#killian literally would have been number 1
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Pick 10 ships without looking at the questions before
Just something I found and decided to kill an hour to do:
1. FierroChase (Alex Fierro and Magnus Chase, Gods of Asgard)
2. Wolfstar( Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, Harry Potter)
3. Captain Swan (Killian Jones and Emma Swan, Once Upon a Time)
4. Gallavitch (Micky Milkovich and Ian Gallagher, Shameless)
5. Nominita (Nomi Marks and Amanita Caplin, Sense8)
6. Korrasami (Korra and Asami Sato, The Legend of Korra)
7. EBay (Emmet Bletso and Bay Kennish, Switched at Birth)
8. Spitfire (Artemis Crock and Wall West, Young Jusitce)
9. Charlie Epps and Amita Ramanujan (Numb3rs, Not a popular enough show to have a ship name to my disappointment)
10. Ash Redfern and Mary-Lynnette Carter (Night World, Same as above)
Question 1. Do you remember the episode/scene/chapter that you first started shipping 6?
I got the vibe right from the start where Korra only kept writing to Asami and nobody else, and was pleased as punch how the show hinted at them becoming a thing at the end, then whooped out loud when the show runners confirmed it after it was done
Question 2. Have you ever read a FanFiction about 2?
(Insert hysterical laugh and gestures at 90% of what I read in my free time)
Question 3. Has a picture of 4 ever been your screen saver/profile picture/tumblr avatar?
No, but mostly because I prefer images to couples
Question 4. If 7 were to suddenly break up today, what would your reaction be?
Ebay, They did break up! And I was not happy with it! I am still salty at how this ship ended and am convinced they would have gotten back together if the show kept going!
Question 5. Why is 1 so important?
Alex Fierro was my spirit animal the moment he/ she was introduced, a shape shifter with an attitude, but a genuine person. What you see is what you get. Magnus being instantly in love with her/ him was my reaction too, and Alex deserves someone as wholesome and special as Magnus Chase
Question 6. Is 9 a funny ship or a serious ship?
Numb3rs, Oh it’s plenty serious, the show centers on their relationship a good chunk of the time and ends with their wedding and they’re so cute together in every scene. The episode where Amita is kidnapped, (Angels and Devils) still shocks and breaks my heart for Charlie every time I watch it.
Question 7. Out of all of your ships listed, which ship has the most chemistry?
Ugh, define chemistry?! I love all of these ships for the same reason in each, I love how they care for each other. In every ship I can identify one moment that makes my heart swell seeing them together in cannon and always puts a smile on my face.
If you mean chemistry as an explosion though, gun to my head forced answer, I pick Gallavitch
Question 8. Out of all of the ships, which ship has the strongest bond?
Ash and Mary-Lynnette or Wolfstar, both have this soulmate eternal bond thing going for them where they can love other people but were meant to be together in every way and always find their way back
Forced answer, Ash and Mary-Lynnette, since they’re literal soulmates rather than metaphorical ones
Question 9. How many times have you read/watched 10’s fandom?
A good dozen times in the past, but not recently. I read Nightworld in my teen years and quickly grew obsessed with the idea of soulmates, I already loved apocalypse end of the world type things plus supernatural themes, and it was the first ever reading the books fanfic I tried to do, but stopped for the same reason I haven’t reread it in a long time, the last book was never written! And at this rate probably never will be. I’m just still so smitten with every single soul mate in these nine books, Ash and Mary-Lynette just rank number one of all of them
Question 10. Which ship has lasted the longest?
I’m not sure what answer it’s after here? In chronological years of the show, I think Gallavitch would win, despite being on and off so long they lasted years together and ended up together at the end. The show of these with the longest run time is also Shameless, so that one by default I guess, though FierroChase is immortal even having only three books, so they’d win long term?
If it’s asking which I’ve shipped the longest, Wolfstar, back when I first read PoA. I’ve read The Servant of Lord Voldemort more times than anybody can count and their scenes together cemented themselves as my first pairing as far back as I can remember before I was intentionally shipping anything, Remus and Sirius were always together from that moment on.
Question 11. How many times, if ever, has 6 broken up?
Well Korrasami was only confirmed off screen after the show ended, so none technically, but I don’t believe in perfect couples who never have a disagreement so realistically it’s bound to happen at least once in their happily ever after
Question 12. If the world was suddenly thrust into a zombie apocalypse, which ship would make it out alive, 2 or 8?
Wolfstar or Spitfire?
Depends on if magic is allowed in this zombie apocalypse. If Remus and Sirius are Muggles, sorry boys, Artemis and Wally (even in this totally human scenario where he’s not a speedster) Artemis would kick enough ass to save her boo to win
If they were all at their normal badass capacity? It’s a fair 50/50 shot for both. You’d have to do a Death Battle going over every iota of detail to pick a winner.
Question 13. Did 7 ever have to hide their relationship for any reason?
EBay sort of started as s secret so Bay wouldn’t hurt Daphne’s feelings, but after that no. In my head after the show, when Travis didn’t come home from Japan after the third time because of scheduling issues, Bay would have run back to Emmet and cheated on Travis to be together with him again and they would have hid that until it came out and she was back together with him. Not a nice, neat ending, but what I think would have inevitably happened.
Question 14. Is 4 still together?
Gallavich is a Yes! Married! Thinking about kids! (Like Yevginny doesn't exist and is never mentioned again? Which the show ignores but not the point!)
Question 15. Is 10 canon?
Ash and Mary-Lynette are sort of, yes, mostly absolutely, though not currently together do to personal reason the characters are working through :(
Question 16. If all ten ships were put into a couple’s Hunger Games, which couple would win?
Ugh, way to many factors to consider with the varying degrees of powers going on in some of these.
If they were all human, again I like Artemis Crock’s chances of survival since she is already human and badass in a world of superhero's and basically another set of Katniss and Peta going on here.
Kilian has a decent chance of him and Emma winning for the same reason if you strip her Savior powers since they’re so resourceful as humans.
Alex and Magnus are basically a parallel (sometimes gender swapped) Peta and Katniss too on the scale going on here so they’d be scary contenders without their enerji boost.
Micky and Ian might have never had to survive outside the south side, but Ian’s got some minor military training and Micky’s just a terrifying brutal person with a blessed heart, so another insane match to beat. Those are my top four at minimum.
Question 17. Has anybody ever tried to sabotage 5’s ship?
Nomi’s own parents! And Whispers can burn in hell where he belongs!
Question 18. Which ship would you defend to the death and beyond?
All. Of. Them. I have limited obsessions and you cannot fight me on their existence. The order that I go through each fandom is above.
Question 19. Do you spend hours a day going through 3’s tumblr page?
CaptainSwan; I would if there was more content :( Sadly I got here a lot late after the show was long done so there’s not much new
Question 20. If an evil witch descended from the sky and told you that you had to pick one of the ten ships to break up forever or else she’d break them all up forever, which ship would you sink?
I regret this entire experience just for this question, but if I must, Korrasami. I only have my own head cannon content to keep them together and I won’t sacrifice what I do have for the others for something I can reinvent after this evil witch leaves
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Firstlife prologue & chapter 1
Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions
Bonus Chapters
TROIKA
From: A_P_5/23.43.2
To: L_N_3/19.1.1
Subject: Tenley Lockwood
I don’t know what’s happening. This is literally how the book starts: with several emails between two characters. I had to scroll through all of them (one email per page) simply to make sure that this wasn’t going to be the entire fucking book. It’s not. Chapter 1 starts after this.
With all due respect, I’d rather fish out my internal organs with a coat hanger than stay here.
I don’t know what’s happening, but big mood.
Your mother’s name and where to find her.
Bonus chapter/Prologue/Whatever the hell is going on here summary: So as I mentioned, we opened on a bunch of emails. The first set is between somebody named Archer Prince and his boss, General Levi Nanne. Archer has been tasked to convince the main character, Tenley Lockwood, to join their side. Archer thinks that this is a load of garbage, and complains about it. General Nanne is like “SUCK IT UP, BUTTERCUP!”
The second set is between Killian Flynn and HIS boss, Madame Pearl Bennett. It’s the same thing, but Killian 100% wants to woo Tenley over basically with seduction. He’s also way less chill about the entire thing, and is certain that Tenley would simply become “another cog in the machine”. He also wants to rip off Archer’s arms and beat Archer with his own arms. Pearl isn’t amused by Killian’s plan, and tells him to beat Archer in his own free time.
All of this would probably be interesting… IF THE READERS KNEW WHAT THE GODDAMNED HELL WAS GOING ON.
Chapter 1
I’ve been locked inside the Prynne Asylum—where happiness comes to die —for three hundred and seventy-eight days.
I’m suddenly having really violent flashbacks to the Shatter Me series. Opening on a girl locked in an asylum telling us how long she’s been in there? Check.
Also, the reviews warn me that despite the fact that there’s a war going on, neither side knows why they’re fighting. Which also checks out with the Shatter Me parallels.
I hope that these are the only parallels, but… The fates are usually never that kind to me.
There are no windows in the building. At least, none that I’ve found. And I’ve never been allowed outside. None of the inmates have.
[...]
Last night I was caned just because.
I see that we’re opening strong on some torture porn.
Maybe because my name is Tenley—Ten to my friends.
I thought that the review with the gif of “Listen up 5s, a 10 is talking” was a joke. No. It is 100% not a joke at all. This is literally her goddamned name.
Dr. Vans, the head of the asylum, likes to taunt us.
Judging by everything told to us in literally two pages, I’m going to go ahead and say it: I don’t believe that man has ever gone to medical school.
Something we’re never given? Razors. I keep my legs and underarms smooth with threads I’ve pulled from old uniforms.
Ah yes. Because when I’m being imprisoned and my human rights stripped, the number one thing on my mind is: are my armpits baby smooth?
The author could have written literally anything, and she gave us this dumpster fire of a line.
“I’m Bow, your new best friend.”
I can’t even pretend to be surprised that the great mind that gave us Ten as a name is also giving us Bow.
Yes, Bo is a name. But when you add in the w, it turns it from a human name into an adorable accessory for a little girl.
She cups her breasts in a mimic of me and beams. “Boobs are awesome, yeah? Literal fun-bags. I don’t know what you girls are always complaining about.”
“Don’t you mean us girls?” Her hands fall away from her fun-bags.
“Dude. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the equipment and getting a little some-some of my own goods and services. Seriously. I’m so hot even I want a piece of me.”
If this is Killian or Archer, I’m honestly laughing so hard over either of them being put into a girl’s body. Love triangle? Forget love triangles. Give me more of whatever the hell this is.
A rare few people, like me, have no idea which side to back. We see merits to both sets of beliefs. We also see downsides.
We are called the Unsigned.
For us, there are rumors of a third spirit realm, the place we’ll end up after Firstdeath. My parents used to tell me horror stories about it, stories whispered in the dark of night. The Realm of Many Ends, where nightmares come to life.
Side one: War
Side two: War
Yeah. I’m still in chapter one, and I can understand why people are like “You both suck. There should be a third option.”
I know that this is supposed to be a heaven/hell comparison, but I’m honestly seeing a lot of political parallels in this.
I cast Bow a humorless smile. “Welcome to Prynne.”
Chapter 1 summary: Now that we’re in the actual story and not whatever the fuck was in the beginning… We’re given some measure of explanation.
Basically, this is a world where life comes in two stages. The titular firstlife, where you’re born, and age. And then you die, and you begin your second life. However, before you die, people want you to sign an unbreakable contract with blood that you’ll join one of two factions: Myriad (aka heaven) or Troika (aka hell). There is supposed to be a third option that’s somehow worse than the two of those. But if you ask me (and our main character, apparently), being whipped for all eternity because you refused to pick heaven or hell sounds better than being forced to fight in a war that you 100% don’t support. And dying for the second and final time sooner rather than later. Because of that war.
Anyway, so there’s a lot of torture porn in this chapter. I’m really over it, because you know that MC is going to leave soon, simply so that the actual story can start. She gets a new roommate, a girl named Bow. But I’m pretty sure that it’s Killian. She/He’s nuttier than squirrel poo, and knows way too much about life in the asylum for Ten’s comfort.
As the girls leave their room for breakfast, they get at it with another inmate, Sloan.
#Firstlife#Everlife series#prologue#Chapter 01#Tenley 'Ten' Lockwood#What Is Happening#story parallels#can we not#but why#Bow (Everlife)#shitty politics are shitty
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Dead Man’s Cell Phone--Chapter 4
Summary: When Emma Swan starts getting phone calls and texts from an unfamiliar number, she decides to check it out–only to discover the number belongs to a Killian Jones, who was killed in a robbery gone wrong six months ago. With some help from a medium, Merlin Emrys, Emma hopes to find out why a dead guy is contacting her–and why she feels such a strong pull to someone she has never met before.
Rating: K+
Welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! A big thank you to @cssns, the ladies on the Discord! Thank you also to @eastwesthomeisbest, my artist and my beta @veryverynotgood!
Other Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 Epilogue
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Killian felt as though he were swimming up from the bottom of the ocean. Everything was dark and still, the sounds around him muffled, as though he were hearing them through the water. And then suddenly the water cleared and he pushed through the surface.
The first thing he saw upon opening his eyes was her face, her beautiful radiant face looking down on him with hope and perhaps a bit of trepidation.
"Swan, at last!" he whispered past a throat as dry as sandpaper.
How he knew her name he had no idea, but know it he did, just as he had the strangest feeling he knew her--had communicated with her, had a connection with her.
Given the standoffish way she'd treated their one previous encounter, he expected her to pull away, to become defensive at his familiar use of her name, but she surprised him. Instead of shying away, she smiled at him, let her hand linger on his cheek a moment longer and simply said, "Welcome back."
A nurse came in at that moment, and Killian looked around in surprise. For the first time, he realized he was in a hospital.
"What--" he croaked before taking a sip of water the nurse brought him. "What happened?"
"We were rather hoping you could tell us that," replied a handsome black man who stood at a discreet distance.
"Killian, I'd like you to meet Merlin Emrys," Emma said. "It's thanks to him we were able to find you."
Killian held out his hand, and shook Merlin's. "You have my thanks."
"You're most welcome," Merlin said with a smile, "but I assure you I was only a small part of the puzzle. You owe your waking to Miss Swan here--to her and to the connection you share."
It was odd, Killian thought, that neither he nor Emma had introduced themselves to each other; it was even more odd that it felt as though such an introduction would be redundant. What had happened to them to make them feel as though they'd known each other for decades?
Soulmates, a small voice inside of him insisted.
"You have my deepest gratitude," Killian said, looking around at the two people with him, "both of you."
Emma took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Do you remember anything about...whatever it was that brought you here?"
Killian thought intently for a moment, closing his eyes to help himself concentrate. "I remember…" He looked up at Emma. "I remember you, love. I remember running into you, quite literally, and then I came across a scuffle in an alley. I tried to intervene and was struck from behind, and then...nothing."
"Killian," Emma said gently, "that was half a year ago. You were declared dead, and your family interred you in the family mausoleum. Do you know how that could have happened?"
Killian shook his head. "I have no idea, love. It is a mystery--"
Suddenly the flower vase on the bedside table crashed to the floor, making Killian jump.
"What the hell?!" Emma exclaimed.
It was me!
Killian jumped in the bed. He’d heard the voice as clearly as he’d heard Emma’s exclamation, but the voice wasn’t in the room; it was in his head.
“Did you….did you hear that?” he asked, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline.
“Yeah, I think so,” she said. She looked as disconcerted as he felt. “Merlin? What’s happening?”
Killian turned to look at the other man in the room, but he wasn’t paying them any mind. His attention was focused near the nightstand and the shattered vase. For a moment, he merely stared intently, and then he nodded, as though acknowledging someone--or something--neither Killian nor Emma could see.
“Emma,” Merlin said, finally turning back toward the bed, “do you remember when you first came to me, I sensed another spirit with us? An angry and quite desperate one?”
Emma furrowed her brows. “Um...yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“He’s with us now,” Merlin said. “He’s the voice you heard, and he’s responsible for the broken vase.”
“Okay…”
“Killian,” Merlin said, “his name is Arthur. Arthur Pendragon. He says he made a terrible decision. He borrowed a good deal of money from the mobster known as Hades. The business venture he’d gambled the money on fell through, and to put it mildly, Hades was not pleased.”
“Clearly things went rather badly for him after that if he’s a ghost,” Killian said slowly, “but I’m afraid I don’t follow. What does this Arthur Pendragon have to do with any of us?”
It was me!!
This time the shout in his head was so loud it was nearly deafening. Killian scowled, glaring in the general direction of the nightstand where he assumed the spirit was standing--or whatever it is that spirits do when they’re haunting the living.
“Seems like someone’s impatient,” Emma said dryly. “Merlin, how about you stop with the vagueness and just spit it out. Who is -or I guess who was- Arthur, and why does he insist on yelling at us?”
“Arthur Pendragon is haunting you both because he was the man in the alley, the man you tried to save, Killian.”
Killian blew out a long breath. “Clearly my attempts were fruitless.”
Merlin shook his head. “No, you weren’t able to save his life, but he’s here for a reason. Maybe you can help him now, help him move on, help him find peace.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help, I’m at his disposal,” Killian said, “but why the bloody hell does he keep repeating ‘it was me’?”
Merlin turned toward the nightstand and listened for another moment, and then he turned back to the bed, smiling.
“It would seem Arthur Pendragon is the solution to the mystery you face,” Merlin said. “It was Arthur’s body the authorities found in the alley. Your phone, Killian, was found beside him. Given the fact that he was beaten until he was unrecognizable, and given the fact that he bore a rather uncanny resemblance to you in life, it was believed he was you. It was his body that was shipped back to England.”
Emma whistled. “That’s quite the mistake.”
“Indeed,” Merlin agreed.
“So, how can we help him?” Killian asked. “How can we move him toward the light?”
“Arthur wishes his body to be returned back home,” Merlin said, “and he wishes a message be conveyed to his widow, Guinevere.”
“I can manage that,” Killian said. “What precisely is the message?”
“Arthur wishes to tell Gwen, as he calls her, that he’s sorry,” Merlin said. “He knows his obsession wounded his wife deeply, and he wishes more than anything that he’d been a better husband to her. He wants to thank her for her constant love and faithfulness, even when he was not worthy of it, but now she should follow her heart with his blessing. Lance du Lac is a good man, and Arthur hopes they are happy together.”
“I promise you, Arthur,” Emma said, taking Killian’s hand, “I’ll find your wife, and I’ll pass on your message.”
Killian felt a whoosh of coldness pass him, and then it was gone. Suddenly the room felt warmer, lighter.
Emptier.
“He’s moved on,” Merlin said. “Thanks to the both of you, a man who was very troubled--both in life and in death--was able to find peace.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
3 days later
Emma knocked softly on the doorframe, and then stepped inside Killian’s hospital room. He looked up from his seat in the plush chair in the corner, and his entire face lit up at the sight of her.
It made the butterflies dance in her stomach. He was gorgeous when he smiled like that, and she had to admit, the dark-wash jeans, blue button-up and black leather jacket didn’t hurt either. Lying in the bed in a hospital gown he was easy on the eyes, but up and dressed--woah!
His delighted grin turned knowing, and Emma felt her face flame. She was quite sure she hadn’t been this ridiculously attracted to someone since...well, she wasn’t sure it’d ever been like this.
“Looks like someone’s eager to get out of the hospital,” Emma said.
“Aye,” Killian agreed with a nod. “I believe I’ve spent more than enough time in this small room. I’m eager to make the most of my last day in the States.”
After waking from the coma and learning the truth of what happened to him, Killian had made an immediate call to his brother, Liam, paying no mind to the time difference that made it the middle of the night in England.
“Brother?” Killian said as soon as the call connected. “Are you sitting down?”
Emma had gotten up to leave then, not wanting to intrude on a private family moment, but Killian stopped her, squeezing her hand and begging her with his expressive eyes to stay.
Liam had offered to jump on the next plane to the States, but Killian had refused. “It’s been six months, Liam,” he’d said. “If my calculations are correct, my small niece or nephew is to be born any day. Elsa needs you now more than I do.”
Killian listened for a moment before grinning at Emma and rolling his eyes. “Stop fussing, Liam,” he murmured affectionately. “I’m not a lad anymore. I can manage alone.”
“You won’t be alone,” Emma said with conviction. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
And she had. She’d spent every free moment here with him at the hospital over the ensuing three days until the doctor had agreed to release him. Emma had long since stopped wondering about the connection she felt to Killian, had stopped fighting against the pull she felt toward him. Whatever odd twist of fate had brought the two of them together, together they were, and Emma found she had no desire to fight against the warmth and happiness being with him brought.
