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lihikainanea · 11 months

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I am picturing Bill having this specific hobby/thing he likes (a book, a game, an album, etc.) and Tiger knows about it. it's not really Her Thing but she can dabble into it (learn it, experience it). and then one day Bill talks about it and Tiger just simply agrees with him, says a few points of her own about how she's grown to like it, and Bill is just a bundle of emotions. because it's a lot of things at once. she took the time to see what it was about? and then as he listens to her talk about it more it's all OF COURSE she'd get it. OF COURSE she understands the joy he gets from it, why it means so much to him, and so on. it's just a simple moment, but Bill feels so seen and it hits him like a truck. he is so in love. they end up snuggling. :'D

oh god, what if it's something so completely out there and something so not-on-brand that he's actually a little bit shy about it? What if it's something so absurd like....like crochet, nani.

IT'S CROCHET ISN'T IT.

And I'll bet tiger thinks it's real sweet right? Because maybe Granny taught Bill how to crochet. Maybe they'd kind of spend hours together over tea and madeleines, Bill would be holding the ball of yarn while Granny's hands went a mile a minute, and eventually Bill just kind of...well, he picked it up too. And tiger thinks it's so sweet, this big dude with these huge clumsy hands, but the thing is...Bill is kind of really good at it. Like, really good. So tiger also appreciates having all kinds of warm socks and mittens and toques all custom made. And Bill is pretty damn talented, so he crochets all kinds of fancy patterns with all kinds of colours and every once in awhile when a mutual friend compliments tiger's new cute mittens, Bill just sort of smiles shyly and lets himself be a little proud.

And like, he's also super into it, you know? Once he lets go of the initial embarassment. Maybe once tiger points out that literally thousands--if not millions--of people have seen his ween (And literally the ween of nearly every male in his family) on a big screen so a little crafty habit is nothing to be ashamed of. He's part of groups. Facebook groups, online groups. One is for troubleshooting, which he turned to when he couldn't figure out why his current project was just getting wider and wider or when his chain was too tight or he was only crocheting in the front loop. One is for inspo, all kinds of things he wants to create. And one is a legit little support group in the area that meet up every so often, and Bill wishes so badly that he could go but he just doesn't want the visibility. He knows he's the only man in the group, and he's...well, he's him. it would cause a stir.

So my girl tiger--ever the one to indulge her Big Dude in all of his adorable weirdness--maybe there are like, CONS for these things. A Crochet-Con. And she gets wind of one happening about 2 hours away, way in the country side. There's only about 100 people or so who attend, it's so niche, and after some careful creeping tiger realizes that the average age of the participants is like, 80.

Nobody will know who he is there.

It's a whole 2-day event. There's discussion groups to troubleshoot common issues. There's a workshop on crocheting complex patterns. There's a small trade show area where you can sell some of your goods. So tiger gets two tickets, prints them out, and gets all giddy.

Maybe she wanted to keep it a surprise for longer, but when she bounced into the living room she saw her big dorky dude there on the couch, his thick rimmed glasses on, a foot propped up on the coffee table. His tongue was poking out the side of his mouth in concentration as his gaze was fixed on the small crochet hook, the ball of yarn, and this dainty, intricate pattern between his huge hands.

"I have a surprise for you," she smiles, plopping down on the couch. Without missing a beat Bill passes her the ball of yarn and she instinctively unravels some of it as his little crochet hook bobs and weaves at an impressive speed.

"Oh yeah?" he smirks but doesn't look away, "What's that?"

She puts her hand on the small pattern he's creating but he squawks.

"I'll drop a stitch!" he shrieks, then inspects the little piece of fabric thoroughly. Tiger just quirks a brow, and waits.

"Crisis averted?" she chuckles.

"Barely," he snarks, then he softens. "What's up kid?"

Tiger pulls the tickets out from behind her back and hands them to him, and he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"Hooker Con?" he asks skeptically.

"Keep reading."

He scans the rest of the writing, and then his eyes light up.

"It's a crochet con?" he asks excitedly. She nods, smiling.

"It's two days?" he continues reading, "Troubleshooting, discussions, workshop--oh my god, the Jasmine stitch?! that one's impossible to do!"

"It's in two weeks," she says, "I thought it might be fun."

But then suddenly, his face falls.

"Tiger, what about--"

"They won't," she answers his silent question, "I creeped a few past...Hookers. They're all in their 80s bud. I don't think it'll be an issue. And if you're worried, we can glue a beard on you. Slap a wig on."

He smiles at her, leaning over to kiss her.

"There's two tickets," he mumbles, "You're going to come?"

"Of course," she chuckles, "I'd love to."

"But it's crochet," he says shyly.

"It's you," she tells him with another kiss, "And I love this little hobby of yours. I think it's sweet."

"You do?"

"Of course. And I want to...FOTH and frog and HOTH all weekend with you."

Bill laughs boisterously.

"I love it when you talk dirty to me," he chuckles.

#bill skarsgard #bff!bill #bill skarsgard fanfic #bill skarsgard drabble #bill skarsgard fic #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard fiction

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booksteaandtoomuchtv · 10 months

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In The Lonely Hour (10/10)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | AO3

Summary: A collection of canon-compliant(ish) one-shots that provide glimpses of Killian's life based on the album "In the Lonely Hour" by Sam Smith.

Latch What came (wink-wink) after the party at Granny's ended?

PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS CHAPTER IS MATURE/EXPLICIT.

Author Note: As mentioned at the end of the last update, this story will end happily so that you don't have to dig for the happy ending in the canon. You, dear reader, have endured enough. Thank you for coming along on this journey with me. This was, I'll admit, an odd little, pet project. But, it gave me a fantastic outlet on the days in which I was struggling to find the words for Witchy Woman or having a shite day at work - it has been a bloody trying year, love. I am going to miss this strange little series.

Emma had not stopped touching him since Regina stormed off from Granny’s Diner. When she wasn’t touching him her gaze was heavy on him, as physical a thing as the little brushes when she was near him and the warm hand she placed on his shoulder when she reached for an onion ring from his plate.

“Hook, are you…blushing?”

The dreamy haze that had settled around him since Emma had kissed him earlier in the evening cleared instantly. His attention snapped to Snow; her face was the very picture of innocence, but her eyes were dancing with a mischievousness of which he hadn't thought her capable.

He could not well say, "Your daughter covertly brushed her hand over my lap. When she caressed a certain aspect of my anatomy before pulling her hand away, I found suppressing my reaction to her boldness was difficult. It is my embarrassment at such a quick response to her ministrations that has heated my face, Your Majesty."

"Oh, look! Neal has finally drifted to sleep." Emma's voice was soft and dripping with adoration for the infant in Snow's arms. Killian could feel, more than hear, the laughter in her words that were so clearly - to him, anyway - said only to save him from answering Snow.

Snow dropped her interest in him immediately and pulled David from his conversation with Leroy to gather their belongings. They were out the door dramatically whispering goodbyes a moment later. The gathered court of townsfolk started to make their own exits with the naming ceremony seemingly at an end.

"Thank you, Love," Killian said as they left the diner, his arm wrapped around her waist as they walked. She dismissed his gratitude with a shrug that brought her closer to his side. Holding her tight, he directed their steps toward the docks. He didn't have a plan; he just couldn't let this evening come to an end so soon.

"Wrong way."

"I thought we could walk the docks before you returned home for the night, Swan."

"I'm not going home tonight." Emma held up a room key from the Inn with a suggestive smile that promised him all manner of things.

Raising an eyebrow, he tugged her into him so that her chest was pressed firmly against his, and he could show her exactly how much he liked the ideas floating through his mind at her offer. His voice was low and filled with dark desire when he asked, "Love, are you certain?"

She pressed her hips into him, his cock jerked at the contact, a groan rumbled through him, and she laughed, a wicked little laugh, at his responsiveness to her touch. She pushed herself up so their lips could touch, but caught his lower lip between her teeth. She'll kill me.

"Show me that I was right to stay," she challenged him.

"As you wish."

At last, they pushed open the door to their room for the night and he realised that he really was going to have Swan all to himself for the night. He bit his lower lip against the smile pulling at his lips at the unexpected outcome of this evening. Her eyes tracked the movement. When he released his lip and ran his tongue over his teeth, her gaze darkened with desire. He kicked the door closed behind him, his eyes locked on hers.

"You've been thinking about this, us. Haven't you, love?" He crossed to her, pulling her against him again - a feeling he was growing addicted to already. He kissed her deeply, pouring his need into each kiss, tasting her desire in return, as he slowly backed toward the bed. She pressed further into him, a whimper escaping her when he broke from their kiss to nip at her neck. Soothing the bite with a warm kiss, he continued, his voice low, "Ever since you pulled me into your beautiful, cruel, lips in Neverland."

"Lips that I saw every time I closed my eyes for the last year. Lips that I will never tire of kissing." He returned to kissing her, any response she may have formed lost to the demands his kiss issued.

The bed hit the back of his knees. He turned them so that her back was to the bed and he nudged her gently onto the bed. Kneeling before her, he pushed off her jacket. A sudden vulnerability entered her gaze and he gave her a questioning look, hand teasing the button of her shirt, as he waited for her confirmation to continue.

She shook her head; he stilled immediately.

Killian cautiously removed his from her shirt and sat back on his heels. Stay the night, anyway. The words were right there, reassurance that he only wanted her presence. He wasn't going to ask for anything more from her. He licked his lips to speak, but she let out a breath and pulled off her shirt - let me do this and you do all that, she gestured vaguely at his assemble.

He complied with quick efficiency, managing to disrobe before her. He was rewarded with time enough to watch as she wiggled out of her tight jeans, peeling her underthings off with them. She stood up, looking at his face as if searching for any indication that he was not absolutely entranced by the goddess before him. She could search for days and she’d still fail to find one.

“Even more stunning than I imagined.” When she glowed at his words giving him her rare full smile (she had likely realised he hadn’t exaggerated or lied), his heart soared - she was trusting him, giving him a small part of herself. He was suddenly desperate to hold her, to feel her skin against his, to know how she tasted, to hear every sound she would offer him, to know every perfect inch of her.

He closed the small space between them and tumbled her onto the bed with him. She let out a surprised laugh and rolled on top of him, her legs straddling his waist. He drank in the stunning sight above him and the comfortable weight of her on top of him.

“Everything you imagined, Hook?” She smirked with confidence that hadn’t been there moments before, confidence that he helped her find. He pulled her down to him; it had been too long since he’d tasted her lips on his. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on the back of her head as his fingers dug gently into her hair, clutching her close to him. He dragged his hook lightly along her back and she gasped into his mouth.

“You enjoyed that, did you?”

She rolled her hips, dragging her pussy along his shaft, his hips jerked up, providing friction for her. “Take what you need, Love,” he purred, before sucking her nipple into his mouth.

As she repeated the motion, with increasing pressure in each repetition, he scraped his teeth on the sensitive skin on her breast before teasing her nipple once more with his tongue. His hand was occupied with her other breast, rolling and pinching the nipple between his fingers. When her movements became more erratic and her breathing turned ragged, he flipped their positions and settled his head between her thighs. “Killian, wha-?”

“I need to taste you on my tongue, Swan,” he answered, his arms sliding under her hips and opening her up to him. His hook was heavy on her thigh, holding it in place, as he licked her dripping pussy with the flat of his tongue.

A satisfied mmm escaped him at the headiness that accompanied the first tangy taste of her. “Bloody delicious, bloody perfect,” he muttered into her centre.

He looked up at her answering moan - his name somewhere in that intoxicating sound- her eyes were closed and one hand reached down to fist his hair, pushing his head back down between her legs. He reached his hand up to her other one, gripping her tightly in his while he resumed licking and sucking her folds. She kept his head firmly in place, a demand to continue, as she began to ride his tongue, a sharp sweetness filling his senses.

“That’s it, love,” he encouraged as her movements became irregular again. Freeing his left arm from under her leg, he dipped his tongue into her core and provided her with the pressure she needed on her clit with the flat of his hook. She bucked hard against him, her creamy release on his tongue, and his name falling from her lips. She untangled her fingers from his hair as he softly sucked her pussy clean of her cum.

“Killian,” she whimpered, squirming away, sensitive after her orgasm. Killian pulled away from her, reluctantly, and dragged himself up to lie next to her. He rested his head on her chest, listening to the wild beat of her heart, enjoying the knowledge that he affected her so much. Her hand now playing gently with his hair as she basked in the pleasant haze following her orgasm.

“That was,” she breathed, “fuck, Killian. That was…”

“You were absolutely incredible, Love.” He wiggled his head, as if nestling further into her chest, and started to slowly, very lightly, drag the tip of his hook along the inside of her thighs, across her mound, and down the other thigh in a teasing pattern. After a few iterations, she slid her legs together capturing his hook for a moment, before relaxing her legs down again, a new slickness visible on her thigh.

“Look how eager you are.” He ran the back of his hook between her legs and lifted it up between them so they could both see the evidence of her desire on its surface, “so wet for me already, Swan.”

He shifted onto his elbows and slide his legs between hers. He kissed her again, hips gently moving his head against her slick entrance, the warm wetness coating him. “Love, may I -“

Emma wrapped her legs around his hips and slammed him into her tightness, they gasped in unison, and the warmth and wetness that enveloped him wrecked what remained of his control. Yes, Killian. He lifted her hips and continued hammering into her and she met him at every thrust. Killian, please, more. He tilted his hips, exploring new angles and depths with each stroke. Whatever you need, Love. Her inhale told him that he found what he sought and he focused his thrusts there. I-oh-Killy. He kept up the pace. You’re stunning. Demanding more. He lowered his hand between them, stimulating her clit with his thumb as he continued his deep strokes. I will give you everything, Emma, you only have to ask. Her walls tighten around him, squeezing him, his release following hers, as he watched her shattered, completely and openly, beneath him. “Go ahead, mo grá. I’ve got you.”

When he finally separated from her, rolling them so he could hold her close to him, he stilled. He realised the words that had slipped from him, words he’d never spoken to a woman - my love. It was unlikely this realm contained the same languages as the Enchanted Forest. It was unlikely that she would know the rare language that his mother had whispered for only him when he’d wake far into the night all those centuries ago.

Her head was heavy on his brace and her breathing had become soft and even, Killian smiled. She had fallen asleep, so quickly, wrapped up in his arms. He watched in awe- Emma Swan, the constructor of the most impenetrable walls, was curled up in his arms, sleeping peacefully, trusting him to keep her safe through the dark of the night. An honour bestowed on him that he didn’t deserve but would gladly accept any night she’d offer it to him.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and whispered into her hair, “Go ahead, mo grá. I’ve got you.”

