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professorthaddeus · 3 years

Text

Out of Sight

This is a companion piece to @io-kj-cr‘s heartbreaking fic, Decisions, an AU of 2x128 where Caleb gives himself up to Trent. Would highly recommend checking it out!

also on ao3

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They let him go.

The chips were down, they were out of options with enemies at the door, Mama and Yeza and little Luc were not going to be trapped in a building with Icky-thong, and in that moment of weakness, they let him go.

“Cad, what do you see?” Fjord, grim. Caduceus is standing at the one window in the room, chosen for his keen ability to read people to keep an eye on the exchange.

The exchange. They’re selling Caleb back to the grossest person in the Empire, to his literal lifelong tormentor, and they’re just sitting here like it’s nothing.

“They’re not hurting him. They’re just talking.” Caduceus’ voice rumbles in a steady cadence, ever the rock in the rapids. But Jester sees how his knuckles are clenched white around his staff.

“Is he… how does he look?”

Veth, piping up from the floor, clutching Caleb’s spellbooks to her chest. Yeza’s holding her, Luc sitting uncharacteristically still by their side. He’s got a book in his hands as well. Jester’s heart thuds painfully when she recognizes the title as a collection of Zemnian fairy tales.

“He’s standing tall.”

Of course he is. They’ve all seen Caleb file away his fears and stitch himself together in the moments that really count. They’ve also seen him shake apart immediately afterwards.

This time, none of them are going to be there to help him pick up the pieces.

“This doesn’t sit well with me,” Yasha says quietly, fingers twitching toward her swords.

“Yeah, no shit.” Beau, pacing, coiled like she’s ready to pounce. “This was such a bad plan. I say we go ahead and attack them now. They’re busy with Caleb, so we could absolutely ambush them in a pincer move, or—“

“They’re gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Beau rushes to the window, where Caduceus is stepping aside. He leans back against the wall, looking lost in a way Jester hasn’t seen since his first time on the sea.

“I mean he and his friends stepped into a portal and disappeared.”

Beau’s jaw tightens. “They’re not his friends.”

“I don’t know,” Fjord murmurs, though Jester knows he would definitely be fuming as well if Beau wasn’t so close to the edge right now. “They did warn us they were coming.” He holds up his hands when Beau shoots him a withering look. “It could be a good thing. They might help us get him back.”

“With or without their help, I wasn’t kidding when I said our next step was going to be a jailbreak,” she mutters.

“Agreed.”

Veth lets out a shaky breath. “And he’ll be okay until then. He just has to hold on for one night, and we’ll go get him. He’s the smartest, most capable of us all; he’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, he’s way more powerful than them,” Jester adds, automatic. Something twists in her chest.

“Sure, except he doesn’t even have his fucking spellbooks.”

For once, Veth flinches instead of snapping a retort back at Beau.

“You keep these safe for me until I return, ja?”

“I don’t like this, Cay. There has to be another way.” There’s a tremor in Veth’s hands as she takes the books.

“There isn’t, and we are running out of time. Besides, he won’t kill me. He… ah, he has said many times already he simply wishes to talk.”

Jester winces. It’s going to be a long time before she forgets the haunted look that appeared in Caleb’s eyes every time Trent’s voice slithered into his ear today.

“Be good for your mother and father,” Caleb’s saying, ruffling Luc’s hair.

He straightens to look at the rest of them, meeting their eyes one by one. Jester can almost hear him counting in his head.

A wall slams down over his expression as he squares his shoulders.

“I am so sorry about all this.” He continues before any of them can protest. “Thank you all.”

Jester tries not to think it sounds like a goodbye.

She shoves the image of Caleb’s pale, determined face out of her head, swallowing the building lump in her throat. The last thing she needs—the last thing Mama needs—is for her to break down right now.

“Well,” she hedges into the silence, “he’s got like, a really good memory, you guys. Maybe he doesn’t need them. Maybe he remembers all his spells.”

“I don’t—“ Beau starts, before taking a deep breath. Yasha’s hand is slipping into hers. She softens her tone. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Jes.”

“Oh.”

“Jester, I’m so sorry.” Mama speaks up from where she’s been sitting anxiously beside her. There’s so much regret in her face. “Your friend, he—”

“No, no, Mama, no.” She’s been so strong today, and Jester’s so, so proud of her for facing her fears, but she never should have been forced to do it. “This isn’t your fault at all. We brought them to you.”

Technically, she brought them here. Caleb can blame himself all he wants, but Jester’s the one who put a target on Nicodranas in that letter to Astrid all those months ago and the one who dropped Mama’s name into a conversation with an enemy guard just a few hours ago.

“Who… are they?”

“They’re, um.” Her voice wavers. She swallows again. “They’re bad people. Really, really bad people.”

“Oh, my Sapphire,” Mama hums, and it’s kind of crazy how those three words can sound like music from her lips. She reaches up to cup Jester’s cheek. “You and your friends are some of the most amazing people I’ve met. “And you,” she brushes her thumb gently across her skin, “are more creative than anyone in the world. You’ll find a way.”

Mama presses a kiss to the top of her head and then takes her hands. They’re smooth, warm. Jester looks down. Red and blue, just like when she was little, except now her hands can’t be fully covered by Mama’s. She’s grown up and stepped out of Mama’s arms and the sanctuary of their Chateau. Just like she always dreamed and plotted with Artie. It’s all she can do not to cry.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” she manages, tries for a watery smile.

“Jester,” Yasha ventures gingerly. “Can’t you talk to him?”

She shakes her head, blinking away the blurriness. “Not until tomorrow. I don’t have the energy left to cast a spell.”

Caduceus clears his throat. “Good.” The rest of them look to him, startled. “Now there’s nothing to do but get some sleep so we’ll be ready for tomorrow. Mr. Wensforth, can you help us set something up for the night?”

The poor goblin looks up from where he’s been wringing his hands in the corner. Jester doesn’t blame him.

Man, Yussa’s gonna be super pissed when he wakes up to find so many people in his tower.

She can’t imagine how she’s supposed to fall asleep, but Caduceus makes her drink some tea, and eventually she feels the tension of the day seep into her bones. Before it claims her consciousness, she brings the symbol of the Traveler to her chest.

“Artie, look out for him, okay?”

———

In the morning, Beau and Caduceus wake her and the others, careful not to disturb Mama, Yeza, or Luc.

Jester tucks the blanket around Mama a little more securely before heading out.

They all cluster together in a smaller room off of one of the tower’s winding stairwells. Caduceus starts passing around breakfast, but she declines, sitting in the middle of the floor instead and prepping a familiar spell.

Fjord gives her an encouraging nod, holding ten fingers up at the ready.

She focuses on the image of her friend, on the furrow in his brow as he wields magic like a weapon, on the way his eyes crinkle when he offers one of his soft, rare smiles. She fires up Sending.

“Caleb! Are you alright? Where are you? Are you hurt? Are you in Rexxentrum? I’m sorry, I had to wait until today to Send to reach you but we’re—”

Fjord’s nudging her, signaling the end of the spell. Jester blows a strand of hair out of her face, tapping her fingers against her knee.

She waits five seconds, ten, a minute. No response.

She bites her lip. “You guys—”

Beau’s there already, tugging her into a hug as Fjord gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Veth lets out a muffled noise of frustration.

“He could just not be in a place where he can talk freely right now, we don’t know,” Caduceus says evenly.

“Maybe I should try Astrid?”

Beau shifts, but she doesn’t let go. “I dunno, man, I don’t trust her.”

“She loves Caleb,” Veth says, but again, none of her usual ferocity is there.

“Yeah, maybe.” Beau’s face darkens. “And now she has him back.”

Her words hang heavy in the air.

Jester shakes herself. “Look, fuck it, I’m just going to do it.” She takes a deep breath.

“Astrid,” she chirps. “Is Caleb with you? Tell him to talk to me when he can. Oh also, if any of you hurt him, we’re totally gonna find you and make sure you never—”

“That’s it, Jester.”

“You should send another one. Let her hear the end of your threat,” Yasha says, and Jester swears she can hear thunder roll beneath the mild suggestion.

Fjord cracks something resembling a smile. “As entertaining as that would be, I think—“

Jester shushes them as Astrid’s voice comes back.

Good morning, Jester. Bren is well and unharmed. He is here with us and under no restraints or compulsion. He is home now.

Jester growls.

“What did she say?”

“That Caleb’s okay and like, he’s home, or some total bullshit. She’s wrong, obviously.” She has to be. Jester ignores the building pressure in her chest, flicks her wrist to cast again.

“Please, tell me something, tell me anything, tell me you’re fine, or dead, but please, we need to hear from you, we need to plan our next moves and we can get you out of there as long as you just—” Fjord squeezes her hand. Stupid, stupid spell with stupid word limits.

Nothing on the other end anyway. Her eyes sting, and this time, Jester doesn’t try to stop the sob in her throat.

“I’ll keep messaging you, please Caleb, we’re scared and worried, please tell us where you are, we can fix this, we can get you back!”

Finally, finally, Caleb speaks.

I am well, Jester; returning was my decision, and I am unharmed.

He sounds so tired.

I need you all to stay away. Stay safe. I am sorry.

Silence once more.

Jester’s messages have reached across thousands of miles, over oceans and barren wastelands and enemy lines. This is the first time she’s felt the yawning distance the magic has to travel.

She swipes at her eyes, glaring through her tears.

She knows what he’s doing. It’s what he’s always done, protect and shield and give and give and give like it’s all he’s good for. But she’s also seen him start to unfurl, seen him laugh more and trust more and take one careful step after another out of the shadows of his past. He knows he’s part of their family. They just need to help him remember what that means.

“He said something,” Veth guesses.

“Something awful and self-sacrificing?” Beau mutters.

“Yeah.”

Jester pushes back her sleeves, and she can feel a breeze drift into the chamber, the rustle of a green cloak at her side.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re going to get him, now.”

#critical role #jester lavorre #caleb widogast #marion lavorre #beauregard lionett #veth brenatto #fjord #caduceus clay #yasha nydoorin #my writing #jester's pov was such a challenge to write omfg #also juggling 6+ characters in a scene for my first cr fic haha #any feedback is much appreciated as I find my footing w these characters #also a huge thank you to io-kj-cr for inspiring me and giving me permission to post this!#my ramblings #cr fic

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cattles-bians · 3 years

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damie vibecca exes au part 6

post directory

em: i like the contrast of like. dani and viola ended v emotionally and raw and then jamie rebecca was like, probably extremely civil, amicable

obsetress: yeah!!!! it fits

em: still awkward but absolutely not as tragic as the danvi

obsetress: they're both too similar

obsetress: like dani and vi and rebecca and jamie

obsetress: which is why they just needed to

obsetress: trade

em: which is so funny bc if like. lemme just maths this out

em: ok if dani and vi are both A and rebecca and jamie are both B so jamie and dani are B and A, and rebecca and viola are B and A

em: also implies the existence of a compatible jamie viola and dani rebecca

obsetress: see i was thinking about that and like

obsetress: on paper

obsetress: yeah

em: which is NOT the case

obsetress: but in reality???? the least compatible of all three which is. hilarious

em: viola jamie hate fuck when but i think rebecca and dani would have a weird lack of chemistry

obsetress: agreed

em: too similar in a different way!

obsetress: vi dani similar in the right way dani becs similar in the wrong way

obsetress: but vi becs different in the right way

obsetress: also another belated c/p but

obsetress: after becs and vi have that conversation and becca is like can i see pics of ur daughter and i'd love to meet her someday

obsetress: vi is 100% like "do you wanna get out of here?" and they go back to her place but then they just

obsetress: snuggle on the couch and fall asleep together and it's the first time they've done that w/o having sex first

obsetress: soft!

em: babies...........

obsetress: just this, like, image of the two of them on viola's couch with their feet tucked underneath their legs with her dumb floor to ceiling windows overlooking london and a roaring fire in a fireplace in front of them and two whiskey glasses on the table and

obsetress: viola's looking at her in a way she hasn't looked at anyone in a long time and rebecca is smiling softly over at her and then they're leaning slowly in

obsetress: im gonna be sick

em: oh

obsetress: they're kissing soft then pulling away and rebecca's eyes are still closed when she's whispering "this might be something, mightn't it?" and viola's whispering "i think it is"

em: oh to be invested in the rarest of rarepairs

---

obsetress: brain update

obsetress: has now moved from soft to

obsetress: viola and rebecca going to all these dumb boutique fitness classes together

em: dumb boutique fitness classes jahskdhdkd

obsetress: they would tho in their dumb sports bras and high waisted leggings

em: dani power squats. jamie does a bodyweight workout and complains the whole time

em: oh

em: love that for them

em: and me, imagining it

obsetress: vi and rebecca are the ones in the dumb sports bras and leggings

em: they match. they coordinate gym outfits

obsetress: PLEASE

obsetress: hers and hers lululemon

em: it’s disgusting and unfortunately too attractive

obsetress: too! attractive!

obsetress: wheres that

obsetress: [this links to an instagram post by tahirah sharif]

obsetress: also belly button ring belly button ring belly button ring b

em: ma’am ur navel

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: dani and jamie meeting them outside whatever dumb lil gym and dani's stopping dead in her tracks and blinking at them

obsetress: jamie has to elbow her to get her to close her mouth

obsetress: they're following them inside and jamie's mumbling "keep it in your pants, yeah?" "but they look hot" "yeah, i fuckin know they look hot, i––"

em: i love a couple that's like, yknow. jamie and dani both know they’re still gonna find women hot

obsetress: it is So Important

em: even if dani didn’t have too much bad sex w eddie she’s allowed to think women hot

em: danis catching FLIES

em: danis like why did u and becs break up. how did u let her go

obsetress: WAIT LKSDFJLSDFl KJ

obsetress: i got SO INVESTED in the rest of this

obsetress: that i foRGOT JAMIE AND BECS DATED TOO

obsetress: jamie ignoring dani's "why did you two break up again" and then dani's poking her

"can you at least tell me if it was before or after the belly button ring"

em: danis like what if i get a belly button ring

obsetress: oh no

em: jamies like... (british grumbling) can we jsut work out

em: thinks abt it a little too much

obsetress: "you didn't even wanna work out in the first place, jamie, god forbid i help make it fun for you"

"yeah... fun"

em: jamies palms are Too Sweaty she falls off the pull up bar

obsetress: viola stares

obsetress: rebecca smirks

obsetress: dani GRINS

em: eheheh Little Shits Rebecca and Dani

obsetress: jamie watching dani do squats

obsetress: viola watching dani do squat

obsetress: jamie catching viola watching dani do squats

obsetress: jamie scowling

obsetress: viola grinning

em: danis like don’t worry i have enough ass for the two of u

em: wait

em: no well that took a turn

em: viola is a MENACE jamie never knows peace again

em: jamies like man at least during awkward lunches w eddie i could flex a little

em: (jamies gets to flex a little eventually)

obsetress: in the locker room after they work out dani and vi both make a beeline for the same shower and then have an awkward like

obsetress: u no u

obsetress: later, dani explains nervously to jamie "that was, um, ours, when she'd drag me to the gym with, um" and she's bright red

obsetress: "it's just... muscle memory, it's not like, you know"

obsetress: jamie is honestly more amused than anything else

em: jamie lets her sweat it out but she’s not mad or anything! jamie understands a routine

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: jamie's just grinning by the end and laughing "c'mere" and tugs her down the row of showers and picks a random one "a shower of your very own"

em: aw soft

obsetress: soft!

obsetress: until

obsetress: dani beams but then bites her lip and glances over at jamie "does it have to be just my very own"

em: jamies like no their PDA is disgusting. however our PDA is fine

em: rebecca showers separately bc she times it down to the minute and Someone has to be functional

obsetress: god chefs kiss

obsetress: viola doing a 12-step skin care routine in the mirror

obsetress: then drags them all to brunch after

#the dani jamie viola rebecca exes au #i have one more in drafts atm but discord c/p is. such a pain to format

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writing-mermaid · 4 years

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Siren, part 1 : Do you think I'm stuck up 'cause I'm always picking fights?

Summary : Y/N is a mutant, a Siren, the last of her kind, with deadly dangerous powers and a hidden past. If most of the Avengers likes and get along with her, Steve doesn’t, and it’s getting worse when Y/N and Bucky become close. After all what can bring two broken souls together if it’s not a dark past.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings : Language maybe

Word Count : 1 479

Square Filled : @star-spangled-bingo : Nick Fury

@buckybarnesbingo : Free square

Author’s note : I have this story on my WIPs for a little time. I hope that you’ll like it. This story is also my entry for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan ‘s Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge, the prompt I chose is Siren AU. Don’t forget that feedback is appreciated and really important.

Song of the title : Can’t Pin Me Down - Marina and the Diamonds

Masterlist

Star Spangled Bingo masterlist

Bucky Barnes Bingo masterlist

Siren masterlist

Buy me a ☕

“And this is the main entrance of the facility”, Fury states, showing the doors on the plan of the HYDRA base.

He presses a button and the plan disappears. He grabs two case files and make them slide on the table.

“Y/L/N, Barnes, the both of you are going”, he adds, sending the folders towards us, at each side of the desk.

I open mine, looking at the information printed on the white sheet and then, rise on my feet.

“This doesn’t look too complicated; I can do it by myself.”

“Same, I don’t need a partner, I can do it alone”, Bucky says, before standing up.