But now, well now, it was all about to come to an end. Killian’s flight was first thing in the morning, and afterward, there would be an entire ocean between them.
Emma’s heart plummeted. There were far too many obstacles for a “relationship”--or whatever you’d call what they had--that had lasted all of a week. She didn’t even know if he felt the same way about her that she did about him. In less than twenty-four hours, she’d have to say goodbye to the man who had somehow managed to burrow his way into her heart, and for all she knew that goodbye would be permanent.
“The doctor should be here any minute for a last check, and then you’re out of here,” Emma said, forcing the dismal thoughts from her mind. Killian being released from the hospital was a good thing. She wasn’t going to ruin the moment by being glum.
“I must admit, I’ll be pleased to be rid of this place,” Killian said with a wry grin. “How the devil is one expected to convalesce and get his rest when the nurses come to poke and prod every five minutes?”
Emma laughed. “Quit complaining,” she said. “You know you had all the nurses eating out of the palm of your hand.”
“They seem to have adopted me as their pet over the past few months, haven’t they? Even if the brigands who attacked me rather knocked the handsome out of me.”
Emma grinned. “No one’s that powerful.”
He enjoyed her flirting, if his pleased grin was any indication. After a moment, he sobered. “I want to thank you, Swan, for saving me, pulling me from the coma.”
She smiled gently. “Did you really think I’d let you waste away in here if I could help it?”
“I’d hardly blame you if you did,” he answered. “After all, we were strangers. Not one person in a hundred who received a phone call from a dead man would put in half the effort you did to track it down.”
Emma shrugged. “It was weird. I had the strangest feeling of connection to you, even though as far as I knew at the time, I’d never even seen you before. No way I could have just let you languish here.”
The doctor came in at that moment, and their conversation was put on hold as he did his final examination before declaring Killian fit to go about his normal life.
“So, I went ahead and booked you a room at Granny’s Bed and Breakfast,” Emma said when they were once again at home. “Granny put you in the same room you’d been in during your vacation, before, you know, everything happened.”
“I greatly appreciate it, love.”
“I guess, um,” she said, “we should go. I’ll drop you off and let you enjoy your last day in Storybrooke however you’d like.”
Emma turned to leave the room, but Killian stopped her with a hand to her arm. “Do you know how I’d most like to spend my last day in the States?”
She shook her head.
“I’d like to spend it with you,” he said with a gentle smile. “Would you allow me to buy you lunch?”
Her heart pounded. “Are you...are you asking me out?”
He nodded, taking her hand and lacing their fingers. “If you’re amenable, aye, I’m absolutely asking you out. What do you say?”
Emma stepped into his space, cupped the back of his head with her free hand, and brought his lips down to hers. If he was surprised at the kiss, he didn’t show it, responding as soon as her lips touched his.
And gods did he know how to kiss. Emma was more than tempted to scrap their lunch date and simply stay here making out all day. Food was overrated compared to this.
“Alright, Mr. Jones, you’re good to--oh, I’m sorry! Let me just leave this with you--”
Emma pulled away, grinning as the embarrassed nurse laid a handful of forms on the bedside table and then scurried out the door.
“That was a yes, by the way,” Emma said when they were again alone. “How about we go get that lunch you promised me before we scandalize any more nurses?”
Notes:
--Well there you have it! Mystery solved and happy endings all around.
--All that’s left is a fluffy epilogue in which a few surprise guests show up at an important event in Emma and Killian’s lives.
Next Chapter-->
#cssns21#captain swan supernatural summer#cs ghost story au#(although not really a ghost story)#my fanfiction#dead man's cell phone
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Prompt: we met each other while each doing the (separate) walk of shame after a night out with other people.
Just a continuous shoutout to @shireness-says for sending me the most random but best prompts and also for only judging how bad of a cook I am a little 😘
on ao3 | here | if that’s how you want to read!
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Emma doesn’t have rules about a lot of things in her life, but she has rules about this, about one-night stands.
Rule 1: They are always, always, always one night.
Rule 2: They never come back to her place.
Rule 3: She always gets up and leaves before they wake up, if she falls asleep there at all.
It’s not the nicest move in the world, but, well, Emma isn’t hanging around with these guys to be nice. She’s not there for the small talk, for the sink sharing as she brushes her teeth with a little toothpaste on her finger. She’s definitely not there for the breakfasts. She’s sure that they’re fine, that some of them are more than good, but, well, she doesn’t really care enough to get to know how the guy likes his eggs. The guy definitely doesn’t care how she takes hers. He probably just wants another fuck, and no matter how good the night before was, Emma doesn’t do more than one time.
Rule number one and all that.
And it’s not that she’s going around having one-time things all the time, and it’s not that there would be anything wrong with that if she was. But she’s been around the block enough times to know to come up with her rules.
Right now, she hates herself a little for falling asleep, but she’s become a tad bit rusty on this whole thing. It’s been awhile since she’s done this. She was with Walsh for a year, and, well, it took her awhile to need to scratch the itch after that ended. But last night…let’s just say she needed to last night, so she put on some mascara and a red lip, found a dress that was a little too tight and a little too low cut, and she went to a club for the first time in ages. She nearly texted Ruby and Mulan and asked them to come with her, but she chickened out at the last minute.
Emma Swan: catches bad guys for a living, chickens out asking her friends to go drinking and dancing with her.
The cold morning air nips at her legs and her shoulders, and she wraps her arms around herself as she dodges a sewer grate to keep her heel from getting caught. She’s nearly to her apartment door. She won’t freeze before then. Still, next time she’s remembering a jacket.
Emma speeds up when she’s a building away, especially as more people start leaving their apartments and heading for work or the gym or wherever else people go on Saturday mornings, and just as she’s reaching for the side door of her apartment building, someone else’s hand touches it first. She watches it, taking in the dark hair over the knuckles and up his forearm, and Emma’s eyes follow up his arm. He’s wearing a dark gray shirt that only has one or two buttons down at the bottom in order to show off an impressive amount of chest hair, and when she looks at his face, the first thing she notices is how messy his hair is and then the red pillow creases on his cheek.
Oh.
Emma blushes, but she doesn’t know why. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, especially since they’re both coming home from the same exact thing.
The man flashes a smile, bright white against the black of his slightly overgrown stubble, and pulls the door open before gesturing for her to move forward.
“After you, love.”
“Thanks,” Emma mumbles.
She ducks her head and walks inside the building, reveling in the heat that immediately comes down on her skin. She walks down the hallway, and the guy’s footsteps follow behind her. She gets into the elevator. He does too. If she didn’t slightly recognize him, her shoulders would tense and her nerves would stand on edge. She does recognize him, though, from around the building. She’s sure she’s seem him once or twice before.
“Cold out there this morning,” he whistles as his fingers begin to toy with his shirt, one more button closing, not that it helps.
“Yep.”
“Almost makes staying until they wake up worth it.”
“Or paying for a damn cab.”
He huffs and tilts his head back to scratch his jaw. That is an unfairly sharp jawline. “Killian Jones. Floor seven.”
“Emma.”
“No last name? Or floor number?”
“Oh Jones,” Emma sighs, twisting toward him. She crosses her arms under her bust despite knowing it will draw attention to her boobs, and sure enough, he glances down. “You’re going to have to watch me do the walk of shame a few more times before you get any of that.”
There’s that smile again. The door opens on his floor, and he steps through the opening but still places his hand on the door to keep it from closing. “It’s only a walk of shame if you’re ashamed of it. I prefer to think of it as a stride of pride. Or perhaps, just a very satisfied walk home.”
And then he’s gone, and the doors close behind him as Emma goes up one more floor.
-/-
“Well, you certainly look different.”
Emma’s shoulder’s tense, and slowly, she turns on her head to see what jackass is talking to her. It takes her a moment to recognize him, a moment of cold weather and tired eyes and the slightest bit of a hangover, but she rarely forgets a face. Or a man who displays that much chest in nearly freezing weather. Then again, she was doing the same. She notices he seems to be doing the same thing now while she’s got on a shirt that covers almost all of her.
“Yeah, well, I find flannel is much more comfortable than skin-tight sequins.”
She’s in her pajamas in the lobby of her building getting the mail. Yeah, most people are just now getting home from work and are in real clothes, but when you have the day off, there’s no reason to put on real pants.
“Oh, I agree. I can’t tell you how uncomfortable it is when I have to wear sequins, Swan.”
She fully turns. “I never told you my last name.”
Killian leans forward and taps on her mailbox where E. Swan is written. Just below it, there’s a K. Jones. Oh.
“If you’ll excuse me.”
Emma locks her box and steps to the side so Killian can get his mail. There are only two envelopes in there, and one of them is a slip to pick up a package from the front desk. Emma swears it’s the only reason they still have these mailboxes. She realizes she’s standing there staring at the back of his head and at the suit he’s wearing even though she has no reason to still be there. She needs to be back up in her apartment getting dressed to go to the gym since she’s neglected it all day today. She should have gotten up this morning and gotten it over with.
Idly, she wonders what he does for a living, but then she remembers she needs to go before she seems weird.
Weirder.
She’s definitely already weird.
-/-
He’s at her gym.
Granted, it’s literally the gym in the building next door to her where all of the residents go, but still. She’s never seen him in there before.
She also rarely goes at this time.
He’s running on the treadmill in a fitted shirt and pair of joggers, and she’s on the elliptical behind him, warming up before her Pilates class. Emma ducks her head and focuses on her music and her movement, trying not to draw his attention.
When he winks at her in the mirror, she knows she’s failed.
When she nearly falls over on the elliptical, she decides she’s going to have to move apartments.
(Not really. She’d never leave this place, not when it’s a damn good apartment.)
-/-
Emma hates doing honeytraps. They feel demeaning and a little sexist, but they work. She puts on a skintight dress, pushes her boobs up, combs out her hair, and she can get the guys she needs to pay her enough attention that she can easily handcuff them and bring them down to the closest precinct.
Tonight, it went fine. It took her longer to curl her hair than to get the guy to flirt with her at the bar, but on her walk back to her car from the precinct, someone drove by and splashed dirty water all over her. It was a good dress. She should have worn the cheaper one.
It’s long past midnight when she gets back to her apartment, and even though she looks like she’s the one who got arrested tonight, she walks through her lobby, nodding at the night guard, and then heads toward the elevator with her wet shoes in hand. It’s amazing that no one complains about her and gets her kicked out. There’s a group of women in this building who take pride in judging anyone who isn’t just like them, and Emma avoids them at all costs.
Who she can’t seem to avoid, however, is Killian Jones, because he comes sulking in the side door and gets in the elevator at the last moment, sticking his hand through the closing doors until they open back up just for him.
“We have to stop meeting here,” he teases.
“I believe last time we met at the gym.”
“Well, I’d say we’d have to stop meeting there as well, but I’m sure you had a grand time staring at my ass as I ran.”
“Are you always this conceited?”
“Confident.” Emma rolls her eyes as the elevator doors finally close. “Rub some detergent on your stain and then scrub it with a toothbrush before washing it. The stain should come out.”
Emma looks down at her outfit. It’s far beyond the point of repair, especially with a toothbrush. “Uh, thanks.”
“And maybe don’t sleep with a man who ruins your dress like that.”
“Oh, this is from work,” she laughs, adjusting her heels in her hands.
“What in the bloody hell do you do?”
“Bounty hunter, bail bonds, things like that. A little bit of everything. This,” she gestures to her dress, “was an accident from a reckless driver speeding outside the police station.”
“Just who are you, Swan?” Killian asks with a smirk and raised brows. She has a feeling he does that a lot.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He smiles at her teasing, leaning in that little bit closer to her, and she’s reminded of how small this space is. Emma wants to change the subject from herself, so she quickly asks, “aren’t you a little too overdressed to be coming home from your…stride of pride?”
He smiles and scratches behind his ear. “Coming home from the office, actually.”
“It’s one in the morning.”
The doors open again on his floor and he steps outside, holding his hand to the door. “Work never stops when your boss is an asshole who thinks contract negotiations cannot be handled during normal business hours. See you around, Swan.”
Emma waves and smiles as the doors close again.
-/-
Emma goes weeks without seeing him, and she nearly forgets about the man who keeps seeing her at slightly low points in her life. It all goes on. She goes to work, and since the scumbags are out in full force, she makes enough in a month to cover rent for six months. It feels damn good to be that secure in her life when half a decade ago she never would have been able to consider living in a nice place and knowing she could pay for it. She goes out with her friends, sometimes stays in since David and Mary Margaret are homebodies ever since they decided to try for a baby, which Emma knows way too much about – seriously, Mary Margaret shares details about the positions and tracking apps and womb temperatures, and it’s a great way to make sex seem unappealing – and things get back to normal as winter melts into spring and the miserable chill of Boston fades away.
But then she has a bad day.
“What do you even know about family?”
The words were spit at her as the man ran out of the restaurant in the same way that he’d run out on his family, and even though he’s now going to be held accountable for his actions, nothing about it sat right with Emma. How can you have a family and just leave them? Why do people keep doing that?
So instead of going home, she goes to a bar, ordering a drink and sitting in the corner as she watches other people drink and talk and, quite frankly, dance poorly. It’s entertaining if only because it keeps her mind off her own life, and then she sees him.
He’s in dark jeans and a button-down, black leather jacket still on, and even though he seems to be in a group of friends, Emma walks over to him, tapping him on the shoulder until he turns to look at her with a smirk and a raised brow.
Yep, he definitely does that move a lot.
“Fancy seeing you here, love.”
“I could say the same to you.”
The smirk widens to a smile, and he has ridiculously blue eyes. She didn’t even know that kind of blue was possible in such dark lighting.
“Swan, this is Rob, Will, and Eric. Mates, this is Emma. She lives in my building.”
They all mutter different versions of ‘nice to meet you’ and Emma returns the platitudes. Then Killian orders her another glass of wine while ordering himself some more rum, and instead of sitting alone all night, she sits with him.
And his friends. But she kind of forgets about them as she talks to Killian. He’s charming, funny too, and while she tends to think corporate lawyers must have had their soul sucked away at some point in their lives, she doesn’t think that about him.
She likes him.
It’s a weird feeling after going so long floundering around after Walsh, not sure that any man is capable of keeping her genuinely entertained for more than an hour, but it’s three hours later, and her jaw hurts from smiling. After earlier, she definitely didn’t think she was capable of smiling that much.
Or at all.
At some point, she tells Killian her guilty pleasure food is grilled cheese, as greasy as you can get, and they end up in a small diner with grilled cheese and cups of coffee in front of them. It’s damn good grilled cheese, and after she finishes chewing, she covers her mouth and laughs.
“What?” he asks with his mug in front of his lips.
“You really took me to get grilled cheese as if me liking it was a personality trait.”
His brows raise, little lines raising with them, and he takes another sip of his coffee. “I don’t know about you, but a night out drinking now isn’t the same as when I was twenty-two. You have to do the hangover prep beforehand.”
“Old man.”
He shrugs. “I imagine I’m not much older than you.”
“Yeah, but I can handle my alcohol better.”
“We’ll have to see about that another night.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
They leave the diner and the neon signs behind sometime around three in the morning, and when they get back to their apartment and into the elevator, Emma gets off on the sixth floor instead of the seventh.
-/-
Rule 3: She always gets up and leaves before they wake up, if she falls asleep there at all.
When Emma opens her eyes, she knows she’s failed herself.
The sun is shining through his curtains, indicating that it’s long past her normal escape hours, and even though the view outside is the same as her apartment, she knows that she isn’t in her apartment. Not even close.
Well, geographically speaking, no, she’s actually very close. She’s only one floor below. Her bedroom is right above this, and her bed is in the exact same place.
But her bed is empty, the covers still pulled up, and there isn’t a naked man in it.
Or a naked Emma.
Shit.
Killian’s hand is on her boob, his leg half-draped over hers, and slowly, she moves them both off. She has to go, to get out of her, but just as she’s moving him, he moves himself.
Closer. He moves closer.
“Hmmm, morning,” he hums, flicking his finger against her breast before moving it down over her side and to her hip. His hands are surprisingly calloused for someone who spends all day in an office, but she likes it. She remembers thinking that last night too. “Do you want breakfast? Or do you need to go? Either is fine with me.”
She’s almost offended he gives her choices, but then she realizes what he’s saying. He doesn’t care if she stays or goes, and that makes the ball of anxiety in Emma’s chest get smaller. Emma flips over to face him. His hair is a mess and a red mark is on his cheek. He sleepily grins.
“I need to go. This was great, but it was a one-time thing.”
He flips over on his back and crosses his arms behind his head. The comforter is pulled just low enough on his hips that she can see just enough to entice her to stay, but she doesn’t. She goes, getting dressed as he watches her before awkwardly saying goodbye.
“It’s a stride of pride,” he yells out, his accent thicker than usual, and Emma finds herself smiling as she closes the door behind her.
-/-
Rule 2: They never come back to her place.
Okay, so the thing about Killian living in the apartment below her is that he knows where she lives. And that’s fine. She’s pretty good at reading people, and she didn’t peg him as someone she needed to worry about. From their first meeting, she knows he’s comfortable with one-time things. He’s not going to be someone who tries for more, which is what she’s like.
But now he’s at her door, take-out bag in hand, saying he stopped by after work but decided he didn’t want the grease. Is there any chance she’d like it?
She would.
And despite the fact that she practically raised herself and didn’t exactly teach herself manners, she does have some. So she lets him in, offers him some coffee that he takes, and they sit and talk for awhile, about nothing and everything and all of the other things in between. It’s nice, and it’s not until he takes off his suit jacket and undoes the buttons on his shirt that she remembers that they slept together.
Several times in one night.
Because she’s, well, an idiot.
And now he’s at her place drinking her coffee while she eats food he brought her. It’s all a little too domestic for her, a little too comfortable, so instead of water, she grabs wine to dull her mind.
“You like wine?” Emma asks.
“Love it.”
“Good. Let’s drink.”
Killian chuckles. “Let me finish my coffee first, and then I’ll join you. Mind if we move to the living room?”
She absolutely minds. That’s a horrible, horrible idea.
“Not at all.”
-/-
Rule 1: They are always, always, always one night.
She messed up.
Big time.
Okay, so she’s messed up big time, multiple times.
Because Killian is asleep in her bed with only his boxers on, she’s wearing his shirt like some kind of movie cliché, and there’s a mark on her neck that’s going to require some makeup to hide.
Great. Just great.
It can’t get any worse.
-/-
She offers him breakfast.
He accepts and stays.
Shit.
-/-
Emma’s life is pretty unpredictable. From her job hours to her appetite to the outfits she’s going to wear. She likes it that way. It keeps her from getting bored or thinking too much. She likes not having a routine.
She likes it, and plans on keeping it that way.
But little by little she starts to notice a routine forming.
He’ll show up at her apartment with food. She’ll show up at his with nothing most of the time but sometimes a bottle of wine or rum, since she now knows that’s what he prefers. They talk, they laugh, maybe they watch a little TV, but it always, always, always ends up in the same place.
In bed.
Or on the couch. Once or twice in the kitchen even if that is the devil on her ass and her knees, but in the moment, she’s not thinking too much about that.
Or about how she’s broken every single one of her rules more than once. They are gone, out her window, and she doesn’t know how to get back to them.
Emma doesn’t think she wants to. She likes this arrangement. She’s got a friend and a fuck buddy all in one, and she doesn’t have to go out to find someone. There’s no lingerie or hour’s worth of makeup or heels that hurt her. It’s pajamas and whatever unmatched underwear she happens to have on that day. Killian doesn’t care, and she likes that.
She likes spending time with him.
That was not in the plan.
-/-
There’s a tap on her bedroom floor. Then another one. And another.
Emma picks up her phone.
ES: Are you hitting a broom against your ceiling?
KJ: Yes, come down here.
ES: You come up here.
KJ: No. I need to show you something.
ES: If it’s your dick, I’m not leaving my apartment. I’ve seen it.
KJ: And it’s very impressive, I know. But no, that’s not it.
Emma laughs and rolls off her bed, pulling on boots with her jean shorts and t-shirt. She looks ridiculous, but she doesn’t care. When Killian opens his apartment door, he glances down at her for a moment, but then he’s ushering her inside and shoving a stack of paper in her face.
“What’s this?” Emma asks.
“Read it,” he insists, bouncing on his feet.
