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jeojahari · 3 years

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03 | kiss it better | myg

🠒 summary: you're one of the lucky ones, everyone else tells you. finding your soulmate the day you turn 18 isn't something that happens to a lot of people... but you and your other half are going to have to make a lot of progress to be able to tolerate each other.

or, you and yoongi can feel everything the other feels, and you're hell bent on causing each other pain.

🠒 pairing: yoongi x reader

🠒 genre: angst, fluff, e2l!au, soulmates!au, college au, crack?

🠒 warnings: profanity, implied smut

🠒 word count: 1.9K

🠒 notes: Y'ALL i can't with you guys thank you so much oh my gosh 🥺❤️❤️ thank you so much for sticking with this! *is very honored and touched* hope you enjoy this chapter :D

also! from here on out i'm going to start putting in parts from yoongi's pov too so y'all can get an idea of what's going on in his head c:

also, just a little shout out to an anon whom i got a very comforting, uplifting message from... thank you so much anon! this part is going to be last-minute dedicated to you ❤️❤️

part 03: three roses

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Yoongi’s only met you two days ago, and yet he can’t get you off his mind.

“It’s probably just a soulmate thing,” his roommate tells him, typing away at his laptop — the paper is due in half an hour, and he is rushing to get it done. Procrastination has time and again proven to be a horrible habit, but he never does let go of it.. “Regardless of how you feel about her, the universe decides who you’re stuck with.”

“It’s not like that, Jin,” Yoongi groans. “I’m not saying I don’t ever want to be with her. I’m saying it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot, if she would just let it happen.”

Jin spins around on his chair, giving his friend a curious look. “What did you even say the first time you met her that made her hate you this much?”

“I, um.” Yoongi shifts around, suddenly aware of how cold he must have seemed to you that day, way before you turned eighteen and knew what the future was to hold. “Told her not to waste oxygen. And left.”

“Wow. So in a nutshell, you fucked up.”

“I did.”

“And she hates you for being an antisocial grump.”

“I’m not! But yes, she does.”

Jin proceeds to take another sip from his mug of (now cold) tea, deep in thought. “You gonna tell me who the mystery girl is?”

“Park Y/N,” Yoongi winces as he says your name, not liking the way it easily rolls off his tongue, or the kaleidoscope of butterflies it sets off in his stomach — or the way his heart seems to skip a beat at the thought of you. He doesn’t want it to, but what can he do? “You know, the one who rooms with Park Jimin from the arts department. They’re not related, though.”

“The Y/N who has an impossibly obvious crush on Jimin’s cousin? Taehyung, right?”

Yoongi chuckles, staring at the blank white wall. “I’m pretty sure there’s only one Y/N in this entire school, but yes. That’s her.”

“So you two don’t get along and she has a thing for another guy. Man, the universe really fucked up, didn’t it?”

“And you’re not helping right now,” Yoongi scoffs, scribbling down another abstract equation on his paper. “The goal is not to make her fall in love with me, dumbass.”

“But that’s precisely what the goal is! She falls in love with you, you date, get married, have kids, you know the deal. Happily ever after.”

“I think you’re forgetting the part about me not liking her at all.”

“That can change, can’t it?” Jin swivels around in his chair, eyes wide and hopeful. “What’s stopping you from falling head over heels for her a week or so from now? You two are already bound; it can’t be that hard.”

Yoongi presses his pen to the paper again, but a sharp stinging sensation makes him flinch backwards, curling his index finger inward. “Stupid,” he mutters, wincing. “Y/N seriously has a thing for giving herself paper cuts on the daily.”

“See?” Jin grins widely, feeling very accomplished for no reason at all. “You’re already worried about her well-being!”

“The only reason I even care is because I feel it too!” Seconds later, another twinge of pain comes, this time shooting through his head. “Ow,” he groans, frustrated. “Really? Are we seriously going back to this now? What’s she doing this time, banging her head on the wall to get on my nerves?”

Jin drains the rest of tea in one gulp, side-eyeing the shorter male from his spot at the desk. “Figure it out, my guy,” he says under his breath. Whether he likes it or not, he’s concerned about his friend — though he knows that if he brings it up, Yoongi’s only going to chide him for being so worried. “Second chances don’t come often. Don’t screw this one up.”

The study group meets again (is this a daily thing now?), and much to Yoongi’s surprise, you’re there without fail, squeezed in between Jimin and another guy he doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. As Taehyung grabs his hand and yanks him down onto the bench, he notices the slightly pissed off glare you send him, too tired to return one of his own.

No one speaks, and it’s strange. It’s awfully awkward; usually Taehyung and Jungkook would be arguing over something stupid, and there would be yelling… but now, there is only complete silence, save for the rustling of pages and the occasional cough from Namjoon.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispers from his left after a few minutes, nudging his elbow as a greeting. “How come you’re not sitting with Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“Aren’t you two supposed to be together?” Ah, right. Once again, Yoongi curses fate’s horrible decision making skills, sending another why me? plea to the heavens.

“It’s fine,” he brushes it off instead, sorting through his books. He’s trying not to look like it affects him, but he’s always been rather terrible at hiding his frustration. “She has Jimin and that other dude anyways.”

Jungkook doesn’t look convinced. In fact, he sees right through the half-hearted lie. “You want to sit next to her,” he deduces quickly. “But you’re not. You two fought or something?”

“What would you know,” Yoongi mutters, irritated. “Of all people.”

Jungkook frowns slightly, but the merry twinkle doesn’t leave his eyes, the trademark of a person who’s just happy to live life. “What do you mean? I’m very experienced in these things, I’ll have you know.”

“Right, because fucking a different girl each night is your way of showing off your expertise.”

“Yoongi, I’m trying to help you. You two aren’t the best at covering up; we know you hate each other’s guts,” he sighs. “You need to talk to her, patch it up, do something—”

“Shut up,” Yoongi snaps sharply, thoughts distorted. His cantankerous mood is rising now, only worsening with every word he hears. “Shut up, Jungkook. You don’t fucking know anything.” His voice is loud enough to catch the attention of everyone else at the table, and he’s well aware of your worried eyes on him. “Stop trying to educate me on this bullshit called romance when all you fucking do is sleep around!”

The weight of his words hit Jungkook hard, and it’s written all over his face, shock and something like sorrow in his expression. Yoongi regrets it as soon as he says it, immediately wishing he could take it all back — but he doesn’t, because the anger, the pain, the empty, hollow feeling of having his soulmate near but unable to love her… it’s eating away at him.

Then he hears your voice, soft and gentle in contrast to his own, and it almost grounds him, calms the storm inside his head. Almost, except for the fact that your words are just as harsh, stinging him far more than expected. “You’re such an asshole,” you say, giving him nothing but a stare he can’t comprehend.

“Y/N—”

“Jungkook can do what he wants; he’s an adult and he’s not harming anyone. His actions do not justify yours,” you spit, the resent clear in the way you speak to him.

Have you always hated him so much?

“And neither of us have been particularly great about this, but you had no right to say that to him,” you continue, glowering. The rest of the table just sits there as you talk, still processing what just happened. “You fucking jerk.”

There’s a lot Yoongi wants to say to you. Explain. Redeem himself. Apologize, maybe, if you’ll let him — but he knows you won’t. It’s one of the things he’s picked up on in two days; you won’t listen to reason when you’re pissed off, and right now you’re certainly in no position to hear him out.

“Okay,” he mutters instead, rising from his seat and earning a worried look from Taehyung. He gives you one last look before he forces himself to look away, your heated gaze burning into him. “I’ll leave first, then.”

Jungkook left almost immediately after, and the rest of the group quickly followed suit. Now, you’re cozied up on the couch with a cup of green tea while Jimin works on what he couldn’t finish earlier, sitting beside you.

“Well,” he breaks the silence. “At least now you know that he’s somewhat invested in whatever’s between you two, if Jungkook was trying to give him advice.”

“That’s just Jungkook being invested,” you grumble. “Not Yoongi. The guy doesn’t even look like he cares.”

“Do you?”

The question makes you stop and think. Do you? Do you care enough to try? Growing up, you’d so strongly believed that love was only ever a temporary thing; it never stayed long enough to blossom into something beautiful the way it was portrayed in the media. You had always been surrounded by the dark side of this seemingly magical emotion, listening to your mother’s crying late at night when she thought you were asleep, to the point where you’d sworn it off.

But something in you wants to question it. You want to shatter that ominous what if, throw off the shadows of your own childhood and grow into something more, be able to experience the magic firsthand.

And really, Yoongi’s a fucking asshole and you’re still mad at him. But one day… maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. Give him a try, a chance.

