away, which they could normally cover in less than a minute, but they had decided to blend in with the crowd tonight; it was nice to be normal every now and then.

But still—every now and then, the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck rose, and it had nothing to do with Graham’s proximity. Something was coming; she just didn’t know what.

That wasn’t for her to worry about tonight, though. Tonight was for fun and drinks and dancing. And once they got to the darkly-lit club, that’s what she focused on for the next hour or so—

—Until her gaze locked with the blue eyes from her dreams.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Killian took a deep breath as soon as he exited the jetway—and immediately regretted it. He didn’t know why he expected LaGuardia to have changed at all in the past 15 years. Despite all the reconstruction, it still smelled the same: of old coffee, questionable sushi, and stale humans. (The latter was a double-edged sword: despite eating shortly before he got to Heathrow, there had been a few delays before takeoff and he was feeling rather peckish now, although nothing here seemed appetizing. Which was probably something he had in common with mortals at the moment.)

He didn’t know why he’d assumed that he might have been routed through JFK this time—why would he think Gold would care enough to properly welcome home his best operative from abroad after 15 years?—but he tried to push that ire to the back of his mind as he summoned an Uber.

At least the delays meant he landed just as the sun was setting; his previous plan had been to hang around the terminal until dusk, so at least this prevented any awkward encounters with some overtalkative Midwesterner on their way back to Cleveland. Signs pointed him to the ride share lot, and a gentleman named Marco was waiting to take him home.

On the ride into the city, he marveled at how New York always seemed like a living, breathing thing, constantly evolving and changing. He could still sharply remember the dusty bustle of the town more than 200 years ago, the sound of carriages running over dirt and cobbled streets. He’d watched as the city grew, sprawling both across and beyond the Manhattan island and up into the sky, the smell of horses and people and sweat replaced by the acrid stench of exhaust (although, even his extra-sensitive nose had gotten used to it in short order).

So it was both surprising and not to see how much the city had changed even in the last 15 years, most noticeably in the skyline: the Twin Towers were still fresh in everyone’s memory when he’d left, so to see the new One World Trade Center in their place was a bit jarring. But the sun still glinted golden off the skyscrapers the same way; pedestrians still hardly waited for the crossing signals to give the okay to go; and though he wasn’t in a yellow cab, a language barrier still lay between him and his driver.

Cash tips were understandable to all, though, which Killian handed over once they’d arrived at his apartment building on 34th—the Chelsea side. He’d owned his flat since the building was constructed, which was fairly impressive, but did require him to occasionally change the name on the paperwork lest anyone notice anything suspicious.

(Someone had figured out at some point that it was helpful to have an ally in both the Social Security office and the DMV; Archie and Jefferson traded off every 20 years or so in order to help create revolving identities for the members of the vampire community. The name on his ID at the moment was Kyle Johnson, and during the past 100 or so years since he’d been required to have one, he’d also been Killian James, Ian Joseph, and—though he had to admit, he’d picked this one just to see if he could get away with it—James Hook.)

And thankfully, he’d had a reliable roommate for the past 80 years. “Honey, I’m home,” he called out after braving the still-shaky lift to the top floor.

“About bloody time,” Robin called back from the couch. “You know I had dinner ready for you before you left?”

“Ha,” Killian answered. “I’d hate to see what that looks like after all this time.”

“Oh, I let him go. And good thing, too—he ended up writing Hamilton.”

Killian had barely poked his head into his musty bedroom before he returned to the living room. “You didn’t actually have Lin-Manuel Miranda in here, did you?” To most people’s surprise, Killian was a bit of a theater nerd; the West End was great, but he was looking forward to catching up on Broadway again.

“No. But maybe that’s a good strategy if we want to get tickets.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

His stomach grumbled in agreement.

Robin chuckled. “There’s a bottle in the fridge you can have; figured you’d be hungry when you got back.”

Killian tossed his luggage in his room and emerged again. “Have I ever mentioned that I love you?”

“Maybe a few times over the past several decades.”

He downed the bottle quickly; the black blood market never gave the best stuff—considering the type of mortals who would be willing to sell their blood for money and didn’t qualify to sell plasma—but it hit the spot in a pinch, and every now and then had something good. This definitely wasn’t, but it sated his thirst long enough to take a shower and wash the airplane off of him.

As he stared at the fogged mirror with nothing looking back at him, rubbing his palm over his permanently well-trimmed scruff, he realized he hadn’t yet checked in with Gold. Even if he’d spent the last decade-plus doing the man’s bidding from abroad, it was still easy to forget about him.

Well, mostly—until he glanced back down at his blunted left wrist. Then it just brought ancient memories to the surface, as fresh as the day they’d happened, no matter how many centuries had intervened.

Which reminded him: he was still missing something. He shot off a quick missive to Gold as he pulled some clothes out of his depressingly dated closet (having left anything more modern in a consignment shop in London), managing to put together something vaguely timeless. But before he dressed, he turned his attention on the nightstand drawer.

He slowly pulled it open, though he knew what would be inside: his hook, as sturdy and sharp as ever, with its well-worn leather brace. Sure, he had a fairly modern prosthetic hand—one that TSA didn’t mind so much—but the hook had come first, and was definitely his preferred artificial appendage. He hadn’t meant to go so long without it, but then again, he hadn’t expected his London assignment to take so long.

(Although, 15 years to him was roughly the same as 2 or 3 to the average mortal.)

Slipping on the soft leather was like greeting an old friend (well, another one, albeit he’d known this one longer than Robin). And snapping in the hook settled a part of him that he hadn’t realized had been adrift all these years. It didn’t fully still the odd sense of anticipation he’d had ever since he landed, but he definitely felt more at ease.

With that settled, he finished dressing and then headed back to the living room and flopped on the sofa next to Robin. “When did we get a new couch?” he asked indignantly, inspecting the unfamiliar upholstery.

“As soon as you left.”

“And what was so wrong with the previous one?”

“It was from the 70s! It was hideous and uncomfortable and you know it.”

Killian could only sigh; Robin was completely right.

“Anyways,” Robin continued. “We’ve plenty of time to argue about furniture but very little to decide what we’re doing tonight.”

“Why? What’s tonight?”

“You arrive back in North America for the first time in a decade and a half and you think that’s not a reason to celebrate?”

“Well, I was in Toronto a few years ago.”

“Still the Commonwealth. Doesn’t count. What do you want to do? There are quite a few people anxious to see you.”

Well that’s good for them, he thought, but he wasn’t so sure of the same. The time away in the UK had definitely made him reconsider some of his connections back here in the States; getting away from the drama with Coroza had made him realize how petty he found it all. Though he’d never be completely extricated given that Gold was his sire, he’d definitely be alright with staying distant from the other frivolous disputes.

(And after spending a bit too much time in Brighton—particularly with some headstones bearing the name Jones and some rather divy taverns that were still somehow open all these centuries later—he wished more than ever to be free of Gold’s influence. Alas.)

He supposed he could placate them for one night, though; it’s not like he was going to sleep anyway. “Are there any new clubs to check out?”

“For you—plenty. For all of us...aye, there’s one that’s just opened up about...10 blocks away? Ish?”

“In which direction?”

“Up, but kind of midtown so it should be in the clear.” Meaning no one from Coroza would be there.

“Sounds fine, then,” he replied; after so many years, every club started to feel the same, but he was willing to give it a shot.

It wasn’t long before he found himself dressed in a waistcoat and slacks that were trendy a decade ago, hoping his hair was styled appropriately (he stopped caring about 130 years ago), and waiting outside the apartment building of Robin’s girlfriend Regina.

“Jones, it’s the 21st century; why do you still have a fish hook on the end of that arm?” she greeted when she emerged from the tower, with a young vampire behind her.

“It’s nice to see you too, Regina,” he tossed back. They’d known each other for well over a couple hundred years and this was just how they communicated. Nodding at the young man, he continued, “Who’s this?”

“This is Henry; he’s new.” The statement was matter-of-fact enough that Killian knew she wouldn’t say anything else. But he seemed friendly, albeit nervous, and Gold never complained about new vampires on their side—just Coroza.

It didn't take much for him to immediately think of Emma. His thoughts had drifted to her more than he cared to admit over the past years, wondering if she’d acclimated or if she’d burned out. It was definitely odd that such a brief encounter had left such a lasting impression, but at the same time, it had taken him well over 250 years to get over his first love; he was a romantic at heart, even if that heart no longer beat.

He of course said nothing about it as they continued on; if no one had discovered what he’d done that night by now, he was content to leave it that way. There were other ways of him finding out if she was still around, such as—

—Such as the green eyes staring at him from the other side of the club, barely a minute after he’d entered it, freezing him in place.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading, friends! let me know if you want/don’t want a tag! @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda

#cs ff #cssns20 #cs vampire au #even death won't part us now #my ff #cssns 2020

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captcas · 4 years

Text

Worth Fighting For

WORTH FIGHTING FOR by capthamm

Killian “Hook” Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma “The Savior” Swan’s career was cut short. When Hook’s manager moves up and the office brings in UFC’s youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it?

read on ao3 // tumblr: ch 1/ ch 2

[CHAPTER 3/?]

Saturday night brings their monthly movie/game night and Emma has never been more grateful for a distraction. Ruby and the Nolans will come over around 6 o’clock and Henry is practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. Tonight’s theme is Star Wars and this will be Henry’s official introduction to the series; at David’s insistence they’re starting with A New Hope and going release order from there. They’re also going to play Star Wars trivia which Henry will undoubtedly suck at.

Should be a fun night all around.

And it was, until Henry went to bed and the “adults” got to talking.

Ruby cracks another beer and turns to Emma, “So, Emma, you’ve got probably the coolest new job in the world and you haven’t said jack shit.”

She shoots Ruby an icy glare as David and MM stop bickering over whether or not Kylo Ren deserved a redemption arc to hear what Emma has to say.

Emma sighs, “It’s going alright. All the onboarding is underway and between the perks, benefits, and pay, Henry should be set for life.” She’s been fortunate to live off her winnings for the past nine years, being mindful of money and not giving into the lifestyle of frivolous spending many fighters take on, but -even her friends know- she doesn’t have a money tree.

The looks on their faces when she mentions Henry being set for life could melt 1000 Olafs. When she arrived at Ruth Nolan’s home at the age of 16, she never expected to find a family. Hardened by a life too lived for anyone her age, Emma assumed they’d be like every other foster home and use her for the money. To this day, she’s never been so happy to be wrong.

Emma’s not sure what twist of fate landed an orphan with such a great support system, but she’ll be forever grateful. David took to the “protective brother” role immediately. Soon after Emma moved in, he met Mary Margaret (fireworks and butterflies and all that mumbo jumbo) who introduced them to Ruby. They’re small, and maybe a bit scrappy, but they’re family.

She breaks out of her thoughts and returns to the present, “I will need some babysitting though; I’m required to attend each of my client’s Fight Nights. But overall it’s great, really!”

She hopes she squeaked away without having to mention Jones at all but the glint in Ruby’s eye tells her otherwise. “Ok that’s all fine and dandy,” Mary Margaret shoots Ruby an incredulous look, warning her to tread carefully, but Ruby ignores her and continues, “but who’s the client?”

David is giving her a protective father vibe, Ms is practically vibrating, and she's pretty sure Ruby is salivating. Emma sighs realizing she shouldn’t postpone the inevitable, “Killian Jones.”

Ruby practically drops her drink and Mary Margaret squeals, David rolls his eyes and turns back to the TV where SportsCenter has been playing in the background. Mary Margaret beats Ruby to the punch, “THE Killian Jones?! As in Killian “Hook” Jones?!”

Emma nods, standing up to refill the only slightly empty chip bowl in front of her. She knew this was going to happen and she wasn’t exactly looking forward to her friends thirsting over her client– client… right.

Ruby speaks next, “Well that is probably the best case scenario. Do you think he can get us tickets? Have you met him? Is he as gorgeous in person as he is on TV? Can we meet him?”

Emma, now glad she’s in the kitchen with space to breathe, is starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. She knows Ms can sense it and is unsurprised when she speaks next,“For Christ’s sake Ruby let her breathe. She’s probably only had her initial meeting with him.”

Ruby seems to get the hint and it doesn’t take long before Ms is in the kitchen helping Emma pick up the leftover pizza, “We’re happy for you, Emma. He’s a huge client for them, they obviously trust you to do a good job.” Emma nods in thanks and they both head back into the living room. Her sister-in-law’s warmth always calms her (and Ruby) down which allows David to jump in and change the subject to the coverage of some football player’s arrest on SportsCenter. Emma finally catches a breath and realizes just how lucky she is for the friend dynamic they have before settling in to debate if this James Spencer kid should still be eligible for the draft.

As she lays in bed that night, Ms’ words ring through her head. Despite the rollercoaster of emotions she’s been feeling, Killian is a huge client, one that was formerly represented by a namesake for the company. This re energizes her a bit and helps her fall asleep, actually excited for what's to come.

She wakes up Sunday morning and makes Henry some pancakes and declares it a lazy Sunday. Henry happily obliged, cuddling up on the couch with The Deathly Hallows while Emma threw on some shitty reality TV.

. . .

When her alarm rings Monday morning, Emma pulls her pillow over her head like some teenager from one of those Disney Channel movies.

It takes her a second to remember what day it is and why she’s up at this godforsaken hour.

Killian Jones. Right.

She audibly groans before rolling out of bed and getting ready for the day. Between her shower and breakfast she gets Henry up. School starts at 8 so he’s technically running a bit behind but he’ll make it on the bus in time… hopefully.

She’s pouring him a bowl of cereal when he comes out of his room zipping up his sweater and rubbing his eyes.

“Hey, kid. Coco Puffs or Fruit Loops?” He mumbles some semblance of what she thinks is Fruit Loops so she pours the bowl and slides it across the kitchen island. He smiles in thanks as she pours her own bowl and sits beside him.

“So today’s the big day?”

She didn’t tell Henry about her new client and when she spoke to the Nolan’s and Ruby, he was definitely supposed to be sleeping. “How could you possibly know that?”

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are and I’m not as tired as you think I am.” He yawns as if to punctuate his point.

“Uh huh, sure, kid.” He gives her a knowing glance and she realizes she’s not getting out of this. She runs her hands over her face and sighs, “Yes, today is the first meeting and I’m only slightly nervous to fu— screw this whole thing up.”

Henry chuckles at her attempted censorship (she never said she was a perfect parent), “You’ll be great, Mom, and Hook seems like a decent enough guy. I’m sure he won’t give you too much trouble.”

She stares at Henry a bit dumbfounded. It shocks her everyday how old he’s getting– nine going on nineteen for sure. “Are you hiding some Weasley’s Extendable Ears in your room or something? Are you a wizard? Should you be at Hogwarts?” Emma is very obviously trying to derail this conversation but it works, setting Henry off about how he’s finally on the sixth book and explaining the concept of a horcrux.

Oh, her sweet summer child.

God, maybe he is old enough for UFC.

When did that happen?

She ushers Henry to the bus, promising him they’ll watch the sixth movie tonight if he finishes the book today and is to school on time. It’s only September and he can’t be late three times in the first month of school. She kisses his forehead and he wishes her good luck.

Sometimes she wonders how such a screw up ended up with the perfect kid.

After cleaning up the kitchen, Emma finishes getting ready. She jumps on the subway and finds herself at the office with a half hour to spare. She’s never early so she chalks it up to nerves and uses the time to prep for this meeting.

Over the weekend she received multiple emails from Gold’s team surrounding a possible spot for Killian on the card for the pay-per-view Fight Night in November.

A pay-per-view card. She did enough research about Killian this weekend to know that would be his first.

Emma feels like she’s been thrown into the deep end before being taught how to swim.

Go big or go home.

She did a lot of research about Killian and learned practically nothing. She knows he came here from London almost ten years ago and that his team includes his head trainer Robin (husband of now former manager Regina Mills), and three other men named Will Scarlett, August Booth, and William Smee (he’s really selling it with that whole Hook theme). Other than that all she found was his record and highlights. He’s 6-0 which is insane for only being in the circuit for a year and a half– fighters are usually limited to three, maybe four fights a year.

