#CS AU

[cstveamaryllis]

CARMEN SANDIEGO: THE VILE EYE

to be released by : may/june 2025 (author’s note below the cut)

sorry for keeping you all waiting!! i wasn’t feeling well physically and mentally this week (ive been dealing with my depression), and to keep you all waiting since 2022 in general! i’m happy to announce that it will be out by this year! the written version at least. the comic one will take a bit of time, but it wont be long! STAY TUNED ILY ALL

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Sleeps Ten, My Ass (2/2)

Summary: It's become tradition for Emma Swan to spend the holidays with her brother, their cousins, and their families. This Christmas was no different. The group booked a four night stay at a cozy mountain cabin to celebrate. The listing said it sleeps ten, but upon arrival they discover a small issue. The listing was wrong and now Emma and Killian Jones, the only two single people within their group, have to spend the next four nights sharing a bed. Fortunately... they've shared a bed before.

A/N: @eastwesthomeisbest I'm sorry this Part Two took a little longer to get to you than I'd planned, but I hope you'll find it worth the wait! Again, it was lovely being your CS Secret Santa!! I hope you have a wonderful 2025!!

For the rest of my readers, I started over with my Curious Crew Tag List (which I typically do at the first of the year). Although I'm pretty sure I've added everyone who told me to date that they wished to be added, if I missed you (SORRY) or you wish to be added, please let me know!!

Thanks to @kmomof4 for looking this over for me and to the @cssecretsanta2020 for once again hosting a fantastic event. Side note, this fic also completes my Only One Bed: Holiday Edition square for the CS Winter Bingo!

Rated E / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One

Part Two

“Merry Christmas!”

Emma clinked her mimosa against the glasses of her family and friends then settled onto the sofa next to her brother. Taking a sip of the bubbly beverage, she perused the room and let the early morning alcohol warm her from the inside as the fireplace beside her took care of the outside.

Much as Killian had done for her last night.

Shaking off that thought - and the remnants of the dreams she’d had where he’d kept her warm in other ways - Emma tucked her legs beneath her and gave Liam her attention as he passed out the gifts.

The couples tended to exchange gifts with one another in private before they met as a group, and Emma imagined this year was no different. The gifts Liam was handing out were the ones each of them had brought for a specific member of their group. Every Thanksgiving they drew names at random so each person only had to buy something for one other person. Then, Christmas morning, they would all open their gifts and reveal who had bought for whom.

Emma was grateful that she did not have to buy something for everyone, but she did not enjoy the fact that they opened the gifts one at a time while the rest of the group watched, making the person unwrapping the center of attention.

Well, the person unwrapping and the person who had gifted it.

“David, I love it!” Elsa praised with a laugh, holding up the lightweight sweatshirt for everyone to see.

Printed across the front in bold lettering, it read: No. I don’t need a coat. The cold doesn’t bother me.

“That’s perfect,” Liam chortled, already tearing his gift open.

And around the room they went. After Elsa was Liam, then Kristoff, then Anna, who Emma had drawn and gifted a pair of boots she’d known her cousin had been wanting. When Anna was finally done gushing over them, Emma began to open her gift.

“So… who will I be thanking for this…” She’d gotten the rest of the paper off and the lid to the box open when her words fell away as she looked over the myriad of items within.

“It’s a, uh...” Killian cleared his throat and pawed at the patch of skin behind his ear as he went on to explain. “It’s a sort of… winter stake-out care package, I guess is what you’d call it.”

Emma began lifting the items out of the box as Killian described them and the thought process behind his selecting each one.

“I’d noticed earlier this month when we all got together for that holiday festival that you needed a new beanie,” he said as she slipped the hunter green beanie onto her head and then pulled out a pair of soft gloves. “Now, I know you don’t tend to wear gloves on a stake-out because they get in the way of you taking photos or making notes on your phone, but with these you can slip the individual fingertips off so your hands can stay warm while you still have use of your finger pads.”

Emma tested them out whilst he explained their function, loving the ease with which she could quickly bare her thumbs and fingertips. They would certainly come in handy, as would the next item.

“A portable electric kettle,” Killian informed the group when more than one of them had murmured an inquiry about the item in question. “You just add water and plug it into the cigarette lighter in your vehicle and it’ll boil in less than 90 seconds. It also serves as a thermos once you’ve heated the water.” Killian lifted his chin in a pointed gesture and added, “There’s some hot cocoa packets and instant coffee in there as well.”

“This is…” Emma began, somewhat at a loss of what to say.

“Do you like it?”

Emma’s eyes jumped to Killian’s which were filled with a hesitant anticipation; his brows furrowed as his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“I do,” she answered, smiling softly at him. “This was all so thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Swan,” he replied, a bright smile adorning his lips as he let out a heavy breath of relief.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mary Margaret elbow David in the ribs. No doubt it was an attempt to keep whatever snide comment he had at the ready about her occupation from falling out of his mouth. Emma knew her brother did not approve of her line of work. In truth, most of them didn’t. The only one who never gave her a hard time about it, who never questioned her abilities or capability, who only ever asked about it out of genuine curiosity and interest, and without an ulterior motive to somehow diminish her success or exaggerate the dangers, was Killian.

Emma tried to focus on the remaining gifts being opened by the rest of their group, but her mind kept circling back to her own. The way Killian had noticed the state of her beanie and how he inherently knew and understood the reason why she tended to not wear gloves, despite her having the opposite reaction to the cold from her cousin.

The cold did bother her. It always had.

The contrast of her and Elsa’s response to it had always been a source of amusement within their circle. As evidenced by David’s gift to Elsa and past comments made regarding the issue. It struck Emma, in that moment, that Killian had never taken her objection to the cold lightly. From the beginning, he had always made sure she was comfortable. Warm. Content.

Like last night. Like many times before. Like with his gift. Making sure she’d be warm and comfortable during the long, wintery nights whilst on a stake-out. The way he’d made sure she was warm that night. The night in the Caribbean when a cool ocean breeze had met her damp skin - sweat soaked from dancing in a crush of people - and she’d shivered, her slip of a dress, which left little to the imagination, unable to combat the chill as goosebumps erupted over her entire body.

She could still feel the soft fabric of Killian’s jacket around her shoulders, the warmth it transferred from his body to hers, his scent lingering on the collar and intoxicating her sinuses in the same way the rum had infused their blood. The memory of the heat of his hand, pressing against the small of her back as he walked her to her cabin made Emma shift in her seat, as did the whisper of his hot breath against her neck when she recalled the words he’d murmured into her ear.

“I’ll keep you warm, love. Just say the word and I’ll make you burn until morning. It would be both our pleasure, I swear it.”

He had been good to his word.

So, so good.

“Who's ready for breakfast?”

Mary Margaret’s inquiry, which signaled the end of the gift giving portion of the day, shook Emma from her thoughts. Her highly inappropriate thoughts. Thoughts that had caused her cheeks to grow hot and blush pink; a fact she hoped no one had noticed.

“You look a bit flushed, Swan,” Killian commented on their way to the dining room - much to Emma’s mortification. “I guess my gifts are doing their job.”

Unable to meet his eye, Emma swiped the new beanie off her head and peeled the gloves off her hands. “Yep. I’m nice and toasty now. Thanks.”

“Anytime, love,” he replied in a deep, quiet timbre. Was she imagining the mixture of promise and longing in his words? Was he merely being his usual cheeky self, or was he reminding her of all the ways they could produce heat together… and his willingness to explore them with her?

“Who needs a refill?” Elsa offered, holding up the bottle of champagne and the pitcher of orange juice.

“Me!” Emma responded, hurrying towards the island with her champagne flute and receiving the first of many, many refills she’d imbibe that day.

~/~

This was a bad idea. No, it was a great idea, but it was also, potentially, a very, very bad idea.

It had been Anna’s idea. Which wasn’t the reason it was a bad one. It was actually a really good one. After a long day of cooking and drinking and eating and games and drinking and cleaning and drinking, her cousin had suggested they end the evening with a soak in the hot tub.

Which was a terrific idea, except… wearing nothing but her bikini, in a hot tub, with Killian Jones, also in his swimsuit, with his hair curling from the steam and water droplets clinging to his chest hair and pooling in the hollow of his throat while she - and the rest of them - continued to polish off the bottles of champagne that never seemed to end was a very, very bad idea.

But when had a bad idea ever stopped her before?

Especially when said bad idea had actually crossed her mind days before when she’d packed her bag. More specifically, the tiny, red, string bikini she’d worn during their cruise vacation. But no, she absolutely did not choose to pack this particular bikini because she remembered the look on Killian’s face and the hunger in his eyes when he saw her in it the first time on the pool deck. The same hunger that was threatening to devour her from a darkened, forget-me-not gaze across the hot tub.

Okay, maybe she did pack this particular bikini on purpose with this particular scenario in mind.

The idea wasn’t the only thing that was bad. Emma was also being bad. Very, very bad. And she wanted to do bad things. Very, very bad things with the man she found herself alone in the hot tub with after all their family and friends had decided to turn in about an hour after they’d first all got in.

“D’you wanna stay inna bit longer or turn in,” Killian asked with a heavy tongue from all the alcohol he’d consumed over the course of the day.

The same amount that was currently coursing through her veins and causing her to want to act on her very, very bad ideas.

“Prolly should turn in,” she replied in an equally tipsy tone. “M’ry Marget wants to head out early for after Kissmas shopping.”

Another loathsome tradition, but one Emma complied with for her sister-in-law’s sake. She wasn’t much for bargain hunting, but she knew what the bonding time together meant to the woman who had married into a sisterhood (despite Elsa and Anna actually being Emma’s cousins) after being an only child all her life and an orphan for the greater part of it.

“Right then,” Killian said, standing from where he’d been lounging in the corner and offering her a hand up. “We should get you to bed, love.”

Taking his hand, Emma stood, then immediately lost her footing and fell into his wet, firm chest. His arms circled her waist, his inebriation making him a bit clumsy and the slickness of their skin causing one of his hands to inadvertently land a bit too low. Palming her ass cheek may have been an accident, but the way his grip tightened, his fingers digging into her skin as he prompted her hips forward was not.

Nor was the way she responded, bringing herself flush against him as their lips, teeth and tongues met with fervor. He groaned into her mouth when she raked her nails down his back, then reached up and wrapped his other hand around the back of her neck.

“I want you,” he breathed, the much needed air secondary to the words he seemed desperate to convey.

“I want you, too,” she told him before suddenly finding herself in his arms, being carried out of the hot tub and into the cabin. After setting her down by the dying embers of the fire, he grabbed a nearby towel and wrapped it around her.

“I’m gonna shut off the hot tub and close things up,” he informed her. “Wait for me in our room?”

Emma nodded, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she headed for the stairs. Glancing back over her shoulder, she giggled at the way he hurriedly - and drunkenly - took care of the tasks so he could follow after her. He didn’t keep her waiting long. No sooner had she finished drying off - still clad in her bikini, so not completely dry - and taking her hair down from the high bun she’d pulled it into so it would stay out of the water, than he came through the door like a man on a mission.

His mission, it seemed, was to pick up where they’d left off. In less than a second she was back in his arms, their hands indulging in the vast expanse of exposed skin while their mouths fought to devour the other.

“You’ve no idea what seeing you in this bikini does to me,” he growled against her lips, his fingers toying with the knotted strings tied at her back.

Reaching between them, Emma cupped his hardness through the thin, damp fabric of his trunks and hummed into his mouth before murmuring, “Actually, I think I do.”

“We’re drunk,” he stated, pulling back slightly while his hands gripped her hip and grazed her back.

“W’are,” she slurred, flicking her gaze up to his. “Your point?”

“We were drunk last time, too,” he reminded her, sloppily. “I’ve always regretted that.”

“Regretted it?”

“Not what we did,” he clarified, his fingers brushing up her side, over the back of her shoulder, then back down her arm. “I regret I wasn’t in complete control of my faculties when I took you. That the details of you, naked and quivering beneath me, are hazy in my memory because of the alcohol clouding them.”

Emma cupped his length harder, pulling a grunt from the depths of his chest and causing his eyes to slip shut as his lips parted in pleasure. “Will that regret keep you from taking me again?” she asked, kneading the underside of his balls with her fingertips. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she gripped his earlobe between her teeth, eliciting a sharp intake of breath that interrupted the moans vibrating up his throat. “Will that regret keep you from allowing me the pleasure of being taken?”

Killian jerked his head away, her teeth scraping against the lobe of his ear. A growl rumbled in his chest as he pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes dark and piercing despite the alcohol hooding his gaze.

“Absolutey the fuck not,” he declared in a tone that curled her toes and nearly made her knees give out.

With a series of sharp tugs, he undid the knots that had kept her bikini top secured, then tore the flimsy piece of fabric from her breasts so his mouth and hands could replace it. Clutching his head to her chest, Emma gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist when he managed to lift her, one handed, so he could carry her to the bed. He probably would have deposited her on the mattress with more finesse had he been sober, but Emma wasn’t complaining, not when he sank to his knees at the end of it and began divesting her of her bikini bottoms with his teeth.

She wasn’t sure whether she said them out loud, but the last coherent words to flow through her consciousness before his tongue began its assault on her sex were, we really ought to do this sober at some point.