#In The Lonely Hour #fic by jas #writes by jas #i gave you a happy ending #teeheehee #get it?#based on Sam Smith's album of the same name #killian jones #captain swan #once upon a time #emma swan #captain hook #killian x emma #cs fanfic #cs ff #ouat #manip by jas #cs smut #there’s smutty seas ahead

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brian-in-finance · 11 months

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Outlander Watch S05E06 Better To Marry Than Burn

Connecting The 🟡 Dots

🟡 ⚜️👑 Season Five to One to Seven

The Show

The soldier looks to see that the Dragoon Lieutenant is heading back to his horse. As Morna walks back to the carriage, her SHOE gets stuck in the MUD.

The soldier bends down to help her -- as he does, he spies something STRAPPED UNDERNEATH THE CARRIAGE: a WOODEN BOX….

He’s slid the box out from its fastenings and has opened it to reveal BARS OF GOLD. He holds one up, engraved with a FLEUR DE LIS.

Official Script S05E6 Better To Marry Than Burn

Gifs: @lochiels

The Book

It was a company of English soldiers, Cumberland’s men. Arriving too late to join in the victory at Culloden, they were inflamed by news of it—but frustrated at not sharing in the battle, and only too ready to wreak what vengeance they could on fleeing Highlanders.

Always a quick thinker, Hector had sunk back in the corner of the coach at sight of them, his head bent and a shawl pulled over it, pretending to be an aged crone, sunk in sleep. Following his hissed instructions, Jocasta had leaned out of the window, prepared to pose as a respectable lady traveling with her daughter and mother.

The soldiers had not waited to hear her speech. One yanked open the door of the coach, and dragged her out. Morna, panicked, had leapt out after her, trying to pull her mother away from the soldier. Another man had grabbed the girl, and dragged her back, so that he stood between Jocasta and the coach.

“Another minute, and they meant to have ‘Grannie’ out on the ground as well—and then they would find the gold, and it would be all up wi’ all of us.”

A pistol shot startled all of them into momentary immobility. Leaning from the coach’s open door, Hector had fired at the soldier holding Morna—but it was dusk and the light was poor; perhaps the horses had moved, jostling the coach. The shot struck Morna in the head.

“I ran to her,” Jocasta said. Her voice was hoarse, her throat gone dry and thick. “I ran to her, but Hector jumped out and seized me. The soldiers were all standing, staring with the shock. He dragged me back, into the coach, and shouted to the groom to drive, drive on!”

She licked her lips and swallowed, once.“‘She is dead,’ he said to me. Over and over, ‘She is dead, you cannot help,’ he said, and held me tight when I would have thrown myself from the coach in my despair.”

The Fiery Cross, Chapter 53

🟡 ⚜️ 👑

The Show

My father was a Fraser. A younger half-brother to the present master... Colum and Dougal... my mother was Ellen, the elder sister of Colum and Dougal. Colum wished my mother to marry Malcolm Grant. — Jamie Fraser

Transcript S01E07 The Wedding

Instagram S01E07 The Wedding

The Book

“Oh, aye. Ellen was the eldest o’ the six MacKenzie bairns—a year or two older than Colum, and the apple of auld Jacob’s eye. That’s why she’d gone so long unwed; wouldna ha’ aught to do wi’ John Cameron or Malcolm Grant, or any of the others she might have gone to, and her father wouldna force her against her will.”

When old Jacob died, though, Colum had less patience with his sister’s foibles. Struggling desperately to consolidate his shaky hold on the clan, he had sought an alliance with Munro to the north, or Grant to the south. Both clans had young chieftains, who would make useful brothers-in-law. Young Jocasta, only fifteen, had obligingly accepted the suit of John Cameron, and gone north. Ellen, on the verge of spinsterhood at twenty-two, had been a good deal less cooperative. — Old Alec

Outlander/Cross Stitch, Chapter 24

🟡 ⚜️ 👑

The Show

There were three of us when the gold came ashore from France. Dougal MacKenzie took one-third and Hector Cameron another. I was the third man, tacksman to Malcolm Grant, who sent me… But it came too late to make a difference to the cause. So Grant used it for the good of the clan. I dinna know what Dougal did with his, but Hector Cameron, he fled. He was a traitor. And his wife wi' him. I only had to set eyes on River Run to see where the gold had been spent. But not all of it. — Arch Bug

Transcript S07E03 Death Be Not Proud

IMDb S07E03 Death Be Not Proud

The Book

“Ye were the third man, were ye not?” Jamie asked, disregarding this. “When the gold was brought ashore from France. Dougal MacKenzie took one-third, and Hector Cameron another. I couldna say what Dougal did with his—gave it to Charles Stuart, most likely, and may God have mercy on his soul for that. You were tacksman to Malcolm Grant; he sent ye, did he not? You took one-third of the gold on his behalf. Did ye give it to him?”

Arch nodded, slowly.

“It was given in trust,” he said, and his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and spat, the mucus tinged with black. “To me, and then to the Grant—who should have given it in turn to the King’s son.”

“Did he?” Jamie asked, interested. “Or did he think, like Hector Cameron, that it was too late?”

It had been; the cause was already lost at that point—no gold could have made a difference. Arch’s lips pressed so tightly together as almost to be invisible.

“He did what he did,” he said shortly. “What he thought right. That money was spent for the welfare of the clan. But Hector Cameron was a traitor, and his wife with him.”

A Breath Of Snow And Ashes, Chapter 124

🟡 ⚜️ 👑

Remember Ellen Fraser’s connection to the third man?

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #Outlander #Connections #The Frenchman’s Gold #S01E07 The Wedding #Outlander/Cross Stitch #Chapter 24 #S05E06 Better To Marry Than Burn #The Fiery Cross #Chapter 53 #S07E03 Death Be Not Proud #A Breath Of Snow And Ashes #Chapter 124

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desertpersephone · 3 months

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Writing Patterns

tagged by no one, I just wanted to do it.

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

blue swallow motel, room 14, 7pm. hope to see you there, secret agent.

M, 3k, marmalade | bathing/washing, conversations

“So what was real?” Steam swirled around the tiny bathroom, and Otis’ toes curled into the fuzzy bath mat thrown down on tile that maybe at one point was white. Now the grout was gray and the tiles were tan and the bathmat was that old kind. The kind grannies have, the itchy kind, and he figured whoever had picked it must have thought it made the bathroom look homey.

He Peels An Orange And I Eat The Fruit On My Knees

E, 7.3k, steddie | valentines exchange, baker steve

There was something special about the early morning. It was quiet, but not quiet in the way that the evening was quiet, not quiet in the way an empty house was quiet. It was its very own kind of quiet. Almost peaceful, hazy and glowing with pre-dawn light. It had some kind of liminal feeling, both day and night or sleep and wakefulness. It was special. Except that waking up early also sucked absolute balls.

syrup sweet and lonesome

E, 17k, steddie | christmas exchange, subspace

The distant sound of cars echoed into the alley, and the frigid air of Indianapolis in the winter started to soak into his bones like cheap brandy. Steve kind of wished he had some cheap brandy to chase it away, to stoke the dying heat in his chest. With brick of questionable cleanness and graffiti against his back, Steve puffed out a lungful of smoke and stared at the phone in his hand again.

I had a feeling that I belonged. I had a feeling I could be someone.

E, 3k, 9-1-1 | eddie diaz character study, fatherhood

The day she tells him feels like the worst day of his life. Something forms in his chest. Tight. Maybe it's the worst day of their lives. She's supposed to go to college, got in at UT in Austin, and the fall semester starts in just a few weeks, and Eddie was going to put some hours in at his dad's company, and then he was going to move to Austin to be with her in a year, and they were going to start their lives — and now Shannon was telling him she was pregnant.

add salt to taste

T, 1.5k, 1/?, steddie | personal chef steve, rockstar eddie

The kitchen was so much quieter than the ones Steve had worked in before. There was no yelling, no work chatter, no fryer, no vents, no water boiling over. The only sizzling came from the one pan he had on the front burner, hot oil welcoming as he lay a nice fillet of catfish skin side down. He could feel eyes on his back, monitoring his process, making sure he actually knew what the fuck he was doing.

we're here tonight, and that's enough

G, 3.5k, steddie | christmas exchange, hard of hearing steve, steddie as dads

Snow fell outside, dimly visible as it reflected the streetlights, the heavy blanket of quiet already starting to enrapture the neighborhood. Eddie always swore he could hear it, when it was landing thick and soft on Steve’s rose bushes under the front window, or on the steps he would shovel for his husband in the morning, or on the plastic slide of the backyard play structure. But right now all he could hear was the quiet Christmas music coming from the living room stereo, echoing gently through the warm house.

Becoming. . .

G, 1.3k, stranger things | spiderman orgin story, spider!steve

Steve Harrington had never liked spiders. Of all the bugs in the world, they were the worst. He didn't really like any bugs — maybe rolly pollies or butterflies, but most of the rest? Awful. And spiders gave him the heebeejeebees.

THESE HANDS ARE GROWING COLD THEY'RE RUNNING OUT OF THINGS TO HOLD

G, 1.8k, stranger things | steve harrington character study, crochet, grief

Steve was intimately familiar with the emergency room at Hawkins Memorial by now. Even more familiar with the long, quiet halls of the nuero wing, with its big, private rooms. The rest of the hospital he knew from growing up there, being relegated to the doctors' lounge or the surgical waiting room when his parents couldn't find a babysitter, or when his mom was supposed to be off work and instead came to loiter around the hospital in hopes of snagging a new case.

rotting like a wreck on the ocean floor

T, 2.7k, 2/7, steddie | merman steve harrington, modern au

The beach after a storm was the best place in the world. There was a strange quiet to the sand and the mystery of what had been blown ashore; logs and ropes, chunks of debris lost at sea, shells and bottles and moon jellies. Eddie had developed quite a fondness for the beach after a storm, to the point that he would get up while his uncle was still sleeping to walk down the short trek to the beach and poke around. Sometimes he would find treasures -- and sometimes he would find trash.

i have never known peace like the damp grass that yields to me

M, 3.3k, the witcher | original character backstory, wounds and amputation

Oberyn hated taking monster contracts. He had always found that there was never enough coin on the other side, and more often than not they were either far too easy — and thusly boring — or too much effort for that little bit of coin. Humans just wanted him to be an exterminator, to come in and clean up their pests, with no understanding of the training that went in to being a witcher.

God I really like to Set the Scene don't I? I like people to Feel where we're meeting our characters before actually being introduced to the plot. Even in my smutty oneshots am taking you on a visual journey. Or I try at least.

#my fics #writing patterns #fanfiction #fic #steddie #marmalade 2024 #9 1 1 #the witcher

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renee-writer · 11 months

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Loved Her First Chapter 94

AO3

“I must go with her.” Ian closes his eyes but can’t close his mind and heart to what his wife is saying, “someone must. We cannot send her there on her own. I know something of the modern time, even if it isn’t the time we will travel too.”

Her hands twist in her lap, bunching up the fabric of her dress. She looks up from them to his soft eyes. He takes her hands and sooths them out in his. They lay soft and paler then his work roughened ones.

“Aye, ye must.”

Her breath lets out and she sways some beside him. “I thought I would have to convince you.”

He smiles. “I am nae saying that I wilna miss ye both terribly. This is something we must do. A sacrifice for our daughter.”

“I wish that you could come with me.”

“Aye,” he kisses her and taste the tears leaking from her eyes, “I cannot travel. Besides, I must see to Grace and Hope.”

Her heart twists anew thinking of her other daughters. How is she to do this? A gasping sob joins her falling tears. He wraps her into his strong arms.

“How,” a sniff and hiccup, “ can I leave them?”

“Because ye must. Because they will be here with me, Auntie Claire, Uncle Jamie, and everyone. Mercy will only have ye.”

Mercy is both excited and terrified by the coming trip. It isn’t like heading to Boston or, even heading across the ocean to Scotland. This is going to a whole new world.

Her granny tries to prepare her the best she can. She sits with her for hours learning about cars, planes, telephones, electricity, strange loos.

“I know it will be a shock but, the less you react, the more you will fit in.” she tells her. Claire has penned letters to any relative of Joe Abernathy that might ( please God) be alive and informed of her and time travel. She prays it will help clear the way for them.

A large party is held where Mercy and Faith are toasted. Presents are given, blessings and goodbyes said. Ian will take them to the Stones the following day. It is good there are no secrets, that all knows where and why, they are leaving. It doesn’t make the goodbyes easier.

Ian and Faith make frantic love that night. They lay awake far longer then they should, talking about everything.

They move slowly towards their future, the ultimate future. Mercy holds tight to her papa’s arm the entire way. Her tears fall faster the closer they get. He tries to stay stoic and strong. But, he can’t hold it in as his shirt grows damper with his child’s tears.

“I shall see you again. We must have faith in that. This is necessary to get you educated, that’s all.” He says through the lump in his throat.

She sniffs and nods against him. They feel the change in the air even before they reach the stones. All the hair on his arms stands up. Mercy is shivering against him. He finds Faith ‘s eyes and sees the same awareness in hers.

“It is here.” Mercy whispers. “The power.”

“Aye.” He stops the wagon. “even I can feel it.”

“Then maybe you can travel as well!” Mercy turns to him, her eyes wide.

“My love, I need to stay here with your sisters. I’m sorry.”

“Right.” She nods, “mama and I can handle it. Right mama?” she seeks reassurance. The feel, the pull of the stones is scaring her.

“Yes we can.” Faith, who is recalling the first trip she made, many years ago, feels a bit terrified too. Nevertheless, she will go through it, for the good of her daughter.

“Do you remember what it was like?” Ian asks her.

She gathers her thoughts. Then nodding, she starts, “Like being thrown off a horse and having your body torn apart at the same time. But,” she is quick to add, “it only lasts for a few seconds.”

Ian has turned bone white. Looking at his daughter, he is surprised to see that she looks calm. Seeing him look at her, she shrugs.

“If I wasn’t meant to go through it, I wouldn’t be able to. Granny did it because she was supposed to find grampa. This is where I am supposed to be. The reason will be made clear.”

He feels such pride that it almost brings him to his knees. The same pride fills Faith.

“Exactly so.” She says.

It is time. They all know it. Both his lasses hug him tight. He doesn’t want to let them go. Eventually, he does.

Good byes are not said. They exchange ‘ God speeds’ instead.

He watches them walk towards the tallest stone, arms around each other, and touch it. Then he watches them disappear.