“The both of you sit down !”, the SHIELD’s director almost yells, “I’m the one giving the missions orders, the fact that the both of you are Avengers doesn’t change the fact that I’m the one in charge here.”

“Yes, sir”, I answer, sitting back on my chair, my blood boiling in my veins, Natasha watching me from aside, perfectly knowing that I rather work alone than with someone because of the abilities that made me a part of the Avengers.

Fury finishes his presentation while I am still angry at him for not letting me have a solo mission when I am totally able to do it by myself.

“You’re leaving in an hour”, he concludes.

Everyone around me pack their things and exit the room, Fury first. I am still sitting and move my chair from the right to the left and from the left to the right, sulking like a child. Yeah that’s really mature Y/N, congratulations…

“Y/N are you coming ?”, Nat asks, leaning on the door frame.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

I follow Natasha out of the meeting room, my file in one hand, the other balled into a fist. I have already proved myself during missions, and I take my suppressing medicine that inhibit my powers when I am around people. Yeah, I must take suppressors, or everyone around would probably jump on me. That is, maybe, the worst aspect of my powers, thing that appeared during my teenage years.

“So, you think that mission is going to be easy ?”, she questions, while we are heading to my bedroom where I need to take my pill of the day.

“It’s just a recognition mission, just have to look, enter and see what HYDRA is up to. Nothing too complicated. I don’t understand why Fury needs to pair me up with somebody else…”

“Maybe because it must be really dangerous.”

“Reconnaissance mission Nat, I’m not a child nor stupid !”

I enter the room, Natasha on my heels and open the drawer of my nightstand to take a little box with the medicine the Wakandan scientists made for me based on the ones Helen Cho gave me when I first arrived here a few years ago.

“I don’t understand why Fury wants Barnes to babysit me”, I put the pill inside my mouth and swallow it with the small bottle of water that stand on my night table. “Like I can’t do anything by myself”, I continue, angrily, closing the cap.

“You’re the newest here, one day he will let you do solo mission.”

“That’s not as if I am a newbie Nat, I have worked for the SHIELD for five years now, trained for a long time before. And with all that I endured before; I had the hopes that somebody would entrust me with a solo mission…”

“Oh sweetheart, that’s not about your capacities or anything”, she says, putting one of my Y/H/C strands behind my right ear. “Fury is just being extra-cautious with HYDRA. They played with us so many times. Besides, going on a mission with Barnes is not the worst thing in the world.”

“You’re right, the worse for me would have been to go on a mission with Steve. I still don’t know why he hates me…”, I sigh.

“I don’t think he does. He’s just being extra careful and protective.”

“Steve Rogers, mother hen.”

We both burst out laughing just before someone knocks on the door.

“Come in”, I yell, trying to catch my breath, while Natasha is still crying of laugh.

“I just wanted to see if you were ready”, Bucky says, after he opened the door. “Is she okay ?”, he asks when he sees my red-head friend trying to calm down.

“Yes, don’t worry. Give me five minutes and I’m all yours.”

“So, in five minutes you’re all his”, Nat says wiggling her eyebrows, when Bucky closes the door after him.

“Nat ! Stop misinterpreting what I’m saying”, I slap her arm saying this. “You know what I meant.”

“Oh, please Y/N, I’m kidding, stop taking everything literally. Maybe you should get laid, it would do you some good.”

“Sex is not the answer to everything Nat”, I sigh.

“No, but it would do you some good. When was the last time you had a good shag ?”

“Nat !”

“What ?! Maybe you should try with Barnes. It would do you real, real good.”

The door opens at the same time, revealing a blushing Bucky on the other side.

“I’m ready”, I tell him, nonchalantly, trying to hide my embarrassment because of what Nat just said and that he probably heard through the door. “Are you coming ?”, I ask him, going towards the changing room.

Natasha leaves us and in silence, we walk to the elevator. When we reach the equipment floor of the Avengers facility, Fury is waiting for us, with Steve and Tony.

“Come here darling, I improved your suit. The fabric is more flexible. Totally in match with your fighting skills and those powers of yours”, he says, smiling and handing me the new black fabric.

“Thanks Tony, I really appreciate !”

While I am looking at my new outfits, I can feel Steve’s gaze all over me, and what he’s saying to Bucky.

“Be careful Buck, we don’t know what’s going to be in that HYDRA facility and I don’t trust her”, I hear him.

“She’s an Avenger Steve, and she worked for the SHIELD before that. You should trust her.”

“I’d like to, but I can’t. There are some blank years in her files, Fury seems to be the only one knowing where she was and what happened to her during that time, but he didn’t tell me and said that it’s hers to say when she’ll be ready to reveal it. And I don’t like this.”

“Let her prove herself Steve, I’m sure everything is going to be okay.”

He pats Steve’s shoulder and walks to his locker from where he takes his uniform.

“Go now, little one”, Tony pushes me towards locker room, “I want to see you in my outfits.”

“Out of context, that sentence would sound really suspect. And I’m not sure that Pepper would appreciate that.”

Tony sticks out his tongue and pushes me in the booth. “Make it quick, I want to see if it fits.”

I roll my eyes and start to change my clothes to those Tony gave me. The suit perfectly hugs every of my curves. I lift my arms above my head, and the fabric is really light and moves with all my movements, according to Tony, it’s also waterproof and it comes with removing gloves. I really must thank him for that new outfit.

“Marvelous !”, the genius billionaire says, when I go out. “I’m really proud of myself !”, he adds, admiring his own work.

“Please Stark, if you’re done, I’d like to talk to Y/L/N and Barnes before they leave.”

Tony and Steve step back, and Fury approaches us.

“Don’t think that I send you there as a team, not because I don’t trust each of you as agent and that you’re not capable to deal with it by your side, but we don’t know what to expect in that warehouse, we don’t know how many men are in there, nor what they’re doing. Barnes, you are strong and fast, Y/L/N is fast too, she is lighter, and has some skills that can help you outside if things become out of control. Now do you understand ?” We both nod. The Quinjet noise is heard and he gestures towards it. “I think that’s your cue. Be careful.”

With that, he leaves and lets the both of us deal with each other.

“After you”, Bucky says, letting me pass first, with that very 1940’s gentleman thing he has.

“Thanks”, I answer, stepping into the plane, putting the first emergency bag down and taking place behind the control.

Bucky steps in right after me and takes the seat next to mine.

“Are you ready, partner ?”

“As ready as I think I can be.”

The hatch opens, and we pass through it to go to the HYDRA facility.

Taglist :

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

Tell Me It’s Real (it’s real) {1/1}

Killian Jones has done a lot of stupid things in his life. The stupidest, however, was telling Liam that he and his best friend Emma Swan are dating after Liam presses him on why he hasn’t started dating again after his last breakup. It’s fine. Liam lives an ocean away, and Killian has time to figure out how exactly he’s going to deal with this before there are any actual consequences.

That is until Liam shows up at Emma’s parents’ house in Storybrooke four days before Christmas thinking that Killian and Emma have been dating for months.

Emma’s going to murder him.

(A fake dating AU)

Rating: Mature

a/n: You guys, it’s the holiday season, and you all know what that means! Fake dating! That’s right! I’m finally using the ultimate wintery/holiday trope, and I’ve kind of fallen in love with it! I obviously have to write it more, right?! I apologize for any major influx of words this/next week. I just wanted to post all of the things I needed to post while I’m desperately waiting to go into labor 🙈

This one is for you all but especially @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @captainsjedi and @thejollyroger-writer ❤️

Found on AO3 | Here |

Tagging my one-shot list: @captainsjedi @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @xellewoods @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @shireness-says @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @shardminds @spartanguard

-/-

“Oh my God,” Emma mumbles as she falls back onto his couch and hangs her feet over the back, “my mom is freaking ridiculous.”

“Freaking?”

She twists her head to look at him and roll her eyes. “My mother could somehow hear me swear through the phone if I did, so I substituted. She’s magic.”

“Mary Margaret Nolan is many things, love, but I don’t believe she’s actually magic. I’d also be remiss to say that she cannot hear you swear while she’s a couple hundred miles away.”

“Trust me, she can.”

Killian huffs and uncrosses his legs before propping his socked feet on his coffee table, noting the little smudge that he needs to clean. Emma must have had her coffee here this morning. “Why is your mother freaking ridiculous?”

“Because she, like the mothers in every Hallmark movie in existence, keeps asking me if I’m going to bring someone home for Christmas. I’ve brought a boyfriend home exactly once, which went horribly, and then I said I would never do that again. She also seems to think that I’m secretly dating someone and that she’s going to weasel this information out of me.”

“She cares about you is all.” Emma laughs, and he knows that she’s about to call him on his bullshit.

(He hopes Mary Margaret can’t hear his thoughts.)

“She cares,” Emma says hesitantly while her thumbs swipe across the screen, “but she is annoying. I’m going to tell her I’m not bringing someone home.”

“Besides me.”

“Yeah, but you don’t count.”

“Well, thanks,” Killian chuckles. He reaches over to pinch her side, but she barely flinches more than a slight squirm away from him. “I’m glad I don’t count.”

Emma tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and drops her phone against her stomach before turning to look at him with what he swears is a slight pinkness to her cheeks. “You know what I mean, KJ.”

“Aye, darling,” he promises before leaning over and lightly pressing his lips to her cheek, “I do. What do you want for dinner? Did you eat before you came over?”

“I came right from the station and skipped lunch because paperwork is an absolute bitch.” “Careful, Nolan,” Killian laughs, “your mum might be able to hear that dirty mouth of yours. How do you feel about Tai takeout?”

“Mexican.”

“Chinese.”

“You’ve got a deal, my friend,” she sighs as she twists on the couch until she’s sitting up the right way and her hair is jostled everywhere. She looks ridiculous, and he can feel the smile tugging at the corners of his lips at the monster that is her hair. “Also, would you hate me if I told you that I have neither packed for this weekend nor wrapped presents?”

“I could only hate you if you said you also needed to do laundry.”

Emma flips her hair back so that he can see her face, and he already knows her answer. “I need to do laundry. Like, two weeks’ worth of it, and I think I might also need you to wrap my presents instead of me trying. I can’t get the corners all straight like you do.”

“You want me to come over tomorrow and help?”

“I’ll love you forever if you do.”

Killian bites his tongue and nods, resisting all of the words he wants to say and winking instead. “I knew eventually you’d fall in love with me, darling. I’m too irresistible for it to never happen. I simply didn’t think it would take five years.”

“Guess you’re not as irresistible as you thought.”

“Or maybe you’re too stubborn.” She reaches out to slap him, and he grabs onto her wrist. “No, you definitely are.”

-/-

“Bloody hell, woman,” Killian scoffs as he pushes Emma’s suitcase into the back of his car. “What did you put in here?”

“The presents you wrapped.”

“Then what’s in the duffle bag?”

“More presents you didn’t wrap because I hid them from you.”

Killian groans and leans forward to rest his head against the suitcase while he scuffs his shoe against the pavement. “Is there any way for me to get out of going to your parents’ house for Christmas? I don’t think I’ll be able to last this entire week if it means I’m going to be lugging around all of your stuff. I think I’ll celebrate Christmas by myself this year.”

Emma pats his back. “You’ll be fine. It’ll be fun. My mom is making your favorite apple pie because she loves you more than she loves me.”

“You know,” he starts, pushing the suitcase in a little bit more and slamming the trunk closed, “suddenly I think I’ll be able to make it. However, you, darling, are going to have to be the one to suffer from your mother’s interrogation over your dating life, so I’m not sure that you’ll make it.”

She slaps his back this time. “Shut up and drive.”

“As you wish.”

It’s not a long drive from Portland to Storybrooke, just over two hours, and it passes quickly while they listen to a true crime podcast and debate how much eggnog Emma’s uncle James is going to drink before noon every day. Emma has to update him on every new development in her family since he saw them all last year at Christmas so that he doesn’t step on any toes by asking about dead relationships or even dead relatives, and he tries to commit it all to memory. Emma’s got enough relatives and quasi-relatives to fill an entire auditorium, and it’s always shocking to him how different that is to simply he and Liam. They’ve got this wild and complex history that’s continuously evolving, and his family can be summed up into a few short phrases.

Dead mum, deadbeat dad, an aunt who wanted nothing to do with Killian once he turned eighteen, and one brother who still lives in England while Killian stayed in America after he finished university.

Small. His family is miniscule. It’s only he and Liam, and while FaceTime is a bloody brilliant invention, it’s not a substitute for the real thing. They usually see each other at least twice a year, Killian going to England once and Liam coming to Maine the other time, but this year Liam couldn’t get off work and Killian couldn’t afford the outrageously expensive flights for such a short trip.

He’s trying to save up to have enough for a down payment on this home he’s been looking at, itching and aching to get his hands on it so that he can renovate, and every dollar he doesn’t absolutely need is going to his savings. Liam told him that if he so much as thought about touching his savings that he would find a way to cut off his balls even from an ocean away.

Killian would like to keep those two particular assets.

So it’s another Christmas spent in the quirky small-town of Storybrooke, Maine where he gets to hear David tell the exact same stories about Emma that he’s heard every year before he’s suddenly corralled into a private room and threatened within an inch of his life if he ever breaks Emma’s heart.

Obviously his balls are never safe.

But he’d never hurt Emma. Ever. And despite what David and Mary Margaret and possibly a few other people think, he and Emma are nothing more than close friends. There will be no breaking of hearts.

Except maybe his if Emma ever does find someone to bring home for Christmas. Killian wants her to be happy, more than most anything, but that Christmas will definitely be one he doesn’t spend with the Nolans. They’re like family to him, but he’s not sure if he’ll ever have a permanent spot. Killian knows how it is with Emma’s boyfriends. They’re never comfortable with him, and he’s heard the fights about him through thin walls and hushed phone conversations, and one day Emma’s going to choose someone else over him. It’s inevitable.

And he’s the fool who fell in love with his best friend and has never had the balls to ask her out.

He’s got to stop thinking about his balls in all of these unpleasant scenarios.

“Bloody hell,” Killian mumbles when he pulls onto Main Street and sees the quite frankly ridiculous amount of decorations lining the streets and filling all of the shop windows. “Did an elf throw up here?”

Emma reaches over and squeezes his ear. “You would know if your own kind was in town.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Careful,” she hums, “we’re within five miles of Mary Margaret. She’ll be able to hear you.”

“I will take my chances, love.”

“It’s your funeral.”

“As long as you don’t bury me in one of those tacky Christmas sweaters, I don’t think I’ll mind.”

“Damn,” Emma laughs before tugging his ear again and leaning over to lightly brush her lips across his cheek, “I guess I’ll have to change my plans for your funeral attire then.”

When they get to the Nolans’ farmhouse, Emma tells him to pull onto the gravel driveway and park next to her dad’s truck instead of parking on the side of the road next to the white fence like their guests usually do. Only daughter’s privileges or something like that. He’s not complaining, especially when he picks up half of Emma’s bags to carry inside and is suddenly reminded that she definitely packed a brick or two in there.

Emma opens the unlocked door, something that still fascinates him as someone who has never lived anywhere but a city, and everything inside is exactly the same as the last time he was here. White walls full of family pictures and antique pieces Mary Margaret found in her thrift stores, and little stems of greenery stuck around to bring some color to the place. It looks like one of the homes on Emma’s favorite HGTV show. He can’t recall the name now, but there’s always a hell of a lot of white and throw pillows. He’ll never understand the throw pillows.

The Christmas tree centered in the archway left of the stairs is bare of everything but lights, and Killian already knows that Emma is going to give up decorating halfway through while he finishes her part. Her parents wait for her to come home to decorate it every year, and every year she hangs about ten ornaments before getting distracted and leaving him or someone else to finish.

“Mom,” Emma calls out as she drops her bags at the bottom of the stairs. “Dad? Where are you guys?” There’s no response, and when Emma turns to look at him with raised brows, he shrugs his shoulders and carefully places his bags on the ground. “They have to be here. Dad’s truck is here. Let’s go look out back.”

Killian follows Emma’s lead through the living room and the kitchen to walk out on the back porch, but when they open the door, the backyard is empty, not a single soul to be seen. Emma immediately pulls out her phone and runs her fingers across it while her brows furrow and her smile slowly curves downward the longer she stares at her phone.

“They walked into town for lunch,” she finally explains while sticking her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. “Like, they knew we were going to be here soon, and my parents decided to walk to town. I told them to bring us back food.”

“Granny’s?”

“Of course, KJ. There are fifty restaurants in this town, and my parents only go to one.” She pushes against his shoulder. “Now come on, let’s go put our stuff upstairs and then raid the fridge for the good eggnog before James gets here.”

-/-

There’s a picture of Emma and her parents hanging in Emma’s bedroom over her dresser. She can’t be more than five, and her hair is even brighter and curlier than it is now. He thinks it might be the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. She’s got whipped cream on her nose and chocolate spread across her mouth, and David has chocolate smeared against his cheek while Mary Margaret has flour in her hair. Someone must have snapped the picture for them after a disastrous baking incident, and Killian wishes the joy in the photo could be captured and shared today.

“Woah,” Killian mumbles when he turns and sees Emma pulling his clothes out of his suitcase, “what are you doing with my stuff? Why are you hanging it in here?”

“You’re staying in my room this year.”

“Like hell I am.”

Emma turns her head and rolls her eyes. “Don’t get your underwear bunched up. My grandmother is staying in the guest bedroom, so you got booted out. My bed is more comfortable than the couch.”