4 of his 6 are knockouts.

He’s good… really good.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a light tapping on the edge of her cubicle. She glances up to find none other than the man himself. She can’t help but double take.

Real professional, Emma.

She's only ever seen him in the ring, at the gym, or dressed up for a business meeting. She’s not sure what she expected, but a leather jacket and pants that fit him like his own skin definitely weren’t it.

He looks good… really good.

Emma snaps herself out of it, “Hi, Mr. Jones, just give me a moment and we can head to the conference room.”

“It’s Killian, love, please.” She notices he winces at the seemingly habitual pet name. Emma ignores the ring of disappointment that runs through her gut at the realization that it may not be reserved for her. “A conference room’s a bit formal, don’t you think? Let’s get out of here, Swan.”

He grabs her hand before she can answer. “Mr.— Killian. Is this allowed?”

He chuckles. “We can plan the meetings at our leisure,” he says the last bit in an almost scary imitation of Regina, “but even still, Regina and I never met in office. A bit silly for two people to take up an entire conference room, yeah? Come on, lass, try something new. It’s called trust.”

Emma rolls her eyes but follows along anyway. The elevator ride should’ve been awkward but Killian kept the conversation flowing by asking her preferred drink. “Coffee, tea, or smoothies?”

Despite the risk of sounding like a child, Emma finds herself being honest with him, “Uhh, I actually prefer hot chocolate… with cinnamon.”

He smiles brightly at her, as though her drink order was the most brilliant discovery this century, “Perfect, Swan. I know just the place.”

She was so swept up in his ambush, she doesn’t realize that this isn’t the cocky, asshat Killian Jones she sees on tv or at the gym until he’s practically dragging her across the street to a small cafe. This Killian seems genuine and carries this almost childlike excitement.

Emma tells herself she has no interest in learning more about this Killian.

(Emma doesn’t have to tell herself that that is complete bullshit.)

. . .

He can’t stop himself from beaming when she offers up her drink order without hesitation. Killian feels like a bloody teenager around her. He promised himself he wouldn’t feel this way again, but something about Emma Swan has completely entranced him.

He finds himself fascinated with every part of her, including the small things, like the fact she takes cinnamon on her hot chocolate.

Once they get to the cafe across the street, Killian forces himself to dial it back. He can tell she’s guarded and as much as he’d like to be friends (more than friends) with the lass, he knows business has to come first.

It wouldn’t exactly be a good look for him if he ran “The Savior” out of the office on her second day.

Somehow he thinks he doesn’t have that power.

He’d like to. (Obviously not to run her out of the office, but he’d like his existence to mean that much to her.)

Bloody hell, he's being ridiculous.

They sit down across from each other at a small table by the window. He expects to start the conversation but before he can form a coherent thought she’s speaking.

“So, Killian. I’ve already received some correspondence from Gold’s team. I’m not sure how much time you usually take between fights and I know it’s already the end of September but…”

She’s rambling and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anybody so adorable when they’re nervous.

Adorable is not a professional descriptor.

Killian Jones doesn’t want “professional” with Emma Swan.

Fuck.

“...Gold is hoping to get you on the main card for November 14th.”

Did she just say main card?

He chokes on his coffee.

“Main card, Swan? I’ve never been on the main card. Strictly early prelims…”

She eyes him suspiciously, “Usually that’s a good thing. Upward momentum and all that. His team is clearly impressed by your dominant record.”

“Is his team the only one impressed?” The flirt escapes him before he can stop it.

Bloody idiot.

She doesn’t even bat an eye, “The entire league seems to be impressed, Jones.” Her tone tells him she knows what just happened but she shut it down immediately.

He likes a challenge.

Emma Swan may be his favorite challenge yet.

Emma Swan is off limits, but Killian will be damned if he cares.

. . .

Emma is surprised when Killian pays for their drinks despite her insistence that she can charge it to Mills Management. She’s also surprised by how nice he is.

She keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She’s still waiting.

He’s definitely flirtatious, every other sentence being easily twisted into some sort of innuendo, but she can tell it’s a front. The little things he does like tipping the barista an extra fifty cents or holding the door for her, let on to the man behind the persona.

Well, and the fact he practically chokes when she tells him they want him for the main card.

He seems genuinely shocked that anyone would be impressed by him. His mask comes out almost immediately, another innuendo laced into his question. She doesn’t let him go there, shutting it down as quickly as it started. For this to work, she needs him the real him. Not the cocky MMA fighter who he used to catch the eye of UFC execs. She compliments him, and it’s beyond genuine. That seems to calm his nerves a bit as they move into social media management and he shifts into a professionalism she’s not entirely prepared for.

She’s not sure she wants professional Killian Jones.

Whoa, Emma, pump the breaks.

She shakes it off as she watches him take notes on what she’s saying about the importance of a lead up on Twitter and how it can set the tone for the entire fight. His tongue runs along the inside of his lower lip as he concentrates and she can’t help the overwhelming wave of attraction that hits her.

Like lightning.

It’s not just the tongue, (but that’s not helping) it’s his dedication to this sport and how he actually gives a fuck about what she’s saying. Killian never displayed even a hint of the deeply rooted misogyny that runs rampant throughout the industry. He actually seems almost humbled by her presence. The words escape her mouth before she can’t stop them, “Why are you actually taking anything I say seriously?”

Very professional, Emma. Way to instill confidence in your client. Smooth.

His head snaps up at her abrupt question and he looks confused. “I know you don’t like being called a legend, Swan, but you were a damn good fighter. If I walk out of this partnership with half the following and success you had, I’d call that a win.”

She’s stunned by his sincerity.

Brick. Wall. (She thinks she hears Pink Floyd somewhere in the distance.)

“And I suppose you think you know all about me from our, what, three conversations now?” She knows it’s snippy, that’s the point.

He stops typing and puts his phone down. “Pardon me, love, but you’re a bit of an open book.”

Emma scoffs, “Anyone with the internet knows I prefer people don’t call me a legend.”

“Aye, but do they know it’s because you feel too young with a career too short to have made an impact? That you feel choosing yourself, a life, over MMA removes all glory from your name?”

Emma is entirely shaken by his apparent ability to read her like a fucking picture book. (Does that even make sense? Do you read picture books?) Emma never had a formal retirement ceremony; gloves in the middle of the ring and all that. She had asked Gold to be taken off the roster and for a quiet exit and that’s what he’d given her. The public doesn’t know the real reason she left MMA, her attempt at keeping Henry’s life as normal as possible, but somehow Killian–

Brick. Brick. Brick.

“Let’s talk about Instagram.” She sees the disappointment sweep across his face, realizing she can read him pretty well too. That’s terrifying.

Way more terrifying than social media plans.

They keep it strictly business for the rest of the meeting. She’s startled when her stomach rumbles and she checks the time.

12:00. They’ve been strategizing for three hours.

She’s not sure where the time went, and when Killian asks her if she wants to grab a bite to eat together, she’s startled again by her initial gut reaction to say yes.

Obviously, she says no and makes up some lie about needing to get back to the office. He knows it’s a lie, she can see it all over his face. He doesn’t push her though, and she’s grateful. They set their next meeting and Emma’s heart speeds up, seemingly unaware that this is a business meeting and not a date. She shakes his hand and promises to have a full plan ready for Thursday before practically sprinting out of the cafe.

In three conversations Killian Jones has gone from asshat to… who knows. One thing Emma does know is that Killian Jones is off limits to the highest of ethical degrees. But what scares her most, is that she’s not entirely sure she cares.

. . .

As soon as he asks her to lunch he knows he’s pushed too far.

Actually, he perhaps pushed too far by letting on just how easy it was for him to read her, but lunch, well that was just asking for a brick wall. He runs his hands across his face, completely taken with someone he has no right to. She’s witty, smart, and could probably kick his ass— scratch that, could definitely kick his ass— but she also has demons, he can see them swimming behind her eyes. Demons that seem scarily similar to his, maybe not on the surface but definitely in their damage. Emma is raw and unapologetic; a real human being who is, for all intents and purposes, unimpressed by the suave persona of Killian “Hook” Jones.

She’s bloody perfect.

He’s fucking fucked.

Eloquent.

Killian decides to grab a quick lunch from the cafe and head to the gym. He has a lot of pent up frustration and really feels the need to punch something. Thank god that’s his job. He scarfs down his sandwich, not realizing how hungry he was and jumps on the subway to the training center. He miraculously finds a seat and is able to scroll through his phone a bit. As he pokes around Twitter he finds an article announcing Emma “The Savior” Swan’s comeback to the UFC. He clicks on it, curiosity getting the better of him despite probably knowing the gist of the article.

He didn’t expect a timeline of her very impressive career:

2008: Swan joins the UFC with her Boston gym. Her debut match against Aurora Rose ended in a TKO. She’s back in action six months later fighting Ella Tremaine. She wins again, this time after three rounds by split decision.

2009: A dominant start to the year for The Savior with a first round submission against Tiana Dampier in January. She rounded out her year with another first round submission against El Oldenburg in May, and a third round knockout against Esmerelda Gringoire in October.

2010: Swan goes three rounds with Merida Baer and wins by unanimous decision. Swan wins again after three rounds by split decision against Megara Alcmene. The Savior’s final match is a KO against Mulan Fa rounding out her record to 8-0. Her next match, meant to be for the women’s title, was declined with no comment from The Savior.

2020: Swan joins Mills Management as a talent manager assigned to Killian “Hook” Jones.

Killian knew Swan was good, an early legend in her own right, but he had no idea she was this dominant. He also had no idea she left without so much as a wave goodbye. He figured he’d just missed the announcement seeing as it came well before his introduction into the sport. Against his typical moral code, he tries to google why she left but finds nothing. She knocks out Mulan Fa and then just stops being added to cards and fades away as new fighters take her place.

He knows there’s a reason for her secrecy and he’d be lying if he said curiosity was the only driving force behind his attempt to learn more. He finds himself wanting to know everything there is to know about Emma Swan; a deeper part of him aches for her to be the one who tells him.

He’s positive he can only dream of gaining that level of trust from her, but he has to try. Liam's words ring heavy in his ears, "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets."

He gets off at the stop closest to the training center and walks through the front doors, waving to Belle at the front desk before heading into the locker room. He’s fortunate to be on the UFC roster, allowing him to keep his training gear at the center and not have to worry about lugging it around with him. It also gives him the freedom to come here whenever he needs to let off some steam. He changes quickly and finds a treadmill to warm up. He jogs a mile and a half before picking up the pace. Killian’s in the midst of his runner’s high when someone steps into the machine next to him. He turns his head to offer them a small smile in hello, it’s not that big of a gym, exclusive to the UFC industry and a few friends of friends, so chances are he knows the person at least in passing.

Oh, Killian knows them alright, and he practically falls off the treadmill when he sees her green eyes blown wide.

#Captain Swan #cs ff #cs modern au #emma swan #killian jones #capthamm #worth fighting for

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (32/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: all of my thanks to all of you for reading these words and enjoying them and to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading all of these words beforehand to make sure they make sense ❤️

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings

-/-

Killian’s shoulder is stiff when he wakes up. It’s not necessarily painful which is more than good considering how it’s been for a few weeks now, but it is definitely stiff. He’s sure that it has to do with spending most of yesterday stuck in a car with the Nolans because there were photographers waiting for him at the airport, and he immediately told David to turn around because he was not going in there with vultures waiting for him like that.

That decision may as well have screwed up his shoulder that little bit more, but sitting in the safety of Mary Margaret’s SUV is probably exactly what kept his mind intact.

No one in that car asked him any questions about his dad or his injury or Milah. No one there brought up everything he’s trying to forget. It’s simply a little hard to forget it all when he was trying to watch his team’s game last night and thirty minutes was spent talking about an article that is apparently determined to take over his life.

Fuck Walsh Osborne and fuck Brennan Jones.

They deserve nothing.

All he’s trying to do is play baseball and live his life. He never wanted any of this. He never asked for any of it.

The past two days of his life have been hell, and he’s been away from it all where it couldn’t honestly and truly get to him. Killian’s been in Maine trying to have a good time with his girlfriend and her family, and he’s avoided his phone as much as possible so as to not see all of the backlash. Emma has done the same.

Of course, he did have an extremely concerned brother who was also torn apart by their shitty excuse of a father lying and finally using them for money he’s probably already gambling away. He also had Elsa and Anna worried sick. That’s not even mentioning Will and Robin or Eric and Ariel.

God, Ariel.

She’d gone absolutely ballistic. Killian doesn’t think he’s ever actually heard that many curse words come out of her mouth, but in the hour that he spent talking to her (it was pretty much fifty minutes of her talking, ten minutes of him, and that’s being generous), he learned about an entirely new side of Ariel Fisher.

Or, at least, her mouth.

She is willing to go to war for him. All of these people are, and as flattered and grateful as Killian is for that, right now he is exhausted. Simply thinking about everything that’s going on in his life is exhausting. Hell, he’s just woken up thirty seconds ago, and his brain has already focused in on these catastrophic parts of his life in the damn article and his damn shoulder.

He’ll have to do some of his exercises before he goes into the stadium to meet with Archie for his physical therapy.

Physical therapy before physical therapy. What a concept.

He’ll also have to read the press statement that Ariel has written to be released. It’s all carefully thought out and lawyer approved and absolutely everything that he doesn’t want to say. He wants to say that the people spreading lies about him are the fucking scum of the earth. Instead he has to release a statement politely stating that while he doesn’t usually give out comments on his personal life, he will say that there are parts of his past of which he is not proud but they are in the past. They are not part of his present.

There’s some shit in there about his father and how his words were untrue, but he left that part to Ariel and some of the team’s PR managers to write. Killian knows that he’s too emotional about that to say anything that is even remotely acceptable.

The one part of the statement that he carefully crafted himself is the one at the end where he states in very clear words that Emma has earned every bit of her success in her career, exemplifies the height of professionalism every day, and that insinuating that a woman has advanced in her career because of who she is dating is a form of sexism that he will not tolerate. He may have screwed up in the past when he asked her out, but he’s learning that stupid questions and games aren’t always okay no matter how well-intended they are. Other people should learn too.

That’s all that he cares about the world knowing. They can think all kinds of shit about him and his past and what he did to his father, but they’re not going to get to think that Emma has slept her way up the ladder.

There’s no way in hell.

Slowly, Killian moves to sit up in bed, the covers barely draped over his waist, and starts doing a few short movements with his arm. Emma is still asleep on her side of the bed, nearly all of the blanket bunched around her, and he has to be careful not to wake her up. She is not a fan of being woken up for anything other than food or sex. And sometimes not even those two.

(She always wakes up for food.)

He pads out of his bedroom and down the hallway to the room where he keeps his gym equipment. It’s supposed to be a spare bedroom, but since he already has one of those, he didn’t see the point in having two when he has more use for a bit of a personal gym. Slipping into his sneakers and tying the laces, Killian gets dressed to go for his morning jog. He’s still half asleep, is still wearing the sweatpants that he slept in, but this is going to have to work. He turns on the television so that he has something to distract himself, finding whatever morning show that it is that airs for what seems like ten hours a day, and then he starts a slow jog to try to loosen himself up a little bit.

And to make himself forget.

Focusing on the different ways that his body aches and on the way that he’d rather be in bed usually keeps his mind off of everything else that’s in there fighting for dominance.

Nothing like killing himself with exercise to calm himself down.

It’s an hour run, no more and no less, and sweat is dripping down his entire body by the time that he’s finished. Killian has to towel himself down, wiping away the sweat from his chest and his back before running the cloth through his hair. His shoulder is still stiff, so he picks up the free weights and runs through a few repetitions until he knows that he can’t push himself any further.

In the past, Killian has always pushed himself past his limits, especially when his mind is the one attacking him, but he can’t do that anymore. That’s how he ends up in situations like this.

That and lying his ass off about the kind of pain he’s in.

By the time he finishes exercising, the sun has risen outside, sunshine shining brightly through the glass windowpanes. Having such large windows everywhere is great until he has a bit of a headache and needs a large cup of coffee, about a gallon of water, and something to eat.

Water. He desperately needs water right now. And food.