#my writing #outlander fanfic #omgbarbiegurl's and i's #loved her first #chapter 94 #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fandom

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snowbellewells · 2 years

Text

Self Promo Sunday: “Keep You Closer (Can’t Let Go)”

Good morning folks, and hope this finds you well. I’ve just unearthed this little one shot from the collection and made some art for it, and it seemed like a peaceful, soothing one to share this morning. This is post 6x11, picking up almost from the very end of that episode, minus the sidetrack to August's typing shed. Most of the time, I try to pretend 6x10 and 6x11 didn’t even happen in OuaT. It was like they almost gave me everything I had wanted: them returning to the EF, Henry getting to be a knight, Emma experiencing being a princess and having been raised by her parents -- but then turned it all horribly on its head so that I couldn’t enjoy any of it. Needless to say, right after the episode, I had to write fix-it/missing moment fic to soothe my pain. That - and a well-timed first listen of a country song - brought about this little fic.

(The lyrics at the beginning and end are from Florida Georgia Line's "H.O.L.Y.")

Can also be found on AO3 or on ff.net

Summary: Upon her return from the Wish Realm, Emma Swan just needs a moment to hold onto those she loves most and keep them close to her - and she's going to take it.

"I couldn't find a day, I didn't feel alone

I never meant to cry, started losin' hope

But somehow baby,

You broke through and saved me

You're an angel, tell me you're never leavin'

'Cause you're the first thing I've found I can believe in…"

After the commotion on the street subsides, the hooded figure from her vision has disappeared (Gold and Belle's son, as it turns out, because – of course it is, why not?) and her pulse stops hammering in her ears, Emma Swan is still hard pressed to loosen her grip on either her son or her pirate. She finds that she has to a bit though, as Henry is starting to squirm and complain good naturedly that he's glad to see her too, but he still needs to breathe. Her father jostles in, needing to hold his daughter for a moment as well and reassure himself of her return, and in short, they can’t make it home for the night clasped in an awkward four-way hug as they are.

Of course, once that initial embrace of adrenaline-fueled relief and joy is broken, there is much to do – as there always is. They have to figure out where Gideon might have vanished and if there's an immediate danger from him, if they should track Gold down and try to force answers from him, and they also need to acclimate this new and different version of Robin to what must seem to him a strangely cockeyed modern world. When everyone has been introduced to him though, Emma is willing to leave that to a still flushed, rather wide-eyed Regina. For a moment – and she tugs on Killian's hand, shooting him a look he returns knowingly, giving her the sense he gets exactly what she is thinking with his affectionate smile – she wants to tease their mayor about 'yearning looks and doe-y eyes', but she holds back. The former Queen has not had her actual True Love himself returned to her, but rather some sort of alternate copy, and that is going to be more than enough for the other woman to shoulder. While Regina may be due some good natured ribbing in return for past snark, Emma can't find it in her heart to dish it out just now.

She wants to speak to August as well, but that will keep for tomorrow; now she wants nothing more than to go home and hold her family close. They all troop back to the house by the water, stumbling exhausted up their front steps. David at last reluctantly parts ways with them to relieve Granny of babysitting duty and check on her younger brother. Emma promises they will come for a late lunch the next day and seriously discuss what they're going to do to right her parents' curse once and for all. It is long overdue for their focus, and she sees it in her father's weariness and heavy heart.

She relishes another tight hug from him with his hand cradling the back of her head. It lends more comfort than she would readily admit after just being in a realm where he was gone and she could never have such an embrace again. Her heart warms with gratitude once more to know that alternate world wasn't real, wasn't permanent, as she watches her dad head off down the street to his and her mom's loft apartment.

Wearily, after stepping into the house with her True Loves, she shucks her leather jacket in the entryway, offering a faint smile of thanks to Henry as he wordlessly takes it from her to hang on the hooks by the door. When he comes back and hugs her tightly, clinging for a few moments in a way he hasn't for quite some time, tears start in her eyes for her brave, good hearted boy swiftly becoming a man before her eyes. She holds onto him just as tightly, swaying back and forth and murmuring soothing words under her breath. She's just thinking that he will love to hear about his Wish Realm self – a newly minted knight and prince of the kingdom riding out on quests wherever he is needed – when, with a sheepish grin and a surreptitious snuffle, Henry seems to want a bit of space to recover himself. "I'm gonna go call Violet and let her know you're back. She was worried about you too," Henry says. And then he's gone – clumping up the stairs all big feet and overlong, lanky limbs; the thumps from the floor overhead still sounding until they hear the muffled thud of his bedroom doom closing.

Shaking his head as if pleasantly amused by the lad's exuberance and changeable teenage moods, Killian is swift to take her hand and lead her forward into the living room. He doesn't have to do much urging to get her worn, dazed self to settle in the corner of the couch where she usually snuggles up, but she does shoot forward again and start to protest when he kneels before her and starts to remove her boots. "Killian, stop! You don't have to – "

But he gives her a terse shake of the head, searching her eyes with his encompassing gaze as he catches her hands reaching forward to halt him and brings them to his lips, pressing kisses to her knuckles. "Let me, Swan…Emma…please. I didn't know where you were…what was happening to you… Just let me do this?"

Sighing, she deflates, allowing him his way in whatever offers him a modicum of comfort and normalcy. In truth, she is so glad to be with him again, here together in their home, that in itself is enough to relax her nearly into slumber.

She closes her eyes for a moment, resting her head against the back of the couch, and savoring the feel of his strong hands caressing her aching feet as he bares them, wishing they could always be this close – that the world outside would finally leave them alone for even a few hours at once. Reaching her hand out sleepily, she runs her fingers through his dark hair, urging him up close enough to kiss fully and then mumbling against his lips, "Come here Pirate. I need to feel you next to me."

As requested, Killian is beside her in an instant, but before he can wrap her up in his arms and lull her sufficiently into a much-needed sleep, Emma stills him, reaching out herself to trace his beloved features, once more looking as she has come to know them. She smooths a shock of his coarse fringe back off his forehead, lovingly stroking the strands for a moment as if they are great treasure.

Her fingers move on to dance over his temple and the bridge of his nose, and for a moment her pirate's brow quirks in puzzlement, wondering what she is doing, but not willing to speak or break this quiet spell between them. As her fingertips trace the old healed cut high on one cheekbone, and then the outline of his full, strong mouth, his eyes slip closed; relaxing under her ministrations much as she had done with his minutes before, surrendering himself to her need to touch, to assure herself that he is right within her reach.

Emma can't quit touching him. She needs the warm, soft feel of his skin beneath her hands as assurance that she won't blink and find him taken from her again. It's only when her small, deft hands slip inside his half unbuttoned shirt, and Killian feels her caressing each mark and brand, outlining each muscle and sinew, that he senses something else has happened beyond their painful separation, something that she is now trying to convince herself is over – or wasn't real at all – through feeling as well as sight, by cataloging every dip and curve of him, to make sure he is as he should be.

Still, Killian makes no move to stop her, to ask questions, until Emma undoes the last of the shirt's fastenings, pulls it from his arms and off his torso with breathless help from him, and then presses herself against his bared skin, ear to his pounding heart, face buried in his scarred chest, and he feels a little shudder go through her, the one small outward sign of what he is more and more certain must be some dreadfulness she is hiding.

"What is it, Emma?" he whispers, hand coming up to smooth over her golden fall of hair, now loosed from its near-constant ponytail for the night and hook resting at her hip lightly.

From where she has curled herself nearly into his lap, his princess murmurs against his collarbone, "I don't want to let you go. Just stay here a little longer. Please, Killian?"

The soft, reverent pads of her fingers trace over his skin, scratching through the dark hair across his chest and stomach and around to his shoulders and back, along various marks of floggings, a survived stabbing, burns and the other traces of an abnormally long life full of violence and pain. Yet, as she does so, as those gentle fingers touch the places he still struggles to lay bare, even for her eyes alone, a soothing balm, an air of healing rolls over the scored and mottled flesh – reaching both and easing their frayed sanity in each other's presence.

"I'm right here, Love," he manages hoarsely, lips in the soft hair at the crown of her head. "As long as you wish…There's nowhere else I would want to be."

"Good," she husks, the smallest of more normal smiles quirking the corners of her mouth up as she finally stops seeking every inch of him feverishly and wraps her arms around his torso, clearly preparing to settle in for the night.

There is a peaceful stillness between them for several moments before she offers, not looking at him, but still speaking into his skin, disinclined to pull away from her pirate, even for moment. "There was another you…in that realm. And he was…"

She pauses, obviously searching for words, and though Killian is now achingly curious, wondering if that is what has brought on her desperate need to be so close, to examine each detail of him now, he senses a bit of lightness is in order. "And was I still my devilishly handsome self?" he teases.

Her brow arches sardonically at him and she hums in her throat. "In a manner of speaking," she settles on finally. Then her face sobers, and his chest squeezes at the bereft looks that crosses it once again, "but that's just it…you weren't you. And seeing you there before me – but not – made me miss you even more. I needed you – the real you – so much it hurt." Her hand inches between their bodies to press against her own heart as if holding in a physical pain.

He takes that hand in his gently and clasps it to his chest. "I am here now, Lass. Trust me, I won't leave you."

"But how long before we're torn apart by something we can't control? Before we lose each other again?" she beseeches plaintively, her voice small and broken, the fear plain in her green eyes.

"It doesn't matter," he says firmly, holding her gaze and blatantly offering the same comfort she gives him with her love and her trust. "Wherever we are sent, whoever tries to separate us, you will always find me. I have faith in that. And, Emma, I will always always find you."

When they both drift off to sleep some minutes later, tangled together in a tight embrace that the worst villain couldn't have unraveled with the most powerful curse, she has chosen to believe it as much as he. That vow, that security, has enveloped and healed them both.

"You're the healing hands where it used to hurt,

You're my saving grace, you're my kinda church…

'Cause you're the first thing I know I can believe in…"

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @wefoundloveunderthelight @sotangledupinit @justanother-unluckysoul @xhookswenchx @stahlop @xsajx @gingerchangeling @kday426 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @winterbaby89 @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda

#self promo sunday #cs one shot ff #6x11 missing moment ff #keep you closer (can't let go)#6b fix-it fic #captain swan ff

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tomtenadia · 2 years

Text

For the Love of A Kingdom - 5

A bad storm is hitting Scotland again. We had Arwen first about ten days ago and Barra today. It's hell outside and yours truly is nicely tucked at her desk with a cosy blanket on my lap (I am such a granny) and a cup of tea before dinner... So I decided to be nice and give you a present...

Aelin had the night from hell.

Since the evening on the balcony with the rebel leader she had felt strange. Her magic was acting up as and she could not understand what was happening. It did not feel complete. She had summoned small flames a few times but she felt something was lacking and she knew it was the carranam bond. She missed his magic. That strong deep connection that she had felt the night before. She then shook her head for even considering such stupid thoughts. It was just a legend. Their powers were meant to annihilate each other.

The previous day though, she had escaped and had managed to destroy the restraint and with them any proof of her treasonous acts. But the more she thought about it, the more she realised she had no regrets. It felt like the right thing to do. Maybe he and his friends could help where she was failing. She had failed her people.

Since the confrontation with Perrington she hand’t hold any more meeting with the councillors. Aelin had retreated in the library or in her chambers, studying old books and looking for info on the carranam bond with no luck. So the queen had decided to go to the only person who had the knowledge to help her.

With a spring in her step walked down to the kitchen and was happy to see that Emrys was on his own. Malakai and Luca not around.

“Young lady, what can I do for you? Are you hungry already?”

Aelin shook her head and sat down on the bench at the big wooden table “I need to pick your brains.”

Emrys sat down opposite from her “go on, my brain is ready for all your questions.”

“What do you know about the carranam bond?”

Emrys’ brow lifted with interest.

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” said Aelin to take some tie to come up with an excuse “I was reading some of my dad’s old magic books and the term came up but it didn’t explained much. It just mentioned it was a powerful bond.”

Emrys nodded “It’s also extremely rare. It happens when two fae share a magical bond. Their magic recognises each other. They react and instead of nulling each other it can just amplify it. “ he explained and Aelin kept a blank face avoiding to show him any emotion “It comes very handy in a battle. If one of the magic users is spent they can tap into their carranam’s power and fuel their magic anew.”

Aelin nodded interested.

“But it also has a dark side.” Emrys looked at her deeply “In history there have been instances where the bond had been used for evil and one of of the magic users was enslaved and utilised as a magical power supply.”

Aelin shivered at the idea.

“And a handy trick is that according to the legends they could also communicate telepathically.”

Emrys looked at her as her expression morphed “The world is a derivation from the expression in the old language mon aram cara which roughly translates into soulmate. The carranam bond can go deeper than magic.” And he left it at that.

Aelin’s world stopped. No. It was a joke. It couldn’t go any deeper. They were meant to kill each other. She heard Emrys voice call her and she realised she had gone silent all of a sudden.

“All okay?”

“Yes.. I.. uhm… “ she stood abruptly “it’s fine. Thanks.” Aelin ran outside and reached the gardens. Snow had started to fall once more and she just stopped in the middle of the paved path and looked up. Her mouth open catching flakes on her tongue like when she was a child and she and Aedion would compete to see who ate more snowflakes. For a brief moment, those happy memories washed away all her turmoil. She wished to be back to a simpler time. She felt stuck now, and didn’t know the way. All of a sudden her chest felt tight and felt like she couldn’t breath. Quickly Aelin ran back to her room and once inside she ripped her corset and all the tight garments. Walking to wardrobe she pulled out her comfortable leathers and ran out of the castle.

Away from her gilded cage.

The morning came for Rowan and he woke up with a groan. The cot in their base was not as comfortable as the bed at the palace and his muscles were now stiff. He grabbed his trousers, a shirt and a heavy cloak and left the house quite early. He still had some coins left so he just decided to get a breakfast at the taverna.

Once breakfast was out of the way he realised that he missed Emrys wonderful food and as soon as the traitorous thought came he pushed it away.

The town was just waking up and the sun was breaching the horizon. Heavy snow had fallen during the night. Rowan slowly took a path toward the mountains. After weeks stuck prisoner in the castle he needed to feel free once more. Feeling the need for a challenge he started to climb until he froze in place. In the distance Rowan saw fire and he started running. A wildfire was the last thing they needed. He sent out his magic and worked to suffocate the flames but he felt his power fight him. He tried once more but air power resonated in the wrong way. It was refusing to attack.

As Rowan got closer to the location and the sensation grew stronger. Until he saw a figure near the rocky patch and he stopped. His magic instead flared up and sang once more.

Aelin turned and her blue eyes were on him. Her fire all around her and Rowan stared at the flames transfixed. His power had started humming in his ears and was struggling to keep it at bay. Her power was astounding and his wanted to be unleashed. His feet took a step towards her.

Stay back. He heard a voice his head. Her voice.