Emma reads it, doesn’t understand what the hell any of it means, but there are two very clear words written at the bottom.
Junior Partner.
Holy shit.
“They’re making you partner?” Emma gasps, looking up at him. “Holy shit, Jones!”
“I know,” he laughs. “Who would have thought the arrogant, Navy-educated asshole would make Junior Partner at the ripe old age of thirty-five?”
“Hey, you’re only, like, a minor level asshole.” He rolls his eyes, and Emma drops the paper down before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Congratulations. You deserve it.”
“Oh, I definitely don’t, but if I’ve fooled them into it, I won’t correct them.”
Emma laughs and hugs him tighter as his hands move up and down her back, settling just above her ass. “Should we celebrate?”
“What are you thinking?”
“Go out? Or stay in and eat cake? Sex?”
“There’s a company party at my boss’s house if you’d like to come.”
“All for you?”
“No,” he laughs, kissing her forehead and patting her back once more. “For the fourth tomorrow, but it’s free booze and free food.”
“Then I’m there.”
-/-
Even with the free booze, free food, and ridiculously gigantic pool, Emma kind of regrets coming to this thing. She doesn’t know anyone but Killian, and every single person keeps calling her his girlfriend even when he corrects them.
Emma is definitely not his girlfriend.
But after awhile, there’s only so many times you can deny it, and Killian starts telling people different stories of how they met, making them more ridiculous as he goes along. She doesn’t know how this won’t backfire since he has to work with these people, but he assures her they all work in different departments. He never sees them, and they never see each other.
To one man, they met on a cruise. To another, it was in the buffet line at a shopping center. To someone in accounting, they met at a cooking class where Emma was just struggling so much that he had to come help her out.
She’s offended even if that’s totally what would have happened had she gone to a cooking class.
There are so many different stories and meetings that Emma can’t keep up, especially as she tries to remember names. Eventually she gives up and laughs along at how good of a liar and storyteller that Killian is. She could listen to him do this for hours.
And she does.
The sun starts to set, and they settle on a swing in the backyard, his arm around her shoulder as they sway back and forth. Her skin is sun-kissed, her eyes tired, and she hasn’t felt as content as she is right now in a long damn time.
“This was fun,” she tells Killian.
“Aye,” he agrees, kissing her temple and rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “Thank you for coming with me. I’m sure you had better plans than to come to this.”
“Not a one.”
He raises his brow. “No?”
“Nope. I can’t think of anything better than drinking free alcohol and lying to your coworkers about how we met. None of them know it was because both of us were coming home from one-night stands.”
“And that’s the most romantic one.”
Emma tilts her head back in laughter. “Ah, yes, the old ‘we met after fucking other people.’ A classic love story.”
Killian kicks at the ground to keep them swinging, and Emma pulls her legs up, curling them underneath her. “You know, Swan, that was the best one-night stand of my life.”
“She that good?”
“I don’t even remember her, but I remember running into you. You were, are, gorgeous, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Believe it or not, I do fancy you from time to time.”
Emma’s heart is doing something ridiculous, and she doesn’t think she can stop it.
“Is it all the orgasms?”
He laughs at her joke, but he pulls her closer, resting his cheek against her head as they keep moving. “Those are bloody fantastic, but I like other things about you too. I like doing things like this, talking, having a cuddle, watching my boss make an idiot of herself on her diving board. I’d like to do it more often.”
“Are you asking me out on a date?” She’s half-joking, but when she twists her head to look at Killian, she sees that he’s not.
Oh.
Oh.
“Aye, I am. If you’re amenable to that.”
Emma gulps to get air down in her lungs, and before she can think too much about it, she nods her head and leans up to kiss Killian in a way that she’s never really kissed him before – with no intention of it leading to something more than this, the two of them swaying on a swing wrapped around each other. “I would definitely be.”
“Good. Tomorrow?”
“I’m busy. Going out with a new guy. But maybe another time.”
She knows his eyes roll as he kisses her, and Emma could get used to this.
-/-
New rule: Never, ever, ever kiss anyone but Killian Jones ever again.
Emma thinks she can definitely stick to that rule.
#stride of pride#cs prompts#cs fic#cs ff#cs fanfic#captain swan fic#captain swan ff#captain swan fanfic#captain swan#shireness-says
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My Top 10 LGBT Couples for Once Upon a Time
2 Keep in mine this is my personal opinion and a majority of these will not be canon! So please enjoy let me know what you think and kicking at number 10
10 Ruby Slippers Aka Red/Ruby and Dorothy
I am starting the list with them because they are the first canon LGBT couple on Once Upon A Time but it is not higher because it took five seasons to get to this point and they were rushed, and we never saw them again and it was a huge queer bait on Adam and Eddie’s part. I do like it because Red has bi tendencies and Wizard of Oz has always had a big LGBT following. So making Dorothy a lesbian makes perfect sense. Still the writing was not good this was rushed and the LGBT community deserves better.
9 Alice and New Robin Hood
This couple is hire because we get to see them develop, in canon but again it took 7 seasons to get a gay couple that actually stays on OUAT but I can’t help but feel that they picked two random white women to put together just to pacify LGBT people and show that “See we can be diverse” when the writers couldn’t give Mulan an Asian bi woman a love interest or have her say the words “I am bisexual and I was in love with a woman named Aurora” (Yes I will always be salty over sleep warrior but that will come later in this post) I am thankful for the rep but at the same the writers shouldn’t have queer baited us.
8 Hooked Charming/David Nolan/Killian Jones
I don’t know why but these two could have been an interesting couple, Two very masuculine gay men and yes I am aware they are happy with their women but they could have been more interesting thatn Captian Swan and they have belieable chemistry not the most romantic but believable chemistry than Captian Swan and I would pick that any day!
7. Frozen Swan aka Elsa and Emma
I think that the females had pretty good chemistry and these two if Elsa would have have been arount longer would have made a great couple. Plus I think making Emma bi would make a lot of sense and Elsa is headcanoned as a lesbian so I think these two would make a great couple.
6. Dragon Queen Aka Malicifient and Regina
These an evil Lesbian Couple who have soft spots for thier children and they would be totally bad ass together. I am not big on Swan Queen but they makes sense however I love the idea of the Evil Queen and the Malicificent getting together and just reaking havoc! So yeah Evil Girl Power!
5.Brave Warrior Merida and Mulan
I have a thing for badass warrior women! They could train together go on missions and be a great couple! All though I will Say Merida in her own movie is not that likable but she is fine in OUAT! Mulan and Merida would be unstoppable duo. I also think it would have been a great plot twist if Merrida either turned out to be a lesbian or ace! I also just think Mulan just desrves a happy ending.
4.Mulan Rouge aka Red/Rbby and Mulan
These two had really good chemistry and I just think that they would have made a great couple, Mulan can have a happy ending and they would have been more believable than Ruby Slippers or even the previous ship I just mentioned. Plus it would give Mulan a happy ending and the love she desrves and I think her and Ruby would work really well!
Ariel and Jasmine
These girls both have a knack for wanting to explore the world, both land and sea. I can see them being a wonder lesbian couple despite it being long distance since one live in water and the other lives on land and I also love the idea of Jasmine as a mermaid!
2 Red Beauty Aka the Superior Beauty and The Beast! Ruby/Red and Belle
Beauty and the Beast with a LGBT twist! Belle means Beauty litterally and Ruby is a werewolf so how could this not be perfect? It would give good represenation in my opinion the community, it would better thatn Lefou as the LGBT rep and it would get Belle away from Rumple. I also enjoy this couple because of Belle wanted to be there for Ruby but Ruby was afraid of hurting Belle. Plus Ruby also visted Bell in the Pshych ward and they could help each other. It would still be Beuaty and the Beast just without kidnapping of fathers and without all that abusive stuff that comes with Rumbelle!
Now for #1 Sleeping Warrior aka Aurora and Mulan!
This ship had so much potential only for it to be ruined by hetronormative bullshit! The writing was great it felt so natural for these two get together! I mean they go on a long adventure together, Aurora literally gets her heart stolen by Cora and Mulan is the one to put it back for her. They also had such great chemistry and a great build up and then Aurora gets pregnat with Philip’s baby and Mulan doesn’t get her happy ending. I hate how much potential and organic chemistry these two had only for it to be ruined. With how these two were written if one half of Sleeping Warriror had been a guy they would have been a couple but nope! They could have a thruple polygamy if they wanted Philip in the thing. Forgive its been a while I have watched OUAT but Sleeping Warrior will always be the First LGBT ship I shipped on Once Upon a Time
#queer baiting#lgbt#sleeping warrior#redbeauty#ariel & jasmine#mulan rouge#brave warrior#dragon queen#hooked charming#wonder archer#ruby slippers#lesbians#bisexuals#gays#once upon a time#anti once upon a time#anti adam & eddie
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sending you love because i can and because you deserve it. you are one of my favourite people to see on the dash and chat to on discord. you are honestly so incredible as a person and a writer. the amount of compassion you have for people blows me away constantly , your patience too and your dedication to your writing is absolutely stunning. your hook is hook in my eyes. i admire how long you've been writing him , lucas. the amount of love that has gone into your portrayal , the years you have spent carving out your version of killian jones. also can we quickly talk about the love you have for your animals bc that constantly warms my heart. you go above and beyond to make sure they are safe , healthy and fed. i love seeing your posts about your horses , and i am sending them and you and amy all my love. you're amazing , as a person as a writer as a pet owner. never forget that <3 i am very glad i get to call you friend <3
okay issac so, I've been hoarding this for quite a while i think. For two reasons really. 1) It was nice to just see when I scrolled aimlessly through my inbox and 2) I couldn't find the words to accurately describe what it meant to me, what you mean to me. I wanted to hang onto it forever BUT we all know my relationship with tumblr and the way i somehow manage to fuck with it on a daily basis, so I'd rather have it here on my blog where I know it's saved and I can always find it again. It's so easy to lose yourself into external stuff that wants to bring you down, especially in today's world and it's messages like this can literally make someone's day/week/month/year a bit more bearable. So thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you said and it means a lot .. because I know you and I know you mean it.
So let's get to the bit where i want to talk about you. I don't remember when we met or how we started talking (serioisly the last half of 2019 and the entirety of 2020 is such a blur for me lmao) but I do know it was through your wonderful portrayal of ezio. We just clicked and it was like 'what is plotting??' and just threw random memes together and it ended up becoming a thing and making sense and suddenly there was a plot, we just hadn't hashed it out haha. And then of course there was Cesare which is a blast because he ties into Ezio and those adventures. And then there was .. James. I have been writing Killian for 8 years and I can count on one hand (ha, i crack myself up) the number of times he's hit it off with another male muse to the point where they become friends, even if killian still is insufferable lmao (Guy doesnt count. that's a whole other level) and James and Killian just clicked. Which can I just take a moment to tell you that I love your Bond. I've always been so damn picky about him (I think i've known one other person i interacted with who wrote him and that was from years ago) because I love the character so much. I tried to add him to my original multi and wrote like two things and went oof no lucas don't. So seeing him brought to life in such a wonderful way is a true gift.
And of course now we have Killian and Sasha which is so funny because once again it started with crack stuff (can i do anything serious, ever?) and they've sort of reached this weird place in their relationship where it's like 'are we allies? are we friends? is the darkling .5 seconds away from murdering me?' and even if the friendship doesn't work .. they can always stop by and borrow one another's clothes. You have an ability to write characters in a way that inspires me to learn about their media. The only reason I know anything about shadow and bone and have even given it a second thought is because of your blog. You were my first experience with it and then suddenly other mutuals started making characters too so i was like 'oh okay, thanks to issac i can go with this'. I love him, I love you.
Alright so we're over the muse thing so I can now talk about you. Do you know how wonderful you are? As a writer, yes - but writing is something that can be taught, that can be honed and developed .. personality often can't be. Not past a certain extent. The depth of your feelings for others and the way you tackle life with grace and determination is truly inspiring. I don't remember awkward conversations between us ever. We just sort of slammed into discord and immediately started talking and its great because we both have a tendency to disappear out of conversations because we space and then we come back like oh hey let me continue this convo .. and neither one of us even blink because we get it. You are uplifting, you're funny, you've opened my eyes to so many things I never would have known about had it not been for you. You helped me, answered my questions and offered so much support when I was figuring this journey out. I'm pretty sure other than amy that you were one of the first people I ever broached the subject with and you were great. We have so many things in common as far as trials and such we've faced and sometimes there's just a breath of fresh air in having someone who gets it because they've been there too. I absolutely treasure you as a friend and you're literally stuck with me forever. I hope you know I will always be here for you and I will fight in your corner for everything you ever need. And so will amy, which - she's the bigger threat here despite people who think otherwise haha.
In short, now that I'm done with my novella of love, I want you to know you are important and you matter. The world would be missing a huge piece without you in it and so would my life. I love and adore you, mate !! I'm tagging your main blog because i know you're not on this one anymore (frequently, i should say) <3 @aleksling
#save ;#i literally puked words on the page but#they came from my heart and i needed you to know how special and important you are <3#i am blESSED to know you. blessed i say.
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New Cyre
On the Day of Mourning (20 Olarune, 994 YK), millions died. Not just the Cyrans, but the Karrnathi and the Brelish. The invading armies were caught mid-battle across the nation by some force or spell or curse that wiped them out (or worse). If anyone survived with their minds intact inside the literally mystifying fog, there has been no sign.
Nor has there been any sign of dissipation by the fog that fills the nation to its literal borders. Who’s watching (other than the continent’s remaining pre-eminent wizards and probably some dragons and Lords of Dust)? The residents of New Cyre.
While over a million of their fellow citizens died on the Day of Mourning, a lot of Cyrans had been out of the country. The wealthy. The trip-takers. The ambassadors. And in the case of Crown Prince Oargev ir’Wynarn, all three at once. His wife was in Cyre at the time of the Mourning. So was his mother, the queen. When he stepped in to lead the straggling refugees gathering in Breland on the border of the Mournland, it was as a broken man.
But the last four years have hardened him. Oargev used his gifted diplomatic nature to convince King Boranel to let him turn a temporary refugee camp into a semi-permanent displaced capital city. (That’s not how he pitched it, of course, but that’s the reality of it.)
It’s no longer tents and shelters; it’s buildings with foundations, irrigation systems for crops, community events, schools accepting applicants from across Khorvaire, focused training camps for defense...
Or maybe it’s recruiting, radicalizing, and arming secessionists. It depends on the day and who’s reporting on it.
In 998 YK, the Brelish Parliament introduced a resolution to limit the population of New Cyre to 20,000 people (a number it is rapidly approaching). Any more than that, and it would stop being a nice thing the King had done for some poor unfortunate souls and start being an occupation force. Obviously, the population of New Cyre disagrees with this stance, but unless they get a vote, the best they can hope for is either 1) Prince Oargev charms enough members of Parliament into voting down the resolution or 2) the Mournland magically unfogs and lets them go home.
Or maybe 3) they recruit, radicalize, and arm a liberation front to claim this land as their own sovereign soil. Again, it depends on the day.
Right now, the government of New Cyre is the Mayor’s Council (it’s totally only a town after all).
Positions:
Mayor: Prince Oargev ir’Wynarn
___Deputy Mayor: Minaera d’Thuranni
Watch Captain: Killian d’Medani
___Watch Deputy: Yara d’Deneith
Head of Transport: Seneca d’Orien
___Deputy of Transport: Wrill Aerin d’Lyrandar
Head of Community: Goldenrod d’Jorasco
___Deputy of Community: Peregrine d’Cannith
Head of Outreach: Thespi d’Ghallanda
___Deputy of Outreach: Taen d’Phiarlan
Head of Treasury: Doctor Sef d’Sivis
___Deputy of Treasury: Annaka d’Kundarak
Head of Resource Development: Utin d’Tharashk
___Deputy of Resource Development: Marnie d’Vadalis
That last category...hmm. The Marks of Finding and Handling, developing resources? Sure, at least on the the surface. It is odd, however, that their job responsibilities on paper seem to be almost fully overlapping with their fellow councilmembers. They’re also never available during the day, and they do not attend official Council meetings unless their Houses are needed for optics.
But I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.
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My Hands, Your Hands- Part 2/2
Part 1
Read on AO3
Emma wakes up feeling grateful for Advil. She wonders what her head would feel like without it, considering the headache she’s sporting now.
Rolling over slowly and noisily, she smells bacon and considers whether she’s going to eat some or be sick. The smell effectively pulls her head from the pillow and she makes her way to being vertical, despite the throbbing pain that radiated from the base of her skull. She finds a sweatshirt while simultaneously barely opening her eyes and scurries to the bathroom where it was decided that she was indeed going to be sick. She could make some definitive statement about never drinking rum and coke again, but she knows that’s foolish, as she’ll be in the same state next weekend.
Problematic? Maybe. For a 29-year-old? Definitely.
Once her teeth are brushed, she’s able to shower the sweat and regret from her body, cranking the water as hot as it will go as memories from last night flood her mind. Most noteworthy would probably be the fact that she and Walsh broke up, although that was less than surprising and not at all upsetting. The more she thought about him, the more she knew that she was only with him because she felt like she had to be. She didn’t want to be his girlfriend because all of her relationships end badly.
So, when he came over expecting her to need him, and became upset when she didn’t, she knew it was time. She may not have gone at him the way that she did if she hadn’t been drunk and full of feelings of rejection, but what’s done is done.
More memories assault her as she thinks back to being rejected, how that felt, and the nature of why she was rejected. She and Killian were ordered behind the Iron Curtain, and while she suggested that they casually get the kiss over with, he felt entirely differently. I really don’t want to kiss you like this.
Of course, more memories come to her as she picks up her purple shampoo. Killian has always been sweet to her, and she’s always seen him as her brother’s best friend, but she has to face the fact that he is insanely good looking. He’s got those icy blue eyes that rival the color and depth of the ocean, contrasting with his dark hair and fair skin. The way he smirks, all the damn time, literally drives her insane, and whenever he does that stupid thing where he pinches his bottom lip between his right thumb and forefinger, she wonders what it would be like to bite down on it.
She may be attracted to Killian, but he’s always been her brother’s best friend. Sometimes she thinks of him as her friend, too. Like when he makes her coffee in the morning, exactly as she likes it. Or when he drives her to work when it’s raining so she doesn’t have to walk. Or when he goes on runs with her in the park, claiming that he wants to be there to keep her safe from killer waterfowl.
(That last one is a joke. He wants to be there to make fun of her in case another swan decides to attack her so that he can relive his favorite memory. He’s told her this several times.)
The truth is, he’s never been anything less than sweet to her, and to have him reject her drunken-self last night must’ve really done a number on her ego. And now, when she thinks back to what he said in the kitchen, she just feels as though he was taking pity on her because of how pathetic she was being. What I mean is, if I were to kiss you, I’d want it to be more special than it would have been behind the Iron Curtain.
Was he serious? Considering this was daring. Accepting that he was serious about this and genuinely wanted their first kiss to be special will be detrimental to Emma’s ability to pretend that she doesn’t find him insanely attractive. This takes her feelings beyond physical attraction and into crush territory. AKA, serious danger.
Imagine having a crush on your roommate? Yikes.
But a crush on your older brother’s best friend, who also happens to be your roommate? Double yikes.
As Emma makes her way back into her bedroom, the smell of bacon blitzes her again and she feels just how empty her stomach is now. Once she smells the cocoa and French toast, though, the grumbling coming from her can likely be heard throughout the loft.
“Swan?” Killian calls, confirming her theory that her hunger is evident to all. She hears his footsteps coming towards her as he calls to her again: “do you want some breakfast, love?”
Well, here we go. “Only if you’re making it right,” she grumbles with a roll to her eyes.
“Bacon extra crispy, French toast with cinnamon, but not too much, extra butter, cocoa with cinnamon and whipped cream. You think by now I don’t know your hangover food, Swan?”
She tightens her robe around her middle as she takes in the sight of him; black t-shirt and checked gray pajama pants hugging his muscles perfectly. She nods and offers him a small smile as she says, “so you know how to get me drunk and how to cure me the next day, huh?”
He smiles back at her, blue eyes twinkling impossibly. “Aye, that’s right, Swan. Now get dressed and get out here before this gets cold and all my hard work goes in the bin.”
“We don’t call it a bin here, Jones. Honestly, you’ve lived in American for how many hundreds of years now?”
He breathes out a scoff. “Just get dressed, woman. I won’t have you in a robe distracting me from my breakfast.”
