Hook stood alone in Emma’s room at Granny’s. Her red jacket was thrown on the end of the made bed, and he found it was all he could keep his eyes on. After today, he would never see that jacket again. He would never again catch a sudden whiff of its scent. He would say goodbye to it today, but return to his world seeing its shade of red everywhere he turned, tearing open the wound in his heart repeatedly for God knows how long.
Emma was done with magic. She’d saved the town as she always did, and even found a way to send all the residents back to their own world once again, this time with the reassurance that they would not - and could not - come back. So she’d asked him to meet with her, to kiss her, to take away her powers. She was giving up her magic, giving up her family, everyone who cared about her, to take care of her son in a magic-free world. Secretly. She’d told no one of her plans but himself and Gold, who was to preform the curse to return everything as it was, with fairy tale people in their fairy tale land. Including Hook.
The thought of being without everything he had allowed himself to love made him want to end the misery at that exact moment, but he couldn’t, not until he suffered through the worst moment of his life. And that moment-
The door opened.
-was going to happen right now.
He wanted to take a deep breath to prepare himself, but air refused to enter his lungs. His body stopped working, save his racing heart. His blonde love stepped into her room and looked up at him with absolutely no surprise in her eyes. This was a planned event. He just hoped that some unplanned words would be spoken…
"Alright," Emma sighed, closing the door behind her. "I’m ready."
"That makes one of us."
His words brought forth the emotions he had been hoping to see on her face. First hesitation, but then relief. He had feared they would have to endure an uncomfortable moment as he tried to get his confession into the air between them, but she must have known already - of course she knew already - for she walked straight up to him and took him desperately by the collar.
She meant to speak, her mouth opened, her breath halted, but she made no noise.
Hook rested his forehead against hers, finally able to breathe now that she was holding onto him. “Think of me often,” he whispered.
She pulled him tighter. “For the record, this wasn’t how I wanted this to end.”
He forced a cocky smile. “Better to end with a dramatic blow than a pathetic happy ending, wouldn’t you say?” He reached his hand up and ran his fingers through a few locks of her hair. “Our adventure deserves to end like a canon, Swan.”
"Canons are messy and heavy and destructive and momentary."
"Glad you understood the metaphor."
She closed her eyes as her breath escaped her lungs. “I’m making the right choice.”
"So why does this feel so horrible?"
He lifted his forehead slowly off hers. “You tell me.”
She opened her eyes, instantly capturing his. But it wasn’t just his eyes she seemed to be treasuring. She was looking deeper than that. He could feel it in his chest. Call it the magic in the air or simply his utter longing for her, but he could feel her stirring up his soul. Teasing it. Giving him the false hope he’d had so many times before that she might actually tell him everything he wanted to hear, give him everything he wanted to hold. But it was always just false hope.
And as if reading his mind, she said, “I’m not going to say it.”
He looked down to her lips, just to avoid her eyes. “You never do.”
Her hands repositioned themselves on his neck, keeping his mind on her. “But I want to.”
He returned his eyes to hers. He couldn’t help himself. “So what’s the problem?”
"The problem is that this is all too real. If I say it… it just confirms that this is it. We’re never going to see each other again."
"Because we’re not," he reminded her in a suddenly sharp voice. Did she really not fully grasp that this was it? “This is our last encounter. Never will our paths cross again.”
"So do you really want closure?" she questioned. "Or do you want this to live and breathe for a while longer?"
Hook licked his lips in haste. “I’ve had the little adventure of losing someone I cared deeply about without any sort of closure. Take it from me, it’s not something you want to live with.”
"I’ve lived without closure, too." Her voice now met his, standing her ground against his distaste of the conversation. "We can either set everything on the table now and sign off the final chapter, or we can just leave things as they are now and live with an unfinished book."
"In what God forsaken realm does that sound even remotely enjoyable?"
"I’ll spend my days knowing you’re thinking about me, and you’ll spend yours knowing I’m thinking about you. Thinking about what we really had here. Thinking about what could have happened."
"You’re a mad woman, you know that?"
"I don’t want this to end, Killian."
