Why did I read "Angst go to therapy challenge" instead of "Angel go to therapy challenge"? đ¤ŁđđŠ
That's fair. That's basically the same concept, really. One's just more abstract while the other wears a long, black coat and broods a lot, but it really is the same thing.
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what happens when you still (god iâm the worst, fire me, i deserve it) havenât done a prompt request and the ever lovely @lovedinapastlife wants something because sheâs developed a decades too late crush on a young bruce springsteen? well, itâs me, so you get a mess but also, this:Â
Pushing open the window, she looks down at him, confusion settling across her sleepy face. âWhat are you doing here?âÂ
He stays silent, pushing his way through the window, spinning around to take her room in. Everything looks like the Betty Cooper he knows: light and pink; soft and feminine.Â
âJughead,â Betty says softly, almost beseechingly, repeating her previous question, âwhat are you doing here?âÂ
Staring, he has to stop himself for reaching for her. âI just need to know one thing.âÂ
Betty bites her lip, her toes curling into the carpet. âWhatâs that?âÂ
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Emma Swan just wants to write the follow-up to her bestselling debut novel, thatâs all. But when she gets off to a rough start with her new editor, Killian Jones, she knows itâs not going according to plan. Then, an unexpected figure from Emmaâs past reappears and life begins to mirror the crime thriller sheâs penning. Suspicion and secrets aboundâbut love might too. A writer/editor AU with a thriller twist.
Rated E. Story warnings: sexual content, kidnapping, some gore, violence, and minor character deathânot to mention salty language! On Ao3 here.
Chapter warnings: swearing and plotting.Â
First, a huge thank you to @sambethe, who is the best beta I could have ever asked for. And to @shady-swan-jones for the delightful banner. @bleebug did some incredible art for the first chapter, which you can check out here. Also, a huge thank you to @captainswanbigbang and everyone modding that for their tireless effort over the last 6+ months. Finally, to everyone who read, reblogged, liked, etc.--I was blown away and THANK YOU. Tagging @lenfaz and anyone else who asks me to!
Ch. 1
Chapter 2
Killian knows he has to fix things with Emma so they can work together, but thatâs not the whole story.
Killian
Killian all but hit his head against the desk when Emma stomped out of his office. Fuck. This was...not good.
Bloody understatement of the year.
She didnât deserve his behavior. He had meant what he said--he did think her work needed some polish, but she was a brilliant lass, and her debut novel had been excellent. She was impressive for her talent alone. To say nothing of her fiery passion and startling good looks.
God, he hadnât been prepared for that. Heâd been so distracted by her golden hair and solemn, intense green eyes heâd barely remembered how to function. Clearly, he hadnât remembered how to keep his words in check, if that cringe-worthy excuse of a meeting was any indication. August was not going to be happy when he filled him in on this development.
When heâd met August Booth a few years before, heâd dismissed the manâs offer to come work at his fairly new publishing house. August and his partner, Regina Mills (a pseudo-royal figure in the publishing world), had just gotten it started and off the ground, and while they were pulling in excellent talent, Killian was happy to remain in London. Plus, the Boston location didnât appeal. If he were going to relocate to the US, he really would prefer to end up in New York, the real center of the publishing world.
But then everything had gone to shit.
It had started with that damned publicity tour for the Royal Navy. Heâd been recruited after graduating from uni, drowning in debt and getting his start in the cutthroat world of publishing and public relations. Liam was an officer and said heâd look out for him. Heâd quickly been snapped up and promoted within the PR division for the Navy. (âJust think, your face and the pathos of brotherly love...the country will eat this up.â) It had gone well enough, grueling if a bit dull.
Then theyâd sent him out on tour on his brotherâs ship. The first part had been grand. Getting to spend time with Liam every day was amazing, a feat they hadnât reliably managed in years. It had been smooth sailing of the literal and metaphorical sort, until the explosion. Â
The work of terrorists or saboteurs--the Navy was never too clear about the results of their investigation. At any rate, the tragedy had claimed Liamâs life, and Killian had lost his hand. His increasing bitterness against his country had obviously rendered him a poor choice for continuing his career in PR for the Royal Navy. Theyâd released him with a generous settlement, on the condition he not badmouth them to every reporter who came along.