She rolls her eyes but listens to him and steps back into her room. Her cheeks are hot and she knows she’s blushing, and hopefully she can blame it on the hot shower. She picks out a new pair of underwear and leggings and a clean sweatshirt, choosing not to utilize a boob prison today. Her boobs deserve the Sunday off.
When she gets out to the kitchen, the table is set and her plate is full of bacon and French toast, her favorite mug filled to the top with delicious, perfectly prepared cocoa. She grins, unable to stop the blush from hitting her cheeks again. “Looks great,” she says, not bothering to turn her attention to him as she makes her way to her usual seat across from hers.
“I hope so, it took me all damn morning. Honestly, you couldn’t have chosen a hangover food that’s easier to make? French toast has to be the most tedious breakfast.”
“And yet I seem to be eating it every Sunday now,” she says, finally looking in his direction and smirking.
“Aye, well, I figure it’s easier to fill you up with eggy bread now than it would be to listen to you complain for the rest of the day.”
Her face scrunches up as she takes a sip of her coffee. “Ugh, do you have to call it that? Again, you’ve lived here for centuries. Just call it French toast.”
He chuckles as he shoves a strip of crispy bacon in his mouth, choosing talking over manners as he says, “eight years, love. I’m really not that old, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” she says with a nod as she takes a bite of bacon herself. “But David’s an old man and you’re his friend. Also, the way you complain about your muscles being sore after you run just makes you sound like you’re 200.”
“Well, I can assure you I am not 200. I’m actually a few years younger than David, thank you very much.”
“Still older than me,” she says with a shrug. He breathes out a laugh and shakes his head, turning his attention back to his breakfast. Then, before she can stop him, she sees him scooping a spoon full of cubed watermelon onto her plate. “Hey, no healthy food allowed.”
“Healthy food is exactly what you need right now, Swan. What did you have for dinner besides the popcorn you threw all over the living room? You’re welcome, by the way, for vacuuming that up for you,” he says sarcastically and with a smirk playing at his lips.
“My hero,” she says with eyes rolling to the back of her head. She wonders briefly if rolling her eyes is a defense mechanism so that she doesn’t have to look at him when his face does that…
“It’s fresh, love. The best money can buy for my Swan. Eat up.” My Swan, she’s swooning.
“Where is everyone,” she wonders as she takes a bite of watermelon. And he’s right, it’s fresh as hell. Shit, it’s delicious.
“David went to church with Mary Margaret, Will hasn’t been home yet. I’m pretty sure Ruby slept on the couch, but she was gone when I woke up.”
“Where did Will go?”
“Home with Sabine.” His mouth is full, and it shouldn’t be hot, but it is.
“Whoa, really? I didn’t even notice they left last night.”
He smirks again, “I’d wager you didn’t notice much, love. You were completely obliterated. Five drinks was all it took, I suppose.”
“Hey,” she whines, “I’m pretty small! Five drinks is a lot, especially when you're the one making them. You put so much damn rum in them, I swear you were a pirate in a past life.”
He hums, “maybe I was. At any rate, you were absolutely smashed. Do you remember much?” Is he testing her memories? Does he wonder if she remembers everything that happened last night? Does he hope she doesn’t?
“Pretty sure I remember everything, although I suppose I wouldn’t know if I didn’t.”
“Ah, so you remember how desperately you wanted to kiss me then,” he says as she chokes on a sip of coffee.
She’s coughing so hard now that she can hardly respond. “I did not want to kiss you, I wanted to win the game.”
“Winning the game isn’t a real thing, Swan. The winner is the person who makes it to the end, who also happens to be the one to drink the most. I’d say based on how you seem to feel this morning, you don’t actually want to be the winner.”
“I’m very competitive,” she says. She wipes her mouth with her napkin and drops it to her now empty plate.
“Aye, love, I know,” he says with a chuckle as he does the same and stands, taking her plate from her and stacking it on top of his own.
“I guess I did kind of ruin the game, though, didn’t I? What with Walsh and everything,” she trails off, standing from the chair and making her way to where he was standing at the sink and lifting herself up onto the counter.
“The game didn’t matter at that point, Emma,” he surprises her again by using her name, which he really only does when he’s being serious. “I’m sorry.”
She draws her eyebrows together and says, “sorry? For what?”
“For everything,” he responds, tapping her legs out of the way so that he can open the dishwasher and place their dirty plates inside before he starts on the pans he used to make breakfast. “I shouldn’t have hit him. It was childish, but when he said that to you… I couldn’t stop myself. I could barely even see straight.”
Right. She knew Walsh had come over and embarrassed her, but she forgot all of the details until now. He called her a slut and before he could step out the door, David grabbed him and Killian swung his fist into Walsh’s jaw.
“It’s okay,” she nearly whispers. She allows herself to glace at his right hand and see the bruises that formed on his knuckles. “Did you ice it?”
“Aye,” he chuckles softly, “you practically forced me to. You were very adamant that I take care of my one good hand,” he says as he smirks up at her. She feels her chest and cheeks go red again.
“I did not say that.” Her voice comes out as weak and small as she feels.
“Oh, you did. Then you practically started crying,” he smirks again as she drops her head into her hands.
“No,” she groans. “This is mortifying. I’m so sorry, I’m sure I didn’t mean it.”
“You told me that you didn’t mean it in a bad way.” She lifts her head slightly and allows herself a glance at his left hand now. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Swan. I know you weren’t trying to be offensive. I didn’t mean to make you feel badly about it.”
“I wasn’t, I’m not. I’m sorry, Killian,” she raises her eyes to meet his, perhaps for the first time that morning.
He surprises her by meeting her gaze and smiling softly, his right hand coming up to pull hers away from her face and then touching her cheek so lightly that she thinks she may have made it up. Her breathing quickens as he says, “it’s alright, love. Thanks for looking out for me.”
Instead of choking over her own breath like she thinks she might, she says, “I don’t ever want to make you feel like I’m treating you differently, you know?”
“Aye,” he breathes out, his words barely over a whisper, his hand falling to hers atop her knee. “You never do.”
Just as she thinks he may close the gap between them and take her lips between his, the front door swings open and her older brother walks in, Mary Margaret following closely behind him.
Killian backs up so fast that Emma nearly loses her balance and falls off the counter, straight into the dishwasher. With a clang, Killian steps forward to steady her and hits his ankle against the door, hissing and cursing.
“Uh oh,” Emma says as she jumps down to his aid.
“Shit, I’m fine, it’s fine.” He groans lightly as he rubs his ankle, and it shouldn’t be hot, but it is. Dammit.
“Hey, you’re up. How was breakfa- are you okay?” David walks in to see Killian hunched over and Emma standing awkwardly, hands out as if she’s trying to will the pain away with magic or something.
“Fine mate. Just walked into the dishwasher.” Emma smiles lightly now, realizing how silly this whole situation was. Rather than focus on the fact that she was sure Killian was about to kiss her, she chooses to focus on how dumb they must look to David and Mary Margaret. She would much rather focus on that than on the fact that her crush, which she didn’t know she had until very recently, may actually be reciprocated.
~~~
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she groans into her pillow as she flops down face first into her bed.
“Me either, if I were you, I’d stop trying to fight it.” Emma lifts her head to glare at Ruby, who sits down on the other end of the bed and flops over as well.
“Of course, I’m fighting it. He’s David’s best friend! That’s insane. Not to mention the fact that he literally lives across the hall from me.”
“Definitely insane, but most likely worth it, girl. Honestly, I thought you guys were already… you know. I’m more surprised that you aren’t.”
“What could possibly make you think that?”
Ruby rolls her eyes and smirks, “Emma, come on. A blind man could see the way he looks at you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s completely in love with you. And you’re not so good at hiding it either, my friend. I’ve never seen someone blush as hard as you did last night.”
Emma sits up, unable to remain still. “So, what do I do?”
Ruby smirks again and says, “Killian,” waggling her eyebrows up and down and giggling. Emma groans again.
“No way! Besides, he’s still getting over Milah.”
“Please! It’s been almost a year since that happened! You don’t seriously think he’s still hung up over her, do you?”
“Well, yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him take a girl home, and he never sleeps out. Obviously, he still loves her and he isn’t over her. First heartbreak and all that.”
Ruby’s mouth is agape and her eyes bug out of her head. “Emma, seriously? Tell me you’re kidding right now. He hasn’t hooked up with anyone because he wants you, not because he can’t get over his ex!”
Emma ponders this briefly. It’s true, she hasn’t known him to be with anyone in months. She doesn’t think he has since she moved in nine months ago, but that couldn’t be right. Emma knew Killian as her brother’s friend before they became roommates, and she always thought of him as a lady’s man, even when he was with Milah. But Ruby’s theory, that he hasn’t been with anyone because he wants to be with her, is almost too much for her.
“Look, before last night, I had no idea I even felt this way. He’s always just been David’s hot friend. This is a lot.”
“Yeah,” she nods, “I know it is, but don’t you owe it to yourself? You’ve really been striking out lately.”
“Thank you so much for that reminder, friend.” She rolls her eyes again.
“I’m just saying, your first boyfriend died and that was tragic. Then it was Neal, and that was tragic in a completely different way. Now Walsh? The guy was a total douche!” She’s right. “Your track record is not good. I wanna see you happy, Emma. You’re my best friend and I want what’s best for you. And I just think… maybe that’s Killian.” Emma throws her head down into her pillow again and groans loudly. “Hey, come on. At least wait until I’m gone before you start picturing-” Emma hits her with a throw pillow. “I mean seriously, if you don’t I will. Even with one working hand I bet he could make a girl-”
“Ruby! Leave him alone!”
“Sorry, sorry! But seriously, how did that happen?”
“You're being insensitive,” Emma says accusatorily.
“I’m just curious, I know he told you. He’s barely told anyone what happened, but he told you, so there’s that.”
“There was an accident when he was in the Navy. Something to do with his Captain, I think. His arm and hand got tied up and crushed. Nerve damage.” Ruby cringes. It is a horrible story, and it must’ve been a horrible accident. Killian’s lucky to have a hand anymore, even it if it just for aesthetic purposes. His arm is so damaged it barely works, and Emma often finds herself wondering what his recovery process was like all those years ago- not that he ever talks about it. “Don’t let him know you know. I don’t even think he meant to tell me, I’m sure he wouldn’t want me going around telling people.”
“So, what you’re saying is, his love for you is so strong that-” Emma hits her with another throw pillow. “Alright, alright. I’m gonna go, okay? I’ve gotta get to work. I’m lucky I got out of the breakfast shift but now I have to do dinner.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks for the pep talk.”
“I expect a full report, got it?”
~~~
“Care for a movie tonight, Swan?”
Emma’s dragged from her thoughts as she pretends to scroll through her Instagram feed when she hears Killian’s voice from across the room. He’s standing near the curtain on the outside of the living room donning another black Henley and gray joggers. Of course the bastard was wearing gray sweatpants.
It’s absolutely pouring outside, and if she’s being honest with herself, there’s nothing she’d like more than to curl up on the couch and watch a good movie. Maybe have a good snuggle… She clears her throat and rolls her eyes. “Fine, as long as you make the popcorn.”
“Is that why you threw it all over the place last night? Because I didn’t make it? It must not have been very good.”
“I told you what happened, and it had nothing to do with you, Jones.”
“Actually, I don’t think you did say what happened,” he said as he made his way into the kitchen and took out his infamous air popper and some butter.
“Oh,” she stood from the couch and followed him, grabbing two glasses and filling them with ice. “Well, I was leaving Walsh a voicemail and the pipes made a sound, so I jumped. Not really that big of a deal. I didn’t even scream like he said I did,” she fibs.
He chuckles and says, “I suppose he was behaving rather dramatically, wasn’t he?”
“That’s for sure,” she grumbles with an eye roll. She fills the glasses with water and adds lime to hers, then makes for a lemon to add to his when he stops her.
“I’ll just take a lime as well, Swan.”
“You hate lime, what do you mean?”
“Well, as one of my good friends has been reminding me constantly, they're really not that different. I suppose lime has grown on me, over time.”
“I’m your friend?”
“I didn’t mean you, Swan,” he deadpans.
She narrows her eyes and draws her brows close together. “Okay, weirdo. What are we gonna watch?”
He smiles as he takes the popcorn bowl with him into the living room and plops down on the couch. She places the glasses down on the coffee table and sits next to him so that he’s sitting on her left side, just as he always is.
“Don’t you want to watch Dirty Dancing?”
She’s stunned into silence. Of course this man, this perfect specimen of a human, would offer to watch her breakup movie with her without prompting. Of course he would think of that, even when she didn’t.
“Oh, um, I don’t know, I don’t really know if I need to.”
“No? Not even after Walsh?” He seems even closer now, and she wonders how it’s even possible for someone to smell as good as he does right now.
“I mean, that wasn’t really a breakup. I guess it was, but… I guess I’m not that upset about it.”
His voice is so soft and gentle. His hand touches her left knee and he smiles at her before saying, “that’s great, Swan. It would be a pity to see you upset over such an animal of a man.”
She’s still stunned, still silent as she nods back at him. Before she can stop and think, she thinks she’s leaning in closer to him and she thinks she doesn’t mind it, not one bit.
After some time, once he’s put on an episode of The Office and they’ve settled themselves into the couch and eaten their fair share of popcorn, she speaks up. “I guess I’m more upset about what he said to me than anything,” she nearly whispers.
He hums softly and she can see his throat moving as he does, and shit it’s sexy. “That was rather upsetting, although I suppose we already know how I was feeling about it, don’t we,” he says with a soft grin, his eyes crinkling; she literally almost combusts as she nods, completely breathless.
“Yeah, I guess so,” she breathes. She nearly feels her lashes fluttering as he moves impossibly closer. She can practically feel her lips buzzing with how much she wants him to close the space between them and take hers between his. There’s a coil heating in her belly as she looks as his stubble covered face and feels his fingers delicately touching her knee.
“You know during the game, when I said I didn’t want to kiss you like that?”
She can’t breathe, so she nods in response. Before she can think, she sees his eyes fluttering so that they're almost closed as he moves so close to her that if she moved at all they would be touching. Then she watches as he grins beautifully, then his face closes the gap before hers and he presses his lips to hers so delicately that she could barely feel it.
Her eyes close effortlessly and within seconds as he kisses her softly then draws away far too quickly. Her eyes fly open again and she looks at him as if to say what the hell, come back. He listens as he presses himself to her more firmly, pursing his lips into hers and reaching his hand up from her knee to her cheek. She breathes into him and reaches her own hand into the back of his hair, feeling the softness between her fingers and the heat growing hotter in her belly. She can feel his tongue softly swiping between her top and bottom lips, as if asking permission to kiss her more deeply, so she parts her lips ever so slightly in invitation. She feels him suck on her top lip lightly before he licks it softly and she nearly loses it. His hand laces it's way behind her ear and into her hair as she tugs on his lightly before she hears him groan into her mouth, igniting her from the inside out.
She bites down lightly on his bottom lip and feels him stir in his seat as he leans closer to her, pushing softly until she’s laying down on the couch and he’s on top of her and kissing down her neck. She thinks she hears the popcorn bowl hit the floor, spilling whatever was left, but she can’t be assed to care. Her legs part as he fits himself between them, drawing their bodies even closer together, but somehow not close enough. She thinks he may have bruised her neck slightly, but she doesn’t care. She just keeps carding one hand through his soft hair as the other feels his muscles rippling through his shirt at his back, his chest, his triceps. He meets her mouth with his again and kisses her hard, as if he needs her like she needs him. She’s certain he does, based on the firmness she feels pressing against her upper thigh, and she’s tempted to rut her hips up towards his, but stops herself, reveling in his mouth on hers.
Moments later, they separate and their foreheads touch, his hand coming to her face and his thumb stroking her chin as he smiles breathlessly at her and she smiles breathlessly at him. His lashes flutter once more and he softly touches her cheek before drawing her to him once more, kissing her with a passion that she’s sure she’s never felt before.
When he finally pulls away, she’s gasping for breath, barely able to open her eyes. She thinks she may be dreaming, or dead, until he says, “I meant something more like that.”
She breathes out in a whoosh before saying, “holy shit,” embarrassment immediately taking over as she laughs lightly.
He laughs hard, and she can feel his chest vibrating against hers and she thinks it might be killing her. “Aye, my thoughts exactly.”
“I guess I can see why you rejected me, then,” she breathes out, reaching her hand to touch her own mouth, as if checking to see if it’s still there.
“I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings too much, love. I really wanted to kiss you, I have for a while, but I wanted you to remember it happening afterwards. I also didn’t really know if you were sober enough to actually consent last night,” he laughs. She pushes her forehead up to his and laughs with him some more.
“Probably not.” Who the hell thinks like that? Is that a symptom of adulthood? Emma thinks she should probably stop dating children if that’s the case.
He pecks her lips once more with his and she’s tempted to grab him and pull him back to her, but she doesn’t. Not this time.
“A while, huh?” she asks, and his brows raise as if he didn’t even realize he said that.
“Aye, I suppose so.” He lifts himself off of her and grabs a throw pillow before taking her hand in his and hoisting her back into a seated position herself. “I don’t really know if I should have done that. But I’ve wanted to kiss you basically since I met you and when you said you weren’t upset about Walsh… I guess I just…” He trails off and looks away from her, down at his hands.
“I wasn’t. I’m not. I was going to end it soon anyway.”
“Aye, you said that last night.”
“It’s true.” He looks back at her, finally, and smiles. It’s her favorite smile of his; the one where he grins with all of his teeth and his eyes scrunch up, but it softens after a second. It’s got to be the cutest and sexiest thing she’s ever seen. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Aye, of course,” he says, drawing his dark brows together as he does when he’s concerned, as if he’s worried about what she’s going to ask him.
“Why didn’t you bring anyone home last night? You said you wanted to, and that girl seemed more interested in you than in Will, but you didn’t go for it. How come?”
He’s quiet for a moment, glancing down from her eyes to the mess of popcorn on the floor, before he responds, “I didn’t really want to. I haven’t had a very keen interest in quite some time. I don’t know why I said that to you last night, honestly.”
She hums in response, then thinks back to what Ruby said. “So, when was the last time you… you know…” she trails off, realizing very quickly that this wasn’t really an appropriate line of questioning for her best friend whom she’s kissed one time.
“Such an interest in my sex life, aye Swan?” he smirks, finally looking at her again. She smiles back sheepishly, no doubt turning a very bright shade of pink. “It’s been a while, that’s for sure. One time with Milah just before you moved in, and then a drunken Halloween night with a girl dressed as Tinkerbell.”
She rolls her eyes at the thought of him hooking up with Tinkerbell and not knowing her actual name, then says, “you and Milah hooked up after she broke up with you?”
“Aye, a lapse in judgement, I suppose.”
She nods, understanding completely. There was a point after her breakup with Neal when she considered going back to him, although she luckily had a change of heart after a very loud conversation with Ruby.
“Can I tell you something, Emma,” he says so softly that it’s almost a whisper, but she can still hear the deep timbre of his voice.
“Yes,” she whispers back.
He’s breathing heavily, his forehead is close to hers and his hand is back on her knee. “I’ve had a massive crush on you since you moved in. Since we met, really, but I think when you moved in and I saw you crying on the couch while you sang along to the ending of Dirty Dancing, I was done for. And you're my best friend and I don’t wanna put any pressure on you, but I want you to know… how I feel.”
Emma hasn’t breathed for several moments, and this didn’t change anything. “I’ve had a crush on you since, like… last night, I think,” she says, smirking.
He laughs again and she sees an evil glint in his eyes before he wraps his right arm around her waist, pulling her up onto his lap and tickling her mercilessly as she laughs loudly, likely drawing attention from her roommates.
“You are absolutely wicked, Emma Nolan. Last night? Are you serious?” His fingers are still brushing lightly against her waist and she’s still giggling, actually giggling, for god’s sake. “Can I take you out for dinner, then?”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes and says, “you better,” before grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and kissing the holy hell out of him.