~/~

“Got our to-go coffees!”

Emma groaned, her head resting against her arms which were crossed on top of the table they’d just finished having breakfast on. If you could call a slice of dry toast breakfast, that is.

She really shouldn’t have drank so much the day before.

She hated to think how much worse her hangover would be if, after their… relations, Killian hadn’t insisted they both take an aspirin and chase it with a large glass of water before crashing.

Yet another thing to be grateful to Killian Jones for.

And he had given her many, many things to be grateful for last night.

Of course, she’d given him her fair share as well.

Not that she should be thinking about any of that now, especially when thinking in general was causing her head to pound.

“Here,” Elsa said, prompting Emma to sit up and take the to-go cup being offered to her. “I slipped a little hair of the dog in it for you.”

Emma glanced down to where Elsa was brandishing the flask she had tucked away in her purse, a very Jones-esque smirk pulling at her lips.

“Your brother-in-law is a bad influence,” Emma chortled, then winced at the way the action made her stomach gurgle.

Elsa laughed and stood, prompting the rest of the table to follow. The four women made their way out of the diner and towards the shops that were just beginning to open for the after Christmas sales. Emma took a large gulp of her doctored coffee, willing it to sustain her these next few hours. She was gonna need all the help she could get.

“Emma,” Elsa said quietly, as they milled around the third - or was it the fourth - shop of the day.

When Emma glanced over at her, Elsa tilted her head towards the corner, indicating a more private place to chat, and Emma, curious, followed her cousin.

“What’s up?” Emma asked, noting the discomfort and hesitation Elsa was struggling with.

“It’s just…” Elsa began, tentatively. “I know you were joking before, when you said Killian was a bad influence, but…”

“But?”

Elsa’s cool blue eyes locked onto Emma’s. She knew that look. It was the same look David would give her when he was about to go all I’m-telling-you-this-for-your-own-good, trust-me-I-know-what-I’m-talking-about, slightly insufferable, older brother on her.

“He isn’t a bad guy.”

Stunned, Emma blanched and assured, “I know that.”

“I mean,” Elsa continued. “I know David thinks he has a reputation of being a ladies’ man, and has written him off as a ‘bad boy’, but Killian isn’t actually like that.”

“Okay,” Emma drawled, suddenly very uncomfortable with where this conversation might be going. “Why are you tell--”

“Because… He talks about you all the time,” Elsa told her. There was something in her tone that alerted Emma to the fact that her words might be considered a betrayal, but she’d decided to place her loyalties with her cousin rather than her brother-in-law. “He asks about you when it’s been awhile since we’ve all gotten together. I really… I really think he has a thing for you, and I wouldn’t want any misconceptions to get in the way of you possibly--”

“Elsa, stop.”

Emma couldn’t listen to anything more her cousin had to say. It was too much. Too much to hope that this… whatever it was between her and Killian, was more than some ‘dalliance’. More than an itch he felt the need to scratch or some challenge he wanted to conquer.

More than just another notch on his bedpost.

“Look,” she said, her tone not quite as snappy as it had been. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you don’t have to defend Killian to me. I know he’s a decent guy, and I…” Emma wasn’t sure what else to say without giving away her feelings, something she was barely ready to do with herself, and nowhere near ready to admit to anyone else.

“Right,” Elsa said, letting Emma off the hook. “Well, I’m glad we got that sorted. I just… Now that Liam and I are married, the Jones brothers are a permanent fixture in our lives and I--”

“I know,” Emma interjected, wishing to end the awkward conversation. “I get it.”

“Do you?” Elsa asked, stepping a bit closer. “Emma, Killian isn’t going anywhere. I know you keep your guard up because you’re afraid of being wrong about him, but… give him a chance? I really think he just might surprise you. In the best way.”

Elsa’s words lingered in Emma’s mind for the rest of the day, as did nearly every interaction she’d ever had with Killian over the past several years. If what Elsa had said was true, that Killian had genuine feelings for her, then why hadn’t he ever made a move?

Granted, in the early years of Elsa and Liam’s relationship, he only came around a couple of times, but he had been a solid member of their group for at least the past two. Yet, he’d never given her any indication of being serious about her. Sure, he flirted and made suggestive comments and did outrageous things with his eyebrows and tongue, but he did that with everyone, right? Even David and Kristoff.

He didn’t have their preferred drink at the ready when they inevitably showed up late, though. Nor did he buy them thoughtful gifts that affirmed and supported their chosen profession. He also did not gravitate towards the rest of them like he did her. And she to him.

He didn’t look at any of them the way he looked at her. In fact… She could not recall a single time they’d been together when she’d seen him look at another woman that way. Not even on the cruise when there had been no shortage of beautiful women in revealing, eye-catching outfits. Not even when those women had come onto him, slipping their room numbers, phone numbers, and who knows what else into his pocket.

Surely, given the fact that he was gorgeous and charming and sexy as hell - don’t get her started on the accent - and had women throwing themselves at him, he had no trouble keeping his date book full and his bed warm. It’s not like he’d been pining after her all this time.

Right?

~/~

The ladies got back to the cabin later than they’d planned. Initially, the group was going to make do with the leftovers for dinner, cleaning out the fridge and making sure nothing went to waste before checking out the next day. However, the shopping and bonding and girl-time had led to them informing the guys that they’d be dining out instead and to not wait up.

Emma - despite the internal turmoil and lingering questions her conversation with Elsa had left her with - had actually enjoyed the day with her cousins and sister-in-law. So much so that it might have been her idea to ditch leftovers with the gents and treat themselves to a lovely meal at the bistro they’d walked by several times during their shopping ventures through the town.

Was a small part of that suggestion due to the fact she wasn’t ready to face Killian?

Yup. Absolutely. 100%

There was no putting it off any longer, though. Despite their insistence that the men should not wait up for them, they had. Because, of course they had.

After a brief recap of the day and a run down of what would need to be done in the morning before they checked out of the cabin, the group dispersed, heading to their respective rooms and turning in for the night. Emma glanced at Killian, whom she’d been avoiding making eye contact with, and could see the same uncertain, hesitant, bracing-for-what-may-come-next demeanor she knew she’d walked into the cabin with.

Making her way into their room, she noted how he’d made the bed and picked up their discarded suits that had still littered the floor when she’d left early that morning. She swallowed heavily at the memory of her quickly quieting her alarm and getting ready - queasy and heavy-headed - as silently and stealthily as possible as not to wake him and force an interaction. What had it been like for him to wake up alone? Had he been plagued by thoughts and memories and questions all day like she had? Eager to see her and discover what it all meant whilst also willing to allow the hours to drag on and avoid having to face a reality that may not meet hopeful expectations?

The door softly snicked closed, the air growing heavy and charged as tense anticipation palpated throughout the room.

“Swan,” Killian began, his voice gentle but resolved as he hovered by the door, giving her as much space as he could within the privacy of their room. “I know talking about last night is probably the last thing you wish to do, but I really think, given that it’s happened twice now, that we really ought to dis--”

“You’re right,” she agreed, cutting him off. “I think we need to talk about it.”

Killian balked. That was clearly not the response he’d been prepared to receive from her. “You do?”

“Yeah,” she said, wetting her lips and shuffling her feet against the carpet, her gaze turned downward as she slipped her hands into her back pockets. “I’ve, uh… I've been thinking about it all day. I mean…” she paused, her eyes closing briefly at how that statement could be misconstrued, even if the presumption wouldn’t be completely off base. “I’ve been thinking about us all day.”

“Me, too,” he replied with understanding, no hint of teasing or suggestive provocation in his tone.

Emma lifted her gaze and met his eyes. He was looking at her as one would a cornered animal, cautious and careful of making any sudden movement that might frighten the creature away.

“Actually,” she continued, her heart thumping wildly in her chest as she gathered the courage to make her next confession. “I’ve been thinking about us since that night on the ship.”

“Aye,” he breathed out on little more than a whisper. “Me, too.”

With her hands still tucked away in her pockets, she dipped her gaze down to her feet once more and said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he replied without hesitation.

It took her a moment to get over her own.

“The other night,” she began, haltingly. “When you implied that you didn’t share your bed often enough to develop a preference on which side of the… I know it’s none of my business, but…”

“But?”

Flicking her gaze to his once more, she took a breath and asked, “How often is not often enough?”

Killian reached up and scratched behind his ear; a usually endearing tell of his, but one that had her stomach churning at that moment.

“I, uh… actually…” He cleared his throat and cast his gaze aside, though he did throw a furtive glance her way as he answered, “This past year I’ve only shared my bed with one person.”

“Oh,” Emma replied, her heart sinking a bit. “Can I ask who?”

Killian’s head snapped back towards her, a look of amused confusion on his face. His expression softened and he closed the space between them, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw as he said, “Don’t you know, Emma… It’s you.”

“What?” she exhaled, stupidly. “What do you mean… me?”

“I haven’t been with another woman since last Christmas when you kissed me beneath the mistletoe.”

Emma knew her mouth was hanging open. She knew she must have looked - in his words - absolutely gobsmacked. “B-But that was…” she stuttered, recalling the moment he was referring to. “That was just a silly, little peck on the lips because Elsa had hung it over the bar station and caught us standing there. It was hardly even a kiss.”

“Perhaps not to you,” he said with a tinge of hurt in his voice. “But it was to me.”

Dropping his hand he took a small step back and Emma instantly regretted making it seem as though the kiss hadn’t been a big deal. In truth, she’d had to convince herself for months afterward that it wasn’t.

“But it wasn’t just the kiss,” he continued. “It’s what the kiss exposed.”

Emma felt her breath hitch at the way he was looking at her now: vulnerable, unguarded, and - to use the word he’d just uttered - thoroughly exposed.

“Which was?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and a longing took over in his forget-me-not depths. “That you’re it for me, Swan. I…” Boldly, he approached her again, his words and expression leaving no room for doubt as to his sincerity. “There’s no one else. I don’t want anyone else. You’re the one I want.”

“Why… Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, the sound of her heart thundering in her ears, her chest rising and falling a bit too rapidly.

He cocked his head to one side, an uncomfortable expression taking hold of his features as he reminded her, “At the time, you were with that Walsh bloke, and despite my dislike of the fellow, it seemed bad form to make heartfelt declarations whilst you were in a relationship.” Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled heavily and added, “When it did, thankfully, end, although his timing was rubbish, leaving you high and dry on Valentine’s Day, you seemed a bit… put off by the idea of, well, all men.”

“Right,” she said, her cheeks flushing hot at the reminder. “My rant at the pub about how all men are bastards and how I was vowing to live a celibate life from then on.”

“Aye,” he chuckled. “Didn’t seem like the right time to suggest we start… anything.”

“So,” she said, understanding why he’d taken a step back. “You gave me some space.”

“I thought it best to give it time. Let you heal. Remind yourself that, though the wanker had broken your heart, at least that meant it still worked.”

“And then,” she said, prompting him to continue. “The cruise.”

“Aye, the cruise,” he parroted, swallowing hard. “Liam and Elsa’s wedding, both of us in the wedding party, spending all that time together, flirting, connecting. I thought… I thought, perhaps, it was finally my chance. Our chance. We had that amazing night together. Not just the sex, but everything else that had led up to it. And then…”

“And then, I metaphorically ran for the hills the next morning.”

Killian dropped his head, his shoulders tense as he drew in a deep breath. “I was afraid that I may have taken advantage of--”

“No, Killian,” she said, cupping his cheek and urging him to look at her. “We went over that the next day. You didn’t take advantage of me. At least, not anymore than I took of you. That wasn’t why I--”

“I know, love,” he murmured. “I know you weren’t ready. You were still getting over--”

“No, I wasn’t,” she told him. “I got over Walsh a long time ago, I just…”

“What?” he asked, his eyes flicking between hers. “You just what, Swan?”

A contrite expression pulled at her brows and she dropped her hand to his chest as she confessed, “I didn’t want to be just another notch on your bedpost. I didn’t want to be some conquest.”

“Oh, Emma,” he whispered, gathering her in his arms. “You are not some conquest. Not to me.”

He held her for several beats of their hearts, his face nuzzling the top of her head. “Ever since that night, I have waffled between the desire to respect your wishes, and the urge to fight for what I want.” Pulling back, he gazed down at her and professed, “I’m done waffling. I want you, Emma. I want to be with you. I want to pursue you, and woo you, and court you in all the ways you ought to be.” Bringing his hand up, he caressed the side of her face with the backs of his fingers and murmured, “But only if you want that as well. Whatever we become is as much up to you as it is to me.”

“That all sounds good to me,” she said, pulling a deep chuckle from his chest, and they both smiled at one another, basking in the joy of the moment.

A joy that transitioned as they stood there, lightly caressing the other, breathing the other in, and gazing into each other’s eyes. Eyes that were darkening and becoming more hooded and intense as the atmosphere began to electrify around them.

When their lips met, it wasn’t in the chaotic and frenzied way they had in the instances before. There was no less passion, no less heat, but the desperation in this kiss was for closeness, intimacy, and not because either of them thought this might be the only time they’d ever get a chance to experience the other in this way.