Killian takes off his socks and shoes and wanders into the kitchen, fixing himself a glass of cold water to drink before making himself some oatmeal. It’s not really what he wants, but it will have to do for this morning. He’ll eat something more filling in the clubhouse.

Soft hands wrap around his stomach, gentle fingers trailing up and down the hair on his chest, and Killian can feel Emma pressing into him and nuzzling her nose in between his shoulder blades. He smiles and puts his spoon back in the bowl on his countertop before placing his hand over both of hers and patting against his abs. Her lips are smooth when they press against his skin in response.

“I thought this a few days ago,” she mumbles, and he can practically hear the sleepy smile in her voice, “but I’m incredibly happy with my life choices right now.”

“And why’s that, love?”

“You’re really damn hot.”

Killian snorts, unable to help himself, and chalks up the heat in his cheeks to him still being warm from exercise. “And by that you mean incredibly sweaty and gross from my workout.”

Emma hums against his skin and tightens her arms around his stomach. “You know, that is exactly what I was trying to say.”

“I thought so. How’d you sleep?”

“Really good actually.” She kisses his back once more before releasing him and stepping around to the side so that he can see her rumpled hair and the way that the t-shirt she’s wearing is falling off of her shoulder. Emma hops up onto the counter, something she’s been doing a lot lately in the mornings, and lets her legs dangle. There are red pillow marks against her cheek. “Your bed is about a million times more comfortable than the one at Ruth’s. I think it hurt my back.”

Killian chuckles and moves to take another bite of his oatmeal before the remaining bit gets cold. “So, you turn twenty-eight in a month, and you’re already preparing to be an old woman. I like that you’re ahead of the game.”

“Twenty-eight is in no way old. Plus, you’re, like, nine months older than me, so you’re not allowed to ever call me old.”

“Nine months is not a long time.”

“Tell that to a pregnant woman.”

“True,” Killian admits, scooping up some more oatmeal. “Do you want something to eat before you go get ready for work?”

“Not hungry.”

“You are always hungry in the morning, Swan.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “There’s a first time for everything.”

The pieces click together in Killian’s mind, and he sighs before stepping in between her legs and reaching his hands up to push all of her stray hairs behind her ears so that he can look into the emerald of her eyes. “So, you’re nervous then?”

“Nope.”

“Emma.”

“I’m nervous as hell,” she admits. That didn’t take much coaxing. “I don’t think…I mean, no one is going to say anything to me. I’m almost sure of it, especially because the only people I’m working with today are Ruby and Jeff and the guys…but I feel like.” She sighs, and he runs his thumb over the apple of her cheek to get her to look back up at him. “I feel like I’m going to have to start over again.”

“You’re not going to have to start over.”

Emma nods her head and leans her cheek into his palm while her eyes close, blonde lashes landing against freckles. “I know. I’m just – I never got to have anything that was simply mine until I was older. I always had to share everything, if there was anything to share. But my work: that has always been mine. Having to deal with people trying to take that away from me is terrifying.”

“No one,” he starts, tapping his thumb, “is taking your job away from you. Are the comments you’re inevitably getting going to suck? Yes. But they’re not true. You know they’re not true, and I know they’re not true. My Emma is too strong to let the words of some misogynistic assholes bring her down.”

She chuckles and opens her eyes before leaning forward and pressing her forehead against his. Her lips brush over his, nothing more than the lightest of fleeting kisses, but her lips never leave his long enough for him to feel her falling away. Emma’s hands ghost over his neck until they’re landing on his shoulders, nails digging into skin, and her lips start moving over his in a slow, lazy kiss that has him tasting the mint of her toothpaste and feeling the warmth of her tongue.

Killian hums into it, tilting his head to the right to deepen the kiss, and Emma’s hands pull him closer into her while the hairs on his arms stand at attention. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of kissing her, not like this. And not when her lips trail along his jaw and down his neck, tongue flat against his pulse.

“Darling, as much as I want you, and trust me, I always want you, we don’t have time.”

“I have time,” she mumbles.

“Aye, you do, but what I have in mind takes two of us.”

Laughter passes through Emma’s lips as she pulls back from him, and Killian immediately misses the warm press of her lips. “I’m going to go take a shower in the guest room because I think I’m going to need you to drive me to work.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because there’s a hell of a lot of photographers outside your apartment, and the only way out of here without me punching a camera is through the garage.”

“For fucks sake,” Killian groans, stepping out of Emma’s legs and walking over to the kitchen window to look at the small mass of people waiting outside his apartment. “I’m a baseball player. I literally throw a ball for a living. It’s not that interesting.”

“So, you’ll drive me then?”

“Yeah, Swan. I will. I’ve got to leave in thirty minutes so be quick.”

-/-

A few teammates and managers are in the clubhouse when Killian walks through, and while the room does quiet a bit when he initially walks in, everything goes back to normal as Killian goes through his locker, most of his gear untouched for two weeks now. He’s been here a few times, not every day like he usually is, but it’s still odd to show up for physical therapy and strength training while not actually playing.

His teammates rely on him, and yet he is a bit of a mess right now. They probably all are too. Their lives simply aren’t splashed across the pages of tabloids and on Instagram. He hasn’t seen most of it, all of the apps shut down on his phone, but Ruby has been keeping track and talking to Emma about it.

It’s…a lot.

And everyone now knows more about him than he ever wanted them to.

But it’s fine. It has to be fine. He’s simply here to have his shoulder worked on, and nothing else is going to bother him. He hopes Emma’s day goes much the same. Honestly, that’s what he’s most nervous about especially with how nervous she was this morning and on the car ride over. Her leg never stopped fidgeting.

Today is a huge game with the play-offs being on the line, but he’s not going to still be around the stadium this afternoon. He thought about it and wanted to be there, still kind of wants to, but just being in the locker room today is a little overwhelming. Plus, he doesn’t want to make today any harder on Emma by having her have to interact with him at work. He’ll be around for all of the other big moments to give awful hope-induced speeches and celebrate in the post-game high. Today, he’ll simply watch in the comfort of Liam’s home.

“Oi,” Will greets, slapping Killian’s back. “How was Maine?”

“Fine.”

“Did you impress Emma’s mom?”

Killian almost corrects Will, but he knows it’s not necessary. “I mean, besides her learning about all of my dirty laundry, I do think she genuinely liked me.”

“Well, if she can get past all of that, you’re golden, ponyboy.”

He laughs and rolls his eyes, looking over to Will and the big cheesy smile on his face. “I mean, you got past all of that and are still joking around with me.”

Will shrugs his shoulders. “We’ve all got shit going on in our lives, but my face isn’t handsome enough for me to be a celebrity outside of baseball. I’m just good at my job all on my own.”

Killian reaches out to punch Will’s shoulder but he dodges it, sticking his tongue out. “Asshole.”

“Pretty much. Can you practice with me today?”

“Nah, not today. My doctor’s appointment is in two weeks for him to check up on my arm. I might get to come back then, so you guys better clench the playoff’s spot today so that I can finish this season out on the right note.”

“I’ll try my hardest. Keep your chin up, Jones. You’re prettier that way.”

-/-

Killian works with Archie on his arm for an hour before doing some more strength conditioning for his core, and by the time he’s out of the clubhouse and the locker room, it’s nearly two in the afternoon.

A part of him wants to go see Emma and check on her since the game won’t start for another hour and she’s been here for as long as he has, but he knows that today of all days, he might as well leave her alone while she’s working. They haven’t talked about how they want to interact around the team quite yet, mostly because he isn’t technically back to work, but also because in the three days since his life has blown up, all he’s done is talk. He’s a bit tired of it.

They’ll discuss it later.

For now, he texts her to have a good game before walking through the tunnels to the garage and getting into his car to head back to Midtown so that he can pick Addy and Lucy up from their school.

Uncle of the Year, obviously.

Twenty-five minutes later, he’s pulling into the parking lot of their elementary school, thankful that no one seems to be following him, and slamming his car door shut to walk up the front pathway of the school and pressing the buzzer to the front door to get in. it doesn’t matter how many times he picks them up, the front office secretary always seems to forget who he is.

“Name,” she says through the speaker.

“Killian Jones.”

“Who are you here to pick up?”

“Addison and Lucy Jones.”

It takes a few seconds, and he’s sure that she’s typing in their information. “You’re not one of their parents.”

“Aye, I know,” he sighs, rolling his eyes a bit. “I’m their Uncle. My name is on their approved list. It’s – ”

“Oh, I see you now, Mr. Jones,” she interrupts like clockwork. “I’m buzzing you in. Please wait in the lobby, and the girls will be brought to you.”

Killian nods his head and opens the door after it clicks. Addy and Lucy usually have their nanny pick them up from school since Liam and Elsa are at work, but in the few times he’s done it, he’s quickly learned the routine. He knows that their teacher is currently standing under an awning on the other side of the school with all of the children who are being released to their regularly scheduled guardians, and the teacher’s aide will be the one to bring the girls to him at the front of the school. It always takes about five minutes, and sure enough, after a little over four minutes, he sees two blonde heads of hair come into his view, their backpacks nearly as large as they are.

Out of instinct, he squats down to their level because he knows they’re about to tackle him with an embrace. Sure enough, they do, and Killian swears that his heart grows three sizes like he’s the damn Grinch.

“Why weren’t you at dinner last night?” Addy immediately asks him in leu of a hello.

“I was in Maine. Do you know where Maine is?”

“Nope.”

Killian grabs both of their hands, squeezing Lucy’s a little tighter, and the leads them out the front door so that they can walk toward the parking lot to his car.

“Maine is another state, like New York, and it’s where Emma was born. I spent my weekend there with her.”

“Where is Emma?” Lucy asks.

“She’s at work.”

“Why aren’t you at work?”

Isn’t that the question?

“I hurt my shoulder, Luce. Remember?”

She nods her head.

“Is Emma coming to dinner tonight?” Addison asks him as he opens the back door to his car and lets her climb across to the booster seat that he had to put in his car this morning.

“She’s supposed to, but she might be a little late.”

The girls continue to ask him questions about Emma. Their brains never cease to stop coming up with new ones, and it honestly makes him laugh that they’re so interested in what she’s doing and where she is. It only stings the slightest bit that every time they see him, all they truly care about is seeing Emma.

Then again, that’s exactly how he is too.

They ask for ice cream, and while he would usually stop, Killian is under strict instructions from Elsa not to give them sweets since they’re having some with dinner tonight. So, ever the bearer of bad news, he has to tell them no as they drive through the city on the way to their house. Traffic is surprisingly good, especially for the time of day, but they don’t have to travel far until he’s pulling into the garage and helping the girls grab their things to go inside.

In the ten minutes that they were in the car, they somehow managed to lose all four of their shoes, a hair bow, and Lucy’s favorite stuffed animal.

Just amazing. Honestly.

Killian fixes the two of them a snack, slicing up an apple and some peanut butter, before giving them glasses of water and listening to them both go into very detailed instructions about their days. Addy is obviously more talkative, but they used water colors in Lucy’s preschool class today and the girl is hyped over them.

Seriously. He doesn’t think she has ever been so excited about anything. She may very well be taking after her grandmother in the artistic skills department.

For the next hour, he helps Addy through her few assignments so Liam and Elsa don’t have to deal with it when they get home, but then they’re finished with all of that (thank goodness because getting a six-year-old to focus on school when she’s just left school is damn difficult), and he’s able to turn on the game.

It’s the bottom of the third, and both teams are still scoreless. Arthur is currently up to bat, and while he makes Killian’s jaw clench, he’s a damn good baseball player who they need. You simply can’t win everything.

“Are we winning?” Addy asks before she crawls up next to him and cuddles into his side.

“Not yet, little love.”

“It’s because you’re not playing. They’re not as good without you.”

“Oh, that’s not true,” he sighs, having to bite back his laugh. “We’re a team. They need all of us to be good.”

“Yeah, but you’re the best.”

“You only think that because I’m your uncle.”

“Maybe. All of my friends think you’re cool except for Billy who likes the Red Sox.”

She shifts against him and Lucy does the same, and he swears their elbows are the sharpest objects on the planet. Arthur’s bat makes contact with the pitch, and it flies to the outfield only to be caught and end the inning. Damn. They had two people on base. That could have been huge. The camera changes from the field to Emma where she’s standing just outside the dugout holding a microphone in her hand talking about how today’s game can officially clench their playoff spot. They’re going to make it. All they have to do is win one of their next ten games, and even then, they’d still qualify based on how everyone else in the league is doing.

He’d kind of like to be the number one seed going in, though.

“Do you and Emma have any babies?”

What the hell?

Killian blinks several times before looking down at Addison, who doesn’t seem to realize what she’s just said. She’s simply looking at the television screen still watching Emma.

“No, sweetheart,” he stutters out, “we don’t have any babies.”

“Why not?”

“Um, because it’s not time for us to have babies yet. Babies are loud and messy, and they smell bad, you know? I think it’ll still be a few years before Emma and I have any babies.”

Holy shit. Did he just say that?

How does he get out of this conversation?

“Okay,” Addy shrugs. “I’m going to brush my teeth. They feel fuzzy.”

At that, she gets up from the couch and moves to walk away. Okay, so that’s how he gets out of that conversation.

Kids are so damn weird.

Each inning in the game seems to go on for more than forever, the outs slow to come for each team, and the Yankees finally score in the bottom of the sixth with Booth’s single. It’s a relief, even if there is still a lot of game to be played, but Killian gets distracted by it all when Elsa and Liam walk through their garage door and there’s a bit of chaos with the girls immediately having to tell their parents everything they’ve already told him about their day.

Including the fact that he and Emma don’t have any babies. That gets him quite the look from Liam. Eventually, though, Elsa moves the girls to the kitchen, leaving him with a not-so-subtle wink. She’s very obviously giving he and Liam time to talk, and as much as he appreciates that, Killian also doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants to lay on this couch and watch this game and not do anything else.

Liam obviously has other ideas.

“I have been contacted by no less than fifteen people today asking me to give my statement or appear on one of those inane morning shows to tell, and I quote, ‘my side of the story.’ It simply makes me wonder how many of these shows Brennan has offers to be on.”

Killian scoffs. “I imagine all of the seedy ones, but I don’t think he’ll do it.”

“No?”

“No.” Killian crosses his legs over each other and props his hands behind his head. “I’ve thought about it a hell of a lot, and I think he did this to hurt us more than the money. Walsh couldn’t have paid him that much. He doesn’t make much money. And it’s not as if there were a lot of details. If he wanted money, he would have gone to a bigger publication. Maybe he’ll do that if there’s enough interest, but I think it was more about hurting me.”

“Do you really think he’s that petty?”

Killian arches a brow. “Brennan Jones? We’re talking about the same man, aren’t we? Of courseOf course , he’s that petty. He only cares about himself. Always has. That’s not going to change.”

Liam sighs and taps his fingers against the wood of the side table. “How are you handling things?”

“Just peachy, thanks.”

“Killian.”

“What?” he sighs, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can actually look at Liam. “I’m pissed. I’m upset. I’m angry. There are so many emotions swirling around in my head that I can’t even keep track of how I feel. And there’s nothing I can actually do about it, you know? The damn thing has spread like wildfire, and I can’t stop it. My statement can’t stop it either. The only real option that I have is possibly suing that bastard for libel, and all that will do is drag both Emma and me into a legal battle that’s simply not worth fighting.”

Liam doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to be said. They hashed all of this out over the phone. Killian ranted before Liam took his turn. Brennan deserves absolutely no space in either of their minds, but he manages to find it anyways. It is exactly the thing that has fire burning in the pit of Killian’s belly.

“I’m going to be fine,” Killian says to fill the silence that the sounds of the baseball game on the television aren’t filling. “You will be fine. Emma too. It’s just…I hate that it happened, but I can’t change it. I can’t change it, and I can’t fix it. Hopefully things will calm down as the days pass. I imagine that once I start playing again, this will simply be a footnote.”

“You know,” Liam begins, “a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.”

Killian can’t help but roll his eyes. He’s heard that line a few times before, and it’sit’s always so damn pompous no matter how true it is.

“Yeah, well, the only thing I’m currently willing to fight for is the woman on that TV screen right there. She’s sticking by me because she loves me, and I am not dragging her through the mud anymore.”