He stopped barking back remarks. Her pleading eyes made him pause. She was serious. She knew this was it, but she was going to try to deny it. So, reluctantly, he let her words sink in, let the possibilities into his open head, relished in the ideas of what she proposed. A lifetime on deck, with the hope that she had meant what she hadn’t said. A lifetime alone, not knowing how far her feelings for him had gone, but also not knowing for certain where they had stopped. Another lifetime longing the woman who had been taken from him, but this time he would know she was still out there, yearning for him as well.
And curse the woman, if she was mad, so was he.
Hook swallowed his pride (whatever was left of it) and returned his attention to her. “No closure?”
Emma’s eyebrows drew together in anticipation. “No closure.”
"For the rest of your life," his hand found its way up to her cheek, "feeling stuck in this moment right here?"
"The rest of my life knowing you’re stuck in this moment with me." Her words brought a small smile to her own face. "Knowing you’re never going to stop thinking about me."
Hook frowned, actual confusion and concern clouding his eyes. “As if that was even an option…”
Emma’s face flooded with relief. Her eyes closed, her smile took over her face, and she nodded once. He knew what it meant. It was time.
While relief had overtaken her features, sorrow over took his own. His eyes closed against the burn, his eyebrows furrowed against the pain, but his fingers relaxed against her neck. Leaning forward, his nose brushed hers, her sigh tickled his cheeks, and finally his lips pressed down against hers.
And the world fell away.
This time it most likely was the magic in the air making his soul expand though his chest, giving him sensations he’d never again be able to fully describe, but for the rest of his life, no one could convince him his emotions during that kiss were anything but his complete and utter love for Emma Swan.
possible captain swan kisses
(that I plan on writing)
Lydia had just closed her locker when someone came up next to her. “Ask me to the Sadie Hawkins dance.”
She raised her eyebrows at him - the boy who had the guts to say this to her face. Ah, Stiles. Of course it was Stiles. The boy who had been failing to hide his love for her for eight years now. And for some reason he thinks them fighting werewolves together would help his game with her. She rolled her eyes. “And what makes you think I would want to do that?”
"We both want to go together," he said as he leaned an arm casually up on the locker. Except it wasn’t casually. He shrugged two too many times. "So just ask me and get it over with."
"If that was the case, why didn’t you ask me to the last school dance we had?"
He hesitated, covering his moment of thought with a slow chuckle. ”Because we weren’t as close then as we are now.”
"Literally nothing has changed between us, Stiles. Nothing."
"What?" he said in a high voice, frowning. "What do you mean nothing’s changed? We’ve been, you know, bonding…"
Lydia raised her eyebrows. “Over dead bodies?”
"We’ve grown close," he was quick to add, "I can feel it."
"All you feel are your emotions for me having a harder time playing it cool."
"Because they can tell your emotions for me are starting to bubble to the surface?" he encouraged.
Lydia rolled her eyes again, this time walking around him. He followed, as expected. “I said nothing changed between us.”
"You’re at least talking to me now." He stepped in front of her. "You used to just flip your hair in my face."
"Believe me, I’m tempted," she narrowed her eyes. But, damn her mouth, a smile pulled through. His puppy dog eyes and determined eyebrows were enough of an adorable mix to make her pause.
He noticed, too. Great.
Stiles’s eyes landed on her lips for a moment, and as a smile pulled at his own, he looked back to her eyes. “So can I say yes now?”
She sighed heavily, giving into the conversation. “To what, exactly?”
"To you asking me to the Sadie Hawkins dance."
Lydia shook her head, but only to herself. She hadn’t planned on asking him. She’d planned on this happening. He may have been a sassy werewolf side-kick, but he was so predictable. “Yes.”
best of stydia - being each others’ rock
"watching her fall into Stiles’ arms (after an episode in which she basically had her arm around him the whole time) was especially meaningful. I don’t claim to know what’s going to happen between these two but I genuinely love that their relationship has deepened beyond mere romantic infatuation. It’s like they are each others’ rocks now, and that is just insanely touching to me. " (x)
TEXT FROM LYDIA:
Stiles was there within minutes. Seeing Lydia pacing in front of the bleachers was the sight he needed to continue breathing. She was at least standing. The last time he’d gotten a location from her, he found her curled up in a ball in the corner of the chemistry lab, sobbing her eyes out.