Heâd done well enough at the keeping quiet bit for a while, until trouble had found him in the form of Milah Smythe. She was tenacious, his Milah. She was a journalist for The Independent, and sheâd tracked him down and tried to tease out his tale for a story she was working on. She had succeeded in doing so...after three dates and a passionate night.
Sheâd come clean to him the next day about her job. Heâd been angry, devastated that the first person heâd felt a connection to since Liamâs death was trying to use him. Then she apologized, telling him she had no intention of using his interview for her story, that the attraction between the two of them was worth more than that to her.
Killian remembered the next year and a half in perfect detail. The laughter over dinners and lunches, the steadfast support theyâd given each other. She had even gotten him back into the literary world by introducing him to an editor she knew. Â The love that had grown between him and Milah was his cornerstone. He knew it was love on their first weekend away together, a brief trip to Cornwall. Theyâd moved in together after just a couple months, and he loved the bliss of waking up to her in his arms, greeted by her tousled hair and light snores, her teasing him over his sleep-talking.
Heâd been eyeing rings--even had an appointment with a jeweler--when heâd gotten the phone call from the hospital. It had been one of those crazy things. Milah apparently had a heart condition no one had known about. It was completely unpredictable and her death instantaneous.
Suddenly, she was gone and he was alone again.
Heâd climbed back into a bottle, and his work had suffered for it. He knew he was in trouble with his publishing house, so heâd done what he could to salvage it--heâd tried selling the story of what happened to him and Liam in the Navy.
The British government had been none too pleased, and when he found himself being followed by hulking men, he panicked. He dug out Augustâs number and asked him if the offer to come work for Mills & Booth was still good.
August had agreed to help him, and quickly, in exchange for a favor. The favor that would now be even more complicated than heâd thought.
Killian sighed. Heâd had one job. (Well, two, since he was in fact an editor, regardless.) He needed to win Emma over, keep her pliable and complacent. And willing to go along with anything he or August suggested.
That was going to be...fun.
He groaned, burying his face in his hands. Somehow, someway, he was going to have to fix this.
&&&
Killian made his way down the hall to Cleoâs office. He had only known her by reputation prior to arriving at Mills & Booth, but so far all of the positive things he had heard seemed to be borne out. His meetings with her had been purely professional, but he recalled hearing that she had worked closely with Emma and her former editor. The couple of times theyâd seen each other since his arrival had been pleasant enough, and he hoped sheâd be able to help him.
He knocked on her closed door.
âCome in!â her voice rang out, in a clear, brusque tone.
Walking through the door, he dipped his head in acknowledgment. âMs. Fox.â
âMr. Jones,â she said, peering at him across the desk and motioning for him to take a seat. âWhat can I do for you?â
âI was hoping to chat with you about Emma, if you have a moment,â he said, hoping there was enough humility in his posture sheâd take pity on him.
Cleo looked impassive and unimpressed. âQuite a ruckus you all raised yesterday.â
He scratched the back of his ear self-consciously. âEr, indeed. About thatâŚâ
âIâm actually surprised it took you this long to make your way down here.â
Killian winced at the mild censure in her tone. âSorry about that. I was unsure about the best way of handling, so I--â
She snorted. âSo you went for the opposite of âhandling itâ by doing nothing?â
âI thought maybe we just needed to cool down?â
A raised eyebrow was the only response he received.
Finally, he shrugged in defeat. âLook, truthfully, Iâm not used to meeting that kind of resistance to my...suggestions.â
Cleo sighed. âWhat the hell did you suggest?!â She waved her hand before he could answer. âNever mind that right now, Emma was furious. I need to know what you intend to do about it.â
âDoes...does she accept apology flowers?â
Cleo laughed. âThe only time Iâve ever seen her accept a bouquet she threw it right into the trash.â
âOh.â
âTo be fair, they werenât even hers. She thought they were, but turns out they were for poor Ariel,â she confided.