#my hands your hands#captain swan#captain swan fanfic#cs ff#cs ff au#captain swan au#new girl#new girl au#emma swan#killian jones#captain hook#once upon a time#once upon a time fanfiction#once upon a time au#once fanfic#ouat#ouat ff#ouat au#mhyh#writing#my writing#my hands your hands ff
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oh man watching you reminisce about ouat has me thinking about it again, like i'm this close to doing a rewatch. i'd probably have to stop earlier than you would on your hypothetical rewatch though, because i never quite got over my annoyance at just how many character-assassinating retcons they threw august's way in order to make neal look less awful in comparisson
oof, they did do a number on august, didn’t they? i will say that i never blamed him for the shit neal pulled, although i suspect the show wanted me to. at the end of the day, though, neal was a grown ass man who had a sexual relationship with a sixteen-year-old girl (seventeen at the oldest, but that doesn’t make it any better--she was still seventeen when henry was born, so either she was sixteen when he was conceived or barely seventeen, and they’d had a relationship for some time before that), and then abandoned her to go to prison for his crimes all because he was too scared to face his daddy. and then he had the gall to get mad at emma for not telling him he had a kid, like he hadn’t forfeited any right to be in her and henry’s lives when he betrayed her lmfao. and he died as he lived, a victim of his own stupidity, and i can’t help but blame him for the fact that rumple was still around to make my life as a once viewer fucking miserable three seasons later.
honestly, i think that ouat really suffered, especially later on, from insisting on separating each season into two almost completely separate plotlines. season 1 is, as far as i’m concerned, unarguably the best in terms of cohesive narrative and characterization, and i think that’s in large part because the people crafting the story gave it the whole season to breathe, rather than cramming a whole massive arc into each half. in season 2, at least the two halves of the season fit together and low relatively well, but by season 3 things had begun to deteriorate, and for me the most marked drop in quality happened after season 4a.
it’s actually something of an unpopular opinion in the fandom, but i loved the frozen arc. anna and kristoff were precious, elsa was amazing (and also the only person i ever really shipped emma with other than killian [and graham, but he died long since]), and ingrid was right there as an example of someone who’d done terrible things on the scale of the evil queen, but realized what she’d done, felt remorse, and tried to atone for them. i still don’t understand how the show could get the writing so right in some cases (killian, ingrid) and so fucking wrong in others (regina, rumplestiltskin). like, did they use up all of their Good Writing tokens or something and just had nothing left over for the two biggest villains in the entire series????
anyway, for me, season 4b is where the writing really went downhill. the queens of darkness arc was fucking horrendous, especially since regina clearly never fucking learned from it. she literally tried to rewrite reality to make herself not a bad person, rather than, i don’t fucking know, own up to the shit she did and try to make amends to the people she hurt. giving back all those hearts in your vault would’ve been a nice fucking start, regina. as would owning up to murdering graham. and letting robin go because you may have loved him but you also murdered his wife and you should have been grateful to emma for ensuring you had less blood on your hands. and the way the show tried to make it seem like emma was on some sort of slippery slope to becoming evil because she killed the woman she thought was about to murder her son?????
nevermind the whole ‘emma is Good because we literally removed her potential for Evil and gave it to some other baby’ thing which...........ugh. i hate it. i hate it so MUCH.
so yeah, if i do a rewatch, i’ll probably watch through the end of the frozen arc, and then just watch the s4 finale. for all that i hate everything about the queens of darkness arc and regina’s attempts to rewrite reality, i love hook and henry saving emma and getting saved by her in turn--and also deckhand hook finding courage despite having it literally written out of him by the new reality courtesy of regina, like. there’s just so much good in that finale (nevermind just... emma’s outfit and her everything, my bi little heart could barely handle it), and as long as i shut it off before emma sacrifices herself yet again for fucking regina, it’s just an amazing bit of television that reminds me of once at its best.
#ouat#emma swan#killian jones#captain swan#anti swanfire#anti regina mills#not a regina mills friendly blog#more tags i haven't used in a while#hello darkness my old friend#asked#Anonymous
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Dead Man’s Cell Phone--Chapter 3
Summary: When Emma Swan starts getting phone calls and texts from an unfamiliar number, she decides to check it out–only to discover the number belongs to a Killian Jones, who was killed in a robbery gone wrong six months ago. With some help from a medium, Merlin Emrys, Emma hopes to find out why a dead guy is contacting her–and why she feels such a strong pull to someone she has never met before.
Rating: K+
Welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! A big thank you to @cssns, the ladies on the Discord! Thank you also to @eastwesthomeisbest, my artist and my beta @veryverynotgood!
Other Chapters: Prologue 1 2 4 Epilogue
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Wait...what?” Emma sputtered. “He’s not dead? How is that possible? I thought you said you sensed his spirit or whatever.”
Merlin nodded, brows furrowed. “Something...unusual...is certainly going on here, though I’m at a loss as to what it might be. I certainly sense his spirit, but I also sense your friend is correct. Killian Jones has not yet passed over to the spirit world.”
“So,” Emma said after a moment, “does that mean he really was asking for my help? That there’s some guy out there who’s, I don’t know, lying in a ditch or something and I can save him?”
Merlin closed his eyes, concentrating. He appeared to be listening intently. Finally he nodded, opened his eyes and looked back at Emma. “He says he doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t know exactly what happened to him. He remembers you, Emma, remembers running into you before--whatever happened to leave him in his current state.”
Remembers running into me? What did that even mean?
“So--this Killian, he knows me?” Emma asked.
“Not exactly,” Merlin said. “You met once, and let’s just say you made quite an impression. You were fresh on Killian’s mind when his mishap occurred. No doubt that’s the reason his spirit attached itself to you. He sensed a kindred spirit, sensed you were someone who could hear him, come to his aid.”
“Well if that’s what he thought, I think he’s probably screwed,” Emma murmured, feeling the helplessness and agitation rise. “I’m no savior or whatever. I don’t even know who this guy is, let alone where he is or how to find him. It’s just...just too much.”
Merlin leaned forward and put a comforting hand on Emma’s forearm. “Just breathe, Emma,” he soothed, modeling the advice for her until she joined in, until her heart rate slowed, and she felt much less like she was about to lose control. “You have the heart of a hero. You keep your walls high, feeling the need to protect yourself, but underneath it all beats the heart of someone who wishes to be of service to her fellow man and woman. You may not believe it, but trust me--Killian Jones’s faith in you was not misplaced. You got his messages. You followed up on them. You came to me, even though you do not believe in my abilities. I have every confidence in the world that because of you, Killian Jones will be found and saved.”
Emotions hit Emma hard. Growing up in the system as she had, she’d always felt like a lost little girl who didn’t matter to anyone and never would. Merlin would never know just how much his words meant to her.
And Killian. Though she’d never met him--or at least she didn’t remember it if she had--she strangely felt a deep, abiding gratitude and affection for him because of his faith in her. Whether it made sense or not, she somehow knew Merlin spoke the truth. She knew Killian believed in her; that he was connected to her in some weird, psychic way that she couldn’t explain.
It made her all the more convinced that whatever it took, she would find him, and she would save him.
“Thanks,” she said thickly, feeling keenly just how insufficient the small word was. “But what now? How do we find him?”
“Ask him yourself,” Merlin said. “You’re the one with the strongest connection to him. Ask him where he is; how we can find him.”
Emma took a deep breath, looking around the room, not knowing where exactly to direct her words. “Um…” she said, “so I don’t know if you can hear me or whatever, but we need help finding you. Do you know where you are? Can you see anything? Hear anything? Are you...are you in pain?”
Merlin closed his eyes again for a moment, listening, and then he returned his attention to Emma. “Killian doesn’t know where he is, but he assures you he’s as comfortable as can be expected. He can’t see anything, but he hears beeping, people moving in and out, some speaking to him, others merely speaking about him.”
“I wonder…” Emma mused, “what if someone found him, took him to the hospital?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I was just wondering if you have any John Does,” Emma asked the woman at the welcome desk of Storybrooke General Hospital. “I’m looking for someone who might have been brought here, maybe several months ago.”
The woman perked up. “There is one man. He was brought in six months ago with severe head wounds; has been in a coma ever since. The cops found him near an alley. We haven’t had any luck finding out his identity or really anything about him.”
Emma’s heart pounded. This was him. She knew it; she could feel it.
“Can you take me to him?” Emma asked. “It may sound weird, but I think I can help.”
The woman smiled gently at her. “We’ve been waiting such a long time for one of his loved ones to show up. He’s quite a favorite of the nurses. He’s rather easy on the eyes, after all.”
Emma felt the heat creep up her cheeks at the implication she was Killian’s loved one. She didn’t even know the man, after all, as much as it might feel like she did. “Yeah, well, uh...can I see him?”
“Of course!”
The woman led Emma and Merlin down a hallway and through a pair of glass double doors into the bright, sunny intensive care unit. This place was oddly cheerful for a place of such desperation.
No sooner were they through the door than Emma’s eyes found the dark haired man on the bed, and recognition flared immediately.
“Wait, I’ve seen him before!” she exclaimed to Merlin. “I was running late one day, and that guy ran into me--literally. Made me drop my sack of groceries. I was kind of rude to him, honestly. Felt bad about it afterwards, but it was just one of those days, you know?”
Merlin smiled. “That moment was when your connection was forged. Killian is still speaking to me. He says you’ve nothing to feel bad about. Your encounter, brief as it was, pulled him from some rather dark thoughts. Despite what happened afterwards, he’s grateful to you.”
It was an odd feeling, finally coming face to face with the man who’d been calling and texting her--the man who’d been unconscious for months. He was there and yet he wasn’t.
She hadn’t the slightest clue what she was meant to do now, and so she did the only thing she could--she pulled up a chair and sat next to Killian’s bedside.
Some time later, Emma didn’t know how long, a doctor came in, a man with bleached blond hair and far more self-confidence than anyone had the right to.
“Hi, I’m Doctor Whale,” the man introduced himself, extending his hand. “I was told you were here. You’re John Doe’s--?”
“Uh, friend,” Emma said uncomfortably. “So what’s being done for him? What’s his prognosis?”
“I can’t give you any details,” Dr. Whale said, “privacy laws and all of that, but he’s stable. We’re keeping him comfortable; that’s about all we can do at the moment.”
The man did a quick examination, exchanged a few more pleasantries and then moved on to his next patient.
“That’s not precisely true, Emma,” Merlin whispered as soon as the doctor was out of earshot. “There may not be anything more they can do, but there may very well be something more you can do.”
“What do you mean? What can I do that a doctor can’t?”
“Bring him back to himself,” Merlin said simply. “Coax him to wake up.”
Oh, is that all? “How exactly am I supposed to do that?” Emma asked.
“Graham is still with us,” Merlin said rather than address the question itself. “He wants you to know he believes in you. You already have the answers within you. All you need to do is trust yourself.”
For a moment Emma wanted to scream. What kind of an answer was that? How the hell could she wake a guy from a coma? What, was she supposed to yell in his ear or something?
But little by little, Emma realized Merlin was right. She didn’t know how, but somehow she knew exactly what she needed to do. Getting to her feet, Emma went to the bedside and took Killian’s hand. With her other hand, she brushed his fringe from his face and then cupped his stubbled jaw, letting her thumb caress his cheek.
“It’s time to wake up now,” she said in a soft voice. “Killian, come back to me.”
For a moment nothing happened, and then suddenly his startlingly blue eyes opened, zeroing in on her face before a wide, delighted smile graced his lips.
“Swan,” he breathed, “at last!”
Notes:
--Yay! Killian woke up!
--Up next: We get some answers about what really happened to Killian. Also, do you remember the other desperate/angry spirit that was with Emma/Merlin/Graham earlier? He shows up again...and it turns out he has a lot of answers for us.
Next Chapter-->
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CS January Joy Day 31: Bad Times, Good Decisions.
AN: The final entry of @csjanuaryjoy I'm so happy to be a part of it for the fourth year. Thank you for all the people who contributed to it and all the readers who showed there support.
Thank you @profdanglaisstuff for beta reading this! I am so sorry I forgot to mention it earlier! I really appreciated your help!
Continuation from Part 1: Ao3 FFn
Bad Times, Good decisions
Emma hasn’t had the best holiday season. If she’s honest, it’s been pretty rough.
She was forced to go to Thanksgiving with Mary Margret and David as an apology for completely ghosting them for Halloween. Honestly, looking back, Emma doesn’t know what she was thinking.
Emma knows that they just want the best for her, so avoiding the party and spending the night and day with a complete stranger was just stupid. He could have been a real creep.
“Did you at least have a good time?” Mary Margret asked. “Ruby said you were having a good time.”
Emma nodded. She had, It had been great. “But it’s over. It was just a one time thing, a spur of the moment friendship.” She insisted. Because that’s all Emma can handle. David puffed out his chest in a bit of protective instinct. Mary Margret had simply taken Emma’s hands.
“Emma, those walls of yours...” She says trailing off. “They may keep out pain, but do you think that they might also keep out love too?” She asks. “Maybe this guy is worth lowering your walls for?”
Emma hesitates, considering it, but eventually shakes her head.
“I’m sorry.” She says instead, wishing she could, wishing she had the strength to do as she asked, to be normal for a change. “I don’t think I can.”
But what Emma did have the strength to do was find her bail jumpers, so from Halloween to Thanksgiving, she threw herself head first into her work, so when Thanksgiving came, she welcomed the break to go to Mary Margret’s father’s house for the weekend. She didn’t have to worry about being set up this time as the person Mary Margret had tried before actually wasn’t available.
“He had a girlfriend.” Mary Margret admitted as they’re packing up her pies. “He didn’t realize I was setting him up, apparently she’s not ready for introductions so he was keeping her a secret.” She shakes her head. “I kinda feel bad for trying to set you up with someone not available.”
Emma shakes her head. “It’s fine, you didn’t know.” She says. It would have been a disaster had she come.
Anyway, Mary Margret promised not to invite anyone extra to David’s mother’s Thanksgiving. She thankfully kept her word, and it was just their immediate family. It was sweet and nice, but honestly Emma felt a bit like an outsider there, but she tried not to let it show.
It wasn’t their fault that Emma was so guarded, so defensive against this kind of stuff. It wasn’t their fault Emma couldn’t help but think back to Halloween and wonder how Killian was spending his holiday.
//
Christmas was considerably worse than Thanksgiving. She hadn’t wanted to spend another with Mary Margret’s family, so when her boss offered her a skip the night of Christmas Eve, she took it without hesitation.
The guy was looking for a date on Christmas Eve with his children in a foster home, alone, practically orphaned because of his blatant disregard for their well being. It enraged her to no end.
Perhaps that’s how the guy managed to realize that there was something off with her, and made a break for it.
It ended with her dress torn, the guy handcuffed on his way to jail and an emergency room visit with a busted ankle and broken ribs.
She didn’t see anyone she knew on Christmas, just nurses filtering in and out of her room. The hospital food was a bit better that day, but besides that she spent most of the day sleeping off the pain meds they had given her
David showed up the next day and took her home. He must have apologized a dozen times for not being there, for not being able to get her yesterday, but Emma waved him off.
“You were spending time with your family.” she reminded him. As soon as she gets to her floor and unlocks her door, Emma practically limps on autopilot to her bed. She hears David moving around in her kitchen, no doubt trying to do some cleaning.
“Leave it!” She called, barely able to lift her head she was so tired. “It’s fine...go home...”
“Fine.” David said, approaching the entrance to her bedroom. “But promise you’re going to be there at our New Year’s party?” He asks. Emma furrows her brows.
“Then will you leave?” She asks.
He nods.
“Fine.” She murmurs into her pillow. “But no set up.”
“No set up.” David repeats.
//
The last thing Emma expects is to see Killian is on New Years Eve.
Even further from that, is the call she gets from him two days before New Years Eve. Emma hadn’t recognized the number, but was so bored on her medical leave for her ankle that she’d picked up the phone.
“Emma Swan?” He asked. Emma had gasped at the familiar accent. “It’s Killian. Killian Jones from Halloween.”
Emma nodded dumbfounded, then recalls that he can’t see her. “Yeah, I remember you...what’s up?” Then she kicks herself for saying what’s up like an idiot.
“Well...um...I got myself in a bit of a situation.” She can practically see him scratch behind his ear nervously.
“Do you need bail?” Emma says instinctively.
“What? No.” He responded. “Why would you think that?”
“I’m a bails bond person.” She reminds him. “It’s kinda my job.”
“Right yes, but no. I’m not in jail.” He clarified. “But I do need your help.” He replied. “It’s actually stupid really, but well, are you busy New Year’s Eve?” He asked.
“I’m supposed to go to a party-” She starts.
“Ok, no worries, sorry to waste your time-” He says quickly, interrupting her and seeming very nervous if Emma’s honest.
“Wait, Killian, what is it?”
“Um...well....how would you feel about coming to a party my friend is throwing and pretending to be my girlfriend?” He asks very quickly. It catches Emma completely off guard.
“It’s stupid, I know. Sorry to waste your time-”
Yet again, Emma stops him from hanging up. She definitely needs more details.
“Stop trying to hang up.” She says stubbornly. “And tell me what you’re talking about.”
There’s a long sigh. “Do you remember my friends that tried to match me up with some girl on Halloween? Well to get out of any future setups,I may have told them I had a secret girlfriend?”
Oh my God.
“And I managed to get out of Thanksgiving and Christmas, but now they are insisting that I come to their New Years Party and to bring my girlfriend.”
“Who doesn’t exist.”
“So you see my problem.”
She did, she definitely did.
“I’m sorry to even ask this, honestly I don’t know how I even got into this mess...” He admits.
“Probably has to do with that girl you got snowed in with during Halloween.” She says with a smirk. “And if it helps keep your friends off your back, I can help.” Although Emma doesn’t know why she’s helping, it seems crazy. Absolutely crazy.Besides, she has her own party to go to and if she cancels on David, they are literally going to kill her.
“I just have to make it to my party at some point before midnight.” She tells him.
“I can work with that.” Killian says. He sounds relieved. “How about you come by my apartment around 7, we can prep and then I’ll drive us over.” He offers. “We can get a bite to eat before we head over.”
“Sounds perfect.”
//
The last thing Emma expects is to see Killian is on New Years Eve, and yet here she is knocking on his door.
She hears something crashing in his apartment. “I’ll be right there!” He calls, before pulling the door open.
Killian looked good, that was the first thing Emma noticed, a black button down, even darker jeans. His hair was a little messy but in a way too attractive way.
Emma suddenly remembered why she slept with him before. Twice.
He looks up at her with those blue eyes, bright and happy. “Swan.” he greets, smirking. “You look...”
He is looking her up and down and seemed at a loss for words.
She smirks at him, satisfied that she looked as good as she felt. “I know.” She replies, maybe a bit too smug but it makes Killian grin wider. He steps aside and welcomes her in.
The apartment looks pretty much the same as it had before, but she could definitely smell something absolutely wonderful in the oven. “What is that?” She asks.
Now he’s the one that looks oh so smug.
“Chicken Parm.” He responds, going to the kitchen to check on things as Emma takes a seat at the kitchen island. “I hope you’re hungry.”
(she tries not to think about having breakfast here oh so long ago, or the thoughts that she could get used to a beautiful man cooking her food)
Instead, she just pulls the end of her black dress down and crosses her heels under the stool. “So tell me about this party?” She asks. “And how long have we been dating?” She knows better than anyone that they need to get their story straight before they get there.
“Just a few weeks before Halloween.” He admits. “And they’re my co-workers friends really, but the second they met me they thought I was perfect for a friend of theirs, honestly they’re very nice people.” He insists.
Emma can tell that it pains this man to lie to them, but Emma totally understands the feeling.
“And what do you do?” Emma asks. “Because after all the time we went through, I don’t think I caught your job.”
“Oh, I work at the engineering firm down by the dock.”
Emma nods. It seemed fitting for Killian, he seemed a very organized person.
“Alright Dinner’s ready.” Killian announces, pulling out plates and serving the chicken from the oven, as well as some sauce and pasta from a pot on the stove.
Honestly, the moment Emma tries it she’s blown away. It tastes great.
“You said you work in Bail bonds?” Killian asks after a few bites.
She nods. “Mostly in the recovery.” She specifies. She never really had the eye for the business part of it. She left that mostly for Chloe.
“The recovery...”Killian repeats. “Hold on, you’re a bounty hunter?” He asks in amazement. She shrugs.
“Bail bonds person.” Emma clarifies. “There’s a difference.”
“How does someone get into that line of work?” He asks. It’s an honest question.
“Rough childhood, even rougher early adulthood, I had a...minor infraction with the law...” Emma admits, keeping her eyes on him to see if he was bothered by that detail.
He doesn’t seem to be, he seems completely focused on her, warmth and understanding radiating off of him in waves.
“And a bail bonds person caught me, but I didn’t make it easy.” She’d given Chloe hell before she was finally caught. “After I got my shit together, she offered me a job.”
“Wow Swan, I knew you were a tough lass, but I wasn’t expecting that.” He admits sheepishly.
