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scenetocause · 1 month

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no one asked for this but i was in the kitchen makin instant ramen and poleaxed by the thought of landoscar puppy play post-melbourne in the style of a fic i thought was gemjam's but now can't find where mark webber gave his then-protegee mitch evans a collar to help with homesickness anyway whatever have some fuckin words

edit: fuck's sake cassian obviously it was a collar and a kiss by zeraparker

mild warning for hopelessly undernegotiated kink

"Don't you ever get homesick?" Oscar could count the number of people he'd less like to be having this conversation with than Lando Norris on one hand and one of them's the bored immigration officer who had to tell him he'd not got his passport stamped right in Doha.

Lando snaps his gum, looking up to the ceiling like he's actually thinking about it. "No? Not really. I was sick of fucking Bali over Christmas, jesus and I don't want to go back to Dubai but like, home is everywhere innit?"

"No." Oscar closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose. Obviously Lando doesn't experience this, he could literally drive to his parents' house on half a tank of fuel, straight out of the MTC car park. Straight from Oscar's flat, where for some reason he's letting Lando crash as though him seeing the post-Australia comedown is a good idea.

"Hmm." Hearing Lando think is always disturbing. "Well, what can I do about it?"

Oscar has to open his eyes again in disbelief. 'What do you mean do about it?"

Seeing Lando cocking his head on one side, like a dog, makes something painful sear across Oscar's temples. "You're sad, I want to fix it. Max always-"

"Don't tell me about that." He can't hear about Max Fewtrell right now. The guy haunting the garage all weekend was enough. Oscar doesn't need a reminder he's not Lando's first anything, needs to keep the thoughts about breaking up with his girlfriend so they can properly be a thing to himself.

"Well." Lando is literally sitting on his hands. "Then you have to tell me about it yourself."

Thing is, this is too much. It's not the kind of thing he should share with Lando. Lando who he just got team-ordered for, Lando who he needs to match the tyre management of, Lando who will sit there and smile angelically and get his fucking way on anything they ever diverge on about feedback.

Oscar's clenching his jaw so hard he can almost feel the ache where they took his wisdom teeth, though. Another thing he didn't know he'd really miss this much.

"You can't fucking laugh at me." Why's he said that, for fuck's sake? Lando laughs at everything, would probably do it at a funeral in his weird, stressed-out way when he doesn't know how to socially behave.

"Ok." Lando's eyes are very big and he's looked up from his phone. "I can order TimTams on Uber Eats?"

That's actually quite sweet. But not what Oscar needs right now.

"Just - stay here." Lando's fucking weird, he's probably into some of this shit himself. If not something freakier, lying around his Monaco flat in a gimp mask, suffocating himself or god-knows-what shit.

It doesn't take long to find the box. Oscar's consciously never accumulated too much stuff in this flat, like he might have to move out of it any time. Like everything might have to go in a suitcase because the contract review board said it's over, kiddo, go back down under and pretend you understand your dad's business enough to pay him back.

It's not got very much in. Oscar doesn't like to wear too much, when he's like this. Just a t-shirt and shorts or his boxers. He doesn't think he's ready for Lando to see him shirtless, like this, make his eyes crinkle up in glee at how much of Oscar he can touch.

It'd be better if Lando did it, if someone put it on for him but that's too complicated to ask for, so Oscar does it himself, mostly. Puts the soft shorts on, an old Prema shirt that's a little too tight to wear outdoors but feels comfy, soft, reassuring on his skin.

The ears are easy but the collar. He can't do that, himself. Can't give himself the ball, the well-chewed, if pristinely laundered, beanie toy. Whines, unhappily, about it.

"Osc-" obviously, Lando heard him. The sounds of him chaotically standing up, nearly falling over Oscar's rug and stumbling towards his bedroom door, are already clattering through the flat. "Can I come in?"

He just whines again, an animal thing. Oscar needs permission, like this, doesn't give it.

"Ok you better not be dying because I never finished the first aid-" Lando stops in the doorway. "Oh."

Oscar sinks to the floor, his knees bending beneath him, shoving the box at Lando before he folds down on his knees and elbows, looking up at the guy he's supposed to do anything to beat.

"Good..." Lando moves his mouth around for a moment, licks his lips. "Puppy?"

He doesn't have a tail to wag, although he has thought about one of the plugs, sometimes. Objectively, the bit of Oscar's brain that's still somewhat functioning says wiggling his arse must make him look ridiculous, especially when he paws at the box and whines again.

Lando crouches down, touches the ears. "Do you want to go out?"

Oscar cringes back, shaking his head violently. God, imagine the headlines.

"Ok." Lando does his head-cock thing again, then sticks his hands into the box. "Do you want your collar?"

It's pretty shameful, the way Oscar crawls forward so easily, smushes his face against Lando's knee and maybe he should have asked about this properly but Lando goes easily, scritching behind Oscar's ear. "Oh you're such a good boy, look at you."