He let out a surprised chuckle. âEmma is a tough lass, isnât she?â
âShe is. And Iâll tell you more or less what I told her. You need to find a way to work with her. I donât care if you think her writing is garbage--which it isnât--but sheâs one of our most successful authors, so youâll keep an eye on her. Apologize, and get in good with her so you can bring out another bestseller from her.â
âI...yes,â he said. Sensing this brief interview was nearing its end, he got up. When he reached the doorway, he stopped. âOne thing--how is it you werenât assigned to work with her? It seems like itâd be an easier fit.â
She tilted her head. âA question Iâve wondered about, too.â
He paused a moment, wondering if she would elaborate. She didnât so he nodded. âWell, then. Iâll do what I can.â He moved to exit the office.
âKillian?â
âYes?â
âThereâs a diner she likes. Out in West Roxbury. She worked there all the time on her first book. Itâs called Grannyâs.â
This time, his nod to Cleo was one of gratitude.
&&&
It took almost a day for him to work up the nerve to go to Grannyâs and a further three and half days staking out the place before he contrived to âaccidentallyâ run into Emma.
He had become very familiar with the greasy diner food, and the owner of the place knew him by name at this point. His insides hurt and he was overly caffeinated, but if his plan worked, it would be worth it.
On the Tuesday he finally saw Emma enter, Killian sat up higher. He was on his second cup of coffee, practically vibrating with the cursed fake energy that only came from caffeine.
She clearly had a destination in mind, and after a quick âHey, Ruby,â she headed toward the back. Stopping only when she saw him, she narrowed her eyes at him. âYou.â
âAye, me. Lovely to see you, Miss Swan. I trust youâve received my emails?â
She stared at him, seemingly contemplating his motives, his presence...probably his very existence, if Killian were honest with himself.
âYeah. Sorry I havenât responded. Havenât figured out what I wanted to say yet.â
âWell, it appears weâre stuck working together, so...Iâd like to smooth things over, if youâre amenable.â He gestured toward the other side of the booth.
âNothing else to add to that, pal?â She cocked her head at him.
âErm, sorry? I apologize for my words, though I stand by my methodology.â
She continued to stare at him a few beats before she slid into the booth. âThatâs fine,â she said once she settled in, âbut if youâre going to continue to be an ass, this isnât going to work.â
âAnd it wonât work if you stubbornly resist everything I say.â
They exchanged wary looks, and Killian felt a pang of something a lot like loss at the thought that any flirtation seemed out of the question. He had enjoyed those fleeting moments when she first walked into his office and  had stared at him like he was a popsicle and it was a hot, hot day outside.
He intentionally leaned back, hoping he looked as confident as he wished he felt. âWell, if thatâs settled, can I buy you a coffee? Or perhaps something stronger?â
âWhy?â
âAs a toast to our new partnership, Swan.â
She gave a deep sigh, âFine. Get me a coffee, then.â
He gestured to the waitress and ordered them both coffee, his gut churning at the idea of consuming more of the stuff. As soon as the server poured their drinks, he found himself studying the dark roast, praying he could come up with an approach that worked with Emma.
âSo, darling, what are some things I can do to make this collaboration more palatable to you?â
âFor starters, donât fucking call me darling. Itâs condescending as hell, and the only thing it accomplishes is making me want to punch you.â
He snorted. âVery well, no more âdarlingsâ. Iâm assuming any other endearments are out, too. Anything else?â
She bit her bottom lip as she pondered the question. Killian found his gaze drawn to it, and he had to tear himself away from the frightfully imaginative things his mind conjured.