Still, it’s a “no” that you answer Jimin with, lying through your teeth. He doesn’t say anything, just humming a single note in response, his right hand doodling something mindlessly on your skin with one of his black ink pens. When he pulls away a minute later, there are three dainty roses resting in the valley between your thumb and index finger, clustered together in a bunch.

You hate roses. They do nothing but remind you of the one thing that hurt you the most.

“You know,” he says after a while, “I think you’re being a bit childish about this whole thing. Y/N, you two are acting like you’re in some kind of high school drama. You say you don’t like him, but for what? His coffee addiction and his personality?”

“You’re just making it sound worse than it really is…”

“No,” he presses, turning to face you directly. “I’m serious. You’re my best friend and I want to see you happy. Not you screwing this all up. People have differences, it’s normal.”

“It’s not about that—”

Jimin takes your hand, tapping it twice and then rapping his knuckles against the side of your head. “Y/N, you wonderful idiot. You don’t hate him. You’re just desperately searching for reasons to hate him.” His eyes soften. “I know you don’t like this because of how your parents ended up, but not everyone's the same. You don’t have anything to be afraid of.”

“I—” You stop for a second, a bit on edge. “I don’t like this, Jimin,” you say truthfully. You’ve always known it was bound to happen someday, but… the way your heart races around Yoongi and aches when he’s away both bothers and excites you, afraid at the prospect of more but still tempted to see what the future holds. And you can’t decide on either one.

“There you go. What were you waiting for?” he laughs, bringing you in for a comforting hug. “Now you’ve just got to do something about it.”

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#yoongi #yoongi soulmate au #yoongi enemies to lovers #yoongi college au #bts #bts fanfiction #bts college au #bts soulmate au #bts enemies to lovers #fluff #angst #crack?? idk #yoongi series #mine #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #part 3

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

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𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞

Chapter 1: You Were My Town

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: Dark!Steve Rogers (in future chapters) x Reader

Word Count: 2,061

Summary: Steve Rogers; a Hollywood A-lister and your clandestine occasional hookup. Best friends since childhood, but people change and friendships fall out. Now you were merely strangers with benefits. What happens when one day you stopped being his doormat to be a better man’s queen? The selfish Steve Rogers would not like it. How far is he willing to go to get his favorite possession back?

Warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, dark Steve (in later chapter), angst, Steve Rogers is an asshole in this one, no redeeming qualities. (MUST BE 18+)

A/N: first chapter is finally here!! this series is dedicated to the lovely @belovedcherry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for being a friend when i truly needed it. i’m really glad that you trusted me to write this story for you. with all my heart, i sincerely hope you like it. this series will be updated everyday, there will be 4 more chapters ahead.

PICTURE EXCLUSIVE: New Couple Alert! Steve Rogers and a blondie bombshell can’t keep their hands off each other! The headline verbalized.

The notorious heartthrob was spotted leaving The Ritz-Calton Hotel in Los Angeles around 2 AM with Spanish model, Alondra Ondiviela, 28, who looked stunning in a salmon sports bra and black overall, as she walked hand-in-hand with Dusk and Dawn star, Steve Rogers.

Steve Rogers was last linked to Blade in Deep actress, Anne Amorós back in early spring this year but had reportedly split after only two months dating.

Steve Rogers has been previously linked to many gorgeous models in the past, earning him the infamous title of ‘Hollywood’s favourite ladykiller.’ Will Alondra Ondiviela be the one to finally make Steve Rogers settle down and give up his womanizer ways? Placing our bets on how long this couple is going to last!

You closed the tab on your browser as you sighed defeatedly on your couch. You laid your head back on the headrest as you shut your eyes and folded your arms against your chest. Just how many more gossip articles can you endure?

Steve Rogers was your childhood best friend and… Perhaps the only man you had ever truly loved. You knew it was nothing but sheer naivety for you to concede that. You knew it was cruel and inequitable to your heart, but, you still held on to that tiny glimpse of hope that someday, things will change. He will change. Despite all the shit he had put you through, you couldn’t abnegate yourself from him. He always lured you back in with his sweet words and sinful lips whenever you try to expel him from your door.

It wasn’t always like this. Back in kindergarten, Steve used to be this good, shy, scrawny kid who had a blistering passion for art. He was always very twitterpated by watching live shows on stage. When you were kids, Steve would try to sneak both of you into the theatre when the lights were out. Steve didn’t grow up in a very lucky family. His abusive father abandoned his mother when he was only four years old, and since then, his mom had been working tirelessly to keep a roof over their heads and fill in their fridge with food.

You, on the other hand, were a little luckier than him. Your parents had decent jobs that paid the bills well enough to survive. Whenever Steve was short in cash, you would always offer him a little bit of your pocket money or your meal. You would even offer to buy tickets for both of you so you didn’t have to sneak in and could actually get good seats. But he would always say, “well, where’s the fun in that?”

So you’d drop the topic and go along with whatever deceitful ways he had in mind. After all, he was your best friend and you trusted him. You’d rather choose the thrill of bootleg games than waiting ten minutes early before the show starts anyway. But you remember it vividly under the aura of those stage lightings and when the actors were personifying in their larger-than-life costumes, he would be so mesmerized by the show before him that sometimes he wouldn’t even say a word to you at all until it was over.

Before you went home, he and you would walk to the nearest burger place, where you would eat under the polychromatic neon sign and he would tell you, “someday, I’m going to my face on the big screen or one of those giant stages and I would make my mom proud!” he cheered. And you’d always encourage him, “…and I’ll be there to watch and clap for you in the audience.”

Rest in peace, to your naïve bravado… Little did you know, his dream was going to be your doom.

You remained closed friends as you grew up; going to the same school, sharing a few classes together, until, in high school, things began to change. He began to join auditions and taking art classes and extracurriculars. He became busier and busier every day to the point where he could only hang out with you on the weekends. That is when he absolutely had no rehearsals or he wasn’t too worn out from a week full of activities.

You also noticed the different manner and shift of inflexion when you two hung out. All he would talk about is the ‘clique’ of popular boys in school had asked him to sit with them at lunch and how the popular girls would start preening at him when he walked down the hallway. It was as if by partaking in these arts clubs, it gave him a VIP member card to get access into sitting with at exclusive spots and it upgraded his status.

He changed his looks as well, by going to the gym more often and eating more so that he would gain some muscles. He began dressing like one of those jocks and he would begin throwing in some flirtatious comments to those popular girls when they were around.

Eventually, he and you began to grow apart. It got worse when he started dating one of the popular girls, Janet, and he would ditch you even on weekends despite all the plans you had made weeks prior.

“I can’t hang out today, y/n. Janet’s parents are out of town and I think we are going to hook up in her giant pool!”

“But what about the movie that we planned to see together today? I thought you had been anticipating for it since a year ago?”

“I know, but can we just postpone it? It’s not like they are going to take it out tomorrow! We could still see it next weekend.”

“Well, we’ve bought the tickets, Steve.”

“Ah, shit, alright, I’ll just pay back the money, okay? How much are those tickets?”

“No, it’s fine, Steve. Don’t worry about it.”

“Really? You sure, y/n?”

“Yeah, I’ll just ask my mom or maybe Wanda to go see it with me. Don’t want those spoilers on the internet ruining it for me.” You chuckled hollowly. Disappointment filled up your heart but you pretended like it was alright, anyway. If Steve wanted to spend time with his girlfriend then, you had no right to stop him and force him to hang out with you.

“Ah, got it. Thanks, y/n. You’re the best!” and then the frozen seconds on the screen showed that he had ended the call.

The phone calls and text messages began to dwindle. You would often try to text or call him first but it would go to voicemail and or you would be left on read. When you were at school, Steve completely stopped hanging around you. He would rather be with his new ‘friends’ now. And he was too occupied with making out with Janet to notice you as you both walk past each other in the hall.

Wanda was your most trusted confidant and she knew about all the feelings you caged inside you for Steve. She would always be there for you when you cry over him and she would always encourage you to move on and stop trying to reach him. “You deserve so much better than this, y/n. Why would you ruin yourself for an asshole like him?”

Curse your adamant heart for refusing to listen to Wanda and take her advice. In the bottom of your heart, you knew that Wanda was right. You deserved so much better than what Steve had turned you into. You used to be this bright-eyed, rose-coloured heart person who saw your future in a radiant lustre. You were always drawn to helping people out. You used to think that maybe you’d end up being a nurse or a school counsellor, but as you grew older, gradually, you realized that there is far way more pernicious malady than physical ones.