Rowan ignored her warning took a step forward and then another one until he was near her flames. His magic became alive as if hers was calling to him. Flames licked the hand he had extended but he felt no pain. If they truly were carranam their magic would never hurt the other.

Don’t. She shouted via the bond.

You won’t hurt me. To prove it he walked in the circle of fire until he was at her side. She looked up at him and so close to her Rowan felt alive as he hadn’t felt in a lifetime.

With curiosity, Rowan lifted his hand and held it in front of her. Reluctantly, the queen did the same and placed her against his. Her white fingers splayed against his tanned hand. If he folded his hand it would engulf her completely.

As soon as their skins touched and fingers twinned a rush of wind and fire erupted from them. Their magic sang and his wind led her flames in a dance all around them. Both looked stunned at the display from the centre of that vortex.

They were carranam.

Rowan had no doubts now.

And then all of a sudden, he remembered that they couldn’t so he pulled back and interrupted the contact and the magic stopped.

Aelin gasped and swayed for a moment and he went to help her but she pushed him away.

“This doesn’t change anything.” She hissed at him.

Except it changed everything.

“We are—” but she stopped him.

“Don’t say it. If we ignore it it will go away.”

Rowan took a step closer “that’s not how the carranam bond works.”

“We are not carranam.” she climbed off the rock and was about to storm off when he grabbed her arm.

“Aelin…”

Her name on his lips sounded perfect. It was also the first time he used her name and not a more colourful pet name “You won’t be able to ignore it. It will pull us closer.”

“No.” She shouted trying to get free but he kept his hold on her.

“We can’t be. You want me dead, remember?”

“I can’t. You are my carranam.” And Aelin thought the word on his lips sounded like music. His accent changing slightly just at the word. It was such a beautiful sound. And ignore the fact that while they were engulfed in their magic he looked stunning. His green eyes reflecting the wild magic. If only things were not that complicated.

“No, I am your bitch queen. You hate me and want me dead. You’d better kill me while you can.”

“I can’t” he admitted quietly. Rowan looked at her and for once he saw a crack in the strong demeanour she had in front of him in the past. She seemed lost and battling with something he could not place. All of a sudden she looked fragile and vulnerable and all the hate seeped out of him.

A scream woke him from his thoughts and then a savage fire erupted from her. He raised a shield around them and at a short distance from her Rowan beheld all Aelin was, and he was not afraid. When she finally calmed down her flames retreated and Rowan could see her exhausted face under the hair that had come undone.

Slowly she raised her head and her blue eyes searched for him “we are nothing to each other. This bond is a mistake.” Aelin took a step away “we can’t be carranam. Our fate is to destroy each other.” Another step and walked away and Rowan let her go.

As he watched her disappear among the trees he realised he could not be the leader of the rebellion anymore. Also, his friends had made it quite obvious the night before that they not trusted him anymore. It had been an awkward night.

Casting a last glance at the scorched rocks he walked back into town.

By the time he got back life had erupted once again and he went to help a crew of carpenters to fix a few houses. Some manual labour would keep his mind off things.

Aelin ran, ran as fast and as farther her legs allowed her. In her fae form it felt like freedom. She was twenty five and had settled a three years prior. The process had been hell, but she had adjusted very quickly at her new permanent form. Everything about her felt better. So she used her power to ran through Oakwald until she stopped near a river and crouched down beside its banks. All she loved was slipping from her fingers. Since she had taken the throne slightly two years before, after parents murder nothing had been easy. She hadn’t been ready to be queen. At twenty three she had to stop a war that had raged for years and destroyed her country. She had spent eight months as a slave to save those people. Until help came, Aedion lead the Bane, she was saved, the old king deposed and Dorian took the throne. That had been a year ago. And now all was falling apart once more. Her citizens lost trust in her, the council did not trust her or even respected her. And now this, fate had bound her to a man who despised her.

She sighed and lay down in the grass.

Aelin woke up all of a sudden and realised she had fallen asleep in the grass. It had felt amazing. She allowed herself a few more minutes of peace and then stood and decided to head back to the castle.

Once back in her room Elide waiting for her. The woman was wearing much simpler clothes meaning she had been in town and probably met with the rebels.

“Aelin, are you okay? You look a mess.”

Aelin removed her cloak and started to peel off all of her knives from her body.

“Do you really need all that metal on you?”

“Considering how much people hate me just now, I can’t be too cautious.”

She saw Elide shift on a seat at the foot of the bed.

“What?” Asked Aelin worried by her friend expression.

“I saw the rebels.” She started quietly “They said that since Rowan had come mysteriously back after escaping, they haven’t seen him.” She explained and then sighed “Lorcan thinks he is lying. He said that he escaped but they don’t believe him. Rowan has gone awol and Lorcan is now in charge of the rebellion.”

Aelin swore. Lorcan Salvaterre had a reputation bloodier than Whitethorn. If that was the case, her life was going to become a brand new level of hell.

“There’s more.” Added Elide and Aelin braced for disaster “at the site of the two silos explosions they found cloaks belonging to royal guards.They were concealed,” she explained “So now the suspicion shifted from the rebels to the castle. To you.”

Aelin looked up at her friend “I didn’t send them.”

“Aelin, I know. But they don’t. The people believe you tricked them and that the offer for her was just a ploy.”

“That is a fucking lie.” She shouted, pacing the room “why would I offer to help my people and then send my guard to destroy the silos? It doesn’t make fucking sense.”

“I tried to explain it to them.” Elide took a step closer and placed her hand on Aelin’s shoulders to try and stop her pacing.

Aelin looked at her friend. Elide had taken a massive risk by doing that. She never felt so lost in her entire life.

“There is something going on. Someone is messing up my kingdom and for once I don’t think it’s the rebels.”

“Who?

Aelin sighed “ I have no idea. It wouldn’t surprise if Perrington would be behind it. The man clearly told me to my face that my claim to throne is shaky.”

Elide growled “And why is he still at large?”

“I have no proof.” Aelin sat on the bed beside her friend “I have suspicions but nothing that would stick. And I can’t accuse him of anything. I can’t risk another war with Adarlan over a diplomatic incident.”

“Surely Dorian would believe you if you confessed that his ambassador is a snivelling bastard.”

Aelin chuckled. Elide was small but had fire in her. The diminutive woman was a force of nature.

“Still, I need to be sure. There’s too much at stake.”

Elide nodded and patted her friend thigh “Will I see you at dinner tonight?”

“Maybe,” added Aelin before her friend disappeared behind the door.

Rowan enjoyed hard labour. he had spent his day helping with house repairs. It made him feel useful and as if he was accomplishing something real for once. He had helped a few families who had repaid him with some bread and cheese and a warm cloak. He had shown up in nothing but his trousers and a shirt. After the encounter with Aelin he needed to disconnect his mind.

He was now sitting in the square enjoying a meagre meal when he spotted two men. One of them was clearly from the castle and the other looked like a wealthy man, with auburn hair and grey eyes. He pretended to pay them no attention but his fae ears trained on the conversation.

“How is our plan going?” Asked the larger of the man with auburn hair.

“The queen won’t have much on the throne. The town will soon be rebelling against her. Luckily we already have rebels unknowingly doing the work for us to stir up some trouble.”

The other man nodded happily “since she decided to direct more supplies to the city my finances had suffered immensely.”

The man from the palace smirked “That won’t happen any longer. My men and I have stopped all the diverted supplies to go to the people.”

The auburn haired man nodded pleased “and the two silos?”

“Making it pass as if the castle is to blame? Another one of my plans to destabilise her.” He played with his moustache “Don’t worry Hamel, she won’t be on the throne much longer. And when my master will finally be in power, you and I will finally have the land and power we deserve.”

“You better stick to your promise Perrington. I am not the man you want to have as an enemy.”

He heard the two men walk away and Rowan froze for a moment. She hadn’t lied. Emrys hadn’t lied. Someone has been sabotaging her. The realisation that they truly had been on the same side hit him like a sledgehammer. He took off at a run to the rebel’s hiding place. He ran to the house and down to the basement until he reached the main room and saw his friends all gathered together.

“She is not the enemy.” He shouted and five head turned and looked at him aghast.

TAGS: @rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @courtofjurdan @whimsicallyreading @themoonthestarsthesuriel @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @acreativelydifferentlove @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @hellasblessed @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost

#rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #rowanwhitethorn #rowan x aelin #throne of glass series #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #angst #aelin x rowan #enemies to lovers #aelin galathynius #aedion ashryver #elide lochan

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for-the-love-of-kombat · 3 years

Text

¦ Meeting your parents ¦ ns/fw(ish) at the end.

Kano

So the Black Dragon top dog is absolutely smitten with you - for that's the only way he will bother meeting your family - and decided to make things right.

Your family had the habit of holding dinners once in a while as a mean to spend quality time together. It came quite as a surprise to you when kano approached, looking a bit nervous and then asking you if he could come along next time.

Your silence due to your surprise and stunned expression was quickly taken as rejection by him. Cheeks reddening and shoulders slumping a little, he turns away quickly, throwing a chuckle and a casual "Just kidding! Forget that I asked love. You wanna grab a drink?" to brush away his sudden question.

But you didn't miss the slight hurt on his dark eyes before he turned away. When the shock wears off, you ask Kano if he's serious about it and when he confirms, you extend the invitation to the next dinner.

To say that you were nervous wreck when the day arrived was an understatement. You sat at your parents' living room in silence save for the occasional answer to your relatives questions, mind racing a miles per second at the fact that Kano would pop at the door at any given moment.

It's not like you didn't love the man. You did, very much. But you were painfully aware that, putting simply, Kano was and acquired taste. Scenarios of him showing up on his usual clothes and - gods forbid - usual musk and flirting openly with you on his less than refined manner in front of your granny made you want to fake your own kidnapping and start a new life in the Bahamas.

Your heart nearly stopped at the way too familiar sound of his car' engine pulling in the front of your house. Getting up from the couch way too fast to get him at the door. If you had courage to date Kano, you damn better also have it to show him off. Straightening up and taking a deep breath you open the door.

As soon as your eyes lay upon what is on the other side, you almost choke on the breath you took.

!!!

Who is this guy?

Of course that's Kano, who else would have a metal plate covering half his face and a shining red eye, right?

Kano is dressed to the nines. His chest is for once covered up in a cream (and clean!!) dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and showing off a golden watch and a sliver of his tattoos. His lower half is covered in tight dark wash jeans and a pair of leather boots.

His hair. Oh gods he trimmed his beard to be presentable. And his hair is combed back. And there's gel on it. He chuckles at your shocked expression and pulls you closer, kissing you on the cheek. He is even wearing that cologne you bought him ages ago.

You step back, letting your eyes rake over his form. Gods he cleans up very well. You feel tempted to grab him by the hand and drag him back to your home, but instead drag him inside.

"So, what do you think? Am I suitable enough to woo your mom off her feet?" he asks with a smirk, lacing his fingers on yours as you guide him to where your parents are.

Your mother gets a rose bouquet. Your father is gifted a very fine bottle of whiskey. And he showers the table with charm and tasteful jokes the whole dinner. Your parents are swooning over him by the time the night ends.

- drabble -

"So, who are you and where in the my lover' body?" You jokingly ask him as soon as you are outside.

"What, can't you believe that I'm Kane, a charming fella that brings you mom flowers and is a successful entrepreneur?" Kano answers you with mock hurt on his voice, hand dramatically going to his forehead as he turns his face away "You wound me, love. Wound me."

You snort a ungraceful laugh at his antics, pulling him to you and loudly kissing his metallic cheek then burying your face on his chest you speak. "If I am being honest, I was afraid you were going to show up-"

"In my usual attire?" he chuckles when he feels you nodding 'yes' on his chest "No, love. Your family isn't ready to face me in all my greatness. Not yet." he tilts your chin up to peck your lips before taking your hand and tugging you to walk with him to the car "Besides, I have to leave a good impression on them if I wish them to give me your hand in marriage someday in the future."

You walk in silence to the car, and Kano squeezes your hand to get your attention, pulling your back to his chest in a soft embrace. He clears his throat softly before speaking up again.

"I mean... If you would like to get stuck to a guy like me. It is. I know I'd love to have you by my side." he starts to fidget with your fingers when you remain silent as you think about it. With a smile, you turn around and hold his face between your hands.

"You know what, I do not hate the idea. Sorry for being silent, it is just a lot to take in."

The smirk on his face sends raging warmth to rise on your cheeks. You couldn't have picked better words huh?

"Oy love, but you haven't taken anything in... Yet." Kano punctuates the last word pulling you to him and grinding against your leg, getting hands when you pull him closer.

"Ah, there's my Kano." you whisper between kisses "I'm ready to ditch my family if you are. The dinner was good but..." you purr, running a hand down his neck and undoing the top buttons of his shirt "You, my beloved dragon, looks good enough to eat. And I'm hungry." you say, dragging him inside the car.

Masterlist

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat headcanons #kano mortal kombat #kano x reader #mortal kombat fluff #for the love of headcanons #For the love of kano #meeting your parents #implied ns/fw #headcanon #drabble

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 4.1

Author’s Note: So I’m thinking of updating every other day or every two days? I tend to write compulsively and neglect my schoolwork lol. Juggling this with work and school will be difficult if I post every day (I can’t help it though, I love updating every day!) So yeah. Also if anyone has chapter filler ideas or prompts they want me to write out, message me or comment below! Back to the story!

..........................................

Xiao had just cleared a band of hilichurls when he came across the small stuffed bunny lying on the ground. It was tattered and worn, but still held its original color. He picked it up and dusted it off, glancing in the direction of the crying girl at the top of the hill. She had been crying over her stolen toy so Xiao took it upon himself to return it to her.

He may or may not have destroyed a portion of the rice crop in doing so...but no matter! The girl was happy now.

"Thank you Mr. Adeptus!" She gave him a toothy grin and hugged her bunny close. "Thank you so much!"

"It was no trouble." Xiao didn't return her smile and began to walk across the bridge that oversaw most of the rice crop. What was it with mortal children and material possessions? Was it like him with his yaksha mask and spear?

"Mr. Adeptus sir, would you like something to eat?"

"Mortal food is not to my liking." He continued to walk away despite hearing her disappointed 'oh.' His eyes landed at the top of another hill, where the hall of Quince Village sat. I should check on her Granny while I'm here.

"Welcome to my humble home! How may I--" Granny's eyes widened significantly when she caught sight of Xiao. "Oh my, it's been some time. Is she alright? Has something happened?"

"Mm." Xiao flicked his gaze around the building before he closed the distance. "She's fine. The Fatui will pose a significant problem. They may come to you first."