“I live to be the unexpected.” Killian laughs at that, but by then she’s just about finished her plate. “Alright so I’m guessing you drive us to your party, then about 10 you drop me at mine?” Emma asks.
Killian nods. “Perfect love.”
//
“I have friends who live around here.” Emma admits as they get out of his car.
“Oh?” She nods.
“Would you believe my party is in the same building?” She responds. “I bet there’s a lot of New Year Parties happening tonight.”
Killian nods. “Maybe we can see each other after then?” He asks. “After the ball drops.”
Her breath catches in her throat at the offer. It makes her think that maybe, just maybe the thoughts and feeling she had weren’t one sided “Maybe.” She responds once her voice works properly. “Let’s just get to the party.” Emma states. His head dips and she gets this sudden feeling like he’s disappointed.
Emma suddenly has this feeling like she’s said something wrong but she’s not sure what.
“Aye, shall we?” He says, holding the door to the apartment building open for her.
“Are we good?” Emma says.
“Of course Swan.” He replies all too calmly. Now that was a telltale sign of things being not fine at all. Emma was not going in there with him being all not fine on her. Fake girlfriend or otherwise, it would be a disaster. So once the elevator door closed behind them, Emma made her move. She took a step towards him, stepping into his space
“Spit it out Jones.” She snaps.
So he kisses her. And oh my god Emma forgot how good of a kisser Killian was, and maybe it was better now. Now that she’s not drunk or sad or anything but ready to be a fabulous fake girlfriend for this man.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for the better part of three months.” He says into her neck because that’s where his lips ended up. Her hands were in his hair, his very very soft hair and-
The elevator door opens.
She hears a shriek. Emma opens her eyes and freezes. Killian jerks away but nothing can hide the mess Emma made from his hair, or the bit of lipstick smudged in his lips.
“Emma?!” It’s Ruby. “You’re Jones’s girlfriend?”
Emma looks at Killian, and then back at Ruby, then at the floor number. She was on Mary Margret’s floor.
Oh my god. Emma realizes, she sees the horror on Killian’s face.
They were going to the same party. Where Emma had made David swear not to set her up with anyone because she was chronically single, while also having to pretend to be Killian’s secret girlfriend.
“Um...” Killian stammered. “Your Ruby right? Aurora’s friend?”
“And Emma’s supposed best friend.” Ruby says, arms crossed. “Emma, why didn’t you tell me you were dating Jones? How did you even meet if you both ditched the set up.
Emma hadn’t even thought about that, hadn’t even considered...
Too much, too much information, too much attention and she desperately wanted to keep kissing Killian. So Emma did the only thing she could possibly think about doing.
Looking Ruby dead in the eye she pressed the ‘close door’ button on the elevator and then randomly pressed another button.
“We are screwed.” Killian said in a breath.
“Absolutely.” She agrees. It doesn’t stop her from continuing to make out with Killian. Not one bit.
“You know we’re going to have to come clean to everyone right?” He says after a moment.
“Yeah.” she says. “But we’ll give a hell of a start to 2020.”
Tagging: @ilovemesomekillianjones
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BBB Week 24 Roundup!
Please remember, if you don’t include ALL of the following information, your fill may not make it on the roundup. And if it’s not in the roundup, it’s not in our spreadsheets, which means you may not be able to get your badges.
Title of work
Collaborator (that’s you)
Link (AO3, Tumblr, etc.)
Square Filled (letter AND number AND prompt)
Ship/Main Pairing
Rating (Gen, Teen, Mature, Explicit)
Major Tags/Warnings (AO3 tags are a great example)
Summary of work
Word Count (if applicable)
Title: idiots in love
Collaborator: jurassicworjd
Link: AO3
Square Filled: Y5 - Didn’t Know They Were Dating
Ship: WinterHawk
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: swearing
Summary: It’s pretty obvious that Bucky and Clint are dating. Everyone can see it. Well, everyone except for Bucky and Clint.
Word Count: 2346
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Title: Rapid, Stupid Love
Collaborator: plutosrose
Link: AO3
Square Filled: U3 - Kink: Office Sex
Ship: Stucky
Rating: Explicit
Major Tags: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Alternate Universe - College/University, office sex, self-esteem, lunch dates, some covert Sam Wilson/Natasha Romanov, explicit sexual content
Summary: Yeah, turns out it takes about three weeks for Bucky to realize he's probably in love with Steve. And to get paint all over his thighs while they're having sex in Steve's office.
Word Count: 2532
------------------------------------------
Title: Baby, You Can Sleep In My Car
Collaborator: ibelieveinturtles
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: U5 - Cold
Ship: Bucky/Darcy
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: meet ugly, homelessness
Summary: Darcy needs her van for a date but first she has to rehome the homeless dude that’s been squatting in it.
Word Count: 824
------------------------------------------
Title: Next Time
Collaborator: ialwayscomewhenyoucall
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: K1 - knives
Ship: WinterHawk
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: implied/referenced self-harm (more like self-neglect), massage, nightmares, angst, fluff, first kiss
Summary: Clint’s nightmares often drive him to the range in the middle of the night, where he pushes his body harder than he should to try to get rid of the images in his brain. When Bucky finds him there, both of them get rather more than they’re expecting.
Word Count: 1741
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Title: We Were Too Annoying For Prison
Collaborator: plutosrose
Link: AO3
Square Filled: Y1 - Brooklyn
Ship: Stucky
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: going to prison with your bf, new identities, television shows based on characters’ lives, Steve making threats and having it being taken as folksy, the importance of making your own choices, a sliver of angst, but a happy ending, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Summary: Steve hatches a hare-brained scheme to get himself and Bucky back to the United States - go to prison together. The ridiculously popular television show based on Bucky's life is a little bit more unexpected.
Word Count: 8053
------------------------------------------
Title: Kindred Spirits
Collaborator: rya_204
Link: AO3
Square Filled: U3 – Shieldra
Ship: Bucky & Alexander Pierce
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Alternate Universe - Soulmates; Soulmate-Identifying Marks; brief mention of rape; Angst; Hurt Bucky Barnes; Drabble Collection
Summary: The world is divided in two: souls that leave marks on you and those that don't. The souls who communicate with you are called kindred spirits.
Word Count: 567
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Title: Apply Firm Pressure - Chapter 1: Chase them down
Collaborator: darter-blue
Link: AO3
Square Filled: Y3 - Never meant to hurt you
Ship: Stucky
Rating: Explicit
Major Tags: Shrunkyclunks, angst, canon typical violence, hurt, protective steve rogers, bucky barnes POV, bottom bucky barnes, eventual smut, angst with a happy ending
Summary: Bucky and Steve are (finally out of the back of the truck) tasked with getting themselves safe and getting to Becka. All of the pieces are falling together and this nightmare (dream? does all the amazing sex, does the fact that he's fallen head over heels... does that override the terror of his life having been turned upside down?) might soon be over. They might have solved all of it. Also Steve may or may not have accidentally let slip that he plans on keeping Bucky around - like, post this weird kidnapping holiday. He wants to keep seeing Bucky. Steve does. Superhero, literal enhanced human being, secret government agent, god like creature with biceps that could incite a revolution, Steve. Wants to continue to see Bucky, anxiety ridden, one armed, science nerd, hipster-esque disaster-human Bucky. But they have to survive this first. And suddenly that seems like it might be harder than they thought.
Word Count: 7923
------------------------------------------
Title: Aria in B♭ - Chapter 10
Collaborator: 27dragons
Link: AO3
Square Filled: U2 - Terrible Choices
Ship: WinterIron
Rating: Explicit
Major Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, opera singer Bucky Barnes, nobleman Tony Stark, Prostitution, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dubious Consent, Pining, Dueling, Gambling
Summary: Lord Stark has his faults – a bit too fond of a drink, a little too reckless at cards, and entirely too happy to flout his good fortune in his rivals’ faces. But a man as wealthy and powerful as Tony Stark is bound to have a few peccadillos. What he is not, is the sort of man who would force himself upon another unwilling, unlike Lord Killian, who seems to have taken a particular shine to an opera singer in the troupe Killian is hosting. Tony rescues Mr. Barnes from Killian’s untender mercies, moves the troupe into his own home, and takes Mr. Barnes as his bed companion for the season. The arrangement provides protection for Bucky and the troupe from Killian’s spite, and tweaks Killian at the same time – a win all around, as far as Tony is concerned. He wasn’t counting on Bucky being so utterly charming and wonderful, or for the possibility that he might actually, after so many years a bachelor, fall in love.
Word Count: 38,678
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Catch Me If You Can (13/?)
298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.
But then he came back and won the World Series.
It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.
Asking her out live on-air will do that.
Rating: Mature
A/n: I obviously can’t make it through an entire MC story without changing the aesthetic I made at the beginning. Oh well. Happy Monday! Here are new words! As always, the MVP trophy goes to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading through all of these words ⚾️
AO3: Beginning | Current
Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 |
Tag list: @eala-captian @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @galaxyzxstark @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer
-/-
Killian Jones keeps hazelnut coffee creamer in the refrigerator of his apartment for her.
She made one comment about it, about how that’s how she likes her coffee, and the next time that she showed up to his apartment, it was there, waiting for her. He didn’t tell her, didn’t make a big deal about it or point it out to her. It was simply there waiting to be used sitting in the fridge in a spot that she knows he carefully cleaned out just for her.
It’s the smallest thing, nothing really, but it’s so damn considerate that it made her heart swell.
He does that to her.
She’s not used to people doing small things like that for her, but Killian is always doing little things like that.
And it’s not what she should be thinking as she watches him throw out his forty-second pitch of the game against Blue Jays, but it is.
Honestly, though, she’s either going to think about the fact that he really listens to her when she talks, or she’s going to think about the clench of his heavily stubbled jaw, the way that his hair falls messily over his forehead, the way his sea-blue eyes turn dark as night, and the muscles in his biceps as his fingers moved swiftly against her center as he made her come undone on top of the leather of his couch with Black Sails playing in the background.
Killian’s voice had gotten gravely as he spoke to her, dirty whispers and encouragements, and every bit of her body felt electrified. She was so ready, so damn desperate to have the rough pads of his fingers moving against her, to have his delicate touch teasing her breasts, and to have his lips attached to her neck as he thrust into her in easy motions that her mind has been conjuring up for a few weeks now.
She wants to fuck her boyfriend and feel the heat of him covering every inch of her.
And they can’t seem to find the time.
Granted, it’s only been six days since they pretty much dry humped – and a little bit more – on his couch, but it’s felt like so much longer. Killian got called away to practice, and that seems to be all that he’s done since. They had the series against the Sox, which Al seemed to really be stressing about more than usual, and despite the fact that they won the series and are currently number one in the league, the entire team seems to be on edge.
And, honestly, she can tell that it’s having a negative impact on the team considering how badly they are losing this game right now.
“I’m pretty sure Jones has a hickey on his collarbone,” Ruby speaks into her earpiece, and Emma is so damn glad that she’s not on camera right now for the way that she knows blush is painting her cheeks.
Jeff rolls his eyes from where he’s sitting next to her, the camera turned off and resting by his feet, but he’s very obviously still got his own earpiece in.
“I don’t think so, Rubes.”
“No, no, I think it is. It might be an old one. Do you think he has a new girlfriend? Or maybe just an overly enthusiastic one-night-stand?”
New girlfriend, yes.
But Ruby doesn’t know that. And she can’t. Not quite yet. And not over a system where several people can listen to their conversation, Walsh included. David decided that he’d fly several people to Toronto for this series as some kind of practice run and learning experience for what games are like on the road, and she absolutely cannot wait until they get to go home so that she’s not around all of these people this often.
Ruby, Jeff, and David – absolutely fine. Walsh – not fine at all.
He’s still got such a stick up his ass, and she prefers not to see his face. He’s the one who broke her heart, who betrayed their relationship, but sometimes he acts like she’s the one who ended them and cheated on him.
Definitely not.
Asshole.
“That’s really not our business,” she sighs, sinking a little further into her seat as her eyes scan over the field. It’s surprisingly cool outside today, and she’s really regretting wearing a dress instead of her jeans when her favorite pair is sitting inside of her hotel room.
“It’s kind of our business.”
“You’re just nosy,” Emma laughs, wishing she could change the subject. “Technically, our job is to only cover how these guys play, but it does help to know about their personal lives. If Killian has a new girlfriend, I’m sure it’ll be discovered soon enough. He’s never exactly been private in the past.”
Okay, harsh, Emma, she thinks to herself. She knows that she’s trying to cover a lie, but damn.
“Maybe he’s changed his ways.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Is this what you guys always talk about when you’re supposed to be working?” David asks, his voice coming in loud and clear over her earpiece.
“Yes,” Jeff mutters next to her, and she reaches over to slap his shoulder as Killian throws another ball. “They are the height of professionalism.”
“Jeff, if you’re finally going to speak, maybe don’t rat us out.”
“Maybe I don’t speak because you two never give me a chance.”
“Damn,” Emma mutters, winking at Jeff, “who knew you were going to be like that? And David, these games are very long, and I work for so little of them. Of course we talk. I hate my road trips where I’m by myself sometimes. That’s usually when I go bug the players in the dugout.”
“That makes it sound like I need to see if I can find more things for you to do. Maybe we can get you to commentate on a game.”
“Hell yes,” she says a little too loudly, the people around her looking at her like she just committed murder or something. “Can you really do that?”
“I can talk to a few people. I can’t guarantee anything, but maybe we can test you out on a few smaller games later in the season.”
“You’re the actual best.”
“Well, I figured I was already the best since we’re family, and you love me.”
“That’s beside the point.”
“It’s most definitely not,” David sighs, and she just knows that he has a smile plastered onto his face. “Speaking of family, Mom is coming into town on the twenty-first. I know that’s a busy week for you and that we’re sending you to London right after that, but I think we’re going to do a big dinner at the house.”
“I can make time. I didn’t know she was coming into town.”
“It was a last-minute thing since we couldn’t decide on the date that worked for all of us. I’m sure she’ll call you about it soon, but I know that she expressed concerns that she would be charged an arm and a leg for calling you right now since we’re technically out of the country.”
“She most definitely won’t,” Emma laughs all the while Arthur catches a ball in the outfield and the fourth inning ends, all of the players running back to their dugouts. “But yeah, that’s fine. Just let me know, and I’ll be there. I’m sure she’s still upset that I haven’t come to visit as often as you have, which doesn’t even make any sense considering you’re her child and I am not.”
David clicks his tongue, and she grumbles to herself knowing where she messed up in that conversation. “She’s not your mom like she is mine, Emma, but you’re our family. You know that.”
She does. She really does. Just…childhood hang-ups that are likely never going to go away. Maybe one day. She loves Ruth, loves David, and it’s only when she thinks about it too much that she doesn’t refer to David as a brother. Fully accepting love has been hard for her for a lot of her life, but she’s working on it.
“I know. Sorry.”
“You know,” Ruby sighs, “for someone who got onto us for talking while working, you sure seem to be doing a lot of that.”
“I’m the boss,” David huffs.
“You just keep thinking that, buddy boy.”
-/-
The Yankees lose that day, but they’re 38-22 for the season so far, and things seem to be looking up if they keep progressing the way they are.
But Emma knows that it’s a long season, and they’ve barely begun.
-/-
Killian: Do you have dinner plans tonight?
Emma: I’m literally eating with David and Ruby right now. Why?
Killian: I figured we could sneak out and find a restaurant together. I could take you on a proper date.
Emma: Is this proper date your version of being a gentleman?
Killian: Now, darling, you know I am one.
Killian: Eat with David and Ruby. I’ll figure out a way for us to go on a date that doesn’t involve my apartment at some point, yeah?
Emma: That sounds really nice. Though I do love your apartment. Especially that couch.
-/-
One of their producers ended up not coming on the trip with them, so Emma managed to snag her own hotel room instead of sharing one with Ruby. It’s not that she would have minded sharing when that’s one of her absolute favorite things, but she likes that she can sit on her bed and watch what she wants to watch on television without anyone bothering her about it.
Sometimes a girl needs her peace and quiet, and when she’s spent all day around massive groups of people, that’s kind of what she needs right now.
And something to drink.
She’s really damn thirsty, and bathroom sink water isn’t really cutting it for her right now.
Sighing, she gets up from the bed and grabs her wallet and her hotel room key, slipping her feet into sandals as she leaves the room and goes in search of a vending machine. They’re usually so readily available, but for some reason, nicer hotels don’t have them. Like rich people don’t want a bag of chips in the middle of the night.
What’s the point of being rich if you can’t eat junk food whenever you want it?
Emma checks the entirety of her floor, as well as the five floors below her, before resigning herself to only checking the main floor of the hotel to find herself something to drink. If all else fails, she’ll just ask someone at the front desk or walk down the street to whatever convenience store she can find even if that’s not that safe. She’d rather be mugged than pay the price of the drinks in her mini fridge.
Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration.
As she’s walking down the back hallways away from the lobby and the breakfast area, she passes the pool, not thinking anything of it until she sees a splash from her view in the tiny glass window pane over the door that looks into the indoor room.
Killian.
That’s Killian swimming laps in there.
For a moment, she debates whether or not she should go inside, whether that’s invading his privacy, but then she’s pushing the door open and closing it behind her, purposefully moving away from the door so that no one from outside can see her. This is very much them interacting while out in the open even if she doubts several people are going to be walking by the pool past ten at night.
And if they do, she and Killian are simply two people who decided to go for a late-night swim.
She just happens to swim in shorts and a camisole, and her body is completely dry because she hasn’t stepped foot inside of the water.
It’ll make a lot of sense to whoever walks in on them.
(She hopes that doesn’t happen.)
“Yo, Phelps,” she yells when Killian comes up for air at the side of the pool that she’s standing on.”
He blinks up at her, his mouth gaping like a fish, which seems appropriate, before he’s shaking his head and his hair out, the water droplets falling all over the concrete floor, and propping himself up on the edge of the water.
Heat pools between her thighs at the sight of water falling over Killian’s tanned skin, the dark hair on his chest curling in different ways than usual, and his muscles more defined even under the awful florescent lighting in this room. The want that she’s been feeling for weeks now keeps piling up, the untamable desire to be connected to Killian in more ways than just emotionally ramping up, and she already knows that when they have sex, it’s going to be different than it has been before.
That freaking terrifies her.
But she’s also more than ready.
It’s been a whirlwind six weeks, and she’s still trying to catch her breath.
Judging by the way Killian’s chest is heaving, she imagines he is too. More literally than figuratively.
“Swan,” he says on a sigh, reaching up to push his hair back off of his forehead, and that definitely doesn’t do anything to her at all, “what are you doing in here?”
“I was on a quest for something other than fifteen-dollar diet coke to drink, and I happened to pass by the pool. What are you doing in here?”
“Exercise.”
“Didn’t you get enough of that today?”
“Eh.” He reaches up to scratch behind his ear, a water droplet tracing the veins in his forearm. She really likes the veins in his forearms. That’s such a particular thing to like, but it’s a good thing to like. “This is relaxing to me, and it’s low impact. Archie recommended it for me for my shoulder.”
“Well, that’s good. You want to keep taking care of that shoulder. It’s the money maker. You played well today even if you guys lost.”
“Both an insult and a compliment all at once. Amazing.” He crooks his finger toward her, his brows waggling across his forehead while his smile stretches from one side of his lips to the other. “C’mere, love.”
“No,” Emma laughs, crossing her arms over her chest, the chill of the room tightening her nipples. “You’re wet, and I am not getting closer to you.”
Killian actually pouts, his bottom lip protruding, and she can’t help but chuckle at how ridiculous he is.
The most ridiculous.
“Oh, come on, Swan. This is a heated pool. It feels glorious.” He leans back into the water, spreading his arms out into the water as he floats on his back. “Why don’t you join me?”
“I’m not wearing a bathing suit.”
“You got underwear on under those clothes?”
“That is none of your business, twenty-nine.”
He whines in protest, standing up on his feet so that his chest is exposed to her again. “I’m also fine with no underwear being on underneath those clothes. Come on, Swan. What else do you have to do tonight than spend some time with me in an indoor and empty heated pool?”
He’s right. It sounds entirely appealing to join him, so without saying anything, she grabs the bottom of her camisole and pulls it over her shoulders, wishing she was wearing a different bra than the one she has on right now. It’s more lingerie than actual support system for her boobs, and she’s only wearing it because it didn’t show lines under her dress today. But if the heat of Killian’s gaze is any indication, the way that he’s hungrily staring at her, she can say that he probably doesn’t mind.