Like the wound in your heart that Steve keeps tapping on every time he acts like he didn’t know you or he left another call or text unanswered. Every time he posted pictures of him and Janet, or him and ‘the boys’ who would walk around the school as they owned it. You had always dreaded those boys. You knew they were bad news and you didn’t want to be associated with them under any circumstances. You and Steve used to make fun of them, how much of a loser they are and how negligent they are toward their grades. But who would’ve known that Steve would turn into his own worst abomination?

Eventually, like all good (and bad) things, they must come to an end. You graduated with a 3.8 GPA and you were proud of yourself for all those times you spent being at home to do your homework and study until around 2 AM.

You were happy; you were satisfied with your grades, your parents were there, cheering for you in the audience and taking countless pictures of you when you walked on stage, and you could finally move forward to the next stage of your life. But something was missing.

“Gosh, I can’t wait to finally graduate.” He scanned the paper with a mark that mocked him in big bold red as he sat at the edge of your twin-sized bed. You had just returned from school and you had received the result of your Math tests. You luckily got a B+ but clearly, Steve didn’t acquire the same latter.

“C’mon, it’s just one bad test. It doesn’t mean that your life is over.”

“I know but, I don’t like seeing a C+ on my test, y/n. It makes me feel inadequate. Besides, I need a solid 3.7 GPA in order to get into NYU. Otherwise, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Stop being so dramatic, you still have what it takes. You just need to do a lot better in the next one.”

“Yeah, I’m really gonna have to work my ass off though. Math has never been my strongest suit.”

“Neither it’s mine, but you know what? Someday we’ll wear our graduation hat and this wouldn’t even matter. You’d probably forget that you’ve ever had a C in your high school year.”

You recalled those times where Steve would endlessly talk about graduating and what would happen when both of you go on separate ways. He would tell you “don’t be silly. We’ll always be best friends even if we go to different universities. It’s not like we don’t have a phone, y/n.”

You always imagined that on your graduation day, you both would celebrate it together but of course, those dreams have long perished. Steve didn’t even have a smile on his face when your name was being announced.

He was supposed to be there, standing right next to you and engulf you in a warm, giant hug. The one that he used to give on your birthdays. But no, now, you could only watch him from several feet away farther than you both used to be. You could only hear his echoing laugh as he high-fived the boys and twirl Janet around up in the air like the happy ending in your favourite Rom-Com movies.

That should be me. Your heart cry mourned for the memories and the fractured promises. It was like there was this colossal fortress between the two of you and while you were fighting to climb it to reach him, he, on the other hand, didn’t even have the patience to wait for you.

It’s okay though. At least you had your parents and Wanda and her parents and twin brother, Pietro who adorned this special day distracting you away from the anguish of missing Steve. You were going to spend this entire day with the people who truly loved you and you loved just as equal before you had to leave for the new phases of your own lives.

You will finally move to your college dorm, have yourself a roommate, and invest your time and energy in something that you knew you were always meant to do and it excites you that your journey of helping people will start soon.

And Steve Rogers will be nothing but a consigned to oblivion memory that will sink like a battleship beneath the waves.

At least for now.

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babblingblondegenius · 5 years

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Felicity Megan Smoak-Queen rules the roost aka the Queen residence

We been knew that Oliver will do anything she says and William should know by now who runs the world (or will, once she gets Smoak Tech launched). EPISODE SPOILERS AND SPOILER-ISH SPECULATION AHEAD...

There’s an old saying ‘If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy!’ and clearly having had Moira Queen as a mother, Oliver knows this well. So when mama Felicity says no pancakes until we talk, there will be no pancakes. In the interest of full disclosure, it took a while for William to grow on me. I blame the writers (for more than I could ever possibly write about but let’s focus on William right now). But tonight I was #TeamWilliam. As much as it hurts him to hear, Oliver needs to know how his decisions have affected and do affect his family. He is so worried about redeeming himself to the team and the city but he needed to start with his wife and son. So I truly appreciate that they gave William a voice.

William not only used that voice to call out Oliver but to call his grandparents. I don’t believe William did that to lash out at Oliver (okay, maybe a little) but to regain control. William didn’t have a say when Oliver sent him away in season 4. William didn’t have a say when Samantha died and Oliver assumed custody in season 5. William didn’t have a say when Oliver cut a deal with the FBI at the end of season 6. Felicity had talked to William about the realities of this life and fallibility of Oliver Queen. Felicity, more than anyone, knows that Oliver defaults to making decisions alone and isn’t always forthcoming with the truth. Felicity chose to leave when Oliver didn’t tell her about William and didn’t include her in his decision to send him away forever. Felicity chose to stay even though Oliver didn’t tell her about the sacrifice he made for the team. And as Felicity knows well and William has learned, loving Oliver Queen isn’t always easy.

Of course in true Arrow fashion, the timing is bizarre. William lived with Oliver (and then Oliver and Felicity once they were married) for all of season 6. Their apartment was shot to smithereens during dinner. Oliver outed himself as GA, went to prison for what was supposed to be a life sentence, and William went with Felicity into witness protection, where they were attacked. Instead of going to live with his grandparents, he is sent off to boarding school. Last episode, he was pissed at Felicity for that decision and now one episode later, he decides he wants to have a normal life?!? Kiddo, that’s not possible with these two. :/

One of the best parts of the episode was Oliver defending Felicity to William’s grandparents. Felicity has cared for and treated William as her son. She was willing to die fighting Diaz to protect him. She has loved and nurtured him and I’m very glad that Oliver recognizes that. And I think William does too.

I’m a fan of horror movies so I was really looking forward to seeing Stan terrorize the team. Except I wasn’t nervous or on the edge of my seat like I should have been. I was bored because the flash-forwards have sucked all the suspense out of the show. TBH I probably wouldn’t have really cared when DD got her throat slit regardless but I already knew she wasn’t going to die. I thought they might kill Curtis so I was just confused when it didn’t happen. I am a little concerned how much I related to Stan. He was wielding a knife but dropping some major truth bombs about NTA to Oliver. They aren’t your friends and you shouldn’t trust them. Preach it Stan. So while I loved Oliver, Felicity, and William working as a team to take down Stan without anyone else’s help, it kinda sucks Stan isn’t the big bad and it looks like Diaz is back next week. Yawn, no surprises there.

Arrow did drop a couple of ‘surprises’ tonight, if things the fandom has known for months count as surprises lol. The first surprise was Arrow letting Curtis live. I’m okay with it since he did me a solid before he left and gave Felicity his part of Helix so she is now free and clear to establish Smoak Tech. #finally!!!! The second surprise is that Felicity is pregnant / Mia is Olicity’s daughter. The Olicity baby is on her way. This has been a long time coming....

...especially for Oliver. Oliver may have been conflicted about his dual identity way back when but he knew if he ever let himself have a life beyond the mask, that life would be with Felicity and their own genius ninja babies.

However, since we have barely seen Oliver look at Felicity onscreen since winter hiatus, I’m gonna need the writers to provide proof of the conception. ;) #theonlytimeflashbacksareacceptable

These are both huge developments in Felicity’s life and both will be part of her legacy. I am keeping my fingers crossed (and expectations low lol) that the writers will show Felicity being a kick-ass mother-to-be as Overwatch and the future CEO of Smoak Tech. There is no doubt in my mind that she can do it all. I’m just terrified after the last two episodes where she has been overlooked for her contributions, not deputized and completely separated from the team that the pregnancy just gives them more reason to sideline her. I hope I’m wrong.

I also hope I’m wrong about the very bleak picture that the flash-forwards are painting for Olicity. It seems they are estranged from both their children. The fact that Mia asked if William had dated Felicity means Felicity is single and that means that Oliver is dead. It appears at this point that Oliver will be Oliver and sacrifice himself in the season 8 crossover which is right around the time when Mia will be due (talk about angst on top of angst) and Felicity will have to raise Mia alone. Arrow asked a question in season 6 that I thought we got an answer to when Oliver went to prison.

But this scene wasn’t talking about prison, even a life sentence. It was talking about a more permanent removal of Oliver from their lives. What happens to Felicity Smoak without Oliver Queen? I think Arrow intends to answer that question in the upcoming episodes. Clearly, a world without Oliver is a dark dystopia but I believe Felicity will honor the dead by fighting, continuing the mission that Oliver began and trying to help the city as best she can. Oliver is the love of her life; she has been in love with him from the start and she will honor his legacy until the end. For the record, I’m not waxing poetic about this speculation. I want Olicity to have the happy-ever-after they deserve. After seven years of investment in this journey, I hate the thought of Oliver dying so young and never getting to live the life he so desperately wanted. I hate the thought of Felicity feeling scared and alone like she did in witness protection, only there is no reprieve.