"Oh," Granny rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about me then, dear. Just make sure she's safe. I can handle the Fatui's interrogations just fine."

"There's no telling what tactics they may use or what they're after. Make no mention of my interactions with you, nor how you found her. It is for your own safety."

"Consider it done! Now, would you like a cup of tea?"

...........................

"Wait, what?" You and the rest of the adventure team had returned to Quince Village on your request.

Well...when you say 'the rest of the adventure team,' it was just you and Aether. Diluc and Bennett had returned to Mondstat on your way here from Liyue Harbor. After your little confrontation with Childe, he claimed there was unfinished business with the Fatui in the harbor and had to remain there. You didn't believe it one bit.

"Yeah! Do you think he doesn't like me?" Lil Luo's shoulders drooped in sadness. She held her tattered bunny tight against her chest.

"'An adeptus that doesn't smile," Aether met your eyes. "That sounds like Xiao."

"W-well, when was he here? When did this happen?" You had to refrain from shaking her little shoulders for answers.

"U-um, maybe a week ago? I saw him a couple more times after that, but he never smiled back at me..."

"Xiao," you whispered to yourself and scanned the fields for any sign of him. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Four days ago, I think."

"You want to look for him, don't you?" Aether raised a smug brow.

"Can we?" You pleaded.

"We're here on your request. Might as well stay a bit, right?"

"Thank you so much!"

"You can just repay us with food," Paimon popped up and was practically drooling at her own imagination. Aether nodded in agreement.

The three of you--correction, two of you-- climbed the hill to the village center while Paimon floated carefree alongside Aether. The second you reached the top, you were greeted with a disturbing sight.

Fatui agents.

"W-what the hell?" You instinctually grabbed the hilt of your sword, as did Aether. "What are Fatui doing in Quince Village?"

"Paimon has no idea. Let's get them!"

"Doesn't your Granny live here?" Aether sent you a worried look.

"Yes, she does." You marched right up to the nearest agent and puffed out your chest. "Excuse me, what's going on here? Why are you morons moving my Granny's stuff out of the house?"

"Who're you callin' morons?" The agent scoffed through his mask. "Shouldn't you be in school or somethin'? Scram. Get out of here. Damn kids."

"This is MY house," your blade pressed against his neck in a flash. "Get off of my property." Aether followed your lead and drew his weapon too.

"I'm afraid it isn't your home anymore," an all-too familiar deep voice flowed through the air. Zhongli shot the agent a look that caused him to leave the situation to the consultant. "I sincerely apologize for not being in touch recently. The funeral parlor has been quite backed-up lately thanks to Hu Tao's mismanagement."

"What are you doing here?" Paimon asked the question that was on all your minds. "The funeral parlor is so far south of here."

"The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor serves all of Liyue," answered Zhongli. His piercing eyes turned their attention to you and Aether. "As you know, the parlor is partnered with the Fatui."

"And? That doesn't explain why you're here," you snarled. Don't get anything mixed up; you were happy to see him. But the Fatui at your house? Not as much.

Zhongli released a short sigh and closed his eyes. "We received a call from one of your neighbors. It appears your grandmother died last night of a heart attack."

Something hard panged within your chest and it was suddenly difficult to breath. "That's not...possible."

"Hey," Aether wrapped an arm around your shoulders as the world seemed to sway beneath your feet. He slowly led you to the ground.

"That's horrible," Paimon muttered. "Was it...painful?"

"Paimon!" Aether hushed.

"No. It was rather quick. She had not suffered long." Zhongli knelt so that he was eye level with you. "I had sent someone to meet up with you in Dihua Marsh, but it appears as though the messenger never met you. My apologies for the oversight, dear friend."

"Then," you gulped, "why are the Fatui here?"

"Your grandmother had signed the house over to them a day or so before she passed."

"What? Why would she do that? She loves this house!" Your tears dried before they had the chance to fall. Your fists tightened as you struggled to determine who the enemy was. Was it Zhongli? He was technically Fatui if he worked with them. Xiao could have been wrong about him. "Who's in charge here?"

Zhongli almost appeared hesitant to answer. Xiao managed to reach the grandmother in time, but it appears she still had to make some sort of arrangement to guarantee everyone's safety. To think that Childe had somehow known to come here--

"Tch." You stood up and brushed past Aether, heading directly toward the Fatui agent that had the audacity to tell a twenty year old to go back to school. "Hey, dumbass!" You gripped the collar of his coat and yanked him close. "Tell me who's in charge here."

"Heh, want to fight your way out of a contract, eh? Don't you worship the God of Contracts? You're not gettin' your stupid house back."

"Tell me who sent you."

"A certain Harbinger," the agent taunted.

"Give me the name!" You back-handed the masked agent hard enough to hurt him and split your knuckles wide open. The blood splattered onto the wooden floor and soaked into his jacket.

"Hey, wait!" Aether grabbed your shoulder. Zhongli watched him do so.

"You're in luck, sweetheart. You'd give quite the show badmouthing Childe."

"Wha--" You stumbled backwards and knocked into Aether. The two of you shared a look of shock, concern, and betrayal. "This is all under Childe's jurisdiction?"

"Uh-huh," the agent lifted his mask slightly and wiped at his busted lip. "He should be on his way back to Liyue Harbor by now, if you wanna try and take it up with him. But I'm tellin' you he ain't gonna budge."

..........................

You stood alone in the rain. Zhongli had arranged for a proper funeral and had refused to charge you for the provided services. He had even managed to retrieve one of Granny's necklaces from the Fatui's grasp, and gave it to you. He and Aether were alongside you, what...twenty minutes ago? They decided to leave you alone in front of the new gravestone to grieve. The funeral was simple, per your request to hold true to Granny's wishes. The entire village had grieved with you.

"I'm sorry I came too late for a visit, Granny." The words came out robotic and emotionless. The look on your face was blank. You placed a small bouquet of glaze lilies on top of the stone; Zhongli had you sing to them before picking them. "Things got busy, and Childe...well, I'm sure you met him, didn't you?" You let out a dry bitter laugh that blended with the sound of raindrops. "I love you. Thank you for taking care of me even if I was a brat sometimes."

Could it be that you had been the cause of her death just like you had caused your parents'? Just how much blood was on your hands?

You felt nothing yet everything at the same time. Your eyes were dry. After the initial shock, you hadn't shed a single tear. Thus was your usual reaction to death; you were usually at peace with the idea of it. If it was their time, it was their time. But you were not convinced her death was caused by her heart.

Childe. Could he have resorted to such extremes to get the house? Or was it for something more? Perhaps he was the true danger Xiao had warned you about.

Your chest ached, desperate to release the pent up storm of emotions whirling through you. The wind picked up for a moment. "Xiao?" Your hoarse greeting was met with a grim-looking yaksha. It was possible you were just imagining him in a time of need. You hadn't seen him in a month now.

Xiao blinked and gave you a once-over as he stood beside you. He had heard your sorrow like it was blaring in his ears. His eyes fell to the gravestone, and his expression saddened further. "She's dead." His question of disbelief sounded more like a tactless statement of fact.

"Yeah," you half-winced, half-scoffed at his remark. "She's dead." You knew all too well that he didn't mean any harm. "Why're you standing in the rain?"

"I don't concern myself with the weather, but you should be inside. Mortals are fragile."

"I don't particularly care at the moment." Your words cut through the rain like a blade of ice.

She has lost all of her family now, Xiao realized. He watched you with admiration at how strong you were acting even though it was clear you were trying not to break.

"I came back to visit and check in on her," you opened up after a few minutes of silence. His glance towards you prompted you to continue. "And then a little girl told me an adeptus had saved her toy bunny. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Mm."

"Did you...see her? My Granny?"

"I have spoken with her several times over the course of several years. I did not think it would be the last time. What happened?"

"Heart attack." You swallowed. "When I reached the house, the Fatui were clearing it out." You caught the color draining from Xiao's face. "What? Do you know something?"

"So my suspicions were correct," Xiao muttered distastefully. He looked around the graveyard. "You're sure they all left?"

"Yes. Zhongli said that before she died she had signed a contract to hand the house over. But she wouldn't do that so easily."

Satisfied with his scan of their surroundings, Xiao folded his arms across his chest. "I told you I would inform you of our predicament when the time is right. The time is now."

"After my Granny just died?" Your undirected anger manifested at his words.

"The Fatui are after the two of us."

"Why?"

"Our guess is they wish to create adepti soldiers or yakshas using the technique I used on you when you were a child." Your eyes raised at 'our.' Xiao's gaze flicked to you briefly. "Zhongli."

"Wait, why would Zhongli be involved with this in the first place?"

"He is the former Lord of Geo, Rex Lapis--"

"Wait wait wait, he's what?! But that's not possible, Rex Lapis is--"

"--Only a select few know his identity. Do not go around telling." You nodded, head spinning from all this new information. "Childe was tasked with identifying and obtaining us. If anyone gets their hands on an adeptus or your blood, it could spell the downfall of humankind."

"What exactly is my blood? Why would they want me?"

"My blood runs through your veins."

"U-um...?" You shifted uncomfortably at the thought.

"That is how I saved you," Xiao uncrossed his arms and faced you fully. "It allows you to withstand more adeptal energy than the ordinary human, which is why I can be so close to you. It also increases your body's healing capabilities. It is the only reason you survived that day. It is also the only reason you survived your lawachurl wound."

"...Why didn't you tell me this before?" You mumbled beneath your breath. The rain hitting the earth nearly overtook the sound of your voice. "We...We could have saved her." Your anger leaked through your voice. It wanted something to blame, something to lash out at. You caught yourself before you could say or think something you didn't mean. It was a heart attack. Xiao is not to blame for this. Childe is the enemy.

"Childe was listening in on our conversations. I could not disclose this information to you so we would have the advantage to work in the dark against the him." He stared down at the gravestone. "I am...sorry. I did not recognize the stress it would put her through. She was optimistic and happy when I last saw her."

You shook your head. "I doubt it caused the heart attack. I just want to know what they did to make her sell the house," your hands curled into fists. "Childe will pay for this."

The two of you silently stood in the rain for some time before Xiao held his hand out to you. "You will get sick if you stay out here longer. Let us meet with the rest of the team." You placed your injured hand in his, having forgot that it was aching the entire time. Xiao's eyes narrowed at this, but he did not question you. With your blood, it would heal by tomorrow morning.

#genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #xiao fanfiction #xiao one shot #genshin one shot #genshin fanfiction

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elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

Never Nothing- Extra # 2

Another little extra for one of my favorite series!! Soft domestic fluff meets angst... There will be a follow up to this one, eventually.

For @the-darkdragonfly who wanted this to be a 12 part series… we’re halfway there baby

Rated T, mostly for language

~4300 words

Get added to my tag list (I keep one for everything!)

Read on Ao3

Read the rest of the series

Read my other stuff

~~~~

“Stop it.”

“I’m only trying--”

“No, stop it.”

“My love, if you’d just--”

“I don’t want to!”

“--you may find that you feel better.”

“I won’t. I will never feel better, ever, for as long as I live. I will feel exactly this horrible every second for the rest of my miserable life.”

Killian sighs softly, smiling at her despite how much it pisses her off and running his hand through her hair. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so uncomfortable.”

“Having a baby in August is not a good plan.”

“No,” he agrees. “I’m sure you must be feeling rather miserable.”

She nods, pouting. “Extremely miserable.”

He softly kisses the tip of her nose, taking out the sunscreen he’s been begging her to wear and squirting some into his hands. “Now, just imagine how hot you’d be if we were still in Phoenix.”

“Shut up,” she grumbles, leaning forward just enough for him to get her back.

“You’re the one who suggested we come to the beach.”

She glares up at him, her lips pressed into a tight line and her brows covering her eyes almost completely. “You’re on thin ice.”

“I think you’ll find there’s no ice this time of year, my darling. It’s very hot out; it would melt.”

He can’t blame her for being miserable. At 37 weeks pregnant in late July, she can’t seem to ever get comfortable. Her back hurts her endlessly, her hips are sore, she’s been suffering with horrible heartburn, and the mood swings are difficult to keep up with.

He wouldn’t have it any other way, though.

“Why don’t we get into the water? A bit of buoyancy is sure to help your back.”

She sighs in defeat and says, “I’ll probably just get sea sick. Or eaten by a shark. Or stung by a jellyfish.”

He kisses her nose once more and takes her hand, hoisting her off of the chaise lounge and placing his palm on the small of her back where he knows she’s sore. “I’ll fight off the sharks and the jellyfish, my love.”

“Promise?” she asks as she waddles towards the shore with him.

“Of course.”

She squeals as she tries to get into the chilly water, but once they’re in and she’s used to the cold, she relaxes a bit. His heart flutters when she leans back against his chest, letting him bear her weight as he runs his hand along her bump and presses a kiss to her shoulder.

Feeling her pressed against him makes the blood rush through his veins, and he’s glad for the cold water keeping any obvious signs of his arousal at bay. He’s always found her unbelievably sexy, but seeing her in her yellow bikini, her bump on full display, is enough for him to have almost kept her home today.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she grumbles, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the waves. “And no, we’re not doing it in the ocean.”

“I would perish at the thought of sullying your purity on a public beach, love.”

“Purity,” she scoffs. “I’m knocked up at 22. Nothing pure about it.”

He kisses her neck, then her cheek, and holds her close to himself, his bare wrist pressed to the side of her belly and his hand holding it tenderly. “We've talked about this, love,” he murmurs against her skin. “How this child has come to be is not important. What’s important is how fiercely the two of us love him.”

“I know,” she agrees softly, dropping her head to his shoulder and sighing as she lets herself relax further into his hold and into the gentle current of the sea. “I just wish… sometimes I just wish you were his dad.”

He sways the two of them together gently, letting the waves carry them, and reminds her, “I fully intend to be. Biology isn’t really a factor here, my love.”

She hums happily as she lets him support every ounce of her, effectively floating just below the surface with him holding her up. “I just feel… I love this baby more than anything. I don’t regret having him, I just kind of wish you'd been the one to knock me up.”

“Me too,” he laughs, “but it’s alright, because this child will be as much my son as any that I sire.”

“I love you. Sorry I’m a bitch.”

“You’re the furthest thing from it, darling. I’ll not hear you talking about yourself in such a way.”

She hums again and shrugs. “I could probably chill out a bit. I’ve been pretty snappy.”

“Well, you’re nine months pregnant.”

“Maybe I’ll keep being bitchy after the baby’s born.”

“I hope so. I like you when you’re fired up.”

She lies in his arms for a while, content to float almost weightlessly in the water as the pressure of the babe she carries is finally relieved. He feels the lad kicking about beneath the water, likely entranced by the dancing waves, and chuckles softly each time he gets a strike to his palm.

“What would you like for dinner, my love?” he asks after a long silence falls between them.

“Chinese food,” she answers immediately.

“That’s a nice dream. What do you actually want, Miss High Blood Pressure?”

“Baaaabe,” she groans, tossing her head back against his shoulder again and gripping his forearms. “I don’t want grilled chicken.”

“You don’t have to have grilled chicken. We can stop for fish.”

“The baby wants lo mein.”

“He can have some after he’s born and his mother isn’t at risk for preeclampsia.”

She grumbles some more, her words incoherent and inaudible over the sound of the water lapping around them. “Chicken,” she finally concedes. “But only if you make that sauce you made last week.”

With a snort, he asks, “you mean the one with the bacon in it?”

“That’s the one.”

“Alright, love. Let’s get you out of the water before you give birth to a raisin.”

“You’ve gotta work on your dad jokes.”