Lando fumbles the collar for a second, not getting the buckle right the first time and it's nearly uncomfortable enough Oscar stands up, right back out of it but then it goes and it's snug and tight and good, Lando's hand in his hair.

"Are these your toys?" Lando shifts to kneeling, lets Oscar get his head right in his lap, nuzzling against Lando's stomach through the pouch of his hoodie. He doesn't need to answer that one, it's pretty obvious.

"Well, I don't think Oscar would want you breaking his stuff, so I'm going to leave the ball here." The third person is a jolt, like a nod to camera but it feels right. Oscar is elsewhere, can worry about that later.

"Come on then, good dog." Lando stands up, with the beanie toy in hand. It's a koala, a stupid joke. "Come and play, then."

It's not a comfortable flat to get through on your hands and knees, hard wooden floor jarring him in a way that'll probably bruise a bit, tomorrow. Lando's walking easily, waggling the beanie like he thinks he needs to keep Oscar interested.

Not Oscar. Puppy. It feels good.

Lando pushes the coffee table away, scraping on the floor in a way Oscar's landlord will probably have an opinion about when he comes to pay the deposit back. But puppies don't worry about that kind of thing, so Oscar just crawls over to where Lando's sitting, legs spread and outstretched, on the rug.

"Come on," Lando holds out the beanie, waving it by Oscar's mouth. "You want this, yeah?"

Oscar growls, nips at it. It's not the toy he wants, really, just the -

Ah, perfect. Lando pulls Oscar forward by the toy, right on top of him as he leans back. Oscar can paw him like his, Lando laughing delightedly and twisting away.

It's - he's seen the video, McLaren posted it for some national day or something last year - the same way Lando plays with his family's dog. Silly, rolling around the floor, letting Oscar half-hump him while Lando's shrieking and trying to get out of his grip, only to dive back in, wrestling with Oscar.

The rug scoots across the floor under them and they nearly crash into the telly, Oscar ending up on his back, against the sofa, Lando tickling his tummy but the toy in Oscar's mouth, triumphant.

"Are you submitting? Are you letting me lead the pack?" It's a bit on the nose but yeah, maybe. Oscar kicks out a leg, half-heartedly, to show he isn't always going to be ok with that.

"What a good boy." That, he is always ok with. More than human-Oscar would like to admit.

Lando lies down next to him, face a bit flushed and eyes bright from playing. "Always wanted a dog. You can even come to all the races."

#emptyhalf fic #ramen is cold now bad vibes #but then again it was the indomie chicken flavour so not exactly storming anyway #why does NOWHERE ever have the hot pepper one ffs #clearly the best one #though i do respect that og chicken comes in a giant pack called a hungriman and an even bigger one called beliful

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meshkol · 5 years

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Twitter Threads (or That One Time Tony Dialled It Up to Eleven)

Summary: Social media is hard and full of trolls, and Tony has poor impulse control.

Notes: I hate this so much. Less cracky than I wanted it, because I suck at writing humour. Fill K-3 for the Tony Stark Bingo 2019: Gossip Press. Unbeta'd as per usual. Any relation to existing twitter handles is entirely coincidental.

Warnings: Social Media, Twitter, Homophobic Language, Sexist Language, Ableist Language, Internet, Trolls, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Goes On A Rampage

No one can say that Tony’s ever had good impulse control, especially about people he loves.

@1234ideclareathumbwar posted: I donno what it is about dr strange but he must suck dick like a pro if hes got iron man whipped god knows theres nothing attractive about him except those dick suckin lips #drstrange #ironman #wtfisstarkthinking

@100percentDONE-xxx replied: yeah its not like he can give a decent handjob ffs must me the lips or maybe hes just tight every1 knows stark loves a tight whole hes prolly cheating neway poor cripple

@itsawrapandimreadytoparty replied: Probably just lays there and thinks about the wizard gods just to get that $$$...I’d think of England even for a nymphomaniac drug-addicted sugar daddy too, tbh.

@BlessYouThor-ness replied: still can’t believe he chose strange over THOR like everyone can see the chemistry between them and tony is such a bottom he’d take thor’s cock so well fuck yes

@they-did-the-thing777 replied: is it just me or does strange look like an alien maybe there’s no magic at all just aliens and he’s got a tentacle dick and stark just wants to mark off another box on his worlds-biggest-slut checklist #tonystarkispathetic

@snowflakes_makeme_lol replied: hes just fkn ugly i s2g stark id spread 4 but strange??? that bitch be ugly asf n not worth gettin my dk wet prolly get aids

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: You guys are the pinnacle of our evolution and I am in awe of your genuine kindness and polite generosity (and grammar). Wow, I can’t believe Stephen Strange saved all of your jerkass lives TWICE for this shit and you know what? Everyone knows I’M the cocksucker in this relationship, dumbfucks.