“I think I’d likely do the same.”

“I know you would.”

“Daddy,” Lucy screeches as she runs into the room, loose curls escaping her braid and framing her face, “Mommy says that you have to come and put the steaks on the grill outside.”

“Well,” Liam starts as he stands and walks over to Lucy to pick her up and rest her on his hip, “if Mommy says so, then I guess I must.”

The two of them leave the room, and Killian is left to his own thoughts once more. One day, his life won’t be this complicated. It will be complicated in other, different ways, but it won’t be complicated quite like this. One day he will be carrying his own child on his hip, hopefully one he’s had with Emma, and all of the struggles of the day will be put so far in the past that he barely remembers them.

There’s a loud cheering coming from the TV, and Killian twists his head to look at Will running around the bases after hitting a home run.

“Damn, Scarlet,” he mutters under his breath with a smile on his face.

That smile grows a little more when the camera pans to his entire team jumping up and down in excitement, practically shaking the entire stadium. The shiver that runs over Killian’s body makes him feel like he’s there.

God, he’s missed the feeling of being a part of the team like that.

He’s missed playing.

But he’s going to get back to it soon. He has to. His arm is going to get better and be better.

Emma comes onto screen then, a beatific smile on her face that causes his to grow too. “Well,” she starts, laughing at something off screen, “it looks like we’re going to the playoffs.”

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan

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raysofcrosby · 5 years

Text

REASON

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩...𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.” – 𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝙂𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙣, 𝘼𝙣 𝘼𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨

𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 (𝘹)

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥: yes | no

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴): bad words here and there plus some alcohol consumption otherwise its just full of moody!nolan and quite angsty tbh.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4,698

𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺: break up in a small town by sam hunt

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: yikes i’m back with another piece i wrote for my creative writing class but obviously i changed the names– i couldn’t have my professor thinking i was writing about hockey players ya know anyway like i said above, it’s pretty angsty lmao idk why i love writing sad things so much but oh well!!! enjoy!!! ;-)

"Nolan hurry up back there! We need to get back soon!" Travis called out from the front of the store as he placed his booze of choice for the night up onto the counter.

"Yeah, yeah I'm coming," Nolan replied, turning his attention back to the liquor in front of him. He'd been home in Winnipeg now for a good month or so since the Flyers season had ended with no playoff bid. Yeah it sucked, actually, it really fucking sucked– but there was nothing he could do about it now. So when Nico had called and said he was coming to visit, Nolan took the opportunity to invite Travis too. Because what better way to get your mind off of the lack of playoff hockey, than by spending it out on a lake and drinking with your best friends?

In the few days that they'd been here, the three boys had already wreaked enough havoc in the Patrick home, that Nolan knew he was only one inappropriate joke away before his mom would book the three of them a hotel room and tell them to stay there. But they couldn't help it, their friendship was tight and after the whirlwind of a season both of their teams had– they needed a little fun.

Which is why he was standing in front of five rows of liquor, trying to decide which one he'd make his poison for the night. An old friend from Juniors was throwing a party at his house, and obviously Nolan, Travis and Nico were invited. The old friend said that the party was for Nolan, so to speak, a celebration on his return back from Philly and to commemorate the fact that he'd actually left his house for once. But in reality, it was just a get together with old friends while getting wasted on incredulous amounts of liquor all while sloppy games of beer pong, suck and blow and every other cliche high school drinking game Hollywood could manage into one movie, played on in the background.

Not that Nolan was complaining or anything. He was actually excited about the party since he hadn't really seen or talked to most of the people who would be in attendance since last summer. That, and he was always down for a party. His eyes skimmed across two separate bottles of vodka, unsure of which to choose for tonight as 'eenie meenie miney mo' played in his head.

"You should go with Belvedere," Nolan straightened up and looked to his left to see you standing maybe a foot or two away from him. "Black Cow usually made you throw up."

He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't make the words come out. Hell, he couldn't even find the words if he wanted to. He could barely even believe that you were there, standing right in front of him...in person, after all this time. He blinked once, twice, adding a third time for good measure to make sure that his mind wasn't playing any tricks on him. But you were still standing there.

"Hi, Nolan." You laughed, tossing some of your hair over your shoulder as you motioned towards the bottles in front of him. "You don't mind if I..."

"No, g-" he cleared his throat and stepped back from the shelves, "go ahead."

You smiled and walked closer to the shelves, bending down and causing your hair to fall back over your shoulders. You grabbed two bottles of Ciroc and stood back up, a bottle in each hand. "Thanks," you said, biting the inside of your cheek, a habit you wished you could rid yourself of but never had the willpower to do so. "Well, I guess I'll see you later?"

Nolan nodded while simultaneously swallowing the lump that had grown in his throat. You lightly laughed and turned away, walking to the end of the aisle and disappearing out of his sight. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to figure out if what just happened was one huge mindfuck. "Nolan what the fuck, come on!" Travis called out. Nolan opened his eyes t see Travis standing there at the end of the aisle with an annoyed look on his face. "We're about to leave without you and your alcohol."

Nolan rolled his eyes as turned away from his teammate. "Calm the fuck down, I'm coming. I just couldn't decide." He looked at the shelves and grabbed both the Belvedere and Black Cow vodkas. At this point, he knew that he'd probably be needing both bottles for tonight.

He walked down the aisle and brushed past Travis, putting his bottles on the counter and looking at Nico. "Sorry, I couldn't decide what to get."

"Well, at least you're here now," Nico shrugged, handing his I.D. and credit card over to the cashier. "Because now we can get home faster and then start drinking and therefore get wasted."

Nolan laughed, shaking his head as he stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. "Yeah, I couldn't decide between the two, so I got both."

"Did you talk to Y/N?" Travis asked, resting his elbow on the counter and causing Nico to look at him.

"Y/N? Y/N was here?" He asked, looking at Nolan. "Where?"

"You guys were still grabbing something. I let her check out before us since she already had all of her stuff." Travis replied, picking up the two cases of beer off the counter. "So Patty, did you talk to her?"

Nolan scrunched his nose and bit the inside of his cheek as he thought about whether or not he should lie to his best friends. Would it even benefit them if he told them that he had talked to her? Instead, he just sighed. "Kind of. She told me not to get Black Cow because I always had the habit of throwing up after drinking it all," he replied, grabbing the bag holding his two bottles in it.

"And yet you bought it anyway?" Nico asked, putting his I.D. and credit card back into his wallet and giving Nolan a confused look. "Can I ask why?"

"I need to get drunk and that's the way to do it," Nolan replied, shrugging his shoulders and walking out of the liquor store with his friends right behind him.

"God, I knew we were best friends for a reason." Travis sighed, as he got into the drivers' side of his car, Nico in the passenger side and Nolan in the back with all of the alcohol.

Nolan dug into his front pocket and brought his cellphone out, unlocking it and opening Instagram. He didn't feel the need to scroll down the feed filled with empty smiles of the people he followed, nor did he pay any mind to the red number over in the top right of his screen showing just how many DM's he'd received from the many girls who vied for his attention and the endless amount of fans who congratulated him on the season. Nope, he went straight to your profile and scrolled down to find what he was looking for.

He didn't know how many times he'd stared at this picture, millions perhaps. Or however many times it takes for it to bur a picture into one's mind further than it already was. It was the last picture you and him had taken together, about three weeks into the new season. You had come out and stayed with him and Travis for the weekend since it was your fall break. He could still see you sitting there, wearing his jersey and talking amongst the other WAGs at warm-ups. It had been the best weekend of his life, he thought that nothing could get better than this very moment.

After that weekend, you flew back home to return to school and he couldn't wait till you could come down again. He was already planning your second trip, not paying any mind to the fact your facetime calls had gotten shorter, the texts didn't come in multiples and you both were playing a consistent game of phone tag every day. A week after you'd gone back to school, you broke up with him. And when the Flyers came up to Winnipeg for a game, you still showed up with his family, only this time you weren't wearing his jersey, and when the Patrick's invited you out to dinner after the game, you didn't go out.

And Nolan was pissed. Not only because of the fact that you had broken up with him a week after just spending hours in bed together, cuddling and talking about the future, but because you hadn't spoken a word to him or even given him a full reason as to why you broke off your 2-year relationship. All he got from you, hours before the game was that you didn't think that being in a relationship was healthy for the two of you right now. When he asked you what you meant by that, you just said that you would 'tell him later.'

Well, here he was, five months later at home and still no explanation. It fucked him up bad five months ago, he wasn't afraid to admit it. Travis had called him out on his shitty appearance once or twice and even Nico had noticed his different behavior whenever they were able to get in a talk. Yeah, you had fucked him up real bad and truth be told, he hasn't been able to get it completely out of his mind since.

"Nolan, you good man?" Nico asked, waving his hand in front of Nolan's face and causing him to jump.

Nolan turned to see that it was Nico and sighed, locking his phone and sliding it back into his pocket. "Yeah, I'm good." He brought his solo cup to his lips and took a long drink, the vodka numbing his mouth for a partial moment as the burning feeling traveled down his throat.

Nico sighed and shook his head as Nolan turned around to face him. "Why don't you just talk to her, Nolan?"

Nolan took another sip of his drink. "Two reasons. Reason number one," he said, holding up his index finger. "She hasn't reached out to me in months. And reason number two," Another sip as the burning feeling followed soon after and he held up his middle finger. "She's not even here, so I couldn't talk to her even if I could."

"Well it looks like it's your lucky day buddy," Nico said, bringing the cup to his lips and nodding in the direction behind Nolan. "Because she's making herself a drink right now."

Nolan turned to see you standing at the designated liquor counter, making yourself your signature drink– captain and coke. Nico patted his shoulder and stood next to him. "It's now or never," Nolan went to say something but Nico waved him off. "And no, never is not an option."

"Well, you can't say it's not an option AFTER you give it as an option!" He yelled out as Nico waved him off and walked towards a beer pong table.

Nolan took a deep breath again, exhaling before bringing the brim of his cup back to his lips and chugging the rest of his drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood a bit taller before making his way to the counter. As he neared you, he hesitantly reached out for your arm, only to back out at the last minute and turn around. "Nolan?" He stopped in his tracks and took another deep breath before turning around and putting on his best 'happy' smile that he could. "I thought that was you."

"What gave it away?" He asked, putting his empty cup onto the counter.

"Honestly? The hair," you replied, looking up at his hair. "It's gotten longer. I don't think there are many guys in the world who could pull off that length of hair."

"Yeah, my mom says I need to get a haircut soon," He laughed, running his fingers through his hair.

"What's your poison for the night?" You asked, bringing the orange solo cup to your lips.

"Belvedere," He said, grabbing the bottle off of the counter and pouring it into his cup, filling it. "As suggested."

"Well, at least you'll be sure to remember your night then," you laughed, brushing the hair out of your face.

Nolan nodded and put the cap back onto the bottle, setting it back down onto the counter. He took a sip, pondering his thoughts on just how he could get you alone to talk about why you split up. You were looking around the room and sipping from your drink, smiling and waving at just about everyone you knew...which was just about everyone in attendance. The only person that you couldn't seem to keep your eyes on for more than a few seconds though, was him– and he took notice.

He couldn't help but wonder how it got to this point. How the once comfortable silence between you two that could be there for hours on end, suddenly flipped a switch and no longer seemed comfortable. Had it been something he did? Was it the way he approached you? But you had seemed so comfortable when he came over, open to conversation. "Hey, I was wondering if–"

"Hey over here!" You perked up, raising your arm into the air and waving it before looking back at Nolan. "Sorry, hold that thought. I'll be right back though, okay?”

Nolan just nodded and took another sip of his drink as you smiled and disappeared into the crowd. "You fucking idiot," he mumbled, downing another sip as he nerves began to take over the more he thought about talking to you.

After you first broke up, he was set on needing to see you. He needed for you to tell him in person that this was all a mistake. That you didn't mean to break up with him. And then a few days later, he found himself never wanting to see you again. He always knew that it would be near impossible to do, never seeing you again, especially since you shared all of your friends and every hangout around town and he had nowhere to go in the summers BUT home. So he kept that plausibility in the back of his mind, which is why he was so shocked about seeing you in the store so soon. He thought that he'd at least have until the end of the summer– but he was a damn fool, that's for sure.

He took another long sip of his drink, feeling less of the burn this time around. He looked around the room, spotting Travis and Nico playing beer pong against two girls that Nolan couldn't make out. As his eyes wandered more, he found himself more focused on trying to find where you had gone, wondering what was taking so long and who you went to see. When his eyes landed on the front door, he felt his stomach drop into his shoes. His lips tightened and he turned back to the counter, grabbing his unopened bottle of Black Cow and pushed himself away from the counter and through the crowd.

"Nolan, hey! Dude where are you going?" Travis yelled, his voice still a mumble among the loud music.

Nolan had heard him, sure. But he didn't care to stop and look to see what he wanted. Nope, he was on a mission and that mission took him towards the glass back door and into the backyard.

There weren't as many people out here, but he kept walking until he hit the old playground set- taking a seat onto one of the swings and opening the bottle. His breathing was heavy as he replayed the image in my mind again and again. A mix of anger, hurt and betrayal was running through him at a higher level than he knew what to do with. So he did the only thing that he thought could help it. He brought the bottle to my lips, taking a long hard swig- no longer feeling the burning in his throat.

He always knew that there was a big chance that he'd see you around town, or that you'd move on from your relationship. But he never thought that you'd move onto someone he knew...someone who was one of my close friends back in school and spent countless of hours with on the ice growing up. He took another swig and looked at the night sky.

Yeah, I never expected that bullshit.

He hadn't walked back into the house since he saw you. He could barely get himself to move, so on the swing he stayed. He brought the bottle back to his lips and tossed his head back, taking all the alcohol it had left to offer. When the bottle was empty, he stood himself up the best that he could, only to stumble a bit to his left. He reached out for the chain of the swing and kept himself from falling down. "Nolan, hey!" Nico called out, jogging over to him from the porch.

"Dude where have you been for the past hour?" Travis added, following behind him.

"Drowning myself i-in vodka and feelings," Nolan slurred, holding up the empty bottle. "Not really the b-best mix."

"Holy shit Patty, did you drink all of that?" Nico asked, his eyes wide.

"Yep!" Nolan yelled, throwing his arms in the air and laughing. "And i-it was delicious."

"What the hell were you thinking? You're going to be throwing up for a week!" Travis reached for the bottle and Nolan pulled it back. "Give me the fucking bottle Nolan."

"I had to drown out the image man. I can't stop s-seeing it." He slurred, holding the empty bottle tight in his grasp.

"What image? Seeing what Nolan?"

"Y/N AND NOAH!" Nolan didn't even recognize his own voice as it echoed against the night sky, barely a blip on the radar of anyone in attendance of the party. "I went to talk to her and she le-left to get someone," he hiccuped again, looking at his two best friends. "I saw her kissing h-him!"

It was then that the began to notice the slight churning of his stomach. It only began to escalate when he saw the look on his two best friends faces. He expected them to look surprised, but imagine his own surprise when he noticed just how casual they looked instead. He opened his mouth to say something, yell something at them, but he couldn't bring himself to.

"We know, Nolan. That's why we've been kind of pushing you so hard to talk to her." Nico said, reaching for the bottle.

Travis gave Nolan a guilt-ridden look. He knew he fucked up by not telling Nolan, but he also didn't expect for you to be at the party either. "Yeah man, we didn't want you to be caught off guard by it.."

"Well, it didn't fucking work you assholes." Nolan threw the bottle down and swallowed the horrible gut feeling he had before standing tall. "I'm going to talk to her."

"Oh no you're not," Nico said, grabbing an arm and pulling him back as Travis grabbed the other one. "We're taking you home."

"Let go!" Nolan yelled, snatching one arm free and working on the other. "If you were my best friends you'd let me do th-this."

"We are your best friends Nolan, which is exactly why we're not letting you do this."

Nolan glared at the two of them with a look that could send them both six feet under if at all possible. He opened his mouth to yell a bunch of obscenities at them when he felt his stomach begin to churn again, only this time it was much more violent. He grabbed onto the swingset and bent over, dry heaving until his stomach began to empty himself. As the first wave ended, he felt supportive pats on the back from his two friends. "Feel better?" Nico asked.