"Hey," he says as he comes closer. "You okay?"
Lydia turns to him with her eyebrows knitted together and her jaw clenched shut. Instantly, without hesitation, he has her in his arms, holding her head to his shoulder. No words are spoken. They don’t need to be. He knows what’s going on.
Everything reminded them of Allison. The school, the talk of her recent passing, walking by her locker in the hall, the teachers making no effort to hide the empty seat in class. Weeks had passed, but they didn’t seem to be healing. The only difference between Stiles and Lydia was his ability to hold his emotions together. Especially when hers were showing.
"I’m sorry," Lydia sighed. She pulled back, but Stiles didn’t let her walk out of his grasp. "You have class to get back to. I shouldn’t have texted-"
"Don’t worry; class can wait."
"No, I can wait." She dropped her eyes down to his chest. "I’ll only get you in trouble for missing class."
Stiles shook his head. “Screw class. I know you better than you give me credit for. You’re about to crack, Lydia.” He brought a hand to her face, leading her eyes back up to his. “I’m not leaving you.”
She smiled, and her face finally showed the sorrow she was hiding. Even as her eyes filled with tears, she kept her sweet smile on. “I don’t know how I was surviving without you before.” He voice was a whisper, barely making its way out.
Stiles took a step forward to cut off the distance between them. He pressed his lips to her forehead and held her hand between their chests. “Your life wasn’t so hard before.”
"That’s the thing," she shook her head. "It was."
Stiles felt her hand start to shake and he pulled her tighter into his chest, hanging his head over her shoulder as she trembled. “I’m here now, okay?” She nodded. “And I’m not going anywhere.” She nodded again, and clutched her hands around his back just to make sure.
Hook set down his mug of rum (thank that old woman for having some sense in what to keep in her cupboards) and turned to the gorgeously blonde woman who had just sat down next to him. He was just dizzy enough to be ready for this conversation, even if he knew it would end badly.
"So," he smirked at her as she turned to face him, "care to tell me what we are?"
Emma stared at him for a moment with furrowed eyebrows. “What is that supposed to mean?”
"What are we? Where are we going?"
"I’m not going anywhere."
"No," he said shortly, rolling his eyes. "We, Swan. The two of us?"
She watched him now with confusion and annoyance. “We’re not going anywhere. What are you-” She cut off and gave herself a second. Then she turned away from him with a sigh. “Oh, you mean romantically.”
"Why do you say it like it’s a nuisance?"
"I didn’t say it like that," she argued defensively, "I was just…. remembering that that’s what you’re aiming for."
“I’m aiming for? What happened to we?”
She winced. “So many pronouns…”
Hook leaned forward, keeping her attention. “Are you avoiding my question?”
"Which question?" she threw back, "You haven’t ended a sentence with a period since I sat down."
"My original question. Where do we stand?"
"On shaky ground," she answered. "I don’t think I can say we stand anywhere for sure."
"So then," he cleared his throat, pausing for a moment as the tall waitress handed Emma her food. When she walked away and Emma started cutting apart her pancake, he continued, "Where are we going?”
"That depends," she shrugged.
"On?" he pressed.
She dropped her fork in frustration. “On how far you plan to analyze this.”
"As if that would change the outcome," he snarked.
"It would. You’re thinking too hard. Just… let it happen as it happens."
He grudgingly reached for his mug. “You’re so sure it will happen.”
"I don’t have many options when you won’t back down," she mumbled behind a bite of food.
"I’m a pirate, love. I get what I want."
Emma stood up from her stool and grabbed her plate. “Then stop acting like I’ll slip through your fingers.”
He spoke before she took three steps away, “Won’t you?”
She stopped, looked over her shoulder with a smug glance at him. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”
Episodes with Dylan - my favorite. There’s a chemistry, I do not know why.
