cosette141

[cosette141]

I'm so glad you like it so far!! :D I have a little bit of the next part written so I'm hoping to update it within the next week or two! <3

You, Me, and Who You Used to Be | CS Fic (CSSS 2024 Gift for BelovedCreation)

Merry Christmas!!

I'm your Santa this year!! :) 🎄🎄

Using your prompts of pining, Enchanted Forest, and angst with a happy ending, I give you:

Summary: (CS movie divergence) After getting her parents back on track, Emma’s magic returns. But before she can conjure a portal home, Killian is abducted. Alone in a world she knows nothing about and with no idea how to find Killian, Emma enlists the only person—or rather, pirate—who would be as motivated to save Killian as she is. However… Killian’s past may just be what destroys the future. CS

AO3

Words (so far): 5k+

NOTE: This is currently only the first chapter of this fic - long story short, the fic I spent weeks on just was not coming together, so I last minute changed to this one. It was an idea I had written the beginning of years ago that I remembered when I was trying to find something to align with the prompts you gave me :D so I knew it would be perfect to write for your gift!! I spent the past week working super hard on this trying to get it finished for you in time, but it was getting so rushed and you do not deserve a rushed gift!! So I decided to give you the first 5k words now, and I'll be updating it with the rest over the coming weeks! :)

Chapter One (under the cut!)

A/N: Story context: This is a canon divergence of the CS movie, which begins right after Emma gets the wand from Rumplestiltskin. (He does not send him to his vault of do-not-touch things in this version tho. We’ll pretend Elsa gets to Storybrooke some other way lol. I’ll also be ignoring Marian, which, the show pretty much did when it just ended up being Zelena anyway lol. 

Emma smiled at the faintly glowing wand in her fingers, feeling the warmth of the return of her magic, lighting a glow in the vast dining room of Rumplestiltskin’s castle. 

Everything was back on track.

Including herself.

Perhaps she had been trying to take the easy way out, blocking her magic from returning so she could go back to New York with no ties left behind. 

But more than anything, it was Killian’s smile now that made the warmth inside her grow even more, and if it wasn’t her imagination, made the wand spark a little brighter.

“It works,” whispered Emma, staring at the wand in awe, eyes snapping to Killian. “My magic is back!”

“I knew you could do it, love.” said Killian softly, a relief in his eyes, like it was for both the possibility of getting back home, and for the fact that he still blamed himself for her powers being taken in the first place. 

“Ah, the Savior, of course,” murmured Rumplestiltskin from his perch on the edge of his dining table. “I should have known you would have magic of your own.”

Emma suddenly realized just how much Rumplestiltskin knew. “Is it a problem that you know…?”

“It would be,” he agreed, but lifted his hand, where a potion bottle materialized. “However, I have spent the past few hours mixing myself a Forgetting Potion.”

Emma smiled. “Good. Well, let’s do this, then.” She then lifted the wand, about to attempt to bring forth the time portal.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Rumplestiltskin, jumping down and pushing her hand with the wand down. “Not in here. You might bring any number of my possessions with you.”

Emma winced, eyes finding the myriad of scary-looking things in the castle, wondering just how catastrophic that could be. 

She looked from Killian’s raised eyebrow to Rumplestiltskin. “So where do we—“

But not a second later, Rumplestiltskin’s castle was gone, and suddenly they were outside. Trees, greenery and blue sky replaced the walls of the Dark One’s abode. They weren’t too far from the town below, and not far off was the sea. But they were in an empty enough area of the forest that no one should see anything, and nothing should come with them.

 “Well,” said Killian, giving her another smile, “ready, there, Swan?”

Emma nodded. She lifted the wand again, concentrating on her magic, on the emotion in her chest, bright and raw. The tiny flicker of a portal, like a zipper drawn in the very fabric of the air, appeared before them. 

Killian grinned. “That’s it, lo—” 

He was cut off with a grunt, and Emma’s eyes snapped to him, her concentration broken and the tiny beginnings of the portal fizzled back out of existence. 

Emma’s heart stopped. 

They were no longer alone. 

A burly, muscled man had his arm around Killian’s neck in a chokehold, his other arm pinning Killian’s left arm to his side. Killian let out an angry, surprised snarl, jerking hard against the grip. 

“Hook!” cried Emma, jamming the wand in her back pocket to hide it and running toward him, only skidding to a stop when three other thugs suddenly flanked the first.

“Sw—“ began Killian, his right hand scrabbling at the hold around his neck, but his airway was quickly cut off. Red rushed to his face, and Emma’s heart froze.

“Sorry, darlin’,” said the man’s raspy voice. “We got direct orders to bring Captain Hook in. He stole from us last night, and now he gon’ pay. Pretty stupid to show yer face in the open like this, without yer crew, no less.” A dark chuckle. “Shoulda sailed away when he had the chance.” To someone behind him, he shouted, “Lucky catch, men!”

Killian struggled against them, something angry and feral, landing a blow to the man's gut. The man growled and stumbled, and Killian reared back to hit him again until the man snapped, “Stop fightin’ or the wench dies!” That made Killian freeze, staring at her with icy horror. 

For a moment, Emma and Killian stared at each other, and it felt like time stood still.

Panic rushed through Emma's chest.

Magic.

Magic.

But she had no idea how to use her magic.

And if she took even a step forward, she'd get a sword through her in seconds.

Killian grunted as a second thug grabbed him on his other side, ripping Killian's sword from his sheath.

Panic rose even sharper in Emma's chest.

Killian swallowed, eyes locked onto her. “Go—home,” Killian managed, his eyes pleading and broken, with something in them that looked like goodbye, only making Emma’s eyes burn. 

“Hook—!” breathed Emma, running for him, but froze when three swords pointed in her direction, so close to her it made her stumble back, falling to the ground.

And by the time she made it back to her feet, they were gone.

-.-.-.

Dark had fallen.

The air had chilled. 

But none of it gave her the cold dread inside her chest. 

She’d searched for hours.

But those men obviously knew this forest better than she did, and it was easy to get lost in it. 

Too easy.

She let them take him.

Emma kicked herself.

She should have done something.

She should have done something.

She should have been spending all the time back in Storybrooke learning magic instead of shoving it away.

Because now Killian was gone, and it was all her fault.

She got them stuck in the past.

She was the reason Killian stopped trying to free himself from those bastards.

She was the reason that they may never see each other again.

Emma couldn’t stop seeing his eyes. 

The resignation.

The defeat. 

The horrible, utter sadness.

She was now alone, and she’d never felt this alone in her entire life. 

It was one thing to grow up being alone. 

And it was another thing entirely to find people, to fall for people, and to have them ripped from you.

It was an entirely different thing to know what it felt like to not be alone.

And ever since meeting Killian, more or less after he decided to become a part of something , he’d been practically glued to her side. He’d voluntarily gone back to the land he hated more than anywhere, he’d given up his revenge, he’d found her in freaking New York City —an endeavor Emma still didn’t know how he managed to do—and how he managed to find her in a world he knew hardly anything about?

Emma stopped on the path, feeling the chill of the air. 

Even the air felt different in the Enchanted Forest. It felt… unearthly, which, wasn’t exactly off point. The magic in the land seemed to crackle like a charged atmosphere. The animal sounds, the nightly coos and caws were different, and all this different was unsettling and…

She really, really didn’t want to admit she was scared. 

But Emma didn’t have Mary Margaret with her this time. She didn’t have a princess squad to help her through. And, she didn’t have Hook.

Killian, who was god knew where. 

He might even already be—

No , said a firm voice in her head, trying to quell the hair that raised on the back of her neck at the thought. They wouldn’t have kidnapped him if they were going to be quick about it. 

The idea of him suffering at all…

Emma swallowed, hard, trying to shove down the rush of panic that shook her fingers.

How the hell was she supposed to find him?

She was a complete outsider. 

She not only wasn’t from this town, she wasn’t from this world , and she wasn’t from this time, not by a long shot. 

She was trapped thirty years in the past, and Killian could be anywhere. 

“Go home.”

Emma shut her eyes at Killian’s echo.

Go home.

He wanted her to go home.

He wanted her to leave him here, conjure the portal, and go home.

The very fact that he thought she would made her chest hurt, because how could he think she’d leave him here?

But…

“You really thought I’d let you drown?”

“Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain? ”

Here she was thinking how he could possibly think she didn’t care about him, when…

“Do you even care about them? Or anyone in this town?”

He said anyone.

He meant me.

And replaying it all, how could she think he’d know she did?

All she’s done since he saved her in New York, was walk away from him.

But she did care.

She more than cared.

And now, she may never —

No.

Emma opened her eyes, ignoring the burn in them.

Determination set into her face, Emma made up her mind without hesitation. 

There was no way she was leaving here without Killian.

The thought of returning to life without him, living without him…

It felt wrong. 

Something about him in her life just made sense. Even now, she felt like something was missing, and suddenly she was wondering how she ever considered leaving her family, leaving him, to go back to New York. 

“Go home.”

She couldn’t go home when he already became her home.

But… 

How on earth—or, how in the Enchanted Forest—was she supposed to find him?

And before they did something terrible and irreversible to him?

“He stole from us last night. Now he’s gon' pay.”

Emma blinked. 

Killian didn’t steal anything from anyone; she knew he hadn’t. He’d been too concerned with messing up the time continuum.

He hadn’t stolen.

But Emma had a pretty good feeling who had.

And Killian was currently paying for his crime. 

Emma smiled grimly, a plan unfolding in her head. 

She started walking, faster this time.

She just hoped the Jolly Roger was still in port. 

-.-.-.

Emma clung to the shadows when she entered the town. 

Thanks to Rumplestiltskin returning her clothes, she was no longer wearing the ragged dress and cloak that they had stolen, and was back in her jeans and leather jacket. Something that, Killian’s voice reminded her, hasn’t come into vogue, ever. So… she had to be careful. They just fixed the timeline; they cannot ruin it all over again.

But Killian was worth that risk.

As she clung to the dark areas of town, Emma was reminded of a younger her, living on the streets, dodging shadowy corners to pitch black alleyways. It was evening, the sky blackening with an array of stars, but the town still bustled with life, mostly around the taverns. 

Emma passed the tavern she and Killian had found his past-self in, and Emma risked a look inside, but he wasn’t there. 

Her heart quickening, Emma suddenly worried he wasn’t even in town.

She picked up her pace, following the path past-Hook had led her down when he’d been her inebriated guide. 

Emma emerged from the cover of an alley, looking up to see the sea, and ships of all sizes moored at the docks. And among them—

Emma felt relief flood her. 

The Jolly Roger. 

She smiled despite herself, picking up her pace. As she got closer, she could see the crew retracting the anchor—

They were leaving. 

Her heart pounding, Emma began to sprint. 

With grunts of heaving, two members of the Jolly’s crew were lifting the gangplank.

It was halfway up when Emma got to it, flinging herself off the dock and onto it, barely making the jump. She slid down the wood, landing in a heap on the deck. 

“What in the blazes—?!”

The two men nearly dropped the gangplank, but managed to finish shutting it, faster, as if worrying that someone else was going to attempt Emma’s jump. 

Her entire body throbbing from the mistreatment, Emma slowly picked herself up from the deck. She quickly noticed at least a dozen pirates were staring at her in shock. 

But a voice broke through the din, and Emma would recognize it anywhere. 

“Well, you don’t bloody see something like that every day.”

-.-.-.

Despite her protests, Emma had been manhandled by two of the crew members and dragged into the Captain’s Quarters a moment after she’d seen him. He’d witnessed her reckless jump onto his ship, but hadn’t said a word to her yet. 