@kiki_blow_this_popsicle_stand replied: HOLY SHIT LMAO

“What are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother looking up from his tablet, backing away from that thread because he has no interest in seeing the replies, and hunting for the next war he can wage. “Destressing,” he replies gleefully, clicking on a thread that mentions Pepper. He can feel Rhodey behind him – and, what’s more, he can feel the disapproval seeping out of his pores too now that he’s peeking over Tony’s shoulder – but he’s on a roll, and fuck impulse control when he can sass and bitch on twitter. Some people just need to be removed from the genetic pool of the human race and not be allowed to procreate, honestly.

Somewhere in bumbfuck-nowhere, Fury is having a coronary and Stephen is rolling his eyes so hard they’re permanently lodged in his cranium.

@rudethatyoureallamatwink posted: Does anyone else think that Pepper Potts only got the job at Stark because she’s got awesome legs and a great twat and Tony Stark wanted to stick his dick in? #idfuckher #pepperpotts #starkindustries #idfuckhimtootbh #tonystark

@MyNameIsGoFuckYourself replied: lol ur gross shes like 35 or smth but wvr u want crusty ol lose pussy u do u bro #oldchickgross #getbotox

@shredderinmymetal3-14 replied: @MyNameIsGoFuckYourself lmao wtf?? He started fucking her when she was like twenty or something so she was still nice and tight back then. I mean I’d still fuck her right now cause she’s one hot cougar and I bet she’s learned a thing or two from the Slut Extraordinaire. And anyway, how tf do you know what her cunt’s like?? The only hole you’ve fucked is your mom.

@queeen-bee-says-hi replied: Wow, you guys are pigs. Pepper Potts is a strong, independent, beautiful woman who is worth a thousand of all you, and your mothers would be ashamed of you all.

@gags_are_the_best_fight_me_bitch replied: @queeen-bee-says-hi hey look theres the feminazi if you want i can replace that stick up your pussy with my dick you know you need it ill fuck you real good show you what a real mans like

@truthisanillusion replied: I’ll fuck @queeen-bee-says-hi AND @OfficialPotts_CEO at the same time fucking feminazi cunts, god knows you bitches would be grateful for my prick in your gaping lesbian pussies

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: Wow. So. Uh.

1. That’s revolting and my AI just delivered the IPs of @gags_are_the_best_fight_me and @truthisanillusion to the authorities for premeditated violence, rape, and hate crimes. You’re welcome, and feel free to send a cash donation to the charity of your choice for my thoughtfulness. I’d recommend something for women’s or LGBTQ+ rights, and I’ll match it with a multiplier of 1000x.

2. @queeen-bee-says-hi, good for you, and I can see from your profile that you’re a student. Consider your crops watered and your schooling paid for, all the way to your twelfth PhD if you want it.

3. @OfficialPotts_CEO can and will murder you with her pinky nail. I’ve taken on Thanos and I’d rather go ten rounds with him than piss her off. THAT’S why she’s CEO, not because of her admittedly awesome legs.

4. I hate this hellsite. If I buy it, can I kill it?? Rhodey says “technically” so I’m gonna look into that now.

@i_stan_one_legend_named_virginia_p_potts replied: IRON MANNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!! DEFEND THE QUEEN!!!!!!!!!!! #PEPPERPOTTS4PRESIDENT

@iaminlovewithcapandimunashamed replied: lmfao incels be fkd when #ironman comes to town

@truthisanillusion replied: Hey @YouKnowWhoIAm No one trusts you or likes you, you fake ass super “hero” taking it up the ass like a faggot stfu and die already, kthxbye

@queeen-bee-says-hi replied: whAT OH MY GOD THAT IS NOT NECESSARY

@OfficialPotts_CEO replied: Tony, stop picking fights and threatening to buy twitter or I’ll ground you. And just accept the gift, @queeen-bee-says-hi - after all, he’s already done it.

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: Shut up Pepper, you aren’t the boss of me.

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: And jokes on you @truthisanillusion because I’m already dead inside come at me bitch I’ll be the one in the multi-billion-dollar suit of armor surrounded by Avengers

@OfficialPotts_CEO replied: Actually, I am. Don’t make me take away your toys. Or call @Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel. He’s on speed-dial, sweetheart, and he likes me better than you.

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: Rude.

@Sorcerer_Surpreme_With_A_Scalpel replied: The last time you threatened someone, your house got blown up. Please refrain from egging on internet trolls or I’ll dump you for Rhodes for my own sanity.

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: ALSO RUDE.

“You know, I’m not even remotely bi-curious and I would totally tap that,” Rhodey says absently, though his lips are quirking into a smirk.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Hands off, you little shit, or I’ll tweet about that one time in MIT when you ate that—”

“Fuck you.”

“Been there, done that,” Tony quips cheerfully. “Not remotely bi-curious my ass—”

“You know what’s better than picking fights with twelve-year-olds on twitter? Kicking your ass right here. You come at me, Stank.”

Tony opens his mouth to reply but then gasps, already losing himself in another thread after sending a middle finger emoji into the last one.

@mwahahaha-666 posted: You guys can wax poetry about Tony Stark all you want, but screw that basic-ass rich boy - everyone knows Doctor Strange is the smokin’ hot one. #takemenow #mybodyisready #drstrange

@ukulele_jedi_master replied: PREACH!!! stark may be loaded but stephen is the one that looks like a prada model giMME THAT MAGICAL DICK

@xxx-foreverfit-xxx replied: Fuck both of you. I just wanna be a fly on the wall when they’re fucking each other...or better yet, DIRECT them on how to ruin each other #ironstrange #otp

@highpercentageofuselessnessachieved replied: i wonder if he can clone himself like can u imagine?? being fucked from all ends by #drstrange cock?? what i wouldn’t give to be tony stark omfg i don’t even want the money just the hard dickin from that fine piece of ass

@its_a_fact_that_captain_america_has_a_big_dick replied: He’s got Iron Man wrapped around his little finger so he must have the biggest dick and the know-how to use it properly. Yes pls and thank you very much, I’ll take that monster dick pronto.

@TGBYHN_4_LYFE replied: dude i tell u what i would do what @xxx-foreverfit-xxx said: sit in the corner w a ridign crop in 9’’ stilettos rubbin myself while directing them 2 do what i want...make em touch n stroke n suck n bite n fuck each other til they cant walk anymore n then cuddle w them n stroke their hair

@catcatcatcat-cat replied: I would give my college education, my life, my cow, and my internet access away for the rest of my life for a sex tape

@xxx-foreverfit-xxx replied: @TGBYHN_4_LYFE omfg fuCK YES CAN YOU IMAGINE listening to them moan as they lost themselves in each oter, so fucking desperate to get off that they’re begging you to let them cum even as they try their hardest to obey, covered in precum and sweat and hot as fuck

@bigfoot_is_nessie1987 replied: I s2g the amount of fanfiction I write about those two alone should have me committed but I literally can’t stop the two of them are so fucking hot together that it should be illegal god bless Iron Man and Dr Strange and their sexy, sexy chemistry and sexy, sexy bodies #killme

@one-upon-a-time-in-asgard2 replied: They are the hottest couple in the history of the universe and so fucking pure I love them both so much also @bigfoot_is_nessie1987 I demand a link to your fics cuz I’m always looking for more ironstrange porn #otp #ironstrange

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: @Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel Hey, they think you have a big dick. Little do they know that they’re totally right and that you also have the added bonus of actually BEING a big dick too! #dontthreatentoleavemeforplatypus #orilltagyouinthirstposts #awesomethirstposts #stephenhasabigdick #andiloveit #goodshit

@mwahahaha-666 replied: OH MY DUCKING GOD

@its_a_fact_that_captain_america_has_a_big_dick replied: Well, I’d be mortified that Tony Stark is replying to this except Tony Stark is acTUALLY REPLYING TO THIS BLESS YOU IRON MAN

@Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel replied: One of these days I’m going to murder you with your own bravado and not lose a night’s sleep over it. And fine, I won’t touch Rhodes...I’m sure Rogers is free anyway, and he’s always so polite when I visit.

@bigfoot_is_nessie1987 replied: Please don’t read my fanfiction I will literally combust in embarrassment also I am dying over here in Copenhagen omfg

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: BRO CODE, DUDE. YOU’RE VIOLATING THE BRO CODE. I HATE YOU SO MUCH AND I WANT A DIVORCE.

@catcatcatcat-cat replied: ...oh my god what does that mean you guys are MARRIED??!?! BLESS THE WIZARD GODS!!!!

@Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel replied: Rhodes, I know you’re reading over his shoulder, so if you could please take away his phone now before he ends up on the cover of the Times...or breaks the internet. Again. Thank you in advance.

Tony reacts immediately, trying to make a break for it, but Rhodey’s already tackling him into the couch, a hundred and ninety pounds of lean muscle and pretty Class As. Tony hisses breathlessly, the wind knocked out of him, and he struggles valiantly to keep his hands on his tablet while Rhodey does his best to rip it away. He doesn’t have a very good position so he makes a hair-brained, split-second decision to throw his body weight to the side, making them both roll off the couch. Rhodey’s a jerk though, and manages to react fast enough so that Tony takes the brunt of the impact, and he can’t even help but groan in a mixture of mild pain and disappointment as he feels the tablet being removed from his lax fingers.

“Sucks to be you, Stank,” he says breathlessly, fingers flying over the keyboard, and Tony cranes his neck until he can read Rhodey’s reply (and on Tony’s fucking account what in the hell!):

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: I think I broke your hot mess of a husband, Stephen. Come collect him before he murders me with his eyes or gets his hands on another electronic device. We’re in the lab.

Three seconds later, Stephen walks through a portal, looking oh-so-fucking-gorgeous in his battle robes, and wearing a scowl of irritation that bodes well for rough, mock-angry sex in the near future.

Tony grins unapologetically, and abandons the lure of social media in exchange for his pseudo husband.

It’s an easy choice.

Also read on ao3.

Feel free to prompt me things on my Bingo Card!

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noahreids · 5 years

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Beauty in the Aftermath (CS FF) | 14/14

Summary: Confronted with the sudden appearance of her birth parents, Emma, in a moment of panic, runs. She flees the diner, Storybrooke, the country. She finds herself a day later in the Dublin, Ireland Airport terminal wondering what the hell she has gotten herself into. With some fear, a little determination and a considerable amount of faking it along the way, she sets off on a trip she never planned on taking but needed more than she ever knew. She finds herself, she finds a Brit adrift on his own journey and finds out what home really means.

Rated: M (Sexual content & some Irish whiskey along the way).

Also on: AO3 | FFN Tumblr: [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 ] Art!: Cover | Ch.1 | Ch.3 | Ch.5 | Ch.7 | Ch.9 | Ch.14

A/N: I can’t believe we're here, the final chapter. This has been an absolutely amazing experience, beyond anything I could have ever imagined. And it’s honestly because of everyone that’s read, liked, reblogged, left comments, tweeted and just really simply being awesome amazing people. I know I’ve said it before but I appreciate the heck out of each and every one of you. You have no idea. So thank you, thank you, thank you. I wish I could take each of you out for a Guinness or hot chocolate, your choice ;) xoxo

So much love to everyone at @captainswanbigbang your encouragement, patience and work to put this event on is out of this world. Thank you. Thanks to @shippingtheswann, @imagnifika for amazing collaboration and to @halobxist & @meanderingcaptainswanmusings for everything xo.

And last but not least, please keep supporting all the other CSBB authors and artists. We are one lucky fandom!

And now will Killian find Emma?

Chapter 14

Emma tightly grasps the arms of her chair, whitening her knuckles and holds on until the tips of her fingers begin to hurt. Her heart pounds wildly in her chest as she turns her head, eyes wide. And there, just across the room stands Anna in all her spirited grandeur, hair damp and frizzing from the rain, cheeks pink and eyes bright with elation, like she’s just come in from a race.

Emma isn’t sure if she wants to throw herself into Anna’s arms or collapse into her chair and cry in relief. She’s momentarily frozen, simply trying to find her voice that is currently nowhere to be found. The how and the why and the do you know where he is are all clamoring hard to come out first that they get stuck in her throat, forcing Emma to remain silent instead, blinking at her friend, a new tear escaping.

“Oh, Emma. It’s okay!”

Anna rushes to her side and grabs hold of her hands.

“Yeah?” she squeaks out her question.

Anna squeezes her fingers and her expression gentles from excitement to understanding.

“So, okay. I promise. Let’s call Killian right now, he’s sporting the same expression you are, although with a little more self-loathing.”

Emma’s face scrunches in confusion.

“But he doesn’t --”

“Have a phone? I know, what a dummy! But listen to this, Kristoff and I were on our way to grab a bite to eat at the Brazen Head, and there was Killian, pacing outside a coffee shop. He was trying to figure out how to connect to the Wi-Fi on the phone he’d just bought, muttering over and over that he must have missed a hostel as he looked for you. So anyway, I run over to him and--”

“Anna,” Emma interrupts, eyes pleading. “Why didn’t you just call me?”

“Uh, we only called you about a thousand times,” she says, shaking her phone in front of Emma’s face.

“What are you talking about? My phone never rang.”

Emma fishes her phone out of her pocket, only to find the screen dark. Her stomach drops. She presses the home button and the dreaded dead battery image flashes across the screen.

“Oh look, here’s Kristoff.”

Kristoff’s grinning face fills Anna’s screen and all Emma wants to do is steal the phone away, she wants to ask more questions, she wants Killian to suddenly appear directly in front of her.

“Kris, are you with Killian? I found her. At Abrahams on Lower Gardiner. You’re where? Oh!”

Emma tries to follow the conversation, she really does, but when she hears that Kristoff is with Killian, all she wants to do is be where he is, now. She frantically stuffs everything back in her pack, unaware Anna has stopped talking or that the front door has opened once again.

She just needs to get to him and everything will be alright. She’s sure of it.

“Anna, you need to tell me where he is.”

She is met with silence.

She looks up to find Anna watching her with that same soft smile. One she doesn’t have time for.

“Swan.”

She drops everything. Her bag lands with a loud thump, falling precariously close to the end table, rattling the tea cup and saucer but she pays no mind because he’s there. Killian is in the lobby, eyes a little wild and hair even wilder. His chest heaves with quick breaths as they stare at each other.

“Killian,” she says with relief, with a small gasp before her feet are moving her across the room. He keeps them both upright when she reaches him, wrapping her arms around his neck, lips meeting in a hard desperate kiss.

His arms come around her, and hold her tightly, as she changes the angle of the kiss, wanting more, breathing him in. She only pulls a breath length away, hands gripping the collar of his jacket, eyes closed, words rushing out.

“How, how did you find me?”

“I’ve been to every hostel in the city, some twice and when I found Anna and K--” his explanation breaks off on a laugh as she peppers his face with kisses.

“You really found me,” her voice comes softer, surprise tinting her words and she watches as he turns pensive, eyes searching hers for the words she isn’t using.

He cups her face, thumb catching fresh tears on her cheeks, gently wiping them away.

“Of course. I will always find you. Did you doubt I would?”

She doesn’t want to say yes, or to admit to all the fears and worries that had threatened to overwhelm her, not when he had been looking for her as frantically as she, but he must have read it as clear as day on her face. He has always teased her about being an open book.

“Emma, where did you think I went?”

She opens her mouth but how does she explain such a thing? Her grip on his jacket tightens and she tries again to explain that there is a little voice that whispers to her when she is at her most vulnerable. One that tells her she isn’t good enough to keep anyone around for very long, one that tells her she doesn’t deserve him, but the words don’t come. She also wants to tell him how badly she wants to fight that little voice, how she didn’t want it to be true with him.

The front door opens and a group of young women tumble in, carrying with them their giggles and a current of cold air.

Emma shivers, tucking herself against Killian. His hand drops to her back, running up and down.

“Emma, you soaked through, sweetheart. Let’s get you dry.”

She buries her nose into his shirt, breathing in the warm, familiar scent of him.

“I’m fine.”

Another shiver and he tuts in disapproval, and she is grateful for the distraction from his question, for him not pushing it further, for now.

“We have to find a place to stay. They might have rooms here, we can ask,” she whispers as the girls pass and disappear up a staircase, dropping them into silence once again.

“I’ve booked us a hotel, with an ostentatiously large comfortable bed, eternal hot water, and room service. Come on,” he explains, finding her hand against his chest and giving it a squeeze.

“But? Why?”

He shakes his head and leans down to capture her lips in a slow, sure kiss. She chases after his lips when he finally pulls away, and looks up at him with heavy lidded eyes.

“I never want you to wonder where we’ll be sleeping again. We’ll keep it for as long as you want.”

“Killian,” she whispers, a touch of awe.

His lips brush her forehead before dropping her hand and walking over to wear she left her bag. He hikes it onto his back and comes back to join her, lending his hand out to her.

“Let’s set sail, love.”

She grabs on tightly but takes a last glance around.

“Wait, where’s Anna?”

“She slipped out with Kris. We’ll meet up with them tomorrow.”

Emma nods to herself but glances quickly towards the front desk. She finds the clerk, watching her over his book.

“Thank you, so much. Especially for the tea.”

He smiles and nods.

“Any time, the door is always opened.”

She leaves him with a last smile and lets Killian guide them to their hotel, never once letting go of her hand.

The room is only dimly lit by the small bedside lamp, casting a golden glow across the white duvet. The curtains are drawn tight, blocking the outside world from intruding in and muting the late night sounds. The quiet calm, only disrupted by the central air kicking on in a cyclical fashion. Emma takes it all in with long, slow looks and deep even breaths.

She sits crossed-legged in the middle of the king-sized bed, comfortably sinking into plush blankets. Her skin is pink from the hot water, fingers a little wrinkled from the generous amount of time she took in the shower and her hair sits in a messy bun a top her head. She is wrapped in a thick terry cloth robe, practically disappearing into the soft cotton and in no hurry to get dressed.

She spots her bag across the room, slumped on a chair and knows she could find something dry to sleep in but she doesn’t want to. All she wants to do is to crawl under the covers, feel the warmth of Killian’s skin against hers and sleep for days, but that would require Killian being back by her side.

She listens and hears the water still running in the bathroom, he too choosing to luxuriate in the first real shower they’ve had in a long time.

She’d tried to convince him to join her, but for once he stood his ground.

“If you’re in there with me, my mind will only be focused on one thing.”

She’d pouted but followed him into the large bathroom.

“But,” she’d tried but he simply silenced her with kiss.

“Most importantly, we need to warm you up and then we can have a nice chat.”

He turned the water on and the bathroom slowly filled with steam. Satisfied he’d turned and helped rid her of her wet clothes. Each layer he’d peeled away, he’d kissed a new spot. Her shirt came off, a kiss to her shoulder. He knelt while pulling her leggings down, he’d pressed his lips to the jut of her hip, warm breath lingering as he looked up. He’d given her a little amused head shake as she whispered please.

“Come here, just for a second,” she’d tried a new tactic and pulled him up. Her naked self, deliciously pressed to his clothed front.

She’d kissed him hard, feeling him hard. She’d sighed and it had been his turn to shiver.

“Emma,” he’d warned. “This is why,” he’d added, closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath before pulling away and pulling back the shower curtain.

“In you go. I’ll call for room service so it’s here when you get out.”

She’d finally reluctantly agreed and here she is now, waiting for him.

She spies the plate of goodies besides her and while she really isn’t that hungry, she can’t resist the hot chocolate, a sprinkle of cinnamon still decorating the top of the whipped cream.

And that’s how he finds her, in the middle of the bed, hands wrapped tightly around a mug, mid-sip.

When he hesitates at the edge of the room, clad only in boxer briefs, she finishes her sip and drops the mug on the end table, licking her lips and encouraging him to join her.