Deciding to toy with him a little bit, she turns around and slowly takes her shorts off, knowing that he likes her ass, before bending completely over to pull her hair up into a bun so that it doesn’t get wet. She can’t believe that she’s about to do this, but like Killian said, what else does she have to do tonight?
Slowly, she steps down into the pool, the warm water hitting her ankles, then her knees, then her stomach as she gets a little closer to where Killian is waiting, a far too triumphant smile on his face.
“Shut up.”
“I haven’t said a thing.” He swims a little closer to her, the ripples of water moving with his touch, before he’s in her space and cupping her cheeks so that their lips come together in a slow kiss that’s all soft lips and small tilts and something she’s never truly experienced before. “You’re simply reading into my actions.”
Emma scoffs, rolling her eyes a bit, but wanting more of his kiss and the feel of him pressed up against her, so she uses the momentum of the water to wrap her legs around his waist, her core pressing just at his hip, and hold onto him by holding onto the back of his neck. She can feel every inch of him lined up with every inch of her, and like it so often is with the two of them, nothing else exists outside of the darkened blue of his eyes and the way that his fingers are kneading at her ass, exploring parts of her that he hasn’t really gotten to explore despite how intimate they’ve been before.
This is not Killian’s couch.
Every move they make causes water to move, a loud echo in the enclosed space, and she tightens her ankles around his back while her fingers toy with the hair that’s getting a little long at the back of his neck.
“Do you always wear bras like that, love?”
Her gaze flickers down to where Killian’s is, the swell of her breasts as obvious as the tightness of her nipples from how her bra has shifted.
“Nope. They’re usually very beige and boring but comfortable since that’s the whole purpose of them. For me at least. So, you’re getting lucky tonight.”
“Am I?” he asks, his right brow raising high on his forehead, and she realizes exactly what she just said.
Is this the most sexual tension to ever happen inside of a hotel pool? Probably not. But that’s how she feels right now.
“Maybe. If you play your cards right.”
“Damn. I’ve always been bad at card games.”
“Remind me to invite you to poker.”
Killian chuckles, a sound that’s dark but also light and joyous, before one of his hands is releasing the firm grip on her ass to come up and brush away loose strands that have fallen in her face, an intimate touch that has a shiver running down her spine.
Yeah, that’s why a shiver is running down her spine.
“You’ll take away all of my money.”
“Little do you know, that’s been my plan the entire time.”
“I asked you out first, so I’m not sure it really could have been your plan.”
“Yeah, but when I asked you out, we actually did something about it.”
“Touché.” Then his head dips and his mouth is running against her jaw, soft pecks that get more insistent when he moves back toward her ear, his teeth nibbling at her lobe, scruff burning into her skin, that makes her sigh into him. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m so damn glad you stumbled into the pool tonight.”
She tilts her head back, wanting to give him more access to her skin, and he takes full advantage of it, nibbling and teasing and soothing as he works his way down her chest, biting down onto the swell of her breasts. It’s so much and not enough, so she tries to climb his body, to move herself further up, and he boosts her with his hands on her ass so that he can nose at her bra until her nipples are exposed and he’s sucking one into her mouth.
Holy fuck.
Killian hums around her, the sucking insistent, and she starts to wonder if she said that out loud, but she doesn’t really care when all of her focus is on the intense way that Killian is riling her up with his tongue and his teeth and his – ah.
She’s not above getting creative on places to have sex, but a public pool is not high on her list…and that’s definitely where it’s been leading.
“K-Killian,” she gaps, practically panting. “Killian, stop.”
He releases her with a wet plop, and when his head is leveled with hers, she can see the redness of his cheeks, the pink on his lips, and all of the dirty thoughts that she’s sure are curled at the tip of his tongue.
“What? Why?”
“We’re in a pool. That’s not exactly private, and with the way things are going, I think I’d rather like some privacy.”
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
“My room?”
“Fuck yes.”
It has never taken her so long to dry her body enough to put her clothes back on, and after what feels like an hour but is probably a minute, she pulls her top back over her shoulders and yanks her shorts up all the while Killian places his chain around his neck and wraps the towel around his waist without putting a shirt on. He doesn’t have a shirt. Of course not.
Anticipations buzzes through her, her feet never able to stay still, so as she silently follows Killian down the hotel hallways and up the elevator, she’s practically bouncing off of the carpets. She can tell that he feels the same way with the tense set of his jaw and the way that his hand squeezes onto hers, and the moment his hotel room door closes behind him, she lets out a sigh of relief that’s captured by Killian’s lips as he pulls her closer by the straps of her camisole and hungrily devours hers, quickly swiping his tongue into hers with no preamble.
Then again, they’ve had weeks of it.
He’s heavy and insistent against her, and even though she feels a chill from the dampness of her clothes, all she can feel is warmth. His hands move from her shoulders to her waist, tugging her closer so that they’re completely pressed together, and there’s no hesitation in the way that he moves against her.
None at all.
For years, all she knew of Killian Jones was that he was attractive, known for his dating life, and that he was a damn good pitcher. All she saw was the confidence and cockiness, the way that he swaggered on and off the field and threw people off with a flirtatious answer or a sly smile. She didn’t know him, no matter how well she thought that she did, but that’s not how it is now.
She knows that Killian is confident and cocky, that he can flirt successfully almost every time, and that he is sure of his movements with how he’s tangling his tongue with hers and making her melt into him. But she also knows that he’s got a lot of darkness hidden behind the blue of his eyes, that a lot of his confidence is fake and is only there to hide where he’s insecure.
The great Killian Jones can be insecure.
And unsure.
There are so many facets of him that she knows, so many that she hasn’t yet discovered, but she can’t wait to learn.
Nothing about him right now is unsure, though. Not the way that he pushes her back toward the bed, his steps precise and the movements of his hands directed to cover every inch of her skin at once. His chain is pressing into her skin, the cold metal a contrast to the warmth of his skin and his chest hair against her, and when his fingers slide up her neck and into her hair so that he can tilt her head to the side to deepen their kiss, she groans into his mouth.
This is absolutely everything, and she wants to be kissed like this – passionate, possessive, lovingly – every day for the rest of her life.
When her knees hit the end of the mattress, she pulls away from Killian so that she can tug her shirt off, the clothes falling to the floor. Immediately, she reaches for her bra, but then Killian’s grabbing onto her hands and moving them away so that he can undo the clasp, helping her remove the wet lace.
“Beautiful,” he mumbles with a slight shake of his head, his eyes focused on her breasts before flicking up to her eyes so that she can see the slight smile. “So beautiful.”
Even though she talks for a living, she’s never been great with words, so she doesn’t say anything, simply tugging him closer by the waistband of his swim shorts, and then he’s pushing her back onto the bed, her back hitting the mattress with a small oomph that has her laughing the slightest bit.
First times (and so many times after that) are always so heated and yet awkward, elbows in places that they don’t need to be and sounds made that shouldn’t be made, and while she’s usually nervous, she doesn’t feel that way right now.
“Something funny there, love?”
“Nothing at all.” She beckons him closer with a curl of her finger like he did to her earlier, and he obliges, bracing his palms on either side of her shoulders so that he’s staring down at her, hot breath hitting her already overheated skin. “I just like you is all.”
“Funny thing,” he smiles, dipping his hide to bite against her collarbone, “I rather like you too.”
She pulls herself up to try to start working at his shorts, but he wraps his fingers around her wrist all the while tugging her shorts down. She has to lift her hips to help him out, kick out at her ankles so that they fall to the floor, and she’s just about to try to work at his shorts again when his fingers are moving against the slick flesh that’s wet and aching and absolutely desperate to feel his touch again.
A whine escapes from her lips, one that even she knows sounds needy, and she can feel Killian’s chuckle against her breast as he breathes her in and keeps on driving her mad with the expert touch of his fingers. He’s very obviously a good listener both with coffee creamer preferences and sex preferences because he’s doing just what she asked him to last time.
No one should be able to bring her this much pleasure this quickly, should be able to make her feel like she’s already coming apart at the slightest touch.
Emma Swan wants Killian Jones, and she’s finally going to have him.
Her hips roll up into his, an attempt at chasing pleasure and bringing her more friction even with the way Killian is circling her clit, but when she gets the friction she’s chasing, Killian pulls back with a hiss and a clench of his jaw.
Some of the high comes down then, but only for a moment before he’s pulling his shorts down his thighs, exposing thick, muscled thighs covered in hair and his length bobbing against his stomach. She gulps, the thought of him sliding into her overwhelming her and exciting her all at once, but then he’s leaning back over her, nearly aligning their bodies so that he’s pressing against her thigh, smooth and thick and so goddamn hard that her body jolts at the touch.
“You’re a siren, do you know that?” He whispers the words as he ruts against her, his lips tracing her clavicle before he’s taking a nipple between his lips and lavishing there. He watches her as he does it, blue eyes under those unfairly long lashes, and she can barely control her breathing. Her heart may very well explode. “Everything about you. Your eyes, your hair, your pretty pink lips.”
His right hand trails up the mattress until he’s grabbing onto her hand and threading their fingers together, holding them above her head all the while he shifts his hips so that his cock brushes against her aching flesh, desire continuing to build.
She’s going to burst.
“The way your ass looks in your jeans,” he continues, moving away from her breasts and up her body until his lips are hovering just over hers his nose squishing into her cheek. “The way you smile and the laugh that follows after it. Or the way that you eat so many horrible things but get so happy while you’re doing it. The way you’re so passionate about your job, about your friends, about everything you do. A damn siren calling me to you.”
She gasps, words still failing her, so with her free hand, she reaches up and traces her fingers along the line of his scruff, smiling up at him as she blinks. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good with words?”
“Once or twice.”
“You are. Just, like, the best.”
His smile can be tasted in his kiss, and it’s this slow, tender thing, so unrushed like the rest of tonight, and she revels in it even as their hips keep rolling together.
“Do you have a condom this time?” she asks on a whisper.
“Bought a whole damn box on my way home from practice that day.”
She giggles into the comforter and then whines when Killian moves off of her, his bare ass in her view as he gets up and ruffles through his suitcase, pulling out a foil and carefully ripping it open. He moves to put it on, but this time it’s her turn to stop him. His breath hitches, his chest visibly moving, and the curses that he murmurs when her fingers travel over his length and the velvety feel of him are downright dirty. She tries to keep eye contact with him, but she can’t help but watch as between her thighs slicken.
“Lay down on your back.”
There’s a raise of a brow, but he listens, settling down onto the mattress and spreading his legs as she moves to hover above him, kissing along the muscles of his stomach and his inner thighs all the while her nails follow the path. He’s trembling, just barely though, and she smiles into his skin before balancing above him on her knees while his fingers find purchase on her hips, squeezing into her skin as she slowly moves above him so that he brushes against her flesh.
This is everything she imagined, and she did imagine this, but nothing compares to the real thing.
“Emma – ” His fingers move, his eyes wide, and she nods her head to his silent question before sinking down onto him and taking in every inch that she can.
Perfect.
Warm.
Full.
It’s a slight stretch, a new adjustment, and she reaches forward to press her hands against his chest, curling her fingers into the hair there as she sighs.
“Holy fuck.”
“That’s kind of what I was thinking too,” Killian chuckles, the smile on his face bright compared to how hooded his eyelids are.
And then she’s moving.
It’s a slow pace, one that’s full of learning and experimenting and simply trying to find a rhythm that’s right for the both of them. Electricity is rising on her skin, her flesh covered in bumps as the coil in her stomach continues to tighten, and with the way that Killian is thrusting up into her all the while she’s circling her hips over him, she doesn’t know how much longer she’s going to last.
“I need,” Killian mutters, adjusting his position under her while he tugs her down to bring their lips together, her breasts pressing into his chest as sweat trickles down her back.
“Faster?” she questions.
“Fuck yes.”
Then it’s a quick, dirty fuck, skin slapping against skin and moans being exchanged between them, and when Killian’s hand snakes down between them and starts rubbing against her flesh, she nearly loses it, having to bite into his shoulder as he wraps his arms around her waist and turns them. He slips from her as they reposition themselves, but then he’s sliding back into her in a rhythm that’s so intense that she has completely lost her breath.
She comes with a keening whimper into his jaw, her orgasm more sparks of electricity across her skin, and Killian encourages her to feel it, to let herself fall, all the while he thrusts into her, grunting and cursing and then finding his own releases as he presses into her and the cool metal around his chest does the same, their bodies connected in every damn way possible.
Killian coming is a beautiful sight.
His eyelids are hooded, his jaw clenched, and the intensity is like none other.
As far as first times with someone go, she thinks she likes this one the best.
He falls onto her, pressing into her with his weight, and she reaches up to comb her fingers through his hair, damp from the pool and from sweat, and she’s never been so fond of the smell of chlorine.
“I stand by my comments of you being a siren,” he mumbles against her skin before rolling off of her and off of the bed, quickly disposing of the condom before he crawls back In and pulls the blanket over the two of them. She needs to get up to use the restroom, but she has time for that later. “There is no way I’m ever going to be able to give you up now.”
Why did she ever bother catching her breath when it’s going to be taken away with words like that?
Emma rolls over to Killian, looping her leg over his calves and resting her head on his chest so that she can feel metal under her cheek and the quick beating of a heart to prove that this is real and not some kind of dream. Rough fingers trace across her back, spelling out words she can’t figure out, and then there’s a press of lips to her hairline that has her eyes fluttering closed in happiness.
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Call Me (25/?) - Another One Bites the Dust
Hi everyone. Happy Friday! I'd like to apologize for the delay once again. I've been on vacation with a lot of children around and I've found it quite difficult to concentrate (among other inconveniences) but I finally managed to finish the chapter! Also, taking into account my usual habit, the chapter ended being super long, so I decided to split it into two parts. (I might like the way the first part ends, so I found it interesting to cut it just like that. You'll find out the reason when you read it)The good news is that the second part is already finished so I'll post it in a few days.
I'd like to express my gratitude to three savior angels, @saraswans and @onceuponaprincessworld, thanks for your continued support and your advice. @chrissascorner, thanks for helping me edit the whole thing. You three are the best. Thank you also to everyone else for your patience and for your support. I hope the wait was worth it.
Summary: Emma loses her phone after a chase, but she finds a phone in a cafe just when she needs it most. Killian forgets his phone in a cafe when he is about to take a flight to Ireland. Killian makes a call to his own number hoping someone answers on the other end of the line. What will happen when Emma is the one answering the call?
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8Chapter 9 Chapter 10Chapter 11 Chapter 12Chapter 13 Chapter14Chapter 15 Chapter 16Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24
FF.net Ao3
//
Chapter 25 - Another One Bites the Dust
Friday, September 15, 2017
Emma should have suspected that the capture wasn't going to be that easy. She didn't even have time to address the skipper. The moment his eyes fell on her, the guy ran away like a bat out of hell. Shit!
So it was going to be one of those days... Emma resigned herself and did the only thing she could do, run after him. Her body at least seemed to accompany her — or maybe it was the desire to conclude this case. She kept the pace, at least for the first few minutes, but the asshole was in very good shape, and even though she was forcing her body up to its limit, the distance between them increased.
Her legs were starting to feel heavy, she was running out of breath and her lungs were burning from the exertion. Her frustration and anger were what kept fueling her to continue the persecution. Luckily the guy had gone into a nearby park, because she wouldn't be able to deal with passersby or worse, with traffic.
She ran and ran in a frantic race, crossing the park at full speed, her heart threatening to get out of her rib cage while frustration grew in her as she watched the guy get farther and farther away.
Her long-awaited opportunity came just as she was about to give up. The guy found a stairway in his path and had to slow down as he descended. Emma did not think twice and acted impulsively, accelerating and shortening the distance until he finally came within reach. Without taking any time to assimilate the possible consequences of her act, she literally jumped on him, grabbing him by the jacket at the last moment.
In retrospect, she should have kept her mind cold or not act so recklessly, without assessing the risks of her actions. At that time, though, her urge to get home was what prompted her to act that way. And she would have achieved her goal if it were not for something as ordinary as gravity, or as the saying goes, what goes up must come down. She and her prey were not going to be an exception, of course.
The impact on the ground was brutal. Both her head and her left shoulder collided with the hard surface, getting to knock the air out of her lungs and causing her vision to blur and her mind to become foggy.
The numbness caused by the blow prevented her limbs from responding but at least she was able to maintain her grip on the guy. She thanked all the deities she did not believe in since the man was not fighting to get free, probably also affected by the impact.
She needed air. Both the race and the impact had caused her lungs to empty and now she was having difficulty reintroducing oxygen into her system. Shit! She also needed to handcuff the guy before it was too late. The last thing she wanted was for him to escape. She could not fail, not after taking so many risks. But she was so exhausted and her mind so numb that she was unable to think correctly or even move.
"You bitch, get away from me!" The muffled voice of the man reached her ears, as she felt him begin to stir under her grip. A wave of panic seized her as she tried to give orders to her brain to act. In vain. Just as the guy started to squeeze, loosening her hold, a shadow appeared at their side. Leroy. Thank God.
She would never be as grateful as at that moment for Graham's idea to install a tracking system on their devices while they were staking out. That was the reason why Leroy had managed to catch up with them just in time. He clearly was not as fit as she was, because the poor man appeared a little agitated, cheeks flushed and breathing ragged. He was hunched over, resting his hands on his knees while trying to catch his breath after the unexpected sprint.
"Holy shit sister, that was quite a jump." He addressed her between gasps. "So, another one bites the dust, eh?"
It was odd in Leroy to show his emotions, but, despite her condition, Emma could detect a hint of pride in his voice. The blow must have been stronger than she thought, because that wasn't possible, was it?
The moment the perp caught sight of Leroy he made an attempt to get up, so Emma had no choice but to use the little energy she had left in tightening the grip, ignoring the intense pain she had begun to feel in her left arm.
Leroy recovered quickly from the race, as he hastened to pull out the handcuffs, taking her place and grabbing the guy. Only then did she slip away and sit up quickly, anxious to get away from the asshole. Big mistake.
Her head began to spin as she felt her ears pulsing and her vision blurred. Shit! Could it be that she had gotten a concussion? No, it couldn't be. It was just the blow, wasn't it?
"Easy there, sister, need help?" She ignored Leroy's worried voice and instead focused on trying to fill her lungs with air while closing her eyes to keep everything from spinning around. It was then that she noticed a warm liquid sliding down the left side of her face. Thinking it might be a drop of sweat, she raised her hand to wipe it away, feeling a shock wave of pain through her arm towards her shoulder. She gasped in pain while holding her left arm with the other hand. Shit, shit, shit!
"You're bleeding, Emma. I'm calling Graham." Emma barely registered Leroy's words, too focused on keeping her breathing stable and not moving her arm. What she did hear was the guy's grumble.
"She is not the only one, look at my face." The guy barked. "You crazy woman, you've managed to break my nose, bitch!" Emma glanced sideways in his direction to find the guy handcuffed to a nearby bench, a torrent of blood slipping through his nose. In other circumstances, she would have thrown a proper retort, or she would have made a significant gesture with one of her fingers. On this occasion, though, she simply ignored him as she accepted the tissue Leroy was handing her.
"What the hell happened here?"
Graham's unexpected voice caused her to wince since she didn't expect him to show up so soon. For some reason, a strange sensation settled in the pit of her stomach. Far from being proud of the success of the mission, she felt weak and somehow a bit frustrated. Yes, she had gotten the guy, but if it hadn't been for Leroy, she wouldn't have been able to keep him from running away. She hated feeling this vulnerable and helpless. Certainly, her headache and shoulder pain didn't help.
"I... I just fell." She mumbled, her eyes cast down to the floor. She wasn't in the mood to handle Graham's worried look.
"You just fell?" Even without looking at him, Emma could imagine his stance, his hands on his hips as he watched her through his narrow eyes. Gods! She hated these situations.
"She flew, literally, boss. It was quite a catch."
Thanks for your contribution. She had to suppress both a snort and the desire to glare at Leroy. Not that it would have had much effect. The only thing she would have gotten would have been a grimace, with probably several wounds adorning her bloody — literal —face.
There was an awkward pause while Emma tried to avoid eye contact with her boss. The silence was only broken by the complaints of the asshole who had put her in that situation.
"Emma, are you okay?" Graham tried again.
"Yeah, yeah. It was just a knock, I'll be fine." Emma said in an unconvincing tone as she felt Graham approaching her. Her heart began to beat strongly as she bit her lower lip. She shuddered when she realized too late that, of course, she had also split her lip. Great. Just Great.