Nope. Not freaking acceptable. Give these two their own version of the Queen mansion; Olicity raising their kids in a happy and loving home; in a city that has recognized them as heroes and is safer because of them; Felicity running her tech empire, and Oliver cooking for his family and doing whatever makes him happy and fulfilled. Let our heroes live long lives to see the fruits of their labor and the difference their sacrifices made. <3

As always, thank you to the fandom’s amazing gifmakers! :) 6x11 gif credit: Felicity Smoak gifs and 6x18 gif credit: M-Art Revenge

#long post #longer than expected #and not as ranty #the thought of smoak tech and the olicity baby has dulled my anger lol #arrow spoilers #arrow speculation #olicity spoilers

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courtorderedcake · 6 years

Text

LIMBO 2/3

I’m per usual, late. But, I had this queued up originally and it didn’t go through so I made a pretty art thing so I didn’t kill someone. Yay.

Here is my first finished big piece for @cssns, a dark and gritty romance with heavy CaptainSwan, FrozenJewel and ScarletBelle themes. The second part will be posted later today, and the third late this evening. I have 2 more MCs to present and then I am blessedly finished.

Will Scarlet is dead, stuck in a plane of existence where all redeemable souls with unfinished business end up. Each soul is assigned a Guardian: A guide to help them navigate The Realm of the Living and to avoid pitfalls there. To Will’s great displeasure he is assigned the mirthless Emma Swan, who’s indifference to his pain infuriates him - until he finds that she harbors her own. Rated: M TW: Child death, Death in general, Angst with a… intrepretation of a happy ending? Idk, just be warned, don’t read this. I’m the Lemony Snicket of fic writers, look away.

Killian was vaguely aware that something was very amiss, if not downright wrong.

His last clear memories were celebrating his new position, one he’d painstakingly worked for years to achieve, his friends around him and Emma by his side. He had refused to drink at his own party, much to his friends’ consternation, but he wanted to remember everything about this night, every detail. Hopefully it was the last night Emma Swan would go without knowing she was to be Emma Swan-Jones in his ideal future. That is, if she’d accept, which with the way she had rested her head on his shoulder he was pretty sure wasn’t an issue.

“Things are good,” she’d whispered, leaning across the passenger side of their car to kiss him.

“Things are only going to get better.” He grinned and she laughed, poking him under the armpit, his body jerking. “Oi, that’s enough of that, now -”

“Tall orders, ‘only better’. Are you sure you can live up to that promise?” Her eyes had gotten darker, and he felt his mouth go dry.

“I am up for the challenge.”

“Then hurry home, sally forth, and all that - I have a present for you that you couldn’t unwrap here.” Her voice had gone husky and Killian felt for sure his pants were suddenly too tight.

They were driving home when Emma had screamed, he thought it was prank at first, but the lights were bright and they were right in their windshield as pain enveloped him. The roof of their car buckled as they rolled, he felt the crack against his skull and for a moment things went black. He could still hear, sounds of the crunch of metal and her strangled cry, and then his head throbbed, bringing back sight; gazing out, lights flashed into the dim. The back of his skull felt so wet and warm, and the top of his head was dripping as he tried to inventory his surroundings. They'd come to a stop at an angle and he'd noticed hazy smoke filling the car, Emma slumped forward with glass across her face. He dizzily noted how pretty it was in the light. Confused revulsion came next.

He unbuckled himself, surprised that the device still worked, and marveling at how squishy the air bag was, before trying to focus as spots spun in front of him. His brain felt wrong and infantile as he narrowed his thoughts, to come fighting the strange feeling of his body wanting to simply stop, exhaustion creeping up on him. Why couldn't he sleep?

Emma. Get Emma out. One of his arms was useless, a bloody mess he couldn’t get to follow commands. With his good arm, he undid her belt and grabbed under her armpits as well as he could, her head lolling as he dragged her over his seat. She was dragging something under her knee. He gathered her body close, and with sudden clarity understood as he touched her shattered kneecap - Her leg that had been bent in the passenger’s seat was crushed completely. Even through his stunted brain he knew this was bad.

Stumbling back, everything spinning, they fell to the cold asphalt. He saw Emma’s eyes open as what he realized was his scalp flopped over, his hand reaching up to touch wet bone. She reached for him as his vision burned away to darkness, his hand meeting hers the last touch he felt.

When Killian came to, he was alone in a hospital room sitting in a chair, noise filling the empty space. Part of his brain registered that this was eerily strange, unable to rationalize while the other soothed, calming him. This was normal. Things will make sense, everything will be fine.

Emma.

He stood, bare feet cold on the tiled floor. Beeps, whirrs, whispered voices and footsteps swirled around him although he was alone. If he focused, he could make out misty forms of people, like a flickering projector. Nurses roamed the halls, he could see their brightly colored scrubs now, the forms becoming clearer. Rubbing his eyes, he saw another chair next to the hospital bed where Liam sat, head in his hands.

He heard Liam’s sobs and apologies, how he should have given him the ring for Emma.

Bloody well right you should have, you great dolt.

Liam didn’t hear, and he only came back angrier. He talked about working extra hours, about how this was Emma’s fault, about incompetent staff and bad tea. Killian began to pace, the strange peace he had once felt fading. What was Emma’s fault? Certainly not this, whatever this was. Emma would never.

David’s voice. Asking if Liam was coming to the funeral, Liam telling him to get out. Killian raged in unheard fury, he was going to punch that bloody git in the face for talking to his brother-in-law like that - er. His almost brother-in-law. David had left and Killian caught a glimpse of him, his hair unkempt and eyes red rimmed. Who had died? David only had very little family, and Emma… He’d know if Emma was hurt. He felt a pang of uncertainty, the strangeness of his situation breaking through. Liam flickered in and out, standing and pacing, cursing under his breath.

“Why did you choose her? Why did you let her do this to you brother?” Liam slammed his fist into a cabinet, flickering out as his cries echoed in the room.

What is happening to me? Where am I?

Emma finally came to see him after he felt like he’d been there for months, wandering through the empty hospital when his room was quiet. He’d thought he may have heard her voice before, but like tuning for a frequency on a radio, he could never make out her words. He snapped back to his room the minute her words were in his ears. He couldn’t see her as well as his brother, falling to his knees in front of her. She laid across the hospital bed, unaware of his presence.

“Hi, babe.”

Emma, where have you been? Gods above, I’ve been worried sick about you, you’ve had me-

He could hear her voice hitch, and the small sniff of her nose.

Why are you about to cry, love?

“I don’t know if you can hear me -”

Of course I can, sweet, I’m right here, it’s alright —

“I just… I’m so scared and I miss you so much. I keep having dreams about the accident now that I can remember, I can remember you pulling me out. I wish you would wa-”

Her voice fizzled out as her shimmering form snuffed out like a candle. Killian desperately tried to... looking for her, looking for anywhere her voice would ring louder, or to find her strange smoky silhouette. He had no such luck. The strangeness of his new realm was now overwhelming, his inability to speak to anyone or get acknowledged maddening. A woman named Elsa whispered secrets about women he’d never met, and another woman named Ariel hummed softly filling the room in soothing music. He liked them.

Someone named Tremaine, and another, Ursula, he didn’t like. He hadn’t felt anything physically but a numbness that reminded him of when his feet fell asleep; when those two flickered into being he felt pain. Killian realized finally that he was somehow outside of his body and something was preventing him from understanding this situation.

Emma came again. He could see her better, his clarity of people and things much clearer as time had passed. Instead of a smoky haze, she was a faded photo negative, a washed out sepia. When he tried to touch her there was no resistance as if she was air.

“I’m supposed to let you go. That’s what Regina says, that I should ‘move on,”

Well, tell ‘Regina’ to bugger right on off then, love.

“And I know that’s what you’d want, you wouldn’t want me to wait for you,”

Whoa now, wait a minute, of course I want you to wait for me, I just need to get ! Move on? Emma, what the bloody hell are you on about woman, are you mad?

“The thing is, I can’t, Killian. Just…” her voice broke and she sobbed, he found himself longing to hold her. “I love you so much. Please, don’t hate me for wanting you.”

I could never hate you Emma, please, don’t cry. It’s alright, I could never tire of you wanting me.

It became a cycle, Liam, Elsa, Ariel and Tremaine with Emma popping up here and there.

Killian began to understand, even if he didn’t want to believe.

“That brother of yours is a real asshat,” Elsa hissed, wearing blue and fiddling with an IV bag. Killian read a magazine left open, enjoying any stimulation he could find. “I hope you can’t hear the bastard.”