She was currently in the chair opposite his desk, two burly hands on her shoulders keeping her pinned down, and Hook was in his chair behind the desk, staring at her in silence. 

“What are you doing aboard my ship?” he said finally. 

Emma flicked her eyes to the pirate holding her down, then back to Hook. “I’ll tell you, but only you.”

Hook sighed, then flicked his eyes to the man behind her, giving a minute nod and a slight roll of his eyes. Then, when the door clicked shut, he gave her a pointed look.

Emma let out a breath, her heart beating in a frenzy. This Hook was not half as drunk as he was when they last met. His gaze on her was cold and measured and there was no trace of the softness Killian had now. It unnerved her, this air of danger he held, sitting before her. Waiting. 

But Emma swallowed, trying to remember, this is still Killian. Just… buried under two hundred years of pain and resentment. 

It didn’t make her feel better. 

“I need your help.” said Emma at last, holding his gaze. 

His brow lifted, like that was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “My help?” he echoed, lips twisting a little in amusement. “I’m a pirate captain, lass. You’ve mistaken me for someone who gives. Pirates take.”

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the irony that all he’s done the past two years was give. 

Worry fluttered in her stomach, suddenly wondering if her Killian was all right.

And when did he start being ‘her’ Killian?

Emma let out another breath. “Yeah, that’s actually what brings me here. All I need to know,” said Emma slowly, “is who you stole from last night.” 

She’d thought it through; if she could just get the name or the place of the person who he’d stolen from, she could go find Killian without Hook ever needing to know she was from the future. 

Hook paused. 

Suspicion suddenly gleamed in his eyes. 

He stood, and rounded his desk until he was standing before her. 

The suspicion only deepened in his eyes.

Emma could feel the danger radiate off him like a cologne. 

She was trying not to shrink under his intense gaze when he leaned even closer, his face inches from hers. He searched her eyes.

“You,” he whispered. “I remember you.”

Emma’s heart skipped. “You do?” she breathed. 

She should have known it was irrational to think he meant he remembered knowing her. 

Because his eyes narrowed, coldness in the blue. “You owe me a nightcap, love.”

Emma froze. “Oh,” she said, biting her lip. “Didn’t blame the rum, huh?”

He leaned back slightly, but looked no less predatory. “I’m guessing this is from you as well,” he said, brushing the metal of his hook to his cheek where Killian had hit him. 

Emma winced. “Not exactly—“

He was suddenly in her face again, eyes narrowed, colder than ice. “You were trying to get me drunk. To get on my ship,” he muttered. “Why?”

Oops.

Emma tried to think fast. 

She did not like a version of Killian that scared her, and this one did exactly that. 

As if to prove the point, he raised his hook, tracing her jaw until the tip was underneath her chin, forcing her head up. Emma gasped reflexively, suddenly realizing how bad of an idea this had been. “Tell me,” he hissed, “or this will be rather unpleasant.”

Emma swallowed, trying to stem the rush of fear. To hell with the timeline. “I’m from the future.”

His brow rose sharply, surprise and a little confusion slipping into that cold expression. Clearly time travel was not one of the things he’d expected her to say. 

It was the second time she’d surprised him, and Emma knew he wasn’t an easily surprised man.

Before he could interrupt, she went on, wincing as the sharp tip of his hook stung. “I’m telling you the truth,” she said quickly, fear sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m from… about thirty years in the future. I think. It’s really hard to keep track with all the curses," she finished, which even to her ears sounded like she was crazy.

“Time travel is unheard of.” said Hook, dismissing her whole story.

"You spend two hundred years on an island where time doesn't even exist and this is too crazy for you to imagine?" snapped Emma exasperatedly.

He ignored her. “Now, what are you really doing on my ship? Clearly if you’d gotten what you wanted, you wouldn’t have been daft enough to return.” His eyes looked her up and down, his brow lifting when his eyes reached hers, and Emma glared at him. “And if I had gotten what I wanted, that night would not have ended with you injuring me.” A cold smile. “Well, not in the traditional way, anyway.”

Emma huffed out a breath, almost forgetting just how innuendo-clad he once was. “Look, I’m telling the truth . I need your help to—“ She gasped, the tip of his hook digging slightly deeper. 

“You will tell me what I want to know,” said Hook quietly. He removed his namesake, and Emma winced. “I’ll give you the night to think it over. Lie to me again," his voice lowering, dipping into the personification of danger as his gaze bored into hers, and she tried not to shrink under it, "you’ll be walking the plank in the morning.” He moved away from her, and Emma realized she'd forgotten how to breathe.

“Hook—“ began Emma, but Hook simply barked, “Jenkins!”

The door opened, and one of the men who had dragged her down here walked inside. 

“Take her to the brig.”

Emma’s heart pounded. “No— Hook,” she said quickly as he sat nonchalantly back at his desk. “I need—“

Emma was grabbed from behind and forced out. 

He didn’t look up as they took her. 

But when he thought she was out of sight, she saw him briefly touch his fingers to his lips, something unreadable stirring in his eyes.

-.-.-.-.

Emma waited until she was left alone, and the ship had quieted down enough to suggest the crew was asleep.

They’d bound her hands in front of her, which was their first mistake. 

Feeling a sense of deja vu, Emma felt along the ground until she found something useful. Finding something sharp and thin enough to work, she quickly got to work on the lock to the cage. 

The trouble was opening the door without it creaking, which took her plenty of precious minutes. 

Once free, she left the brig, and quietly made her way to the armory.

It was good that she was familiar with the ship after Neverland. Plenty of hours on the water had her nervous energy getting the better of herself and she’d done some extensive exploring. She’d paced the ship enough to know where its creaky boards were, so she was inside the armory in silence quickly. 

Emma grabbed the first blade she could find—a knife—and freed her hands, then took the gag from her mouth. 

Gripping the knife in her shaking hands, Emma left the armory, walking down the hallway to the door at the very end. 

The Captain’s Quarters. 

Feeling plenty of uncertainty, but needing to know where Killian was, Emma slowly reached for the door handle, glad the ridiculously loud chorus of snoring from the crew covered much of the noise she made. 

Slowly and without breathing, she opened his door. 

Emma shut it just as quietly, and the noise of the snoring was muted. 

Emma turned. 

The cabin was dark. 

And there, lying on his bed, was Hook. Asleep.

She could see him breathe beneath the blanket. 

Carefully, and avoiding every creak in the floor she knew of, Emma crept up to his bed. 

Then, she held the knife an inch from his throat, opening her mouth to wake him.

“Do I need to explain what a nightcap is to you?”

Emma jumped a mile in her skin.

Hook’s eyes were open, and he looked from the knife at his throat to Emma. A raised brow, he deadpanned, “You escaped.”

“You underestimated me.” she countered. He lifted his brow as Emma continued firmly, “I need you to help me.”

“Help me?” he echoed. His eyes flicked from the knife to her eyes. “You’re taking your life in your hands threatening me, lass.” he said dangerously.

“I’m trying to save your life!” snapped Emma.

His brow hitched higher, again flicking his eyes pointedly to the blade, then back at her. 

Emma sighed, removing the knife from his throat. 

He still didn’t move, eyeing her still suspiciously. “How is it you think you’re saving me?” he asked. 

Emma sighed shortly. “Look. I told you I was from the future. I am. I’m from your future. And I didn’t get sent to the past alone.” She took a breath, hoping telling him wouldn’t implode the timeline. But she was scared, she was alone, and without his information, she would never be able to find Killian. She could only hope that after she saved Killian, he’d still exist when they returned to their time. 

Emma sighed. “When I got sent here, you came with me.” she said finally.

Confusion kneaded his brows with honest puzzlement, and for the first time he looked almost like her Killian. “I… what?” he managed.

Emma sighed shortly. “You— future you,” clarified Emma. “You’re here, in the past, too.”

Hook looked lost in thought for a second. Then— “That was bloody real?”

“What was?” asked Emma.

He sat up, regarding her with both suspicion and shock. “The dream I thought I had of you, up until you foolishly returned.” Emma glared at him flatly as he went on, “I saw…”

“Yourself,” finished Emma impatiently. “Yeah. You punched yourself.” At his very perplexed expression, she went on, “I told him—you—it was a bad idea. So, blame yourself.” He blinked in utter confusion. But, at least, he seemed to believe her story. “Look,” said Emma, “we were on our way back to the future when some huge guys kidnapped him because they said he stole something and he needed to ‘pay for it’.” she finished in a bad facsimile of Killian’s abductor’s voice. Her eyes burning into Hook’s, she said, “What did you steal? Who are they and where did they take him?”

“You’re telling me,” said Hook slowly, “that there is a future version of me out here?”

“Yes,” said Emma through gritted teeth. “Now what did you—“

“Tell me, love,” said Hook casually enough, though the coldness in his words was back. “What is my future?”

“I can’t tell you that,” she said exasperatedly. “Already I need to get you a Forgetting Potion to make sure you get to that future.”

He stared at her for a long moment, a million things happening behind guarded eyes. But finally, his brow lifted a fraction. “And I’m just supposed to believe this?" 

Emma groaned. “What proof do you want?” she said impatiently. “Your father abandoned you and Liam; you used to be in the Royal Navy; you became a pirate after what happened to Liam in Neverland; you’re currently on a suicidal mission to kill Rumplestiltskin for taking your hand and Mila—“

“Stop!” 

Emma froze, having been angrily ticking off the trivia on her fingers, to see Hook’s eyes with more emotion than she’s seen from this version of him yet. 

“How do you know all that?” he breathed. For once, his voice lost Hook’s edge, and he sounded like Killian. The danger evaporated from him in seconds, replaced with something almost... lost. “It’s—it's been centuries since—"

“You told me.” said Emma simply. 

“I… told you,” repeated Hook flatly, words rolling off his tongue like something foreign. The edge in his voice swiftly returned as he demanded angrily, “And why the bloody hell would I do that?” 

“How should I know?” snapped Emma, her anxiety getting to her and sharpening her own tone.

He rose to his feet, and Emma did not like the feeling that he was attempting to use his height over hers to intimidate her. He leveled a look at her, with something different in his eyes, something dangerous in a new way. “Tell me one thing, lass," he began, voice casual-sounding, but underlined with something that sent a shiver down her spine, "and maybe I help you.”

“Why wouldn’t you help me?” exclaimed Emma, standing her ground. “You’d be helping you!”

“That remains to be seen.” He stepped toward her, and damn it he didn’t even need the hook to be imposing. “Tell me, lass.” Another step, and Emma felt her back hit the wall, not even realizing she’d been retreating. His gaze bored into hers. “Do I get my revenge?”

Emma swallowed, suddenly feeling a familiar sense of dread as to when the past version of Rumplestiltskin had asked about whether or not he found Neal.

When the silence spread a little too long, she whispered, “Hook—”

“Do I, or not?” he demanded, voice clipped. Cold.

Dangerous.

Emma felt paralyzed.

The Hook—the Killian —standing before her was completely hellbent on getting his revenge. He’s been at it for centuries, and the anger and pain in his eyes overpowered the blue in them, so much so it was hard to remember that Killian and Hook were the same person.

And here, Hook was his vengeance right now.

There was hardly a spark of him.

If she told him the truth, that he not only doesn’t kill his crocodile, but chooses to live peacefully in the same town as the monster? Gives up not only his quest for vengeance, but turns into a hero?

And worse yet, that he lets go of Milah?

For her?

From the amount of anger she’s eliciting from him right now, she doubted he’d be happy to know that information in particular.

So, she decided to tell him the truth.

Or…

Part of it.

“No,” she said finally, watching his brow shift dangerously. “Not yet.”

He searched her eyes, his face like stone. “Not yet?” he repeated, voice low, almost threatening.

Emma swallowed the fear slipping down her spine, hoping she was still as good of a liar as she once was. “Not yet,” she confirmed, which, still, wasn’t a complete lie. She took a breath, holding his gaze, preparing herself. 

And she lied.

“I’m helping you get your revenge in the future,” she said smoothly. “The Dark One is currently living in a realm without magic. He’s vulnerable. I’m helping you get there.” She swallowed, her entire body rigid. Hook was pin-silent as Emma finished, “We accidentally got sent to the past on our way there. That’s why I need you to help me. If you don’t, you will never get your revenge.”

Emma fell quiet, holding her head high, clinging onto confidence she didn’t feel in the slightest.

Killian could read her like an open book.

If this version of him was as perceptive as he comes to be…

If he found her lying to him…

Again …

Emma tried to ignore the fear prickling in her veins.

He held her gaze, pinning her to the spot with his eyes alone. Watching her eyes carefully, his narrowed. 

Finally, he said, “Why are you helping me?”

Emma tried not to flinch at the obvious distaste in his voice. She thought fast, and found something that held nothing but truth. “Because,” she said, “you did me a favor. I’m repaying a debt.”

His brow lifted. “Quite the debt.”

Emma felt something stir in her chest, thinking of all that Killian has done for her. “It was quite the favor,” she said quietly.

His brows kneaded with question, like he wasn’t sure why he would bother to do her a favor.

Emma was quickly becoming irritated with this version of Hook.

“How are you helping me?” he asked then, gaze boring into hers, almost as if he was trying to poke holes into her story to see if it would leak. “Why do I need you?”

It was spoken so carelessly.

And it hurt.

Emma was surprised at the sudden burn behind her eyes.

She’d brushed off Killian’s affections, his obvious devotion to her, more times than she could count. 

And here he was, looking at her like he couldn’t have cared about her less.

How could she have wasted all the time she had with him?

Getting him back now was the longest of long shots, for—and it made sharp fear race down her spine— he could already be dead.

Blinking away the emotion, Emma huffed out a breath, trying not to appear as hurt by his words as she was. “I’ve got Light Magic,” she snapped, making surprise lift his brow. “You’re trying to kill the Dark One. Do the math.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed, danger rolling off him in waves.

Finally, he spoke.

“I help you, and, him,” he muttered, uneasily over what to call his future self, “get back to your time,” he said slowly, “and then I will get what I want most?”

Emma felt the ghost of a smile touch her lips, for she didn’t have to lie for this one. “Yes.” 

He most definitely will. 

-.-.-.-. TBC

@belovedcreation-kitr-headcanon @cssecretsanta2020 @belovedcreation

[cosette141]

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Posted: 02:05 UTC December 27, 2024

[cosette141]

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Posted: 02:05 UTC December 27, 2024

[cosette141]

insp.

[cosette141]

You, Me, and Who You Used to Be | CS Fic (CSSS 2024 Gift for BelovedCreation)

Merry Christmas!!

I'm your Santa this year!! :) 🎄🎄

Using your prompts of pining, Enchanted Forest, and angst with a happy ending, I give you:

Summary: (CS movie divergence) After getting her parents back on track, Emma’s magic returns. But before she can conjure a portal home, Killian is abducted. Alone in a world she knows nothing about and with no idea how to find Killian, Emma enlists the only person—or rather, pirate—who would be as motivated to save Killian as she is. However… Killian’s past may just be what destroys the future. CS

AO3

Words (so far): 5k+

NOTE: This is currently only the first chapter of this fic - long story short, the fic I spent weeks on just was not coming together, so I last minute changed to this one. It was an idea I had written the beginning of years ago that I remembered when I was trying to find something to align with the prompts you gave me :D so I knew it would be perfect to write for your gift!! I spent the past week working super hard on this trying to get it finished for you in time, but it was getting so rushed and you do not deserve a rushed gift!! So I decided to give you the first 5k words now, and I'll be updating it with the rest over the coming weeks! :)

Chapter One (under the cut!)

A/N: Story context: This is a canon divergence of the CS movie, which begins right after Emma gets the wand from Rumplestiltskin. (He does not send him to his vault of do-not-touch things in this version tho. We’ll pretend Elsa gets to Storybrooke some other way lol. I’ll also be ignoring Marian, which, the show pretty much did when it just ended up being Zelena anyway lol. 

Emma smiled at the faintly glowing wand in her fingers, feeling the warmth of the return of her magic, lighting a glow in the vast dining room of Rumplestiltskin’s castle. 

Everything was back on track.

Including herself.

Perhaps she had been trying to take the easy way out, blocking her magic from returning so she could go back to New York with no ties left behind. 

But more than anything, it was Killian’s smile now that made the warmth inside her grow even more, and if it wasn’t her imagination, made the wand spark a little brighter.

“It works,” whispered Emma, staring at the wand in awe, eyes snapping to Killian. “My magic is back!”

“I knew you could do it, love.” said Killian softly, a relief in his eyes, like it was for both the possibility of getting back home, and for the fact that he still blamed himself for her powers being taken in the first place. 

“Ah, the Savior, of course,” murmured Rumplestiltskin from his perch on the edge of his dining table. “I should have known you would have magic of your own.”

Emma suddenly realized just how much Rumplestiltskin knew. “Is it a problem that you know…?”

“It would be,” he agreed, but lifted his hand, where a potion bottle materialized. “However, I have spent the past few hours mixing myself a Forgetting Potion.”

Emma smiled. “Good. Well, let’s do this, then.” She then lifted the wand, about to attempt to bring forth the time portal.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Rumplestiltskin, jumping down and pushing her hand with the wand down. “Not in here. You might bring any number of my possessions with you.”

Emma winced, eyes finding the myriad of scary-looking things in the castle, wondering just how catastrophic that could be. 

She looked from Killian’s raised eyebrow to Rumplestiltskin. “So where do we—“

But not a second later, Rumplestiltskin’s castle was gone, and suddenly they were outside. Trees, greenery and blue sky replaced the walls of the Dark One’s abode. They weren’t too far from the town below, and not far off was the sea. But they were in an empty enough area of the forest that no one should see anything, and nothing should come with them.

 “Well,” said Killian, giving her another smile, “ready, there, Swan?”

Emma nodded. She lifted the wand again, concentrating on her magic, on the emotion in her chest, bright and raw. The tiny flicker of a portal, like a zipper drawn in the very fabric of the air, appeared before them. 

Killian grinned. “That’s it, lo—” 

He was cut off with a grunt, and Emma’s eyes snapped to him, her concentration broken and the tiny beginnings of the portal fizzled back out of existence. 

Emma’s heart stopped. 

They were no longer alone. 

A burly, muscled man had his arm around Killian’s neck in a chokehold, his other arm pinning Killian’s left arm to his side. Killian let out an angry, surprised snarl, jerking hard against the grip. 

“Hook!” cried Emma, jamming the wand in her back pocket to hide it and running toward him, only skidding to a stop when three other thugs suddenly flanked the first.

“Sw—“ began Killian, his right hand scrabbling at the hold around his neck, but his airway was quickly cut off. Red rushed to his face, and Emma’s heart froze.

“Sorry, darlin’,” said the man’s raspy voice. “We got direct orders to bring Captain Hook in. He stole from us last night, and now he gon’ pay. Pretty stupid to show yer face in the open like this, without yer crew, no less.” A dark chuckle. “Shoulda sailed away when he had the chance.” To someone behind him, he shouted, “Lucky catch, men!”

Killian struggled against them, something angry and feral, landing a blow to the man's gut. The man growled and stumbled, and Killian reared back to hit him again until the man snapped, “Stop fightin’ or the wench dies!” That made Killian freeze, staring at her with icy horror. 

For a moment, Emma and Killian stared at each other, and it felt like time stood still.

Panic rushed through Emma's chest.

Magic.

Magic.

But she had no idea how to use her magic.

And if she took even a step forward, she'd get a sword through her in seconds.

Killian grunted as a second thug grabbed him on his other side, ripping Killian's sword from his sheath.

Panic rose even sharper in Emma's chest.

Killian swallowed, eyes locked onto her. “Go—home,” Killian managed, his eyes pleading and broken, with something in them that looked like goodbye, only making Emma’s eyes burn. 

“Hook—!” breathed Emma, running for him, but froze when three swords pointed in her direction, so close to her it made her stumble back, falling to the ground.

And by the time she made it back to her feet, they were gone.

-.-.-.

Dark had fallen.

The air had chilled. 

But none of it gave her the cold dread inside her chest. 

She’d searched for hours.

But those men obviously knew this forest better than she did, and it was easy to get lost in it. 

Too easy.

She let them take him.

Emma kicked herself.

She should have done something.

She should have done something.

She should have been spending all the time back in Storybrooke learning magic instead of shoving it away.

Because now Killian was gone, and it was all her fault.

She got them stuck in the past.

She was the reason Killian stopped trying to free himself from those bastards.

She was the reason that they may never see each other again.

Emma couldn’t stop seeing his eyes. 

The resignation.

The defeat. 

The horrible, utter sadness.

She was now alone, and she’d never felt this alone in her entire life. 

It was one thing to grow up being alone. 

And it was another thing entirely to find people, to fall for people, and to have them ripped from you.

It was an entirely different thing to know what it felt like to not be alone.

And ever since meeting Killian, more or less after he decided to become a part of something , he’d been practically glued to her side. He’d voluntarily gone back to the land he hated more than anywhere, he’d given up his revenge, he’d found her in freaking New York City —an endeavor Emma still didn’t know how he managed to do—and how he managed to find her in a world he knew hardly anything about?

Emma stopped on the path, feeling the chill of the air. 

Even the air felt different in the Enchanted Forest. It felt… unearthly, which, wasn’t exactly off point. The magic in the land seemed to crackle like a charged atmosphere. The animal sounds, the nightly coos and caws were different, and all this different was unsettling and…

She really, really didn’t want to admit she was scared. 

But Emma didn’t have Mary Margaret with her this time. She didn’t have a princess squad to help her through. And, she didn’t have Hook.

Killian, who was god knew where. 

He might even already be—

No , said a firm voice in her head, trying to quell the hair that raised on the back of her neck at the thought. They wouldn’t have kidnapped him if they were going to be quick about it. 

The idea of him suffering at all…

Emma swallowed, hard, trying to shove down the rush of panic that shook her fingers.

How the hell was she supposed to find him?

She was a complete outsider. 

She not only wasn’t from this town, she wasn’t from this world , and she wasn’t from this time, not by a long shot. 

She was trapped thirty years in the past, and Killian could be anywhere. 

“Go home.”

Emma shut her eyes at Killian’s echo.

Go home.

He wanted her to go home.

He wanted her to leave him here, conjure the portal, and go home.

The very fact that he thought she would made her chest hurt, because how could he think she’d leave him here?

But…

“You really thought I’d let you drown?”

“Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain? ”

Here she was thinking how he could possibly think she didn’t care about him, when…

“Do you even care about them? Or anyone in this town?”

He said anyone.

He meant me.

And replaying it all, how could she think he’d know she did?

All she’s done since he saved her in New York, was walk away from him.

But she did care.

She more than cared.

And now, she may never —

No.

Emma opened her eyes, ignoring the burn in them.

Determination set into her face, Emma made up her mind without hesitation. 

There was no way she was leaving here without Killian.

The thought of returning to life without him, living without him…

It felt wrong. 

Something about him in her life just made sense. Even now, she felt like something was missing, and suddenly she was wondering how she ever considered leaving her family, leaving him, to go back to New York. 

“Go home.”

She couldn’t go home when he already became her home.

But… 

How on earth—or, how in the Enchanted Forest—was she supposed to find him?

And before they did something terrible and irreversible to him?

“He stole from us last night. Now he’s gon' pay.”

Emma blinked. 

Killian didn’t steal anything from anyone; she knew he hadn’t. He’d been too concerned with messing up the time continuum.

He hadn’t stolen.

But Emma had a pretty good feeling who had.

And Killian was currently paying for his crime. 

Emma smiled grimly, a plan unfolding in her head. 

She started walking, faster this time.

She just hoped the Jolly Roger was still in port. 

-.-.-.

Emma clung to the shadows when she entered the town. 

Thanks to Rumplestiltskin returning her clothes, she was no longer wearing the ragged dress and cloak that they had stolen, and was back in her jeans and leather jacket. Something that, Killian’s voice reminded her, hasn’t come into vogue, ever. So… she had to be careful. They just fixed the timeline; they cannot ruin it all over again.

But Killian was worth that risk.

As she clung to the dark areas of town, Emma was reminded of a younger her, living on the streets, dodging shadowy corners to pitch black alleyways. It was evening, the sky blackening with an array of stars, but the town still bustled with life, mostly around the taverns. 

Emma passed the tavern she and Killian had found his past-self in, and Emma risked a look inside, but he wasn’t there. 

Her heart quickening, Emma suddenly worried he wasn’t even in town.

She picked up her pace, following the path past-Hook had led her down when he’d been her inebriated guide. 

Emma emerged from the cover of an alley, looking up to see the sea, and ships of all sizes moored at the docks. And among them—

Emma felt relief flood her. 

The Jolly Roger. 

She smiled despite herself, picking up her pace. As she got closer, she could see the crew retracting the anchor—

They were leaving. 

Her heart pounding, Emma began to sprint. 

With grunts of heaving, two members of the Jolly’s crew were lifting the gangplank.

It was halfway up when Emma got to it, flinging herself off the dock and onto it, barely making the jump. She slid down the wood, landing in a heap on the deck. 

“What in the blazes—?!”

The two men nearly dropped the gangplank, but managed to finish shutting it, faster, as if worrying that someone else was going to attempt Emma’s jump. 

Her entire body throbbing from the mistreatment, Emma slowly picked herself up from the deck. She quickly noticed at least a dozen pirates were staring at her in shock. 

But a voice broke through the din, and Emma would recognize it anywhere. 

“Well, you don’t bloody see something like that every day.”

-.-.-.

Despite her protests, Emma had been manhandled by two of the crew members and dragged into the Captain’s Quarters a moment after she’d seen him. He’d witnessed her reckless jump onto his ship, but hadn’t said a word to her yet. 

She was currently in the chair opposite his desk, two burly hands on her shoulders keeping her pinned down, and Hook was in his chair behind the desk, staring at her in silence. 

“What are you doing aboard my ship?” he said finally. 

Emma flicked her eyes to the pirate holding her down, then back to Hook. “I’ll tell you, but only you.”

Hook sighed, then flicked his eyes to the man behind her, giving a minute nod and a slight roll of his eyes. Then, when the door clicked shut, he gave her a pointed look.

Emma let out a breath, her heart beating in a frenzy. This Hook was not half as drunk as he was when they last met. His gaze on her was cold and measured and there was no trace of the softness Killian had now. It unnerved her, this air of danger he held, sitting before her. Waiting. 

But Emma swallowed, trying to remember, this is still Killian. Just… buried under two hundred years of pain and resentment. 

It didn’t make her feel better. 

“I need your help.” said Emma at last, holding his gaze. 

His brow lifted, like that was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “My help?” he echoed, lips twisting a little in amusement. “I’m a pirate captain, lass. You’ve mistaken me for someone who gives. Pirates take.”

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the irony that all he’s done the past two years was give. 

Worry fluttered in her stomach, suddenly wondering if her Killian was all right.

And when did he start being ‘her’ Killian?

Emma let out another breath. “Yeah, that’s actually what brings me here. All I need to know,” said Emma slowly, “is who you stole from last night.” 

She’d thought it through; if she could just get the name or the place of the person who he’d stolen from, she could go find Killian without Hook ever needing to know she was from the future. 

Hook paused. 

Suspicion suddenly gleamed in his eyes. 

He stood, and rounded his desk until he was standing before her. 

The suspicion only deepened in his eyes.

Emma could feel the danger radiate off him like a cologne. 

She was trying not to shrink under his intense gaze when he leaned even closer, his face inches from hers. He searched her eyes.

“You,” he whispered. “I remember you.”

Emma’s heart skipped. “You do?” she breathed. 

She should have known it was irrational to think he meant he remembered knowing her. 

Because his eyes narrowed, coldness in the blue. “You owe me a nightcap, love.”

Emma froze. “Oh,” she said, biting her lip. “Didn’t blame the rum, huh?”

He leaned back slightly, but looked no less predatory. “I’m guessing this is from you as well,” he said, brushing the metal of his hook to his cheek where Killian had hit him. 

Emma winced. “Not exactly—“

He was suddenly in her face again, eyes narrowed, colder than ice. “You were trying to get me drunk. To get on my ship,” he muttered. “Why?”

Oops.

Emma tried to think fast. 

She did not like a version of Killian that scared her, and this one did exactly that. 

As if to prove the point, he raised his hook, tracing her jaw until the tip was underneath her chin, forcing her head up. Emma gasped reflexively, suddenly realizing how bad of an idea this had been. “Tell me,” he hissed, “or this will be rather unpleasant.”

Emma swallowed, trying to stem the rush of fear. To hell with the timeline. “I’m from the future.”

His brow rose sharply, surprise and a little confusion slipping into that cold expression. Clearly time travel was not one of the things he’d expected her to say. 

It was the second time she’d surprised him, and Emma knew he wasn’t an easily surprised man.

Before he could interrupt, she went on, wincing as the sharp tip of his hook stung. “I’m telling you the truth,” she said quickly, fear sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m from… about thirty years in the future. I think. It’s really hard to keep track with all the curses," she finished, which even to her ears sounded like she was crazy.

“Time travel is unheard of.” said Hook, dismissing her whole story.

"You spend two hundred years on an island where time doesn't even exist and this is too crazy for you to imagine?" snapped Emma exasperatedly.

He ignored her. “Now, what are you really doing on my ship? Clearly if you’d gotten what you wanted, you wouldn’t have been daft enough to return.” His eyes looked her up and down, his brow lifting when his eyes reached hers, and Emma glared at him. “And if I had gotten what I wanted, that night would not have ended with you injuring me.” A cold smile. “Well, not in the traditional way, anyway.”

Emma huffed out a breath, almost forgetting just how innuendo-clad he once was. “Look, I’m telling the truth . I need your help to—“ She gasped, the tip of his hook digging slightly deeper. 

“You will tell me what I want to know,” said Hook quietly. He removed his namesake, and Emma winced. “I’ll give you the night to think it over. Lie to me again," his voice lowering, dipping into the personification of danger as his gaze bored into hers, and she tried not to shrink under it, "you’ll be walking the plank in the morning.” He moved away from her, and Emma realized she'd forgotten how to breathe.

“Hook—“ began Emma, but Hook simply barked, “Jenkins!”

The door opened, and one of the men who had dragged her down here walked inside. 

“Take her to the brig.”

Emma’s heart pounded. “No— Hook,” she said quickly as he sat nonchalantly back at his desk. “I need—“

Emma was grabbed from behind and forced out. 

He didn’t look up as they took her. 

But when he thought she was out of sight, she saw him briefly touch his fingers to his lips, something unreadable stirring in his eyes.

-.-.-.-.

Emma waited until she was left alone, and the ship had quieted down enough to suggest the crew was asleep.

They’d bound her hands in front of her, which was their first mistake. 

Feeling a sense of deja vu, Emma felt along the ground until she found something useful. Finding something sharp and thin enough to work, she quickly got to work on the lock to the cage. 

The trouble was opening the door without it creaking, which took her plenty of precious minutes. 

Once free, she left the brig, and quietly made her way to the armory.

It was good that she was familiar with the ship after Neverland. Plenty of hours on the water had her nervous energy getting the better of herself and she’d done some extensive exploring. She’d paced the ship enough to know where its creaky boards were, so she was inside the armory in silence quickly. 

Emma grabbed the first blade she could find—a knife—and freed her hands, then took the gag from her mouth. 

Gripping the knife in her shaking hands, Emma left the armory, walking down the hallway to the door at the very end. 

The Captain’s Quarters. 

Feeling plenty of uncertainty, but needing to know where Killian was, Emma slowly reached for the door handle, glad the ridiculously loud chorus of snoring from the crew covered much of the noise she made. 

Slowly and without breathing, she opened his door. 

Emma shut it just as quietly, and the noise of the snoring was muted. 

Emma turned. 

The cabin was dark. 

And there, lying on his bed, was Hook. Asleep.

She could see him breathe beneath the blanket. 

Carefully, and avoiding every creak in the floor she knew of, Emma crept up to his bed. 

Then, she held the knife an inch from his throat, opening her mouth to wake him.

“Do I need to explain what a nightcap is to you?”

Emma jumped a mile in her skin.

Hook’s eyes were open, and he looked from the knife at his throat to Emma. A raised brow, he deadpanned, “You escaped.”

“You underestimated me.” she countered. He lifted his brow as Emma continued firmly, “I need you to help me.”

“Help me?” he echoed. His eyes flicked from the knife to her eyes. “You’re taking your life in your hands threatening me, lass.” he said dangerously.

“I’m trying to save your life!” snapped Emma.

His brow hitched higher, again flicking his eyes pointedly to the blade, then back at her. 

Emma sighed, removing the knife from his throat. 

He still didn’t move, eyeing her still suspiciously. “How is it you think you’re saving me?” he asked. 

Emma sighed shortly. “Look. I told you I was from the future. I am. I’m from your future. And I didn’t get sent to the past alone.” She took a breath, hoping telling him wouldn’t implode the timeline. But she was scared, she was alone, and without his information, she would never be able to find Killian. She could only hope that after she saved Killian, he’d still exist when they returned to their time. 

Emma sighed. “When I got sent here, you came with me.” she said finally.

Confusion kneaded his brows with honest puzzlement, and for the first time he looked almost like her Killian. “I… what?” he managed.

Emma sighed shortly. “You— future you,” clarified Emma. “You’re here, in the past, too.”

Hook looked lost in thought for a second. Then— “That was bloody real?”

“What was?” asked Emma.

He sat up, regarding her with both suspicion and shock. “The dream I thought I had of you, up until you foolishly returned.” Emma glared at him flatly as he went on, “I saw…”

“Yourself,” finished Emma impatiently. “Yeah. You punched yourself.” At his very perplexed expression, she went on, “I told him—you—it was a bad idea. So, blame yourself.” He blinked in utter confusion. But, at least, he seemed to believe her story. “Look,” said Emma, “we were on our way back to the future when some huge guys kidnapped him because they said he stole something and he needed to ‘pay for it’.” she finished in a bad facsimile of Killian’s abductor’s voice. Her eyes burning into Hook’s, she said, “What did you steal? Who are they and where did they take him?”

“You’re telling me,” said Hook slowly, “that there is a future version of me out here?”

“Yes,” said Emma through gritted teeth. “Now what did you—“

“Tell me, love,” said Hook casually enough, though the coldness in his words was back. “What is my future?”

“I can’t tell you that,” she said exasperatedly. “Already I need to get you a Forgetting Potion to make sure you get to that future.”

He stared at her for a long moment, a million things happening behind guarded eyes. But finally, his brow lifted a fraction. “And I’m just supposed to believe this?" 

Emma groaned. “What proof do you want?” she said impatiently. “Your father abandoned you and Liam; you used to be in the Royal Navy; you became a pirate after what happened to Liam in Neverland; you’re currently on a suicidal mission to kill Rumplestiltskin for taking your hand and Mila—“

“Stop!” 

Emma froze, having been angrily ticking off the trivia on her fingers, to see Hook’s eyes with more emotion than she’s seen from this version of him yet. 

“How do you know all that?” he breathed. For once, his voice lost Hook’s edge, and he sounded like Killian. The danger evaporated from him in seconds, replaced with something almost... lost. “It’s—it's been centuries since—"

“You told me.” said Emma simply. 

“I… told you,” repeated Hook flatly, words rolling off his tongue like something foreign. The edge in his voice swiftly returned as he demanded angrily, “And why the bloody hell would I do that?” 

“How should I know?” snapped Emma, her anxiety getting to her and sharpening her own tone.

He rose to his feet, and Emma did not like the feeling that he was attempting to use his height over hers to intimidate her. He leveled a look at her, with something different in his eyes, something dangerous in a new way. “Tell me one thing, lass," he began, voice casual-sounding, but underlined with something that sent a shiver down her spine, "and maybe I help you.”

“Why wouldn’t you help me?” exclaimed Emma, standing her ground. “You’d be helping you!”

“That remains to be seen.” He stepped toward her, and damn it he didn’t even need the hook to be imposing. “Tell me, lass.” Another step, and Emma felt her back hit the wall, not even realizing she’d been retreating. His gaze bored into hers. “Do I get my revenge?”

Emma swallowed, suddenly feeling a familiar sense of dread as to when the past version of Rumplestiltskin had asked about whether or not he found Neal.

When the silence spread a little too long, she whispered, “Hook—”

“Do I, or not?” he demanded, voice clipped. Cold.

Dangerous.

Emma felt paralyzed.

The Hook—the Killian —standing before her was completely hellbent on getting his revenge. He’s been at it for centuries, and the anger and pain in his eyes overpowered the blue in them, so much so it was hard to remember that Killian and Hook were the same person.

And here, Hook was his vengeance right now.

There was hardly a spark of him.

If she told him the truth, that he not only doesn’t kill his crocodile, but chooses to live peacefully in the same town as the monster? Gives up not only his quest for vengeance, but turns into a hero?

And worse yet, that he lets go of Milah?

For her?

From the amount of anger she’s eliciting from him right now, she doubted he’d be happy to know that information in particular.

So, she decided to tell him the truth.

Or…

Part of it.

“No,” she said finally, watching his brow shift dangerously. “Not yet.”

He searched her eyes, his face like stone. “Not yet?” he repeated, voice low, almost threatening.

Emma swallowed the fear slipping down her spine, hoping she was still as good of a liar as she once was. “Not yet,” she confirmed, which, still, wasn’t a complete lie. She took a breath, holding his gaze, preparing herself. 

And she lied.

“I’m helping you get your revenge in the future,” she said smoothly. “The Dark One is currently living in a realm without magic. He’s vulnerable. I’m helping you get there.” She swallowed, her entire body rigid. Hook was pin-silent as Emma finished, “We accidentally got sent to the past on our way there. That’s why I need you to help me. If you don’t, you will never get your revenge.”

Emma fell quiet, holding her head high, clinging onto confidence she didn’t feel in the slightest.

Killian could read her like an open book.

If this version of him was as perceptive as he comes to be…

If he found her lying to him…

Again …

Emma tried to ignore the fear prickling in her veins.

He held her gaze, pinning her to the spot with his eyes alone. Watching her eyes carefully, his narrowed. 

Finally, he said, “Why are you helping me?”

Emma tried not to flinch at the obvious distaste in his voice. She thought fast, and found something that held nothing but truth. “Because,” she said, “you did me a favor. I’m repaying a debt.”

His brow lifted. “Quite the debt.”

Emma felt something stir in her chest, thinking of all that Killian has done for her. “It was quite the favor,” she said quietly.

His brows kneaded with question, like he wasn’t sure why he would bother to do her a favor.

Emma was quickly becoming irritated with this version of Hook.

“How are you helping me?” he asked then, gaze boring into hers, almost as if he was trying to poke holes into her story to see if it would leak. “Why do I need you?”

It was spoken so carelessly.

And it hurt.

Emma was surprised at the sudden burn behind her eyes.

She’d brushed off Killian’s affections, his obvious devotion to her, more times than she could count. 

And here he was, looking at her like he couldn’t have cared about her less.

How could she have wasted all the time she had with him?

Getting him back now was the longest of long shots, for—and it made sharp fear race down her spine— he could already be dead.

Blinking away the emotion, Emma huffed out a breath, trying not to appear as hurt by his words as she was. “I’ve got Light Magic,” she snapped, making surprise lift his brow. “You’re trying to kill the Dark One. Do the math.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed, danger rolling off him in waves.

Finally, he spoke.

“I help you, and, him,” he muttered, uneasily over what to call his future self, “get back to your time,” he said slowly, “and then I will get what I want most?”

Emma felt the ghost of a smile touch her lips, for she didn’t have to lie for this one. “Yes.” 

He most definitely will. 

-.-.-.-. TBC

@belovedcreation-kitr-headcanon @cssecretsanta2020 @belovedcreation

[cosette141]

Hi, it's your CS Secret Santa!

And Happy (belated) Birthday! Wishing you all the best!

Oh yes, I love Living Steel. I've probably watched it over 10 times!

I didn't really like the Eragon movie either, it was kind of chaotic and disjointed, as if it was made in a hurry. My son (who is a big fan of the books by the way) also says that the movie doesn't come close to the magic of the books at all. It's great that there will be a series, I hope they try their best and don't stray too far from the original material, as has often happened with book series lately.

Thanks for the playlist, I'll definitely check it out.

My favorite CS related song is I don't wanna believe by Hinder

And another question: What do you like modern AU, fantasy AU, crossover or something else?

Most of your gifts are already ready, but there is always time to add something at the last minute.

❤️❄️❤️☃️❤️🎄

hi santa!!

Aww thanks so much!! <3

Yeah, they really did phone in the Eragon movie lol. I think their excuse was that they wanted to make it a 1-time movie so they changed up the plot so that it could be "resolved" all at once, but I agree!! It definitely had none of the charm that the books had! Haha I agree with that too, I hope that the tv show might be good but I don't have high hopes for it lol.

Awww I just listened to that Hinder song, it's so them!! <3 <3

Hahah I'm gonna sound so boring lol but I'm actually more of a canon lover than an AU lover, but I love canon divergent stuff! I don't mind AUs if the characters have the same personalities and backstories though :D for example there was this fic called "Rebels on the Run" that took place when Emma was I think around 20? And in that universe, she was living the same life except Neal didn't show up, and instead, Killian fell through a portal to Emma's world right after he lost his hand, and their love story started there, rather than 10 years later. (The story eventually does tie into the curse and everything, but it was such a cool twist!) But anyway hahah so those are the kinds of AUs I like :D I guess you could more just call it suuper canon divergent hahah. I also don't mind crossovers when they make sense!! I was actually writing a Tangled/OUAT crossover a few years ago that I totally forgot to finish hahah xD But if any of your gifts are AU-related, thats totally okay!!! I will love anything you make!! <3 <3

Eee I'm so excited!! Thank you santa, I can't wait to see what you have in store!! <3 <3

[cosette141]

Hi, it's your CS Secret Santa again!

Oh I love Finding Nemo, Real Steel, Two Week's Notice, Mamma Mia. Valentine's day is great! I really like the movie New Year's Eve. It is built in the same way as Valentine's Day and has the same vibe. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it.

I'm huge Harry Potter fan, I have the Eragon series in my library, but it's still waiting for its turn. A new book in the series has recently been released.

Do you have a particular song (or songs) that you associate with CS? I love adding lyrics to my work and it would be nice to add something you love.

❤️❄️❤️☃️❤️🎄

You've seen Real Steel!?? I feel like everyone I mention that to has never heard of it! 💕💕 I never thought I could love a movie about fighting robots so much, and they made it sooo heartwarming :D

Oh yes!!! I forgot about New Years Day! I remember being so excited to see it after the success of Valentines Day, it was so adorable too!

Ooh!! And you know what's so funny, I looked up the new Eragon book you mentioned cause I didn't know about it (it's been about a decade or more since I read the series) and I just saw that they announced Disney is making an Eragon TV show lol! Gosh I hope they do it justice lol, the Eragon movie they did was terrible XD

Ooh I love that question!! YES I have songs I associate with CS hahah XD The song I listened to a lot when writing a fic called Begin Again was this song "Sailor's Heart" by Zyke. (Linked to Spotify!) It's just sooo them :)

And I make fanvids a lot, and I made some for CS and these songs I felt fit them sooooo well :D https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLuvMF6yceQ7MpXZYJZfeL3-U6HN1uqiGk&si=sD4eFosGK5Eu9LRl

Do you have any CS songs?? You've gotta :D ;)

Thanks for the ask, Santa!! It was also a great birthday present for today hehe! 💕💕

[cosette141]

Ho-Ho-Ho! CS Secret Santa here!

I've been a fan of the series since the beginning. When I first saw the trailer, I was sure that this was my kind of story. Where I live, they only aired the first season along with the international broadcast, and the following seasons were aired with a huge delay, sometimes a whole year. I couldn't wait that long and wanted to watch along with everyone else, and I had to look for all sorts of options to be able to watch online.

I also started to shipp CS during the third season - The Neverland Adventure. Their first kiss won me over to the cause. Season 3 is my favorite of all.

Favorite moments.... oh there are so many, but let's narrow it down to 5 favorites:

5. ...and I'm always a gentleman

4. Muscle memory

3. First kiss

2. Middlemist kiss

1. (all time favorite) You traded your ship for me?

Two of my favorite things are movies and books, so I was wondering which is your favorite movie/movies (not Christmas) and which is your favorite book/books. (I realize this is a hard question especially if you're a fan of these things like me). Do you have a favorite genre for movies and books?

🎄🎄🎄

hi santa!! :D

yesss season 3 was the BEST <3 <3 I love pining CS hahha. Those moments were all so perfect!!

Oh you're totally right, that is an impossible question hahah theres so many XD

Movies!

Valentine's Day (it's got such a huge A-list cast and they somehow wrote the most adorable story to go with it!)

Monte Carlo (with Selena Gomez)

The Parent Trap (Lindsay Lohan)

Finding Nemo

Ella Enchanted

Real Steel (Hugh Jackman)

Two Week's Notice (Sandra Bullock)

School of Rock (Jack Black!!)

Enchanted

Mamma Mia (which funny enough I just watched a few hours ago for the first time in years haha)

Books!

The Mediator (series) by Meg Cabot

Harry Potter!

Eragon (The Inheritance Cycle series) by Christopher Paolini

Alex Rider by Anthony Horowitz (I devoured these books in middle school and high school!)

If you can sense a pattern, I tended to gravitate toward book series rather than standalones hahah. It's also why I love TV more than movies usually haha, I love when stories are really long and so many storylines get explored :D

Do we have any favorites that overlap?? :)

My favorite genre is probably action/adventure, comedy and romance when it's done really well (like captain swan) :D my favorite trope is 1000% hurt/comfort and fluff!!

[cosette141]

Merry Christmas, love.

[cosette141]

Hi, it’s your CS Secret Santa again!