Killian reaches up to scratch behind his ear while hoping his cheeks don’t redden. “I promise I can sleep on the couch or on the floor. It’s no problem, love.”

She sighs even as she puts a pair of his jeans on a shelf in her closet. “Are you serious? You want to sleep on the couch?”

He’d love to sleep in the bed with Emma, but that seems like a horrible idea. He can hide his feelings for her most of the time, but being in the same bed, especially when he knows that Emma is a heat-seeker in her sleep, wouldn’t enable him to hide certain physical attributes of his feelings.

“I truly don’t mind.”

“Fine,” Emma huffs, but your clothes are still going to stay in here unless you want to bother my grandmother every time you need something. I hear she’s looking for a new boyfriend.”

Killian barks out a laugh and grabs one of his nicer dress shirts from Emma before she messes it up. “I’m fine keeping my clothes in here. I don’t think Ruth and I are suited for a relationship.”

“You never know. You could be my step-grandfather one day. I bet you’d buy me the best Christmas presents.”

“Only if you’re good.”

Emma winks. “Always.”

“Emma?” a faint voice calls out as the house slightly shakes after the slamming of the door. “Emma, are you here?”

“Upstairs, Mom,” Emma calls out. “We’re unpacking.”

The stairs creak as Mary Margaret walks up toward them, and suddenly she’s there and smothering Emma with a hug that he’s seen a million times.

“Oh, sweetie, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. It’s good to be home.”

“You say that now, but wait until your dad gets home and asks you about the last time you had your tires rotated on your car.”

“I took it to the shop for her last week,” Killian explains, and Mary Margaret releases Emma from her embrace before turning to him with a bright smile.

“Bless you for taking such good care of our girl,” Mary Margaret sighs. She embraces him, and Killian does the same. “I’m thrilled that you could come and spend Christmas with us again this year.”

“I am too. Thank you for having me, love.”

“Always.” She pats his back and pulls back. “David will be here with your lunch in a few minutes. Why don’t we go and get a head start on the Christmas tree?”

-/-

The Nolans are as wonderful as they always are, and it’s refreshing to spend time in a house so vibrant and full of life. They’re what Christmas movies and children’s novels are made of, and sometimes Killian forgets how wonderful, if not slightly overbearing, they are because of Emma’s slightly more pessimistic view on life. She’s happy most of the time, a smile usually on her face even when it’s wry, but he’s seen her go through her breakups with Neal, Walsh, and several guys in between and seen the darkness that resides behind the green of her eyes. People have betrayed her in the worst ways that humans can be betrayed, but she pushes that down…most of the time.

He understands that.

What he doesn’t understand is having a family like this.

Or, well, he didn’t understand that until Emma came sauntering into his life one day telling him that he needed to stop taking her parking spot in the parking garage that their two apartments share. It was all a misunderstanding. His apartment gave him the wrong numbered lot, and he’s never been so thankful for a clerical error and an angry blonde woman.

Love of his bloody life, he thinks.

No, actually, he knows this even as he watches her try to act something out in this ridiculous game of charades where she’s standing on one leg with her hair brushed in front of her face.

One day he swears that he’ll tell her and that he’ll stop harboring these feelings, but he’s selfish and doesn’t want to have their friendship altered. He also doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. She shouldn’t have to harbor the burden of his feelings for her, especially if she doesn’t feel the same way. Emma owes him nothing more than what she’s willing to give. Being friends is more than he could ever ask for, but his mind betrays him and imagines a time in the future when they’re still playing this stupid game but with a ring on both of their left hands.

That’s a dangerous thought that he pushes down in favor of looking at his texts.

Liam: I’m sorry I didn’t manage to call you today. You want to try again tomorrow?

Killian: Our usual time?

Liam: Sounds perfect. Have a good time with the Nolans. I’m sure that’s got to be weird for you this year.

Killian’s cheeks heat, but he doesn’t respond to Liam’s text as Emma loses her balance and stumbles to the ground until she’s flat on her ass and her entire body is shaking with laughter.

“I was a f-freaking f-flamingo,” she stutters out between laughs. “How did no one get that?”

“Why didn’t you flap your wings?” David questions.

“I did,” Emma sighs as she falls back in laughter. “You guys are all idiots. Why can’t I have Killian on my team? He’s better at this.”

“Because in order for Killian to stay in my house,” David begins, “he has to follow my rules. Rule one is that he helps me with whatever home improvement project I’m working on. Rule two is that he’s on my team for all games.”

“Those are dumb rules.”

“I rather like those rules, love.”

She holds her middle finger up on both hands.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret gasps, “don’t do that.”

“Next time guess that I’m a flamingo, and I won’t have to.”

“Don’t fret, Mary Margaret,” Killian teases. “Emma has always been a sore loser, as I’m sure you know.”

“She’s the worst,” she agrees. “Does anyone want to keep decorating the tree? We didn’t get far earlier.”

Emma groans.

“Or we could keep getting obliterated at this game.”

“Tree,” Emma sighs, “definitely tree.”

-/-

Emma lasts a whole ten minutes decorating the tree before giving up and walking away to eat her leftover onion rings from lunch.

He finishes decorating with David and Mary Margaret, and they tell him that he’s taking Emma’s place on next year’s Christmas card.

-/-

Killian wakes to the smell of coffee and to the sound of hushed talking in the kitchen. Light is peeking through the closed curtains, a sliver crossing over his right eye, and he grumbles and turns back over on the couch hoping that the crick in his neck and the ache in his back will go away after being awake for a few hours.

This couch was not this uncomfortable when he sat on it for most of the evening yesterday.

“KJ,” Emma calls out, “do you want blueberries in your pancakes?”

“Could you use a quieter voice?”

There’s a shuffling and a creak of floorboards, and all of the sudden a firm grip is tightening around his bicep that has him snapping up. “Bloody hell, woman. Have you ever heard of – Liam?”

“Did you miss me, little brother?”

He must still be dreaming because all of the sudden his brother is standing above him with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Liam shouldn’t be in Storybrooke. He should be eight hours and a plane ride away, and there’s no way he can be here. Right?

“Are you going to get up and hug me or are you going to stay on that couch like the lazy ass you must be to have fallen asleep down here last night instead of in an actual bed with your girlfriend?”

Killian’s mind is playing catch up. He’s still half asleep and thinking that Emma is going to make him blueberry pancakes, or more likely Mary Margaret will make him those pancakes while Emma watches. Then, all of the sudden, Liam is here standing over him and not in England like he should be, which makes no sense when…holy shit.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Fuck.

“David can be a bit old-fashioned,” Killian lies as he sits up on the couch and then stands to give Liam a hug, squeezing him tightly to convince himself that Liam is really here. “He doesn’t like me to sleep in Emma’s room unless there’s absolutely no other place in the house.”

“You’re both adults.”

“David’s house, David’s rules,” he continues. “What the hell are you doing here? How did this happen?”

“Emma arranged it,” Liam murmurs into Killian’s hair. He smells like he always does and feels just the same. This is some kind of miracle, and Emma Nolan may be the greatest woman alive to do something like this for him. This had to have been her idea. His brother is here. This is real. “And I’m a wanker who has lied to you for weeks about not being able to take off work.”

“You’re probably too good a liar.”

“No such thing.” “That’s what criminals think.”

Killian pulls back from their embrace, his cheeks already beginning to ache from his smile, and sees Emma standing in the archway to the room with her arms crossed over her chest and the cheekiest smile he’s ever seen gracing her lips.

“You absolute tease,” Killian chuckles as he walks toward Emma and wraps his arms around her waist, picking her up and tugging her close to him while her feet dangle from the ground and her arms loop around his neck. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“Sometimes I like you and want to do something nice.”

“Nice?” he scoffs out as he buries his face in her neck and her hair. “This is more than nice. You’re bloody brilliant.”

Her hand rubs up and down his back, and he melts into it, wondering if he can stay in this place and this moment forever. “You deserve it. Though, you really have to explain to Liam that we’re not dating because – ”

“Liam,” Killian blurts out, pulling back from Emma to turn over to his brother and his Cheshire Cat smile, “could you excuse us for a moment? I promise I’ll be back in a hurry and we can talk and eat breakfast then, yeah?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Emma is staring at him with the impossible combination of wide eyes and furrowed brows, and she gasps when he practically picks her up again and carries her through the archway to the kitchen and out the door to the back porch. It’s freezing, something he knows Emma is going to complain about, but he needed a little privacy.

“What the hell are you doing?”

God, he’s an idiot. An undeniable idiot, and he has completely and totally screwed himself into a corner.

Sighing, Killian puts Emma on the ground and moves to run his hands up and down her arms to keep her warm. She going to hate him for what he’s about to say.

“Don’t hate me.”

“That is never a good way to start a conversation.”

“Yeah, well, you’re going to hate this conversation.”

Emma huffs and reaches forward to tuck her hands underneath his sweatshirt so that the iciness of her skin is touching his back and absolutely electrifying him. Why is he like this? He’s a damn bastard.

“Hey,” Emma whispers as her nails scratch against his back, “tell me what’s wrong, KJ.”

Swallowing, he nods. “I’ve done something stupid.”

“Did you kill someone?”

“What? No. Why would you say that?”

“Because you do stupid shit all the time, and that is the only thing I can imagine you doing to have you this freaked out.”

Killian laughs and a white puff of air escapes through his lips before he leans forward and rests his forehead against Emma’s. “I told Liam we’re dating.”

“I’m s-sorry. What did you just say?”

“Liam thinks we’re dating, which is probably why he’s said several confusing things in your correspondence over the past few weeks.”

Emma’s nails dig into his back hard enough to draw blood, and she pulls back so that he loses the feel of the heat of her skin. “Well, that explains a lot, but how the hell did Liam get the impression that we’re dating? Also, I’m going to freeze to death. It has to be fifteen degrees.”

“I know, I know,” he mumbles before pulling her back into his embrace. They must be a pair standing out here in so few clothes with the air nipping at their fingers. “I, well, long story short. Liam was concerned about me after Milah left me because he didn’t seem to think I was dating.”

“You weren’t.” “That’s beside the point.”

“It’s obviously not.”

“Anyways,” he murmurs into her hair, “he was being a buggering ass for so long and one day I told him that you and I had begun to see each other. That was maybe…six months ago. Possibly seven months.”

“What the actual fuck?”

“You’re going to wake up your mum with that kind of language.”

Emma takes a step back while she bounces on her toes and rubs her own hands up and down her arms. Her nose is positively red. “Why would you tell Liam that we’re dating?”

Because I’m in love with you, and he knows it.

“Because I wanted to get him off my back, and you were around when I told him.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Emma chants, and she stops bouncing on her toes to pace back and forth on the porch. “So what was your plan when Liam was eventually going to visit and he realized we weren’t dating? Or when you started dating someone else and suddenly you had to explain why I was so cool hanging out with you and your new girlfriend? Liam literally works in fraud. I think he would have realized something is up.”

“Insurance discovery is not – ”

“Killian.”

He holds his hands up. “My apologies, love. Look, I realize that I’ve screwed up, but I didn’t think I was going to see him, certainly not here. I thought I’d have more time to figure things out. I didn’t – bloody hell, what am I going to do?”

“Have you ever considered telling the truth?”

“No, absolutely not.” Emma opens her mouth to protest, but he doesn’t let her. “Listen, if we could simply pretend to be together for this one week, I’ll figure something out once Liam’s gone home. I promise I won’t make it awkward for you or for anyone. He would be devastated if he found out I lied to him like this, and I’m sure he’ll have me committed for being insane.”

“You want me to pretend to date you. I think I could have you committed for that idea alone.”

“Yes. Come on, darling. It won’t be difficult. We’re already close. We simply have to add in a little public affection, and he’ll never know the wiser.”

“KJ,” she sighs, and his heart is beating so loudly he thinks it might be in between his ears. This is a horrible idea for seventy-two different reasons, but right now he’s desperate not to be a disappointment to his brother. “You know I would do anything for you, but how would this work? My family knows we’re not dating, and I can’t lie to them. That would be too much of a mess.”

“Tell them. Let them be in on it. I don’t even know. I’m sure it would be highly entertaining for them.”

Emma chuckles and rubs her hands up and down her face. “They would die of laughter. My dad…you wouldn’t even have to give him a gift. This would be gift enough, especially because it would be reassurance to him that you weren’t actually fucking me.”

“Exactly,” Killian points out while he inhales a breath of chilled air. “Please, love. I will do whatever you want when we get home.”

Her brow arches. “Really now?”

“Anything reasonable.”

“Okay, okay,” she sighs, and then all of the sudden she’s stepping forward and pressing up on her toes while her arms wrap around his neck. “I’ll think on what I want my reward to be because – ”

And then, in the most unexpected moment of his entire life, Emma Nolan’s lips are pressing into his, cold and a little chapped but altogether wonderful in all of the ways that he’s spent years imagining. His hands curl around her back, pulling her closer to him so that he can feel the soft curves and hard lines of her body while her lips start to move over his, soft and slow. This isn’t real. It can’t be. He’s loved her for too long, even if he didn’t realize it for a long damn time, and this is all he’s wanted.

But then Emma is pulling back and lingering in his space, forehead pressed to his and breath intermingling so that he’s not sure whose is whose.

That’s when the ball drops, and he’s starkly reminded that while he may have felt Emma’s lips on his, while he may know that she likes to focus on one lip at a time and nibble the slightest bit, that wasn’t actually real. Emma’s next words reaffirm that for him.

“Don’t think too much about that,” she heavily breathes, basically panting next to him. “I’m sure we’d have to kiss at some point, and I didn’t want it to be awkward in front of Liam.”

“Aye, I know,” Killian lies. “Brilliant thinking.”

“I’ve watched a lot of really bad Hallmark movies. I know how this works.” She falls back from him, and Killian’s left standing there like an absolute asshole. “Let’s go inside. You’ve got some catching up to do with your brother.”

At that, she turns away, opening the door to the kitchen, and Killian reaches up to touch his lips, still feeling Emma’s kiss there.

He’s well and truly fucked.

-/-

Killian isn’t there when Emma tells her parents and Ruth their plan, and he’s not entirely sure if she plans on telling the extended family that will pop in and out over the next few days, but he knows the exact moment that David knows. David walks into the living room still in his pajamas, takes one look at Killian as he talks to Liam about how he’s been lately, and walks right out of the room trying to smother his laugh.

Smooth, mate. Smooth.

Mary Margaret is much better and only manages to stare at him with a goofy grin for a few minutes before her face returns to normal and she doesn’t look like she knows the world’s most stupid secret.

It’s all fine and good until Emma comes into the living room and gracefully plops herself down on his lap, wiggling around until she can get into a comfortable position. It takes far longer than it should, and when she winks at him, he knows exactly why she’s doing what she’s doing.

It’s payback.

Emma is very nonchalantly grinding down onto his lap so that he’s half-hard, on the way to being completely hard, and his sweatpants don’t do much to hide anything.

Killian is not going to sport an erection in front of his brother and Emma’s parents.

“Bloody hell, woman,” he hisses into her ear while his hand wraps around her stomach and holds her still. “Have you lost your mind?”

She tries to move again, but his grip doesn’t allow her any movement. “No, but I think you will in a few minutes.”

“So,” Liam claps, “do we have any plans for today? Is there anything I can help you with Mr. and Mrs. Nolan? Thank you again for letting me invade your holiday.”

“Don’t think a second thought about it.” Mary Margaret waves him away and stands from her chair. “Any family of Killian’s is family to us. Christmas falls on such a weird day this year being in the middle of the week that we have all kinds of extra time. I believe we’ll lounge around for most of the day today, but I might start on my pies so I don’t have to do them all tomorrow. Feel free to do whatever you want. I’m sure you and Killian have lots to catch up on.”

“We can catch up while helping you,” Liam promises before nudging his shoulder into Killian’s. “Besides, I’m sure Killian is eager to impress you both since this Christmas he’s Emma’s boyfriend and not simply a friend. It’s a whole new set of standards.”

Killian is going to choke on air.

“Which is exactly why my eyes will be on him, especially since I’ve just been informed he’ll be sleeping in Emma’s room tonight.”

“Dad,” Emma groans, “don’t be ridiculous. I feel like it’s safer for Killian to sleep in my bedroom here than anywhere else. I mean, you don’t know what we get up to when we’re back in Portland.”

“Please don’t even say that. I don’t want…images in my head.”

“Oh my God,” Emma gasps as she grinds down, hard, on his lap so that his fingers curl into the couch. “Stop. I swear, you’re so old-fashioned sometimes.” Emma rises from his lap then, and he quickly grabs a throw pillow on the couch to cover his tented sweatpants before Emma leans back down and brushes her lips across his, lingering there. “I’m going to go take a shower. You should find a movie to watch while I’m gone since I have a feeling you won’t want to move for a little while.”

“Aye, love,” Killian agrees with stuttered breathing. “I think I can manage that.”

-/-

Emma’s bed is smaller than it looks. Or maybe he simply feels like it’s smaller now that he’s underneath her covers and can feel the heat of her body radiating toward him. He’s kissed her twice today with several close brushes of her lips on the corner of his, but he can’t handle being close to her in bed. What the hell is wrong with him? He and Emma touch all the time, have been physically closer than this, and he cannot begin to count the times they’ve fallen asleep next to each other on one of their couches. This should be fine and normal, and yet his body is on fire, little sparks of electricity shocking him.

This is a weird, wonderful day, and it’s as if his entire personality has been shaken by it.

His brother is here and will be spending Christmas day with him, something Killian didn’t think they’d be able to do this year, and he’s kissed Emma.

Unreal.

He should get a grip and stop freaking out. This isn’t him. He’s always cool, calm, and collected. He isn’t the type to freak out or worry over little things, and yet his mind has been in a constant state of panic all day.

Now that he can feel Emma’s heat radiating toward him and the smoothness of her leg occasionally brushing against his, Killian knows that every decision he’s made today has been stupid.

The bed shakes as Emma violently flips over onto her side until she’s facing him and wrapping her arms around her pillow while her face squishes back into her neck. “So…today was weird.”

“That’s certainly one way to describe it.”

“I mean, we spent the day with my family, which is always weird, coupled by your brother, which is weirder even though I knew that was happening, and we also spent the day pretending to be together. Like, I think Liam is downstairs on the couch thinking that we’re up here fucking right now.”

“I would prefer that Liam doesn’t think about my sex life.”

“Imaginary one.”

“Oi,” he complains, reaching over to pinch her side so that she squirms away before sticking her legs through his calves. Bloody freezing feet. “It may have been awhile, but I’ll have you know that my sex life is nothing to knock. It’s not as if you’re out often.”

“At least I’m not lying to my brother about my dating life.”

“Sorry about that again, love,” he whispers as his hand runs up her side and rests alongside her waist, fingers curling against warm skin. “I don’t – I shouldn’t have…”

“Hey,” she whispers while brushing back some of his hair, “I don’t mind. Not really. There are worse things in the world than having to make out with a hot guy over the holidays.”

Killian waggles his brows, putting on a façade to keep himself from rambling on and on about his feelings for Emma. “I knew that you fancied me.”

She flicks her fingers against her forehead. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I promise I’ll try my best.” Killian leans forward and brushes his lips against her forehead, lingering longer than he should. He’s had a taste and can’t seem to get enough. “Let’s get some sleep, love. Your mum said we’re spending all of tomorrow baking, and I think it’ll take up all our energy.”

“That sounds like a good idea, especially since before we go to sleep, I plan to wear you out with some rather rigorous love-making.”

Emma laughs as she turns around and nuzzles into her pillow, keeping her freezing feet still tucked in between his calves while Killian wonders once again what the hell he’s gotten himself into. How could this possible get worse?

-/-

Monday is more than busy. When Mary Margaret said they were going to use up all of their energy baking, she meant it. She’s baking a pie for every single one of their neighbors, and each one gets more care than Killian thought possible. He, Liam, Emma, David, and Ruth all try to help, but in the end, Mary Margaret only finds he and Liam useful. David, Emma, and Ruth all wander off and wrap presents or write holiday cards to go along with each pie, and he’s mostly left in peace and quiet to bake pies and have time to catch up with Liam in a way that they can’t do while apart or in the company of others.

Killian is still in shock over Emma arranging Liam’s visit for him. It’s one of the most thoughtful gifts he’s ever received, and he’s convinced that he doesn’t deserve her. She never claims to be particularly kind or giving, but he sees all of that in everything that she does for him.

She arranged for his brother to fly from England and stay with her parents for Christmas, and she’s pretending to date him to cover up Killian’s mistakes.

What a woman.

And she’s surprisingly good at pretending to date him. Every once and awhile she’ll wander into the kitchen, stealing fruit from his pie filling and popping it in her mouth before brushing her lips across his shoulder, his cheeks, his lips. She runs her hands along his arm, tracing the muscles and the veins, before wrapping her hands around his waist and squeezing him. It’s all these natural, affectionate touches that he grew accustomed to while in a real relationship, but there’s a thrill every time Emma does something like this simply because it’s Emma. He’s got a heat deep in his belly, a redness flushed on his cheeks, and emotion is lodged in his throat always waiting for what she’s going to do next.

It’s a surprise.

A great one too.

And despite his constant reminders to himself, it’s easy to forget that none of this is real when he threads his fingers through Emma’s as they sit on the couch and argue over what Christmas movie to watch or when Emma runs her foot along his calf. It’s easy to forget when Mary Margaret softly smiles at the two of them while David scowls, and it’s even easier to forget when Liam asks them questions and neither of them have to lie about their time spent together.

It’s so real that Killian is convincing himself that it is real, especially the next day on Christmas Eve when he and Emma are delivering the pies and laughing so hard that his lungs burn (that could be from the snow and the cold) and his stomach aches while Emma does impersonations of each of her neighbors before they knock on their doors.

She’s spot on each time.

Killian loves her, honestly and truly. He loves the freckles on her face and covering her shoulders. He loves the sound of her laugh and the way that it trickles through the air like a sweet melody. He loves her wit and the way she’s quick with her words, and he loves the way her nose scrunches up when she’s trying to concentrate or when she’s cold.

The chilled air nips at her nose and reddens it enough that Killian finds himself leaning forward and biting down at the tip before kissing her there. Her cheeks blush and turn as red as her nose, and Killian wonders if he’s ever been more in love with her than he is at this moment.

Likely not.

But it’s not real, and the weight of that weighs heavy in his stomach.

It’s not real.

“Do you want some hot chocolate, KJ?” Emma asks him later that night as he, Liam, and Emma lounge in the living with the rest of Emma’s family already gone to bed. David teased them about staying up so late that Santa won’t come visit, and it’s a wonder the man can still make such awful jokes when he hasn’t had a young child in so many years.

“No thank you, love. I think you’re the only one who can drink chocolate after we’ve consumed so much sugar today. My figure isn’t going to thank me after this week.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything, but – ”

Killian reaches for a pillow and tosses it across the room at her, but she quickly dodges out of his way and wanders into the kitchen where he can see her clumsily grabbing all of the ingredients for her to make her homemade hot chocolate. He sighs, content, and leans back into the couch with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed.

“Do you think she’s the one?”

“Hmmm?”

“Emma,” Liam repeats, “do you think she’s the woman you’ll spend the rest of your life with?”

Killian does that thing where he chokes on air again, and he bites his tongue to keep from coughing. Of-fucking-course Liam would ask him something like this. Of course. But this is his own fault and a mess of his own making.

Turning his head, Killian opens his eyes and looks at his brother sitting in the armchair opposite him before quickly glancing over and making sure that Emma isn’t listening. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I’d want to. I just…I’m not sure if Emma feels the same way.”

Liam’s brows furrow together while he shakes his head from side to side. “Trust me, she does.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“She told me.”

Do. Not. Choke. On. Air.

“I’m sorry,” Killian sputters while he tries to catch up. “What?”

“Emma,” Liam explains, tugging his blanket further up his lap and waving toward the kitchen where Emma is spraying whipped cream into her mouth. “We were both up early this morning while you were sleeping the day away, and she and I got to talking about how you’ve been doing lately with all of the changes in your department at the university and, well, life. You’ve found a good one in her. To be honest, I didn’t quite believe you when you said you’d gotten the balls to tell her you fancy her, but now I can see that you actually have.”

Killian scoffs all the while trying to stop the swirling of his stomach. “I wouldn’t lie to you about something like that.”

Except he definitely would.

“I know, little brother, but can you blame me for being hesitant? You’ve been in love with her for years. I didn’t think you’d ever actually act on it, especially after Milah.”

“Yeah, well, things happen. And it’s younger brother. There’s nothing little about me.”

Liam yawns, his eyes scrunching up in a way that reminds Killian of their mum weirdly enough. “If you say so. I think I might have to call it a night soon.”

“What? I don’t get to grill you on your dating life.”

Liam winks. “No. Those are my privileges as the elder brother.”

“That’s bullocks.”

“That’s life.”

“What’s life?” Emma wonders as she walks back into the room with a large mug topped in white cream with what he’s sure is cinnamon sprinkled on top. She carefully places it on the side table before sitting down and curling into his side. She pulls his arm over her shoulder, and he lightly tangles his fingers into the ends of her hair.

“Killian was trying to ask me about my dating life, but I told him I have elder brother privileges and don’t have to say a word.”

“He’s dating a woman named Elsa,” Emma blurts out, and Liam’s eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. “It’s only been a month, but he, as the two of you would say, fancies her.”

Killian’s entire body rumbles with laughter, and he’s never seen a sight so wonderful as Liam with his jaw dropped and cheeks reddened. Amazing. Emma is amazing for throwing Liam under the bus like that.

And maybe that’s why he leans over and presses his lips into Emma’s, tugging on her bottom lip and tasting hints of chocolate and cream, a kiss so sweet that he wants to taste it forever. Emma moans when his tongue runs across the seam of her lips, and the sound goes straight to his groin before Liam coughs and he’s brought back to where exactly he is and the situation he’s in.

That kiss wasn’t necessary, and he shouldn’t have done it.

(But he doesn’t regret it.)

“That’s the last time you and I ever share secrets, lass,” Liam grumbles, but Killian knows that there’s no ill will there. “And if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to go to sleep, so if the two of you could – ”

“The old man is kicking us out,” Emma teases before getting up and grabbing her mug, taking such a large chug of it that the remnants of whipped cream remain above her upper lip.

“You’re walking in dangerous territory, Ms. Nolan.”

“I’d care, but you’re not the Jones brother I like to impress.”

Liam huffs and waves her away. “Goodnight, love. I’ll see the two of you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning,” Killian tells Liam. “If Santa comes down the chimney, pretend to be asleep so he can leave you your lump of coal.”

Liam salutes. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Killian follows Emma upstairs until they’re in her bedroom and she’s sitting down on her bed downing the rest of her hot chocolate while she flips through the channels on the frankly miniscule television on her dresser. It’s quiet, nothing but the brief sounds of the TV and the hum of the heater, but Killian’s mind is loud with thoughts of Emma and Liam’s conversation and if she really did tell Liam that she loves Killian or if that’s something Liam inferred on his own. Or maybe she was simply keeping up the charade.

This week has fucked with his mind, and doesn’t know what’s up and what’s down anymore.

“KJ.”

“KJ!”

“What?” he jumps, blinking until he can focus on Emma. “Did you say something, love?”

“I asked where your head was because I’m pretty sure it was in a galaxy far, far away.”

“Something like that,” he awkwardly chuckles while scratching behind his ear. “You ready to go to bed?”

Her head cocks to the side, but she tells him yes before they both go into her small bathroom and shuffle around each other to go through their routines like they’ve done this every night for years and not simply the past few days. Soon enough, all the lights are turned off and they’re settling into their spots to sleep, breaths evening out.

Until they aren’t.

“Kilian?”

He turns his head and inches closer to Emma and can see the green of her eyes in the darkness. “Yes?”

“When you told Liam you were dating someone, you could have said anyone. You could have made a girl up, said someone at the university he didn’t know. You didn’t have to say me.”

“No, I supposed I didn’t.”

“So why did you?”

Killian swallows and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know how to answer this. She’s right. He shouldn’t have said her name. He should have said someone else’s, but he didn’t.

“Was it perhaps,” she continues as her toes drag along his calf and he feels the soft smoothness of her legs underneath her ridiculous snowman pajamas, “that you wanted it to be me? You wanted it to be true?”

“Emma – ”

Her hand reaches out to cup his face, palm against cheek, and sparks ignite over his skin. “Because I wish it was all true. I – ”

There have been times in his life where all Killian longed for was to hear the lilt of Emma’s voice. Now is not one of those times. Now, as his hands curl into the soft strands of her hair and his lips capture hers in the fiercest kiss they’ve shared in the past few days, all he cares about hearing is the little moan he got a glimpse of earlier making a reappearance in his life.

It does.

Almost too quickly, but Killian’s not complaining.

This is them kissing because they want to, even more so than all of the other times before, and Killian is absolutely savoring every little thing about Emma that he can – the soft lips, the insistent kiss, the sounds she makes.

God, the sounds.

She tastes like hot chocolate even more than she did before. It’s suddenly his favorite drink.

“So was this?” Emma starts.

“Yes,” he murmurs against her lips before trailing his teeth across her jaw and down her neck, grazing there and tasting the sweet salt of her skin. “Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

Emma’s resulting laugh quickly turns into a gasp when he nips at her neck, at her earlobe, down at her collarbone. He can’t stop tasting her, touching her, wanting to be with her. This week has been a torturous tease of what they could be, of what he’s wanted them to be, and now that it’s apparently real, he can’t seem to stop himself.

Emma tells him that she doesn’t want him to.

Killian is unsure of how much time he spends with his lips over Emma’s, the two of them getting to know each other in the deep light of the television, but frankly, he couldn’t give a damn about the lack of light. Liquid fire is running through his veins, and with every touch of Emma’s hand down his back and every caress of her lips, he melts a little bit more into Emma despite the fact that she still has on the snowman pajamas.

They’re endearing and very much Emma, and he nearly complains when she tugs down the pants, but that’s only nearly. He’s made a lot of stupid choices in his life, but refusing Emma Swan won’t be one of them.

“Can you be quiet for me, love?”

She nods her head, a smile on her face, and then he’s kissing her again while he pushes inside. She’s warm and wet and fucking glorious, and it takes everything in him not to gasp away from Emma and groan loud enough not only to wake up David and Mary Margaret but the entire town of Storybrooke.

That would certainly be something.

“I thought you said we were supposed to be quiet.”

He harshly thrusts into her at her tease, but she’s right. They are supposed to be quiet. Mostly they are, but the whispered grunts and quiet mumbles of each other’s names seem to fill the room and to mix in with the slapping of skin and the murmur of the television. Killian has to bite down onto Emma’s shoulder to tamper down his own cries of pleasure before turning his head into her ear to whisper to her.

“Fuck, you feel good like this.” His hands can’t stop moving over her, even with the limited space between them and around them, and Killian feels every hitch of Emma’s breath and hears every creak of this old mattress. His hand runs over her shirt, finding her breast underneath, and Emma buries her face in his neck as she cries out at the touch. “I have a feeling you’d feel good in any way.”

Her nails scratch against his back, and he swears that he hears her tell him to shut up.

Killian’s hand leaves her breast to find where they’re joined, rubbing in circles there as his peak gets closer and closer, waves of tension and pleasure washing over him as his heart beats faster than it ever has and every feeling in his body is focused on this and nothing else as Emma falls apart and he follows her soon after.

Their chests both heave as Killian falls off of being on top of Emma and onto the mattress, and the grin on his face has to stretch all the way to his eyes. Emma curls into him, resting her head on his chest, and he wraps his arm around her shoulder before kissing her hair.

This week doesn’t make a lick of sense, and he definitely doesn’t care.

“Believe it or not, that’s the first time I’ve ever had sex in my parents’ house.”

Killian barks out a laugh, one that he’s sure can be heard by everyone in the house, but he doesn’t give a damn, not anymore. “Funny, it’s the same for me.”

Emma slaps his chest before sitting up and pulling her messy, slightly damp hair into a bun. She’s still got on the ridiculous pajama shirt. “This has been a weird week, KJ.”

“But a good one, aye?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, leaning down and pressing her mouth over is, “the best. I’ll have to surprise you with your brother more often.”

“Good. I’m glad you know that I’ll have high standards for us going forward. Just wanted to state that upfront.”

Emma shakes her head as she laughs and places her knees on either side of his thighs to straddle his lap. “Merry Christmas, you idiot.”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

-/-

They never tell Liam that it was all a lie because, in truth, none of it was.

It seems that everyone knew that but them.

Two Christmases later, there are rings on both of their left hands, and David finally lets Killian be on Emma’s team in charades.

They obviously win.

#tell me it's real (it's real)#cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan #captain swan ff

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blessed-but-distressed · 5 years

Text

#FindEmmaSwanAFriend

Feeling left behind by her more successful, settled friends, Emma Swan moves to Scotland on a whim. Sure, she’s winning at Instagram, but something is still missing from her new life. Fortunately, her friends back home are on it. #FindEmmaSwanAFriend goes viral. Enter Killian Jones, reluctant columnist, who is on the hunt for his newest subject, and may just have found her. CS AU

***

also on ff.net and ao3

***

Tagging: @katie-dub , @wholockgal , @kat2609 , @whovianlunatic, @optomisticgirl, @ladyciaramiggles, @the-lady-of-misthaven, @emmaswanchoosesyou, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @biancaros3, @cigarettes-and-scotch-whisky, @ms-babs-gordon @ab-normality, @andiirivera, @fangirl-till-it-hurts, @onceuponaprincessworld , @natascha-remi-ronin, @kiwistreetswan and whoever else asks me.

***

A/N: Part 2 of 2. Hope you packed your crash helmets. This is a bumpy ride. Eternal thanks to @fraddit for holding my hand as I put this together. Maybe it’s not ready yet, but it’s spent enough time living rent-free in my head.

***

Killian

August W. Booth. Killian would never admit it, but he knew the name, even before Emma Swan had tumbled into his life. He’d remembered seeing it grace the spine of a book on the shelf of his old flat, back in London. He’d remembered asking Milah about it, and he remembered her non-committal response.

“It’s alright,” she’d said, flopping down onto the bed beside him. “If you’re into Americans who read too much Kafka travelling the world to ‘find themselves’.” She’d even done the air quotes, and he’d smiled at her honesty.

And in the months after she was gone, and he was left with nothing but her meagre possessions, he’d picked it up and read it cover to cover, in an effort to be closer to her.

But it really was just a book.

Killian didn’t want to ‘find himself’ on a Thai beach. Or follow in the footsteps of obscure European authors. Or even consume a questionable amount of hallucinogens. He had just wanted to wake up in a world where Milah still slept soundly beside him.