"No, you're not fine. Emma, look at me." Graham demanded as he gently grabbed her left arm causing intense pain to run up to her shoulder, an involuntary gasp escaping her mouth. He loosened his grip immediately. "Did you hurt your arm?"
There was so much concern in his voice that she could not help but look up at him. Another mistake. Both his intense scrutiny and serious expression caused her stomach to tighten in knots as the headache increased. She was not used to these kinds of displays towards her. Far from making her feel protected they made her feel vulnerable, weak. She was strong, she did not need anyone to take care of her.
"I'm fine." The words came out in a tone perhaps too sharp, but she couldn't care less at that moment. She just wanted to get home to lie down curled up in a ball and sleep until the next day. Everything would be better then. It should be.
"Emma, we should go to the hospital, I can take you." Graham insisted, approaching her tentatively again.
"No." No way was she going to the emergency room. Not when she had lived such unpleasant experiences in the past there. She wanted to go home. Unfortunately, she could not just run away since she would not be able to drive in her condition. Shit. Shit. "Could you... could you take me home?"
"Emma ..."
"Okay, I'll take a cab." She assured in a defiant tone as she held his gaze. There was something characteristic in Graham's eyes, honesty. She could clearly see the conflict he was suffering just by looking at his gaze. She was also able to see the moment when he gave up, the glow in his eyes faded slightly.
He let out a heavy sigh as he ran his hand over his face. "Fine, I'll take you home." Next, he addressed Leroy in his characteristic professional tone. "Take care of our perp. Let me know when you get rid of him."
As Graham informed her, he had tracked them by driving rather than following them on the run. She didn't mention it, but she couldn't be more grateful, since she was feeling increasingly weak and her head kept spinning, preventing her from being fully aware of what was happening around her. The sooner they got to the vehicle and she dropped into the seat, the better.
She counted as a small victory the fact that she was able to fasten the seat belt without help. The moment the car began to move, she closed her eyes and snuggled into the seat, turning her face to the side window. That didn't stop her from feeling Graham's penetrating gaze on her from time to time. At least he had the deference to keeping silent.
That oppressive silence also had its disadvantages as it stopped possible distractions, giving free rein to her brain, despite the numbness, to recreate old experiences that she would prefer to forget. She was aware that sooner or later she would have to go to the hospital if she wanted her shoulder to be fixed. Even so, the mere thought of going there caused a wave of nausea to crawl up her throat. In the end, her weakness was stronger than her, the memory of her last visit to the emergency room three years ago too powerful to be repressed.
//
Everything hurt.
Emma woke with a start, a strangled sound in her throat and eyes wide open. A sense of uneasiness took hold of her, as she felt unable to discern where she was, while the brightness that surrounded her caused her eyes to squeeze shut.
She instinctively turned her head to avoid the source of light, keeping her eyes closed as she forced the rest of her senses to work for answers. Gradually, she began to regain awareness, flashes of what had put her in this situation coming to her mind sporadically.
Her new state of consciousness also brought her something unpleasant. Pain. She felt her whole body sore. It was as if someone was drilling her skull from inside and, in turn, as if she had a band pressing on both sides of her head. She also felt like a dull ache in her left arm, as if it had been numb and gradually began to wake up, like a foretaste of what would be a much more intense pain.
She was in a hospital. She did not even have to open her eyes to know it. The unmistakable smell of something similar to disinfectant penetrated her nostrils, while the rough touch of the sheets that covered her scraped her skin. She also felt an intravenous line on her right wrist while her left arm remained immobilized.
She had fallen. Her brain had worked through the haze that had settled there allowing her access to her memories. She had been running, chasing after a guy who had skipped bail when suddenly something —no, someone — had gotten in her way near the Orpheum Theater. She had had to dodge the person to avoid hitting her with the subsequent consequence that she had not only lost the perp but that she had stumbled and fallen, hitting her arm in her descent on some sort of bollard.
A wave of panic washed over her when she realized something else. She had never lost consciousness after the fall. Yes, she had also hit her head, but she had been fully aware of everything, of the intense pain in her arm that had led her to have to grab a cab. Even she remembered having arrived at the hospital on her own. Why then did she feel as if she had just woken up? Why did she feel her throat dry and a sense of continuous nausea?
A new flash appeared in her mind, helping her to clear up her confusion. Her arm had broken so badly that she had needed surgery to fix the bones. A sound, half a groan half a sigh came out of her mouth when she realized that she would have to stay there for a while longer when all she wanted was to go home and snuggle in her bed.
Just then the door to the room opened giving way to who seemed to be a doctor or nurse. After the opportune introductions, the doctor confirmed that fortunately, everything had gone well and that she would be released soon, but she would have to spend at least that night in the hospital under supervision.
"So Miss Swan, we have not seen any names listed as an emergency contact. Would you like to inform someone?” Although the doctor addressed her in a polite tone, with a gentle smile on her face, she did not miss the glimpse of pity masked in her kind words.
No, she didn't have anyone. She didn't need anyone. It wasn't a big deal, she would spend the damn night there and return to her apartment the next day to continue her life as always. Why then did she feel more alone than ever? Why did she feel a lump forming in her throat and her chest constricted? She should be used to it. She had always been alone, why should it be any different now?
Her inner voice was the one answering for her. It was not the fact of spending the night alone but the realization that there was no one in this world who cared about what could happen to her. She did not even have a boss since she worked on her own. She could have hit her head in the fall and died. And her death would not have had consequences. Nobody would feel her absence, nobody would miss her.
She was all alone.
At least she didn't have a hospital roommate. She wouldn't have to witness potential visitors entering the room that would never be intended for her. It was a poor comfort, but she needed to hold onto something to calm the growing uneasiness that was bubbling inside her.
"Miss Swan, are you alright?"
The doctor's worried voice brought her back to reality. She realized that she hadn't answered her initial question. As painful as it was, she owed her an answer so, before replying, Emma took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to pull herself together.
"I'm fine, just tired." Emma immediately hated how her voice sounded, broken and defeated. She swallowed, pressing her lips together and blinking a couple of times to keep her emotions at bay. "And there's no need to inform anyone, thank you."
Her gaze drifted to the window in an attempt to avoid the doctor's more than likely expression of pity. "Are you sure? Keep in mind that when you're discharged, you may need help for a while, since your arm will still be healing."
"I'll be fine." She mused without bothering to look at her as she silently implored the doctor to leave her alone. She owed no explanation to anyone. She did not need anyone.
The doctor seemed to catch the hint, since after a few more words of courtesy she finally left the room, leaving Emma alone with her ghosts. After letting out a heavy sigh, she clenched her jaw and squeezed her eyes closed in an attempt to invoke the sleep, ignoring the spiral of feelings dancing inside her.
She would be fine, as always.
Although Emma would never admit it, her brief hospital stay had an effect on her beyond an injured arm, a few hours of rehabilitation and a deeper hole in her heart. Since she was not going to be able to work for a while, she decided to take some additional web design classes while considering a change in her profession prospects.
That change never occurred, but at least she was determined to make some adjustments in her life, no matter how subtle they were. She began to feel that usual pull in her guts, indicating that the time to run had arrived. There was nothing in Phoenix that could tie her to the city anymore.
Several months after her accident, she applied for a job offer in Boston at a small bail bond business.
When she got the job, she packed the few belongings she had and headed for her new destination without looking back. She told herself that she was tired of working on her own, that maybe it was time to have someone else's support, even in the form of a boss. The reality was that although she still felt the thick walls around her heart, a tiny crack, barely a scratch on the surface, had begun to form. Only time would tell if that almost imperceptible fissure became bigger or if on the contrary, she would have to add even more bricks to her protective shield, when the betrayal or abandonment would visit her again irrevocably.
//
"Emma? Still with me?"
Graham's unexpected words caused her to jump up in her seat, as the vestiges of her memories faded slowly bringing her back to reality. Even in her semi-reverie state, Emma was able to detect a hint of concern in his voice, as if he wanted to make sure she was still conscious.
"Just resting." She mumbled, returning to her initial position, with her head turned toward the side window and her eyes closed. The journey to her past had brought with it a sense of deja-vu from which she hadn't been able to detach herself, increasing her desire to get home and shut herself away from the world for a while. The trip was taking too long, though, and she felt increasingly uncomfortable under Graham's scrutiny.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, she noticed how the car slowed down. Emma had every intention of running away the moment the car stopped completely, but Graham was faster, addressing her before she even reached the door handle.
"Emma, wait."
Emma had no choice but to suppress her desire to escape. Instead, she turned her head reluctantly to look at Graham while holding back a sigh of resignation. His serious expression and his frown of concern did nothing to alleviate her sense of uneasiness.
"You're a tough woman, I get it. But you don't have to go through this alone. Your shoulder is probably dislocated and you have a nasty bruise on your head. You should be checked." He insisted on a firm voice.
Her body decided to betray her before she even had time to reply, sending a new wave of pain to her shoulder. Emma pressed her lips together to stifle the whimper, but Graham's intent gaze didn't seem to miss her suffering.
"Emma, you are clearly in pain, stop being so stubborn, and let me take you to the hospital." There was a hint of pleading in his voice, but it was also evident that he was losing patience. She did not blame him, but the fog in her brain prevented her from correctly processing the situation, her only thought was to get home, get into bed and forget about everything for a while.
"Nothing that can’t be relieved by a painkiller, I'm fine Graham." She snapped in a tone perhaps too harsh, but she was also losing her patience. To emphasize her words, she held his gaze defiantly until finally, Graham seemed to give up, letting out a deep sigh as he ran a hand over his face.
"Fine, you win." She suppressed the desire to raise her fist in triumph and instead went to open the door, but Graham's words stopped her again. "At least promise me you're going to call Killian."
Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes widened slightly when she heard his name. A wave of something like self-reproach washed over her when she realized that she hadn't thought of her boyfriend all this time, which was somewhat ironic since she had gotten into this situation precisely because of her desire to reunite with him. Or maybe her subconscious had deliberately pushed him out of her mind, because the mere thought of Killian finding out what had happened and realizing about her condition caused her stomach to tighten into knots, a new wave of nausea creeping up to her throat.
"Emma..." Graham warned her again.
He is going to have a heart attack. If Graham's reaction had been a bit excessive, she didn't even want to imagine how Killian would react.
"Call Killian or I'll call him, I mean it."
At this point, she was going to accept any of his requests if it meant that she could finally get out of the damn car. She was beginning to feel suffocated in there.
"Fine, I'll call him. May I go now?"
The wrinkle of concern was still deep in between his eyebrows, but at least his lips drew the ghost of a smile. "Tell me if you need me to pick up your car, okay? And take care, Emma, please."
Emma simply nodded in a barely perceptible movement and finally — finally — got out of the vehicle. As she walked towards the entrance to her building a weird thought crossed her mind. At least her lower limbs had not been affected. She noticed a certain weakness in her knees, but at least she wasn't limping. The picture she would have offered would have been quite pathetic in that case, dragging one leg, with her face half-covered in blood and holding the wounded arm with the other hand. She should even feel lucky. Pretty fantastic.
She wasn’t going to call Killian. Nope.
Even in her more than likely state of concussion, she was aware of her mixed feelings colliding inside her.
A sense of mild panic settled in the pit of her stomach at the uncertainty of how Killian would react when he saw her.
Her little inner voice seemed to whisper that he would worry, and that he was going to take care of her. But that voice was silenced by her overwhelming emotions. It wasn't so easy to get rid of that sense of vulnerability, which spread throughout her body, as a reminder of what it would be to rely on someone, to blindly trust someone and risk that person decided at some point that it had been enough, acting like everyone else before and leaving her alone with her heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
That feeling clashed with the fear of experiencing the same sensation of loneliness as when she had visited the hospital for the last time.
Given her growing weakness, she did not seem able to fight against those thoughts or position herself in favor of any of them. The fog inside her head was getting thicker and she could not move her arm without generating a wave of pain. She needed to rest, close her eyes and allow her brain to stop working for a few hours. But first, she needed painkillers.
She was on her way to the bathroom to grab the first-aid kit when her phone started buzzing, causing a jolt in her. She cursed while maneuvering with her good hand to pull the device out of the compartment from under her shirt. The call ended before she could reach the phone and she almost thanked it because —how could it be otherwise?— it was Killian calling her.
Emma noted with some surprise that there were several unread messages and a few missed calls. She had been so focused on her discomfort and the mixed feelings haunting her that she hadn't even noticed the phone until now that she was surrounded by silence.
She didn't have time to read the messages received when the phone began to buzz again. Definitely, the blow in the head had seriously affected her brain as she found herself unable to give her hand the right orders, her thumb acting on its own and sliding down the screen to answer the call. Before she could say a word in greeting, Killian's agitated voice reached her ears.
"Emma? Thank God! I was starting to freak out since you didn't answer any of my messages." Her eyes filled with tears just listening to his voice. Gods! She had missed him. One part of her wanted only to feel his presence by her side, his intoxicating scent, his protective arms around her. The other part, however, was the one that seemed to be taking the initiative.
"I was in a chase. You know."
"I know, I know. But since you're answering, I guess it's over now, right?" After a brief pause, Killian continued talking without giving her time to reply. "Are you on your way to my apartment or do you prefer me to go to yours?" Her heart constricted in her chest upon hearing how happy and relieved he sounded. Before answering, she bit her lower lip hard, not caring that it started bleeding again.
"About that—" Her voice trailed off as she cleared her throat trying to sound a little more steady. "—I'm quite tired after the chase, so I prefer to stay at home and rest."
She must have sound convincing enough because Killian replied by maintaining his jovial tone. "No problem. Let me grab something to eat and I'll be there in half an hour."
Let him, let him. Her inner voice begged. For a moment she was tempted to do so, her body craving his touch after several days of being separated. But then she remembered the state she was in and a wave of panic in the form of nausea crawled up to her throat. In the end, her irrational fear stood out, causing her old habits to resurface.
"I meant alone." This time Killian did seem to detect her harsh tone. For a moment the line was silent, while Emma held her breath and bite her lip again waiting for his reaction.
"What's going on, Swan?" He asked finally, any trace of joy in his voice suddenly vanished, giving way to a tone of concern that did nothing to mitigate her inner turmoil. She had no choice but to do what she did best, get defensive.
"Nothing. I'm so damn tired that I just want to go to sleep."
"I could help you relax." He tried again with that suggestive voice of his, causing her skin to tingle at the mere idea of how he could help her in that regard.
Before she could respond, though, a new wave of pain ran up to her shoulder. She had to press her lips together to prevent a gasp from escaping from her mouth and reaching Killian's ears. Instead, she took two deep breaths in an attempt to pull herself together.
"I'm serious, Killian. I'm not in the mood today." She hoped her slightly trembling voice wouldn't give her away.
Again an oppressive silence hovered over them, only cut by a heavy sigh on the other side of the line. "What's wrong, Swan? I'm quite perceptive and I know something isn't right. So tell me."
Far from making her confess, his demanding tone caused her impulse to hide behind her protective shield to become more intense. She was not used to this and didn't know what the right way to act was, but what she did know was that she owed no explanation to anyone.
"I'm fine. I just wanna go to sleep." She snapped. This whole situation was getting on her nerves. Her physical condition did not help in the least, her headache increased at times. She was serious when she said she just wanted to sleep, but Killian seemed not to have caught the hint, since he insisted and insisted.
"Did something go wrong in the chase? Are you hurt? Is Graham with you?" Before she could reply he continued, his voice sounding more and more worried. "And don't tell me you're fine, because I'm not buying it, Swan. Not when we haven't seen each other for five days and a couple of hours ago we had already agreed to meet today. So what has changed? Tell me, Emma, please. What's going on?"
Tell him, tell him, tell him.
I can't. I don't know how to do it.
"I will call you tomorrow."
"Don't push me away. Talk to me, Emma, please." He begged, causing a wave of guilt to settle in her stomach. She had screwed everything up with that reckless movement and put them both in such an unpleasant situation that she didn't even know how to react, so she acted by habit, attacking.
"Stop controlling me. You're not my father."
"Of course not. I would never abandon you."
His words acted like a dart piercing her heart. He was right, though and maybe she deserved that low blow, but that didn't stop his reply from inflicting an even deeper pain than the physical she was already feeling, since it was nothing more than a reminder of what she always would be, an orphan.
"Gods Emma. I didn't...I'm so—"
"No." She didn't need to hear his apologies. Not now, maybe never. She was so furious and frustrated that she was tempted to press the button to end the call without any warning. Although she was a real mess at this time, at least a glimmer of lucidity appeared in her brain, reminding her of the issues he had with abruptly terminated phone calls, one of the crosses he had to bear due to the post-traumatic stress disorder he suffered. She wasn't that cruel. "I'm going to hang up now."
She didn't need anyone. She clenched her jaw and hardened her features, dropping the phone on the couch and then headed for the bathroom. Her determination was short-lived, though, especially when she realized how difficult it was to function with only one hand. Even more so when the lid of the damn first aid kit seemed to be blocked and she found herself unable to open it.
The back of her eyes began to sting as the growing frustration gripped her, but she blinked furiously, preventing tears from spilling. She had always managed well by herself. What if she couldn't reach the antiseptic? She could simply use water and some tissues.
That was when she finally decided to look in the mirror. A gasp escaped from her mouth the moment her eyes fell on her reflection, the urge to cry appearing again. Her face was a mess. She had gotten a nasty wound above her left eyebrow that was still bleeding a little. In addition to her split lip, there was also a bruise and several small cuts on her cheek, probably caused by the rough pavement of the park and her left eye appeared partially swollen. A small sigh of defeat slipped between her lips, but she forced herself to regain her composure, moistening one of the tissues and beginning to wipe away the blood that had already begun to dry.
Her facade of a tough girl weakened at the moment when her eyes met with the eyes from her reflection in the mirror. It was as if her own reflection was recriminating her for her poor way of acting and her inability to handle the situation correctly.
"You should have told him.”
“I don't need him. Or anyone.”
Great. Now she had begun a silent argument with her own reflection. She had definitely gone insane after the blow to the head.
“So you don't need anyone. How are you supposed to open the first aid kit? How are you going to fix your shoulder?”
“I'll figure it out.”
"No, you won't. You're used to acting on your own. I get it. But you're not alone anymore. What are you afraid of?”
Thick tears began to slide down her cheeks, clouding her vision and blurring the image that the mirror returned. She was afraid of feeling too much, of giving someone else the power to destroy her. But she was also afraid of herself, because no matter how much she masked it, she couldn't help feeling like a failure. It had been her own irresponsibility that had put her in this mess and she seemed unable to get out of it.
Her reflection did not seem to have compassion, as it continued to attack her by throwing reality in her face.
"How would you have acted if he had been in your position?”
The mere idea of Killian injured caused a feeling of unease to crawl up and form a lump in her throat, while her heart tightened in her chest.
“I would have panicked.”
"Just like him. It's what happens when you love someone, you worry. And he loves you, Emma.”
"He has never admitted it out loud.”
“Maybe not with words, but his actions speak for him. You love him and he loves you. You have nothing to fear. Call him. Let someone take care of you for once. You deserve it.”
"Oh God. I'm such an idiot." She squeezed her eyes closed as she pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to keep the tears from falling. She took a trembling breath as she tried to slow the rapid beat of her heart. Once she seemed to have calmed down enough, she looked at herself in the mirror again. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips while her head moved slightly, nodding in encouragement. After one last look at her reflection, she headed back to the living room and grabbed her phone, looking for Killian's chat window.
She wasn't surprised to see some missed calls and several messages, but she ignored them for the moment and concentrated on typing with one hand.
I 'm sorry. Do you still want to come to my apartment?
His response was immediate.
I'm the one who should apologize. I'll be there in twenty minutes if that's fine with you.
It’s ok. Thanks.
Her heart fluttered at the mere thought of seeing him again. Although the fear of his possible reaction was still latent, now that she seemed to have finally dared to overcome one of her concerns, she couldn't wait to see him. There was no doubt that those twenty minutes were going to become eternal.
She didn't have to wait that long, luckily. Seventeen minutes later someone knocked on her door. Her stomach tightened into knots as her heart skipped a beat, but she hurried to open the door. She just hoped he didn't get a heart attack when he saw her face.
//
Thanks for reading, let me know what you think :)
The next chapter will come in a few days, this time with both Killian and Emma's POV.
@rouhn @couldnthandleit @teamhook @malec4everr @ijustwantyoucaskett-always@kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @suwya @thisonesatellite @lfh1962
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