I like those songs too. I haven't seen Holiday in handcuffs, but I'll definitely correct that mistake.

My favorite Christmas movies are Love Actually and Die Hard 😁, as well as Arthur Christmas and The Polar Express. As for Christmas songs, they are many: Santa Baby, Driving home for Christmas, I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, Have yourself a happy little Christmas, Last Christmas, Please come home for Christmas, It's starting to look a lot like Christmas ... I can go on 😄

And here are my next questions. How long have you been a part of CS fandom. What drew you to CS and what are your favorite CS moments.

❤️🎁❤️🎄❤️⛄️

santa!!! hiii! :)

hahaha xD I think you'll like holiday in handcuffs if you like CS! It's an enemies to lovers movie :) hehe

awww yes! And now see I've heard about Die Hard sooooo many times but still haven't yet seen it lol! I'll have to correct that mistake too XD

I've been in the CS fandom since 2021 when my friend and I were in the pandemic stuck in different cities, so we would watch movies over video chat and she wanted to show me OUAT for CS, and I'm so glad she did! Falling in love with captain swan during the pandemic was so awesome for me, it really filled the void I had and helped so much with all the isolation and stuff, especially to meet so many other CS fans online too :)

So funny enough I didn't start to ship CS until Neverland! I think it was during the episodes where we were seeing more of Emma's and Killian's backstories and vulnerability that I was like "omg they're like two pieces of a puzzle!" I think what made me love them so much was just that - how much they fit, and how much they help each other grow and be themselves, and what one is missing the other has, and I just love them. It's like they're broken apart but whole together and i just loooove that :))

My favorite CS moment... it's all the cute quiet little moments. I love all the hugs, like the ones in White Out and the one in the time travel episode, and when Emma finds him in the Underworld <3 I definitely love the time travel episodes the best, but right next to that is when Killian finds Emma in NYC haha. I always wished that part was more episodes haha. Most of the fics I write are of softer moments that most shows that have a lot of plot don't have time for, which is totally understandable, but I definitely wanted more haha. If only I could draw or animate cause I'd love to *see* those moments in my head more than only be able to write them as fics hahah. But I guess I'll have to settle with imagining them lol XD

Were you watching OUAT as it was airing or were you late to the party like me? XD What are your favorite moments???

[cosette141]

Ho ho ho! It's your CS Secret Santa!! I hope you are doing well! I'm look forward to get to know you a little bit in the coming weeks and creating something for you! So here's my first question do you have a favorite Christmas movie or Christmas song?

hii santa!! :D i hope you're doing well too! <3

yayyy im so excited! :)

oooooh hmmmm..

Christmas movies: The Santa Clause (tim allen) - the first one! But I love the 2nd one too :D, and that's probably tied with the movie "Holiday in Handcuffs" with melissa joan hart!

And for the christmas song.. probably "Where Are You Christmas" by Faith Hill, but I also love the new-ish one "Santa Can't You Hear Me" that Kelly Clarkson & Ariana Grande did :D

what are yours?? 👀

thanks santa!! :)

[cosette141]

happy thanksgiving :D

It's the Thought that Counts (Leverage Fanfic) | Thanksgiving Story

Fandom: Leverage Author: cosette141 Words: 1631

Summary: When Eliot gets hurt and can't cook Thanksgiving dinner, the team gives cooking a try. It's the thought that counts, right? Happy Thanksgiving!

AO3

a/n: takes place during OG Leverage season 3

(story under the cut!)

Everyone stood in Nate's kitchen, looking toward a prone Eliot on Nate's couch.

It was Thanksgiving Day.

The plan had been simple: finish up the job they were working on in the morning, then reconvene at Nate's apartment where Eliot would cook them Thanksgiving dinner, as he'd been doing the past two years.

But… as usual, things didn't quite go as planned.

The con was completed successfully, but not without a hiccup; Eliot had gotten into a fight with a very well-trained security guard, who ended up pushing Eliot down a flight of stairs.

The stairs ended up causing Eliot a concussion and dislocated shoulder, which was set back into place that morning and now resided in a sling over his chest.

Just a handful of minutes ago they got home and Eliot had passed out on the couch.

Looking away from the hitter, the rest of the team looked back at each other.

It was Parker who broke the silence. "We should make dinner."

Three shocked eyes turn to her. "Uh," said Hardison. "What?"

"We should make dinner," repeated Parker simply. "Eliot can't cook with one arm." A blink. "We should make dinner."

"Parker," began Nate.

"One of us has to know how to cook," said Parker with a scrunched nose.

All heads turn toward Sophie.

Her brows shot up. "Me?" When they only kept staring, she leveled them with an annoyed glare. "What? Just because I'm a woman, you think I know how to cook a meal like that?"

From their stares, yes they did.

"Well, I don't," she said firmly, crossing her arms. "I grew up with people who cooked for us, and grifted everyone else in my life into either cooking or buying me a meal. I don't cook."

Parker deflated a little.

"What about you?" asked Hardison to Nate. "You weren't really a stay-at-home dad," at the worddadNate shifted a little, and the three of them tried not to notice. Gently, Hardison tried, "Did you pick anything up from Maggie?"

Nate laughed a little. "Maggie? No. She wasn't much of a cook herself. I mean, I can make grilled cheese and French toast like no tomorrow.. those were Sam's favorites." His eyes clouded a little and the others fidgeted where they stood. Nate shook it away. "But, ah… no. You put a turkey in front of me, I don't know what I'd do with it."

"We could order a thanksgiving meal from a restaurant," said Hardison, reaching for his phone.

"No!" said Parker firmly. Hardison stopped. "Eliot says that's not Thanksgiving. He told me Thanksgiving is about showing your appreciation for people through food." She leveled a strong gaze with the hacker. "Not restaurants."

The four of them stood for a moment, letting the fact that Eliot Spencer appreciates them sink in until Hardison pulled out his phone. He typed a little on it and said, "Ya know what? It's fine. None of us can cook. But here…" He flipped around his phone to show a screen of a YouTube video titled: Thanksgiving Dinner For Dummies. He grinned. "And this is why this is the age of the geek, baby."

Eliot's head pounded.

At first, he thought it was the remnants of his concussion headache. He knew it wasn't a bad concussion, only minor, but this didn't feel like that kind of a headache. This felt like—

"Aw, crap, what'd I just do—"

Yup, that was it.

A Hardison headache.

The hacker's voice floated in, along with the clatter of something to a counter. More sounds mixed in, actually—an electric mixer itself—crinkling bags and boxes, beeps and creaks of un-oiled hinges, and the cross of chatter—no, make that bickering—between Hardison and Sophie.

But as bad as the voices were for his headache, it was nothing compared to the smell.

Something was burning. Actually, several things, by how pungent it was. There was the distinct smell of burning plastic in there as well, among burning of meat, potatoes—a horrible burning smell—and cranberries.

Eliot finally wrenched open his eyes, finding himself staring at the back of Nate's couch.

His eyes stung a little and he coughed, both from the waft of smoke coming from the kitchen and the distinct cutting-onions thing going on in the air.

Not able to take any of it any longer, he levered himself up on the arm he could move and propped himself up on it, looking over the back of the couch.

Eliot Spencer has seen many terrifying, horrendous things in his life.

But nothing was quite as bad as the scene before him.

Nate's kitchen was a mess.

Pots and pans littered every counter, some overturned, and for whatever reason, one's contents were lightly on fire.

The stove was covered with pans and the oven was open, and both Sophie and Hardison were leaning over it. A thin trail of gray smoke trailed into their faces and they were arguing about something.

Parker was stirring something in a pot with the mixer, so close to the metal of it that it made a loud clanging sound that made Eliot wince for both his ears and for the safety of Nate's nonstick pan, especially when Parker looked toward Hardison and Sophie and said, "I think the mashed potatoes are done! They're finally blue."

And over at his dining room table, Nate was sitting in a chair, a drink in one hand and using the other to rub at his temples.

Eliot blinked.

"What the hell is goin' on?" demanded Eliot, loud enough to be heard over the mixer and Hardison and Sophie's bickering.

The noise silenced and each head looked over toward him.

Parker was the only one whose face lit up. "Eliot!" She put down the pan and skipped over to him. "We're making Thanksgiving dinner!"

Eliot blinked.

He slowly took in the mess of Nate's kitchen, and could pull out faint scents (minus the scorching) of traditional thanksgiving dishes. Even Nate's dining room table was all set up with five plates, napkins and silverware. The oven door closed and Eliot looked back over to see Hardison and Sophie handling a very-black turkey on a cookie sheet.

Two sheepish grins, one amused grin, and one bright and proud grin were shot his way.

Eliot worked to find his voice. "You guys…cooked?"

"Well," said Hardison, as he and Sophie put the "turkey" down on the counter. "With your arm all messed up it woulda been really hard for you to cook for us this year. And you were really tired and we didn't wanna wake you…"

Parker smiled wide. "And you deserve it!"

Not in any of the years since he's left home has someone cooked him a meal. Well, outside of the sludge they served in the prisons and dungeons from his darker days. Even on dates,hewas the one who cooked, and those relationships never lasted long to begin with. But Thanksgiving dinner? Meeting the team had been the first time he's ever cooked one, using the old recipes he learned from watching his mama as a kid.

After meeting the team, he'd cooked for them because they needed someone to feed them something better than the crap they ate. And he'd been heartbroken to hear that Parker had never celebrated Thanksgiving, Hardison and Sophie hadn't since they'd left home as kids, and that Nate hadn't since his son died.

So when he got hurt, he was more upset about not being able to cook than any of the physical pain. But this was something that happened once a year, and it was one of the only traditions he really cared about.

Seeing the four of them, surrounded by—what would probably be a very inedible—dinner, that they made forhim… was something that really warmed his heart.

It may have simply been the onions or the smoke still lingering in the air, but Eliot felt his eyes burn the smallest bit with tears.

"Dinner's almost ready!" said Parker brightly. "I made your favorite dessert too!" She picked up a dish that looked like a pile of tan goo. It took all of Eliot's self-control not to react badly.

"Uh," he swallowed. "What...what is it?"

Parker looked at him weird. "Duh! It's apple pie." As Eliot tried to hide the shock from his face, she looked back down at the… "pie."

"Oh!" she said, laughing. "It'll probably look more like a pie after it's done boiling."

He was thankful she turned her back then because he wasn't quite sure he could hide the utter horror from his face.

Though, Nate caught it, and Eliot watched his lips twitch into an amused grin.

"How the hell…"

Eliot looked over to see Hardison stabbing a knife into the center of the turkey, and it getting stuck. He tried yanking it out.

"Hardison!" yelled Eliot. "What the hell are you doing?"

Hardison looked up. "What? I'm carving the turkey."

"That's not—" Eliot shut his eyes. He got himself off the couch, making his way over to Hardison. "Who taught you how to hold a knife? What are you—give me that!"

"No, man—you only have one arm! I got it!"

"My one arm is more capable of doing this than both of yours now give me the knife!"

"No!"

Nate watched from his seat at the table. A normal man might worry at watching the two boys wrestle over a rather large knife, but he wasn't a normal man. And this wasn't a normal family.

But it was a family.

His family.

And for that, even as he later had to actually eat the questionable dinner his family made…

He couldn't have been more thankful to have them.

[cosette141]

Hi Ace! :)

Do you have good OUAT whump fanfics? (Or any user if you know good OUAT fanfics)

They can be from any season!

Thank you very much!