He’d donated the book to a charity shop on Camden High Street, along with most of Milah’s clothes.

He’d never imagined he’d meet the author. Or that he’d kind of hate him.

How to describe that first moment with August W. Booth? At first, Emma had been beside him, her hand held tight to his sleeve as they waded into the party throng. And then, with something that sounded like a choked sob, she was gone.

It was only when the crowd parted that he saw the spectacle for himself. Emma Swan, laughing. Damn near hysterical laughing, having launched herself at this bearded bloke in cable knit jumper. He’d barely caught her, but he had, even if he’d knocked over his beer in the process.

“Emma Swan, as I live and breathe!” The man, August, had declared, lifting her off her feet. “Have you gained weight?”

She smacked him on the shoulder, but her smile was still beatific, even as he set her back down. Killian had never seen that smile. Not once.

“Lost it, actually. Didn’t you hear? I run now. Like, habitually.”

“Now I come to think of it, Ruby did say something about that. But I assumed she was joking.”

Another smack. Another round of smiles as they talked over each other, trying to make up for lost time.

Killian was not a wallflower by nature, but something about the ready intimacy of their chatter kept him on the periphery, hovering awkwardly by a potted palm he highly suspected to be fake. He was just reaching out his hand to check when he felt a tug on his prosthetic.

She was dressed like Hilary Clinton, her blonde wig drunkenly askew. “Why’s your hand made of plastic?” she asked with all the tact of someone six vodka cranberries deep. “It is real? That’s sooo weird. Did you have some, like, terrible accident?”

Her accent was American, but much more the bubbly Southern Californian version than the one he was used to. He didn’t find it endearing.

“Hilary!” he greeted her with a forced smile, snatching his prosthetic back from her grasp. “Long time no see. How’s Bill? Still a complete cad?”

Her face was a picture of confusion. “My name is Hadley?” She looked down at her pantsuit, and then it seemed to dawn on her. “This is just a costume,” she explained slowly. “You know, for the party?”

“You don’t say! My apologies, Hadley. I mistook you for a woman of substance.”

It was not the most gentlemanly brushoff, but it did the trick.

Hadley squinted up at him for a few long moments, before tipping the rest of her drink down his front. “You’re a real jerk, you know that?”

He was, and he did. And thanks to her dramatics, the rest of the room were fast becoming aware of the fact too, even as her (seventh?) vodka cranberry seeped miserably into his shirt. He looked up just in time to catch Emma’s raised eyebrows as she approached, August following in her wake.

“Uh, do I want to know what you said to Hilary to piss her off?” she asked.

“Nothing she hadn’t already heard on the campaign trail,” Killian muttered, fanning his shirt away from where it was sticking fast to his chest. “I don’t know what it is about this party, Swan, but it doesn’t much approve of our outfits.”

Emma opened her mouth to retort, when a hand suddenly appeared in front of Killian’s face, attached to a weaselly-looking novelist.

“August Booth. You must be the Graham Humbert I’ve heard so much about?”

And he thought having a drink thrown over him would be the most aggrieving event of the evening.

“Killian Jones,” he corrected, delivering a slightly firmer handshake than necessary. “And I’m leaving.”

***

I feel like that could’ve gone better. ES

Are you okay? ES

Jones? ES

I’ve had worse things thrown at me than a girly cocktail, Swan. I dare say I’ll survive. KJ

Probably. But that’s not what I meant. ES

You should probably get back to your surprise visitor. He came a long way to see you. KJ

August is big boy. He can handle himself for a few minutes. Are you at home? ES

No. KJ

So you’re walking around at large with a huge purple stain down your shirt? ES

Apparently so. KJ

That’s not weird at all. ES

How fortuitous then, that I’m not your problem. KJ

Wow. Okay. I guess you’re not. Fuck you very much. ES

***

It was a foolish idea. He had reminders set on his phone that pinged at regular intervals to remind him of exactly how foolish an idea it was. And yet, there he was anyway. Half a bottle of Captain Morgan later, standing outside Tink’s building in Newington, leaning on the buzzer.

The intercom chirruped into life. “If you don’t have a pizza, I don’t know you.”

He grinned, and leaned close to the speaker. “Margherita Cheese, extra olives.”

There was a pregnant pause. And then the front door buzzed open.

It wasn’t terribly late, by their usual standards. Barely past sunset, now they weren’t long past the solstice. And yet when Tink opened the door she was definitely wearing pyjamas. The kind one actually slept in, rather than entertained in.

Not that she seemed to care either way, tearing the pizza box from his hands with barely more than a nod in his direction. He followed her in anyway, and sat in her kitchen as she devoured half of it before coming up for air.

“Hungry?” he teased.

“My flatmate has us all on the Keto diet,” she shrugged by way of explanation. “It’s been hell. You know how many Greggs franchises I have to walk past on my way to work? It was only a matter of time until I cracked. But I’m glad it was you,” she crooned to the last of her pizza. “You were worth the wait.”

“I can’t decide if this is pathetic or adorable,” Killian mused.

“Definitely pathetic,” Tink declared, closing the box at last. “But you’re one to talk. You look rough as guts. And what did you get all over your shirt?”

He knew he should’ve stopped home to change first.

“Vodka cranberry, I believe.”

“Ooh,” she said, folding her hands under her chin. “The plot thickens. A deliberate attack?”

“It... may have been.”

She snorted. “You always know how to charm a lady, Jones. Until you don’t.”

“You never seemed to mind,” he reminded her, with a sly smile in her direction.

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, before hooking a thumb in her direction. “Pathetic, remember?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said silky, letting his hand come to rest on hers. “In fact, I seem to recall a rather impressive list of talents…”

Tink slid her hand out from under his, to slap herself in the forehead. “So that’s what you’re doing here! It all makes sense now. You’ve had a shit night, and now you thought you’d show up, and what? I’d take you into my bedroom and help you forget all about it?”

“No, I just-”

“Just thought I was your standby girl. And I get it. I really do. Lord knows, I played the part enough times. But, honestly, Killian, wouldn’t you rather be with someone you’re actually crazy about? Like, oh, I don’t know...” She tapped her chin meaningfully, “...Emma?”

Something inside of him constricted at the sound of her name on Tink’s lips, and he didn’t like it. Didn’t want to think about her, or any of it. To hell with them.

“Who’s Emma?” he replied, leaning in again. “All I see is you.”

He saw the slap coming, but his reactions weren’t what they were.

“Hey, you know we’re friends, right?” she said, her words a direct contradiction to the stinging of his cheek. “I know we made a mess of things, but I thought we could still talk to each other. What’s going on? Because you’re not here because you find me completely irresistible.”

“Don’t I, love?”

It was a last ditch effort, but she wasn’t buying it.

“No, you don’t.” She sounded a little sad when she said it. “So start talking, or your drunken arse is getting an Uber. And you can start with what happened with Emma.”

“Nothing happened with Emma,” Killian muttered, looking around her kitchen for a possible source of alcohol. Any alcohol. So consumed was he by the search he didn’t catch Tink spiriting his phone from his pocket until she was already back in her chair again, scouring through his latest messages.

He really should’ve changed his passcode months ago.

“Oh, yeah, sure, I stand corrected,” she said, sliding it back across the table towards him with a roll of her eyes. “Nothing happened at all.”

Anger flaring, he snatched it back. “That’s really none of your business, love.”

“It is when you’re sitting in my kitchen, smelling like a distillery, and looking to use my body to distract you from your problems.”

God, he really was an arsehole. No wonder everyone he knew despised him. At last his eyes alighted on a stoppered bottle of brown liquid tucked away on top of the fridge. He stood up to retrieve it, and removed the stopper with his teeth.

He ducked down to take a whiff. Brandy. Perfect.

He found a pair of relatively clean glasses in the dish rack, and poured a generous measure into each.

“Peace offering?” he asked, slinging one of them in Tink’s direction.

Her glower didn’t abate any, but she accepted the glass anyway, wincing as her first sip hit her tongue.

“Needs water,” she said, handing it back with a cough.

Killian dutifully filled it up from the tap, and returned to his old place at the table. Just his performing this small act seemed to soften her somewhat, because the anger faded from her eyes.

“Look, maybe I’m wrong, but I’m trying a new thing. It’s called: ‘I only sleep with guys who are actually into me.’ And you know what? It’s going pretty good. I don’t wake up feeling like shit all the time.”

There was a novel concept.

“I’ve been an arsehole,” Killian summed up.

“Sometimes,” Tink agreed, with a comforting pat to his shoulder. “But I knew what your deal was. You get into bed with a guy with a missing hand and another girl’s name tattooed on his arm, you don’t really expect it’ll work out long-term.”

Now it was his turn to snort. “Aye, I suppose I deserved that.”

“You did,” she said, with an unapologetic grin. “But it’s okay. We were both just biding our time. Me until I grew some self-esteem, and you until your heart healed over a little.”

He wondered if it had. The wounds had been there so long, cut so deep, he rarely pressed them anymore. Rarely tested the strength of the scar tissue that had grown in their place.

“Well then,” he said, raising his glass. “To your self-esteem.”

Their glasses clinked, and he took his first sip. The brandy was thick across his tongue, but warming. A little burst of liquid courage to ask the question he’d been turning over and over in his mind since he’d glanced into Emma’s eyes on that settee, and felt things start to shift.

“You ever feel like there’s some things you just can’t get away from, no matter how hard you try?” he asked.

“My parents named me Tinker Bell. What do you think?” she replied, deadpan.

“Fair point,” he conceded, suddenly wishing he’d never opened his fool bloody mouth.

Unfortunately, Tink was not a mind reader and she didn’t let it go. “Are you talking about Milah?”

It had been so long since anyone had said her name aloud, he couldn’t entirely stop himself from flinching.

“Yes. No.” He shook his head. “Not entirely. I just… I’m not sure there’s ever really any overcoming the fundamental truths of our past.”

“Fundamental truths?” she asked, confused. “Like what?”

“Like, for example,” he began, wetting his lips with another syrupy slug of Brandy. “Everything my brother has ever done in his life has been to distance himself from our father. He’s got the upstanding, family man bit down. He’s a card-carrying member of the bourgeoisie. But when push comes to shove, they still made the exact same mistakes.”

She cocked her head to the side, considering this. “I mean, there’s a genetic component to addiction. And idiocy, arguably. But I don’t believe in that ‘sins of the father’ bullshit. You are who you make yourself into. I’m not saying it’s easy to break the pattern, but it’s doable.”

Killian wanted to believe that. But he wasn’t so sure he did.

“I couldn’t,” he pointed out. “When I lost Milah, I-” The rum in his stomach roiled, and he wondered if he was going to throw up. He wondered how long it would take for Tink to throw him out after. But after a moment, the feeling passed, and he realised she was still waiting for him to finish his thought. “I… I was no different,” he finished, feeling foolish.

“So you lost someone who mattered to you, and you handled it badly?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t make you your Dad. It makes you a person with a heartbeat.”

Killian stretched his prosthetic out on the table in front of him, considering the shiny piece of hardware. His most expensive souvenir from the shortest trip he’d ever taken.

“It’s not a liability, you know,” Tink said gently, nudging his prosthesis with her glass. “The hand. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

It was. And it wasn’t. Drunken Hilary’s ill-timed comments had certainly hit their mark, but it wasn’t just the hand. It was what it represented. The very permanent reminder that he was no longer entirely whole.

Most days, he was fine with that. It was much the same as his tattoo. He liked having that proof. However tenuous. However painful. It was a tether to a time he’d been truly happy, and it was a comfort to him, to know he hadn’t imagined it.

Lately, he’d begun to wonder if he’d held on too long.

Tink had said so herself, they’d never stood a chance. That hadn’t bothered him so much before, because he hadn’t really been looking for one. At least, not with Tink.

“I think I fucked up with Emma,” he blurted out.

“Oh, you think?” Tink sneered, downing the last of her glass.

“I… definitely fucked up with Emma,” he agreed, tipping his head back to finish his own drink. It burned, and he let it. He deserved it.

This time it was Tink who reached for the bottle, pouring them another measure each. She didn’t top this one off with water

“To bitchy texts,” she declared, holding her glass aloft. “Ruining everything.”

Killian drank to that.

“So, are we past the denial portion of the evening? You like her, right?” Tink had that twinkle in her eye again. The same one she’d had when she realised the stain on his shirt hadn’t been an accident. Dirt. That was all she wanted.

“I… sometimes.”

Tink rolled her eyes. “Way to commit”

“She’s attractive,” Killian shrugged. “And I find myself... attracted.”

Tink blew a raspberry. “Oh, c’mon. I read your column. You are not subtle. You might as well start drawing ‘KJ 4 ES’ hearts all over your homework.”

“They aren’t that bad,” Killian scoffed.

“Really? Have you read the comment section lately? People ship it!”

“People are little old ladies with too much time to spend on Facebook between soap operas,” Killian responded blithely. “I’m not overly concerned with their opinions.”

“How about mine? I saw you two sing an Elton John medley together, remember? That wasn’t attraction. That was fireworks.”

“It was stage theatrics,” he corrected. “Besides, it doesn’t matter now. She’s not the forgiving type. I’m not getting back in her good graces.”

“So why screw everything up in the first place? Jealousy?”

Yes.

Killian sighed. “A friend of hers is in town.”

“Like a special friend?”

“Like an old friend. Her oldest. She’s different with him. Happier. I’ve never seen her smile so much. I didn’t even know she could.”

“And you wish that was you? Making her happy?”

Yes.

Killian snorted. “She doesn’t want me.”

“How do you know? Did you ask her?”

As if that was something he could casually slip in a conversation somewhere. ‘Here’s your pint.. Oh, by the way, I quite fancy you and I was wondering if you fancy me back?’

“I think you’re forgetting she has already has a suitor.”

“Who? That Grant guy? They’ve been on what? Two dates? Two dates is not a relationship. Even I’ve spent more time with her than that.”

“Her friend certainly seemed to know all about him..” Killian swallowed back the bile in his throat at the thought.

Tink looked skeptical. “I doubt there’s much to know.”

“And I’ll remind you that this is all for naught, since we’ve established that I made a complete tit of myself, and she’s never speaking to me again.”

They both went silent at the thought. Tink refreshed their drinks.

“Well, then,” she said, offering up her glass for another impromptu toast. “Here’s to learning how to grovel.”

***

I’m sorry. I’m a complete arse. KJ

Yep. ES

***

Killian awoke in a strange room, his mouth dry and his virtue intact. It took him a moment of watching the dust motes dance in the shaft of morning light above his head to figure out exactly where he was.

Tink’s flat. It looked different by day. Shabbier. More lived in. He’d ended up on the sofa somehow, alone, twisted up in a crochet blanket into a strange configuration that would give him hell later. He was still wearing all of his clothes. Even the shirt with the cranberry stain down the front.

He could hear a radio somewhere nearby, giving a bleak update on the state of traffic on the City Bypass. Pipes shuddered, and soft feminine whispers punctuated the spaces between. The smell of burnt coffee grounds wafting up from the cafe downstairs, as the city woke to a new day.

He lay his head back down, and scrubbed at his face with his hand.

How many drinks had it been, all told? Eighty? Too many, he admitted to himself, as he surfed an accompanying wave of nausea. It was time to find a new crutch. He wasn’t a student anymore.

“Hey, you’re up.” Tink’s voice was fuel to his headache, but her tone was friendly. He sat up to see her standing in the doorway, holding a giant steaming mug in her hands. The underlying tension of their usual morning after routine was gone. She looked comfortable, in a way he’d rarely seen.

“That for me?” he asked, hopefully.

“It is. Thought it might help with the, ah, sore head.”

It did. From the very first sip, Killian felt the fog in his head clearing, and life returning to his limbs. “Thanks, love.”

She nodded, and stepped back. “I was going to let you sleep, but uh, well… your sister-in-law is here.”

Killian nearly dropped the mug. “Elsa’s here?”

“In the kitchen. She showed up about ten minutes ago. You want me to send her in?”

Elsa. In Tink’s kitchen. Like his life hadn’t been strange enough lately.

“What is she-?”

“She didn’t say. But she-” Tink hesitated. “She looks rough. Kind of upset, you know?”

No, he didn’t know. Elsa was the queen of poise. She rarely let her feelings show, least of all to practical strangers. Was it Liam? The boys? Dammit, where was his phone? Had something happened?

He was already on his feet when Elsa rounded the doorway. And even with the warning, it was still a shock to see her. She did, indeed, look rough. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, her face noticeably puffy. She’d forgone the implacable facade she carried with her into the outside world.

“I’ll just… leave you two alone,” Tink said, backing out of the room.

He took a few steps towards Elsa, and then hesitated. “Is everyone-”

“Everyone’s fine. Alive. Healthy. I promise.” She tried for a reassuring smile, but it did nothing of the sort. “Robin told me you might be here. And I’m really sorry to intrude-”

“Elsa,” he said firmly, grasping her by the shoulders. “You’re never intruding. What’s happened?”

She bit her lip, but a single tear still managed to escape, unbidden, trailing down her fair cheek. “You know, I was beginning to think he was cheating on me?” She rolled her eyes heavenward, like that might stem the tide.

Oh god.

“He’d never.” Coming to Liam’s defence was automatic at this point. A reflex.

“No,” she agreed. “He’ll lie, and he’ll steal, and he’ll gamble, but he won’t cheat.” The sound might’ve been a laugh, if it wasn’t so bitter. So hard. “I know everything. About the money. Weaver. He called me at work, asked after the children. He knew their names. Where they go to school. He even knew the colour of Lachie’s scooter!”