~~~~

The days seem to be getting longer and longer, time refusing to pass at a normal pace as she lives in constant torture and betrayal of her own body. She loves being pregnant, honestly, but it’s becoming a bit tiring. The baby she’s hauling around is heavy, and her back is killing her. Killian’s being very wary of her slightly elevated blood pressure when all she wants is Chinese food and chicken nuggets. Her mom still remembers her days as a perinatal nurse and won’t stop accidentally scaring her when she talks about what she’s seen during labor.

Killian’s looking forward to the delivery, and she tries not to let that piss her off. Of course, she’s more than elated to see him so excited for their child to be born, and she’s so lucky to have a partner who will be there for her throughout the whole thing. But each time he tries to show her something he’s read in a book, or a breathing exercise they can try together during contractions, she wants to chuck something at him. After all, she doesn’t believe that he’s truly ready for what her body will be doing in just a few short weeks.

“During a contraction, I can try to massage your lower back if you’re standing. How does that sound?”

“Standing?” she asks doubtfully. “I can barely stand during cramps.”

“Don’t let him fool you; the massages don’t help,” Granny says ominously while she places her plate before her. While he’s been very strict about her diet, Killian can’t keep her from getting her French toast from Granny’s on Sunday mornings.

“And did you have a walking epidural when you delivered in the Enchanted Forest, Granny?” he asks, his tone sarcastic.

She rolls her eyes as she places his eggs in front of him.

Taking a deep breath with her eyes squeezed shut, Emma places her hand on the top of her bump as a zip of hot pain rushes up her chest and into her throat. Killian’s silent and still as he watches her, holding his fork above his plate as his brows furrow while she waits for it to pass. Once the pain subsides, he asks, “alright?”

“Heartburn,” she breathes. He pushes her glass of water towards her encouragingly as she breathes steadily. “Damn.”

“It won’t be long, love.”

“Yeah, he better make an appearance soon. I wanna meet him so bad, and I wouldn’t mind if the indigestion went away.”

“Morning,” Ruby says happily as she refills Killian’s mug, much to Emma’s jealous vexation.

“Morning Ruby. What’s the report for this week?” he asks, happily going along with her perception of herself as the town crier.

“Not much, but there’s someone new in town. Can you believe that? The dwarves are doing some research to find out if that means we can leave.”

“Well, that will certainly be interesting,” he agrees, giving Emma a happy smile. They haven’t even bothered to attempt to leave themselves, although it’s suspected that they can.

“And everyone is excited to have a newcomer.”

“I’m sure he must be a really interesting character, what with him wanting to come to Storybrooke.”

Emma snorts, digging into her breakfast once her least favorite pregnancy symptom subsides completely.

“I haven’t met him, but I’ve heard he is kind of an ass.”

Moments later, her parents bustle into the diner and greet her with a broad smile as they approach them. “Hi honey!” her mom says happily.

“Morning,” she smiles.

“How are you feeling?” she asks as she and David scoot the two of them down in their booths. “How’s my sweet little grandson?”

Mary Margaret places a gentle hand over Emma’s bump and she stiffens just a bit. It always feels weird to have anyone but Killian put their hands on her belly. “Okay. He keeps flopping around and giving me heartburn.”

She hums in understanding, patting her belly. “Have you heard about someone new being in town?”

“We were just briefed by Ruby,” Killian answers.

“Well, I met him very briefly. He’s handsome and very charming.”

“I don’t think Emma or Hook care much about that, Snow,” David says, and Emma nods.

“Well, I heard he’s coming here for breakfast today. Isn’t that exciting? You two won’t be the newcomers anymore.”

Emma laughs and nods through another bite. “I guess that’s true.”

They continue to chat through their meal, David talking about his job as an animal control officer. Apparently, they’re thinking about adopting a dog he’d rescued a week ago, and Emma’s only seen him beam like this a few times in the short time she’s known him. Things are good, the French toast isn’t giving her heartburn, she thinks she’s going to have a good day.

Until the bell above the door rings.

And he walks in.

She takes in a gasping breath, her eyes bugging out of her head as she swings her head away from the door. “Alright?” Killian asks her softly, leaning over the table and taking her hand.

She shakes her head and feels his body go rigid with panic. If they weren’t trapped in the booth by her parents, she would grab his hand and run out the back door of the diner to escape him.

“Heartburn?” Killian asks softly, not yet alerting her parents of her sudden shift in mood. “Braxton Hicks? Contractions?!”

“No,” she croaks.

“What is it, angel? Talk to me.”

She chances a look towards the door and sees him talking with Ruby, probably flirting with her shamelessly. Then, she looks back at Killian and whispers, “Neal.”

He raises a brow in thought and then she watches as the pieces of the puzzle click into place. He nods once, looking towards the door and grimacing. Ruby starts to guide Neal towards a table and Mary Margaret gives him a friendly, excited wave before Emma can stop her. She wants to put her head through the table; maybe he won’t see her if she does that.

The only saving grace is the fact that she can spread her legs out and tuck her bump under the table. The last thing she wants right now is for him to find out that he fertilized the egg that became her son.

“Mary Margaret, right? Hi,” he greets casually. “And this must be your husband, and--”

He’s staring, but not at her. He’s gaping at Killian.

“What the… Hook?”

Killian looks as baffled as Emma must, and he gives her a look of confusion that tells her he has no idea what’s going on. Only, when he looks at her, so does Neal.

“Emma?!”

“You two know each other?”

“Oh my god,” she grumbles, dropping her head to her folded arms on the table. She’d pushed her plate away, unable to eat anything more as the stress of her sperm donor making an appearance in her life eats away at her.

“Darling, perhaps we should--” Before he can continue, she kicks him under the table, not wishing to let Neal know anything personal about her, especially the fact that she and Killian are together and that she’s expecting a baby in a few weeks.

“Darling? Are you two, like, dating or something?”

“Emma and Ho-- Killian live together,” her mother supplies, and Emma rolls her eyes.

“Huh,” Neal says in response. “You sure do move on fast.”

“Mate, that’s not--”

“I’m not your mate, pirate.”

Killian chuckles awkwardly and asks, “do we know each other?”

Neal looks like he’s ready to snap, perhaps jump across the table and strangle Killian at his cocky response, but he’s interrupted by the door opening again and Mr. Gold entering the diner. “Bae,” he calls, not yet taking notice of what he’s doing or who he’s talking to. “What are you doing?”

“Bae,” Killian breathes, staring up at Neal and Mr. Gold in astonishment. “You… you’re Neal?”

“What is going on?” Emma asks through gritted teeth, wanting nothing more than to escape. The position she’s put herself in in order to hide her bump is horribly uncomfortable on her back (and she probably looks ridiculous), and all she wants to do now is go home and sit on her new couch.

“What’s going on is your boyfriend is a piece of shit,” Neal spits at her. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“What, like I picked you? Lot of good that did me, what with the police, and the court hearings, and the community service, and the--”

“Honey… This is Neal? I thought your name was Bae.”

“It was,” Neal grumbles back, turning towards his father and then back to Emma. “You told your parents about me?”

“Well, she kind of had to,” David responds condescendingly. “What with the--”

“Dad. Please stop.”

“The what?”

“Son, let’s go enjoy our breakfast and leave the family drama for later.”

The baby starts wiggling just as another bout of heartburn curses her, and she hisses, pushing her fist against her chest and leaning forward even more until she’s in an awkward position. “Honey, you need some tums. I told you, they’re safe for the ba--”

“I’m fine,” she seethes, swallowing and breathing deeply through the feeling of lava crawling up her throat. She wants to leave so badly, but the moment she moves to stand, her pregnancy will become more than obvious.

“Family drama,” Neal laughs. “That’s rich, isn’t it, Hook? First my mom and now my girlfriend?”

Emma glares up at him, practicing her mom-look. “Go away,” she insists.

He scoffs and says, “Ems, come on. Let's get you out of here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Bae is Neal?” Killian asks through continued astonishment, looking down at his hand with his mouth agape, his brows furrowed.

“Stop calling me that,” Neal snaps. “You lost your right to talk to me when you killed my mother and sold me to Pan.”

Emma knows this isn’t true; Killian told her the story about the Crocodile murdering his first love in front of him. He told her about how he found her son years later and wanted to raise him as his own. She just had no idea that her son was… Neal. Evidently, Killian didn’t either.

“Neal, go away. Leave us alone like you left me to rot.”

“I did that for your own good. You had to break the curse.”

“Right,” she scoffs. She wants nothing more than to rub in his face the fact that he abandoned her, homeless and poor and pregnant, but she holds in her anger. Truthfully, Neal leaving was one of the better things to have happened to her. It gave her Killian and their baby. It brought her to her family. It helped her find out who she is.

Those facts don't make his betrayal sting any less, though.

“Killian, maybe you should take Emma home,” her mother suggests through the haze of anger and confusion surrounding the table. He looks up at Snow, his jaw still dropped towards the floor and his eyes swimming with the guilt of his past, and nods.

“Aye,” he agrees, shaking his head and taking Emma’s hands. “Come, love. Let’s sail away.”

She wants nothing more than to agree, to nod and smile at him, taking his hands and letting him lead her out of the diner, but Neal remains firmly planted outside of their booth. If she stands now, she’ll reveal herself. She looks at Killian meaningfully with wide eyes, then glances down towards her belly and up in Neal’s direction.

He understands effortlessly and turns towards Neal, asking, “do you mind, mate? We’d like to head out.”

Neal rolls his eyes and concedes, stepping away from their booth and towards his father, and Mary Margaret and David stand to give them a path out of their seats. They're almost home free-- she can see the light at the end of the diner-- Killian leading the way and effectively hiding the evidence of her pregnancy. Or so she thinks.

Just as Killian’s hand reaches the door, about to push it open and gain their sweet escape, Ruby cuts them off with an excited greeting to Emma, reaching to give her a hug as she usually does and asking, “how’s my favorite little nephew doing? What is it now; three weeks to go?”

Emma freezes, eyes wide and face pale as Killian’s back goes stiff in front of her. The diner is silent, the early breakfast rush long over, and she knows Neal heard her. It’s confirmed when she hears the scratch of the chair against the floor as he stands and calls, “what, so he knocked you up, too? What a stand-up guy.”

The blood in her veins chills at his statements. Her jaw starts hurting with how forcefully she’s clenching it. She watches Killian turn around and fears that he’s going to confront Neal with the truth. In reality, though, he turns and looks only at her, taking her hands in his easily despite the fact that one is missing, courtesy of her ex’s father. “It’s alright,” he whispers, showing her just how much he understands her. Showing her that he can tell exactly what she’s thinking; can read the fear in her eyes at the thought of Neal finding out that this child is technically a part of him. “We can go,” he tells her.

She can’t help but to spin around, half turning to face Neal with tearfilled eyes, looking at him just once so that she can remind herself of the mistakes she’s made in her past. So that she can compare the despair he brought her with the joy that Killian brings so effortlessly. But it’s a mistake. She watches as his face falls, seemingly seeing just how pregnant she really is.

“Is that… are you…” He looks up at the ceiling, flexing his fingers as if counting on them. Counting the months since they were last together. Realizing it’s been almost nine months since their last encounter. Taking in just how large her bump is. “Emma…?”

She should just turn around and leave, or ignore him; refuse to give attention to his thoughts so that she doesn't spur them on. But instead, she lets out a choked sob and buries her face in her hands as her tears flow freely.

Killian’s hand is on her back immediately, running soothing circles along her skin as he moves to stand in front of her and blocks her view of the rest of the world, consuming her with only his ocean-blue eyes. “It’s alright,” he whispers again.

“Did she say three weeks left? Is that…”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, and although Neal’s voice cuts through the air between them like a knife, all she sees is Killian.

“I wanna go home,” she cries softly, clinging to his hand and hook.

“We will,” he promises.

“Emma, is that my kid?”

She can’t respond. All she can do is tilt her body slightly so that she’s looking past Killian’s right into Neal’s eyes, showing him the truth in her own. She can’t tell him with words that he fathered a child with her, but she knows that the look on her face is enough confirmation when his own pales and he drops back down in his chair.

He only stays there for a second before forcefully standing again, the chair colliding with the floor. Gold begs, “Bae,” reaching his hand towards his son, and Neal violently rips away from his father.

“Don’t!” He shouts. “Fuck.”