Have a good day

I do!! They're gonna be all Killian Jones whump though. Hope that's okay. That's pretty much all I read (minus a few August Booth whump fics)

You Are Not Alone by scientificapricot Summary: Killian is injured in a fight with Zelena’s flying monkeys. However, he finds that he doesn't have to deal with said injuries by himself.

Don't Let Go (Because I Can't Hold it Back Anymore) by cosette141 Summary: (canon divergence for s4 episode "White Out") Rather than Emma and Elsa trapped in the ice cave, Emma is trapped with Killian. They have to keep warm and stay awake as they fight the frigid cold, or their first quiet moment together may very well be their last.

A Snowball's Chance by cosette141 Summary: After Emma rescues Killian from Hades in the Underworld, David and Snow tend to some of Killian's physical wounds, and end up healing emotional ones. (aka, Snow and David acting as parental figures for Killian) hurt/comfort oneshot

The Servant by natascha_ronin Summary: Killian is tortured in the Underworld by a familiar face.

Last Time by thoughshebebbutlitle Summary: The last time he had been in a hospital bed they had been completely different people. She had handcuffed him to the bed then, but now she waited anxiously for him to wake; the rise and fall of his chest was a reassurance that he was still alive.

To Take a Heart by MisfitWriter Summary: Set in Season 3, after the incident in the boathouse. Killian is left on his own. Zelena ambushes him with the intention to take his heart and force him to take Emma's powers. Our pirate is about to prove that there is one thing stronger than any magic...

We're Living in a Desperate Time (We Won't Give Up) by LadyofAvalon Summary: He knew he was in for bad weather when the Crocodile appeared and knocked him out again. It only got worse from there.

You can take the boys out of Neverland by WinkyCutto Summary: The Lost Ones don't like having to live by the rules and Henry and his family are about to find out that bringing them back to Storybrooke may not have been the best idea... Hook whump galore, you have been warned.

Pale by SignoriaSickFic Summary: Set in the 6 weeks of peace in S4. Killian catches a nasty stomach bug and, feeling sick, fails to answer his phone. Enter a worried Emma who finds herself playing nursemaid to her indisposed pirate boyfriend. Warning: mentions of vomiting.

[cosette141]

AHHH I LOVE IT IN ALL ITS ANGSTY GLORY

THANK YOU FOR KEEPING THE BELOVED EVENT ALIVE THIS IS AMAZING <3

For more feels, you got the comic with sound on. ENJOOOOY!! also sorrynotsorry

Captain Swan event: Angsty August by @cosette141

[cosette141]

aHHH

Do you guys remember Captain Swan event: Angsty August by @cosette141 ? No? Oh well, you better remember cause I finally found the will to finish my 2nd idea I had back in 2022.....

[cosette141]

How (and Why) to Write through One Character’s Eyes at a Time - Using CHARACTER POVs to Make Your Writing More Visceral and Emotional

*Just thought I'd share this writing tip that I learned over many years of reading and experimenting on my own, because I don't often see this stuff talked about anywhere. Hope it helps someone else! :)

There’s something that’s very rarely talked about when it comes to prose and fiction narration, which brings me to writing this. 

And that’s character perspectives.

This is NOT a post about choosing between first and third person perspective. Choosing a character perspective (aka POV, or point of view) is a step after that, and it’s a step that some writers don’t even know exists (no one told me, at least, lol). 

This post is about the importance of writing in one character’s perspective at a time. By “at a time,” I mean per section. (Think, every time there’s a chapter change or a line break, that’s the end of a section.) 

Staying in one character’s head/POV at a time in third-person is essential to get the reader emotionally invested. Without it, your reader is just reading a bunch of interesting events one after another.

Now, what do I mean by staying in one character’s head at a time?

Before we get really into this, let me give you an example.

Here’s an example of not staying in one character’s head:

Aiden pulled up on his motorcycle, feeling pride well in his chest that he managed to get his license before his sister, Lisa. Over on the driveway, Lisa watched Aiden sit on his motorcycle, jealousy running through her every vein. The front door opened, and their parents walked out. Their mother frowned. I never wanted him to drive that thing, their mother thought bitterly. Their father smiled wide, feeling his own sense of pride that his son was able to finally drive his old bike. 

I switched POV four times in that paragraph - I went into each character’s head. 

Now I’ll do the same exact scene, staying only in Aiden’s head: 

Aiden pulled up on his motorcycle, feeling pride well in his chest that he managed to get his license before his sister, Lisa. She stood there on the driveway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at him. He smiled a little more to himself, knowing how jealous she was. A creak tore his attention from her, seeing his parents come out of the house. 

First his mother, who frowned immediately, looking at the bike with something between anger and worry on her face, eyeing the machine like it was something disgusting. In contrast, his father walked out with the biggest smile, and Aiden knew he made him proud. 

-.-.

Now in Lisa’s:

She watched from the driveway as her brother rode noisily down the road and onto the driveway. I’d have done that way better, she thought bitterly. Aiden, however, gave her a smug look as he took off his helmet, making her glare deeper at him.

She heard the front door open behind her. Her mother came out, and Lisa was happy to see the woman frown instantly, even if Lisa knew it was because she didn’t like the bike rather than the boy riding it. It was her father’s bright smile that made her blood boil more, for that smile should have been for her. 

-.-.

The mother:

Mother heard the machine before she saw it, feeling dread. She walked outside anyway, her husband following her, to see her little boy step off the dangerous thing. That smile meant he passed his test, and it made her frown. 

She could see Lisa’s negative reaction as well, glad she wasn’t alone in that. But her husband’s clear excitement made her worry shift instantly to anger. I’ll be talking to him about that later. 

-.-.

And finally, the father: 

Father heard the engine the moment it turned onto the block, and he quickly followed his wife to the door. 

There he was, in all his glory, his bike. And, of course, his son. That smile on Aiden as he stepped off the bike made Father’s grow. Father was elated; he was passing down the same bike he was given to by his own father. 

He knew his father would be proud he was keeping the tradition alive.

-.-.

Notice how in these four examples here, we’re sticking with one character, seeing that scene as if through the character’s eyes, one by one. 

That’s how you want to think about third-person, 95% of the time.

As if you, the writer, are inside the character’s head, only able to hear, smell, touch and feel what that one character can.

The big question: why do we want to do this? Why shouldn’t we live in everyone’s head?

Because - which of those examples did you enjoy more? The all-four-at-the-same-time POV, or the one by one? If anything, you were able to feel more in the one-by-one. And that’s because you were put right in the character’s shoes to experience what they experience. 

That’s the beauty of reading (and writing) - being able to live vicariously through characters. 

If we switch from head to head of the characters in the same scene, the moment you settle into one person’s shoes, you’re taken out and put in someone else’s. It’s like someone letting you sit in the driver’s seat of a new car and asking you, “How does this car feel?” As you start to see what you feel, you’re picked up and pushed into a new car, and asked the same question. Naturally you’d respond, “I don’t know what I felt; I was only there for two seconds!” Since that switch happens so often, you never get to settle into it, you never get to relax into it, you never get to sit there long enough to really feel it. Only long enough to get an idea of what that car is like on a more objective level. 

In stories written in prose, we want to let the readers sit, feel and settle into that character so they can experience it. Just like you want to feel that car seat and atmosphere, so you can experience the journey of your drives. Not just get to your destination. (AKA, not just list plot point after plot point).

The reason this is just for prose and not script or playwriting is because both scriptwriting and playwriting don’t stay in one character’s head; it’s in all the characters’ heads the whole time. Simply because the script’s job is to tell the director and actors how to show it. If the script says Lisa is jealous, the director and the actress will decide if she crosses her arms or glares. 

But, in prose, we (the writers) do the showing. And showing occurs where we show how characters feel. A script is a bit more open for interpretation, but a prose story or a novel is more like a moment captured in time, and we’re just recounting exactly as it happened. It won’t be done a different way; this is it. 

It’s vital to write in one character’s POV at a time in order for your reader to not just know what’s happening in your story, but to experience your story. To live through your character. If you don’t stay in one character’s POV at a time, your reader will not be able to feel what your character feels. This makes the difference between a reader simply understanding what’s going on in your story, and actually living vicariously through your characters. 

THE IMPORTANCE OF STAYING IN ONE CHARACTER’S POV AT A TIME

I’ll reiterate that this post is not about choosing first or third-person POV. However, to explain what I mean about character POVs, let’s revisit first and third-person POV. 

We’ve all heard of the two major narration perspectives in novel writing: first person and third-person. (There’s also second person but less than 0.5% of books are written in that one). To quickly define them:

First-person narration speaks from one person’s mind and perspective as if written like a diary straight from their mouth. It uses I, me, we. 

Ex. I walked to school today. Dana didn’t talk to me. Instead I spent the day with Ashley; we walked home together. 

Third-person narration speaks as if from an unrelated party that follows the main characters around. It’s like that deep narrator voice that comes on before or after many cartoons and says things like, “Superman has saved the town; now our hero is off to his next adventure.” It uses he, she, they.

Ex. She walked to school today. Dana didn’t talk to her. Instead, she spent the day with Ashley; they walked home together. 

(If you’re curious, second-person speaks with you and us and is most often used when writing a letter to someone. Ex. I miss you, do you miss me? Therefore it’s used more rarely in stories as narration, though sometimes this peeks in even in 1st person narration where sometimes the character will address the reader as  “you”, as in the narration.) 

BUT that’s not all we need to know about character perspectives! There’s something about POVs that people forget or don’t understand about third-person perspective that people usually do with first-person. 

To get the most emotional investment, you have to stay in one character’s head at a time, even in third-person.

It’s most obvious in first-person to see when a writer jumps from character to character in the same paragraph, chapter, or book as a whole. 

Let me explain:

Ex. I love her. I look at her across from the quad, wanting to tell her. I love him. I see him staring at me from across the quad. 

Here the confusion is clear. 

First you’re confused because you don’t know what’s going on - those things contradict and don’t make sense next to each other, and somehow later you find that they’re not the same person. 

But say we separate it with a line break or making it two chapters:

Ex. 

I love her. I look at her from across the quad, wanting to tell her. 

   .-,-

I love him. I see him staring at me from across the quad. 

Here, it makes much more sense. Names would make it even easier to discern, but we get the fact that two people are here. 

It is possible to write first-person stories in different characters’ heads, but usually the author will let you know which character is speaking by posting their name before their section or making it very obvious. 

But, what I want to talk about here is that we need to do the same thing in third-person perspectives. 

In 95% of all writing scenarios in fiction prose, it is essential that you stay in one character’s head at a time (per section, chapter, or the entire story). That 5% of scenarios is for where emotional investment is not as important; think of slapstick humor, or stories where we get the rare chapter that follows the bad guy, say in a spy novel, where the chapter is only there to give us exposition. (That’s not to say you can’t write your story in one head at a time 100% of the time, nor is this to say that you’re wrong if you do not. This is just a more impactful way of writing, so I recommend it, but writing is also art, and therefore I would never come out and tell anyone they are doing it wrong.)

Again: this is for prose, not script or playwriting. 

Notice also my mention of: emotional investment. 

This is all about connecting your reader to the story in the strongest way possible.

At this point, you might be wondering something like this: “But if I have a scene with two or more characters, and both of them do something vital in a scene, how do I write it just from one of them?”

Have no fear!

There’s two ways around this: one is to write the scene in one person’s POV, and then in the next chapter, backtrack, and write the same thing from the other character’s POV. If both POVs are super vital, this is really great for that. I’ve done this many times, but it’s not viable for every situation. It works best when, say, the characters were in different locations but talking on the phone, and we get to see what both of them were doing and feeling at the same time. Or, if one or both of the characters are hiding a secret or their intentions from the other character, and we want to backtrack so the audience has both points of view. There’s a lot of reasons to do this, and we’ll go over that a little later. 

Essentially, you’ll choose one person’s POV for each scene, and there’s a special way to decide on that character, and a special way to factor in the other character’s actions and emotions without a flashback.

The second way around it is to commit to one person’s perspective by deciding whose perspective is the most important to the story.

And if you’re wondering but what about the other characters?, I’ve got tricks for that too.

There are many ways to tell the reader what the other characters are doing, thinking and how those other characters feel without being in their head or perspective. 

Sound like witchcraft? 

It… kinda is. 

But first… 

We need to figure out what character’s perspective is the best one to choose, and this is, at least, how I do it.

HOW TO CHOOSE WHICH CHARACTER TO SEE THROUGH

In 95% of prose (that other 5%, again, being more exposition scenes or scenes where it’s not really about emotional investment such as slapstick comedy) we need to choose one character’s POV to follow - one set of eyes to see through at a time. Think of that one character you’re choosing as the camera we’re seeing through. And remember - you can change character POVs throughout your story. Just make sure you make a break in the chapter when you switch, or start a new chapter entirely so that the switch doesn’t confuse your readers. 

But here’s the million dollar question—how do you choose which character to see through?

That is entirely up to you, the writer. 

There’s a few ways you can decide. 

The best way to decide which character POV to use is which character is most essential and interesting to see through? 

That entirely depends on what is going on in your story and what matters to you. 

For example, if the story is about how Aiden goes off to be this champion of motorcycle racing, about his struggles and journey to win the pride of his father, then we probably want to see things through Aiden’s point of view, feel his pride, etc. 

But what if this story is about Lisa? What if Lisa wants to gain her father’s pride, and this moment with Aiden showing off makes her determined enough to go out and get her own license and race against him, winning the race and her father in the end? This chapter from Aiden’s POV doesn’t make sense anymore then. The story is about Lisa, and this is a pivotal moment where she gains enough fire to spur her into action. 

But what if the main character is the father? And this is the moment where his son is beginning to set after the dream he’s always wanted for himself? And the story is about how the father bonds with his son in the way he never did with his own father, achieving a goal he never could himself? In that case, this scene doesn’t make sense in Aiden’s nor Lisa’s POV. 

But what if the mother is the main character? What if the story is about how the mother lost a sibling to a motorcycle accident, and now her son’s dream is to race them of all things, so she sets out to try to stop him from following his dream by sabotaging the championship, and perhaps her relationship with him and her whole family in the process, leading her to have to make a very crucial decision in the climax? In that case, again, no one’s POV makes more sense than hers. 

See how it totally matters on the context?

But, what if the story has two main characters? And you want to spend time with both of them because they both are interesting and essential to see through? What if it’s a sibling rivalry between Aiden and Lisa, and both are important to the story? How do you choose which character’s perspective to take for a scene they’re both in?

I fall into this trap all the time. Often I have more than two characters I want to use for the scene I’m writing. So, how do I choose which POV to take?

If they’re all essential in the scene, then move onto who is the most interesting in this moment? No matter what, someone will be.

Let’s take the example where Aiden and his father have the father’s storyline - where the father wants the son to win a race he lost as a kid.

They’re both main characters who will bond in the story. But in this moment, who is more interesting to experience this moment through? The same way you’d think about what outfit you want to wear today, think of your character POV. Which character seems like more fun to write right now? Which one fits the mood? The theme? Whose thoughts and feelings do we learn from more in this moment? Which character is more emotionally invested?

Well, I think this is the beginning of the story, and later Aiden will learn that his father is trying to live through him rather than support him. But he doesn’t know that in the beginning. So, Aiden’s simply happy. But his father is witnessing the beginning of a second chance. I think I’d take the father’s POV. There’s just more to work with there, and I feel an emotional weight with the father - I’m more interested in the story from that perspective. Basically, I have more to work with and draw on with the father, due to the emotional baggage he has and the ulterior motive. Aiden’s story is a bit more one-dimensional at that point, if we’re going with this context for the story. So I just simply have more pieces to play with with the father, and it’s much more interesting (at least to me).

And if you’re torn on which character to choose, do what I did earlier— write the scene out in each character’s POV separately. You’ll know which ones are more fun to write cause they’ll feel good. They’ll feel right. The ones that aren’t right will be shorter and harder to write. For me, that was the mother. I didn’t feel very interested in her part of the scene. That’s how you narrow them down. 

There will never be a tie.

Someone will win. 

And again—even if it ever does get close to a 50/50 split between characters, you can always backtrack. We’ll talk about that later.

HOW TO SAY WHAT OTHER CHARACTERS ARE DOING AND FEELING THROUGH ONE CHARACTER’S POV

So you’re probably thinking to yourself that if you have to stay in one character’s head at a time, everyone else’s thoughts and feelings and POVs are going to fall off the face of the earth, right? Actually, that doesn’t have to happen!

You can tell the reader what other characters are thinking and feeling even when you’re staying in one character’s head at a time.

This is not as hard as it might seem.

The best way to think about this is to think about how you would describe people sitting in a room with you. 

Say you’re in a waiting room at the DMV. There’s two people waiting beside you: a man and a woman. 

Now if someone asked you what the man was feeling, would you be able to say, “He had his license taken away and was nervous he wouldn’t get it back”? 

Of course not! 

He’s a stranger. And unless he says these words out loud, we have no idea what he’s feeling or thinking. And we certainly can’t literally feel what he’s feeling. 

What we need to do is infer.

We can infer what he’s feeling. If someone is crying, they’re probably upset about something. If someone is tense, they’re probably nervous. If they’re holding a bridal magazine, they’re probably getting married. Do we know this for sure? Of course not. But this is as far as we can get to knowing those people around us, because we are in our own head, and we cannot go into someone else’s.

So, put your main character—let’s call him Jack—in this waiting room. If we have this guy sitting next to him in the waiting room, and he’s all tense, not even leaning back into the chair, and very uptight, what can we infer? The man beside Jack looks like a deer in headlights. He seems to be nervous about something. 

The word seems (or synonyms of it) will be your friend. 

Because if instead we say “The man beside Jack is nervous,” we don’t actually know that. We’re inferring based on what we see. Remember: we only see and feel through one character. 

Let’s take the woman.

There’s a woman waiting next to Jack. The woman is dressed to the nines, and briefly Jack realizes her purse must cost more than his whole apartment. She’s inspecting perfectly manicured nails as if looking for a flaw. She seems to think she’s better than this place. 

More inferring. We’re taking what we see the woman wearing to give her the beginning of a personality, the beginning of us trying to understand what she could be thinking and feeling.

Doesn’t mean we can’t do this:

The woman dials a number on her phone, telling the person on the other line, “Yeah, I’m still waiting. … Look, I don’t know why I had to go and get these stupid clothes and manicure. I hate these nails. I can’t wait to get them off.”

Now we have a totally different personality. Our character was wrong about this woman. You can also show what other characters think and feel through dialogue, just like in the example with the woman on the phone.

This is where we get clever.

Just like what I did with the woman on the phone call, you—the writer—can come up with ways for the main character you’re seeing through to learn what the other characters are thinking and feeling. Using actions or things the other characters do or say, such as talking to our MC or someone else and saying things about what they’re thinking or feeling, or facial expressions, to help denote what they’re feeling. 

This is an example of not staying in Jack’s head:

Jack looked over and saw a woman dressed to the nines. She seemed like she didn’t think she belonged here with the rest of them. 

The woman, Sandra, hated that she had to come here. She was missing an important appointment with a divorce attorney, and she was nervous about it. 

Across the room, Jared, a teenager was anxiously waiting to hear about the state of his license. He didn’t want to lose it for a dumb mistake; his parents were going to kill him.

Jack’s name was called, and he got up.

Here’s the same thing in Jack’s head:

The earlier examples of just staying in Jack’s head helped to keep us grounded in him more; this way around feels very surface-y. 

WHAT TO DO WHEN YOU WANT TO GIVE MORE THAN ONE CHARACTER POV IN THE SAME SECTION

The first option you can choose is what I mentioned earlier; you can just do the same section twice, from both perspectives. I’ve used this for phone conversations a lot, to show what was happening on the other side of the line: 

Damien shook his head to himself, sitting alone at the restaurant his brother was supposed to meet him at an hour ago. He dialed his number and waited as it rang.

“Hello?”

Damien’s brows kneaded at his brother’s voice; he sounded weird.

“Jack?” asked Damien. “Where are you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago,” he said, the accusation falling heavily.

There was a pause from the other line, and Damien’s anger was traded for suspicion… and concern. But before he could ask, Jack said hollowly, “I’m… in a little pickle, here. Can you come pick me up?”

Damien sighed, signaling for the waitress to bring the check for the drink he ordered. “Why?” he asked Jack, already knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer; his reckless little brother tended to get into these “pickles” often. “What did you do now?” he asked with an exasperated sigh.

Now, let’s see what was happening on the other line:

Jack’s phone suddenly rang; it was Damien. 

Uh oh; his brother was going to kill him for being late. 

Jack reluctantly picked up the call, panting hard from where he was stuck under the ladder that fell on him two hours ago. “Hello?” he coughed out.

“Jack?” came the confused voice on the other line. It was his brother; Damien. “Where are you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago.” 

Jack winced, trying and failing to free himself from the ladder pinning him down. “I’m… in a little pickle, here. Can you come pick me up?”

“Why?” asked Damien, but Jack could already hear suspicion in his tone. Then, an exasperated sigh. “What did you do now?”

If we kept this in the same scene, we miss the emotion, and we also miss the mystery. I, personally, love the fact that if the Damien perspective comes first, we don’t know what’s wrong with Jack yet, and we’re confused along with Damien. 

Also notice things in this like “Jack could already hear suspicion in his tone.” This is another way you can be in Jack’s perspective, but tell us how Damien’s feeling. He hears suspicion in his brother’s voice, rather than coming out and saying Damien is suspicious. Or, Jack hears an exasperated sigh from Damien, rather than saying Damien is exasperated. 

Plus, you can also have the characters simply just assume what the other is thinking or feeling. That’s such a human thing to do, and it makes your narration feel even more relatable.

This same technique works even if we don’t have a phone conversation in separate locations, and instead just want to see both perspectives so that we the reader have the whole picture, even if the characters themselves are still stuck inferring.

There’s a bunch of ways to do this, and relying on inferring things about the other characters is really key. When you only see through one character at a time, it’s all about what that character thinks about the other characters, what they assume, what they suspect. But that makes the story even more interesting and clever in its own right, because when the reader isn’t entirely sure what’s going on either (in a suspenseful way), it makes the story that much more satisfying. Even if the main character draws wrong conclusions and then later realizes they’re wrong. There’s so much room for interest and character development.

So, you don’t have to write this way; you can feel free to continue writing in all the characters’ heads at a time. 

But if you do want to keep readers even more engaged, to really get them emotionally invested and allow them to live vicariously through your story, then I really do recommend trying this on for size. :) 

[cosette141]

ahhh ITS SO GREAT 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 you are so great at drawing!! this story was so much fun to write, its so amazing to have such a perfect visual now! <3 thanks so so so much star! <3

thank you so much for sharing!! I will cherish it always 🥰🥰🥰

drew fanart for @cosette141 fic, Shawn Walks Into A Bank!!!

so, spoilers ahead!!!

anyways!!! here's the link https://archiveofourown.org/works/13524783/chapters/31024230

Cosette is literally an amazing fanfic writer and I highly recommend reading all her fics!!!! (she has a bunch they are so so so good and so so so whumpy and amazing)