Fear slid into his abdomen like a blade, sharp and cold. “He wouldn’t-”

“He won’t!” Elsa’s eyes flashed defiantly. “I paid him his money. I did everything he asked. Malcolm Weaver has no reason to come near any of us, ever again.”

It was a curious mixture of relief and anxiety, all muddled together, making Killian’s head swim. And somewhere in the mix, guilt. A sense of culpability. “I should’ve told-”

“No,” she said, eyes shining with renewed anger. “My husband should’ve told me. He should’ve trusted me, like I thought I trusted him. And he never should’ve put you in the position of having to lie for him. Or lie to your family. And your eye-”

Her tears were flowing freely now, and Killian’s grip on her arms tightened. “He’s an idiot. And he’s too proud for his own good. But you know he never wanted to hurt you, or disappoint you. You or the boys.”

“I know,” Elsa hiccuped. “But he did. Not because he made a mistake-” She physically swatted the idea away. “We all do that. But because he couldn’t be honest with me. That’s not the marriage I thought I had.”

“Had?” The way she’s said it, it sounded so… final.

Elsa swiped a sleeve across her cheeks, mopping up her tears. “I love him, Killian. You know I love him. But I can’t look at him right now. Anna asked me to stay. I’ll take the boys to New York for the summer. I don’t need them getting caught up in all this.”

“But you are coming back?” The lump in Killian’s throat had nearly doubled. As much as he’d resented being the black sheep in a flock of prize Merinos, he couldn’t quite imagine a life now without them.

Elsa smiled a dim smile. “This is home. And you Jones Boys, you’re home too,” she said, gathering him into a fierce hug. “And you’re always going to be a part of this family, with or without Liam. You know that, don’t you?”

It was an oft-repeated phrase of hers. Always trying to include him. Always trying to set him at ease. But it had never really rung true, before. He’d never been wholly convinced. They were a family, and he was an interloper. A squatter. He’d come to terms with that.

It wasn’t until he found himself crushed under the weight of Elsa’s furious embrace that he finally let himself see it. It wasn’t just Elsa’s bird bones that had a hold on him. It was her affection for him. Her love. The well ran deep, the force more formidable than he would have imagined. A sister’s love.

“Aye,” he said, letting his chin rest atop her shoulder. “I know that.”

They separated a bit, and she smiled her first real smile. “Took you long enough.”

“I’m a Jones,” he shrugged wryly. “We’re not the smartest.”

“No,” Elsa agreed, sweeping his hair from his forehead like he’d watched her do for Lachie and Callum a thousand times. A protective, nurturing gesture. Automatic as breathing. “And what did you do to your shirt?”

***

I am your problem. That is, I wish to be your problem. KJ

I confess: I was an almighty dickhead the other night. And if you don’t forgive me for that, I would understand. KJ

I made you feel as if you weren’t important to me, but that isn’t true. We’re friends. Good friends, I hope. I was angry at so many people that night, but none of them were you. You just got caught in the crossfire, and I can only apologise for that. I would like to do so in person, if you’d permit me. KJ

You give good apology, Killian Jones. But I know how good you are with words. ES

Not good enough, apparently. KJ

You know you made me feel like an idiot, right? For thinking we were friends? ES

We are friends. I’m just a spectacularly bad one, sometimes. I could blame the drink, or the stress of Liam’s secret, or Hilary’s tactless comments about my hand, or August not having a clue who I was, or even how fucking raw I was after sitting on that settee with you. But the truth is, sometimes I’m not quite the man I want to be. KJ

Maybe you don’t want to be friends with someone like that. I wouldn’t blame you. But I also think you understand, perhaps better than anyone, why we push people away without really meaning to. KJ

A little fucked up. A little scared. KJ

I understand. ES

I mean, I’m still kind of pissed. ES

But I get it. ES

Pint? KJ

Busy. I’m babysitting a novelist, remember? They’re very high maintenance. ES

Bring him along. Don’t you think it’s about time he learned of the wonder that is Open Mic Night? They moved it to Friday this week. KJ

Oh no. That can only end in heartbreak. ES

Heartbreak Hotel ;-) KJ.

Maybe next time, Jones. ES

I look forward to it, Swan. KJ

***

Emma and her novelist never made an appearance at Open Mic Night, though Killian spent half the night watching the door anyway. Not the entire night, mind. Robin was being far too entertaining for that.

His bereaved, beloved Robin, who’d taken the stage and was attempting a version of Wild Thing complete with a series of hip gyrations which made Eddie Vedder’s relationship with his microphone stand seem chaste.

A courtship display if Killian had ever seen one. All directed at the brunette in the front row, who looked decidedly more like the university administrator she was than Killian remembered last time he’d seen her. As Wonder Woman. Out of costume, she was better recognised as Regina Mills, University Vice-Chancellor.

Apparently they were dating now. And things were going well.

He could only confess to a little jealousy. Robin, more than anyone he knew, deserved a little happiness. Though when things started to get hot and heavy after Robin’s encore, Killian was only too happy to make his excuses.

***

Returning home to the big empty house in Merchiston brought mixed feelings. Killian still preferred his bed to the medieval torture device which was Tink’s sofa, but there was something unnerving about the place with the boys gone. Without laughter, or chaos, or the 60% chance of treading on a stray Lego brick with your bare feet at any given moment.

He was almost disappointed when he made it down the hallway unscathed in the dark. Right up until the moment he switched on his bedroom light, and found a dark clad figure standing directly before him.

His scream was not particularly masculine. Not as he stumbled backwards, and not as he picked up the nearest object and threw it with all of his might at his would-be attacker.

The boot caught the figure upside the head, hard enough to have him swearing. By the second string of curses, Killian realised his mistake.

“Bloody hell, Liam. Do you have a death wish?” he asked, dropping the second boot and coming to his brother’s side. “I thought I was about to meet my fucking maker.”

“My. Mistake,” Liam ground out through gritted teeth, hands still clutched to his head where Killian had struck his blow. Liam didn’t have to ask who he’d mistaken him for. Even after Elsa’s intervention, the spectre of Weaver’s goons loomed large in their imaginations.

And that’s when he saw it, lying on the rug where it had fallen during their altercation. The Galaxy bar.

Liam’s eyes followed his gaze, crinkling slightly despite his pain. “Happy St Killian’s Day, little brother.”

***

-KJ has sent you a document file-

What’s this? ES

I’m sure even you can recognise a Word document when you see one, Swan. KJ

I mean, why am I getting it? You’ve never sent me a copy of your column before it’s published before. ES

I’m trying something new. It’s called ‘consideration for other people’s feelings’. KJ

Huh. Seems kind of out of character for you. ES

I probably deserved that. KJ

You definitely did. ES

This column touches on some… more sensitive topics. I’d feel more comfortable having your approval before I took it to Liam. Would you please indulge me? KJ

Fiiiine. ES

... ES

Um. Wow. ES

Too personal. Understood. Consider it vanquished. KJ

No! I mean, yeah, it’s personal. But it’s… real. I never really… It’s good, Killian. And if Liam doesn’t have a problem with it, then I don’t have a problem with it. ES

You’re positive? Once I post this, there’s no taking it back. KJ

Positive. ES

As you wish. KJ

#findemmaswanafriend #cs au #cs ff #cs ff au #the long lost return #and a boatload of angst

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 5 years

Text

All We Want For Christmas, pt.3

Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: Marvel AU. Will be a few parts. PG-13

Warnings: divorce, therapy, childhood trauma. WANT TO BE TAGGED? COMMENT OR SEND ASK!

Summary: Two years after divorcing, Steve and you live separate lives. Christmas is a hard time for the two of you, but this Christmas, miracles are up in the air. Will the two of you reunite and move past the hurt? Or will the two of you be alone under the mistletoe?

masterlist

It was cold out, but you had layered up, walking alongside Natasha as the two of you strolled downtown. After a bit of shopping and a warm lunch, Nat mentioned an ice skating rink near the the large Christmas tree displayed in the center of a shopping plaza. You were hesitated at first, not really a skater, but in the spirit of Christmas, you said yes.

Boy, did you regret it.

When the two of you arrived, Natasha announced she would guard the few shopping bags you two had acquired, while you went to skate. When you protested, she insisted in a way that left no room for a rebuttal - she truly was the beholder of the phrase “If looks could kill”. It had been ages since you ice skated, the last time being with Steve. It was a day like this, Christmas shopping with a late lunch and Steve insisting that he teach you to skate. He had helped you put on the skates, held your hand the entire acting as a guide and when you inevitably fell, he was there to help you back up.

Now, you found yourself alone, clutching to the railing, doing your best to hold ground. Your eyes snapped over to where Natasha sat, amusement written all over her beautiful face as she waved. Unable to wave back, you carefully turned your back to her and gripped at the railing, remembering the lesson Steve had given you years ago. He was so patient with you, laughing as you swore and cursed, declaring you would never cease to skate again.

But here you were.

Alone.

“Stop being a chicken shit,” you grumble loudly, taking a deep breath as you pushed off the wall. Your hands flew out, hoping to balance yourself as you scooted along - a few wobbles here and there before it came back naturally. You guess skating alone wasn’t so bad, it felt nice in a way - very therapeutic, and that was all the rage in your life right now. Feeling optimistic independent, you bravely moved to the center of the rink passed the couples holding hands and families laughing together. Sure, you were a lone wolf among the masses, but that was okay - you were okay.

Except you weren’t.

There was no more deep down feelings hiding, you knew what the problem was, but you had ruined that outcome of happiness two years ago with a signature. How it was so easy to sign the divorce papers was beyond you, what kind of person were you back then? An unfeeling, emotionally scarred person, someone you were trying to understand. Gliding like a duckling across the ice, you started to feel a bit more confident until a kid no older than seven swished past you, throwing you off balance. Your hands flailed in the air as you tried to reach out for anything, anyone, but ten seconds into the entire mishap you knew you were going down. Accepting the inevitable, your body relaxed and gravity started to do it’s thing until it didn’t. The ice never touched your back, but two strong hands did.

“You never were great on the ice.”

It was Steve, the lights above shining down and forming an almost halo around his head as he smiled fondly at you, bringing you back up on two steady feet. His hands perched on your waist and he asked if you were okay.

“I almost ate shit in front of a crowd of strangers and now my ex-husband is somehow here...in the right place, at the right time…”

“Bucky wanted to come ice skating…”

“So did Natasha,” you said putting two and two together. Slowly the two of you turned to where Natasha was sitting now occupied by a guilty looking Bucky, the two pretending to be deep in conversation. “Our friends are up to no good.”

Sighing, Steve agreed and escorted you to the edge of the rink. He made sure you were steady before letting you go, settling next to you against the wall. Holding onto the railing, you looked out toward the people skating, they all looked happy. Were you happy?

“I’m sorry for whatever they are up too, I’ll talk to Buck.”

“It’s fine,” you said, glancing over at Steve. He was so handsome in the afternoon light, he was handsome all the time but he was more than that. Steve was kind, loyal, strong, funny, and sincere - all the things you had wanted so badly in a partner. Those things were what probably kept him from divorcing you sooner, his faith in people and the unwillingness to back down at times. You knew you had hurt him and seeing him now, always the hero, made you feel even more guilty.

“I’ve been in therapy for a year now.”

Steve was quiet for a moment, taking in the new information you shared with him. He wasn’t sure how he felt, for one he was happy you had someone to talk to, but another part of him wondered if it was because of him.

“You seem different.”

“I am.”

He smiled at you softly, clearing his throat as the light of the afternoon sun shined down on your face, making it hard for him to breath. You were always so warm looking, he didn’t know how to explain it in words. Always made him feel safe, comfort in his own skin - he just wish could do the same for you.

“I’m glad you’re happy now.”

Your eyes snapped over to him, fingers burling against the metal rail, trying hard your balance. If he only knew how unhappy you were. How awful things had been without him, that yes, you were in therapy and trying to understand why you are the way you are, but without him in your life, nothing made sense.

“Is anyone really ever happy?”

“I was.”

His blue eyes watered a bit and you couldn’t help but reach an unsteady hand over to his arm, holding onto his wrist as he smiled again at you.

“I was too.”

Nodding wearily, he chuckled. “This might be weird, but you want to grab a coffee?”

“Right now?”

“Sure, I think we can ditch the two busybodies.”

Laughing, you thought back to the suggestion of Tinder and dating - you hadn’t felt truly ready but coffee with your ex-husband seemed reasonable in an odd way. Looking to where Nat and Bucky were seated, the two so obviously pretending to now be looking at Steve and you, you turned back to Steve.

“What do you say we meet in an hour?”

“The coffee shop from last week?” Steve asked, unable to help the beaming feeling swelling in his chest as you grinned at him.

“Yeah.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Forever tags:

@theweirdlunatic @supernaturallymarvellous @dancewaterdance02@yeahbutmarvel@infinity1321

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This series tags:

@overrthinker @castiels-sunflowers @theonelittleone @coffeebooksandfandom @joycelovedorial@ailynalonso15 @yaszx @isysen @rogueobservation @mizzzpink @youngbouquettragedy@blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @bluefaeriefury @fuzzy-panda @cookiecakeslive @phoenix-whiskey-tears @patzammit @lydklein1

#all we want for christmas series #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve x reader #marvel imagine #au

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everlastingcaptainswan · 5 years

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Mark Your Calendars (2/13) Modern AU

Summary: 12 holidays. 2 stubborn people in love. One very interesting year.

Notes: Hey guys I’m going to super busy next week, so I won’t have time to post this chapter on Valentine’s Day. I’m posting the chapter a little early when I actually have some time, but I’m sure none of you mind :) Things heat up in this chapter so enjoy!

FF Ao3

Chapter Two: Valentine’s Day

Emma was having a bad day. Plain and simple, there is no beating around the bush. One guy shot at her, another one tried to stab her, but just grazed her with his knife. Which ruined one of her favorite sweaters, might she add. Every man was a complete asshole. It was Valentine’s Day as well, one of the holidays that Emma hates the most. Mostly because it’s a holiday made for couples and if you’re alone on this holiday it’s considered pathetic, which is just ridiculous. There are flowers and chocolate in every store to remind her. She can’t get away from it no matter where she goes. Frankly it pisses her off to no end. Everyone of her friends knows it. They usually leave her alone on this day, at least she hopes they do today. Although they have been known to meddle, so really she wouldn’t be surprised if they butt in.

To top off her bad day, Killian Jones had the nerve to send her flowers with an insulting card. She discovered them after coming back from the ER where she had to get few stitches from her graze with a knife.

The flowers are beautiful, lillies are Emma favorite. She has no idea how Killian would know that, but the bouquet is beautiful and elegant. The card reads: Swan, I quite fancy you from time to time when you’re not yelling at me. Killian

How dare he send her flowers with a rude card? Who the the hell does he think he is? They kissed one time (a fact which Emma is trying to forget about). Since then they have seen each other, but their friends have usually been around. Nothing has been said, however there have been some small touches and glances exchanged. Glances where she feels like he can see through her and into her soul. They never last long because she always looks away because his gaze is too intense, too knowing. Like he knows that there are some nights she fantasizes about that kiss before scolding herself for doing so.

He’s supposed to the asshole friend of her brother. Killian Jones is supposed to be the bane of her existence, the man who she fights with constantly and now she has fantasies about him. She doesn’t quite know what to make of it. Now, he sends her flowers to what be a dick? What was the point? He always had to be an ass.

August (her boss and friend) walks up to her desk in the bail bonds office with a smirk on his face.

“Who are the flowers from?”

“No one important,” she sighs, leaving them on her desk. They were simply too pretty to throw away that would be a waste.

“A likely story. Someone from your weird friend group?” August pushes.

“Yeah something like that,” she grumbles and August just smirks again.

“Fill out this form for insurance bullshit.” August hands her a packet of papers and she glares at him.

“All of it?” It was already almost five and Emma really wants to go home. All she wants to wear sweatpants, watch netflix, and maybe drink some wine. No, definitely drink some wine.

“I just need the first five pages from you the rest is for me,” he reassures her. Emma just nods and sits down at her desk. Before getting started on the paperwork Emma pulls out her phone. Killian is going to get a piece of her mind.

ES: Seriously? You’re sending me flowers on Valentines Day to be dick? Real smooth move. Emma smiles, satisfied with her response. She silences her phone and places it face down on her desk to focus on the packet in front of her. The paperwork doesn’t take too long and she’s out of there in under an hour. She gives it to August before leaving for the night with the flowers in tucked in her arm. He gives her a bemused look before telling her goodnight.

Back at her apartment Elsa is waiting for Emma with a bottle of wine in hand.

“I never should have given you a key,” Emma grumbles and Elsa’s eyes go wide at what Emma is carrying.

“You love me and you know it. I sent you a text that I’d be here didn’t you get it?” Elsa asks still eyeing the bouquet in Emma’s arms.

“I didn’t check my phone on the way home. It’s been a long day,” she sighs as she takes off her jacket.

“Well good thing I brought some wine then isn’t it?” Elsa smirks, searching for Emma’s bottle opener.

“You must have read my mind. The next drawer down,” Emma directs her. Elsa finds it and gets to work opening the bottle.

“So are we going to talk about the flowers?” Elsa asks as Emma pulls down two glasses for them.

“Are we going to talk about why you’re not with Liam?” Emma throws back at her.