After a long, thorough, languid exploration of her mouth, Killian’s moved to her jaw, the space below her ear, then down her neck. Emma’s fingers carded through his hair as his tongue mapped the slope of her shoulder, his hand gently pulling at the collar of her shirt to expose a greater path.

“I agree,” he murmured into her skin, his lips applying soft kisses and gentle, sucking pressure to her pulse points as they traveled back up her neck.

“With what?” Emma panted, torn between wanting to bask in this unhurried moment of enjoyment and her eagerness to move things along so they could get to the really good stuff.

“With what you said last night,” he reminded her, pulling his face away from her neck so he could stare down at her with a smoldering gaze of desire. “We really ought to do it sober sometime, and I see no better time than now. Do you?”

“Uh, yeah. No. I mean…” Emma silently cursed herself for sounding like an idiot. Taking a deep breath, she reached down and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, then began lifting it as she replied, “I think so, too.”

Killian raised his arms, allowing her to peel the shirt from his body. His breath visibly hitched beneath her touch as she ran her fingers down the front of his chest; the muscles in his lower abdomen jumping when they reached the top of his jeans where his body hair began to taper into a happy trail. She could feel the heat of his gaze as she loosened his belt, heard the soft gasp that fell from his lips when she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and the groan he let out when she slipped her hand past his boxer briefs to wrap around his hardening, hot, velvety length sent a shiver of wonder down her spine.

“I think,” she whispered in a sultry tone, flicking up her gaze up from beneath her lashes to meet his; her words causing them to open after her actions had clearly made them fall shut in pleasure. “I’ll be the one doing the taking this time.”

A shudder ran through him and his gaze darkened. “As you wish,” he murmured, his timbre low and gravelly and making her want to do all sorts of naughty things to him.

Her hand still wrapped around his cock, she guided him to the edge of the bed and prompted him to sit on the edge as she sank down onto her knees.

“Lie back,” she instructed while working to free him from his jeans and underwear.

“As my lady commands,” he replied, collapsing back onto the mattress, though his head remained lifted so he could watch.

After divesting him of his remaining garments, Emma pulled her hair into a high ponytail. She delighted in the way his body jumped and quivered beneath her touch; her teasing caresses and taunting kisses applied to all the areas except where he’d want them most. Pained pants puffed from his chest and soft whimpers collected in the back of his throat. The cords of his neck strained whenever his head fell back, his eyes following the motion, his lips parted and sticking at the corners whenever his teeth weren’t burying themselves into their soft flesh. When she finally turned her attention to his neglected manhood, his hips jerked off the bed from the feel of her tongue running the length of his cock.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed, his hands balling up the comforter in a white-knuckeled grip.

“Shhhh,” she admonished. “Don’t make me gag you like you had to with me last night.”

The reminder forced a half-growl, half-groan from his chest, but it fully transformed into a moan of pleasurable relief when she took him fully into her mouth.

“Gods above, Swan,” he croaked after several minutes of her working him over, trying to keep his voice down. Trying… and failing. “Fuck!”

With a soft pop, Emma released him and stood.

“Apologies, love,” he whispered in a desperate tone. “Please. Don’t stop.”

“I have no intentions of stopping,” she assured him. “But you clearly need help staying quiet.”

If he had a retort to her statement, it must have been forgotten when she lifted her shirt over her head and then removed her bra. Killian’s tongue slowly dragged across his lips, his eyes intently focused on her as she shimmied out of her own jeans and panties. Her black lace panties that matched her bra; a set, like her swimsuit, she had intentionally packed with him in mind.

Black lace panties that she picked up off the floor and let hang off her index finger as she made her way up onto the bed, mounting him dramatically and straddling his hips.

“Are you gonna be a good boy and keep quiet, or…”

She swung her panties once around her finger. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his eyes trained on the black fabric until it came to a rest, crooked on her finger once more, before they met hers. Emma could see the gears turning in his mind, trying to decide which he’d prefer.

After a deliciously taut moment, he said, “I’ll be good. I promise.”

“Mmmm,” Emma hummed, leaning down so her lips could hover over his. “Good choice.”

She laid her panties on the pillow next to his head as they kissed - just in case. Killian groaned when his tongue ran alongside hers and Emma knew it was because he could taste the brine of his precum still lingering there. When she finally broke off the kiss so she could sit back and position herself over his length, he followed. They both broke the promise of being quiet when he slipped inside her, filling her, stretching her, molding her to him as though they were only ever meant to fit one another.

Rolling her hips, Emma began to move as Killian held her. Murmurs, grunts, staccatoed breaths, sweet nothings, curses, praises, all filled the space between them as their bodies rolled, their hips swiveled, their lips collided, their eyes connected, and their pleasure mounted.

Whenever Emma would arch her back, Killian latched onto her breasts, lavishing them with his tongue and applying sweet torture with his teeth. Torture that reverberated down to her clit, causing it to throb and ache until she couldn’t take it any longer. Pushing Killian back down onto the mattress, she ground down hard against him in an attempt to alleviate the torment. When she felt the damp press of his thumb against her she nearly cried out before remembering herself.

“That’s it, love,” he encouraged, vigorously applying just the right amount of pressure and rhythm to her clit as he shifted beneath her so he could continue to thrust up into her warm, slick center. “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight. So soft. So wet.” His words became breathier and more strained, his exertions unrelenting as his thumb and cock competed to bring her to completion. “Come for me,” he pleaded, though there was a tone of command that grew more prominent as he repeated them.

“Come for me, love. I want you to come. Need you to come. Come for me, Emma. Oh, Emma. Emma, Emma, My Emma. Come!”

And come, she did.

Hard.

Showing her no mercy, Killian kept pounding into her, his ministrations at her clit sending wave after wave of ecstasy and bone-numbing pleasure through her, making it impossible for her to stay upright. Collapsing against him, she felt his rhythm falter for a few brief seconds when he brought up his knees, giving him the necessary leverage to chase after her into the euphoric abyss she was still tumbling down. The sounds of his desperation panted and grunted and moaned in her ear, until his breath hitched and guttural groanings, deeper than words, reverberated through his chest and stuttered over his lips like his hips did against hers.

Emma wasn’t sure how long they laid there, sated and spent and unbearably content as their bodies cooled and their breaths evened out.

“Do you need to move?” Killian asked, his legs stretching back out as his arms kept her held firmly against him.

“I don’t want to,” she mumbled into the side of his neck. “But I probably ought to.”

During their post-coital cuddling, he’d already begun to soften and slip from her, but the emptiness she felt when he fully left her had them both quickly moving through their aftercare routines so they could be back in the other’s arms, nestled beneath the covers, as quickly as possible.

“Does it all still sound good to you, love?” Killian questioned between the soft kisses he was applying to the back of her shoulder.

“The wooing and pursuing and courting, you mean?” she clarified, sleepily.

“Aye.”

“Mmmm, you bet.”

~/~

“Well, I think that’s everything,” Liam said, tying a knot on the last of the trash bags that needed to be taken out. “Elsa is going over the check-out list one last time, but I think we’ve taken care of everything.”

“I don’t see why we even bothered,” David groused. “It’s not like the owner kept up his end of things.”

“And Elsa will make sure her review reflects that,” Liam assured him.

Emma and Killian exchanged amused glances with one another. Other than the heat going out that one night - which Kristoff had managed to fix the next day - she and Killian had been the only ones truly ‘inconvenienced’ by the misleading information in the cabin’s listing.

An inconvenience she was tempted to leave a five star review for.

Sleeps ten, her ass… and her eternal gratitude.

The End

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)

@bluewildcatfanatic @scotchiegirl @jonesfandomfanatic @idristardis @lfh1226-linda

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[st0r-fruit]

ROUNDABOUT X OC!!!

Oc: Bishop/Adya Hartono

Art by @soyoni , thank you for the birthday gift broski :3

[searchingwardrobes]

Scarborough Fair 9/?

Yes, it's true. You aren't dreaming. I am finally updating this long-neglected fic! Not only that, but I will be finishing it. As a matter of fact, you will have an update every day this week. If anyone still cares, that is, lol. I know the fandom isn't what it once was. However, I suddenly got inspired again to finish this. So whether or not anyone reads it, it's getting the resolution it deserves. Why did I neglect it for so long? Writer's block. I just haven't written hardly a thing in at least a year, probably longer. So when I laid awake, unable to sleep because I was finishing this fic in my head, I was ecstatic. That's why I'm finishing it whether anyone reads it or not. Of course, if you are still reading it, may I politely suggest commenting? It definitely feeds the muse!

Rest assured, there will be an update tomorrow. I don't have much going on tomorrow, and I actually planned more in this chapter originally. So be looking out for that!

Much thanks to the two biggest fans of this fic, Krystal @kmomof4 and Marta @snowbellewells - re-reading your reblogs of this fic helped kick me back into high gear!

And as an extra treat, here is a picture of Emma's wedding dress in this chapter:

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Emma Swan has had a charmed life, despite being a foster child. She has a wonderful family who loves her, and the best friends in the world. The only thing that mars her idyllic existence is her birth mother: a homeless woman who mutters nonsensical rhymes and claims to be Snow White. One fateful night, however, Emma’s world is shattered. Perhaps her mother’s rhymes aren’t nonsense after all.

Rated: M for date rape, dubious consent, teen pregnancy, and sexy times (the good kind!)

Words: Over 1k in this chapter

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight

Also on Ao3

Tagging:  (let me know if you wish to be removed or added):  @snowbellewells @teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thisonesatellite @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @ohmakemeahercules @tiganasummertree @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressay

Liam and Ingrid, unsurprisingly, had concerns when they came home to Emma and Killian announcing their engagement. Anna, unsurprisingly, was bouncing up and down with joy. 

“Are you sure you’re proposing for the right reasons?” Was their main question for Killian.

“Well, the main reason is I love her,” he told them with conviction, “but it’s also the timing. She needs me. I know deep in my bones I was always meant to be her husband, so if she needs me now, why wait?”

“Are you sure you aren’t just accepting out of fear? Because it’s safe?” Was their main question for Emma.

Emma’s answer was delivered with just as much conviction. “It isn’t just that I feel safe with Killian; I love him. Shouldn’t love feel safe, anyway? And I feel the same way he does. If we waited five more years, or ten, or twenty, nothing would change. We’re meant to be together.”

Liam and Ingrid couldn’t pretend to be surprised. Both of them had noticed a soulmate type of connection between Emma and Killian for a long time. They also couldn’t deny the logic of the decision when it came to Emma’s security and the baby’s. There was only one other concern.

“What about school?”

“I can finish high school married just as well as I can single,” Emma told them with a shrug, and Killian vowed he wouldn’t get in the way of her education. 

“But Boston College, Killian?”

He squared his shoulders and looked his brother dead in the eyes. “I won’t be returning. I’ve already told my boss he can count on me full time with the construction company. He’s promoting me to a foreman position, so I can easily support Emma. When the baby’s a little older, I can enroll at Red Oak and get my degree there.” 

Liam wanted to argue, but there really wasn’t anything wrong with Killian’s plan. Lots of people worked a year or two, or longer, before getting a degree. He wanted to say that Boston College was a lot more prestigious than Red Oak, but he knew full well it was a pretty weak argument. Killian would save a lot of money by transferring to Red Oak, not to mention gaining job experience. He let out a long breath and shared a meaningful look with his wife. 

“Well okay, then,” she said, her signature grin filling her face, “let’s plan a wedding!”

*******************************************************

A date was set for mid-August, giving Emma two weeks between the wedding and the first day of her senior year. Unfortunately, Elsa wouldn’t be back from her study abroad program in time for the ceremony. It also gave them only three weeks to throw a wedding together. Thankfully, neither Emma nor Killian were big on grand ceremonies. 

The first item on Ingrid’s checklist was the venue. The bride and groom solved that easily: their own living room. Anna and Ingrid - and Elsa via Zoom - tried to protest that it was too small, but Emma just shrugged them off. 

“We can just pull out all the furniture and line up folding chairs. It’s not like we’re inviting that many people.”

Ingrid was concerned that the second item, the dress, would be impossible. Fate, however, seemed to be in their favor. Emma found a vintage dress that suited her personality perfectly at a thrift store downtown. She hadn’t even been dress shopping that day. Ingrid had taken her for ice cream after one of her prenatal appointments, and they had decided to stroll around the square with their ice cream cones. They were simply walking along the sidewalk, licking scoops of chocolate ice cream, and suddenly, there it was, displayed in a window. 

Emma wasn’t even sure it was meant to be a wedding dress, but it didn’t really matter. It was a cream colored, empire-wasted, sleeveless dress with one tier on the bottom of the long skirt. The fabric had a delicate floral pattern in light gold that shimmered when Emma moved. The top was a halter, which flattered Emma’s fuller bust due to her pregnancy. The empire waist also masked her growing baby bump and provided plenty of room in case she gained more in the next few weeks. When she tried it on, Ingrid started to cry. 

An employee stopped to admire Emma. “We just got that in yesterday,” she told her. “A woman told us it was her mother’s prom dress in 1976.”

Emma’s mouth fell open as she locked eyes with Ingrid. Her foster mother pressed her hands to her mouth and let out a happy squeak. 

“It’s fate, Emma,” she told her, and the two embraced. 

They left the store with the dress lovingly wrapped in its original box, having paid a whopping thirty-five dollars and seventy-five cents. 

 Every single item on Ingrid’s list was checked off with simple solutions by the bride and groom:

Killian’s tux? Well, if Emma was wearing a 70s prom dress from a thrift shop, Killian would find a thrift store suit, too.

The food? A potluck lunch would do just fine. 

The cake? The ones at the grocery store would do. As George Banks said in Father of the Bride, a cake is just flour, eggs, and sugar, right? Or something. 

The only thing Killian was concerned about was a place to live. Sure, he knew his brother and Ingrid would never kick them out, and there was at least a modicum of privacy in his attic suite. Still, it would be a little awkward, for one. More than that, however, was Killian’s pride. If he was really providing for Emma and the baby, he should be able to put a roof over their heads. 

His pride wouldn’t even allow him to go to his own brother with his concerns. Yet, Liam somehow knew anyway. Which was why he greeted Killian at the door one evening, a week and a half before the wedding, with a huge grin on his face and a slip of paper in his hand with an address on it. 

After hearing what Liam had to say, Killian raced eagerly up the stairs to Emma’s room with the good news. He came to a sudden stop in Emma’s open doorway, the smile falling from his face. She was sitting atop her bed, hugging a pillow, hastily wiping tears from her cheeks. Her mother’s journal rested atop the quilt beside her. 

“Hey,” Killian said softly as he entered the room, “what’s wrong?”

Emma slid over to make space for him on the bed, still trying to wipe the traces of tears from her cheeks. Killian picked up her mother’s journal as he made himself comfortable against the throw pillows along the headboard. Emma lifted his arm, put it around her shoulders, and tucked herself against him. 

“Is it the curse?”

She shook her head. “It’s my mom,” she told him softly.

He waited, rubbing her arm gently, and pressing his lips to the top of her head. Emma let out a shaky sigh before continuing.

“I wish I knew where she was. I’m getting married, and she doesn’t even know.”

Killian nodded but said nothing. Emma lifted her head just enough to look up at him. 

“Is it crazy that I wish she could be there?”

“Of course not. She’s your mother.”

“My insane, homeless, unpredictable mother who threw glass bottles at my head.”

Killian chuckled lightly. “True,” he tapped the green, cloth-covered notebook resting on the bedspread, “but I think reading her journal has given you a glimpse of the woman she was before. I think it’s made you realize, maybe for the first time, what you’ve lost.”

“That makes sense. I think I’m also worried that we haven’t heard from her in so long.”

Killian didn’t know what to say to ease her worries, so he cupped her face in his hand, tipped her chin up, and covered her lips with his. The kiss started gentle, intended simply to comfort, but then she responded so fervently and eagerly, that he lost himself. He shifted so she was beneath him, which caused a mewling sound to pass her lips that drove him wild. Emma slid her hand beneath his t-shirt, sending shivers up his spine as her fingers caressed his lower back. His hand grasped her waist, and his thumb slipped beneath the hem of her shirt. At the simple contact, Emma arched into him, and he began to trail kisses along her jawline. With one hand still on his back, her other hand threaded through his hair. She gasped when his lips trailed to the sensitive skin behind her ear, and something about the sound snapped him out of his haze of desire.

Killian pulled away abruptly and sat up, putting some distance between them. Emma still lay there on the bed, her face flushed, her hair splayed out on the pillows beneath her, a look of confusion marring her brow. 

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he said thickly, fixing his own mussed hair with shaking hands. 

“What for?” Emma asked indignantly, sitting up beside him. “We’re engaged.”

He turned to her and took her face gently in both hands. “I know. I love you, Emma, and I plan to cherish you. You deserve that. After everything you’ve been through, I’m not going to take you like this, hurried and frantic, thinking in the back of our minds that someone could interrupt us at any moment.”

Emma glanced sheepishly at the still open door and giggled. “Then close the door next time.”

He laughed with her and pulled her to him, holding her gently. He ran his fingers through her slightly tangled hair. 

“I want to make love to you. Slowly. Thoroughly.”

Emma shivered in his arms. “Are you trying to torture me on purpose?”

He laughed again. “I feel a bit tortured, myself, truth be told. But we only have a week and a half. Then we’ll have the time and the privacy we deserve.”

“Time maybe. But privacy?”

Killian pulled the forgotten slip of paper from his pocket. “Yes, privacy.”

Emma snatched it from his hand, looking at it curiously as she settled in the middle of the bed with her legs crossed. “An address?”

“Our address,” he told her, grinning broadly.

“For real?” Emma’s eyes widened.

“For real.”

Emma squealed and threw her arms around his neck. He laughed as she peppered kisses all over his face. 

“How?” she finally asked. 

“There’s a professor of archaeology taking a sabbatical to do a dig in Greece. He told Liam he was looking for someone to take care of his house while he’s gone. So it’s ours. For free.”

“For free?”

Killian shrugged. “Well, there are also some maintenance things on the house I’m agreeing to do for him free of charge, but basically.”

Emma gazed in shock and happiness at the paper in her hands. “It’s too good to be true.”

“It’s fate.”

Emma’s eyes shone with happy tears as she looked back up at him. “It really is.”

Killian was ready to throw caution to the wind and press Emma back down into the pillows when Ingrid appeared in the doorway. He was worried what she would say, seeing him on Emma’s bed, but Ingrid seemed too ecstatic to notice. 

“We’ve found her!” she told them. 

“Who?” Emma asked. 

“Your mom!”

[eastwesthomeisbest]

🎃 HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🎃

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

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @lifeinahole27 @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke

[enchanted-swans]

CAPTAIN SWAN - RAPUNZEL Re-imagined the s7 Rapunzel episode again! I'm a CS fan at heart and forever. ♥ You can check out my first s7 Rapunzel-CS edit here. I hope you enjoy them! ♥

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT CREDIT. PLEASE DO NOT ERASE THE WATERMARK. I don’t put big watermarks so people can enjoy the fanarts. I trust your respect in people’s work. Thank you.

[antiling-but-simic]

S33k the Highb100d is gonna be the next CSAU I'm calling it right now.

An MSPFA with a simple AU concept from a prominent member in the community? Yeah it's happening again

[ophii]

aurora hyperfixation is slowly returning.... cs au doodles come forth...

[cssecretsanta2020]

SO MANY SANTAS! BUT there's always room for more!

This event welcomes all santas old, new, santas that haven't made anything in a while, santas that have never made anything.

The gifts don't have to be fanfic or art. It can be anything from icons, gifs, playlist, fic recomendations, poem, anything! As long as its Captain Swan related/inspired and based off what your giftee likes!

SIGN UP TO BE A SECRET SANTA NOW HERE

Already signed up? Check the list twice for your name HERE

Can't be a Santa? Read about being Santas Helper HERE

SIGN UPS CLOSE NOVEMBER 26th! PAIRING GO OUT NOVEMBER 29th-30th!

[overlordofthelollipopguild]

Taking That Second Chance, Chapter 7 - A Captain Swan, Once Upon A Time Fanfic

Start here on FF.net and here on A03.

Chapter 7 is here and here.

Note: I know that in canon, Regina tried to train Emma in magic the same way she was taught, so using anger and negative emotions to use magic, but I'm going with the idea that perhaps at that time, Regina didn't fully understand Emma was truly a Light Witch, so after Regina figured it out, she trained Emma better. The reason I'm mentioning this is because there's an explanation of Light and Dark magic in the chapter and I'm trying to head of the nitpickers in the reviews/comments.

Also, TRIGGER warning for mild mentions of alcoholism and addiction.

Chapter 7

“Choices are the hinges of destiny.” – Pythagoras  

A bright light spilled out of the Wishing Well of Storybrooke as the group from the Enchanted Forest flew out of the portal. 

Snow landed first tucking and rolling as she lost her footing. Laying on her back, she looked up at the bright sky, finding herself in a different set of woods than the ones in the Enchanted Forest. Pushing herself up, she looked around, recognizing the well. 

She was back home. 

As Marian stumbled out, she maneuvered so that she landed on her back with Roland tightly tucked against her chest. Her breath left her as her back hit hard ground, eyes closing and teeth clenching at the pain. 

Roland cried against her, scared and overwhelmed over the realm traveling, not understanding exactly what happened. 

Mulan and Aurora stumbled out next, both tumbling to their knees close to the well. Mulan looked around for any threats. Finding none, she stood and helped Aurora up, glancing over her for any injuries. 

Finally, Anton brought up the rear falling over the edge last and flat onto his back onto the ground. He heaved heavily trying to catch his breath. It took him a moment to get his bearings. 

Snow pushed herself up and looked around wildly. “Where’s Emma?” She hurried over to the well, seeing the portal close. “No, no. Emma!” 

“Hook,” Anton gasped out. “He said they were right behind. Portal was closing.” He pushed himself up, using the wall of the well as an aide. “He was running towards the portal, but he was carrying her. That might’ve slowed him down.” 

“Do you think they missed it?” Aurora asked as she too came towards the well, looking for any inkling that Emma or Hook were coming through. 

Snow stared down into the darkened well, not even able to see the water at the bottom. There was no sign of Emma or Hook. No, no, no. Panic gripped her at the thought of being separated from Emma again. They just found each other; now Emma was stuck in another realm with the most dangerous and notorious pirate in their land. Tears pricked at her eyes. She was a horrible mother. She couldn’t keep her daughter twenty-eight years ago, and she lost her again now. What if they couldn’t find another portal? What if Emma was stuck there for good?

“At least Cora didn’t come over with us.” Mulan stated grimly. “Kicking her away from us as we travelled through realms must’ve worked.”

“What does that mean?” Aurora asked. “Is she still alive?” 

Marian stood, loosening her tight hold on Roland, who calmed down somewhat, but just barely. “Does it matter? She’s not here, which means she can’t terrorize any of us anymore.” That was certainly a relief for all of them. She brushed dirt off of Roland’s cheek. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

Roland just nodded, clinging to his mother. “Want to go home, Mama.”

Marian swallowed. She hadn’t wanted to go through the portal, and now they were separated from Robin. Again. Her poor husband was probably going out of his mind with worry not knowing where Roland was or if he was even alive. 

“We need to find a portal back.” Snow said. 

“Are there portals here?” Marian asked. She needed a portal back to the Enchanted Forest, back to Robin, but with this being the Land Without Magic, Marian doubted finding a portal would be easy.

“No.” Snow said. “The Dark One is here, so maybe he knows of some way? I can’t leave my daughter in the Enchanted Forest with a man I can’t trust she’s safe with.”

“Even if she’s not safe with Hook, she sure knows how to handle him.” Mulan grumbled. She glanced around the woods before turning to Snow. “This is your world. What do we do now?”

Snow looked down the well one last time with the vain hope she might see Emma. Closing her eyes, Snow took a breath. She’d find a way back to Emma. Even if she had to make a deal with the Dark One. Opening her eyes, Snow turned back to the group. “We head into town, get you all settled, and I reunite with my husband and grandson.” Her grandson who might very well hate her for leaving his mother behind. 

“Let’s go then.” Marian said. “I for one could use some food and a bed.” Then maybe discuss a portal with the Dark One. 

The others agreed and followed Snow through the woods into the town. 

*****************************

He really should’ve waited until the afternoon when school got out. Reuniting with her now would only distract her, but after a long night of thinking over Liam and Henry’s words, Jefferson knew he couldn’t wait any longer to reunite with his daughter. Even though he was sweating from nerves and second guessing himself, Jefferson stood still staring at the bus as it came down the street.

Here we go. 

He watched the bus pull up to the school parking lot. Swallowing, Jefferson walked closer as the fourth graders hopped off the bus. Come on, Hatter, you can do this. 

Jefferson watched each face, searching for the familiar face of his daughter. 

Soon enough, Henry exited the bus with Liam close behind him. His breath caught in his throat as Grace appeared behind the boys. Her smile was wide, laughing at something one of the boys said. 

Jefferson stepped closer. Taking a deep breath, he needed to get to her. It was now or never. 

“Grace!” He called out, hoping she’d recognize his voice. 

Grace froze. 

Liam and Henry paused as they too heard her name, both turning, both looking surprised when they saw him behind Grace, though he was still a good distance away. 

“Grace!” He called out again, his throat tightening the longer it took for her to turn around. She hates me. What am I even doing here? I knew this was a bad idea. Gods, I should’ve left her alone. She’s probably happier without me. 

Finally, she slowly turned around. Tears and disbelief were in her brown eyes when she took in the sight of him. 

Then suddenly she was sprinting towards him. “Papa!” 

Relief filled him as he realized that her tears were joyful ones, so he knelt down just in time to catch her in his arms. 

Her arms locked around his neck as she buried her face in his shoulders, sobbing into him. “Papa, papa, you found me. I can’t believe you found me.” 

Guilt ate at him at her words. She believed he’d been looking for her just as she’d been looking for him. He swallowed again, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat. Grace deserved the truth. No more cowardice and no more lies. Jefferson squeezed her tightly one last time before releasing her to look at her. He brushed some loose strands of her dark blonde hair behind her ear. Gods, she looked so much like her mother. That only struck his heartache all the more. 

“Grace, I…” He choked on his words for a moment. Once he told her the truth, she might very well hate him then. “I missed you so much.” Emotions overwhelmed him. Guilt, fear, remorse, everything hitting as he looked into her guileless brown eyes. 

“Papa, it’s okay.” Grace smiled. “I missed you too. I’m so glad you found me.”

Jefferson winced. Here came the hard part. He needed to be honest with her. “Grace I love you so so much. You mean absolutely everything to me. I need you to know that.” 

“I know that.” Grace’s brow furrowed, confused as to why he was telling her this.

“Grace, I wasn’t cursed the same way everyone else was.” Jefferson began. “Regina left my memories intact even as she gave me knew memories. Two lives in my head drove me to insanity. I didn’t know what was real somedays.” Jefferson swallowed thickly. “Even with two lives in my head, I had a huge house and wealth, but Regina took you from me. She put you right in front of me but made sure we could never be together. For twenty-eight years, all I could think about was how I failed you all the while watching you live a happy life with two very alive parents. I’m your father and I was supposed to protect you, but I let Regina scare me into one last job.” He paused, letting his words sink in, hoping Grace would understand. 

In the distance, the bell for school rang and Liam and Henry looked between father and daughter and the school building before shrugging. They’d let the teachers know what was going on, so they headed inside, letting Grace have her time with her father. 

“She tricked me, and I left you alone. It was the biggest mistake of my life and I can’t tell you how much I regret it.” He made sure to look into Grace’s eyes as he continued speaking. “When the curse broke, I knew where you were, but I thought you’d hate me for abandoning you and I was a coward. I let my own guilt rule my decisions, and thought staying away from you was for the best.”

Grace’s face fell as he spoke. Did he not want her? Was he saying goodbye for good?

“You were so happy under the curse.” Jefferson swallowed, tears gathering in his eyes. “I thought it was better for you to stay away. I’m still not sure if I should be in your life. My time away from you really did a number on me. I’m not exactly the most stable parental figure at the moment.” He paused again, this time to take a breath, hoping he’d be brave enough to continue. “I do love you. I want you to come home with me, but if that’s not what you want…if you want to stay with your cursed parents then I will be more than happy to let you because you deserve the best life you could possibly have even if I’m not in it.”

There. He got it all out. 

“Papa,” Grace let her tears fall. “You’re so stupid.” She hugged him fiercely. 

Jefferson blinked. Okay, was that an answer? He wasn’t sure but he hugged Grace back. “Does that mean you’re not mad at me?”

“No, Papa.” Grace mumbled into his shoulder. “I can come home after school, right?”

“My home?” Jefferson asked, wanting to be sure. “What about our neighbors…you’re other parents?”

Grace pulled away. “They’ve been helping me look for you. They want to help you out, like they did before the curse, but they want to start their own family.”

“Really?” Jefferson huffed out in disbelief. Grace wasn’t mad, and she wanted to come home. Fuck, he worried himself to death for no reason. Maybe he needed therapy. No, he definitely needed therapy. Not with Archie though. God, did they even have other therapists in Storybrooke? He shook his head a bit. He’d worry about that later. “Yeah, okay, I’ll pick you up here after classes and we’ll go talk to them.”

Grace beamed at him. “Okay.” She hugged him again. “Promise me you’ll be here?”

“I promise.” Jefferson said. “I swear to you I will be here.” He wanted to reenforce the idea to her that he wasn’t going to disappear again. Maybe family therapy wasn’t off the table. 

She nodded and reluctantly went inside, looking over her shoulder multiple times just to make sure he was still there. 

Jefferson sighed. Well, step one, reuniting with Grace was done. Now he needed to learn how to be a proper father again.

Crap. 

*****************************

David entered Granny and Ruby’s private apartment on the ground floor of the Inn, looking for them after Art, the other cook, told him they were delayed from working today. “Ruby, Granny, you here?”

Feet pounded down the stairs and Ruby came into view, her expression one of pure panic. “We can’t find my cloak!” 

Her cloak that protected her from turning into the wolf during the full moon. While she hadn’t needed it in ages, with them being in a new realm with magic, Ruby was terrified about how the wolf would act during the moon. With the curse, they relived the same day over and over, but there wasn’t magic either. What if the wolf was feral now after being dormant for so long? What if she was a danger to everyone? 

The stairs creaked as Granny followed her. “We’ll find it. No need to worry, Red.” Her calm exterior was the reassurance Ruby needed, but inside, she was worried herself since with having magic in Storybrooke they weren’t sure how the wolf would react come the first full moon.

“What if we can’t find it in time?” Ruby asked, fear clear in her tone. “The full moon is just over a week away.” 

“Plenty of time then.” David said, following Granny’s lead to keep Ruby calm. “If we can’t find it, then we’ll figure something out.” He clasped a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I promise.”

Ruby relaxed slightly before stiffening again. Her head tilted in a way David knew meant her hearing picked something up. “Hold on. Is that…?” She raced out of the room, leaving David startled before he and Granny followed her. 

Just as David entered the parlor of the Inn, he saw a group of women, a man, and a small child. 

Ruby was hugging… “Snow!” David exclaimed hurrying over as Ruby and Snow pulled apart. 

Snow didn’t have time to recover from Ruby’s fiercest bear hug before Charming came in sweeping off her feet in a hug, his lips pressing hard against hers. “Charming.” She breathed, smiling against his kiss. 

As David set her down, before he could even speak, he was forcefully pulled away and thrown into a wall.

“Anton!” One of the women exclaimed shocked. 

“You!” A large, unshaven man with long dark brown curly hair pinned David to the wall with hatred in his eyes. “You killed my family! I should kill you too!” His hands gripped David’s throat tightly. 

“Anton, wait.” Snow and Mulan both moved to pull Anton off of David. Marian shielded Roland from the scene by hurrying back out of the Inn, fearful of her toddler becoming even more traumatized than he already was after everything with Cora. 

David struggled to breathe through the vice of Anton’s hands.

“No, I won’t let you protect this monster.” Anton snarled at the women. His hate filled eyes turned back to David. “You took everything from me.” Anton squeezed tighter. “How would your father, King George, feel if I killed you now?”

Snow, Ruby, and Granny all realized the same thing at once. Anton didn’t want revenge on David. He wanted revenge on James. 

If David hadn’t been fighting to breathe, he would’ve realized it too. 

“Anton, Prince James died thirty years ago.” Snow snapped, hoping she’d get through to the giant. “My husband is James’ identical twin brother David.”

Anton didn’t loosen his grip right away, but slowly he lessened the pressure around David’s neck. “What?” 

David was sputtering. 

“David and James were born to shepherds.” Snow said, trying to keep her wits about her as David struggled. “The Dark One took James when they were babies and George raised him while David was raised by their birth parents. David didn’t even know about James until after James died.” Snow cautiously approached Anton, placing a hand on his arm. “David isn’t James. He’s a good man. You need to release him.”

Anton slowly let David go and stepped back. He let David catch his breath before asking, “You really aren’t James?”

David breathe harshly, taking a minute before he found his voice. It was raspy as he spoke. “No. I never met him.” David coughed as his lungs begged for relief. He took another deep breath. “I know he was a bastard just like George. I’m sorry for what he did to you.” He coughed again, his throat bruised.

Granny appeared with a glass of water for David, which he took gratefully. 

“I’m sorry.” Anton whispered. “The last time I saw your face it was helping other humans murder my brothers. They were all I had left. They raised me.”

“Anton, I’m so sorry.” Snow patted his arm comfortingly. “I know it can never make up for what James did to you, but I truly wish things were different. I swear to you, David and James are completely different men.”

Tears formed in Anton’s eyes and he nodded as his throat thickened with emotions. He focused on David again. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you.”

David waved him off. “Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long for James’ reputation to catch up with me.” 

Snow turned to Granny and Ruby. “Anton, Mulan, Marian, and Aurora came over from the Enchanted Forest. They need rooms until we can get them on their feet.” 

“Of course.” Granny nodded. She led Anton and Mulan away towards the front counter. Aurora ducked out to let Marian know that the fight was over. 

Snow hugged David tightly, the adrenaline from watching him almost die still in her system. 

David leaned on her, still struggling to regain his breath. Anton’s grip was tight enough to leave bruises, but he hoped he didn’t have to go to the hospital. That’s when he realized something. “Wait, where’s Emma?” 

Snow’s expression crumbled. “The portal closed before she and Hook could come through. It happened so fast. Cora pulled Aurora through and then the rest of us fell in. Emma was separated from us. She’s still there.”

David swallowed though it was hard to do. His little girl was lost to them again. “Emma’s resourceful and smart. She’ll find a way back to us.” 

“I hope so, Charming.” Snow buried her face into his chest.

“Hold on, did you say Hook?” Ruby asked. “As in the legendary Captain Hook? He’s real?”

Snow sighed unhappily. “Not only is he real, but if we’re not careful, he’ll be Emma’s new boyfriend.” 

Shocked, David could only exclaim. “What?” 

*****************************

Killian started a fire and kept Emma close to it, but without a change of clothes, he feared they’d both grow ill. He watched her unconscious form with concern. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t broken anything, but she’d have a hell of a bruise on her back. 

Even so, he checked periodically to make sure she was still breathing. 

With the portal closed, they’d have to figure out their next steps. Portals were hard to come by without magic beans now. He pulled the dried bean Emma gave him from his coat pocket. 

He wondered why Emma insisted on keeping a dried up, useless little thing like this; there couldn’t be any magic left, could there? 

His eyes traveled to the pool of water at the center of the clearing. What was the legend again? That the waters could restore life? Killian looked at the bean in his hand. Was it possible? Would the waters of the lake restore the bean?

A jolt of excited hope shot through his heart as he stood up and walked over to the water. Carefully, he held the chain from which the bean hung between his index finger and thumb. Please work. Lowering the chain, he dipped it underneath the water. 

Holding his breath, not knowing how long it would take, he watched the bean in the clear water. After a minute, the bean seemed to glow briefly before slowly turning from brown into a translucent, sparkling white. 

Killian grinned as he pulled the bean from the water. It actually worked. The bean was restored, which meant Emma had a way home.

The thought stopped him short. His first thought should’ve been that he had a way to exact his revenge. He was one step closer to killing the Dark One. Yet, his first thought concerned Emma. He looked over to her prone form. He could leave now and she wouldn’t be able to stop him; he’d get to the Dark One, magic be damned. 

Except it would be bad form to leave her. His heart didn’t want to anymore than his good form did. What about Milah? Why was he so concerned over a stranger when his revenge was within reach? In three-hundred years this was the closest he’d been to getting to the Dark One. He knew he couldn’t use the dagger, which was why he bottled some Dreamshade in the hopes that such an incurable poison would be the key. However, since Emma told him that the Dark One brought magic to Storybrooke, he tried to think of ways to get close to the crocodile, knowing that Rumplestiltskin would be on his guard if he ever saw him. He knew Emma wouldn’t help him since she was already against him getting his revenge. Though considering it was Rumplestiltskin he was after, Killian didn’t quite understand why she was so invested. On the beanstalk when she admonished him for his suicide mission, Killian could’ve sworn he saw grief in her eyes as though he meant something to her.

That was impossible though since they barely knew each other. Yet, since he met her, Killian couldn’t deny that there was a deep, intangible connection he felt towards her, and he was almost certain she felt it too.

Having never experienced anything like it, Killian wasn’t sure how to describe it other than this desire to know her, protect her, and be near her. If he was honest with himself, he hated this feeling, but he couldn’t help being curious about such a mystery. What was it about Emma that sparked this connection? Was it because she was the Savior? Was it because she had magic? Or worse, was she using magic to make him feel this way? He doubted that last bit. Emma truly didn’t seem comfortable with her magic even though she was far more advanced than any novice he’d encountered. More than that, she didn’t seem the type of person to manipulate people, and he would know having been that person and having worked with people like Cora and Regina.

Killian wished he had an answer. Especially since whatever was going on between him and Emma pushed Milah so easily from his mind in a way he’d never allowed before. He loved Milah so deeply and fiercely he thought he’d never get over her. She was his first love. They had only a few short years together before it all ended violently and abruptly. Killian despised Rumplestiltskin down to the marrow in his bones for ripping his happy ending away from him. Yet, here was this beacon of light crashing into his life so unexpectedly that he wasn’t prepared for her. 

It was a bitter pill to swallow and truth be told, Killian wanted to resent Emma for it, but he couldn’t quite find the strength to do so. With his mind a tumultuous whirlwind of emotions, Killian returned to Emma’s side, sitting beside her with his stomach full of knots as he thought over the choices he made in his life and about his revenge.

Anger, bitterness, hatred. These were the emotions he wrapped his heart in for so long he felt terrified to peel them away. Since Liam’s death, he wallowed in such darkness, which only intensified after Milah’s murder. He failed to get revenge for Liam’s death and the king lived on to continue his bloodline despite Killian’s efforts. He couldn’t fail Milah too. He needed to kill the Dark One. He couldn’t let some white witch, no matter how beautiful, get in the way of his goals. 

His revenge was all he had, and all he had ever lived for. At one time he thought he could let it all go for Baelfire, but the boy proved that opening one’s heart to love of any kind, whether it be familial as he had with Baelfire and Liam or romantic as he had with Milah, wasn’t worth the pain. He needed to protect his heart and if death was the final solution, so be it. No one cared whether he lived or died. His crew was gone, likely swept up in the curse and better off for it. He had no family. No one would miss him. After all villains don’t get happy endings. Villains only begot and received tragedy. 

After living so long, death was the only ending he truly needed and the only peace he would ever get from his torment. 

He fiddled with the magic bean, looking at the final key for his revenge. He was so close he could taste it. Yes, he’d get Emma home and go with her, but then they’d part ways and he’d finish what was started centuries ago. He truly hoped that his ending would mean the end of the crocodile as well, but that remained to be seen until he got to Storybrooke and assessed his options. Fortunately, he was a patient man when the occasion called for it.

A groan broke him from his rumination. His eyes instantly flicked to her as Emma slowly came to awareness. Worry for her well-being overtook him much to his irritation. Killian remained silent as she got her bearings, quickly pocketing the bean from her sight. 

The first thing Emma was aware of when she returned to consciousness was the stiff, aching pain shooting up and down her back. Her lungs breathed sharply and painfully as she adjusted her body in order to see her surroundings. The sun was higher in the sky and the waters of Lake Nostos not far from her. But where was everyone else? What happened to the portal?

“Afternoon, princess.” Hook’s tone had bite to it. “Sleeping the day away while the rest of us commoners have work to do?”

Confused as to why he was angry, Emma turned her attention to the pirate captain sitting near her. His eyes were hard and that muscle in his jaw ticked with irritation. What the hell happened while she was unconscious? “Hook, the portal.” It was hard to talk through the pain. Damn, she’d kill for a bottle of Aleve and an ice pack. “What happened?”

He hated seeing her in pain, wishing there was more he could do, and he hated himself for fucking caring about her. “It closed. Everyone else fell through and we remain stranded.” 

Emma eyed him, knowing he was holding something back. What was going on with him? Was it because he lost his chance at revenge? No, that couldn’t be it. Killian had the bean and he was intelligent enough to know the waters would fix the bean. After all, he’d done so in the original timeline. “You healed the bean. We have that, and I’m sure the Jolly is docked somewhere close by.” 

Killian stared at her for a long, scrutinizing moment. “I never told you I had a ship or her name.” 

“If I’m going to tell you how I know about the Jolly or that you’d use the waters on the bean, then we’re going to need a lot more rum than what’s in your flask.” Emma sighed. “How far to your ship?” 

“Too far for you in the state you’re in.” Killian said. “How are you feeling?” His tone was neutral, but Emma saw the worry in his eyes. 

“I’ll live.” Emma sighed. She didn’t feel like bones were broken, but she certainly felt beaten up. “Don’t worry about it. The sooner we get to the Jolly, the sooner I can tell you everything.” Emma pushed herself up unsteadily. 

In a flash, Killian was next to her, supporting her with an arm around her waist, just below the spot where most of the pain was centered. “You can’t walk in your state.”

“What are you going to do, carry me?” Emma arched a brow. “I know I’m lighter than the rum barrels you’re used to, but I doubt you’d be able to carry me from here to your ship.” 

The back of his neck prickled as her words unsettled him. Shaking himself, Killian had an idea. “Perhaps not, but you know how to teleport, don’t you?” It was a guess, but he knew Emma wasn’t entirely incapable. 

Emma eyed him, surprised he hadn’t cottoned on sooner that she wasn’t entirely new to magic. “I’m still working on teleporting myself, but I’m an export at teleporting hooks.” Her joke only earned a raised eyebrow from him. Sighing, Emma explained. “I can’t teleport to somewhere I’ve never been, but fortunately for us, I’ve been on the Jolly before. I’ve never teleported myself and someone though, so hold tight.”

She’d been on the Jolly before? Killian’s confusion only grew as Emma tightly wrapped her arms around him. Shaking himself, he leaned into her personal space with a smirk. “Don’t worry about getting too handsy, love.” He tightened his hold around her waist, though kept his hand in an appropriate spot.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Flirt away, Hook. We’ll talk about what’s eating at you later. Let’s just get going.” 

How did she read him so well? His smirk fell and he pulled back, though allowing her to still lean on him for support. He’d get his answers soon enough, he hoped.

“Close your eyes. Think of your quarters on the Jolly.” Emma whispered in her ear.

Killian’s arms wrapped around her as he followed her command. 

Emma took a breath and reached out for her magic, hoping she had enough energy left to try something like this. Pushing away her worry over teleporting farther than she’d ever tried before, Emma concentrated on picturing the Captain’s quarters on the Jolly. The bed in it’s wooden frame. The slanted beams which divided the windows. The small table that seated four. Take us to the Jolly. She told her magic and it responded in kind. 

Her body floated away in a whisky white cloud, though even as she became nothingness, she held tight to the nothingness Killian became. It wasn’t long before she felt herself solidifying and her feet were on hard ground. Opening her eyes, she found herself in his room on the Jolly, Killian himself in her arms. Sighing in relief, Emma released her hold and stepped back. Her vision swam suddenly and her feet gave way, but she didn’t hit the ground. 

Killian lifted Emma in his arms, depositing her onto his bed. “Sleep, Emma. You need your rest.”

“Home.” She mumbled before her eyes fluttered closed. 

Killian swallowed, wondering when exactly Emma visited his ship and her strange words. She was an enigma he was going to figure out. 

For now though, he’d find food, and maybe have a drink or two. 

*****************************

At the end of the school day, Liam and Henry watched Grace walk away with her father, a skip in her step. 

Liam hated the bitterness festering in his heart. Where was his papa? Why couldn’t he reunite with him? Why did Grace get her father back and he was stuck alone?

Henry put a an arm around Liam. “It’s okay, Liam. We’ll find your dad too. I promise.” 

He wished he had Henry’s optimism. Every day that passed, Liam lost hope that his father was even in Storybrooke. They’d never be reunited. As kind as Henry and David were, and as much as Henry reassured him that Liam had a place in their family, Liam felt doubt creep in his bones. Was he an orphan after all? “What if we can’t find him?” 

“Then you’ll stay with us.” Henry answered confidently. 

Liam wasn’t so sure. 

The boys made their way towards the bus. 

Not wanting to think about his lack of parents, Liam changed the subject. “Did you figure out what’s going on with your book?”

Henry’s nose wrinkled. “No. It’s weird though.” He hopped onto the bus with Liam and they headed towards the middle seats they often occupied. “The new pages aren’t exactly stories from what I can tell.”

“What are they then?” Liam asked as they sat down.

“Honestly, it reads like a history book.” Henry said. “Something about Arcana, Arcanum, darkness, powerful magic. It all sounds long ago, like it’s a history of magic.”

“What’s Arcana and Arcanum?” Liam asked. 

“No idea.” Henry said. “I haven’t had time to really sit and read over everything. I don’t think it’s English though. Like some words are, but other words I can’t figure out.” Henry wasn’t sure, but from the little bit he picked up, it was as though the new pages were in multiple languages, but why? Who would write a history book where every sentence wasn’t fully in one language? 

“Is there a title page somewhere?” Liam tapped on his knee, ready to get back to the loft and hide away from his thoughts. 

“Not that I found.” Henry shrugged. “I wonder if Grandpa knows anyone who can read other languages.” 

Liam arched a brow. “What about Google? I mean, wouldn’t the internet be easier?” 

Ironically, Henry hadn’t thought about that. He knew the Enchanted Forest had English, but did they have all the same languages as the Land Without Magic, or could some languages be different? “It’s not a bad idea. It makes sense that if English exists in the Enchanted Forest, then other languages would too. I still think we should try and find Pinocchio too. Like I said, he changed the book once, so maybe he knows what’s happening now.”

“It couldn’t hurt.” Liam agreed. “Where can we start looking?”

“Well from what I overheard at Granny’s, Marco is still looking for him.” Henry said. “So he’s avoiding his dad. He’s hiding, but I wish I knew why.”

“He’s a former puppet, right?” Liam asked. “Maybe he’d be comfortable in the woods with his cousins Oak and Pine.”

Henry snorted at the joke, but Liam made a good point. The woods were vast and there was plenty of places to hide. 

Before long, the bus reached their stop on Main Street and the boys got off.

“Henry!” 

Henry’s head whipped towards the sound of Snow White’s voice. 

Snow and David stood nearby, both smiling widely, David’s arm around Snow’s shoulders. 

“Grandma!” He ran up to her, throwing his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. “You’re back!” Excitement overcame him. Grandma was back, which meant Mom was back. He grinned up at her. “Where’s Mom? What was the Enchanted Forest like? Did you beat Cora?” 

As he volleyed his questions, Snow’s face fell. She and David shared worried looks, bracing themselves for how Henry would react.

Liam walked over cautiously, standing near David. 

Snow chewed the inside of her lip as she pulled back, being sure to meet Henry’s eyes. “Henry, I’m so sorry. Cora kept Emma from the portal. She’s still in the Enchanted Forest.” 

Henry’s stomach dropped. “What?” What did she mean his mom was still in the Enchanted Forest? No, she was supposed to come home. 

Seeing Henry’s distress hurt Snow’s heart. Some mother she was; her daughter was abandoned once again. If only she’d been faster and gotten to Emma before falling through the portal. She couldn’t even find relief in the fact that Emma wasn’t alone since she wasn’t entirely sure Hook could be trusted with her daughter. Snow truly hoped Emma was right about trusting Hook, and that the pirate would get her daughter home somehow. “Henry, I’m so sorry. Even though she’s not home, we know she’s alive and I know she is going to find another portal home because all she could talk about was trying to find a way home to you.”

David knelt before Henry, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Your grandmother is right. Nothing is going to stop your mom from finding her way home. Remember, our family always finds each other.”

His throat was too tight with emotions to speak, so Henry nodded yes for his grandparents’ sake. While he believed Snow and David’s words, it wasn’t the same as having his mom back with him. Where would she find another portal? How long would it take? Henry swallowed as his grandparents pulled him into a hug. 

Liam remained off to the side, watching the exchange awkwardly. While he felt bad for Henry, since his mom still wasn’t home, anxiety festered in his gut now that Snow White was back. What if Henry was wrong? What if they decided to put him out on the street? They didn’t owe him anything and it’s not like he was paying his way or pulling his weight.

When Snow and David released Henry, Snow turned to the young boy David had told her about. Her heart ached to find out that Liam had been on his own with no one to take care of him, wearing ragged clothes and starving. While she hoped they could find his father, Liam was more than welcome to stay with them for however long he needed. Noticing how nervous the boy seemed, Snow smiled warmly, and stepped closer to him. “Hello, Liam. I’m Snow.” 

“Hello, ma’am.” He mumbled shyly. 

“Oh please call me Snow.” She put an arm around him. “You’re family now after all.” 

Her words surprised him. Did she mean it or was she just saying that to comfort him and put him at ease? Looking at her welcoming expression, Liam felt that perhaps Henry was right, and that he was slowly becoming an accepted member of this small little family. “Okay.” He said, though it sounded small. He was starting to hope that Henry was right, but there was still a part of him that couldn’t quite believe in their words and reassurances. He wasn’t sure if he would ever feel secure again, even if they ever found his papa. He’d been alone so long that it would take time to get used to being a part of a family again. 

“How about family dinner at Granny’s?” David suggested. “Milkshakes all around.”

His suggestion at least got a smile out of both boys. As the four of them walked to Granny’s with the boys walking ahead, Snow and David looked at each other concerned, both worried about how Henry was taking the news. 

They knew that Emma would find her way home, but they hoped it would be sooner rather than later. 

*****************************

It was dark out as Emma came to, finding herself in Killian’s bed, fully clothed and still sore along her backside. Gingerly, she rolled over onto her side, facing the rest of the room. 

Killian sat at the table, watching her. His eyes were curious as he took her in; Emma was certain he had more questions than she was ready to answer. 

Her eyes flicked away, landing on the table, where a few jars of pickled vegetables and a plate of hardtack rested on the table. A bottle of rum and two glasses were set out. 

Emma’s stomach rumbled, so carefully, she slipped out of his bed and limped to the table. 

“How are you feeling?” Killian asked. He was proud of himself for sounding completely neutral. His feelings were a jumbled mess at the moment; as Emma slept, he thought over his entire life thus far and didn’t like his analysis. Again, his anger wanted to lash out at the woman who made him question everything, but at the same time, he knew it wasn’t fair to Emma to put all of this on her. 

Emma grabbed the rum first, pouring it in her glass to the rim.

Killian raised an eyebrow. 

Emma shrugged. “I told you, we’re going to need a lot of rum for this conversation. Plus, my back is killing me and you don’t have pain killers.” She took a hefty gulp before surveying the jars before her and loading up her plate. 

Killian surveyed her curiously. Emma seemed to know things, but if it was just a part of her magic, why were they going to need the rum? Just what was he about to learn about this infuriatingly intriguing woman? He too began to eat, wondering when he’d get his answers. 

For her part, Emma mulled over where to even begin with such a conversation. Time travel was hard for her to believe and she’d done it twice! Killian tended towards skepticism as she did, though he was more optimistic than she was most of the time. She knew she needed to be honest; there weren’t going to be any secrets between them. Not if she could help it anyway. The thing was, should she let him ask his questions first or tell him everything and then he could ask? It might be easier to give him the full story, but it was a lot to take in. 

After a while of them eating in silence, Killian finally spoke. “You said you’d tell me everything. What exactly is everything?”

Emma paused, unable to look him in the eyes, not wanting him to read her as he often easily did. Starting from the beginning would be easiest, he’d have all the details… “Okay. Well, I have a lot to go over.” She started. Deep breaths, Emma. “But I need you to listen and save your questions until I’m done, all right?” It would be easier to tell him everything without interruptions. 

Killian could only nod as anxiety settled in his stomach. “All right.”

“So, here’s how this story goes.” Emma began by telling him how Henry found her in Boston and how he brought her to Storybrooke. She spoke of her animosity with Regina, her deal with Gold for Ashley’s baby, Graham’s death, her ascendency to Sheriff, her kidnapping, Snow’s brief imprisonment, Henry almost dying, slaying the dragon, and breaking the Curse. 

He listened intently to her tale. 

“Now, the thing is, when Mom and I came to the Enchanted Forest the first time around, things were different.” Emma carried on. 

The first time around? Killian wanted to ask the question aloud before remembering Emma’s request. 

“So, originally, when we went to my parents’ castle, you and Marian weren’t with us.” Emma said. She saw how curious he was, and hoped he’d let her get everything out first. She weaved her tale of Killian working with Cora, the first trip on the beanstalk, her betrayal of him and his going back to Cora, the first battle of Lake Nostos, how she thought she left him behind, how he used the bean the first time around to follow her to Storybrooke. Emma spoke of his attempts at revenge failing, Henry’s kidnapping, their journey to Neverland, their first kiss, the journey home. “Pan followed us and cast the Dark Curse. Henry couldn’t go to the Enchanted Forest, so he and I were left behind. A year later, you found us and brought us home.” 

Wicked witches, flying monkeys, and their own time travel experience came next. Then Emma told him about the Snow Queen and Elsa and how the Dark One controlled his heart before he was banished from Storybrooke. 

Emma swallowed thickly as tears gathered in her eyes. Now came the hard part. “After Elsa left, there weren’t any villains around. It was peaceful. You and I had dates. You were a part of family dinners and movie nights with my parents and son. Hell, I think Dad was starting to see you as his best friend.” Emma sniffed. “We told each other everything. I told you about my childhood, Henry’s father, things that I never shared with anyone.” Her throat caught. “You told me about Liam and Milah, about things you did working for Pan, about your father…” She closed her eyes. “We didn’t have secrets.” Tears started falling freely. Opening her eyes, Emma couldn’t look at Killian as she remembered his lifeless eyes. “We were heading home and there was this building that burned. The owners hired contractors to fix it and they left crap everywhere. When we passed by it…” Come on, Emma. You can do this. You can tell him. 

“A brick fell and hit you on the head.” Her lips trembled as she held back sobs. “You were right next to me one second and then…then you were gone. There was so much blood.” Her emotions wanted release, but Emma held back, knowing she needed to finish telling him. “When I realized you were dead,” She choked on the word. “I begged you to wake up. I wanted you back so badly. All I could think about was how we just found each other after all the time I wasted pushing you away.” Finally, she found the strength to look at him. It surprised her that his own eyes were glassy, clearly holding back his own emotions. She figured her tale overwhelmed him and adding on that he died might’ve been too much for him. “I passed out. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the Enchanted Forest. I somehow, without a spell, or portal, or potion, time travelled fifteen months into the past. I couldn’t tell you how I did it, but all I can figure is that I wanted you back so much, that my magic responded.” Emma met his eyes. “I love you so much that I couldn’t live in a world where you didn’t exist.”

She sniffed again, wiping away her tears. “So, I decided that I wasn’t going to waste time. I was given a second chance, so I took it. I changed things. Maybe I shouldn’t have and maybe I’m playing God or something.” Emma shook her head. “I don’t know, but I do know that it doesn’t matter now.” Clearing her throat, she leaned forward, carefully taking his hand in hers. “What I do know is that no matter what, time traveling, changing the past, all of it is worth having you back. You’re worth it, Killian.” 

Killian could only swallow as a whirlwind of emotions overwhelmed him. Everything Emma spoke of was hard to believe, but in a world of magic, it wasn’t entirely impossible. But she time travelled for him? Because she loved him? That was much more improbable. He was a villain and his revenge was all he needed. How could someone clearly as good and light as Emma want anything to do with him, let alone love him so strongly that her magic acted out of her control as it did? “I…Time travel?”

Emma nodded. She pulled back, watching him, waiting. It was too much to take in, she knew. He’d need time. Hell, he’d need space. She’d have to give it to him. She promised no secrets, but she also wasn’t going to push him before he was ready. Changing the past or not, Emma wasn’t going to manipulate him into loving her. He needed to come to that on his own. He needed to give up his revenge on his own. “Yes. I still have a hard time believing it and I’m living through it.” 

Killian closed his eyes, massaging his temple, hoping to push away the beginnings of a headache. “You time traveled fifteen months in the past, because I died. Because you love a version of me?” He wasn’t under any illusions that his present self earned any affection from her.

“I love the man you could be.” Emma said. “But I’m not going to force you. You have a choice.”

“My revenge or you?” He snarled, defensive. He was already questioning his life choices and he didn’t want a guilt trip added to that. 

Emma flinched at his tone. “No. You can choose to live your life and let go of your pain and heal. Or, you can pursue your revenge and die and be reunited with Milah in the afterlife.” As much as it hurt to say, she couldn’t force him to let go of his revenge. It was his choice before, and it needed to be his choice now. 

Killian scoffed. “You time travelled to save me, and now you don’t care if I live or die?” He found that hard to believe. 

“No, I do care.” Emma snapped. “I want you to live, but I’m not going to make your choices for you and have you resent me for the rest of your life. You need to decide for yourself who you want to be and what life you want to live.” She leaned back, crossing her arms over his chest. “If you go after Rumplestiltskin, yes, I’ll be devastated, but I refuse to watch you die again. So you and I are going to Storybrooke tomorrow, and then we’ll part ways. You can find me when you make your choice.” 

Her passionate words stirred something in him, but Killian shoved it all down. He truly disliked the way this woman made him feel. 

Emma lost the rest of her appetite, so she grabbed her glass and the bottle of rum and stood. “I know it’s a lot to take in.” He wasn’t the only one overwhelmed with everything. For the first time in a week, she had a chance at privacy, and she was going to take it. “I think I’ll hunker down in the crew quarters for tonight. I’m taking the rum for my back. You have plenty more if you want to drink your problems away.” Okay, low blow since she knew he struggled with alcohol since he was a preteen, but she was tired, sore, and wanted to be alone. Killian wasn’t the only one who lashed at when in pain. 

Killian didn’t watch her leave. His eyes stared at the table, trying to process it all. Emma loved him, or a future version of him at least. One who gave up his revenge for her after only knowing her a few weeks. Three-hundred years he spent in the Hellscape that was Neverland, doing Pan’s grotesque bidding, searching for any means to kill the Dark One without becoming the very creature he hated, all for the woman he believed to be his truest love, and now this captivating stranger strode into his life only to tell him that he gave up everything he fought and suffered for for her? Killian couldn’t understand it. How could he just let it all go?

Worst of all, from how Emma spoke of the future, the Dark One still lived. 

He stood and walked over to his cabinets, where more rum was stored, took out another bottle, and took a rather large, bitter swig, anger running through his veins. Anger at himself for being weak and at Emma for apparently having so much power over him. Agitated, Killian stood and began to pace the length of the room. His future self told Emma everything; did that mean she knew about his childhood as a slave? Did she know about the scars he carried, physical and invisible? She knew about Liam. She knew Killian goaded him, leading to his death, that he was responsible. His skin crawled thinking about how much Emma knew when he knew so little about her. He hated it. He felt…exposed. 

Then there was the fact that Milah apparently meant nothing to him after all. His stomach twisted. Why did he always fail everyone he loved? Killian gulped down more rum, until the bottle was empty. His hand acted before his brain did and the bottle soared through the air, shattering against the wall. A scream of anguish left him, echoing throughout the ship as he fell to his knees. 

In the crew quarters, Emma sobbed, letting out every emotion she’d been holding in since Killian’s death. Her body shook as she cried for the future she lost, the possible future she would have now, losing Killian, losing Killian again if he decided on a different path, everything hit her all at once. Emma had been alone in her life many times, but the despairing loneliness that gripped her now put all of her past to shame. She was adrift at sea with only hope to guide her and she wasn’t sure of that was enough. 

It was too late to go back to the beginning. She made her choice and now she and everyone else would have to live with it for better or worse. 

*****************************

They watched the sunrise from the roof of the library. The young man with his mother’s blue eyes and dark hair and the woman with their father’s curls and brown eyes sat together overlooking the sleepy little town. 

“Don’t get too giddy.” The young man said to his older sister. “The Captain and the Savior will find their way back to Storybrooke.” The pair always were too clever and resourceful. It proved rather infuriating in the past…or future as it were. 

“I know.” She grinned. “And when they get here, we’ll kill them. Or, well, we’ll make it accidental. Like the brick in the last timeline.” She giggled at all of the fun ways to kill the Truest of Love couple. 

He turned to his sister. “You aren’t concerned as to why we have to time travel to kill him again? You don’t think they changed the past in our stead?” They could too. After all, despite his sister’s confidence, Light Magic often won out. Particularly the Arcanum. He shuddered at the thought of the power of the entire Arcanum coming down on them. 

“They follow the rules.” She huffed. “It will be too detrimental for them to time travel as well. Even if they did, they’d try to change very little.” 

“They might not if it means correcting what we’ve done.” He countered. “This is a dangerous game we’re playing. The Grand Design…”

“Oh don’t be so serious.” She chided, pouting. “We have the darkest of magic on our side. We were meant to rule over these plebeians and we will make sure father lives this time to aide our rise to power.”

He wished his sister took the threat of the Arcanum more seriously. “You forget that there are more of them. Particularly the Seventh.” Did she forget how sacred seven was to magic? How much power seven held?

“He won’t do anything to alter history too much.” She was adamant in her beliefs. The Arcanum wouldn’t break the rules of magic. They were confined by them. She and her brother were above them. It was that simple. 

“If it means protecting his family, ensuring that the Savior and her happy ending live on…”

“You doubt our plans.” She stood angrily, cutting off her brother.  “We are this close to achieving our goals. We just need to get rid of…”

“I don’t doubt our plans or you, sister dear.” He corrected. “I just worry that you underestimate them.” 

She scoffed. “You fear them, you mean?”

“I have a healthy respect for their power.” He said. He too stood. “Come on then. Let’s see what Snow White and her prince are up to. If they come, they will seek out allies.”

The sister nodded and the pair teleported away in whirls of black smoke. 

*****************************

It was well past sunrise when Emma went up to the deck, ignoring the pounding headache from the rum. Killian wasn’t anywhere to be found, so she assumed he was probably sleeping off his own hangover in his room. 

Emma walked to the bow of the ship, looking out over the sparkling sea. Sleep hadn’t come easy last night. After her crying ceased, anxiety and doubt kept her tossing and turning and when she dozed off, nightmares plagued her. The rum only numbed the pain in her back, not the one in her heart. She finally gave up around sunrise, lying in her misery as her mind mulled over every decision she made since her arrival to the past. Even though she saved Killian, what was the cost? 

Regina once told her that it was Dark Magic that had a price. Light Magic, so long as it was used for good, only put good out into the world. It was a balance. 

Dark Magic ate away at the user, darkening hearts, corrupting good, while Light Magic only reinforced the goodness of a being. However, with the good came a higher price. Should a user of Light Magic use their magic for evil, then they’d become the darkest of magic users. Light and Dark were antithesis after all. Light couldn’t be used for evil and Dark couldn’t be used for good. It was how Regina explained her magic weakening over the months of her using it for good. 

“I’ve used only Dark Magic my entire life.” Regina said. “Since I’ve been using it for good, it wants to transform into Light Magic. Of course, I slip up and use it for bad, and I’m back where I started. Transitioning from Light to Dark is quick and overwhelming because of temptation. It’s a powerful, corrupting force. It’s addicting. It is an addiction. Going from Dark to Light is harder. It’s like being an alcoholic. You kick it for a bit, but if you aren’t careful, you fall off the wagon. Then you have to start your sobriety all over again. It’s a constant struggle. Since I’m in the midst of it, my powers are weakened from going back and forth. It took me years to build up my Dark Magic and my heart is still darkened. It will take more years for that darkness to go away and for me to grow stronger.”

Emma wondered if her time traveling with her Light Magic was fueled by a dark intent. Selfish, sure, but did selfish mean dark? Would she pay a price for what she’d done? 

She didn’t know and that worried her as much as what would happen between her and Killian now did. Emma sighed, leaning against the railing, feeling the weight of the world crushing down on her. She felt as though she was Atlas, serving her punishment for her going against fate. Maybe. Was fate even really a thing? Her mother liked to think so. Emma heard Snow’s spiels on fate, True Loves, and happy endings often enough. 

Was Killian fated to die, or was she fated to time travel and save him? That was the question. 

So lost in her thoughts, Emma didn’t hear him come onto the deck or his footsteps as he walked towards her. “Doubloon for your thoughts, Swan?” His voice was soft, uncertain, but it still startled her. 

“Hey.” Emma held herself, standing back from him, unsure of where they stood. 

Killian scratched behind his ear, looking away from her. He drunk himself into unconsciousness last night and his head throbbed him into a wakeful state. He took a potion to cure his hangover, and with that came a clarity of thought. He wasn’t sure he wanted to follow in his future self’s footsteps, he wasn’t sure if he wanted a life with her, but he wallowed in his revenge for so long, Killian wondered if it blinded him. Was the life he lived one Milah would’ve wanted for him? Would she want him to have killed, maimed, kidnapped, stolen in her name? 

Killian second guessed every choice he made and where it led him. He wanted to hate Emma Swan for the way he doubted himself and his path, but his heart was too tired. He was tired. And Emma needed to get home to her family. “Are you ready to go?” 

Emma nodded. “Yeah.” She pulled the bean from where it rested in her pocket. Without a thought, she handed the bean over to him. 

Killian fingered it gently, remembering the last time he used one. Shaking his head, he pocketed the bean. “Let’s weigh anchor and sail further out.”

Emma nodded. It didn’t take too long as Killian expertly guided his ship away from the harbor, further into the ocean. Emma took a steadying breath as he threw the bean. 

The swirling portal slowly expanded and Killian sailed his ship straight on into it.

Emma held onto the railing tightly. She was going home and the unknown all at once. 

It was time to brave a new future. Maybe she was strong enough, maybe she wasn’t, but she was going to find out one way or another. 

[donteattheappleshook]

Not Broken At All Chapter 17/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated E

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Thank you thank you thank you @the-darkdragonfly for helping me so much with this chapter I literally wrote at your kitchen table lol.

This one is a bit shorter because I had to move the last scene to the next chapter or it would have been like 10k long…. but hopefully that means chapter 18 is coming soon!

(at least you didn't have to wait a year for chapter 17?)

*******

Part 17

Emma follows Killian’s eyes as they dart towards the ceiling, the deck above their heads. It’s dark out, but not the dark of night, the dark of an oncoming storm, that ominous, looming chill of electricity in the air, the waves lapping against the sides of the ship that rocks unsteadily against the threatening sea. A shiver runs down her spine. Whether Pan’s here or not - he’s fucking furious. 

There’s a knock on the door, Wendy not waiting for permission before pushing it open. “Is he here?” Killian asks, voice low. 

She shakes her head, holding a small, empty vial. “Not yet. But Ianeira sent a warning - he’s on his way and he’s not happy.” She looks out at the first heavy drops that land against the window like bullets. “Obviously.” 

“Get the boys below deck,” he orders, still not raising his voice above the rumble of the storm outside. “Scarlet,” he adds, the younger pirate leaning against the doorframe, “go wake the crew. Tell them to be ready for a fight.” 

“What are you going to do?” Wendy frowns like she already knows the answer. 

“Handle Pan.” 

“Absolutely not.” Emma answers at the same time as Wendy’s “like hell” rings through the air. “This was my idea. I’ll go deal with the consequences,” she insists, but her words are ignored as the two captains continue to argue. Will shoots her a sympathetic shrug from his place in the doorway. 

“We don’t have time to argue,” Killian finally snaps at his second, standing and grabbing Emma’s pants from where she hung them last night before tossing them to her. “Pan and his Lost Boys will be here any minute and we need to make sure the boys are hidden and the crew is ready to defend the Jolly.” 

“Is that an order, Captain?” Wendy asks, arms crossing over her chest and Killian stiffens. Emma didn’t miss the weight put behind the question.

“Cap-” he starts but she cuts him off.

“No. No more of this ‘I’m not the captain’ or two captains bullshit. If you’re going to pull rank and make me follow orders then you don’t get to decide you don’t want to be in charge anymore tomorrow. If this crew is going to put our lives on the line for your plan, and trust you to handle Pan, then you’re going to be the one to make the order. And if you die today -” Her harsh facade breaks just a fraction - “It won’t be because of something I could have stopped.” 

The room is silent as the two stare each other down, the rush and howls of the storm growing louder outside, growing closer as they remain locked in the standoff, Wendy’s ultimatum hanging between them. “Well?” she demands. 

He’s silent for another moment, but then he lets out a sigh. “Bring the boys below deck, make sure they don’t make a sound or Pan will remember that they’re here.” Another hesitation as neither she or Will move and his thumb runs over the ring on his finger. “That’s an order.” 

Wendy’s shoulders both straighten and sag at once as she shifts into her new role, her face blank, betraying nothing, but Emma knows. She can see the hurt and the fear, of his betrayal and of the danger he’s putting himself in as she nods. “Aye, Captain.” 

Killian flinches away from the title just the barest amount before she heads out of the room. 

“What are you gonna tell him?” Will glares at his usurping captain. 

Killian sighs. “I haven’t figured that part out yet.” He reaches for his shirt, pulling it on over his head and turning to find the man still there. “Go wake the crew,” he orders again and Will stares at him for a long moment before doing as he’s told. 

Emma watches him as he dresses, yanking her own pants on and rising from the bed, the buttons of his vest fastened methodically, one by one with practiced fingers before he dons his greatcoat. She realizes what she’s watching as he slides his sword into its sheath, secures it to his hip: a soldier dressing for battle, each piece of his armour clad carefully down to the expression he smooths over his face, the one that hides the man who’d let her in his bed and held her against the threat of the night behind a cold, heartless facade.

“Killian,” she starts, ready to fight him on this. Rescuing the boys was her decision. She’d made them do it. This should be her responsibility. Nobody else's lives should be on the line for her choices. A boom of thunder cuts her off before a flash of lightning brightens the room.

“He’s here,” Wendy tells them, stepping back into the room. Killian doesn’t confirm if his orders have been followed - he doesn’t need to. 

“Let me go,” Emma insists. “I can tell him it was my idea. I can -” 

“No.” They answer in unison and before she can protest a boom of thunder echoes above them and an angry, lilting voice calls out above them. 

“Thieves! Show yourselves!” The demand is followed by a roar of approval, small, young voices calling out in a battle cry she’s heard before. The room goes silent, tension in every line of her body and Killian’s. Wendy looks to her captain, waiting for orders, hands fisted like she’s trying not to barge up there herself. 

Emma sees the barest flash of fear in his gaze before he schools it and turns to her, leveling her with a hard, commanding look. 

“Go to the hold with the children. Promise me you’ll stay down there - that you won’t make a sound.” Emma glares at him, his face only inches away as he speaks so quietly she can barely hear him. He glares back just as defiantly. “Promise me, Swan.” She doesn’t answer. She’s not promising that. Not when it’s her fault Pan’s here and he could hurt them. “They need you. They trust you and they need to stay hidden. If Pan’s reminded they’re here… he might demand their lives in place of the dead we took.” 

Her glare deepens. “I know what you’re doing.” 

The corner of his mouth turns up just a fraction before he straightens it. “Then you should have no problem following through with it.” When her shoulders straighten his hand comes to her cheek. “We can’t risk Pan finding out about you - not while we don’t have a way of defeating him or saving Henry. You can’t protect anyone if you’re dead,” he adds, using her words against her now and her eyes narrow. “You can’t protect Henry if you’re dead.” That one hits hard and Emma knows he’s right - but she still doesn’t like it. She doesn’t want him dead either. 

Pan’s warning rings out again, harsher this time - ‘Come out and face me, coward!’ - and Killian’s shoulders tense. “Fine,” she concedes. “But if things go bad -”

“You’ll stay right here.” It’s a warning, and she almost wants to call him on it, to see what he really thinks he can do to her that’s worse than the situation they’re already in, but she bites her tongue. He takes her silence as the end of the discussion. “Darling,” he calls over his shoulder. “Bring her to the hold and then join me on deck - Darling,” he tries again when she doesn’t respond, but Wendy’s attention is focused outside the cabin, staring out down the hall, a frown starting to pull at her brow and Killian’s matches it. “Wendy?”

“Where’s Will?” 

“What?” 

“Will.” Her voice is low, far away but rising with tightly restrained panic. “He should be back by now. Where’s the crew?” 

As if on cue, a voice rings out loudly above them. “Pan! Two visits in as many days? To what do we owe the honour?” They rush to the stairs, crouched low looking out at where Will stands, alone, facing off against Pan. Fuck. Please don’t be an idiot. She can feel Wendy tense beside her and Killian reaches, grabbing his first mate’s arm. 

“Don’t,” he warns and Emma’s surprised to see her try to yank her arm free. But he holds firm. 

“Scarlet.” Pan sounds annoyed but intrigued nevertheless. “It’s been a long time.” He cocks his head, a small smirk on his childlike face. “You got old.”  

 “Go get the crew,” Killian orders, staring her down and not releasing her until the fight fades slightly from her eyes. He knows how much this must be killing her. “If there’s going to be a fight, we won’t be able to stop him alone. Bring them with you and meet me on deck.” 

Will baulks. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’ve the complexion of a man less than half my age.” He brushes a hand over his scruffless cheek as if to prove it.

There’s still resistance in Wendy’s stance but she nods, dashing off towards the crew’s quarters. Killian turns to her. “Stay here. Don’t let the children leave the hull.” She can only nod, still watching as her new friend continues to bait Pan. “Bloody idiot,” Killian mutters under his breath.

Emma grabs his arm, halting him. She waits until his questioning gaze turns to her. “Be careful. Please.”

He watches her for a moment, eyes darting up to the deck, and then takes her hand, presses a kiss to the back of it and nods the voices above growing louder. He spares her one last glance before dashing up the stairs.

“Hook,” Pan says as soon as he reaches the bow of the ship. “There you are. I don’t like to be kept waiting.” 

“Apologies,” Killian offers with a small bow and a polite smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

“Where are my shadows?” 

“Your shadows? We don’t have any shadows here.” 

“Don’t lie,” Pan snaps and Emma flinches. “You stole eleven lost boys from me. Those were my lives - I won them fair and square. Give them back.” Emma half expects him to stomp his foot, but it’s then that she realizes that he can’t - because he’s not on the deck. He’s flying, or hovering a few feet above it. Wendy had said that Neverland’s magic couldn’t touch the Jolly - does that mean Pan can’t either? Can he not set foot onboard?

“They’re at the bottom of the sea, I’m afraid,” Killian tells him with a wince and she can see the rage building in the small boy.  

“Then I’ll take them from your crew. Eleven of them in exchange for the ones that you took.” Emma casts a glance back down the hall towards the hold where a dozen children hide. 

“No need for that,” Killian begins. “They aren’t to blame for this little misunderstanding. I’m sure we can find a solution where you get what you want that’s fair.” Pan hesitates at the word fair. He loves his games - he loves his rules. 

“Then who is to blame?” he demands. “Bring the thief forward so that he can be punished.”

“Unfortunately we-”

“I did it.” 

“Scarlet,” Wendy hisses in warning, but he’s already taking another step towards Pan. 

“It was my idea.” 

Pan glares. “Why?” 

There’s a pause and then Will smirks. “I just wanted to piss you off. For old time’s sake.” 

The boy’s anger shifts into something cruel and amused. “Well then, you can pay the price for old times sake. You remember how much fun my punishments can be,” he adds. She sees Will’s back go stiff right before Pan’s hand plunges deep into his chest and Emma has to cover her mouth with her hands to catch the scream that tries to escape. The crew stills, petrified. This isn’t the first time they’ve seen this happen.

“Wait!” Wendy shouts as Will lets out a groan of pain. Killian grabs her arm, silencing her and holding her in place. Pan ignores her, pulling his hand free, something bright and red and glowing held in his palm. That can’t be what she thinks it is. 

“Eleven lives,” he muses again, floating easily across the deck, thinking. He gives the thing a small squeeze and Will cries out falling to his knees. Pan smirks, he’s enjoying this, she can tell; he already knows what he wants to do and Emma’s nails dig into her palms, every bone in her body demanding she go up there and not let this happen. It should be her that pays the price. Not Will. 

His fingers tighten around it again and Will stops breathing, hand clutched to his chest where his heart should be until finally, Pan loosens his grip, looking at Will with his head cocked again. “You really did get old, Scarlet. But maybe not old enough…” He looks him over carefully, then the mass in his hand. “Eleven Lost Boy’s lives… so many years - But I think we can make it an even hundred. For old times sake?” he smirks. “That sounds fair,” he decides. “You can pay me back a hundred years.” 

When he squeezes the heart again, Will collapses onto the deck, bits of dust slipping from Pan’s fingers as the light flickers in and out and Emma can see Killian physically holding Wendy back now, knuckles white around the leather of her coat. Nobody breathes. The crew look like it’s taking everything they have not to run - either to Will or away from Pan. Instead they stand frozen. 

She counts the seconds as they go by. One. Two. Three. Four. Five… Will rasps out a strangled cry, fists balling against the wood planks of the deck. Six. Seven. Eight… She watches him grit his teeth, sweat beading along the back of his neck, fighting. Nine. Ten. