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nightwingshero · 3 years

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12-23 all your Far Cry OCs ! 🥰

Thank you, love!!! This may have gotten a bit long...I have a lot of OCs for Far Cry, don’t @ me.

12. What OCs would have a chugging competition?

That’s an excellent question, and I think a better one would be who wouldn’t. Rowan, Grayson, Wren, Jane, and Randy are definitely the top contenders for that. Ivy would be a bit taken aback by it, and then politely decline. Whitney and Quinn...Whit would silently judge while also wishing that was her. Quinn is...he’s on the fence, I think that depends. Because he likes rooting for it, watching it, and laughing at them making fools of themselves, but if challenged, he won’t hesitate, and I think Mel would be in the same boat, but she’s less likely to rise to the challenge...she’s too uh...laid back to really feel competitive. Now, as for the kids go, it would be between Emmett, Freya, and Harper. It would start as a back and forth between Emmett and Freya, which would just pull Harper in with it as Braxton and Ana watch warily and Emmie is laughing her ass off.

13. What OCs would arm wrestle? Who would win?

Randy, Wren, Rowan, Jane, and Quinn. Hands down (see what I did there?). Jane would only do it if provoked, in any other situation, she’s rolling her eyes in the corner and calling them idiots. Randy would obviously win, though it’s a good go with Quinn...and Quinn would honestly let Wren win. He’s trying to impress her, you know? Rowan won’t get off that easily, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Girl can hold her own. If it’s the kids, Emmett and Freya, all day long. Freya is just like her mother, and she’s so damn quick to rise to a challenge, and Emmett is a cocky little shit.

14. Who would jump off the roof into a pool and who would video it?

Okay...this is probably something that’s going down at Whit’s house. And I’m telling you right now, Randy and Grayson are the first to go, quickly (and I mean quickly) followed by Jane, because she’s not going to be showed up by them at all (Grayson said something rile her up). Whitney is freaking the hell out, insisting someone is going to get hurt. Wren is videoing it because there’s no way in hell it’s not going on YouTube. Ro and Mel are actually scoring it. Ivy is trying really hard to ignore it, she got one day off and might have to play doctor anyway. It was Quinn’s idea...he just made it seem like Grayson’s and he’s enjoying the result of it while drinking an ice cold beer (he prefers vodka, but Whit didn’t have that...so she claims).

15.What OC nicknames everyone?

They all do, honestly. My Scooby Gang are a bunch of just...sarcastic assholes and sweethearts. Grayson and Ivy might be the only ones that don’t. Jane is called Viking Princess most of the time by Wren, and Randy is Lumberjack Steve. Quinn is Blondie from time to time, Wren will call him Hot Shot, too. Randy will call him “Cap” in reference to Captain America (Quinn’s favorite superhero) and with him being a Security Captain. Rowan is playfully dubbed Huntress or Bambi, depending on who you’re talking to. But Jane calls her Robin Hood or just asshole. Grayson is just...Gray. No one really has a nickname for him, except for Quinn, who calls him Speedy from his background (which Randy then tells them the story of Wren nearly driving them off a cliff). Whitney is either Mom (sarcastically, of course), Miss America, Goody Two Shoes, or just Whit. And Whitney just...calls everyone hun, darlin’, sweetheart, sweetie, dear, etc. If she’s feeling extra fiesty, she’ll give an actual sarcastic nickname (she calls Cooper cowboy and lone ranger though).

16. Who makes the plan, who follows the plan and who knows the plan is going to fail?

Making the plan consists of: Rowan, Quinn, and Randy. Ivy, Whit, and Wren are gonna follow it, and...well, Jane and Gray are gonna say “this is a stupid idea”. I honestly picuture it being that scene from Infinity War. Tony would be Rowan and Randy. Peter Quill would be Quinn. Draxx would be Grayson and Jane, Mantis is Whit and Mel. Wren is Peter Parker, and Ivy is Dr. Strange. Ivy was looking forward in time, watching every scenario in which she dies surrounded by idiots. I mean...this scene is literally just them in New Dawn.

17. Who brings a surplus amount of silly string to a party?

Wren and Mel. Mostly because it’s probably a prank to ruin Whit’s perfect hair. It takes her forever to get it out due to the hairspray, but it was worth it. Jane recorded it so she can relive the screams.

18. Who goes crazy over glow sticks?

Wren, Mel, and Randy! They love them. When they get wasted or high, they do this (its at 3:20, but seriously...watch it...because there isn’t a Brendon Urie vine that doesn’t embody one of my OCs...plus, he’s hilarious). But I could see them doing some sort of glow stick party.

19. What is your OCs favourite game to play together?

Monopoly (Jane and Quinn are scary good at it), Just Dance, Cards Against Humanity, and Heads Up. Most of them end up in hilarious fights and yelling/laughing together...because they drink when they play.

20. What OC has no directional compass yet still leads the group?

W H I T N E Y. Listen, I could literally hear the whole fucking group just collectively groan. She will swear she knows where she’s going and pretty much takes charge, even though she has no clue. But they follow anyway...so who’s really at fault here?

21. Who would pose beside a garbage can to take a picture to caption it ‘me’ later?

Wren, Grayson, and Randy. They would laugh while doing it, but Whitney would text back or show up at their house like “Sweetie, are you okay?” with cookies or some shit. Rowan is sure of herself and Mel is at peace with who she is. Quinn, Whit, Ivy, and Jane love themselves too much for that.

22. What poses do the squad like to do when taking a group photo?

Oh. My. GODDDDD. Listen, they’re always doing stupid shit, even if Whit is demanding something serious. Whit will smile with Ivy while the others are doing bunny ears, carrying each other, climbing on each other, or doing other stupid shit. Lots of kisses on the cheek, piggy back rides, “sexy” poses, and just...they never take it seriously. Whit has one (1) good photo.

23. What concert would your OCs all go to together and why that concert?

Arctic Monkeys, Queen, Lorde, or Taylor Swift, but it’ll most likely be Queen or Taylor Swift. Grayson has a huge crush on Adam Lambert, and who doesn’t love the music? And Randy knows all the words to Shake It Off and You Need to Calm Down is the group’s like....unspoken song...so...yeah, they’re going.

#oc: wren blake #oc: rowan palmer #oc: randy miller #oc: jane williams #oc: whitney seed #oc: ivy young #oc: melanie young #oc: grayson blake #oc: quinn langdon #my ocs #asks #far cry 5 #far cry new dawn #strafethesesinners

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andy-the-8th · 3 years

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Day Of and Day After - Sharon & Whit (Part 4)

Part 4 of Creatures That Defy Logic

Read on AO3

There are unique challenges being adoptive parents - sometimes your kid turns out to not be human

Sharon & Whit the day after Cody leaves

Sharon busied herself in the kitchen, violently and deftly chopping vegetables at the cutting board, then stirring a pot on the stove, then whisking together dressings, then back to chopping, back to stirring, back to whisking, absorbed in her work.

Whit patiently hovered at the counter as he watched his wife flit about the kitchen, already having been told off for trying to help, but nevertheless wanting to be on hand however he could. Sharon just wanted to cook without his assistance -"Just relax! This will only take a minute! Just something quick!"

She had said that over an hour ago. Sharon seemed to be simultaneously preparing a soup, a salad, making her own dressing, and possibly grinding up original spice blends, a frenzy of productivity.

They'd gotten back home the previous evening after leaving John Wheatley on the dock. Sharon had since thrown herself at every possible house project and hobby she could, and it hadn't even been 24 hours since they'd said goodbye. So far she'd rearranged the furniture in the living room twice "for the energy flow," had him join her in a guided meditation to some kind of throat singing, painted the back fence blue, re-painted the back fence white, rearranged every book in the house by color, then re-rearranged them by title, then re-re-rearranged them by author, then re-re-re-rearranged them by author's zodiac signs.

She was working through a lot of feelings.

Whit knew enough of his wife's coping mechanisms to know that this was in fact her own way of processing things. Other people might look at this as an attempt to distract herself from reality - Whit knew better, that this was part of her process for dealing with difficult emotions. He may only be a tour boat guide and driver, but fortunately emotional connection and attunement to each others' needs and habits had always been markers of his and Sharon's relationship - they had both spent plenty of time researching and practicing the psychology behind mindfulness and intention, putting the work and love into their marriage that it required. His family in Tennessee may joke about his wife turning him into a hippy, but he wouldn't have it another way. They had practiced and talked about how they each felt most productive to handle stress - she would reach a point of needing to talk about it, process it, grieve and vent, eventually.

But right now, she needed to be chopping, stirring, and whisking everything in the kitchen she wanted to.

They'd known since they'd chosen to adopt Cody that there may come a day where he was reconnected with his birth parents. They'd taken wholeheartedly to the nature of their role, always honest with Cody about the situation as appropriate for his age. He'd never doubted that they loved him regardless of biology, and they'd never failed to show that. Still, they'd never exactly prepared for this kind of change if his birth parents ever came back into the picture.

As if following his thoughts, Sharon looked up from doing some intricate rapid dicing of some celery and peppers. She paused, tried to smile across the kitchen, then composed her face again, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. She pursed her lips, clearly trying to calm herself before speaking.

"I just wish we didn't have to have him leave so completely."

Whit silently nodded, letting her continue. He'd been thinking much the same thing.

"I just - I know, we knew! someday his birth parents might show up! We planned for that! I read, I read so many guides for being a good adoptive mom..." she was crying now, so Whit stood up and put his arm around her shoulders to brace her. She appreciatively pressed her forehead to his shoulder, steadying her voice.

"I just thought we'd get more time to transition. I didn't plan for him leaving completely - and so young! I didn't think ---- I didn't think we'd have to make that jump so soon." Her voice was breaking between her sentences, even as she took even, measured breaths between them.

"I know hon. I know." Whit kept his voice even and warm. He knew himself enough to know that his own manner of working through stress was best when he could comfort others. It made him most comfortable and validated when he could provide support or solace for those around him - he was a natural caretaker.

They stood like that a long while, Whit gently rubbing circles on her back, Sharon resting her head into the crook of his neck, breathing together.

It wasn't until the pot on the stove suddenly started to boil over that they rapidly broke apart.

The pot had been simmering in preparation for some of the vegetables, preparing to make soup. Sharon had flipped between pescatarian and vegetarian for the last several decades, but had subtly thrown out any seafood left in the house, which Whit had pretended not to notice. As the hot water sizzled onto the stovetop, she quickly pulled the pot off the heat, while Whit grabbed some dishtowels for the floor. They quickly righted the kitchen, avoiding the boiling water and turning off the stove. The suddenness of the boil over had shocked them out of the moment - once the problem was fixed, they made eye contact again, wordlessly satisfied at how quickly they'd fixed it as a team, how seamlessly they'd averted this minor cooking disaster on a kitchen-wide scale, how they'd relied on each others' strengths to get through it - and both immediately laughed at the absurdity of the moment.

Sharon leaned back against the fridge as she and Whit's laughter subsided, pressing her back to the cool, hard surface in the small now-hot and steamed kitchen, a little breathless from the rollercoaster of feelings of the last 15 minutes. Whit got up from where he was leaning on the counter, catching his breath, moved forward, and hugged her again.

"We're going to be OK." His voice was calm and soothing. "We'll be alright, together."

"Will he?" Sharon wanted her voice to sound a bit more reassured, to not sound so small, for Whit's sake, but couldn't keep the worry out.

Whit's humor had always been something she'd loved. "Well, you were the one who read the mermaid's mind. Do you think she'll take good care of him?"

They both knew the answer, somehow, maybe by whatever magic forces that granted boys the ability to turn into fish and moms the ability to read minds. "Yes. She'll look after him. She'll look after our boy."

#the thirteenth year #dcom #disney channel original movies #adoptive parents #mermaid #mermen

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ofsinnersandsaints · 4 years

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somewhere to belong

rating: T word count total: 21,307 multi-chapter, completed

ao3

modern au fluff including but not limited to: college!jester, fjord as the hot neighbor, caduceus and beau as the best roommates and jester fulling expecting to fall in love with the guy next door but not realizing it would feel quite like this

Jester fell asleep shortly after Princess Bride ended, and Fjord maneuvered himself out from under her and started cleaning up. He found his phone and texted Beau to let her know where her roommate was and then went to bed.

He was exhausted enough he went right to sleep but woke up a few hours later; fisherman’s hours were a habit he still hadn’t managed to break. Or maybe he just hadn’t tried.

Getting up, Fjord made coffee and stepped out onto his back deck to take a picture of the sunrise he could see coming up over the woods and hills. It was odd how quickly he’d gotten back into the habit of taking pictures. If he had to put words to it, which he couldn’t help but do out here in this quiet morning, he’d say he was slowly coming back to life.

“Jessie still asleep?”

Fjord looked over and saw Beau standing on her side of the fence. “Yeah.”

“She’s a late sleeper, so she’ll be out for a while.” Beau looked down at the fence then back at Fjord. “Can I come over?”

“Sure, you want some coffee?”

“I’d love some. I take it black.” Beau climbed over the fence and by the time he’d poured another cup of coffee for her she was on his porch. She took a cautious sip before looking at him, eyes wide. “Shit, this is good.”

“I’m not a snob about most things, but I’m picky about my coffee.”

Beau nodded and settled on the porch steps with her mug and Fjord sat down next to her since he figured that’s what he was supposed to do. For a minute or two they just sat there, watching the sun rise, and he wondered why she was hanging out with him when she likely had a run to get on with, or a workout to start.

But she seemed content to just sit there with him, until she was halfway through her coffee when she let out a heavy breath. “It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“What?”

She smirked down at the coffee, as if she couldn’t quite make herself look at him. “Learning how to care about people.”

Fjord stared at her for a long moment before swearing under his breath. “She got you too, huh?”

Beau laughed, but she kept the sound quiet. “Yeah. She was looking for roommates when we met, and I wasn’t sure about her at first, but when it comes to Jester it’s hard to look away.”

He resisted the urge to look back at the house, but he didn’t need to. When he’d gotten up he’d seen her stretched out on the couch, hair covering her face, talking quietly in her sleep. It was a mental picture he’d keep close for a while. “Yeah, I’m getting that.”

“You seem like a pretty decent guy so I’m not going to insult either of us by telling you not to hurt her, but you should know she was crazy isolated as a kid. Her mom loves her, there’s no doubt about it, but she was a little overprotective so Jester didn’t have the kind of upbringing either of us had.”

He didn’t quite the put the pieces together, and Beau was happy to fill in the blanks when he obviously didn’t catch on to what she was saying. “She hasn’t dated much.”

“Oh.”

“So you know-“

“I haven’t either,” he interrupted her, feeling himself heat at the admission. “Dated much, I mean. I spent most of my life on a boat, and I didn’t swing the way of fellow sailors, so my chances at dating were pretty limited.”

He thought about how awkward he’d always felt around the opposite sex; how it constantly seemed as if there were rules he didn’t know about that everyone else had already learned. It had always been easier to avoid the situation altogether than to stumble along, trying to pretend like he knew what he was doing. “Jester’s the first time in a while I wanted to risk looking like an idiot for someone.”

“Fuck,” Beau laughed, finishing off the coffee. “You guys are perfect for each other.”

Fjord smiled, enjoying the idea even though he knew it wasn’t true. He’d learned a few years back some people fit together, they weren’t made for each other, and there was a world of difference between those two thoughts. “What about you? You got someone you’re willing to look like an idiot for?”

She snorted and he was amused, felt a friendship slide into place at the sound. “Absolutely not. I’m not the relationship type. I like women, don’t get me wrong, I love women - but I’ve tried over and over to make relationships work and it’s like putting on a shoe that’s too tight. Doesn’t work and people end up hurt.”

Fjord rolled over the answer in his head, “What about Yasha?”

Beau sighed, half a century’s worth of longing in the sound. “Yasha’s all about commitment. She was married once before and her wife died, it’s all pretty fucking tragic, and I think if she ever moved on-big if-she’d want something equally invested in forever. I’d hate to date her and figure out it didn’t work for me and hurt her all over again.”

“That’s a pretty shitty situation.”

“Yeah, but if I’m not making things complicated, what am I doing?” she teased, her voice filled with self-deprecation and humor. “I’m going to go running, thanks for the coffee.”

“Sure, anytime.”

“And whenever you’re ready to join me just let me know,” she said as she stood up, handing the mug back to him. “Be happy, Fjord.”

“Be happy, Beau.”

Fjord sat out there for a minute more, watched as the sun finished rising over his backyard, the golden light painting everything it touched.

Be happy.

It should have been a simple suggestion, but there was a part of him which was terrified by the idea. Being happy meant it could be taken away, and he’d learned the hard what that felt like.

The boat, Vandran, even Sabian had been part of his happy, and then they’d all been brutally taken away without notice. But looking back at everything, he wouldn’t trade the days he’d had in order to erase the heartache he lived with now.

And he knew without thinking, in the place where he held what little faith he had, that he’d risk every measure of heartache to be happy with Jester for another day longer.

If she was ripped away from him, he didn’t want to look back with regret that he hadn’t loved her enough while he had her.

“Be happy,” he repeated to himself.

Getting up, he made the decision to be exactly that.

Jester woke up in a bed, which was weird because she hadn’t fallen asleep in a bed.

She’d fallen asleep on Fjord.

Opening her eyes, she looked around the room. It was simple. The headboard looked like it was made from driftwood, there wasn’t any art on the walls, but there was a windchime made from seashells at the open window. She stared at it, enjoying the soft sounds coming from it.

She pictured Fjord doing the same thing each morning and wondered if he’d used the sound to remind him he wasn’t on the boat when he woke up from nightmares. Jester doubted fishermen had windchimes on boats.

Still in her pajamas from the night before she pulled back the blankets and had a realization. Looking at the other side of the bed she noticed the blankets were still in place.

Jester wondered how long she’d been sleeping there and if the cowboy had thrown his back out sleeping on the couch. She hoped not.

Padding her way through the house she used the bathroom and then followed the smell of something good to the kitchen.

Her hand shot to her heart as she looked at the spread on the kitchen table. Fjord must have been cooking for hours because there were pancakes and waffles and cinnamon rolls covering nearly every inch of the kitchen table along with bacon and sausage.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat.”

She jumped a little at the sound of his voice; for the first time he’d gotten the jump on her.

Spinning around to look at him she knew there were a dozen hearts in her eyes. “You did this?”

“Well, the cinnamon rolls were from a can, but everything else, yeah.”

Jester turned back to the food, feeling absurdly teary eyed at the gesture. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“Awful full of yourself, aren’t you,” he teased. “To just assume I did it for you.”

She laughed and moved to inspect the food closer, already trying to figure out how much she could eat. Did he cover those strawberries in sugar? Because they were always better when-Fjord grabbed her as she stepped away from him, his hand closing around her arm.

“Hold up,” he drawled. “I know it’s going to be hard keeping your attention when there’s a fuck-ton of sugar in front of you, but I want to say something first.”

Jester turned around, putting her back to the kitchen table, and got her first real look of Fjord. He seemed a little tired but there was something about him which made her think of a leaf floating down a quiet river. Peaceful.

“What is it? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Jester. Everything’s fine.” He shifted on his feet and after a moment he took both of her hands in his and her heart stuttered before flinging itself of a cliff.

Oh shit, oh god, oh shit. It was happening.

“Do we have to do this now?” she asked, and then saw the immediate confusion on his face and stumbled over her words to clarify. “I just woke up. I have morning breath. I don’t know what my hair looks like. This is not how I pictured this happening.”

“You pictured this?” he asked, his smile was soft and affectionate, and she liked the fact he didn’t seem particularly mad or frustrated she’d just hijacked his profession. “For how long exactly?”

“At least three months,” she answered honestly because what was the point of lying?

He laughed and tugged her closer, his arms coming around her waist, and for the first time in her life she wished she was a little taller so she wasn’t looking so far up at him. “We haven’t known each other for the three months.”

She snorted, “As if reality has ever stopped me from daydreaming something. I saw you, I don’t remember what day it was or anything, but I was coming into the house and you must have just picked up wood for the boat because you were unloading two by fours from your truck. Sadly, you were wearing a shirt, but it was still very hot.”

“I don’t remember the first time I saw you.”

Jester shrugged. “There was no reason for you to have seen me, but I saw you, and I was constantly thinking about the handsome man next door and who he was, what he was doing, why he always seemed to be home. I thought you might be a bank robber.”

“I’ve never been that cool in my life.”

She smiled and figured she’d have plenty of time to convince him of how cool he was. “I thought about how we’d meet, how you’d instantly want me, and how you’d express you’re undying love and devotion. There would be sunflowers.”

“Well, I hope pancakes will do.”

“Are you kidding?” she nearly hopped from one foot to another, there was so much excitement in her body. “Pancakes are better than anything I could have thought of.”

“Jester,” he shook his head. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Finally,” she whispered, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down to her.

Technically, he didn’t kiss her. Instead, they kissed each other, meeting somewhere in the middle.

Fjord pulled her in close and she loved the feeling of his body pressed against hers, of his hands on her back. She ran her fingers through the short strands of his hair as tongue pressed against her lips, she opened for him as she settled her hands on his shoulders.

“Hold on,” Jester pulled back, just a little breathless. “I’m too short for this.”

Jester looked around the room and moved to the long cabinet, pressing her back against it. “There, now I won’t be balanced on my tip-toes.”

Fjord bent a little to adjust to her height, and she briefly thought about how the difference wouldn’t matter if they were in bed together, and kissed her again.

And again and again.

His hands were greedier than she would have anticipated, and he kissed like- well, she didn’t have a lot of experience for comparison, but he kissed like he craved her, which was all that really mattered.

“Are my roommates going to call the police because they think I’ve been kidnapped?” Jester asked because she needed to catch her breath and also because she couldn’t decide whether to strip down or eat breakfast.

It was a tough call.

“I texted Beau last night, and again when I heard you get up. I told her I’d text in a half hour and she said she would be very disappointed in both of us if it didn’t take us at least 45 minutes.”

Jester laughed and wrapped her arms around his middle, loving how passion should ease so subtly into friendship. “She’s a classy lady, my friend.”

He leaned down, surely to kiss her again, but Jester stopped him halfway with a hand on his chest. “Not that I don’t very much want to continue along that avenue, but if my memory serves me correctly you told me you had something you wanted to say and while you’re mouth has been doing some excellent things, it hasn’t been saying anything.”

His smile was crooked, like he’d been caught at something. “Fair enough. Why don’t we eat while we talk? Less chance of us getting…distracted.”

“Fair deal,” she took his hand and led him to the table, sitting next to him as they each filled up their plates. He took most of the meat, she took most of the sugar, and there was something about that which made her smile because it was right. She couldn’t have explained it with words, but it was like two pictures meant to hang next to each other finally on the same wall.

“I know this is going to come as a surprise, but I like you Jester, a lot.”

She looked up from the waffles, pretending to be shocked. “What?! You do?!”

Fjord laughed and took a bite of his waffle. “I’m still a mess, and that’s not going to stop anytime soon, but I don’t want to miss out on something with you because I’m trying to be good enough.”

Jester’s face softened; she knew when to tease, and she knew when to be serious. “I don’t like that you think you’re not good enough, Fjord.”

He moved his shoulders like he was trying to adjust the weight on them. “Maybe that’s not the right way to phrase it because I don’t think I’m a bad guy. I guess a better way to put it is-well, I guess my living room.”

She wanted to press him, but she kept herself busy with the food while he found the right words. Everything he’d made was surprisingly good, she’d have to figure out Fjord’s favorite food so she could cook for him next time.

It had been a long time since she’d tried to cook anything, but she’d try for him.

“I’d planned on painting it by myself, it never occurred to me to ask for help. Ever since the ship went down that’s how I’ve done everything; on my own. It’s knee jerk at this point, and it’s going to take some effort to remember to reach out and that’s kind of how it is figuring out how to get back to living. My instinct is to go it alone, but it doesn’t work like that. I need you. And I’d like to have Cad and Beau in my life too.”

“I hope you don’t plan on making out with them too,” she couldn’t help but tease.

“I very much doubt Beau would let me survive that,” he replied dryly, his mouth quirking up at the ends. “This is all a very long-winded way of saying I want you in my life, but I’m out of practice having people in my life. So, if you’re up for it, I’d really like to take you out on a proper date.”

Jester picked up a strawberry and nibbled on it to give herself time to think. “You know about my mama, and I think you understand more about me than most people I know. You get me. And I like to think I get you too.”

He nodded and she felt encouraged to keep going. “I know you’re smarter than you think, and stronger than you realize. I know you’re super hot, and have a really great smile.”

Fjord pressed his lips together as if to keep himself from smiling, but he couldn’t do anything about the blush covering his cheeks, which thrilled her. She’d like to spend the rest of her life making Fjord blush. “And I don’t go care about the mess in your head, or the baggage you think you have. We all have baggage, it’s just looks different when it’s ours.”

She scooted her chair closer to his, not caring about the scraping noise it made on the wood floor. “And that’s all a very long-winded way of saying yes, I’d like to go on a date with you.”

“Tonight?”

Jester nodded and took a bite of a strawberry so she wouldn’t kiss him again. “Tonight.”

“I don’t understand why you’re not at your house bugging Jester,” Fjord said to Beau as he finished buttoning up his shirt. She was sitting cross legged on his bed, wearing a baggy sweatshirt and cuffed workout pants with flipflops.

It was an interesting look.

“Jester’s way more confident about this stuff than you, so I figured you’d need me more.”

“Thanks?”

He sat down next to her so he could put on his shoes while she fiddled with her hair. “Cad’s over there,” she added as she tugged out the hair tie and her hair fell down to her shoulders. He was surprised at how long it was and realized it was the first time he’d ever seen it down. “He’s a calmer presence than me and when Jester gets wound up he’s better at soothing.”

Fjord laughed. “You’re not soothing? Color me shocked.”

She flipped him off. “Where are you going?”

“I have plans,” he evaded. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But how do you know it’s a good idea if I don’t tell you it’s a good idea,” she pressed. “That’s a nice flannel, can I have it?”

Fjord followed her gaze and saw the blue plaid shirt on his chair. “No.”

“Rude.” She rested her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee. “You going to do it?”

The heat raced up the back of his neck, but he was too shocked to truly be embarrassed. “For fuck’s sake, Beau.”

“I’m just saying, you have to prepare for that kind of thing, you know. Do you have condoms?”

He shook his head and grabbed her arm, pulling her off the bed so she was standing next to it. “Okay, time for you to go.”

“I was just trying to be helpful,” and Fjord completely believed she was trying to be helpful. The problem was she was the exact opposite, so he dragged her across the front yard to her door and opened it.

Jester was standing in the living room, presumably talking to Cad who was in front of her, and they both turned as he and Beau walked in.

“Fjord?” Jester asked, obviously confused at his sudden presence in her house. “Are you picking me up for our date?”

“Nope, I’m just returning your friend. Please keep her here.”

“Fuck you, Fjord!” Beau yelled through the door as he shut it behind him, but she didn’t sound particularly angry so he figured she was good.

Back in his own house he grabbed his phone, his wallet, resisted the urge to check himself in the mirror, and then picked up his keys. On the way out he grabbed what he’d need for the date and got into his truck.

It may be dumb to drive next door, but he was a gentleman and it seemed ridiculous to walk over to her house just to walk her back to his to get into the car.

Whatever, good guys picked up the girl and knocked on her door which is what he did when he was standing in front of her house for the second time in five minutes.

Caduceus opened the door with a smile. “We’ve given Beau a protein shake, so she should be good for a while. Jester! You have a gentleman caller!”

Fjord muttered a curse under his breath but his mild aggravation at his new group of friends was offset by his amusement of them.