âWhy?â
He froze at the unexpected question and looked back up to catch her eye. âWhat do you mean?â
âWhy did you come here? And why are you working with me?â
He offered her his most charming, rakish grin. âWhile I didnât request you, lo-Swan, I canât say I regret it.â
âThat doesnât answer my question, buddy,â she said, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
He frowned at her. âOkay, I hate being called âbuddyâ.â He leant forward. âCan we just...impose a moratorium on nicknames of any kind?â
âSure, but I also want an answer.â She took a pointed sip of her coffee.
âGod above, youâre like a dog with a bone. Is this an interrogation?â
She raised an eyebrow at him. âNo, but getting information is an important part of writing.â
âTo be sure, lass, butâŚâ He sighed and leaned back in the booth. âMy apologies--Emma. Truthfully, I donât know. Perhaps Mr. Booth, and Ms. Mills, naturally, wanted someone partnered exclusively with you.â
âI need that much work, do I?â
He hesitated. âIâd think of it more as you being a valuable investment.â
She snorted. âFlattering, real flattering.â
He grinned. âI aim to please.â
An eyeroll greeted him at that. âIâm sure. But anyway, I get the feeling youâre not telling me something, and I really donât appreciate being left in the dark.â
âI donât know what you mean.â
âWhatever,â she said with a wave of her hand. âListen, Iâll be working on my book, and Iâll get you an outline and first chapter soon. But weâre not going to be pals, and I wonât compromise my integrity or my style just because you bought me a fucking cup of coffee.â
Killian stared at her, his mouth slightly agape, and for once in his life he felt speechless.
Emma wasnât done rendering him shocked and incapable of using words. âAlso?â She stood and tapped on the edge of the table. âYou should have bought me hot chocolate if you wanted to impress me or get me to talk.â
Then she left before he even had a chance to formulate a reply.
&&&
Killian tried to tamp down the surge of mixed emotions he was dealing with. This was the second time in one week the same woman had walked away from him, and he was annoyed. He had been the one who was supposed to question her, to figure out what made her tick. Instead, she had managed to twist things around both times and, somehow, he had managed to reveal more of his hand than he had intended.
She had known he was hiding something. He wasnât sure how, or why it bothered him so much. Everyone had an agenda, and Emma had to know he would have one.
But how she guessed it might not be a straightforward editorial one, he couldnât imagine.
There was a part of him that he was trying to push away, though. A part of him that respected Emma, much to his surprise. She had called him on his bluffs and bullshit, and she followed her convictions and spoke her mind.
Unbidden, a thought came to him: Milah would like her.
He sighed. That was a road he didnât want to go down. Nodding at Ruby and ignoring her smirk, he asked for the check.
âI knew you werenât here for the salads,â she said, dropping the ticket down on the table.
He raised an eyebrow and gave her the smarmiest once-over he could manage. âMaybe I was hoping for different fare.â
She rolled her eyes. âAnd yet, youâre the one who got devoured. Chewed up and spit out, more like. It was a treat to see.â
âAh...you know Emma, then.â
âSheâs one of my best friends. Like a sister to me.â
âOf fucking course,â he groaned.
She grinned wolfishly at him. âDonât be afraid to come back. I enjoyed the show.â
He dropped enough cash to cover his bill along with a generous tip and clenched his jaw, walking out of the diner.
How humiliating.
As he walked the couple of blocks to the T, he pushed his shoulders back, trying to let go of some of his tension. Once again, he could almost hear Milah.
âSo dramatic, Killian. She bested you, and youâre just whinging about it now. Donât be petulant, my love.â
He felt his insides twist at the realization that Milah would likely not approve of his dealings with August. It might not be precisely illegal, at least on his end--but it was unscrupulous and reprehensible.
He had only known Emma about a week, but wasnât sure he could keep on doing this. Perhaps it would be best to be above-board from here on out, focus on his actual job.
Killian grimaced, thinking of all he owed August. Hating himself and holding back a snarl, he pulled out his phone and dialed Augustâs number.
He picked up after two rings.
âAugust? I got things a little more under control with Emma. She should be sending me her materials soon, and then we can figure out what else needs to be doneâŚâ