You don’t even know. He’s an insufferable stubborn git on his best days.

“If I could move you to another hospital I would. Best in the country, bollocks. Can’t even make a proper cup of tea.” Liam thumbed through a book, sipping out of a styrofoam cup. Killian wished for a moment he could enjoy any cup of anything. He’d started to feel thirst, a strange heat and chill that came without warning, and pain in his abdomen.

Liam, I wish I could move that giant head of yours out of your ass.

“I miss hearing your voice, Killian.” Liam let out a small laugh, rubbing his eyes. “You’d be telling me where to shove it right now.” His voice wavered, eyes becoming watery. “I don’t know how to be without you. You were my balance, my levity. Even during this feud... I’m so sorry, I just wanted you to make the right choices.”

I miss you too Liam. I missed you when you were convinced my happiness was too risky. I just wanted you to be proud of me.

“I wish I could tell you how proud I am of you. I went by your home, I saw your designs and the proposal for the restoration of that frigate. It was… I’m so sorry I ever doubted you.” Liam cried openly, and Killian felt the walls of his reality crumbling slowly. He was pulled, a strong yank of some force he could not fight that sent him spiraling into darkness. A shrill beeping alarm sounded, Liam yelling as footsteps flooded in, a fire filling him with agony. There was a light, and he reached for it, begging for help as he was pulled further and further away.

He woke again to Emma’s gentle cries, the darkness dissipated. He sat in the bed, confused.

“You almost died, and I… I was happy for a moment. I’m so sorry, I just wanted…” Her sobbing was uncontrolled, her shoulders shaking. “I am so selfish, Killian, please wake up. Meet someone else, live your life, have children, please.”

Emma… You wanted me to…?

Killian’s reality crumbled into dust. He had almost died? A force compelled him to look behind him.

Turning to look at the bed, he saw himself, or what was left of himself. Tubes ran through his mouth, his hair was shaved to the scalp, as artificially steady breaths were pumped into his system. His frame was smaller, chest almost concave and bandaged.

Emma, you’re…?

“I just want to see you happy. I don’t want this for you, I want you to live, to open your eyes.”

You’re alive, you’re alive, Emma, you’re alive and we’ll go back home, we’ll go back and everything will be -

“I wish I hadn’t died. I wish you and I had lived the life we deserved.”

No. No, Emma, how can you be - What are you?

“I’ve decided to wait, regardless of anything. I’m not giving up on you. You’re a survivor.” He watched her stroke his body’s face, slender fingers he tried to hold without success. “I’m going to become a Guardian. I’ve already started training, and it will give me more time to visit you. I love you, more than anything.”

She disappeared where he could not follow, leaving him alone in limbo.

Killian began to walk, aimlessly exploring while lost in his thoughts of Liam, Emma, and - surprisingly - his mother. Threading his memories and what he’d heard from stray bits of conversation together, a picture appeared. There had been an accident. Emma had… He struggled to even think about it, but she had died. He had survived, if you could call it that. Chained to a bed by encroaching brain death, his freedom lost to machines holding him in stasis.

A stasis that created this world of watching. Killian was a spectator as his body fought, wondering if he’d live or die as he suffered through infections and experimental treatment.

Liam willed him to live, Emma willed him to live, and Killian… he simply wanted to be heard.

He talked to Emma, answering her and wondering what he’d do if she answered back. She never did. Hearing her voice was enough still. He loosely tried to keep track of time, but he noted the date when she brought a man with her. He’d noticed her appearance changing with sadness, her loose curls pinned tight and her posture going prim. She’d reverted to her walled state, untouchable and unable to be hurt or abandoned.

The man - she’d called him Will - opened the drawer of photographs Liam had hidden away. Killian loved their pictures. He’d taken millions of photos of them, millions more of Emma as he mapped her body in every way possible. One of his favorite rattled in the drawer, a timed picture on a ship he rented, them kissing on the deck standing still with lips pressed together at dusk for what felt like ages.

The resulting photo was gorgeous - a silhouette of them against moving stars and sunset colors. Laying under a blanket they’d talked for hours. She had turned to him, a serious look on her face that at first scared him.

She said with a serious look they needed to talk, and he’d panicked, terrified of what she’d say. The words left her mouth and his heart flip flopped in his chest, until her laughter bubbled over as he hugged her closer.

She’d told him she’d changed her mind - having a baby wouldn’t be so bad.

This Will closed the drawer, and Killian watched as he returned to talk to Emma.

"When I first started coming here, after understanding I'd have to move on, I thought he responded to me. I thought," she looked up and swiped at her eyes and cheeks, "I thought he could hear me and I was some savior that would bring him back to me.”

Oh, my sweet Swan. I do hear you. I’ve never left you, and you’ve never left me.

“I wanted, sometimes I still want..." she let out a sob and looked at the plug near him where wires ended in thick black plugs.

In some ways he wished she would unplug him.

He watched as Liam trashed Emma again and again, his brother’s pain pinpointed into hatred for someone who couldn’t defend herself. Emma, in her grace, pushed Liam together with his nurse, and Killian watched his brother’s hatred melt away into love, a man Killian had never seen emerging from his pain.

Their pictures went back up, Killian marveling at Emma and his smiling face out in the open again. Emma always lingered near one he knew was her favorite, autumn leaves bright as they laughed.

They stood next to each other, one unaware of the other. He ached. Even after she left he ached, the ache turning into worse pain. Another nurse came in, finding the problem. Tremaine had left a bandage unchanged.

Emma stayed with him as pain continued to return, and his nurses fought to keep him stable. She murmured about staying too long, and he watched her move like clockwork making sure things were in order. For the first time in ages, she flickered. Days went by and she continued to fade, staying longer with him.

She disappeared shortly after, Liam gone as well. It was quiet, the nurses’ footsteps and scratched pen to clipboard the only noises he heard. His body began to burn. The familiar feeling of infection running wild through him, but somehow worse. The familiar snap back into darkness was an unwelcome guest, his veins made of fire that lit to an inferno. Machines began to beat off the chart, the familiar light showing up in his peripheral.

He heard Liam’s yells, and then there was brightness, brightness that blinded him and dazzled his eyes, pain taken away in an instant of light flowing through him.

When he blinked, he sat before a smiling man in a tweed suit, a cricket pin on his lapel.

“Hello Mr. Jones. Welcome.”

“What - I died?”

The man blinked, scratching his ginger hair and adjusting his glasses. “Well, um, yes. Most people don’t remember -”

“I need to find someone. I think she’s here, I -”

“Mr. Jones, calm down if you will, please. We have to talk about -”

“I don’t give a damn, I need to find her, I need to find her now!”

“Mr. Jones, that’s not how things work, there’s rules and procedures -”

“What part of ‘I do not give a damn’ did you not understand, mate?” Killian’s voice rose and the man cowered slightly. A door behind him flew open, Killian turning with his jaw set.

“Oi! What’s this then, trouble, Hopper? Listen here -” Recognition crossed both the faces of Killian and the man before him, sudden understanding blinking into existence. “You!”

Killian actually laughed, a grin starting on his face. “My reputation precedes me, I see. Will. Finally I get to say hello.” Will glanced down, and when he looked up gave him an uneasy look. “Where is she?”

Turning to the man still clinging to his chair, Will nodded towards Killian. “Hopper, uh, this is… This is Emma’s…”

Hopper’s face paled more, his lips pulling down. “Oh no.”

Killian repeated himself, anxiety rising in his chest. “Where is she? Where is Emma?”

Will sighed. “It’s a long story, and… Look, ‘ave a seat. We’re going to be here for a bit.”

“Is Emma alright?” Killian felt his anxiety grow into full blown fear, fists clenching as his body tensed.

Will looked at him with pity, and Killian could feel his heart breaking. He sank into a chair as Will wrung his hands, eyes becoming glassy.

“No. I’m so sorry, but Emma… Emma is gone.”

Elsa took a week off, using her rarely touched vacation days and citing a family emergency, causing her sympathetic friends and coworkers in the ward no surprise. For the first time in what felt like decades, the patient room on the corner was empty; a stark and vacuous reminder of how fragile things were. Tremaine had been fired, much to many nurses’ relief, and when Liam had not come back to collect many of Killian's items, they were put down to be boxed up and put in a cabinet for pickup or eventual shipment.

The nurse that had the sad task of preparing Mr. Jones’ room for a new patient was Ariel, her heart heavy as she packed picture after picture away. She was surprised how cold it was in the room, checking the thermostat and finding it set to a normal 71°; the cold made no sense. That would need to be checked, she noted. When she reached for a particular frame of the patient carrying a blonde haired woman on his back, both laughing, she felt an intense feeling of someone watching her, boring holes through her being. She touched the frame, and it shot out of her reach towards the empty bed, landing squarely in the middle as the lights flickered.