Before anyone can say anything, Neal is stalking towards Emma and Killian, and she almost feels nervous for a second, until he brushes past the two of them and slams his way out the door.

~~~~

Her lip trembles as he shuts the door, and she spins into his arms the second he locks it, bursting into tears easily. “He’s gonna take him,” she cries.

“Emma, no. That isn’t going to happen, love.”

She sobs some more, gripping his shirt with white knuckles, nodding into his neck and pulling him as close to herself as she possibly can with the bump between them. “He is.”

“You saw his face when he found out, darling. He has no interest. He’s already running.”

“Everything was so perfect. Now it’s ruined.”

“Nothing is ruined, my love,” he argues. “What makes you even say that?”

She shudders in his arms, whimpering pathetically as the hormones take over and the fear of losing her child consumes her. “I wanted--” she chokes. “I wanted you to be his dad.”

When he pulls away from her, forcing her face from his neck, she cries out again, pained at the thought that she’s losing him, too. “Angel,” he murmurs softly, soothingly. “I am his dad. Perhaps the lad will simply be lucky enough to have two.”

The violence behind her choked breathing is palpable between the two of them, showing him just how distraught she truly is as she asks, “you mean-- you mean you’re not leaving?”

“You silly thing,” he breathes through a gentle laugh, pressing their foreheads together. “Do you really believe that that fool coming into our lives will sway me? I love you. Both of you.”

Her bottom lip trembles again as his hand slides along the side of her belly, the baby kicking against his palm in greeting. The fact that he didn’t stir when faced with his biological father doesn’t get past her as he wiggles against his dad lovingly. She lets out one last soft, whimpering sob and sniffles before saying, “I love you. We both love you.”

He kisses her gently despite the tears and snot, making her laugh lightly. “Bae knows what it is to have an absent father, love. I’m… I’m truly shocked to know that the boy who lived on my ship all those years ago has done this to you. But I do believe that, now that he knows, he’ll do what he can to support you and the little lad. I believe he’ll do the right thing.”

“Maybe I don’t want him to,” she pouts.

He smiles, cupping her cheek, and says, “that’s valid. And I know you're scared. But we’ll just have to sort out what’s best for the little one.”

With a heaving sigh, she drops her forehead to his chest and shuts her eyes. “Right now, what’s best for the little one is a nap.”

“It’s only 10:30,” he jests, but despite his argument, he places his hand on the small of her back and guides her towards their bedroom. “Need a snack?”

“More French toast.”

“No. An apple.”

“Never mind,” she grumbles, pouting as she collapses on the bed and holds up her feet until he starts pulling her sandals off. He shakes his head as he laughs lightly, running his thumb over her swollen feet and kissing her cankles. “Killian?” she whispers quietly.

“Aye, love?” he asks, almost as softly as he crawls up towards her and helps her lean back onto the bed.

She grunts unattractively as her swollen body flops like a fish across the mattress, drawing a soft smile from his lips. “I’m scared,” she whispers when his front wraps around her back.

“Aye, love. I know.” His hand slides across her giant bump, the baby kicking him gently, and kisses just behind her ear. “But you’re going to be fantastic. You’re so strong, and smart, and capable of anything you set your mind to.”

“Then why can’t I just magic him out of here?”

“Bae?” he asks with a surprised laugh.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying since we got home.”

“You are a silly thing. And I love you very much.”

With a contented hum, she pulls him closer to her despite the heat. “I love you, but let me sleep now.”

“As you wish, my angel.”

~~~~

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx

#Never Nothing #extra #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #never nothing ff #cs fluff #cs angst

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

Note

I swear I could read anything you write and never have enough *insert me asking about headcanons that you have been dying to gush about* 💜💜

You may one day come to regret this statement ! For now though, thank you for your faith! I would hereby like to present: Mary Sheffield + The baby Bridgertons because I love and adore Mary Sheffield and in this house we Stan that absolute queen.

Mary had barely spoken to her mother since Kate was 14 and they'd had their little chat in the Sheffield's kitchen. Her mother had ignored Thomas' death completely, but had called when Edwina's first print ad had come out. Mary had gotten off the phone as quickly possible and hadn't heard from her again until Kate's engagement announcement had been made. I see my granddaughter is marrying Anthony Bridgerton! God, who would have thought it! Edwina maybe, but Katharine was never much of a looker. Mary had cut her off indignation flaring in her chest. You've made it very clear that Kate is not your grand daughter,I am not going to let you use her to social climb now. And she’d hung up the phone and tried not to feel as though she herself had no right to act The mother of the Bride.

When Kate had announced her pregnancy at brunch a few months after her wedding Mary hadn’t been able to stop her happy tears from running down her face. She’d pulled her daughter in for a tight hug whispering her ear how desperately happy she was and then the kind man who’d made Kate so so happy and desperately wished that while Mary could not feel any more Kate’s mother, that Kate had one of her real parents to share it with. On Christmas Day talk around the table had inevitably turned to the new Bridgerton Baby. Violet had already chosen her moniker Granny Violet when Amelia had been born earlier in the year and Violet had turned to Mary and said, What is the baby going to call you, Mary? Mary had stalled a little, her fork halfway to her mouth and said nonchalantly Just Mary I expect. She’d felt Kate still next to her and then say, hesitantly Do you not want to be Grandma Mary? Mary had felt tears in her eyes and choked down the lump in her throat to say I would love that, Katie.

Mary had walked hesitantly into the hospital room the day Edmund had been born,Edwina bouncing along excitedly behind her. she’d opened the door and her breath had caught a little. Kate was sitting, grinning broadly her chin resting on Anthony’s shoulder, who was nestled on the bed beside her, a tiny little bundle in his arms, his finger clutched in the tiny baby’s fist. Kate looked up at the noise and said Edmund, here’s Grandma Mary to hold you now! And as Mary started down at Kate’s tiny son, Her first grandchild, who let out a tiny yawn. Mary had never felt more like Kate’s mother.

Mary freely admits, with very much love, that Kate’s children are absolutely chaos personified. All of them in constant motion, always, Mary smirking at Edmund as she waited for him to notice whatever prank she’d set up for him. Edmund bickering quietly with Charlotte in the corner over whether you could stack +4 cards on top of +2 cards in Uno. Oh Edmund you are absolutely Insufferable! Charlotte hisses in such a Kate-like tone that Mary snorts into her tea. Miles is reading quietly in the corner calling into the argument every so often when his siblings call upon him. Kate sighs into her cup. Honestly, I should have known Anthony’s children would be absolute lunatics. I should have stopped at two but look at their stupid little faces. She says. Mary laughs, loudly as Anthony looks a little outraged Oh we’re blaming Anthony for this are we Katharine? I remember dealing with plenty of your lunacy young lady. Kate sits in open mouthed outrage Mary! You’re supposed to be my Mother! Honestly! And a warm feeling grows in Mary’s chest and she has to clear her throat several times again before she can speak.

Thank you very much for indulging me in these, and I hope you had a great end to your week!

#and just by the way you can stack +4s on top of each other but cannot mix 2s and 4s #don’t @ me on this #bridgerton and sons au #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #mary sheffield is a damn queen and we stan her in this house #mary sheffield #Sheffield family feels #molly’s asks and answers

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sailtoafarawayland · 3 years

Text

The Daughter You Have (Not That Girl)

Summary: “Take me home,” she whispered against him, and when she pushed onto her toes and hungrily met his lips with her own, pressing every bit of the things she wasn't ready to say yet into him, he knew that she wasn't just talking about a place.

Rated: T

(This is an edit of my very first story published over on FF way back in 2015, but new to AO3. I've corrected some grammar and fixed a few errors, but have kept it true to what my intentions were at the time. It follows "There's No Place Like Home", but continues as if neither the urn nor Marian returned to Storybrooke)

- AO3 -

Chapter 1/1

It was a little thing, nothing more than a gentle touch on his wrist, that opened Emma's eyes fully to something she had a feeling her subconscious had been protecting her from up until that point. David and Mary Margaret were disappointed with her. The signs had been there from the beginning – they were so obvious now that she was looking back – but it had been the family dinner at Granny's that had made their feelings perfectly clear.

Things had changed for Emma after she and Hook traveled through Zelena's time portal – a lot had changed, and when they'd finally gotten back, she knew what it was to return home. This was the town where her family was, where her heart was. The entire adventure had also opened her to other possibilities, things she had been eager and uninhibited in exploring since their return.

So when her mother called to let her know they were all meeting at Granny's for dinner, it hadn't occurred to her to do anything other than show up with the person she'd been spending her evening with. After all, they'd intended to eat at some point, so even though the family dinner would shorten other activities they'd had planned, Emma knew they'd make up for the distraction later.

The scene when she and Hook entered the diner was something that tugged at her heart. Every year when she was a child, she'd wished for the same thing on her birthday – to not be alone, to have a family. To have one now and really know that they weren't going to give her up, it was something she'd never thought she could have. So it was understandable, as caught up in the emotion of it all as she was, that she didn't notice the slight fall to Mary Margaret's face when they stepped inside, or the almost imperceptible tightening of David's mouth.

Placing a light kiss on Henry's forehead as he smiled up at her, she took the empty chair alongside him, the familiar heat of Killian beside her as he pulled out the chair at her right side, the comforting weight of his hook resting easily on her leg beneath the table.

She'd smiled at him, his own bright grin contagious beneath his flushed cheeks.

The two tables pushed together were crowded, Regina, Robin, and Roland being a natural extension of the weird, extended family they'd all fallen into, but everything felt perfect to Emma in that moment.

She was happy.

That's why it was so jarring when it happened.

They'd gone through the tedious chore of ordering food, Roland unable to decide between chicken fingers and pizza, and the conversation was light and easy. Laughing at a quiet comment Henry had made, she'd turned to share it will Killian, knowing he would enjoy the quick-witted remark. Henry had been enjoying spending quite a bit of time with the both of them lately, and clearly the pirate's verbosity had worn off on him. She'd leaned into him, the action intimate and familiar, her arm crossing his body to gently squeeze his hand as she whispered in his ear.

It was a small gesture of affection, an easy expression of her happiness, and if she hadn't happened to look across the table at the exact moment she did, she wouldn't have seen it, but she had, and she did.

Mary Margaret's quickly stifled sigh, the slight flare of David's nostrils.

In that moment, Emma didn't need to ask them if they disapproved of her relationship with Killian, to test their words and weigh them as truth or lie – she read it on their faces as easily as if they had sent her a text.

“I don't feel great,” Emma cut in, interrupting the flow of conversation as she stood abruptly, the legs of her chair stuttering against the floor. “Sorry, kid, but I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Henry shrugged, already turning his attention to the dessert menu he'd been eyeing up. “Feel better, Mom.”

She squeezed his shoulder once, a tight smile on her face, and turned toward the door, needing to get out of the diner that was suddenly too small to hold the frustration and anger coursing beneath her skin.

Killian rose with a bit more grace than she'd been able to muster, his words charming and polite despite the concern she could read beneath them.

Emma didn't go far, simply taking the few steps she needed to get away from the glare of the diner's lights before waiting for Killian to join her, immediate relief folding over her as she was enveloped by the scent of leather and salt – the mark of the sea far too ingrained in everything he wore to ever fade. The heat from her breath clung to his jacket as she pressed herself into his embrace, needing the closeness.

“Talk to me, Swan. Are you unwell?”

She didn't want to talk.

She didn't want to do anything other than run away from the fact that her parents were far from happy about her happiness. She just wanted to wrap herself in his body, finding peace in the friction between them that always brought her to completion so perfectly. She wanted to feel the slide of his fingers, rough and calloused, over her skin, the hard chill of his hook at her back.

She was happy, and they didn't want that for her.

If she didn't soothe the wound that realization left on her heart, she wasn't sure what she would storm back in there and say in front of everyone.

“Take me home,” she whispered against him, and when she pushed onto her toes and hungrily met his lips with her own, pressing every bit of the things she wasn't ready to say yet into him, he knew that she wasn't just talking about a place.

* ~ * ~ *

As Emma lie in his arms that night, listening to the slow creaks and moaning pipes that ran behind the walls of Granny's, her thoughts traveled back through the days and weeks since their return from the Enchanted Forest. She tried to remember how her parent's had been from that first moment until now.

There had been relief etched on their faces as Emma recounted their adventure, and gratefulness when they thanked Killian for not letting her go alone and keeping her safe. They had been friendly even, for once acting as if he belonged in Storybrooke, as if he had a place there and was more than an unwanted outsider looking through the window – but apparently their good will had an expiration, and that was as soon as they realized that they weren't the only reason she'd stayed instead of running back to New York.

All that time as her relationship with Killian progressed, she hadn't noticed their disappointment in the fact that it was growing and deepening rather than fading, a one time thing – because that was what she had seen on their faces in the diner, and it had shattered her.

She burrowed closer to Killian as he held her, his face serene and relaxed in sleep. She was thankful for that, knowing that some nights his old demons haunted him more deeply than others. It warmed her heart to know that those nights were becoming farther and fewer between. She didn't want to leave him when the sun came up, would miss the strength of his arms around her, the confidence that came so easily when he was at her side, but she knew she had to talk to her parents.

She knew what she had seen, but she had to hear it from them.

* ~ * ~ *

David's face moved quickly between his easy, morning smile to surprise as the door opened, then more slowly to the grim look of resolve. For a second, Emma couldn't figure out why she'd surprised him, and then she realized it was because she'd knocked. The realization left a small ache in her chest, the significance not lost on either of them. Though she'd been spending most nights at Granny's, up until last night, this had still felt like home.

“Who is it, David?”

She heard Mary Margaret's voice chime from the other side of the loft, the soft tapping of her shoes drawing closer.

“It's Emma,” he muttered, opening the door fully and waving her inside, his movements stilted.

Mary Margaret was smiling when she finally popped into view, but Emma could see the anxiety flickering in her eyes as she stepped through the door and closed it behind her, facing the both of them with more than a hint of discomfort in her stance.

“Henry didn't stop in, did he?”

He'd been staying most nights with Regina and Robin, enjoying spending time with Roland, but sometimes he would still swing by the loft in the mornings to meet her before they went to Granny's together for hot cocoa.

“He did, but we mentioned you weren't here and he said he'd wait for you at Granny's,” her mother said. “Did you want to head over – ”

“No,” Emma rushed, cutting her off and interrupting the motion Mary Margaret was making toward the door, her hand falling back to her side. “I need to talk with the both of you, about last night.”

“Emma, if this is about Hook – ”

“It's not...well, not directly. It's about me.”

Emma watched them uncomfortably, suddenly unsure of how to begin now that she was actually standing in front of them, David with his questioning eyes, and Mary Margaret with her hands twisted together in front of her waist. She was supposed to be able to do this. She'd broken a curse, fought a dragon, stood up to Cora, and fought to bring down Zelena. She was the Savior, she was supposed to be able to do everything, including confront her parents.

A longing to have her pirate standing beside her hit, his hand resting gently on her shoulder for support, but even though she knew she needed to do this alone, the brief flash of him in her mind was enough to spur her on.

He was worth fighting for.

“I saw the way you looked at us last night,” she began, the hurt obvious in her voice, no matter how steady she tried to make it. “When I touched his hand, I looked across at you, and you guys couldn't stand to see it.”

“Emma, you have to understand, we appreciate everything Hook did to help you get back home to us. We see that he's changed, please don't think we're blind to that,” Mary Margaret sighed, her eyebrows knit with concern.

“But you still don't think he's worthy of your respect, your trust...that he's worthy of me?”

“We do respect him, Emma, we really do,” David interjected, scratching the top of his head as he met Mary Margaret's eye, “but you have to understand, we never wanted someone like him for you.”

“Someone like him?” Her voice crept up in volume, ringing with disbelief.

“You deserve better.”

“Better than someone who has come to my rescue time and time again? Better than someone who gave up his actual home for a chance – no, less than a chance even – that he might be able to save me, to save all of you? Someone better than that?”

“You're forgetting all of the other things he's done, Emma – his past. We wanted something different for you, someone like your father, Not a – ”

“Not a pirate,” David snapped, unable to keep the vitriol from his tone.