“Liam had to stay late, so we pushed dinner back. Your turn,” Elsa says with a raised eyebrow.

“Killian just sent them to be a dick. I have no clue what possessed him to do such a thing, but there you go,” Emma shrugs and Elsa pours her a generous amount of wine.

“Killian Jones sent you flowers?!?! The same Killian who you fight with constantly? The same one who can never take his eyes off you? The same one you claim to hate?” Elsa asks in a surprised tone.

“Yes that one, do we know another Killian Jones?” Emma takes a very big gulp from her wine glass.

“No, but that is not the point, Emma. How do you know he was being a dick?” Her friend asks thoroughly confused.

“Read the damn, card!” Emma throws her hands into the air. Elsa sets down her glass and picks the card out from the flowers. She looks from the card to Emma to the card again.

“How is this being a dick, please explain?” Elsa asks her.

“He insulted me with flowers!” Emma places her hands on her hips, not sure why Elsa was not getting whatever was going on here.

“Where is the insult?”

“The shouting thing,” Emma says with a shake of her head. Elsa just glares at her.

“Did you get a concussion today? Is that what happened at work? Because if you didn’t I don’t know how you’re this stupid.” Elsa snaps.

“No, I did not. What on earth are you talking about?” Now it’s Emma’s turn to be confused.

“This card says he likes you, idiot. He literally said he fancies you when you’re not yelling at him. He sent them to be nice. What the hell made you think he was being a dick?” Elsa practically yells.

“I-” Emma begins, but really she has no idea how she missed that, “I don’t really know.”

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head today?” Elsa asks concerned.

“No, just a light stabbing, I had to go to the ER and they checked me out. No head injury,” Emma tells her.

“A LIGHT STABBING!?! Emma, what the hell?” Elsa says looking at her friend with a lot of concern.

“The knife grazed me. I needed a couple stitches,” Emma shrugs.

“We will come back to that another time, I assure you. Did you say anything to Killian about the flowers?” Elsa asks her annoyed.

“Yes…” Emma cringes. Elsa just rolls her eyes.

“Give me your phone,” Elsa says simply with her hand out reached. Emma slaps the phone into her friend’s hand. Elsa quickly unlocks it and opens her messages.

“Oh my god, Emma! Really?” Emma nods, not making eye contact with her friend.

“How bad is it?” Emma asks.

“Well would you like to know his response?” Elsa asks. Emma rushes over to Elsa’s side to see what he said.

KJ: What are you talking about? Then a few minutes later. KJ: Swan, I have no clue what happened, but I didn’t mean to be a dick.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Emma mutters.

“Yeah I think you need to apologize to him,” Elsa tells her. Emma throws her head back and ignores the urge to stomp her foot like a child.

“I have to?” Emma asks. Elsa places her hand on shoulder.

“Yes, you do. Now, I have to leave to meet Liam. Please do the right thing and apologize,” she tells Emma.

“Fuck, you’re right. I promise I will,” Emma says, annoyed with her own stupidity. Elsa gives her a hug.

“Good and I want to hear all about it,” Elsa says as she shrugs on her coat. Emma just nods and shuts the door behind her friend. God dammit. She really should apologize to him. Emma pulls out her phone and opens her messages.

ES: Okay I was an idiot. Are you home? I’d like to explain myself. Emma sends it before she can really think about it. She should explain in person because texting isn’t really her strong suit. Clearly. A few minutes later her phone pings.

KJ: Yes, come over whenever you’re ready. Emma slips on her jacket and grabs her keys before leaving. Killian doesn’t live far from her so she walks there, thinking about what she should say to him. She gets to his building and he buzzes her up. She stops in front of his door, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. How the hell should she even explain this to him?

Finally, she knocks and he comes to the door. Killian has a look of uncertainty on his face.

“Can I come in?” she asks. Killian steps to the side.

“Of course,” he says quietly. She steps in and he shuts the door behind her. Damn him he looks really good in his gray henley and black jeans.

“So I had a bad day at work, not really an excuse, but for some reason I thought you were trying to be a dick with flowers. It doesn’t quite make a lot of sense, but you know I was being an idiot. Anyway, I am sorry for sending that text and being a complete ass when you did something that was actually very nice,” She says quickly under his intense gaze.

“Thank you for apologizing. I must admit I was quite confused by the whole ordeal. Would you like drink?” he asks her.

“What? You want to have a drink with me?” she asks, surprised. This is not how she saw this going at all. She thought he’d taunt her or be an ass about it (which she would totally deserve).

“It’s certainly not the first time you’ve called me a dick and I doubt it will be the last,” he chuckles and she shrugs, “I meant what was on the card. I can’t stop thinking about that kiss on New Years and well honestly it sounds like you need one,” he shrugs.

“Oh okay. Sure,” she nods.

“Please take a seat, make yourself comfortable,” he nods toward the couch. She sits down, finally relaxing for the first time today.

“I’m afraid all I have is rum, not your usual whiskey,” he tells her from the kitchen.

“Rum is perfectly fine,” she tells him from her spot on the couch. He walks over two glasses in hand and passes one to her. She accepts and he sits next to her on the couch.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

“Do you want to talk about your day or sit in silence until the food I ordered arrives?” he asks her. Emma’s thrown by this interaction entirely. She’s known Killian Jones for a while and really has only seen the asshole side of him. The one that teases her constantly or fights with her. Right now, he’s being nice and thoughtful. She’s never seen him like this. Ever.

“You ordered food?” she asks.

“Aye, some chinese. I ordered enough for two, you’re welcome to some,” he tells her.

“Yeah that’d be nice,” she admits right before her stomach grumbles. He smiles at this and she chuckles.

“Everyone was an ass today, that’s all. Oh and annoying paperwork,” she adds. She won’t tell him about the gun wielding skip or the almost stabbing, he would just tell David. She definitely doesn’t need a lecture from her brother right now.

“I understand annoying paperwork, all too much,” he tells her. Not too long after the buzzer rings and Killian hops up to answer it. When Killian brings the food in the smell is amazing and Emma is about ready to eat her own hand. She gets up to see what he ordered.

“Swan, I would’ve brought it to you,” he tells her.

“I’m sure you would’ve, but I’m curious and I want to know what you ordered,” she scoffs. He just rolls his eyes.

“Potstickers, shrimp lo mein for me and kung pao chicken for you,” he tells her.

“That’s my favorite, how did you know?” she asks confused.

“I’m more observant than I appear, Swan,” he says before handing her the container and chopsticks. Both starving they shovel down the food quickly without much conversation. Killian turns on Netflix and they watch some show Emma’s seen before. They still don’t say much, except for some laughter here and there. Emma’s pretty sure this is the longest they’ve gone without fighting before. They usually fight and bicker, but tonight she has seen a completely different side of him. He’s kind and thoughtful, all the things she thought he wasn’t. Could she have been wrong about him this whole time?

Emma looks over at him and finds his striking blue eyes on her. Since she’s caught him staring at her Killian blushes. Without really thinking about it she leans over and kisses him because well she wants to badly and she can’t think of a reason to not kiss him. Killian’s hand caresses her cheek, his other hand on her hip pulling her closer. Emma shifts quickly, straddling him. One of her hands tangled in his hair. God, kissing him is like nothing else. His soft lips and light, exploring touches. However when his hand touches where her stitches are she pulls away and winces.

“Emma, are you okay?” he asks, concerned. His eyes searching hers.

“I did say today was bad, right? This skip tried to stab me and his knife may have grazed me a little bit,” she shrugs, not looking him in the eye.

“Emma, you have to be careful,” he tells her before pulling up her sweater to examine her wound. He finds gauze covering the stitches.

“I went to the ER and I was being careful that would be why I’m alive and not dead in an alley,” she tells him. His hand is on her cheek once again, the touch light and caring.

“You know what I mean. No wonder you had such a bad day,” he says understanding her turmoil and she bites her lip.

“Please don’t tell David,” she says quietly. He gives her a distressing look.

“I- all right I won’t,” he nods. He wanted to say like hell he would, but it would just cause more trouble for her.

“Thank you, he just worries too much,” she explains. Killian nods. David worries a lot about Emma and her job. David has always felt the need to protect her at all costs. Emma interrupts his train of thought by kissing him once again. He could kiss her for all of his days and never complain. Her hands make their way under his shirt and he helps her get her sweater off. Killian’s careful to not touch the gauze covered area again. All the kissing and tender touches leaves Emma’s skin on fire and she wants more. More of him. She pulls away, leaning her forehead against his.

“Bedroom?” she asks feeling his erection growing beneath her.

“Are you sure?” he asks her.

“Positive,” she says, never wanting anything more. He grasps her back pulling her closer into him. He stands carefully holding onto her. Emma wraps her legs around him. She surges forward kissing him again. He guides the toward his room the best he can. To be quite honest the beautiful blonde in his arms is very distracting. Especially when she grinds down on his erection. The little minx.

Emma leans back to open the door one handed holding onto Killian tightly with the other.

“Thank you, love.” She smiles as he carries her into the room. He gently lies Emma down on the bed and they both work quickly to remove their pants and his shirt. Killian carefully peels her underwear off before pushing his own boxers to the ground. Every touch he gives her is light and caring, and damn does it feel good. She tries to sit up, but winces and falls back. Killian’s eyes find hers.

“Love, lie back. Let me take care of you,” he tells her and she nods, not trusting her own voice. She never lets anyone take care of, she never lets anyone see her this vulnerable. He takes her hand in his and presses a kiss into it. She blushes. Killian drops her hand and begins trailing kisses up her thighs. His thumb reaches her clit and rubs small circles. He places several kisses on her outer lips before capturing her clit with his lips. Emma bites her lip at this. Killian slides one finger inside of her and then another. Emma let’s go of her lip and lets her moans fill the bedroom. His lips leave her clit and their eyes meet.

“That’s it love let me hear you,” he smirks with a few aggressive pumps of his fingers. When his lips come back to her clit she calls out his name. He feverishly moves his fingers in and out of her and moves his tongue over her clit until he can feel her walls flutter around him. She lifts her head up and their eyes meet.

“I need you inside of me, now,” she tells him before pulling him closer. He’s careful with her, not wanting to pull out any of the stitches she received today. He rolls on a condom before sliding into her. They release sounds of pleasure. Killian never imagined his day quite ending like this. He’s found her attractive since the moment they met, but to have her in his bed is something else. He moves slowly, one of their hands intertwined above her head. Their lips gliding over one another. Killian snaps his hips forward causing Emma to moan his name. Gods it’s a beautiful sound, one he could go on hearing forever. They always fought and bickered, but he knew that just clouded other emotions that lay down deep for both of them. Emotions they weren’t ready to admit yet. Emotions that had finally come to the surface after all these years.

His thumb goes to her clit and makes lazy, slow circles around it causing Emma to writhe underneath him. He moves a little faster still conscious of her injuries, his thumb increasing in speed as well. Finally her back arches off the bed and her walls clenching around spurring his own climax as he spills into the condom. Carefully he flops down onto his bed beside her. He rolls off the bed, discarding the condom before coming back to her.

Emma lays her head on Killian’s chest both of them a little out of breath. She should leave, she normally leaves after sex and collapses in her own bed. This time though Emma doesn’t want to leave and that’s a little terrifying. But she’s tired and doesn’t quite think her legs will allow her to move. She’ll close her eyes rest for a couple minutes then leave. Yeah that’s definitely a good plan.

As it turns out it was a horrible plan because Emma fell asleep and didn’t wake up until the early morning hours with Killian’s arms wrapped around her and pain blossoming where her stitches are. He hums at her movements, just barely waking up himself.

“Morning, love,” he mumbles pressing a kiss into her shoulder.

“Morning,” she says clearing her throat, frowning. He rolls away from her, disentangling their limbs. She carefully sits up, her limbs stiff and certain places especially sore.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks. Emma clenches her jaw before answering.

“The stitches aren’t feeling that great,” she says, her voice tense.

“Did they give you anything for the pain?” he asks, concerned.

“Um yeah. They’re in my jacket pocket,” she mutters, moving to get out of the bed. He places a hand on her shoulder and she stops.

“I’ll get it,” he tells her before leaving the room. Killian comes back with a prescription pill bottle in hand and a glass of water.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she scoffs, taking the pill bottle from him.

“Swan, I’m trying to be gentleman here,” he teases her. She swallows the pills and takes the water from his hand, using it to wash down the pills.

“A gentleman? You?” she teases him right back.

“I’m always a gentleman,” he says with a cocky grin as he walks away from her. There’s a beat of silence between them.

“What do we do now?” she asks, turning to face him.

“Well I imagine you need to get to work and so do I,” he shrugs, searching through his dresser drawers.

“Killian, that is not what I meant at all,” she says with a raised eyebrow. He just chuckles.

“I know what you meant, Swan. What do you want?” he asks, turning to face her with something akin to disappointment in his eyes.

“I’m not sure yet, but I don’t want our nosey friends meddling in our business until we know whatever this is,” she says meeting his fierce blue eyes. He walks up to her, standing in front of her with no shirt on, which is extremely distracting.

“As you wish, Swan. I do want you to know one thing,” He takes her hand in his and pulls Emma gently to her feet, “When I win your heart and I will, it won’t be trick or that we simply fell into bed together. It will be because you want me.” Emma can practically hear her heartbeat in her ears. His gaze so intense and serious. She’s never felt like this before. Hell she’s never seen him like this before.

“Is that your way of telling me that you won’t sleep with me again until we slap a label on this?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh definitely not. I’m just letting you know that I’m not going anywhere,” he tells her before pulling her into his arms. Killian puts a lot of passion into the kiss. He knows Emma is the kind of person who believes in actions more than words. Now that he knows what it is like to be with Emma Swan he is never letting her go.

After losing track of time kissing Killian they break apart and she leaves, so they can both get to their jobs. When his door shuts behind her Emma comes to the strange realization that her and Killian had sex. Not only that the sex was tender and kind. Emma Swan is pretty sure that he made love to her last night, but she’s going ignore that fact for now. She knows one thing for sure Killian Jones has gotten underneath her skin.

#cs ff au #cs #cs au #CS modern AU #cs mc ff #CS fanfics #cs ff #captian swan #captain swan ff #emma swan #killian jones #cop!killian #bailbondsperson!emma

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kimwexlers-brownhair · 5 years

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I have a Rick and Morty crossover theory about the Joker’s past, because why wouldn’t I?

So what exactly WAS in the toxic chemicals that the man who became the Joker fell into? What, exactly, makes up the fluid in Rick Sanchez’s portal gun? What if somebody who worked at Axis Chemicals -- possibly a Rick? -- stumbled upon the recipe for interdimensional travel goo, and it somehow ended up in that vat?

What would it be like to fall into interdimensional chemicals? Absolutely submerged, like the Joker was?

Well, here’s my theory: all at once, you’d experience every timeline that led to your submersion into said chemicals. You’d remember everything about being a sadistic career criminal that leads the Red Hood gang. You’d remember everything about being a naive former engineer and failed comedian, manipulated into playing the fall guy during the heist, all while numb with grief from losing your pregnant wife. You’d live every single permutation of what brought you to Batman, to the chemicals.

Then you crawl out, disoriented and confused by every life you just lived, and look at your reflection in the water. You see this:

Kind of understandable that the mind would snap, you’d forget which timeline is yours, and you’d come up with an entirely different, maniacal identity. Bits and pieces make their way into every version of the Joker: the Joker from the sadistic gangster timeline (TAS,’89 Burton film) has the engineer’s lab knowledge to create Smilex and Laughing Gas; meanwhile, the engineer-comedian (Killing Joke/Hush series version, who I’ll refer to as “KJ Joker”) inherits the sadism and criminal connections from his gangster counterpart ( “TAS Joker”).

In fact, I’d argue the KJ Joker is ironically more disturbed and sadistic than TAS Joker, because he is in fact living in the Killing Joke universe where his wife’s death is so near to him. This raw grief combined with these new memories of being a powerful and violent criminal create something monstrous enough to do what he did to the Gordons.

It’s difficult to say what made TAS Joker evil from the beginning, and not KJ. I suppose you could say Nurture over Nature wins in this case: maybe TAS Joker’s father or mother suffered a head injury that made them violent and abusive, and maybe in the Killing Joke timeline there was never an injury and they treated little Jack just fine. Or maybe TAS Joker received the head injury as a child.

I mean, personally, I believe in both Nature and Nurture. I think someone with a naturally disturbed disposition can learn to control themselves if they have a healthy background and if they really want to be a better person -- but that means they have to have some goodness in them, because Dennis Rader had a healthy upbringing, and still was a demon from the start. Conversely, someone who is naturally level-headed and good can go through horrifying ordeals and emerge with their morality intact.

I remember watching a documentary about this researcher who discovered he was a distant descendant of Lizzie Borden’s family. He spoke to his family and co-workers, and was a bit nonplussed to find they...weren’t that surprised. “Oh, yeah. Well...you do seem a little emotionally detached at times. A little short on empathy.” Yet they still loved and respected him. Why? Well, he’d had a very happy, loving upbringing and was able to marry and have a happy family life grown up, as well.

He very freely admits he might have gone down a much darker path if he didn’t have that background growing up.

So that’s basically my conception of the KJ Joker. A maybe not totally good man who is able to function in society because he grew up in a normal family and met a wonderful woman who became his soulmate.

Yet when that’s taken away very violently and suddenly, and he suddenly sees all the darker versions of himself that led to his transformation into a demon clown? Well, we see what happens. It probably wouldn’t have happened to Bruce Wayne or Jim Gordon, because at their core, they’re better people than the Joker in any timeline.