#imagine the day stiles dies #they’re married to other people and have families and don’t even live in the same town #lydia left after graduation and never came back #but one day she finds herself driving back to beacon hills #and she has no idea why #until she passes a car accident and watches as the paramedics pull a body from one of the cars #and she immediately recognizes the bloodied face #the same face that smiled at her every morning #the same face that spoke with such love and affection towards her #the same face she watched transform from young and chubby cheeked to handsomely chiseled #and she screams#not just a banshee scream#but a normal human scream full of shock and heartbreak #lydia martin will ALWAYS be connected to stiles stilinski and you can’t convince me otherwise [x]
"We’ve got to get him back," Lydia exhaled, holding her head in her hands. "This is driving me crazy."
Aiden sat down next to her on her bed. “The voices? Are they getting louder?”
"No, not the voices. Stiles. He could be dying, or already dead, for all we know! And we’re just sitting around twiddling our thumbs!"
"There’s only so much we can do," he reassured her, running his hand across her shoulders. "Scott’s working with Deaton right now. They’re gonna find a way to help him-"
"How?" she exclaimed, standing up. "Deaton says he knows everything, but he let things get this far. Why didn’t he do something the second Stiles was having trouble sleeping? He obviously knew something was happening!"
"Lydia, no one knew this was happening. There was no way any of us could have seen this coming."
"Stiles started acting differently the day after they did that stupid death theory. We’ve had all that time to help him.”
"Yeah, but no one noticed anything that early on-"
"I noticed…" she whispered to herself more so than to him. "I noticed and I did nothing and now he’s going to die."
Aiden stood up from the bed and reached for her arm. “Lydia,” he said gently, “this isn’t your fault.”
"Then why do I feel so guilty?"
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been wondering that. We’ve been in terrifying situations like this before, and it’s still terrifying, I know, but for some reason you’re really taking this one to heart.”
"Because it’s Stiles," she hissed. Her eyes darted back and forth, as if she couldn’t focus on one spot long enough to get a grip. "I mean - Stiles! The guy that was always there to protect me, to remind me that I’m not useless, to keep things light and cut me a little space to breathe.”
Aiden took his hand off her shoulder. “What, and I don’t do that for you?”
Lydia finally looked at him, tensing up. He waited, tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “No,” she started. “You do, but… you do because we’re together. Stiles just did it because…”
"Because he’s in love with you but I’m not?"
"I didn’t say that; you’re just throwing random things at me now."
"Now I’m not. I’m throwing you the thoughts you’re too afraid to say aloud," he snapped. "The reason you’re so upset about all of this is because you’ve gotten it into your head that Stiles is the only one that cares about you. Stiles is the one in trouble right now and for some reason it’s about you."
"I’m not trying to make it about me! That’s not why I’m upset-" Lydia tried to cut in.
"Then why? Don’t tell me it’s because you two were so close that your life is going to fall apart if he dies. You ignore him eighty percent of the time!"
"So that means I can’t care?"
"Not this much! I did die once, and you didn’t show half as much sorrow then as you are now.”
Lydia turned away from him sharply. Aiden expected her to inform him that he had no say in how she felt about people. They’d had arguments before and that was always how she ended the fight: “You can’t tell me how to run my life.” But she didn’t say it this time. She just kept her back to him, not letting him see her face. She wasn’t one to give up on an argument, even if she knew she was going to lose. Unless she’d already lost…
"Oh, my God," Aiden scoffed. "You’re in love with him, aren’t you?"
He saw her hesitate, shifting her weight back and forth between her feet, and still she said nothing.
Aiden sneered and grabbed his jacket off the bed. “I’m gonna take that as a yes,” he growled, then marched out the door.
So, I have an idea for a story, but I can’t decide which couple I want to use.
The guy is cocky and dorky, like Stiles, but has a sexy accent and looks (in my head) like Klaus.
The woman is a business woman with annoyance always bubbling on the inside, like Caroline, but… Actually, no, I can only picture Caroline.
Anyone up for a Stiles/Caroline fic?
Ugh, but I also really want it to be Klaroline.
But imagine it as Stydia!
I have a problem.