“How dare you!” There was a venomous edge to her voice now, low and quiet. “How dare you think you have any right to an opinion on this. Are you kidding me? You dropped into a magic tree – and I get it, I understand that you had to, and that it broke your hearts, but now you need to understand something...”

She paused, taking a breath as she tried to loosen the tight fists she'd balled her hands into “All of those hopes and dreams you guys had for me, the things you envisioned shaping me into the woman you wanted me to be, they didn't go through the wardrobe. It was just me, all by myself. Whatever plans you've made for my future, they're for a person who doesn't exist. They're for the daughter you wanted, not the one you've got.”

“But the daughter you've got,” she continued, “she's pretty damn happy as she is. I didn't grow up in some fairy tale. I grew up in the real world. I was abandoned, betrayed, disappointed and left behind my entire life. I've got more bruises, and scars, and flaws than most people, but because of Killian, I've learned to accept them and move on, because all of them together put me right where I am today. You might not like the rough, gritty parts of him, his past, the hook, but I do. I love every part of him, and I will not sit here and let you treat this like I'm settling, because he is everything I need, and everything I want.”

She found herself nearly breathless after her rant, fists shaking at her sides as she stared at her parents wide-eyed in front of her. She had hoped the weight on her chest would lighten once she put everything she felt out into the open, but instead she was faced with a lingering tightness that wouldn't budge, suddenly aware that they may have considered all of those things and still disapproved.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret sighed, locking eyes with David before reaching forward and taking her daughter's clenched fists in her hands. “You may have grown up here, but you were born in the Enchanted Forest, a princess and the product of true love. If you're destined to have a True Love of your own, then surely it's not someone – ”

Emma didn't give her a chance to finish her sentence, tearing her hands free and throwing the door open, the heavy wood bouncing off the wall as she stormed out without a backward glance. The resounding thump of the door falling back into place and closing behind her somehow trickled through the roar of anger thumping in her ears and she paused, pressing her forehead and hands against the cool wall down the hallway.

“You alright there, love?”

The rage she'd been feeling slipped away from her at the sound of his voice, her legs suddenly shaking and less steady than they should have been for someone who was stone cold sober. Thankfully, he was at her side the minute she turned from the wall that had been lending her a little support, his arms catching her as they sunk to the floor together, his leather jacket splayed across the rug as he knelt, arms circling around her as she tucked her head into his chest and closed her eyes.

Her heart ached in a way she hadn't expected to feel again, in the same way it had when the cop told her to turn around and she'd realized someone she'd counted on had let her down.

It ached until he whispered against her hair, soothing noises and assurances that everything would be well, the timbre of his voice bringing her peace.

“What are you doing here?” Emma whispered, wondering how he'd known to look for her at her parent's loft, and suddenly very glad they hadn't decided to follow her into the hallway. She had no idea how she'd react seeing them again so soon after what Mary Margaret had just been about to say. She needed time, and they probably did as well.

“I will admit I was adrift when I woke without you this morning, Swan,” he confided, placing another soft kiss to her hair, “but I thought perhaps you'd been craving some of that chocolate concoction you like, so I went to Granny's, wondering if that's where you'd run off to.”

“It's called hot chocolate. Did you see Henry there?”

“Aye, the lad was showing me something in a book about the stars that Belle had given him. He thought perhaps you'd gone to see if he was at the loft.”

Emma sat up quickly, leaning out of Killian's lap so she could search the stairwell below, her chest tightening painfully at the thought of Henry overhearing what had gone on with her parents.

“He's not here, Swan. I had a feeling there was something that needed addressing between you and your parents after last night.”

“How did you know?”

“I'm a pirate, love. We've a keen sense for danger – a word that would fairly describe your temperament a moment ago.”

“Where is he?”

“Ah, I sent him over to our room to retrieve the sextant I'd told him about the other day. I thought it would be useful for him to see how it works for the paper he's writing.”

“That's good,” she murmured, settling back into his lap. “I wouldn't him have wanted him to hear me that upset with his grandparents.”

“Aye, angry is what you were a moment ago, but how do you feel now, Swan?”

“Blood spectacular,” she laughed, snuffing her nose that she hadn't realized was now stuffy, her eyes burning slightly at the tears she wouldn't shed.

She felt the absence of Killian's arm around her as he reached up and scratched behind his ear, a nervous habit she thought was pretty cute.

“Well, in that case, what do you say to a change of scenery, a leisurely stroll, perhaps?”

“Your legs are numb, aren't they?”

“Aye.”

* ~ * ~ *

Days had passed since Emma confronted her parents, and still she hadn't asked him the question he'd been dreading. He had expected it right away, and she'd surprised him by not seeming the concerned in the least that may have overheard her conversation. His Swan, still managing to surprise him even after how much they'd learned of one another. Perhaps now that they'd grown closer than he had ever hoped was possible, she had no words left to hide from him.

They spent those days enjoying the company of one another and the continued absence of any threats to the town. Walks with Henry to the dock were frequent. The lad had developed a true curiosity about everything to do with the sea, and though he no longer had the Jolly with which to entertain the boy, he never regretted it – though Emma often gripped his hand more tightly whenever they passed by the spot where she had once anchored so long ago.

She'd asked him only once if he regretted it, and he'd been able to look her in the eye and speak honestly.

Never, not for a second, Emma.

Hours spent twisted among his sheets were also frequent, his fingers never tiring of their play across her body, but his Swan was quite perceptive, and he knew she felt the subtle change in his demeanor that had plagued him ever since that morning at her parent's loft.

When it had lingered for more than a week – his breath hitching in his throat as he watched her fall asleep, thinking she was too far gone to notice, she finally asked him.

“Killian, will you please tell me?”

A part of him wanted to sweep her into his arms, fingers threading through her hair as he grinned, disarming her with some witty banter about how the only thing bothering him was her state of dress, mainly that the shirt she'd donned was too much, but the smile wouldn't come to his lips, and he had no desire in his heart to lie to her.

“Your mother, Emma...what she said. Surely it's the truth.”

She stiffened against him and pulled away, the immediate distance she's placed between them striking his chest with both fear and pain, though it was the reflection of both in her eyes that injured him most. His words had hurt her, but neither could he lie. She would know, and it would pain her just the same.

“What do you mean?”

“She told you no untruths, love. You were born a princess in the Enchanted Forest, the daughter of heroes and a Savior in your own right – someone destined to have a true happy ending.”

“What I was supposed to be doesn't mean anything, you and I both know that, Killian.”

“But what if she's right?” he nearly whispered, dread thick on his tongue as his sea-blue eyes bored into her own. “What if it means everything? What if there is true love waiting for you, a man destined for you – a man who never killed because he could, nor lived solely for vengeance until it blackened his heart?”

“I believe that, Killian – ”

Her words were a frigid wave of his deepest fears washing over him, the doubts he was voicing suddenly far more substantial than when they'd haunted his dreams.

“ – a part of it, that is,” she continued, sliding closer in his bed and running her fingers through his inky, dark locks. “I believe I have a true love. The only difference, you idiot, is that I know I've already found him, so don't do this to me. Don't doubt me now when you never have before. After all the chasing, just because I finally stopped running doesn't mean it's your turn.”

The tips of her fingers stroked through his hair, returning softly along his jaw and cupping his face. He reached out for her then, twirling a strand of her golden hair around his finger, his heart leaping as he took in every curve and peak of her face as she smiled. He wanted to have her faith, to believe as she did that he could be her everything – because was certainly everything to him.

Slipping easily onto his lap, the sheets pooling around their waists, she rested her forehead against his, moving to wind her fingers in his own, her other hand firmly grasping his stump, loving every part of him. His heart ached with how much he loved her in return.

“What do you say, Killian. Can you take that leap of faith with me, that no matter what, from here on out it will always be us?”

And because she asked and he trusted her implicitly, believed her in the very core of his being, he could. His lips crashed against hers, rocking them both back onto the bed as they shared each breath, passion and love and a feeling of rightness brightening each move they made. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to vanish any breath of space between them. Possessiveness and need slowly rolled into the slow rise of tenderness and longing, their bodies moving and melding seamlessly as they poured their commitment into each shuddering breath. When they finally broke apart, their heated bodies resting atop the sheets, he knew in his heart how true her words had been, because he could never leave this miraculous woman who'd brightened his life, who'd chosen to be his. He loved her too greatly, too deeply, and every day till his very last he would choose her.

“It will always be you,” he whispered against her neck, clinging to her as if she was the only thing keeping him afloat in an endless sea, and perhaps she was. “Always, Emma.”

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmom0f4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells

#Captain Swan #cs fanfic #CS fic #emma and hook #sailtoafarawayland #The Daughter You Have

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iamnotoriginalphil · 4 years

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Oooft okay I have some prompts for Regina mills x female reader if u r okay with writing smut lmao could u do one prompt of "Remember that thing you did to me last night? I'm wet just thinking about it" and maybe like the next day Emma teases her about how flustered she is around Regina and she doesn't even know they are hooking up? (Write it if u wanna lmao)

Here you are Anon. I hope you like it!

You were sitting in an armchair, your fingers drawing meaningless patterns on the soft leather of the arm. You were staring into the flickering flames of the fire, bottom lip caught between your teeth. You were waiting for the sound of the front door, your thighs pressed tightly together. You shifted in your seat.

A loud bang in the front entrance let you know Regina was home. You turned your head, waiting for her to come find you. The seconds grew longer and longer, drawn out in tortuous anticipation.

“Why are you sitting in the dark?”

Soft fingers ran over the back of your neck as she moved into the light. You looked up, her face shrouded in shadows. All you could see was her lips, a smile growing as she looked down at you. You were sure you must look a picture, face flushed, eyes wide, lip bitten.

“Have you been waiting for me?”

You nodded. She reached out, cupping your cheek, pulling your lip from between your teeth with her thumb. You nipped at it. She chuckled.

“Is all of this for me?” You were sure her eyes were running over your body and you wished you could see them.

“Remember that thing you did to me last night?” Her smile turned into a smirk, “I’m wet just thinking about it.”

She stepped forward, letting the light wash over her face. Her eyes were dark and she wasn’t taking her gaze from you. You stared up into her face, waiting for her to say something. She knelt in front of you, resting her hands on your knees.

“Is that what has you in such a state?” Her thumb ran in a circle over the skin of your knee.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” you replied.

“I should hope not.”

She slipped her scarf from around her neck. She sat up, pulling your arms behind your back. The silk of her scarf was soft against your skin but the knot was too tight for you to move. She cocked her head, considering you as you shifted in your seat again. You tested the bonds holding you, a flush growing on your cheeks.

She pushed your knees apart, settling between your thighs. She looked up at you from under her eyelashes as she pressed a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Do not move a muscle,” she murmured, standing up again.

She disappeared from view. You knew better than to watch her go, knowing it wasn’t worth the fleeting image of her for the torture she’d put you through for disobeying orders. You waited in the still room, the anticipation bubbling in you. Your fingers clutched at the scarf binding you.

“As pretty as a picture.”

Regina came back into view in considerably less clothing. Each of her steps were deliberate as she sauntered towards you. Her hips were swaying as she tapped her lip with her index finger. Her head was titled, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

She knelt in front of you again, running her fingers up your bare calf. You inhaled sharply. She pulled your underwear from your body, tossing them over her shoulder. She pulled you forward until you were on the edge of the seat. You whined.

“Be a good girl for your queen.”

She ran the flat of tongue through your folds, her fingers digging in to the the flesh of your thigh. You strained against the binding around your wrists, wanting to tangle your fingers in the silky strands of her hair. She hummed, doing it again. A breathy moan fell from your lips.

She wrapped her lips around your clit, sucking harshly on your bundle of nerves. You made a high keening noise, your head falling back.

She sat back on her heels, watching you. You whined again, struggling to touch her. She chuckled. Her hand strayed between your legs, drawing lacy circles over your bundle of nerves.

“Look at me.”

You took a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to open your eyes. She was staring at you, her eyes dark, her cheeks flushed. You bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, muffing the moan desperate to get out.

“Let your queen hear you.”

A groan fell from your lips as she pressed a vibrating object to your entrance. She pressed her lip to your skin, watching you from under her eyelashes. You couldn’t catch your breath.

She pressed the vibrator against your clit, sending jolts through your body. You panted, your legs convulsively clenching around her. She forced them apart again, burying her face between your thighs. Your head fell back again.

She didn’t let up until she’d made you cum four times in quick succession, leaving you a trembling mess.

She stood up, pulling the silk scarf from your wrists, throwing it to the ground. She scooped you up, positioning you on her lap. Her fingers stroked over your back as she pressed kisses to your hairline. You pressed yourself against her, burying your face in her shoulder.

The next day, after a long, deep sleep, you were standing outside Granny’s, conferring with the do gooders about the lastest situation in Storybrooke. You had your arms crossed over your chest, sneaking glances at Regina. She kept giving you a knowing look, causing you to flush. You could still feel her touch on your skin.

“I’m gonna go get some coffee,” you muttered to Emma after Regina had shot you a particularly heated look.

You slid into a stool at the counter, burying your face in your hands. You needed to get it together, or else everyone was going to know. There was a reason Regina had asked to keep it a secret, just for a little while. You couldn’t be the reason they all knew.

“I know your secret.”

You jerked up, almost falling off your stool. Warm hands grabbed you, keeping you upright. blonde hair and sparkling eyes met your questioning gaze.

“My… secret?”

“I couldn’t help but notice that a certain mayor is making you blush,” Emma said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, turning your eyes away from her.

“You have a crush,” she laughed.

“I do not.”

“Hey, no judgement. Some people like that whole morally ambiguous thing. I get it. Power’s hot.” She nudged your shoulder. You shot her a glare.

“I do not have a crush,” you ground out.

“It’s okay. We all get them. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

“Are you two done, or do we need to keep waiting for you to be done gossiping?”

You slipped off your stool, not even bothering to wait for your coffee. Anything to get away from Emma and her probing. You passed Regina who was glaring at Emma. She followed behind you, giving you a knowing smile. You rejoined the conversation, doing your best to ignore Emma. You heard the bell on the door behind you.

“You forgot your coffee.”

Your fingers brushed against Regina’s as you took the take away cup form her. She gave you a soft smile.

“If Emma is annoying you, I could always set her on fire,” she murmured to you.

“I think the others might take issue with that,” you replied.

She chuckled, taking her place beside you in the group. Emma gave you a knowing look. You bowed your head over your coffee cup, flushing at the brush of fingers over your lower back. Such exquisite torture was worth it when your prize was your queen.

#regina mills #regina mills imagine #regina mills x reader #ouat #ouat imagine

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