It doesn’t take much convincing before he’s pulling the covers back, settling against the headboard and before he can protest or explain why it’s not a good idea, she’s straddling his lap, her shy smile quieting any words of concern.

Her fingers trace his features, tucking a damp lock of hair behind his ear.

“You’re sure you won’t eat anything?” he asks, eyeing the barely touched plate.

She shakes her head slowly, finger tips running along the shell of his ear, down his neck and resting over his heart.

She likes that it beats just as wildly as hers.

“And you’re warm enough now?” he asks, hand running up under her robe to rest on her thigh.

A nod.

He gives her a wry smile.

“So am I going to have to guess why you were so surprised I found you? Or was it that I was looking for you at all? Or are you going to tell me?”

Her eyes leave his lips and look up, worried she is going to find a trace of anger or disappointment but what she finds is a smile and patience and something that might be love. She thinks of the words on her postcard.

And thinks it might be time to be a little brave.

“I -- for a moment I thought maybe you left. That you realized what a mess I was. That you’d had enough and it was the perfect out.”

“Emma, I’m not going anywhere.”

She looks for the lie and doesn’t see any.

“We could teach surfing in Doolin and eat fish and chips at that little diner every night,” he offers with a squeeze to her thigh.

“You were terrible at surfing.”

He shrugs, not offended.

“Eh, I was improving by the end.”

That gets a laugh out of her and a thought pops into her head, her own suggestion.

“We could run boat tour in Dingle.”

“And visit with Fungie every day,” he finishes for her, inciting another laugh.

But soon she falls quiet, eyes on her hands in her lap.

“Or,” she starts and stops.

He parts her robe just a bit and rest his warm hand over her frantically beating heart, her next suggestions on the very tip of her tongue.

“Or? Or what, Emma? Your heart is racing. Tell me.”

“Or we could go back to Storybrooke?” she finally asks, voice small, full of nerves, eyes downcast but his hand leaves her heart and trails up her neck, tipping her chin up.

“Okay.”

Emma blinks, the word barely registering. It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“Just like that?” she asks.

“What did you think I was going to say?”

“You just -- you’ve never mentioned it.”

“Neither have you.”

“Killian.”

“Emma.”

She huffs and attempts to move off but his hand and wrist fall to her hips, keeping her in place.

“You just, you talk of all these exotic and extraordinary places that you’ve already been to and all these new places you want to see. But you’ve never once mentioned anything in the US, never mind Storybrooke.”

Now he does look at her like she’s at least a little crazy, so she forges on.

“I know Storybrooke may not be as glamorous as Rome or Bali or wherever, but I need to go back.”

“Emma, those are all places we can visit someday if we want to, but now? I just assumed I’d be going back with you. Did you not think I would be by your side? I’ll follow you anywhere, if you’ll have me.”

He looks away and seems to contemplate his next words.

“And perhaps I’ve been a little reluctant to talk about leaving because in one way, it means saying goodbye to Liam but--”

“It doesn’t!” she interrupts, cupping his face, passionate, sure of her statement and he smiles, turning his head to kiss her palm. “This is definitely not goodbye. This trip felt like a beginning and he’ll always be with you and any trip we take.”

“Thank you, I hope that’s true but that’s only part of what I need to explain. Perhaps you aren’t the only one with fears, Emma. I’ve quietly held onto my own worries, that you may not want me--” before he can finish his statement she covers his mouth with her hand.

“Take that back.”

And she doesn’t move her hand away until she sees the smile reach his eyes and the rumble of a chuckle in his chest.

“So does that mean you’ll have me?” he asks, hand slipping down to the knot in her robe.

“Of course.”

His fingers deftly undo the loose knot, warm hand parting her robe further, slipping it off her shoulders to pool around her waist.

“When do we leave?” he asks, moving closer, mouth finally, finally, moving along the curve of her neck, bringing goosebumps in its wake.

“Not right now.”

She feels his smile as his lips reach her jaw and move to her ear.

“How long do we have this room for again?” she asks, her voice grows softer with each press of his lips. She arches as he cups her breast, fingers finding her nipple, teasing, pinching and making her gasp.

“As long as you like.”

“A few days then, just you and me.”

Her hips rock slowly.

And she feels his groan against the curve of her shoulder before he flips them, hovering over her.

“As you wish,” he whispers as she helps him with his boxers, lowering them over his hips.

He moves against her, where she’s wet and aching for him, they both sigh.

“I’m sorry for running,” she whispers, voice tight with emotion.

He shakes his head, before capturing her lips, grounding her.

He pulls back, finding her eyes before sliding home, they both groan.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry. We’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He pulls out before sliding back, stealing her breath and taking them late into the night, together.

The next few days tumble into a week, and while she would like to say they visited all the sights, explored Dublin, got lost in history and legend, in reality they barely left the room. They rarely got dressed for that matter and it was more than okay.

They did manage to see Anna and Kris once, where Emma pulled Anna aside and thanked her for everything.

And they did get dressed to taste some whiskey at the Jameson Distillery before tumbling back into bed, a little warm, a little drunk and full of laughs that melt into moans.

But catching her breath on her final days in Dublin, Emma thinks that she might remember those days and nights caught up in each other, just as clearly as some of the most beautiful cliffs and ancient castles.

She’ll remember the comfort she felt, waking up each day, knowing there was no end no matter what happened next.

It’s this comfort that allowed her to finally pick up the phone and reach out to David and Mary Margaret. With Killian by her side, nodding encouragingly, it had been easier to not hang up when someone picked up after the first ring. It was his hand in hers that helped her apologize for taking so long to call and when Mary Margaret had protested immediately, telling Emma to take all the time she needed, it was his smile that had her asking if they could and meet and talk when she got back home.

“Any time, any where, anything you need. Oh, thank you, Emma,” Mary Margaret had whispered and Emma had known it was finally time.

They booked their flight the next day.

And as their plane climbs higher and higher into the sky, and Dublin slowly disappears from view, she knows they’ll be back again one day.

“Okay?” he whispers as they reach cruising altitude. Emma casts a last look out the window before pulling down the shade.

“Perfect. Just tired.”

“Sleep then, I’ll be here when you wake.”

She drops her head to his shoulder and does just that.

“So this is where Emma Swan calls home,” Killian says as she lets them into her little apartment, flicking on a light and breathing in the familiar smell. She glances back to him as he drops his bag and kicks off his shoes.

“I think wherever you are is home.”

She says and quickly retreats further into the house, shaky hands holding the flowers that were on her doorstep when they arrived. She had told Mary Margaret and David when they were getting in and they had kindly sent a welcome home gift.

It was surreal. She couldn’t believe things were going this smoothly, that maybe she was allowed to be this lucky.

“Swan, are these all the postcards you wrote?”

His voice is distracted, far away. She freezes as she fills a vase with water but then after a beat she lets out a slow breath.

“Unless someone else was sending me post cards.”

“Will you allow me the honor of reading them?”

She smiles at his words and then thinks of what saying yes would mean.

Should he? So many of her truths are on there. So many words to him. Now that she thinks of it, they weren’t so much postcards as love letters to Killian.

“Now?”

“Mmm,” comes his distracted reply, maybe already glancing at the back. Although she knows if she says no, he’ll drop it. It’s that truth that makes her say yes.

“Sure, go for it. I’ll just be in my room, second door on the right,” she finally responds, not like he won’t be able to find her in the small space.

She thinks maybe she can unpack, maybe she should shower, maybe -- maybe she can’t do anything until he comes to find her or she hears the front door slam shut after he runs away. She shakes the image right out of her head. She knows he won’t do that but what will he think?

Minutes pass and she settles at the edge of the bed, lying back and letting her legs dangle over the edge. She counts her breaths in an attempt to stay calm. After awhile she hears his quiet footfalls down the hall, until they come to a stop in her room.

“Emma,” he whispers but she can’t bring herself to move. She closes her eyes and he walks in further. She feels him standing at the edge of the bed, knees brushing her bent ones.

“Is it too much?”

She peeks up at him through one eye.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters in the most loving way possible and then he tells her to wait and disappears. She hears him unzip his bag and rummage around.

He comes back, still only her postcards visible in his hand.

“I love all of these. Thank you for letting me see a little glimpse into your thoughts but I have to admit, there is one I like one most of all.”

He holds up the last one, the one holding the words ingrained in her mind. She holds her breath.

“I do, I do,” he echoes the last line to her and she scrambles to sit up.

“You do?” she whispers, her question imbued with hope, with awe.

“I do. I love you too.”

She’s not going to cry again, she not going to -- he tosses the postcards onto the bed, scattering beside her and reaches into his pocket.

“Whoa.”

He smiles indulgently, fingers holding a small black velvet box.

Holy shit.

“Calm down, Swan. I’m not proposing but this is a promise. That it’s you and me, Emma, as long as you’ll have me. I don’t want you to worry about --”

“Yes.”

His words trail off and his eyebrow pops up, a grin she loves so much, pulling at his lips.

“Swan?”

“I’m not worried, not about you. It’s you and me.”

He opens the box and gently removes the ring, and even though it’s not a proposal, when he slips the delicate claddagh ring on her finger, she knows it’s forever.

“I’m so glad you found me.”

“Always.”

“And not just that day in Dublin.”

“I know, Swan and I’m pretty sure you found me too.”

He kisses her again and again, following her onto the bed.

She cups his face, pulling back long enough to make sure she has his attention.

“I love you.”

“And I you.”

She pulls him down again, vowing to never ever let go.

THE END.

---

My goodness. That’s it.

Thank you for reading, I loved writing these two and thank you for coming along on their journey.

It’s possible I may write a look into their future because I don’t want to say goodbye but... we’ll see.

Have I said thank you! <3

#cs ff #cs fanfic #csbb #csbb 2018 #captain swan #cs au #captain swan big bang #lana writes cs #fic: beauty in the aftermath #dear god it's done #i can't even believe it

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