Which brings me to the character of Jeannie, and the possibility for some great fanfic au’s I might write someday.

What if in the gangster timeline, she’s alive? She never met him before his transformation, because he was hard and evil from the start, and she was off doing her Jeannie thing elsewhere.

Yet just as KJ remembers all the life experiences of TAS Joker, so TAS Joker remembers the happy marriage that ended tragically for the engineer-comedian. TAS Joker isn’t as close to that past, but it’s definitely part of the rotation of Multiple Choice Pasts he remembers occasionally. He probably thinks he’s making her up: there are numerous references throughout TAS and Burton’s movie that he’s usually aware he has mob connections, and there was no way he had a wife stashed away somewhere or that he was doing standup comedy on the side.

So what happens if he runs into Jeannie in this timeline?

Maybe she gets a job as custodian at Arkham. Maybe he runs into her while escaping Batman down Gotham streets. Just as there are countless timelines that led him to the chemicals, there are countless timelines after.

What does seeing Jeannie alive do to him in these various timelines?

We know KJ Joker reveres her memory, as we see him reaching out for her solemnly in Killing Joke after his first flashback, and in the Hush series we see him mournfully looking at her pictures. But would TAS Joker be this sentimental about her? After all, if KJ Joker inherited the unrestrained sadism of TAS Joker, would it make sense that TAS Joker inherit some of the sincere sentiment from the grieving widower?

Or would this new entity, the Joker, simply not care? Would he find her just another cosmic punchline? Would he hurt her, lash out at her? Try to destroy this living embodiment of his dead humanity?

You see, Jeannie in this timeline would have no clue why Joker would recognize her. She was never dunked in interdimensional chemicals, so all she knows is the timeline she’s currently in. She never met Jack Napier or the Joker before. She’s just an average lady with a slightly sick sense of humor and a good heart. Once upon a different timeline, this person infatuated a more well-balanced Jack Napier, but what would the Joker make of her now?

Anyway, this is the weird stuff that keeps me up at night. I’d love any thoughts.

#joker #batman #dc #the killing joke #batman: the animated series #batman 1989 #jack napier #jeannie napier #jack x jeannie #joker x jeanne #rick and morty #aus #jeannie #my fan doodles #meta

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elizabeethan · 3 years

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Watch The Sunlight Fade: 3 / 18

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: You may have noticed a chapter count! It’s subject to change, but I’ve outlined the whole story and have written halfway through chapter 12, so we’re getting there, friends. Reminder to check warnings and tags and message me if you have questions. There will be depictions of violence, domestic violence, very very brief discussions of non-con (kind of) and psychological abuse throughout this story.

Rated M

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~~~~

The door to his apartment slams behind her as she stumbles in, the alcohol in her veins obviously taking over as he helps to steady her. “Easy,” he warns, hand on her waist as he guides her towards the guest room.

“You’re not gonna let me stay in bed with you, big guy?” she slurs, giving him a flirty smile.

“No, love,” he answers softly. “You need rest.”

With a giggle, she answers, “I get paid to have sex with people. Shouldn’t you be flattered that I’m soliciting you?”

“Tink,” he laughs, “I am very flattered. But you need to go to bed.”

“I can still give you a good time even though I’m drunk, you know,” she promises, letting her fingers dance along the lapels of his jacket.

“I know that, love. I just think… perhaps it’s time to… bring this arrangement to a close.”

She pouts, her bottom lip popping out and her brows furrowing. “Something I said?” she asks.

With a slight shake to his head, he smiles shyly down at her and brushes a wayward strand of her honey locks out of her eye. “No, but perhaps we can finish this tomorrow morning when you’re sober?”

Tink shrugs, letting her heavy kids fall closed and turning around to stumble down the hall. “It’s okay,” she says as she finds the doorknob. “I know it’s that blonde girl.”

“Liv…” he starts, although he isn’t sure where he’s going as he begins to speak. It’s not the blonde girl, not really. Although he felt a connection to her from the moment he saw her, he also knows that his and Tink’s fling is just that: a fling. It can’t last, and while he likes her well enough, he thinks it unfair to continue on with something to which he isn’t fully dedicated. “It’s not you.”

She snorts and nods her head lazily, letting it flop a bit too freely on her neck. “It’s not you, it’s me. I get it.”

“Hey,” he tries again, giving her a soft smile as he tucks away the same defiant strand of her hair. “I’ll always be here for you, you know that. I’ll always have love for you.”

“Yeah,” she smiles with a soft blush, her lids looking heavier and heavier with each passing moment. “I love you, too, bud. It was probably a bad idea to sleep with your best friend anyway.”

“I’m not sleeping with Robin,” he deadpans, knowing with certainty that it’ll draw a hearty laugh from her. She pushes against his shoulder with more force that she was likely expecting and turns around to open the door to his guest room.

“You dolt.” Once she’s in the room, just as she’s about to shut the door behind her, she spins quickly to face him once more. “By the way, you’re a total idiot if you go after her.”

“Bloody hell, not you too,” he complains as he scratches behind his ear.

“She belongs to Cassidy and you know it. You know what’ll happen if you pursue her.”

“Aye, that’s why I have no intention of doing so. Now, go to bed, Olivia.”

“Ooh,” she fakes a shudder, “full name; I must've been naughty.”

“Aye, you were. Goodnight, love.”

“Night, KJ.”

He listens to her giggle as she stumbles through the room, one she’s stayed in countless times before. She’s right; they probably never should’ve started their affair in the first place. Sleeping with your best friend is bound to end badly. But they understand each other, each of them here with hardly a choice on whether they stay or go. It isn’t as if they’re being held against their will, but the implication is that they’ll seriously regret it if they try to leave, one way or another. They simply both took comfort in knowing that someone else felt as they did.

He’s about to go to bed himself, ready to rid himself of the guilt that came along with the events of the day, but he pauses as he walks by his front door just in time to hear a resounding thud coming from across the hall. He panics and swings his own door open when he hears the terrified cry in response. He heard something earlier today that sounded exactly like that terrified cry.

Rushing over to Neal’s apartment, he places his hand on the knob and presses his ear to the door. He doesn’t want to burst in with haste since he has no idea what he actually heard, and the door must be locked anyway. But he can’t help but recall the image of her pressed to the door looking horrified, two knives on either side of her throat. He can’t get the look in her eyes out of his head.

There aren’t anymore sounds resonating from the apartment, silence falling over him as he attempts to listen out for signs of trouble. After a moment, all he hears are soft, painful sobs coming from the other side of the door.

~~~~

It’s surprisingly even more terrifying to be in the shop during the day than it was at night. At least when she was here last night, the shadows kept the frightening details of the space hidden, but now that the sun is up and streaming through the small basement windows, she’s able to see too much.

She can see the aged and worn paint on the walls, giving her an automatic and infallible feeling of unease. She can see the decorative weapons proudly displayed on every inch of every wall. She can see the rugged violence on each of the men’s faces so clearly in the sunlight. Being here terrifies her.

“Morning, Miss Swan,” Peter greets as Neal leads her into the large meeting room. He’s already sitting at the table waiting for them, Gold at his right and two empty seats to his left. There are several other members at the table as well, and she can’t help but notice how bright Killian’s eyes look in the sun streaming through the windows. “Welcome to your first real family meeting.”

The others around the table laugh, everyone but Jones seeming to find his joke about her near death experience to be funny. “Aren’t you going to say hello?” Neal asks in her ear, his voice low and his teeth clearly clenched.

She clears her throat and gives Peter the fakest smile she can muster. “Good morning.”

“That’s a good lass,” he praises, setting free a flock of anxious butterflies in her stomach. “Come sit. We saved you a seat by Neal.”

They sit side by side, and it’s becoming easier and easier to question his ranking within the group of men at the table. She finds it impossible to see him as a simple lackey when his name is carved into the table in intricate lettering in front of his chair, directly to the left of Peter's seat at the head.

There are talks of their plans, and she gathers some information easily while they seem to go to great lengths to keep other things hidden from her based on the threatening glances Peter doles out from time to time. There’s a trip coming up, and it’s automatically assumed that Neal will be going with Peter and Gold will be staying behind, as if this arrangement was made and agreed upon a lifetime ago. Once the other attendees are determined, Peter turns to face her and gives her a smile.

“Now, a job for you, my dear. Neal tells us you have a talent in finding people.”

“She can find anyone,” Neal says proudly, referring to her short stint as a bail bondsperson back when she lived in Boston. When she had met Neal after he witnessed her taking down a skip, he took her under his wing and told her she didn’t have to live such a dangerous lifestyle anymore. “Well, almost anyone.”

Her stomach flips at his hint; at his willingness to bring up one of the most painful memories she has. She’s great at finding people, but in 25 years, she still hasn’t been able to find her parents.

Pan hums. “We can look past a few failed attempts. What we need from you now, Emma, is your skillset to find a certain someone who deserted our cause.”

She gulps. “You want me to hunt down someone who doesn’t agree with you?”

“No love,” he laughs, and Neal’s grip on her hand tightens just a notch. “I want you to find someone who has valuable information and won’t hesitate to hand it over to a rival.” Emma bites her lip in thought, concern likely colored across her face. She hadn’t considered the existence of a rival gang before this moment, and she becomes frightened to think of there being more than one set of men like them. The thought that another gang is out there and considers themselves rivals to The Lost Boys means she’s potentially putting herself in even more danger by becoming associated with them. What will another gang do to the girlfriend of one of their rival’s members, especially a member whom she suspects is higher up in the rankings than he’s letting on?

“It’s not lost on me that you’re feeling uncomfortable here, Emma. The tension between you and Neal is perfectly palpable. But I’d implore you to let go of your fears; no one here will harm you. We’re here to protect you. By simply being associated with Neal, you have the protection of everyone in this club. And I’m sure it makes perfect sense that we would expect something of you in return for our unquestioning devotion to your safety.”

Although something about his words makes her suspicious, she suddenly feels a sense of strength at his claim that she’s a part of the group now. It’s as if he’s telling her that her thoughts and opinions matter, so she makes a bold choice and speaks up. “Can I clarify something?” she asks.

“Of course.”

“What are you protecting me from, exactly?”

Peter smirks and shakes his head, giving Neal a look that she can’t quite read. “I suppose Neal hasn’t informed you of how dangerous a place this world can be for a woman like you, Miss Swan. Your love for Neal makes you a target, as does Neal’s love for you. By falling for him, you’ve also fallen into our world. And because we’re so devoted to what you have to offer, we will protect you from everyone who may want to hurt Neal.”

“Just because I can find people pretty easily?” she asks doubtfully. His explanation isn’t making any sense to her. She can’t rectify in her head how loving Neal can equate to requiring constant protection, especially based on his claim that he’s going to be leaving soon.

“No, Emma,” he laughs condescendingly, as if he were talking to a child who couldn’t handle the truth. She wonders if he’s right. “Worry not; all will make sense to you as time goes by. For now, let's get started with your first assignment. Hook, show the lady to her office.”

~~~~

“Most sites are blocked here,” he explains as he powers up the old desktop, groaning softly as he stands again. “You’ll likely run into trouble if you try to find him on Facebook or anything.”

“Why?” she asks, and although she immediately regrets opening her mouth, the look he gives her feels more amused than anything.

“Why?”

“Um… why are they blocked?”

He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head and looking away from her once he notices that the computer has booted up. “To keep you out of trouble, I suppose.”

She bites her bottom lip, squeezing her fists until she feels the sting of her nails digging into her palm. She isn’t sure that, in the last day since she’s come here, she’s been kept out of trouble at all. She’s been in trouble-- in danger-- since she heard those bikes pulling up behind her and Neal.

“Right,” she says softly, sarcastically, and again, she kicks herself for opening her mouth. She wonders what would have happened to her by now if she was with anyone but Jones in this moment.

“Love,” he starts, his voice soft and tender, and she almost wonders if he intends to step close to her. Perhaps he means to comfort her. “I’m--” he clears his throat, “If you need anything…”

Their eyes meet, and it’s like the first time again. His azure stare bores into her in a way that makes her shudder, but not out of fear this time. She feels seen, understood, and while it’s only been a day since her traumatic greeting from the club, it feels like a lifetime since she’s felt a sense of safety. It feels comforting to meet his gaze, and she suddenly lets her breathing steady and her heart rate settle. “Thank you,” she whispers genuinely. She isn’t sure how she could relay it to him if she does need something, but the way he looks at her tells her that he’ll know.

For the first time since she’s been here, her safety appears to be a priority to someone. Relief washes over her and she lets it, despite knowing that it will dissipate the moment he walks out the door.

~~~~

“How’s it goin’ in here, my little worker bee?”

She looks up from the computer she’s been staring at, met by Neal leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed. The dinosaur she’s working on is hardly functioning, most sites she’s tried blocked and inaccessible and the speed at which it loads each page almost painful. After almost a week of working on the assignment they’ve given her, she’s found almost nothing.

“Hi,” she mumbles, turning back to the screen. All they had given her was a name and a last known location, and she’s struggling to find more.

“Doing alright?”

“I can’t find much,” she says.

“You’ll find him; you’re smart. I wonder if that’s genetic,” he says with a laugh and a smirk in her direction. She isn’t sure what he means or how to respond, so she simply smiles somewhat awkwardly and moves on. She refuses to let herself wonder if this is another dig at her for being parentless.

“It just feels impossible. This guy, Graham… are you sure he even exists?” she jokes.

He laughs, but it’s forced and she doesn't detect a genuine smile. “Are you doubting Peter?”

Emma looks up at him, meeting his eyes with confusion colored in her own. “No,” she starts, although she isn’t sure if she’s being truthful in her answer. “It’s just…”

Neal shoves away from the door and slinks closer to her, bending at his knees and squatting until his eyes meet her level. “Ems,” he starts, his hand landing on hers and applying what she thinks is meant to be a comforting amount of pressure. “Don’t start.”

“What…?”

He groans and leans away from her. “It's not a damn secret that you aren’t happy to be here. I need you to be better about that.”

She lets her jaw hang open for a bit longer than she means to, shock taking over her as he confirms what she’s been suspecting since the meeting she attended. “Neal,” she starts, “you’re the one who said you want to get out. You said we could leave after a few weeks.”

“And?”

“Uh… and… it’s been a week and you don’t seem like you’re… I mean… it seems like you're happy here.”

“So what?”

“What do you-- so what? You said we were leaving and now it’s like they're your family!”

Neal stands quickly, spinning from her in exasperation as he thrusts his hands into his hair. “You’re being so-- stop judging me! What do you even have to complain about?! They’re being nothing but nice to you. You have a home now, I feed you, I love you, we protect you… I don’t get what your damn problem is!”

“The knives, Neal!” she shouts, unable to hold back the emotional response to his nonsensical claims. “You threw knives at my head!”

There's a loud smack against the desk she sits at, and she’s brought back to the reality of her experience and out of the false sense of control that she let herself believe she had. She has to force herself to move on from the thought that she and Neal are able to have a conversation. When she looks down to where his hand met the surface, she sees his gun held beneath his palm. She pales.

“It’s time to move on,” he hisses quietly, his voice taking over the silence of the room. It’s another threat. Another convenient way to show her that he has power over her. That he can take everything away from her, even her life, in a second if she gives him a reason to. “You weren’t in danger, baby,” he says, his voice more soothing this time, drawing from her that feeling again. The feeling that she’s overreacting. “I had it under control, remember?” he asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She sighs heavily at the feeling of his lips tracing along her jaw until he reaches her neck. “You did?” she asks weakly. With his sudden change in demeanor, his obvious desire not to make her feel unsafe anymore, she feels something shift between them.

“Of course I did; don’t be stupid. You know I did.”

It feels good, she lets herself realize. As her eyes slip closed and a soft breath escapes her lips, she makes herself relax into his touch. With her sense of sight cut off, she feels herself giving in to his touch in favor of feeling some sense of relaxation after a week of hypervigilance. His rough stubble scratches at her skin, something she normally doesn’t like, but right now, she doesn’t think she minds too much. With her eyes shut, the rest of the world closed off from her mind, she thinks she could appreciate some stubble.

She feels the smooth leather of his sleeve under her fingertips and she likes it. Sure, she’s always thought the leather jackets were sexy, but here and now, something about him in it becomes more appealing. But when his hand creeps up her waist, his touch a bit too rough, too domineering, she flinches.

“Shh,” he hisses softly, attempting to soothe her. “It’s alright.”

At the sound of his voice, something snaps within her and she stiffens. It sounds wrong, she realizes. “Wait,” she murmurs as his hand creeps under her shirt.

He breathes out a disbelieving laugh. “Seriously?”

“I just,” she starts, nervous as he pushes away. “We’re… I mean, we’re here.” She gestures around the room, hopeful that her discomfort at the thought of sleeping with him in this office where anyone could walk in is clear.

“Right. So when we get home, you’ll be more than willing?” he asks doubtfully, rolling his eyes.

“Neal,” she begs softly, unsure of where she went wrong. She’s unsure of how she could have messed this up when she was the one to express her own discomfort. “Please.”

“Please,” he mimics, his voice rising in pitch. “I’ll see you in a week.”

With that, confusing words exchanged between them, he’s out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

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

#Watch the Sunlight fade #Sunlight ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan angst #cs ff #gang au #captain swan au #modern au #angst with a happy ending #tw: domestic violence

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