Jester popped out from the back of the house and he got his first good look at her; she wore high heels and a dark pink dress with a smile that stretched for miles.

She was easily the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she greeted back, grabbing her purse from the chair. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he answered, but didn’t move as she walked towards him. Fjord waited until she was directly in front of him before telling her, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” and he thought he saw the slightest hint of a blush on her cheeks. “If we don’t go now Caduceus or Beau will be weird.”

“Don’t worry, they’ve both already covered that.” He held out his hand to her and she accepted it, threading her fingers through his. “Bye guys!”

“Don’t wait up,” Jester hollered over her shoulder as they walked out the front door. “So, where are we going?”

“Surprise.”

“I love surprises!” she reacted, pure glee in her voice as he helped her into his truck. “As long as the surprise isn’t murder.”

Fjord laughed as he put the vehicle into drive. “You hear from your ma today?”

“Yeah, she’s doing good right now. I told her I was going on a date.”

“Yeah? How’d that go.”

“Pretty good. I thought she’d freak out, because she just asked for a picture of you and said you’re very handsome and have kind eyes.”

“That was nice of her.” He put his hand out between them and Jester took it, holding it on her lap. “I’d like to meet her.”

“She’d like to meet you too. I’ll figure out a good time.”

They kept on talking for the short drive to the beach and he watched Jester’s face light up as she realized where they were heading. “The beach?”

“Supposed to be a nice night,” he answered, hoping this was a good idea. He backed up into the parking spot so the bed of his truck was facing out towards the sunset and the horizon. “Come on.”

He met Jester at the back of the truck and when she would have headed towards the sand, he stopped her by grabbing her hand. “Nope, we have to eat first.”

“Eat?”

“You think I’m taking you on a date and not feeding you?” he asked, pulling down the tailgate where he’d previously put a handful of blankets and pillows he’d found around his house. “I thought about eating on the beach but the idea of chewing sand didn’t appeal to me.”

“Well, for fuck’s sake Fjord, how am I supposed to top this?”

Fjord laughed as he put his hands on her hips to lift her onto the blankets where the picnic basket sat not far away. “Why do you have to top this?”

She adjusted herself on the blankets, sitting cross-legged with her dress billowing out around her. “For our second date.”

“We’re taking turns?” he asked, pulling out two bottles from the basket. One beer, the other a container of Kool-Aid.

“It’s only fair. What else do you have in there?”

“What we got here is a real Southern picnic,” and he pulled out potato salad, fried chicken, and a pie. “You have to eat the real food before you get dessert.”

Jester laughed. “You already know me so well.”

The date was perfect.

She was walking down the beach with her hand in Fjord’s, the tide lapping at their feet and the midnight blue sky sparkling with diamonds above them.

Jester wouldn’t call what she was feeling love, but she knew in fifty years she’d be telling her grandkids that this was it, this was the moment she knew Fjord was the one.

Next to her, Fjord knelt down to pick up a seashell and he put it in his pocket so automatically it made her wonder how often he did that. Maybe he had a box tucked away in his closet full of seashells he’d found on a dozen different beaches.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been out here,” he said as he stood up.

It sounded like a confession, so Jester pressed her shoulder against his arm so he knew she was there. “Too hard?”

“Yeah. I haven’t gone out since the accident.”

Jester was surprised. He’d never said anything about going out on the water, but she just figured he was constantly sailing or whatever. “But you’re building a boat.”

He nodded and looked out at the water. “It’s a great way of procrastinating.”

She remembered asking him to take her sailing in the lighting aisle of a hardware store and he’d mentioned she’d be gone by the time he was ready to go out. There was a part of her which wondered if he hadn’t just been talking about the boat being finished.

“You’ll get there.”

He seemed surprised by her confidence. “You think so?”

“I told you, Fjord. You’re stronger than you think. And if you want, Beau, Cad, and I can come with you. If you think it’ll help,” she added with a shrug.

“It might.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” she told him as they started to head back to the car. It was getting cold and neither of them had brought jackets. And because they were good at trading one secret for another, she continued. “I was thinking about looking for my dad.”

He didn’t look surprised and she liked that. “Are you?”

“Ever since you asked Nott about finding people,” she explained with a shrug, trying not to make it seem like a big deal. “I don’t know how much it’ll cost, or where to start, but I want answers.”

“You don’t think Marion will tell you?”

“I think if she was going to, she would have.” It was hard not to be angry at her mother for keeping this from her, but she understood wanting to protect the people she cared about. But she was an adult now, and this was what she wanted. “I’ll have to look through her stuff next time I’m home. I bet she’s got super sexy love letters from him or something.”

Fjord laughed. “You’re just going to snoop through her stuff?”

“Yeah!” and she didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about it. “If she’s not going to tell me, I’m going to figure it out for myself. Are you going to take me home tonight?”

She giggled as he stumbled in the sand. “To my house you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Uh. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”

“I have.”

“You have?”

“Oh, yeah.”

How could she not have thought about it? She was a red-blooded, straight female. Of course she’d looked at Fjord across the fence and wondered what it would be like to have his weight on her. And once she’d met him? All she could think about was what his voice would sound like while they had sex, what those calloused hands would feel like on her skin.

It was wildly inappropriate how much she’d thought about him naked, and one day she’d tell him about every fantasy she’d ever had.

“But it’s cool if you don’t want to tonight,” she assured him. “I just wanted to let you know whenever you’re interested, I’m interested.”

“I uh, don’t have much in the way of experience in those matters.”

“You mean fucking? Yeah, me neither, but I think we could figure it out together. We’re already pretty good at kissing.”

Fjord nodded as he pulled her close as if he wanted to prove her point; he kissed her with the sound of the ocean in the background, the salty breeze moving around them.

It was soft and warm and lit something inside of Jester which spread through every limb so she could feel it in her toes and fingertips. Maybe most people would have described it as a fire, but to her it was more like sliding into a hot bath after spending hours outside in the cold.

When she pulled back she looked up at Fjord, and saw a dozen thoughts in his eyes. “You’re thinking awful loud over there.”

As he looked at her it was as if she could feel everything he felt, and it nearly overwhelmed her with its intensity.

He was quiet for so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer but after a few moments he let out a sigh as if it was the first deep breath he’d taken in years. “I was just thinking, it feels really good to be home.”

Jester thought about his arms around her, her chest pressed against his as the smell of the ocean drifted around them. The world felt so big, and at the same time impossibly small with the ocean stretched out for days in front of them. She smiled up at him, because when she told this story in fifty years it wasn’t just going to be the day she knew Fjord was it for her…

It was the day she knew she’d never anyone the way she loved him.

“I know what you mean," and she kissed him again.