She shrieked, running out of the room, and to the nursing station.

“Ariel, what the heck -” another nurse, Ella, hissed at her.

“That room- room 305! The lights and that- a picture! It flew!” Ariel was obviously shaken, and refused to go back in there even as her boss was called to press her.

“I'm down two nurses already, please just get someone to take care of it,” he'd intoned in his nasally voice.

By the time he came in the next day, none of the nurses would go in the room, even with the pictures removed. By the time Elsa returned the next week, it was a hospital wide rumor. Elsa had immediately laughed, as at precisely 4:07 pm on the dot the lights flickered, her immediate belief that it was an insensitive joke the team was playing. Solemn faces met hers.

“Watch, Elsa.” Whispered Aurora, pointing to the door. “In three minutes, that door is going to fly open by itself.”

Elsa looked around for a clock, noticing only now the small groups from other departments milling around and watching. Even some patients had joined to watch, and she felt her stomach turn uneasily. The clock showed time passing in the slowest of measure, and for a moment the ward was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Nothing happened, but as she turned to tell Aurora off, the door slammed open as lights flickered, papers on the nursing station fluttering around in an icy breeze.

“The paper thing is new,” Aurora commented, casually. The lights above them flickered, along with a few down the hallway as people gasped and in a few cases (one being Dr. Whale) screamed curses. “So… is that...” Aurora said more nervously. When the nursing station’s cabinet doors ripped open with a clatter, spilling contents, Aurora yelped along with a majority of the Ward's staff, Ariel almost in tears. “That is definitely new,” Aurora hissed.

Elsa could only gape as the lights returned. She had a sudden memory come to mind, snapping her fingers, and turned to Aurora.

“There's a nanny cam still in that room, from before when Li…” she paused, took a deep breath and collected herself “When the last patient was here. I'll grab it and we'll see if this is actually a haunting.”

Before she could be convinced otherwise, Elsa walked into room 305.

It was cold, dark and empty, nothing amiss as far as she could tell as she walked to the shelf she'd tucked the camera behind, in between rolls of paper towels and extra gowns. Pulling the camera down and carefully removing the memory card, she turned back to the door. As she made her way back, an item caught her eye on the bedside table. A photo frame. Squinting, she walked over to it. A picture of Liam's brother and his girlfriend? She picked it up and left.

“I thought all of these were taken out to give to his family?” Elsa asked, placing it on the nursing station’s counter.

Aurora blinked at her, and Ariel became caught in hysterics again. “Elsa, we did. Where did you get that?”

“You couldn't have. It was in there on the bedside table.” Elsa was exasperated at this point. She tried to check Aurora's face for any sort of tell, but only got a look of fear.

“Elsa… I taped that box up myself, and half the people here watched. None of us were or are going back in there. Go look, it's in the bottom cupboard.”

Elsa walked to the cupboard, opening the door to find a sealed box with Liam's name on it. The seal was unbroken.

Logging onto her computer, she plugged in the memory card to look at the video files. The camera had promised “120 days of continuous video!” when she bought it, and she had changed the cards right before the Fourth of July so it had plenty of memory. She opened the files, noting that they were separated by month. July was first, and she clicked through a few, watching Liam and her until it became too painful.

She skipped to August, to the night… She took a breath, and clicked on the night the patient had passed. A video of the nurses rushing in, and his furious progression into organ failure. Liam's frame making it just in view for a moment before he was pushed out. Their team working frantically until slowly, they trickled out leaving Liam, his brother and the doctor alone.

Finally the doctor left, and Liam sat alone for hours until his brother was taken to the morgue, leaving only then. Elsa refused to cry, tears spilling over anyway as she wiped them away. This wasn't what she was here for. The next day began automatically. Nothing. An empty room. At 2:45pm, a breeze moved the bedsheets of the cot slightly, but nothing was amiss.

The next day, the same, the bed sheets moved slightly around 2:45pm, and Elsa presumed rationally that is when the AC kicked on. That day however, the bedsheets moved more forcefully, as if an unseen hand was pulling them.

The third day, Ariel stepped in around 1:00pm and began collecting personal effects. She moved to pictures on the bedside, and looked around shivering. When she reached for a photo, the lights flickered and when they turned back on Elsa could see the picture on the bed just as she described as she ran out of the room. At 2:45, the bedsheets on the bed smoothed around the picture frame. Elsa blinked, and rewound. As if by magic, the wrinkles and any crooked corners smoothed around the picture frame.

The next day, an exhausted looking Hans walked in, coffee in hand at 8:15am to collect the picture on the bed, shaking his head and calling towards the door. When he touched the frame, the bed shook as the lights flickered, his coffee spilling everywhere. A janitor arrived at slightly after 9 to clean up the spill and remove the picture, only to have every drawer thrown open. Finally, Dr. Bell stomped in, took the picture and stomped out at 4:07, the door to the room slamming itself open and shut several times as the camera’s picture distorted.

Elsa watched in fascination, confusion and terror as she fast forwarded to today's date, watching as the bedside table remained empty. Silence for days besides the door slamming, until she came to where she walked into the room. As she picked the camera up with her face taking up most of the shot, a dark, shadowy, form sat on the bed, placing a picture frame on the bedside table.

He was halfway through a glass of amber liquid when the email appeared in his inbox, Liam almost deleting it on the spot. His phone was set straight to voicemail in hopes of aiding his ambition to drink, unable to think about the quiet burial on a rainy morning. The bottom of a bottle was soothing, the only noise the clink of glass or the sound of things he’d broken. He’d forgotten the ping of emails on his laptop until the noise broke through a hangover.

“Please respond - Killian’s belongings” from a hospital email, the nurse who had called him the night that… He pushed the memory from his mind, not opening the message. The next day, another email arrived. “Urgent!!! - Please get these items!!!” again from this Ariel, desperate for him to answer. This time he did delete the messages, watching as they populated in his trash folder.

He didn’t hear from her again for a few days, when another message appeared. “Viral Video - In case you see it online first: rm305 ghost?” His confusion was only matched by his anger. He opened the message to find a short message, followed by a video link.

“Mr. Jones,

I hate to reach out to you like this, but your brother has some items here that are causing some issues and we have unable to reach you by phone. We recently have had some problems in rm 305, and while it was only a hospital issue, a video regarding the situation has leaked to YouTube. You are not on these recordings, but considering the nature of them, I wanted to let you know.

We don’t know who leaked them, only that the things in this video cannot be disproven. There may even be an investigation with how much of an issue these occurrences are causing, and they have closed down our ward. The hospital is working diligently to find who leaked this, but we have no leads yet.

I know this may sound crazy, but I think you should watch this and consider coming by.

-Ariel Maidon”

Clicking the link took him to a video called, “ROOM 305 GHOST MERCY HOSPITAL”, and he felt his eyes narrow. The video started off with the blurred face of a nurse gathering photos into a box as she looked around the room anxiously. He recognized them immediately: Killian’s prized collection of photos once displayed on his mantle. The nurse reached for a frame, and the lights flickered, the picture appearing in the hospital bed.

Liam was beyond livid. This was a mockery, some fool’s insensitive way to make money off of his brother. He went to grab his phone and call his lawyer, when Elsa’s face came into frame, blurred out but unmistakable. Circled behind her was a black shadow figure, holding a framed picture. Elsa was in on this? His rage boiled over, speaking to his lawyer in clipped tones.

Slamming his thumb onto the red end call button, he hung up, feelingt more anger than before : The video showed nothing of him or his brother, nor was it his own intellectual property. There was nothing he could do except talk to the hospital. After another tumbler or two of rum, he resigned himself. Sending an email to Elsa, he asked her to tell him what she knew about this ‘ghost’.

When Belle went home, it was as if nothing had changed, like she’d decided to turn around instead of heading to school. Will was waiting at the bus stop where she’d left him years ago. The best friend who she’d abandoned forgave her instantly, his crooked smile everything she needed. Even when she sobbed into his embrace, he let her be.

Will at first simply protected her, and she helped him come up with ideas for businesses. Where he felt his skills were limited, Belle saw potential. He picked their lock for fun one night after they had drinks, showing her how insecure her place was, and she’d suggested locksmithing. He’d smiled over his beer.

The first time Gold sent someone for Belle she’d been terrified. The ogre of a man had broken down her door, locks and all, yelling at her about squealing to an informant. She’d denied it, screaming for help. Luckily her landlord had called the police and the distant sirens had scared the stranger off. The first person she’d called was Will. He’d set her up in a different place, until she was found again, and then again in a hotel she’d rented. Finally after she noticed someone following her, she’d begged Will for help. His business in town was having no success due to his reputation so he made her an offer.

“Let’s move away. Come with me.”

If her heart warmed for the first time since she lost Gideon, she pretended not to notice.

In a new apartment, in a new town, they settled into a routine. Belle had saved a large sum of money in a hidden bank account for her and Gideon to escape if they needed to, planning on running years ago but always being too scared. She purchased a small shop space, devoted to books, becoming quite the collector of old or discontinued print items. Will’s locksmith business was also taking off, and they found themselves happily eating dinners together or sitting and watching a movie together after long days.

Belle made the first move, tentatively laying against him and bring Will’s arm over the dip in her side, snuggling into him. A soft kiss on the cheek came next as a thank you for a birthday cake and a framed picture of Gideon and her together. A full kiss that left them both breathless after his team had won the World Cup, which turned into a long and slow session of kissing on their couch.

Things went slow. Belle’s heart healed and reset, a friendly love turning into something more. His hand found hers at the movies, hers snaking into his when they found time to go for walks. Will listened to her cry and comforted her through bouts of sorrow so deep and dark she could not see an end. Even then, he’d waited patiently without pushing anything a all until she sought him, laughing when she told him why they shouldn’t be together: because love is terrible.

“I dunno. I’ve had unrequited love since 6th grade or so, and it’s hard, but never terrible. The only pain I ever got from it was watching her suffer, but watching her heal has helped a lot.”

There was warmth in her chest like when she first kissed Gold, but this time it had dimension, layers, a foundation without cracks. At night when she thought more about it, she remembered Will running to her, or his promises when she would visit him and stare through the glass at his guilty face. Crawling out of bed and laying next to his body, Belle watched him stir, holding her breath. Will’s surprised blinks through grogginess are at first in shock, then happiness, as he gathered her into him.

“If this turns out to be a dream, I’ll be right pissed off,” he mumbled sleepily, and she laughed, falling asleep with him.

Her old room was bigger with an ensuite, but his bed more comfortable. After what felt like a day of torture, his bed now in her room and her lumpy mattress rested on the curb, they had purchased a desk for a new home office where Will could run things run things instead of from the living room. When he suggested a date to celebrate, they ended up dancing through the aches left from moving furniture all day and medicating with a Long Island special that left her drunk.

She’d begged him over sloppy kisses to touch her, and heard his groans as needy as hers. When she woke up clothed, Will greeted her with coffee.

“You’re going to have one helluva hangover, love.” He smiled sympathetically.

“We didn’t?”

“No. Until you’re ready, and can tell me when you’re sober to the point I believe you won’t regret it, I’d never.” He sipped his coffee on the edge of the bed. “I’m an idiot, and probably a fool, but not a monster.”

She’d cried, smiling like an idiot and confusing the hell out of him as he went to put his arms around her.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright -” rubbing her arms with his hands, as she shook her head.

“Will, I love you.”

Regina, Ruby, and Ruby’s charge made their way to Hopper’s office at a run, his call to them punctuated by bursts of yelling and the breaking of the various ceramics he had collected. Regina had no patience for this sort of thing. If she had a choice, she’d be sipping a martini while being fanned by a number of muscular men - but this was The Inbetween, not Paradise.

Ruby, on the other hand, was annoyed for an entirely different reason, watching the student she’d traded Hopper files and a week’s worth of pay for buttoning his fly as they ran to Hopper’s aid. Graham, a zoologist and nature filmmaker. They’d bonded over a love of wolves, the outdoors, and dying woefully single while still gorgeous. She liked the way his name tasted on her lips, and he just liked the way she tasted. Whatever this call was, it had better be good.

It was.

Will stood, red faced and panting, facing a dark haired and half crazed looking stranger. The stranger chucked something at him with a snarl, before launching himself at Will who was busy dodging. Regina’s eyes went wide, a muttered swear before she dragged the stranger back.

“What the hell,” Regina pulled back on the dark haired man’s form as he struggled against her chokehold, “is going on here?” She thought for a moment he looked familiar, but could not place where.

“Will! Are you alright? Who is that?” Ruby ran to WIll, noticing a trickle of blood beginning to disappear on his forehead. “Jesus, how many times did he hit you?”

Archie chimed in, poking his head up over his desk chair. “A lot, they’ve been going at it blow for blow, and my mediating isn’t working, because Will -”

“It’s my fault, let him hit me.” Will spat blood, and Ruby’s eyes turned back to the stranger. “I told him he could, and I deserve it.”

Escaping Regina’s grip for a moment, the stranger lunged again rasping out words in his rage.

“Bloody right it’s your fault, she’s not here and she waited! Emma waited for me, and you let her…” He let out a sound of anguish. “You bastard, you should have noticed -”

Regina’s eyes widened as she pulled the man back into a head lock, recognition finally lighting her eyes. “Oh, shit.” She leaned her arm back, tightening on his windpipe. “Well. It is you, isn’t it? Killian?”

Killian wheezed in her grasp. “Bad form to hit a lady, let me go so I can -”

Ruby blinked, finally putting the pieces together. “Wait, is he? You’re Killian? Like, Emma’s unfinished business?”

Will nodded. “I told him I’d take him to her, but we can’t fix it. We can’t fix…” His shoulders dropped, fists balled as he looked away. “He can take it out on me. It’s not like I won’t heal from it. He can push me off rooftops as far as I’m concerned at this point.”

“Don’t you dare cry for her!” Killian snarled again, shaking with rage.

Ruby’s face fell, Graham moving over to wrap an arm around her waist. Regina’s grip softened, but as Killian moved to lunge again, she grabbed his wrist twisting his arm. He was forced to a kneel, her grip a vice that he couldn’t escape.

“Don’t you dare tell us not to cry for her.” Regina spoke in a low voice, wavering at the end of the sentence. “I watched as she sat with you for hours. Will was her charge. Ruby and Hopper tried to make her laugh. We were her friends. Emma told us everything there was about you.”

“He ate so healthy, when he wakes up the hospital food will drive him insane.” Ruby imitated in a pitch perfect imitation of Emma. Killian turned, a glare softening. “And she’d imitate you: ‘How dare you give me bloody gelatin,’ with a smile.”

“She said we’d be fast friends, more than once. Should ‘ave known it’d come to blows.” Will looked up, crying. “She was my best friend here. Her home is right next to mine -”

“Emma had a home here?” Killian interrupted in a quiet voice.

Will nodded. “I don’t know if it will stay up, though, I’ve been watching for looters or anyone poking around. I won’t let anyone take the last fragments of her.”

There was a pause, heavy silence falling over the room.

“I’ll take you, if you want.” Regina bent down laying a hand on Killian’s shoulder and releasing her grip. He shook her off, glaring ahead at Will.

“No. He can take me.” Killian nodded at Will, who walked to the door without a word before turning to look at Hopper, sitting in his desk chair.

“Hopper, have his file on my desk. I’ve got this one.” Will left, and Killian followed behind, shoes crunching on shards of ceramic. They headed for the residential area in silence.

Emma’s home was undisturbed, one of Will’s charges sitting on the porch.

“Hey Will!” She waved, red hair falling everywhere. “I didn’t expect you to be back so early, but no one has tried anything.”

“Thanks Merida. I’ll see you later.” He waved her off, even as she cast strange looks at the man behind him. Looking back, Killian’s jaw was set, face set in quiet anger, softening as he saw Emma’s home. He stared ahead at the small house, and Will approached, touching the sea glass windchime near the door.

“She said it was for good luck,” Will said quietly. Killian nodded, his face crumbling.

“We had one at home.” Joining Will on the small porch, he gently touched a piece of sea glass, listening to the chiming pieces. “I guess they didn’t work.”

Will opened the door, and as soon as Killian stepped inside his anger was replaced with longing and grief. Leaning in the doorway, Will watched Killian take a few steps, breathing in the cinnamon and vanilla scent of her, breaking into tears. Touching her things, soft blankets on a red leather couch, paintings of the sea under the stars or a VW bug the color of sunshine. A buttercup growing in a pale blue pot, closely guarded, brought sobs through a smile, but a sketchbook filled with scratched kohl drawings of him brought actual laughter.

“She never liked to draw. Only painting, and even then she didn’t like me to watch.” Killian’s voice was a hoarse whisper.

“Things get boring here if you don’t find new hobbies. She started that because…” Will looked suddenly uncomfortable.

“What? I’m done punching you, mate.”

“She started that because she said she was forgetting you,” Will murmured. The sentence filled the room, stretching into guilt so heavy it ached on their shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s… It’s alright. Can you take me to her? I’m ready.” Killian pulled a pillow into his embrace, closing his eyes.

“I can, sometimes time moves funny here, so a few weeks have past. I’m going to tell you though, we can’t fix this. So are you planning on staying with her?” Will cast his glance down, already knowing the answer.

“If that’s what it takes to be with her.”

“You won’t be with her though, you’ll be looking for her for eternity. Haunts don’t react to one another unless it’s drastic - Like a murder or trauma.” Will’s voice rose. “Emma wouldn’t want you to -”

“Don’t tell me what Emma would have wanted.” The dangerous low growl was back, Killian’s eyes narrowed. “She’s not here, because of you. Take me to her.”

Will sighed. A puff of gray smoke and they were in a hospital hallway, Killian feeling sick from the pull in his navel. The lights were off, yellow tape on his old room and the ward doors, but someone was there and yelling.

“What did you do!”

Liam’s voice? Killian blinked. What the hell was his brother doing here? Peeking around the corner, two figures sat in the empty nurses’ station. Liam looked a right mess, his hair unruly, dark circles under his eyes, and the beginnings of a beard growing.

“I didn’t do anything. I promise you.” Elsa’s voice pleading. “Liam, you look terrible. You shouldn’t be here. This was a mistake on my part, When I got your email I thought you…”

Liam grunted. “You thought I what? Was coming to take you back on a date after you showed me proof of a ghost? A ghost that you made up just to garner sympathy?”

“Liam. Please. I thought -”

“Stop thinking and show me the damn ghost like you said you would.”

Killian could rip Liam’s head off, someone caring for his stubborn arse more than anything only to be pushed away by pain.

As if on cue, Will whispered, “Your brother is a prat and a damned asshole.” Killian actually managed a small sad grin at that and nodded.

“If you only knew.” A light flickered with a shower of sparks, and Killian could see something building into a shrouded figure within his old room. Emma. She was here.

“Here we go,” whispered Elsa.

At her words, everything in his old room trembled like an earthquake had hit. Killian turned to Will, extending a hand.

“I’m not sorry for punching you, but thanks. For everything. You were there for her when I couldn’t be, and I can’t be angry at that. Goodbye,” Killian said with a nod, and Will shook his hand. He walked into the chaos that was ensuing in the room, listening to his brother’s protests of fake effects.

Emma stood in the middle of the room, a silent wail coming from her mouth as she shuffled towards the nurses station. A mixture of white and grays, faded to an opaque mix of mist that curled like a thick fog rolling in made up an image of her. There was no color, no blonde hair or green eyes, no flush of pink on her cheeks; her lips once a pale rose lost. Her face contorted in fury instead, tendrils of the haze that surrounded her pulsing out as things shook, knocking anything near her over. Pictures of them littered the floor, broken glass everywhere.

“Emma, oh, love.” Killian tried to embrace her, but a cold chill entered his being like being dropped into ice water. She moved through him and he could hear her scream of grief. She was unfazed by his appearance, unable or unwilling to see him. Making her way out the door towards Liam and Elsa, the world shuddered around her. The tape covering the room broke as the nurses’ station’s contents flew everywhere, pelting Liam and Elsa. Liam yelled, a computer keyboard ripping off the desk as drawers and cabinets flying open and shut. Killian could barely hear him above the noise, watching Emma in her wrath. Emma cried, neck straining and cabinet doors fell off their hinges, yanked free as the contents exploded.

“Liam! Look out!” Elsa was screaming about something as she pushed him out of the way, a light shattering where he was before, the piece splitting to hit her in the back of the head. Her body went limp over his.

“We need to get out of here, damn it all, what even is this?” Liam tried to clear a pathway, protecting himself from the hurricane-like debris that rained down on him. “Elsa?” He shook her and she let out a moan without opening her eyes. “No, Elsa, c’mon love.” Liam pulled her further into him, shielding her with his frame.

Killian reached through Emma again, desperately trying to grasp her. “Emma, you’re hurting people, you need to stop!” The roar he heard from her was like an oncoming train. He was thrown away, his own form roughly hitting a wall. Will tried to approach Emma’s form but was thrown as well, her anger practically an electric current running through the air.

Emma only stared at Liam, gently shaking Elsa’s shoulders. She raised a finger, pointing at him. The nurses station and cabinets began to rock, Liam trying to scoot away while being battered from all sides. Killian fought through whatever force surrounded her, arms out to protect himself and reached for her hand. The cabinets rocked harder, brackets splitting the drywall that held them in place. A filing cabinet fell, trapping Liam and Elsa in the nurses’ station, Liam pulled her tightly into his chest, pressing her into him.

“Emma!” Killian reached again, moving closer. “Emma I’m here, I’m here to stay with you!” His hand caught hers, finally grasping something corporeal. Her eyes were on his suddenly, cabinets still rocking but wind lessening. “It’s me love, Killian. I’m here.”

“I couldn’t find you. I was alone, again.” Emma’s voice was the quietest whisper, everything stopping and going still as she looked at him.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Taking several steps forward, he kissed her forehead. “I’m here now. I’ll stay with you, it’s alright.”

“Always?” Warmth met his palms, once cold and stiff. Emma’s fingers wove themselves into his, interlocking. “You’re really here?”

“I’ll never stop fighting for us. I would follow you to the end of the world, and obviously the next.”

“Killian, it’s really you.” Emma let out a laugh, the noise beautiful to his ears. She peppered his face with kisses, laughing at the smile that crept on his face. Her body felt solid in his arms, mist fading away until her eyes were the green he dreamt about.

“Aye, it’s really me.” They laughed, and he spun her in a circle. Will watched in awe at Emma cupping Killian’s face, laughing through tears. He glanced to where Elsa and Liam had been, watching as Liam pulled them out of the nurses’ station now that no debris was flying. A cut on his forehead dripped, and Elsa stirred.

“Liam… You’re bleeding?” She touched the scrape, and he brushed her hand away.

“It’s fine, I’m more concerned about you. Are you alright?” Liam touched the back of her head gingerly, and she winced. “If it’s any consolation, I believe you. That was insane -”

“It’s not normally this bad. I don’t know what made it worse this time…”

Killian smiled. “They’ll be alright, I think.”

Emma returned his knowing look. “I missed you so much.”

Pressing his lips against hers, they kissed, white light blinding in the room. They glowed as the world disappeared, along with all the pain that had been sitting for so long. Emma’s lips moved in perfect sync with his, hands feeling her waist; pulling her closer, making the kiss deeper, more passionate. A gentle golden sparkle and they were gone, leaving a bewildered Liam, Elsa, and Will.

Elsa and Liam glanced at each other, still sitting in his lap. She moved to crawl a few feet, staring at the spot where two very clear figures had embraced passionately - one, for sure, being Liam’s brother.

“Did you see that?” Liam whispered. “Please tell me you just saw that and I’m not imagining things because I’ve gone mental -”

“Your brother and his girlfriend? Either that or we are hallucinating due to a multitude of factors.”

“What the hell just happened?” Liam shook his head, rubbing the heel of his palm firmly against his forehead.

“I don’t know, honestly.” Elsa laughed, looking up at him. “I may have a concussion, but I feel like they - or something - found peace. I don’t know, I guess. This room is just suddenly filled with so much love. It feels like...” Her gaze turned downwards and away.

“I’m sorry.”

Elsa looked up at him, her head cocked. “For what?”

“Where should I start? Elsa, I’m an idiot and I miss you -” She raised a finger to silence him.

“Liam, I can’t. I loved you. I still…” Looking away, her fingers picked at her braid. “I can’t be like we were.”

“I understand.” Liam stiffened, nodding with a mask of indifference to cover his disappointment.

“I’d like to start over. Maybe we can try again? You just got over losing someone, and I’d love to be there to help you get through it.” Elsa smiled, and Liam’s heart began to pound.

“Pending concussion and or gas inhalation, would you like to get dinner tonight?” He began to stand, helping her up. She picked debris off of him, running her hands down his chest.

“Italian?” Elsa looked up and met his eyes, seeing the same feelings mirrored there.

“Anything you want.”

#3rd #August #2018 #August 3rd 2018 #LIMBO #limbo 2/3 #CSSNS #cssns fanfic #cs supernatural summer #courtorderedcake #tumblr hates me #dammit #captain swan #cs ff #cs au #frozen jewel #bah humbug #I'm so close to being done #I can taste it

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