Nolan went to speak again, only to throw up even more. "I'll take that as a solid no," Travis mumbled, continuing to pat Nolan on the back.

"Hey Travis, is everything okay? Did you find him?"

"Yeah Y/N, we're–"

"Actually we're not," Nolan said, wiping his mouth and standing up as straight as he could, putting some weight against the swing set so he could seem like he was a tad bit sober.

"Nolan, I told you Black Cow always made you throw up," you laughed, bending down and picking the bottle up from the grass.

“Well, at least you told me something."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, letting the bottle fall to your side as you looked at the hot mess that was Nolan Patrick. His hair was sticking to the sweat on his forehead from puking and the splotches on his cheeks had already turned tomato red.

"You know what I'm talking about Y/N." He sneered, waving his hands around.

"I really don't Nolan...." You looked at Travis and Nico for support, only to get shoulder shrugs and confused looks. "We're going to take you home."

As you walked towards him, it was all Nolan could do not to run into your arms. This had been the very thing he'd dreamed about and wanted for the last five months. For you to be there with him. But not like this, this wasn't how he had imagined it going– drunk on a bottle of vodka with bad breath. "No! Not until you give me a reason!"

You were starting to get mad. You couldn't understand what the hell he was drunk rumbling on and on about. "A reason? Nolan, what the hell are you talking about?"

This was it, he was going to throw up again. He could feel it in his chest as he opened his mouth to speak. "The reason why you broke my heart!" He yelled, a bit shocked at just how loud and assertive his voice had sounded. He noticed the way your face fell and that you had taken a few steps back, and he felt proud for a moment because he could see that you remembered.

"Yeah, now you know what I'm talking about. You said you would give me a reason and you never did. And now here I am, wanting to talk to you and see if maybe you could tell me something– ANYTHING! But no," he dropped his hands to his side and looked at her, shaking his head. "Instead I see you all over Noah."

You looked at him with the most gut-wrenching look he had ever seen in his life. A look that could cause even the person with the coldest heart in the world, to cave. And for a moment, that proud feeling he had turned into regret. He could see the tears begin to build in your eyes as you stared at him. He wanted you to be angry at him, to yell at him. He wanted you to feel something the way that he had felt these last five months...and yet you showed nothing. And that hurt him more than anything ever could...he couldn't help but wonder what the hell he had become.

"Nolan, I think it's time we go..." Travis said, standing in front of him clearing his throat as Nico turned his attention to you.

"Do you still love me?" Nolan croaked, looking over Travis's shoulder.

"Nolan I–"

"Just tell me Y/N, I need to know. Do you still love me?" He stared at you, searching your face for maybe even the slightest insight into what you were thinking and what your answer would be. "I need to know the answer so I can prepare myself for when I see you around town every summer. Because Y/N it's going to be so...fucking hard to see you at every stop light, every store. To see your car driving down the block and realizing that you're not mine anymore. That there's someone else's house you'll be going to for midnight dates. Someone else's arms you'll be crying in whenever you watch 'The Last Song.'" You stared at him, mouth dropped from his confession and tears stinging in your eyes. "Just tell me...please."

You took a shaky breath and hugged yourself, trying your best to keep your tears at bay. "Nolan, it's– it's complicated, okay?"

Nolan ran his tongue against his cheek and laughed to himself as he looked up at the sky in disbelief. "No, it's not. You just gave me your answer." He looked at Nico and stood up fully. "I'm ready to go home."

He stumbled his way by you, brushing against your shoulder and keeping his focus on the back gate. "Nolan, wait!" You called out, the desperation in your voice loud and clear to Nolan.

He took a deep breath and kept on walking as Nico and Travis joined him, each with an arm over his shoulders. "You okay buddy?" Travis asked, looking at him.

"I don't feel too hot," Nolan mumbled as they walked along the outside of the house.

"You'll feel better soon Patty, no doubt in my mind you won't."

"Ha, GOT YOU FUCKER!!!" A faint voice yelled as a slapping sound followed it.

Nolan opened his eyes slowly and saw that he was in his bedroom. He sat himself up slowly realizing very quickly that it wasn't the best decision to make since his world literally began to spin. He closed my eyes tight and sat there for a few moments before hearing a few more yells coming from outside his room, but too faint to really hear what was being said. When his case of the spins ended, he stood himself up and shuffled his way to his bedroom door, opening it and walking down the hallway. The closer he got to basement stairs, the clearer the voices became.

He pushed open the door to see Nico and Travis all sitting on the couch playing NHL '18. "Dude, are you even trying?" Travis taunted, throwing his arms in the air. "GOAL!!! LOOK AT THAT FRESH CELLY."

Nico rolled his eyes and looked up, clearing his throat. Travis looked at him and saw his eyes looking in Nolan's direction and then looked at Nolan. "Good morning sunshine, how are you feeling this morning?" He asked, smiling.

"Like I got ran over by a truck," Nolan said, his voice very hoarse. "How long have you guys been down here?"

"We slept here, dude," Travis said, looking at him. "Didn't really want to be in your puke stench of a room honestly."

"Yeah, no offense. But we still checked on you throughout the night." Nico added, shrugging his shoulders.

The doorbell rang and Nolan took a deep breath, looking out into the hallway expecting to hear his parents or his sisters move towards the door, but hearing nothing. "And my parents and sisters?"

"Your mom and sisters went out to brunch and your dad went golfing with a work friend," Travis replied, looking away from the tv. "So it looks like you'll be the one answering the door."

"Don't fuck up my man-cave," Nolan said, leaving the man-cave and walking further down the hallway until he reached the living room. He walked around the couch and over to the front door, looking through the peephole and not seeing anyone on the porch. Weird, but he didn't dwell much on it before he unlocked the door and opened it, looking out and not seeing anyone in visible distance. He shook his head, it was probably just some neighborhood kids messing around with the Nolan Patrick.

God, kids were annoying sometimes.

Nolan went to turn away when something on the ground caught his eye. He bent down and saw an envelope lying face down on their welcome mat. Picking it up, he flipped it over to see it had his name written on it....in your handwriting. He opened the envelope and tilted it to the side, letting everything that was in it, slid into his hand. There was a letter and a Polaroid picture of the two of you and on the front, "always & forever" was written in your beautiful cursive handwriting. He flipped it over and instantly recognized the chicken scratch on the back...it was his own handwriting.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. || 2/14/17

He remembered that picture perfectly. It was a few months into your relationship and you had flown in to surprise him for Valentine's day. He hadn't expected you to come in, so he had absolutely nothing planned. The best part is that Claude and Ryanne had you two tag along on their Valentines day plans– which included a dinner and a stroll through some of Philly's landmarks. You were most excited to see the Rocky statue and Nolan could still remember the way his heart skipped a few beats when he saw you running up the steps, laughing on your way. You had asked Ryanne to take a picture of the two of you, handing over your polaroid camera he had gotten you for Christmas. And when she laughed and told you to pose, Nolan remembered looking down at you and smiling at just how goofy you looked– like a kid in a candy store.

The memory came to an end as he held the picture in his other hand with the envelope and unfolded a piece of paper that looked like it was from a journal. It had deep creases as if it had been unfolded and refolded multiple times as well. He flipped it over to the other side and saw your handwriting and on the top right corner, a date. But it wasn't just any date...it was the day after she broke up with him.

11/18/2018

I don't know if I'll ever get the guts to actually give this to you, but you asked me for the reason why I ended things and this is the way you're going to get it. It seems selfish, I know. You deserved so much more than what I've already told you and I hope one day I'll be able to truly tell you why I did what I did. We spent two amazing years together and there's nothing in this world that I would trade them for and I never thought that we would end up where we are today...never in a million years. But things happen and things change and we can't fast-forward time to know if it's all really worth it, so we just trust our hearts and hope it turns out right. And I never really minded putting all that trust into my heart because with you, I didn't have to think twice or question myself- I kind of already knew what I wanted.

I'm rambling now, I know, but I swear I'm getting to the point. Things got so hard once you left Nolan and none of it was your fault, so don't you dare ever think it was. I just missed your a lot more than I thought I would- and it's really hard when you miss people. But you know what they say; if you miss someone that means you're lucky. It means you had someone special in your life, someone worth missing. The Skype calls and text messages and snapchats only partially filled the void, so when I flew out to visit you... I thought that everything would be okay, that everything would be perfect and wonderful again. But that last night with you, God I swear it made it worse. And I still remember that night. The night when everything fell together so perfectly and I wished it would last forever because I felt like everything was normal again...but it didn't.

So when I flew back home, it dawned on me N, it dawned on me that maybe this is supposed to be the end of us, maybe we're not meant to be together anymore. Maybe we were here to teach one another a lesson and once the lesson was taught, we were supposed to leave. Maybe you being on this amazing journey is teaching us a great lesson in life, one that we both needed to learn; that sometimes growing up means letting go of the dreams you aren't able to achieve...like those dreams of growing old together, the ones we talked about when we'd lay down on a blanket in your backyard and look at the stars.

You've got so many dreams and achievements ahead of you N and I want you to go out there and achieve them and be free while you do. I want nothing more than to see you succeed because that's what loving someone is all about. Putting them before yourself so they can flourish. So me breaking up with you has nothing to do about not loving you. It's not that we didn't love each other, it's just that love wasn't enough. So I think I have to let go...we have to let go. I really believe you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me N. And no matter where we go in life, you will forever be the person I'll never stop looking for in a crowded place.

Always and Forever, Y/N

He bit the inside of his cheek and sighed, looking up from the crinkled paper and wiping his face on his t-shirt sleeve. He took a deep breath and looked back down at the paper, folding it back up and putting the picture back into the envelope as well and walked back into his house, closing and locking the door behind him. "Hey Nolan, who was at the door?" Travis asked, his voice making Nolan jump.

"Oh uh, no one. Just the paper." He said as he opened the fridge. "Can you toss me a soda please?"

He tossed him a soda and grabbed himself one, then closing the door and meeting him in the living room. "Paper huh? Where is it?" He asked, looking down at the envelope in his hands.

"Oh, it's uh-" Nolan scratched the back of his neck, trying to come up with a lie.

He laughed and plopped his hand onto his shoulder. "It's 12:30 dude, your parents already got the paper. But I'm sure whatever it is, must have been worth the read."

"Yeah...it was," Nolan said, looking down at the envelope in his hands. "What do you say? Let's watch me kick Nico's ass in NHL '18 for the hundredth time huh?" He smiled, walking ahead of him and down the stairs, back into the man- cave.

Nolan nodded and followed him, stopping just outside the door and opening the envelope again and pulling out the small polaroid. He ran his thumb over your handwriting on the front and smiled.

Though it still hurts, he finally got his reason...and that's better than nothing.

#yikes don't let this flop plz #what's with me and sad shit #nolan patrick #nolan patrick oneshot #nolan patrick imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl writing #nhl imagine #flyers imagine #philadelphia flyers oneshot #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey ima #hockey one #my writing

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lifeinahole27 · 5 years

Text

CS ff: “On the Two” (Chapter 4/9) (au)

Summary: He’s one bad trip from ending up in AA, and she’s one performance away from a solid job and moving closer to home. Their paths were unlikely to cross until Camp Hope brought them together. How and why they meet and intertwine is against the odds, and definitely against the rules, but will that really stand in their way? A Dirty Dancing inspired modern au.

Rating: E

Content Warnings: Borderline alcoholism, very brief mentions of past relationships, mentions of the loss of a limb - this fic is primarily tame but I’ll do my best to tag anything that might need tags.

Chapter Specific Warnings: None!

A/N: The dance lessons begin! I am so excited to share this chapter. It’s one of my favorite parts of this whole fic. Thanks to all of you who are reading, commenting, liking, reblogging, and messaging. In a lot of ways, this fandom has gone very quiet, and the support is much appreciated. I worked on this thing for a year and that it finds any readers is something that means so much to me. I hope you all continue to enjoy it!

Catch it on FFN & Ao3! Or find the previous chapters here on Tumblr!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Of course, Killian’s not terrible at dancing. Not by a long shot. They spend the first day on basic steps, with Killian staring intently between the mirror and Emma as they work on form and movements. He’s even better with his hips than she initially realized, which makes her job a little easier.

The biggest struggle is working on something much simpler than form or footwork. Killian is terrible at eye contact. And the longer he avoids actually looking at her, the harder it gets to teach him the easy stuff. It doesn’t help that the air conditioning chooses this hour to fuck off, and Emma spends a minute stretching, going one more time to fiddle with the knobs in hopes of getting some cool air into the room, and then she switches the music.

Killian, still in front of the mirrors, doesn’t even look over. His expression is one of determination and irritation, and she’s curious as to why those two are mixing together. But first, she needs to get her partner to trust her. She watches him stare down his reflection, his feet moving repeatedly in the simple pattern she taught him to start, a furrow of concentration wrinkling his forehead.

“Hey, come over here for a minute.” She waves him over as she spreads a couple yoga mats on the floor right under where the fans circulate so they have a nice breeze. She grabs a second water bottle and hands it to him, smiling as he drinks it as if he was stranded without for days, taking a singular moment to appreciate the way the sweat drips down his temples. Then she’s back to business, sitting down on one of the mats and looking at him expectantly until he folds his legs and sits down across from her.

“Hold out your hands,” she instructs, waiting until his hand and prosthetic are stretched in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees. She turns his hands palm up, placing her hands in his immediately after. He flinches, immediately trying to pull away from the touch, and Emma lets him.

“What is this?”

“A trust exercise. When you’re ready, put your hands out again, and make eye contact with me.”

She watches him, never wavering, keeping herself calm even as she feels the way her ponytail is sticking to her neck and a drop of sweat is traveling down her lower back. She knows that if she flinches, the whole thing will fall apart.

He exhales heavily, grabbing the towel she placed next to the mat for him and swiping it across his face. He takes another drink from his water before he shrugs his shoulders and settles back into the same position he started in. After a couple seconds he slowly, ever so slowly, holds out his hands again. Emma gently places her hands in his again, still steadily staring at him and waiting. After a few more deep breaths, Killian finally looks up and meets her eyes.

Three, four, five, six… She holds his gaze for ten seconds and then nods to let him know that it’s okay to break the contact. He looks down, but doesn’t move from her hold.

“Tell me more about this job,” he prompts.

“So there’s this old contact I have. She fits the Type A personality descriptions too well, but she’s opening her own hotel. She wants to make it like old, upscale hotels used to be, with live entertainment in a lounge setting. The day I went into town to do my laundry after we uh, first met, there was the email basically inviting us to audition.”

As she talks, Killian looks up and holds eye contact with her. “Why do you need me to dance with you?”

“With Ruby out for a month, that would leave maybe a couple days for her to get ready to dance. While she knows what she’s doing, she’s going to have to work her way back up to speed. I don’t want her dancing that soon after being cleared for putting full weight on it, just for the sake of a job possibility.” She waits a beat, figures she can push it and get him talking a little bit, and then asks a question of her own. “You can choose not to answer this, but why the rum?”

“I’ll spare the details, but I will say the loss of my hand and my heart left me a little empty. Drinking has been a way to fill it and waste away the days.”

His heart. The loss of someone close. And she doubts it’s as tame as her shitty breakups. She doesn’t ask him to clarify; besides, she doesn’t have time to when he asks his next question.

“You got rather defensive when I said I wouldn’t dare dance. Why that response?”

With a whoosh, Emma blows a lock of hair out of her eyes. Before she can answer, Killian squints his eyes and looks at her closely.

“An ex-lover, correct?”

“Two. Two ex-boyfriends. One is the big regret of my life and the other was just an ass.”

He nods, following her lead and not asking for further explanation. “Tell me something else,” Killian says, clearing his throat. He’s managed to keep his eyes locked with hers the full time and she doesn’t want to break the streak they have going. “Anything. Tell me anything.”

She doesn’t know where the words come from but all of a sudden it’s coming out in the open. “I was raised in the foster system until David’s mother took me in. Uh, David Nolan. One of the owners of this place. Ruth adopted me and I finally had a family in her and David, and then after he got married I had a sister. And I’ve had Ruby by my side all this time, too.”

She shrugs and smiles, fighting with herself to keep looking straight at him when she suddenly has the urge to look away. Open up about exes? Sure. Open up about her family? No, thanks.

“A lost boy always recognizes a lost girl,” Killian says quietly. “My mum died when I was young, my father left not long after, and it’s been me and Liam as long as I can remember.”

“Why do you hate the camp so much?” Emma’s not sure why she’s even asking, but for some reason she feels the need to know.

Sadly, Killian finally breaks the eye contact that they’ve been holding but it’s to chuckle. He shifts his arms, but doesn’t let go of her hands. His fingers squeeze her hand and he sighs restlessly as he looks back to her. “I’ve not been in a good place for a long time, obviously,” he says plainly. “Liam tricked me. Told me we’d be going home for the summer, but instead dragged me all the way to bloody Maine.”

“That’s the funny thing about Storybrooke and Camp Hope, they’re the home you didn’t know you needed,” Emma tells him, not realizing how true the words are until her heart constricts. “That’s the other reason I want this job so bad. It’s down in Portland, and the trip is half as long. I want to move closer to home.”

They’re both quiet for a long time, and Emma smiles not just because she wants to keep Killian at ease but because he’s already doing so much better at looking at her. From the hunched, grumpy man she pre-met at the grocery kiosk to this moment right here, there’s already a marked difference.

“Well, then you better teach me how to look like a professional so I can help you get that job.” His smile after this statement is genuine and brilliant, and Emma can’t help her own from mimicking his.

Without further ado, she clambers up to her feet and holds out her hand to help him up. After he’s standing again, she shakes his hand in agreement that it’s time they get to work.

“I’ll be here after dinner,” she says, noting that she has a lesson starting in just twenty minutes and she needs to get food in her stomach before that time. “We can at least get some extra footwork in if you can spare the time.”

“I look forward to it, Swan.”

As the next week wears on, the lessons with Killian get better and worse. By all standards, it’s not the worst experience Emma’s ever had teaching, but yet…

“No,” she says for at least the fifth time in a row. “No, no, no. You move on the two, not the one. Try it again.”

Despite looking frustrated as hell, Killian resumes his hold, sucks in a deep breath, and exhales as they wait for the song to start. She catches a glimpse of them in the mirrors from her periphery. Her ideal aesthetics that she imagined before asking him to dance with her are purely figments of her imagination at present. They’re both sweaty right now; his cheeks are pink from the exertion, her hair is falling out of the shitty bun she put it in earlier to get it off her neck, and they could both give a kid nicknamed “Pit-stains” a run for his or her money right now.

It wouldn’t be nearly so bad if the humidity hadn’t rolled in full-force the day before, blanketing the whole camp in a heavy haze of summer warmth. The meager air conditioning in the studio is struggling to keep them cool, but with how long they’ve been at this today, even the ancient unit is no match for their activity levels.

They start again, and though Emma just told him not to move on the one, he still flinches, his foot raising up, and she can feel the movement without looking down to see it. She glares at him in the split second it takes for the second beat to occur because now he’s thrown off – now they have to start over. Again.

She doesn’t even move from the hold, just angrily jams the button on the remote that will start the song at the top again. While the stereo system takes its sweet time to configure, Emma tries her best not to glower at him the whole time. “Do I need to start counting out loud again?”

His reply is something along the lines of “No, mistress,” but the song starts again and she holds firm as the count begins. He does his best to hide his smile in a look of pure innocence, and suddenly, she has to fight her own smile. Despite her grumbling and bickering, he’s still been injecting the whole lesson with quiet humor and thus, keeping her from tensing up too much. This time, he moves on the two.

The next day, they almost manage to get through the new section of the routine in one go. He messes up a bunch, but they don’t stop, and Emma counts that as progress in her book. With the performance just three weeks away, she needs more runs like this, and faster.

Maybe that’s why she snaps when he starts fidgeting around, but mostly it’s because of the heat and the looming deadline, and the worry that someone is going to notice that whenever there are gaps in her dance lessons and class sessions, she’s pretty much not leaving the studio. If David or Snow have noticed her skipping breakfasts and lunches, only relying on whatever Killian grabs from the dining hall, they haven’t said anything yet. Maybe they just assume it’s because she’s picking up Ruby’s lessons, now. Whatever the case, she needs them to stay oblivious for a little while longer.

She turns around from taking a deep gulp of water from her bottle to see Killian with a storm cloud above his head, his expression lost and faraway. He may be keeping practices light, but she still catches these moments of his, and while she assumes what it must be about this time, she still asks.

“What’s wrong?”

They’ve gotten extremely good at communicating since Emma’s little trust experiment, so Killian doesn’t really hesitate before he speaks. “They’ll all be staring at my hand, or lack thereof,” he says, his eyebrows furrowing and his lips drawing down into a frown. He’s fixating on the fake flesh of his left hand, having switched over to this attachment after the first couple sessions instead of his hook. She doesn’t care which he uses, as long as it’s going to be where it needs to be while they’re dancing.

“No, they won’t,” she tries to reassure him. She sets her water back down and wanders closer, trying to get him to center in the moment rather than whatever dark place he’s gone off to. He barely even glances at her this time. While they’ve shared a lot in their time together already, there’s still so much buried beneath his surface – there are demons waiting at every turn, much like she deals with when she’s all alone at night.

“They will.”

“They won’t. They’ll be so focused on your movements they won’t even realize one of your hands isn’t real. You hear me?”

In fact, Emma constantly forgets that he doesn’t have two hands, not because she’s insensitive to his lack of hand, but because they’ve managed to edit any movements that would make him uncomfortable with it. She forgets because it’s part of him, and she accepts him exactly as he is. She just doesn’t understand why he can’t see that. She moves to stand in front of him, her hand reaching out to touch the prosthetic in a move of solidarity.

“Yeah,” he responds, not even bothering to try and look at her this time.

“Hey,” she stresses, stepping into that personal space they’ve worked so hard to establish between them. She makes sure she’s got his full attention now, his eyes locked with hers, her hands gripping the open sides of the button down she can’t believe he’s wearing in this heat. “You hear me?” she repeats, her tone leaving no room for argument.

His eyes are wider than she’s ever seen them, and his breath smells like the coffee he chugged down a minute ago. It whooshes out of him and brushes against her with the closeness of their proximity. “I hear you,” he says softly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

The warning bells are all going off like crazy, but for once she doesn’t listen to a single one of them. Instead, using the leverage she has on his shirt, she pulls him forward the rest of the way and kisses him. And oh, what a kiss it is. Where he’s still this side of timid on the dance floor, there’s no hesitation in the way his lips move against hers. Even less when he’s the one to initiate some tongue into the action, just requesting entrance before mapping out the roof of her mouth. She feels his hand come up to tangle in her hair and she’s hyper-aware of the way she’s on the tips of her toes, damning herself for not being in heels at this moment. Her muscles scream their protest but all she can concentrate on is sucking in a deep breath before diving back in for more.

She’s kissed before, and she’s been kissed before, but this is the kind of kiss that songs are written about. This is the kind of kiss that would come with the swelling of instrumentals and a panning shot of the sunset or rainbow in the background of the sappy rom-com she and Ruby like to watch in their downtime.

Hours may have passed since this first began and she wouldn’t even know it, but when she does stop, the reality of the situation slams back into her. He still looks a little dazed, like he’s floating on a cloud, and when he starts to speak he only gets out, “That was…” before she cuts him off.

“A one-time thing,” she says, forcing herself to release her grip on his shirt and step back. Lost in the after-effects, she can only turn in her own haze of emotions. “Don’t follow me. Wait five minutes and then take the rest of the day until after dinner.” “As you wish,” he says, his voice strained and longing in those three little words. She bends and picks up her shoes and water bottle on her way out and doesn’t look back. It’s only once she hits the door that she realizes she tasted nothing but the coffee, and wonders when he stopped sipping rum before their sessions.

-x-

Killian’s had some bad ideas in his life. One was not tucking and rolling out of the car when Liam told him where they were going. The second was listening to Emma when she said he could do this. Judging by the way her face is pinched for the third day in a row, he’s pretty sure she was overzealous. They haven’t been able to move onto a new section of the routine since that kiss, but the day is still young and he’s come to the dance studio with a new brand of determination.

And by “determination” he means that he’s had way too much coffee and he’s been practicing in his cabin all night.

As they warm up, he stays focused on the task at hand. From the corner of his eye, however, he can see Emma looking at him. They’ve never talked about the kiss, preferring instead to both pretend it never happened so that nothing has to be more complicated than it already is.

By the time they’ve made it through all of the routine that he’s learned so far, he feels like things are finally on the right track. He doesn’t shy away from the steps or the eye contact today. He pays attention to every little cue Emma gives him. He definitely does not think about how she felt when she clung to him during the best make out session he’s ever had in his life.

He can’t speak for her, but Killian is much more aware of everything that she’s been trying to teach him. He’s more attuned to her body’s movements, and without realizing it, on the third run-through, he follows the muscle memory that she’s been instilling in him this whole time. After just a half hour of working, Emma smiles at him – a genuine smile that he hasn’t seen for days now – and claps her hands. This expression on her face is worth the fact that the entire front of his t-shirt is soaked through.

“Okay! On to the next part.”

Hiding his activities from Liam has been both the easiest thing in the world and the hardest. It’s simple because Liam is so lost in his own adventures that he doesn’t notice Killian isn’t drinking himself into oblivion anymore. It’s difficult, though, because while Liam hasn’t noticed he’s not three sheets to the wind every day, he’s definitely picked up on the fact that Killian isn’t at the cabin for much of the day.

Most days that he leaves, he wanders out in the clothes he’d be wearing if he were going for a walk or down to the main lodge. As it is, he shows up at the studio having to damn near strip some days as he enters the space with the malfunctioning air conditioning.

Today, the whole spacious room is cool and breezy, and Emma quips that they’ve finally gotten a maintenance man to look at the AC. “It won’t make it to next summer, but it’ll do for the rest of this one,” she remarks as they set up for a new section of the dance.

They get lost in their practicing, until Emma’s phone beeps an alert from near the stereo. “Okay. Let’s run the whole thing, best you can, and then I have to clean up and get the studio ready for a yoga class.”

This has been the system for the last two weeks since they began this process. They practice in snatches between Emma’s schedule and the studio’s, having to scurry away and clear out before someone else needs the space.

He follows her lead, figuratively speaking. She doesn’t invite him to her cabin to keep practicing, doesn’t offer to come back to his. And so they stick to whatever time they can use the dance studio and then go their opposite ways for whatever length of time they don’t have that space available.

After they make it through the choreography to Emma’s satisfaction, she lets the music play a little longer as she continues her steps. When it comes to something he obviously would’ve been part of during the dance, she finally tapers off, her shoulders sagging as she finally relaxes.

“Good. Getting better. By next week we should have the whole thing together and it’s just a matter of making sure you look perfect and professional up there.” She makes a noise of surprise, and while Killian doesn’t see anything amiss, there’s obviously something that has just gone off in her mind at her own words and he wonders, but she doesn’t share.

“What time later?” Killian asks, retrieving his t-shirt from the floor where he stripped it off earlier. It had taken a great deal of self-pep talks for him to take it off at all, but even with the air bringing relief, this is the most physical activity outside of a bedroom that he’s had in ages. If his watch is to be trusted, he’s also burning enough calories to allow him to eat for hours on end without making a dent in the progress. He’s noticed, also, that some of his clothes are fitting looser than they were when he got here. It’s all exhausting, though.

“Six. I have two more lessons today but I also have to run into town and get some things done,” she says, grabbing a dry mop from the storage closet next to the stairs. He holds out his hand for it, knowing she still has other tasks to complete in order to leave the studio clean for the next instructor. She hands it over gratefully, going to stash her gear and clean up their discarded towels and water bottles while Killian pushes the dry mop over the polished floors.

“I should have shoes for you before next week so you can start to adjust to those,” she says as if going down some mental checklist of things as she works. She takes a cloth and cleaner to the mirrors, finding all the spots they would’ve made by accidentally (or not so accidentally) leaning against the reflective wall over the last hour.

While Killian usually has no difficulty pushing down his attraction for Emma, as soon as he sees her facing that wall, seeing the way her image is reflected back with her sweaty hair and her pink cheeks, he works on finishing his task faster in order to escape. All he can think is how pretty she’d look, flushed for a whole different reason, with him behind her in that mirror, and he has no room for those kinds of filthy thoughts right now. Not when he’s determined to hold up his end of the bargain and work as hard as possible to make Emma look good and get that job.

“All done,” he says shortly after, stashing the mop and pulling deeply from his bottled water before throwing the empty container in the recycle bin by the floor. “Need anything else?”

She looks at him, not turning from the mirror, her eyes meeting his in her ditto image with a familiar flash of heat in them. “No,” she says at length. Finally turning away from her cleaning and moving to put away the solution. She gathers the towels and rag and turns to him with a distracted smile. “No, that’s it for now. See you later.”

He waves on his way down the stairs, and he’s just opened the door when he nearly runs head first into someone else.

“Killian?”

“What are you doing here?” Killian asks, trying to hide his nervous surprise at seeing Liam at the studio.

“I could ask the same, little brother. Taken an interest in dancing?”

“Thought a lesson or two might be fun,” he says, managing the lie easily enough. He’s positively matted down with sweat, but either Liam doesn’t notice or he thinks Killian really is that badly out of shape.

“Good on you,” he says, a smile lighting up his whole face.

“Killian, I forgot to ask… Oh. Hi.”

It’s difficult to not lock up at the sound of Emma’s voice yelling out behind him, especially when she was clearly not expecting him to be so close with another pair of ears in attendance.

“What did you forget to ask?” It’s Liam that asks for the clarification, since Killian’s throat seems to have closed up entirely in the shock of the moment.

“Ah, just if he still wanted to learn the Waltz, too.” While her voice stutters just a bit, Emma is clearly better at getting through this situation than Killian is. “I’m Emma, one of the – well, the only dance instructor right now. You must be Liam.”

She reaches past Killian to hold out her hand, her body heat nearly pressed against his back when she moves to get closer. Her hand rests on his lower back to hold her steady as she leans forward, and Killian wonders if Emma’s heartbeat has sped up at the contact like his has. Liam shakes her hand, an almost wary look entering his eyes as he does. It probably doesn’t help that Emma looks just as sweaty and disheveled as Killian does, and his eyes widen at the picture they must make and what assumptions Liam is probably jumping to right now.

“That I am. Nice to meet you, lass. My brother’s being a gentleman, isn’t he?” That tone, of course Liam thinks he’s shagging Emma.

“This one? Meek as a mouse sometimes,” Emma says with a hint of a laugh in her voice. He wants to remind her of the night at the staff lodge and that kiss she started and see if either of those moments were “meek” but he has to settle himself with an aggravated noise and a forced smile. Her hand twitches where it still rests on his back.

“Wonderful. Well, if that’s all, I’d like to escape this bloody humidity,” Killian says, turning to give her a look that says everything he can’t right now. With the grin she gives back to him, he’s pretty sure she knows. “Until next time, Swan.”

He starts to wander in the direction of his cabin, but before he walks two steps, the small blonde that runs the yoga sessions is bounding up the path and exuberantly greeting Liam. The words die in her throat when she sees Emma at the entrance of the studio and Killian just in front of them all.

“Oh, hi. Am I early? I know you said you’d be here at ten til, but I’m not double booked, am I?” She’s breathless and smiling, even if she looks puzzled beyond reason.

“No,” Emma says quickly. “I slipped an extra lesson in during my lunch break. We were just heading out. Studio is all yours.” He looks at her while she says it, really looks, and so that’s the only reason he sees the expression that crosses over her features. It’s something like suspicion, with her own hint of guilt. He wonders what’s just gone through her mind, but he decides he’ll ask later when he comes back.

With a vague wave, she’s moving around the back of the studio and off towards wherever her cabin is located behind. He watches her go until Liam clears his throat, but before he can say whatever he clearly wants to say, they’re interrupted again. More voices on the path announces the arrival of the rest of the class, and he notices again the bashful look on Liam’s face and the light flush to Tink’s cheeks.

As the younger of them, Killian wants to beat Liam at giving him the Look, the one passed down through generations of Jones men that means there’s clearly need for them to talk in private, but he’s met with the same expression on Liam’s face.

“I’ll see you for a late lunch in an hour?” Killian inquires as he starts moving down the path.

“I’ll see you then,�� Liam affirms, turning to follow Tink into the studio with the rest of the class walking in behind them.

While he wants to poke around and find Emma, he also knows his boundaries. He also needs a shower, and fresh clothes. With that thought, he pulls out his phone and finds Henry in his contacts, already working on figuring out how to handle laundry as he makes his way back to his side of the camp.

“Yes sir, Mr. Jones?”

“Henry, it’s Killian,” he says, extraneously, as the lad will never loosen up on the title. “I was wondering if you could tell me where to take my laundry so I can have some fresh clothes. I seem to have gone through my supply of certain items and Liam is the one that’s been handling all of that.”

“Of course, Mr. Jones. I’ll meet you at your cabin with my cart and I’ll take you over to our laundromat. All free of course, for guest use.”

“Excellent. Just give me twenty minutes and I’ll be ready for you,” he says, picking up his pace and actually jogging across the campgrounds towards his cabin.

He showers as fast as he possibly can, grabbing whole armloads of all the clothes he’s soaked through and shoving it in the laundry bag he finds at the back of his closet. He’s just barely ready when Henry knocks on the door, and he greets the young man more enthusiastically than he did the first time he met him. That Killian feels like someone he forgot about, quite frankly.

He’s thankful for the ride to and from the laundromat, and Killian assures Henry that he’ll be fine on his own to go switch and retrieve it later on. He makes sure to press a ten dollar bill into Henry’s hand, giving the young man another genuine smile as he checks the time. Liam is due back at any minute, and he knows that whatever they talk about will shift how the rest of this vacation goes for them.

Having slacked on the grocery kiosk order for a week, Killian hobbles together a quick lunch consisting of nothing more than peanut butter sandwiches, thankful for the very last of the bread and jam. He’s refilling his own water glass and setting another for Liam when the screen door opens and his brother walks in.

“So tell me about your sudden interest in dance. Or should I say a sudden interest in dance instructors?”

“If you’re insinuating what I think you are…”

“You know I am. You know they can kick us out if you’re sleeping with the bloody instructor, right?”

“Aye, which is why I would never think to jeopardize our time here by doing so,” Killian says. He’s surprised by this sudden turn in the conversation, but he’s not sure why. He should’ve known Liam would automatically assume he’s doing his best to muck up a good thing. He’s becoming more and more aware of the fact that Emma is that off limits to him, so he doesn’t need the reminder that he’s falling for her shoved back in his face.

It takes a moment, but he realizes they’re both standing behind their chairs, glaring daggers and breathing heavily as if setting up for a brawl.

“I’m not fucking her,” Killian says, making sure to speak the words calmly.

Liam stares at him for a solid ten seconds before his shoulders relax. “I believe you. Can you tell me why you’re suddenly so keen on lessons?”

“No. Because it probably is against the rules, but it’s nothing to do with romantic entanglements. I promised Emma I would help her with a predicament, and that’s why I’m spending so much time with her.”

Liam looks at him for another long moment before dropping his chin to his chest and exhaling loudly. “Fine, fine. You keep your secrets. Just as long as you’re not breaking any laws, I can’t really complain about the fact that you look like you’ve lost nearly a stone since we arrived.”

Killian makes a loud noise at that. “It’s not been that much, you arse.”

Instead of answering, Liam finally seats himself at the table and motions for Killian to sit, as well. The rest of lunch is passed by Liam talking about what he’s found to be his favorite activities, including the yoga sessions that Tink runs in the afternoons.

“Before you jump to your own conclusions, she’s easy to talk to. I’d agreed to help set up the studio with her today which is why I was there early. Had I known the studio was already occupied, and by you no less, I would’ve barged in to say hello.”

“Well, don’t start skulking about hoping to catch us up to anything, unless you want to see some terribly dreadful rhythm.”

“I doubt that, brother. You were always good with learning new things, and you were born with mum’s rhythm in your blood.”

The words help, somehow, knowing that even though Liam doesn’t fully know what he’s up to, he still believes in him.

“Perhaps we should start up lunches together after your yoga sessions,” Killian offers when their sandwiches are gone and they work together to clean up their mostly-tidy kitchenette.

And while the afternoon didn’t start exactly how he imagined it would, when Liam agrees that would be a great idea for them to start connecting again in their own way, it turns out better than he could’ve hoped. Liam even joins him to take his own clothes that need laundered and they spend the rest of the afternoon before he’s set to meet Emma again talking of everything and nothing. Despite having been together all this time, it’s as if the brothers had spent years apart, and Killian wonders how long it’s been since they truly talked like this.

Too long, Killian decides as he dresses in clean shorts and a t-shirt, sliding into socks and shoes before he bids farewell to his brother on his way out the door. Far too long, indeed.

Chapter 5

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan ff #sarah writes ff #cs multichap

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to-try · 6 years

Text

Date

You were sitting with James on your regular booth at your regular coffee shop. You had been going there every day for the last couple of years so Cheryl and Jimmy already knew you well. All your friends were there celebrating that you had finally got the internship of your dreams with Mario Testino as your guidance. James’ hand was on your waist as you raised your coffee cup to make a toast and the first thing you noticed was how Lou’s grin grew wider. Turning your head around, you saw him walking inside the coffee shop with a wide grin on his face.

“Harry.” You heard yourself call him.

He smiled widely at you but his smile dropped the moment he saw James’ hands on your waist. He hadn’t got to meet him. In fact, he didn’t know anything about him and you came to realize you had never mentioned him the few times you had talked to Harry over the last year. Certainly things hadn’t been easy between the two of you and you had done everything in your power to keep some sanity in your relationship so you didn’t end up hating one another.

You had only been together for ten months. Granted, you had known Harry your entire life, being neighbours when you were little and keeping in touch over the years no matter where in the world he was at the moment. You had visited him on tour, he had flied back to you on special dates such as your birthday or your graduation day and after all those years of close friendship when everyone would pick on both of you about how in love you were with one another without saying it, he had eventually made a move on you. He asked you out on a date and it was more of a formality than it was anything else because by then you were already sure you loved him.

The rest is history, a beautiful one, until one day he got the call that he had gotten a role for Christopher Nolan’s movie. This was exactly nine months in your relationship and he had been talking about it nonstop since he had heard about the possibility. At the time, he had just asked you to move in with him in his house in LA and you had said yes but then when this news arrived, you both knew he had to leave. It wouldn’t be for long, just six months in France and of course you could have visited him... A couple times since you were working pretty hard on your last semester in college and you had practices every week. But you could fly to France on a weekend, right? Only the flight was a little over 10 hours to get there and 10 hours to be back... But still, you could be twenty something hours with him... Right?

The problem was your brother got sick, really sick and he got hospitalized without a date of release for they didn’t even know what was wrong with him and then Harry wanted to stay with you. He talked about it with everyone whose opinion he cared about and he kept saying he couldn’t leave for six months leaving you behind with all that weight on your shoulders but you knew how badly he wanted to act in that movie and you had promised yourself you would never hold him back. You had seen that at home, how your dad still blamed your mum for everything he didn’t get to do profesionally because he had to drop out of college and work when your mum got pregnant with your brother. You didn’t want to be that to him, you didn’t want him to regret a decision for the rest of his life so instead you came up with a plan.

It broke your heart but you had to do that for him, you would lose him if that meant he was going to be happier so you called your friend Kyle and asked him to set up a fake affair. You knew the only way of making Harry leave you when you were in pain was hurting him double so you made him believe you were cheating on him with your friend Kyle, who he had always been jealous of. He left to France without talking to you.

You regretted it the first month of him being away. He didn’t try to contact you at all. He gave you the silent treatment for months on end and you couldn’t tell him it was all a lie. Your brother had been diagnoses with an autoinmune disease that just had to be control for him to live a normal life but other than that he was healthy now and Harry was gone and you didn’t know how to live without your best friend so Lou encouraged you to fly all the way to France and tell him but you found out he had a girlfriend, Camille, when you arrived there. You barely talked after that.

“Y/N.” He said, closer to you than he had been in the last year.

“This is James.” You said as you felt James’ hand moving on your back. “My boyfriend.”

It had been a month since your encounter with Harry and things between the two of you were pretty much back to normal. He was back to being your goofy best friend and you were as close as ever. He had told you about his breakup with Camille on his first week back and he had been living in LA for the last month. He was certain he was going to stay, at least for as long as his break lasted which was easy considering both his mum and sister had come with him so you were also catching up on your lost time with the two of them. Harry was currently having a cuppa with Lou on your coffee shop waiting for you to get out of your internship.

“You know I’ve talked to her...” Lou let out before sipping on her tea innocently.

Harry only looked up at her sternly from his cup of tea. She had been bugging him with telling you the truth ever since she heard the shitty story he had told you about his breakup with Camille but he couldn’t do that.

“I haven’t been this close to her in a year, Lou. I’m not going to jeopardise that.”

“You love her.” Lou exasperated.

“And she loves James.” Harry shrugged having a sip of his cup of tea.

“I talked to her and... She still wants to be the photographer of a rock band.” Lou smiled.

Harry looked at her as if she was the most annoying thing on the planet.

”And what does that have to do with me? I’m not even going on tour yet.”

“No” She rolled her eyes “What I mean is... She’s always wanted to be the photographer of a rock band and go on tour with them and all that, right?”

“Yeah.” Harry said, still not knowing where her friend was going.

“But now she is working with Mario Testino for Burberry.”

“Yeah?”

“Well I asked her, even though she is working with Mario Testino because that’s easy and stable, if a rock band just came to her and asked her to join them on tour and be their photographer, would she say yes? And she said yes!”

“So what do you suggest?” Harry asked annoyed. “Do you think I should hire her to be my band’s photographer?”

“No.” She almost yelled. “Even though that’s actually a pretty damn good idea.” She chuckled. “But come on, Haz, it’s clearly a metaphore! She is working somewhere which is safe and stable- she’s with James- but her real dream is working with a rockstar- being with you- and she said if she could work with the rockstar -be with you- then she would leave her job- she would leave James- and go with the rockstar- be with you. You get it?”

“You’re gone.” He nodded as if his friend had just gone insane. “You want me to tell her how I feel about her?”

“That’s right!” She raised her eyebrows as you walked down the street to join them in the cafeteria.

Nuggers, whose real name was Laura even though she wouldn’t let nobody knew about that, the new girl you had met at the office was walking next to you. She wasn’t American either so you could bond over how much you missed your hometowns at work and you had actually become quite close.

“So we’re meeting with Harry the hottie.” She smiled.

“Yes.” You gave her a playful smile catching up with her crush.

“It’s so interesting how you manage to stay friends. I mean when I first met you guys I thought you were together and then I thought he had a crush on you.” She laughed.

“What? No!” You shook your head. “Actually, I’ve been kind of worried about him. He’s been acting so strange around me ever since he came back.”

“Well... I mean... You got to understand... You moved on and he... Well, he didn’t.”

You caught the way he smiled at both of you when he saw you and it was as if the sky was bluer at that very second. That was exactly right. He was weird around you because you had moved on and he hadn’t.

“Okay so I’m going to get you a date.” You said as you sat down next to him.

“What?” He frowned.

“Yes! We used to do that all the time! Don’t you remember? You used to set me up with all your friends before... You know.” You smiled. “I have a wide range of girlfriends you could be interested in so tell me, Hazza, how’s your dream girl?”

“Actually” Louise started making Harry nervously coughed “We were just talking about that.” She smiled. “He’s into a girl.”

“Oh you are?” You smiled.

“Yeah.” Louise said as Harry looked down at his cup of tea.

“Oh well what’s her name?”

“We-”

“We don’t know her name.” Harry cut her off.

“Oh, we don’t?” Your eyes travelled between Harry’s and Louise’s as if you were in a tennis match.

“No, we don’t.”

“Oh.”

“You look disappointed.” Louise said raising her eyebrows and smiling mischieviously at Harry who looked at you and couldn’t help the smirk. “But don’t worry because you know her.” Louise added. “Quite well may I add.”

“Oh do I?” You smiled. “Wait so she is a friend of ours.” You said as Louise nodded and Harry just bit on his bottom lip. “And I know her quite well...” You thought with a smile on your lips, you loved this guessing name. “So how is she?”

“She is... tall.” Harry said without risking too much earning a knick from Lou. “She is not American.” He added. “She’s funny, a little crazy at times.”

“She’s a brunette. She’s got long wavy hair.” Louise added with a smile.

“Not so wavy.” Harry panicked. They were describing you too perfectly. “It’s more... It’s more like... messy, not necessarily wavy.”

“She’s working for Burberry at the moment.” Louise added.

Once again the sky became bluer as Nuggers walked towards you holding both your cups of coffee. How could you be so oblivious? It was so clear for everyone to see!

“Holy shit!” You smiled at them. “Are you serious? Done!”

Harry grinned at you as Louise smiled when you got a call from James.

“Oh shit, it’s James.” You smiled and excused yourself to go talk to him.

“Fuck, she said done!” Harry grinned. “She knows it’s her, doesn’t she? I mean we described her.”

“Of course, you idiot! Couldn’t you see how happy she was?”

“And she said Oh shit it’s James” Harry added “That’s no good.” He smiled. “Holy shit! I might even have a chance to win her back! Thank you Louise!” Harry hugged her and Lou tried to get rid of him as Nuggers got to the table with the two cups of coffee.

You joined Harry on the bar as he ordered a piece of cake with the biggest grin on your face. He grinned back at you and even let out a chuckle.

“What is it with that smile?” He asked.

“I just talked to James.” You smiled. “You better put on your best clothes tomorrow night for the dinner you’re having at my house because you just got yourself a date.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry imagine #harry styles one shot #one shot #harry styles blurb #part 1 #harry styles love #love story #friends #harry styles friends

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imgilmoregirl · 6 years

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Notes: WARNING: I’m not sure if this is should be labeled as “graphic descriptions of violence” but this chapter features the flashback of Robin’s death, so be warned anyway.

The Wrong Decision

Finding Gold in a good mood had been quite a difficult thing for about eight months after the accident happened, but ever since he got back together with Belle, the pawnbroker was constantly spot wearing a tiny smirk in his lips, almost as wider as the one he wore before it all. Almost. The whole town knew by now that they were slowly finding happiness again, if the times they shared quick kisses on the sidewalks and Belle's ever-growing belly weren't enough indicate of that. They were always together now, unafraid of showing everybody how much they loved each other and were fighting for their marriage.

There were things that haven't changed though, like how Belle was still afraid something could happen to their baby boy or how Sarah still looked weak, even with the help of her medicines, but the fact that they were giving the best of themselves to work things out, made everything seem better. Belle seemed better which for him was on top of his list of reasons to be happy. She continued to see Archie two nights a week, but she was now eating more, smiling more and the pills to control her anxiety hadn't been needed.

Her new work seemed to help with that, alongside the fact she hadn't crossed paths with her father too and Gold was determined to not allow Moe to get any near to him. The same could be told of Will Scarlet who he had visited at the Sheriff station shortly after he attacked his wife. In that occasion Gold had found him lazily laid on a very uncomfortable, small bed and with David Nolan's consent he approached him for a talk.

"Mr. Gold," he greeted him with a nod, sitting up. "What can I do for you?"

Robert took some threatening steps towards him, grabbing the bars of his cell and narrowing his eyes at that damned man. If it wasn't for the cell between them he would have already jumped on his throat.

"You can stay the hell away from my wife," Gold said behind gritted teeth. "If you ever get anywhere near her again, I swear I'll make you regret it. What kind of man would harass a pregnant woman?"

"Being pregnant doesn't make her any less hot. I bet you agree with that."

"You son of a - "

"Alright, Gold, time is over," David Nolan intervened. "We will take good care of him, don't worry. He has another two weeks of enclosure to decide to never get any closer to Isabelle again."

It wasn't of any reassurance for him, but if Will insisted in being the jerk he was, then things wouldn't end in a pretty way. That he would make sure of, but that conversation had happened days ago, now he was making the shop's monthly inventory and trying to rush it as he had promised to pick Belle and Sarah up from the school and he still had to go out to buy some lunch before knocking on a few doors to collect the rent.

Flipping a page, Gold snorted, hearing the bell on the front of the shop jingle, announcing the arrival of a costumer - or in this case, just an annoying idiot. He lifted his eyes to see detective Rogers walking towards him with a fierce look on his face.

“Fuck off,” Gold said immediately.

“The sign on your door says you are open,” Rogers retorted.

“I don’t care what the damn sign says, the shop is mine and I’m saying we are closed for you.”

“Enough of this, Gold,” the detective shouted out. “I know the truth. I’ve talked with Zelena.”

At these words, Gold closed the book in which he was writing, pulling the pen down above it very carefully. It had been a long time ever since he last heard that name, but whenever it came up, it didn't bring any good news with it.

“Congratulations then, detective," he started in a calculated voice. "You’ve unlocked this town’s darkest secret, now you have to decide what to do with it.”

“I’ve already decided," Rogers said without any hesitation, "that’s why I’m here. I’m going to put Jonathan Hades in jail and you are going to help me.”

“I’m sorry if I didn’t make this enough clear for you, but no, I won’t.”

“He killed your son,” the man screamed, his voice echoing in the shop's walls.

A long sigh escaped Gold. He was the first to want Hades to pay for what he did. He had been the one to feel all the pain and he didn't want to give that twisted man a second chance at ruining his life, but if he agreed with it, he would only bring Hades' eyes over his family again and that couldn't happen.

“Yes, and think twice, detective, you have a daughter yourself. I had this same mission a year ago, I had this same sense of justice, I wanted to free this town from that bastard, but then, tables turned and I lost my boy,” Robert said, slowly. “I’ve made the wrong decision once, I won’t make it twice. I still have people I care about, a very pregnant wife and a lovely daughter, who I would kill to protect, so no I won’t get involved in Regina’s shitty avenge plan.”

Rogers furrowed at him.

“Are you really afraid of Hades?”

“I’m not afraid of him, he is just a coward with money and a few mortal tools. But he was the one to destroy my life and now that I’ve found happiness again, I’m not willing to risk it.”

The detective sighed, tapping his fingers together as he took his time to think. It was obvious that Gold wasn't giving in because he had a family to protect, but if his name wasn't involved in the investigation then maybe things could work.

“You have the clue, the proof that he killed Robin,” Rogers carefully pointed out. “Give it to me and I will assume all the consequences.”

Gold looked down, tracing the edges of his notebook. He didn't know if he should this, but maybe if he only gave Rogers the right information, then the idiot could figure things out on his own.

“Anastasia. Will’s ex-fiancée,” he responded. “She was at the park in the day Robin was murdered, she saw everything. The cameras filmed her, which is why the video from that night is missing. Will is the only one who has access to it, he was going to give it to me, but after the accident, he gave it to Ana and told her to never come back to town again.”

Nodding, Rogers gave him a tiny smile.

“I will find her, then I will arrest Hades and you can be sure your family will stay safe.”

Turning around, the detective left, but Gold wasn't sure of anything he was actually trying to decide if he had done the wrong choice or not. He turned around then and opened the safe, taking his gun from inside of it and knowing that it was better to be safe than sorry.

Belle couldn’t manage to sleep. Half an hour tried to, but every single position she tried felt uncomfortable, her belly wasn’t even that big yet, but it already felt too heavy and the fact that Robert hadn’t come back home yet was making her anxious and she didn’t really want to have to take any pills to calm down her heart. She stood up then, made the bed – because Belle had quite a complex with messy sheets and she wasn’t going to sleep on an unmade bed – and curled herself up on the arm chair and opened a romance.

Her day at the school had been lovely and she couldn’t wait to tell her husband all the details about the gardening experience they were trying with the kids, but he had called her during the break to tell Belle he had a few things to do and wouldn’t be able to pick her and Sarah up from school, so they should go home walking, which was exactly what they did.

A little walking wasn’t a problem for her at all, nor was spending the night alone with her daughter – although Sarah complained a lot about the poor taste of her dinner – but what she truly cared about was the reason that was keeping her husband away until so late. The last time he had arrived home after six was when he was making those investigations to Regina and all of them knew it didn’t have a good ending.

Sighing, Belle dropped the book she was holding to her lap, mindlessly stroking her bump and feeling an insistent little feet kick against her spine, making her hiss in pain. In that moment, the door of the bedroom was opened to reveal Gold, who had a bad and his jacket hanging in one hand as the other tugged at his tie, unfastening it.

“Hey, I was sick worried about you,” Belle exclaimed, standing up and reaching for him, taking the things he was holding and pulling them down to the bed before she helped him to free himself from the tie and he kissed her lips. “Sarah tried to stay awake until you arrived but she passed out half an hour ago.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I needed to take care of a few things, I hope the walk home haven’t exhausted you,” he answered touching her face with a preoccupied look in his brown eyes.

“I’m fine,” she guaranteed. “I was just concerned.”

“You’re crying,” Gold pointed out, furrowing as he brushed the tears away from her face.

She hadn’t realised it, but crying shouldn’t be a surprising thing for Belle at this point, as the last year of her life could be summarised in tears and more tears. It didn’t make her hate to feel this emotional any less. Back when she was pregnant with Sarah, she had been a perfect ray of sunshine, but she had also fallen asleep on her desk plentily enough times, which wasn’t good too, so she guessed she couldn’t complain.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, it’s the hormones and the baby changed his position which is killing me with pain,” she explained.

“Sit on the bed,” Robert said. “I’ll give you a backrub.”

He went straight to the closet, kicking off his shoes in the process, as Belle accommodated herself in the bed again. Gold reappeared some moments later with a bottle of her favourite body moisturizer in hands and settled himself behind her, pulling the nightgown off her and spreading some of the cream on her back.

Some sort of purr left her when his long fingers pressed up and down her back, relieving some of the pressure there, which appeared to bother the baby as she felt him moving away from the place his father was rubbing. Her belly waved at the movement, which was both weird and fascinating at the same time, but the pain was gone and that was all that mattered.

“Mm, that’s a bit better.”

“Belle, my love, can you open my bag, please?” Gold asked, spreading more of the moisturizer on her skin and she reached for it, opening the zipper. “Get the gun from inside.”

Her breath got caught on her throat as she lifted the silver object, feeling her hands start to tremble.

“What are you doing with it?”

“I want you to have it and to carry it with you wherever you go.”

“What? Why?”

Belle moved away, sitting in front of him so she could look at his eyes. She thought the whole story about this gun was over, but apparently it was not and trying to imagine his reasons to bring it to her, made Belle feel sick for the first time in weeks.

“Because Rogers came into my shop today and he is very close to the end of his investigation,” Robert said. “Hades can come for us again and if he is stupid enough to try touching you, I want you to have a way of defending yourself.”

“I can’t shoot him,” she swallowed, looking down at the gun and feeling suddenly terrified of it.

Gold shook his head, placing both his hands on her naked shoulders, rubbing circles on her skin with his thumbs. She was about to start crying again and it was the very last thing he wanted, but they needed to have this frank conversation, for own safety.

“Sweetheart, if you had to choose between that little son of a bitch’s life and yours – our child’s, you can’t hesitate.”

“Bobby… You’re scaring me.”

“I don’t want to, but I can’t lose you, Belle,” he said and she saw that there were tears in his eyes too. “I can’t lose any of you.”

“What if he comes for you?” Belle asked. “What are you going to use to defend yourself?”

“This gun is new, the old one is still in my safe.”

She nodded, sliding off the bed.

“I’ll, put it in my purse.”

Taking long, deep breaths, as Archie had taught her, Belle made her way towards the chair in which she left her school stuff, opening her purse and laying the gun inside, right above a red scarf she used to keep in there for when the day got suddenly colder. Nobody would see it this way and she could try to forget it was there herself.

“May I ask you something?” Belle inquired as she sat back beside her husband, taking her nightgown and pulling it back.

“Aye.”

“You told me once that you wanted to use the gun to take your own life… Why?”

Robert looked away from her face at the same time he pulled her closer to his body, allowing Belle to lay her head on his chest, but she kept staring at him instead of just looking down as he was doing. Ever since the day he let those words slip from his mouth, her heart had been aching some kind of despair that she hadn’t yet experienced.

“There was a time, after you were gone that I couldn’t feel anything but pain,” Gold started. “I spent my days locked in that shop drinking until I was numb. I blamed myself for the accident, for pushing you away and the fact that our family was destroyed was too much for me.”

“Oh, babe…”

“I was raised by my two crazy aunties, my mom died in childbirth and my father never wanted me, as you well know, my ex-wife disappeared before Bae was one and then she died of overdose. I was a bitter when we met and I had the perfect past to become a horrible person, but you brought the light I needed to my life, Belle, you became the mother my son needed and the companion I’ve always wanted for life. With you I had everything I never thought I could have, but then it all was over and I couldn’t accept it. I stopped taking my heart medicines, started drinking and staring at the gun…” He trailed off as if just talking about it took his breath away. “I drowned deep in darkness. The good things I had were gone and I didn’t want to be alive anymore.”

She reached up to touch his face and was surprised to feel that his cheeks were wet with a few tears. Her poor love had suffered as much as she did during their separation and she hated herself for not having noticed it earlier.

“Robert, I’m so sorry that you ever felt like this,” Belle whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I love you so much and I won’t ever leave you again.”

“I know, and I love you too.”

She pressed their lips together again then, giving everything, she had in that kiss, because he had helped her healing and she wanted to do the very same for him.

Two years ago.

Anastasia regretted going away by the moment she left Storybrooke, but she wasn’t one to admit it and she probably would never have done such a thing if she hadn’t found herself so unhappy, which was the reason why she entered the local park that particular night, hours after it closed. The was a particularly cold night and she was wrapped inside a big red coat, trying to figure out exactly what she should say to Will when she saw him again.

It had been a long time since they last spoke to each other and she wasn’t sure if he was willing to forgive her, but she hoped so, because even after all that time she still loved him with all her heart. She made her way towards the cabin in which Will and Robin usually stayed for a drink or a game after the work was done and from where she was, Ana could already see the lights of it, which made her smile as she remembered some of the occasions she spent in there, planning for her future with Will.

Maybe, she thought, this night could be one of those and he could accept her back without much questioning. Anastasia almost felt hopeful with her own fantasies as she kept walking, but it was a loud sound of pain that echoed in the quiet of the night that made her stop, taking her out of her musings. There was a muffled bang and another groan that caused her to jump in place and hide herself behind a tree as she peeked a look at the most horrific scene she had ever witnessed in her life.

Robin de Locksley was stirred on the ground, curling himself in a ball, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth as another man, dressed all in black kicked his back and made him gasp for air again. Ana covered her mouth with a hand, trying to prevent herself from screaming when the man reached for a long, large piece of wood and used it to beat Robin again, taking another painful scream from him.

“You thought I would never find out, right, you vermin?” The man said and suddenly Anastasia recognised his voice. Jonathan Hades, one of the town’s most powerful men. “You helped that bitch to kill something that was mine.”

“She was afraid of you…” Robin coughed.

“Of course, she was, and so should you,” Hades insisted, beating him up again. The sounds were terrifying and Ana was already crying in fear. “You should learn, dear Robin, to mind your own business.”

Hades had a wild look on his face as he took a gun out of his jacket’s pocket and made Ana lose all of her air. She was about to scream out loud, to do something to prevent him from doing what he clearly intended, but then she felt a hand pressing hard to her mouth and looked back to see Will gesturing for her to get quiet and she focused into looking at his eyes when the sound of three consecutive shoots reached them.

Eyes closed she started crying silently as Hades left the park and, when they were sure he was gone, Anastasia freed herself from will, rushing towards Robin to find his limp body bleeding in the floor, his blue eyes opened and staring up at her. She sobbed and looked back at Will, certainly not the reunion she expected.

“I’ll call the Sheriff,” Ana said in a trembling voice.

“No,” Will shook his head. “You have to get out of here. I’ll make an anonymous call when I’m home, but nobody can find out we witnessed this. You saw what Hades is capable of.”

She licked her lips, wanting to fight against him at the same time she wanted to say all the things she had planned to, but Anastasia was too scared right now to do any of it, so she nodded and, turning around, she also left the park.

Present days.

“Can you tell me again why are you kidnapping us? I promised Alice I would visit little Maggie,” Belle said, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes at Gold. “I even bought her a present!”

Gold sighed, reaching for her tight and caressing her as he drove. He had awakened that day and insisted for Belle and Sarah to pack because they were going to spend the weekend away in their cabin. He wasn’t sure if his wife would agree as that place was full of memories of them with Bae and they had spent quite good days with him in there on the last summer before he died, but he felt like, away from the rest of the town he could get himself some peace of mind, so he bought lots of food, picked some board games and toys to distract Sarah and tucked them inside the car.

“You can see the baby any other day, sweetheart. I can assure you she won’t be any less cute on Monday than she is today,” he said, starting to make his way through the woods.

“I was planning on throw her a baby shower,” Belle complained, crossing her hands over her own belly, “but Maggie came a week earlier than she was supposed to.”

“Babies doesn’t like to wait.”

She sighed but nodded in agreement, continuing to pet the little mound that was now her stomach. This pregnancy was way different than it had been with Sarah – who had been a baby that liked to wait, as she was born at forty weeks, all chubby cheeks and pink skin – Belle felt different symptoms than she did the first time around and her belly was way smaller than it had been at this same stage. He thought it was maybe due to her problems with eating during her first trimester.

“When are we going to get my baby brother?” Sarah asked from the backseat, stretching herself forward so she could take a better look at her parents.

“In about two or three months, darling,” Belle answered.

“Can we call him Bae like my other brother?”

Gold couldn’t help but quickly glance back at her, to see that the little girl was blinking her amazingly blue eyes at him in a pleading way, but by his side, Belle had held onto a breath, hands tightening on her belly. That was the last thing she needed to her and he knew the word “replacement” was probably being screamed out loud inside her mind.

“That’s not a good idea Sarah and I’m sure Bae would like him to have his own name.”

“Can I choose it?”

“You can help to,” he added softly.

“Can we call him Bobby like mama calls you, papa?”

“Let’s try original names Sarah,” Gold chuckled.

He parked the car in front of the family’s cabin, something he had acquired as soon as he moved to Storybrooke, almost twelve years ago. They had spent good moments in there, family moments – Belle, Bae and him, then later in life, Sarah too – and some romantic moments too, whenever they could leave the children with a nanny. Gold sighed, hearing both Belle and Sarah to unbuckle their seat belts and a moment later, Sarah had jumped to his lap, tapping a finger to his chin to call for his attention.

“Can we swim on the lake?”

“I’m sorry, honey, but it is too cold for that,” it was Belle who answered. “Let’s hope papa has some fun ideas for us other than curl under the blankets for two days.”

“Oh, I have all the best ideas,” he replied with a wink as she suddenly started to giggle, but she wasn’t even looking at him anymore, but down at her own lap, hands running up and down her stomach. “What are you laughing at?”

“The baby,” she said, taking his hand in her and pressing it to a point lower in her belly. “Feel it.”

It wasn’t a kick, like he was used to feel, but a wave that brought the biggest of the smiles to his lips, because his child was apparently playing within its mother and it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

“I want to feel it too,” Sarah exclaimed, pushing Gold’s hand away to press both of hers in her mother’s belly.

The two girls he most loved in that world shared a smile and Robert moved to open up the car’s door, getting out of it and giving then a moment as he picked their bags and took then to the porch. It didn’t take long for Belle and Sarah to follow him, walking hand to hand as he swung the door open and they faced the cabin.

He took a long breath and for the first time ever since he woke up that day and decided to go there, Gold wondered if he wasn’t just pulling his family through a weekend full of ghosts.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #mine #writing #rumplestiltskin #belle french #baelfire #neal cassidy #ao3 #fanfic

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