#fjorester #fjord #jester #critical role #critical role fic

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storybook-souls · 5 years

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nanowrimo update

at the risk of jinxing it, it’s going great, actually! I’m at 6000 words after 3 days, putting me at a comfortable 1000 words above the target, which is decent considering that I was abnormally busy this weekend, though I did have that “initial idea” motivation spurring me on.

and i got to write this fun scene where my protagonists encounter an eldritch [redacted] creature, which I’m going to put here because aside from all the sketchy un-edited-ness of NaNo i kinda like it! also i KNOW this is not how cameras work, I KNOW, but i wasn’t thinking about it until I had already written that paragraph so uhhhh i’ll fix it in post

They leap the fence again and plunge toward the water, Bella quickly shedding her sandals so she can stick her feet in the lake as Casey takes the camera out of her bag and slings the strap around her neck. They’ve gotten here just in time--the sun is setting into the water, bleeding red and orange across clouds and lake alike. Gulls are flying overhead, dipping and weaving as the wind picks up and starts to cool the land off from a hot day. There are boats out on the water, and distant conversations and even music can still be heard from the main beach, but the trees and the building are creating a buffer, giving Bella and Casey a tiny pocket which is just theirs.

Bella is already almost a foot deep in the lake. “Be careful,” Casey calls lightly. “We haven’t proven that Bessie doesn’t like to nibble on unsuspecting toes.”

It’s a dumb joke, but between the sun and the water and the possibilities of the week ahead there is already more than enough joy bubbling up from within Bella’s soul, so she laughs openly and fully, turning around to look at Casey as she does.

The wind is whipping a few tendrils of red hair around her face, and she lifts a hand to brush them away. She’s standing there in her camp t-shirt and denim shorts, cold water up to her shins and golden light on her freckled skin and so much happiness shining in her eyes that it almost takes Casey’s breath away. “Don’t move,” she says, lifting her camera to catch this moment, to make it last, somehow, if it can last.

Bella obliges. “Oh, if this is for Twitter we should get one of both of us!”

“It’s not for Twitter,” says Casey, tongue poking out a little as she snaps pictures from different angles, stepping as close to the water as she can without getting her combat boots wet. “You just look really beautiful.”

She says it absently, not even registering the potential impact of the words until they’ve already left her lips, but she does register the way Bella goes uncharacteristically quiet. When Casey glances at her face through the viewfinder, the blazing smile has been replaced by something a little bit softer, and the pink in her cheeks may or may not be due to the light.

Casey, trying to ignore the heat in her own cheeks, goes back to focusing the picture. She’s suddenly wishing she’d brought her better lens, as she’s having trouble getting this one to lock correctly. This particular camera uses an auto-assisted focus, and it keeps ignoring Bella as the subject of the picture and trying to focus on--

What the fuck is it trying to focus on?

Casey is suddenly standing very still, eye still pressed against the camera’s viewfinder, trying to process the signals her brain is receiving. Something has emerged from the woods behind Bella and is moving quickly toward the water. It looks almost like a deer, but Casey has never seen something that is more distinctly not a deer. Everything about the way it moves is wrong, jerky, like a bad animation reel by someone who only spent a couple minutes on it and didn’t use any reference shots.

Casey takes a picture. And then another, and then another. And then she switches the camera to video mode. “Bella,” she says very quietly as she does so. “Can you just--can you just look behind you?”

Bella’s brow furrows for a second, her smile dampening a little as she catches the tension in Casey’s voice, and she quickly but carefully glances over her shoulder. “What the fuck,” she breathes out, and then, “are you getting this?”

“I’m getting it.”

The creature is maybe fifty feet from them, maybe a hundred, Casey’s never been good with distances. Its movements are somewhere between a trot and a lope, leisurely, not seeming spooked at all. It has four legs, and a tail, which sticks straight out behind it at a right angle. It seems to have hooves. It’s leaving no footprints in the sand. Casey is categorizing all of these details individually, filing them away and filtering them past real creatures she knows of, trying to make the thing in front of her fit with something that is known, something that could make sense.

She glances back down at the camera, double-checking that it’s recording. It is, and the picture is perfectly clear.

Bella starts to turn so that she’s properly facing the creature. The shifting of her feet in the water is barely louder than the waves against the shore, but the creature freezes and its head snaps in Casey and Bella’s direction.

Casey keeps collecting details. A snout, deer-like. Long, sharp teeth. Horns. Three eyes--four eyes--so many eyes. Looking at the creature’s eyes is like looking at static.

In front of Casey, Bella takes an involuntary step back. There’s a rushing, whirring noise in her head that started as soon as the creature looked at her. It tips its head slightly. It smiles.

There’s sick spinning in Casey’s stomach, and she feels like maybe the world is going to flip upside down, maybe the red in the water is blood after all.

Bella looks at the creature and she does not move, and it does not move, and it smiles, somehow, with a mouth that shouldn’t be able to smile, and there’s chills running up and down Bella’s spine but she smiles back.

A second later, the creature that is not a fox and not a deer and definitely not something that looks like it can breathe underwater turns and runs into the water and is gone faster than Bella would have thought possible, as if Lake Erie swallows it up.

They stand there for a moment in total silence. Bella’s mouth is hanging slightly open as she stares at the little waves where the creature was a moment ago.

“Okay,” she finally says, turning back to look at Casey. “What the fuck was that?”

Casey calmly stops the recording, hands the camera to Bella, and throws up into the lake.

#nanowrimo #my writing #am writing #writeblr

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wistfulcynic · 5 years

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Another Brick In The Wall: Chapter 8

a/n: Effusive thanks to @hollyethecurious for the artwork! I love it so much! Thanks also to everyone for reading, commenting, kudos-ing, and reblogging! I'm so pleased by the way people have been engaging with this story. Love you all xxx

Summary: Emma Swan, sheriff’s daughter, mayor’s niece, quarterback’s girlfriend, is the undisputed princess of Storybrooke High. She is smart and confident and used to getting what she wants. What she wants is Killian Jones, the new boy in school. But Killian is not easily manipulated, and reluctant to allow the dark secrets in his past to touch the girl he is rapidly falling in love with.

Rating: T

Tags for: @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 and @resident-of-storybrooke

Chapter 8:

Killian was out of school for a week, for a “mental health break” he called it with a chuckle, apparently a term he’d gotten from Dr Hopper. He saw the psychiatrist daily during this break and spent the rest of his time at the harbour with Liam, working on their boat, reading, playing his guitar, and talking with his brother about everything that had happened.

“We’ve hashed it all out in excruciating detail,” he told Emma as they sat together in the boat’s cabin, she working on her college essays while he practiced a new song. “It’s such a relief to be able to really talk to Liam again. There was a time when we had no secrets between us. He showed me all the information he had collected on Milah and her situation. Apparently her divorce is almost finalised and next month she’s starting a job teaching English in Japan.” He smiled. “She’ll like that, a chance to travel. What she always wanted.”

“Hmmmph,” said Emma, glaring at the screen of her laptop as she typed rapidly.

“Swan,” he admonished, giving her a mock scowl as he strummed a chord at her.

Emma slammed her hands down on the keyboard. “Killian, I just don’t know how you can be so forgiving after what she did to you.”

He set the guitar aside and his expression became serious. “I have to be, don’t you see?” he asked, looking at her intently. “I can’t hold on to my anger or it will eat me alive. I didn’t even realise how angry I was until Dr Hopper helped me see it, and how by not acknowledging it, allowing myself to feel it, and then letting it go, I was only hurting myself. Besides, I did genuinely care about Milah, and I’m glad she’s finally in a place where she can be happy.”

“Hmmmmph.” Emma concentrated on deleting the gibberish she’d produced by her attack on the keyboard.

“A place that doesn’t include me,” said Killian brightly, picking up the guitar again and plucking out a cheery tune. “That’s good, isn’t it Swan?”

“I suppose so,” she grumbled. “Though I’d still prefer if the place was dark and scary and full of nettles.” He laughed heartily at that and she couldn’t hold back an answering smile. “Hey, I’m nearly done with this, will you read it over and make sure it’s okay? Just check my grammar and punctuation and stuff.”

“Of course, love, though I’m sure it’s already brilliant.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Freed from the weight of his worry and guilt, Killian gradually began to smile more easily, and his witty, teasing nature (“cheeky git,” Liam called him, his voice irritated but with a relief so profound it bordered on joy in his eyes) came more readily to the fore. When he returned to school the following Monday, he moved through the halls with a swagger that Emma had never seen on him before. Unlike the arrogant, bullying one that Neal always had Killian’s evoked a simple self-assurance that she had to concede looked really good on him. Despite how much emotional baggage he still had to work through he clearly wasn’t burdened by shame anymore, and equally clearly did not intend to take any crap from anyone.

This made itself evident that morning when he shut his locker and turned towards his first class, only to find himself confronted by Felix and Rufio.

“Really, chaps?” he said, raising an eyebrow at them. “You couldn’t even wait until after school so you could chuck me into the bins, like proper high school bullies?”

This mockery went clean over the other boys’ heads, and they continued to block his path, trying to look intimidating while also trying not to be intimidated by Killian’s calm demeanor and his amused expression.

Felix, the sligtly cleverer of the two, suspected he was being laughed at but couldn’t put his finger on why. He didn’t like it.

Bristling, he sneered at Killian. “Bet you think you’ve won,” he snarled. “Now that Neal’s in jail and out of the way. Now you can move in on Emma like you did on that—” he broke off as Killian stepped into his space. There wasn’t much difference in height between them, but somehow Felix had the impression of Killian towering over him, his face calm but his eyes darkly furious, and for once in his life he felt a stab of genuine fear.

“I’m only going to say this once,” growled Killian in the new, lower register his voice had taken on more often of late, “So you’d better listen carefully. Your mate Neal is a criminal, and not even a good one. He’s in jail because he’s stupid, and that’s nothing to do with me. I have no doubt it’s where he’d always have ended up eventually. Bit of advice: If you’re going to steal confidential information, don’t take pictures of the evidence on your phone, and definitely don’t then show those pictures to the sheriff’s daughter. Neal got what he deserved. I now consider this matter closed, and if you or anyone else—” he raised his voice so that the rapidly assmbling crowd of onlookers could all hear, “—tries to take it any further, you will not care for the repercussions.”

Felix wasn’t sure what “repercussions” were, but the hint of repressed violence in Killian’s manner made him keen not to find out. He had always been content to follow Neal, less out of respect for the other boy than a simple unwillingness to make a thing out of Neal’s belligerent insistence that he should be the one in charge, but he’d always sensed that there wasn’t much substance underneath Neal’s bluster. Killian however didn’t bluster. He simply stated facts, and Felix could tell that he was not the sort of person to make a threat he couldn’t back up with action. Perhaps it was time to step out of Neal’s shadow, thought Felix, and take over leadership of their little gang. He certainly couldn’t do a worse job of it than Neal had, and escalating a pointless conflict with a guy who looked prepared to fight dirty if necessary was much more Neal’s style than Felix’s. He nodded at Killian, and stepped back. Rufio looked surprised but followed his lead.

Killian nodded back then transferred his glare to the crowd of onlookers, which had grown considerably in the past thirty seconds and now included Emma and Ruby, he could see out of the corner of his eye. “As for what you may have heard about me,” he said, loudly enough for all to hear. “It’s all true.” He smirked for a moment as a gasp went through the crowd, then his expression hardened. “It’s also no one’s business but mine, and those in whom I choose to confide. This is all I have to say on the subject. Now, if you’ll all excuse me I don’t wish to be late for class.” He slung his satchel over his shoulder and headed down the hall, turning his head briefly to shoot Emma a wink. People moved aside to let him pass and as soon as he had turned the corner furious whispering erupted in his wake.

Ruby pursed her lips. “I may have underestimated him,” she remarked.

Emma’s heart was pounding, a familiar occurrence where Killian was concerned, but this time it felt different. She’d been worried about how he would react to the ineveitable curiosity and questions from their classmates, but this smooth handling of a potentially explosive situation instead of calming her fears instead filled her with the wild desire to run after him, to fling herself into his arms and kiss them both breathless.

“He’s just so wonderful,” she sighed, and Ruby laughed.

“Down, girl,” she teased. “I’ll grant you this one’s worth your time, unlike the douchemaster general, but remember we’re in school. No one wants to see that.”

Emma rolled her eyes and gave her friend a shove, but the butterflies continued rhumba-ing around her insides, this time accompanied by an odd, hollow sort of ache as she remembered her resolution not to pursue Killian anymore. She was now all but certain that she loved him, that beyond the hot, tingly sensation she always felt in his presence lay a profound devotion. She would do anything for him, sacrifice anything to give him what he needed, and that terrified her. For the first time in her life Emma felt vulnerable, exposed, as though her chest were torn open and her heart lain bare to the mercies of fate and one gorgeous, troubled boy. She hated it. Even knowing that Killian would never intentionally hurt her was no consolation when the truth was that he could hurt her simply by caring deeply for her as a friend. If that was all she could ever have from him she would take it, she knew, without pushing for more, but it would be a wound on her heart that would never heal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He’s a bully,” shrugged Killian at lunchtime, when Emma, this time accompanied by a very inquisitive Ruby, found him in the library. “Bullies are just cowards at their core, and cowards are easy to intimidate. He won’t do anything because he won’t want to call my bluff. I might not be able to back it up but he’ll be too scared to risk finding out.”

“And what would you have done if he had called your bluff?” inquired Ruby.

Killian shrugged again. “Probably got the shit kicked out of me.”

“Would you have, though?” Ruby pressed, watching him through narrowed eyes.

He returned her stare with a look of wide-eyed innocence. “There were two of them to only one of me. Seems inevitable.”

“Does it?” Ruby’s disbelief was almost palpable, and having fenced with Killian for months now Emma shared her friend’s suspicion that he was deliberately underplaying his fighting skills.

“Let’s hope we never have to find out,” said Killian with a small smile, in a tone of voice that made it clear he would answer no more questions on the subject. “I quite like my face arranged the way it is.”

“It is a nice face,” said Ruby with a wolfish grin that widened as Killian’s ears turned pink. “But I didn’t come here just to flatter you. Victor asked me to ask you if he could have your phone number.”

“My number?” Killian blinked in surprise.

“Yeah, there’s some concert in Portland and he doesn’t have anyone to go with and he thought you might be interested.”

“Um, sure, I guess.” Killian rattled off the number and Ruby sent Victor a text. A minute later his phone buzzed and he looked at it, snorting as he read the message. “Bit of a wanker, your boyfriend,” he remarked to Ruby.

“I don’t know what that is but I’m somehow sure that Victor is one,” smirked Ruby. “Is that gonna be a problem?”

“Not at all, I’m rather fond of wankers,” said Killian absently as he typed his reply. “My brother is one, after all.” His phone buzzed again almost instantly and he raised an eyebrow at what he read on it.

“Ems, I think maybe we should leave the boys to their chat,” said Ruby, and as much as she hated to sacrifice free time with Killian, from the way he was fixated on his phone, his expression almost gleeful as he typed rapidly, Emma had to admit she was probably right.

“Okay,” she said. “See you in class in a few minutes, Killian. And maybe hang out after school?”

“Hmmm? Oh, I have an appointment with Dr Hopper at four, but I can text you when I’m done.”

“Okay.” She smiled at him but his attention was back on his phone, so she followed Ruby out of the library trying not to feel too disgruntled. Killian should have other friends, she told herelf firmly, male ones who shared his interests. That was normal, and he could use some normal in his life right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next few weeks, things at school settled back into a routine, albeit one that was markedly different than it had been. Neal had been officially arrested after David’s investigation, charged with burglary, theft, and theft of a medical record, and was facing up to five years in prison. His parents had put up their house as collateral to pay his bail, but weren’t allowing him to return to school.

“Not much point when he’ll just go straight back to the slammer after he’s sentenced,” said Ruby viciously. “So much for that football scholarship he was so cocky about.”

Emma tried to find some compassion for Neal and what was basically the wreck and ruin of his future, but couldn’t dredge up a single particle of it. He had committed several felonies for no other reason than to stick it to Killian for outsmarting him and for becoming her friend, and he’d committed them flagrantly and with no thought to the consequences. He’d probably thought there wouldn’t be any consequences. Killian was right: Neal deserved everything that was coming to him, if only for being so colossally, arrogantly stupid.

People still whispered about Killian as he walked through the halls but true to character he paid little attention. He did, however, gradually began to open up more and allow more of himself to show through his defences, willingly participating in classes and talking to people other than Emma and Ruby. By the time finals week arrived had actually made a few friends.

Killian reflected wryly that in a twisted sort of way Neal had done him a favour. With all his secrets now out on the open he was free to embrace the opportunity for a new life he’d found in Storybrooke. Not that there had been anything particularly wrong with the old life, at least since his father had finally left. He’d been a mean old drunk, Brennan Jones, and by the time he’d been forced to flee his creditors for good, stealing a boat from Bristol harbour and melting into the offshore underworld, his sons had been glad to see the back of him. Killian thought about what he himself had been like back then, before Milah, and even though it had only been about a year since he’d first become involved with her so much had changed both in his circumstances and in himself, he feared that hopeful, enthusiastic boy was lost forever. Who exactly had taken his place was the question Killian had asked himself daily for weeks now, and he still wasn’t sure how to answer it. He’d become so used to holding everything in, to keeping such a tight rein on his thoughts and feelings that letting them out, accepting that it was okay to express them had become almost unbelievably difficult. The only person he felt even remotely comfortable being fully himself with aside from Liam was Emma, whose support and friendship remained unwavering as he bumbled and struggled thorough the reclamation of his life, and he remained intensely grateful for it.

Only one thing about Emma troubled him-- that she no longer seemed to be interested in anything beyond his friendship. All the little hints and cues she had been giving him since they’d met were suddenly gone, and while he was relieved to be free of the added stress of constantly resisting something that part of him desperately wanted, he couldn’t help wondering if there was a darker motivation for this abrupt about-face. Perhaps, whispered an evil little voice in his head, Emma was actually more disgusted by his past than she let on and was simply too kind to tell him directly. Maybe the thought of him touching her turned her stomach now. He certainly couldn’t blame her if it did.

“What do you want from your relationship with Emma?” asked Dr Hopper one afternoon, after Killian had finally brought himself to mention the change in her behaviour. “Do you want it to be romantic?”

Killian frowned, struggling to sort through the complex tangle of his feelings about and for Emma. “I don’t want a romantic relationship with anyone,” he said finally. “I still feel too messed up for anything like that. But I— I’m still really attracted to her. I think about her all the time, about how we kissed at her party, and I want to kiss her again pretty much constantly, but then I remember Milah and how I thought I felt about her, and I just—”

“You don’t trust your judgement.”

“Yeah.”

“Killian, it’s important for you to remember that you have a much more equal relationship with Emma than you ever did with Milah.”

“Equal, with Emma?” Killian snorted. “You have met her, right?”

Dr Hopper smiled patiently. “I understand that you feel she’s beyond your reach, and that’s a separate issue, but what I mean by equal is that she’s your age and at your stage of life. With Milah you were constantly struggling to relate to her life and her experiences, and when you couldn’t you attempted to make up for that by offering her the affection and sexual attention she craved. You forced yourself to offer these things even though you didn’t genuinely feel them because you feared the consequences of not offering them. But with Emma there is no need to manufacture anything. She is placing no demands on you and therefore any attraction and affection you feel for her is genuine.”

“But what should I do about it?”

“Why should you have to do anything? You said you’re not ready for a romantic relationship, and that’s fine. Let yourself heal. The process is slow and frustrating, but believe me you are making progress. Let your feelings for Emma and your relationship with her develop at a pace that is comfortable for you. From what you’ve said it sounds like she will still be there when, if, you’re ready for more.”

“It’s more than likely she no longer wants more. And even if she did, what happens when she meets someone who isn’t so hopelessly fucked up? Then where does that leave me?”

“Why don’t you worry about that if —not when— it happens?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the last day before winter break, Emma nervously approached Killian’s locker and handed him an invitation to her parents’ annual Christmas party addressed to him and Liam.

“It’s just a thing they do every year for their friends and our neighbours,” she began to ramble as he examined the card, certain he would refuse and wanting to delay that painful moment. “My mom loves to entertain, and my dad says it’s good for building a rapport between law enforcement and the community, and—”

“Swan,” interrupted Killian, giving her that soft, indulgent look that said he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I’m sure we’d love to attend. Thank you for inviting us.”

The butterflies soared in a grand jeté, and she felt like she was flying with them. “Great,” she said trying to keep her voice calm, “I guess I’ll see you then.”

Her delighted smile made his breath catch, and his answering grin set her heart galloping. Their eyes met and held, and as the end of semester chaos whirled around them they stood a breath apart, swathed in frustrated yearning and brittle tension, the only two people in the world.

Then the final bell rang, and they leapt apart, Emma smoothing her skirt with shaking hands while Killian ran his own trembling fingers through his hair.

“So, onion rings at Granny’s?” ventured Emma, wanting to kick herself for making him nervous again, after all her resolutions, hoping desperately he wouldn’t pull away.

Killian sighed in relief, tinged with a hint of disappointment. Granny’s was safe. “Sounds perfect, love,�� he said.

#cs au ff #high school au #teenage captain swan #captain duckling #lieutenant duckling #another brick in the wall #profdanglaisstuff

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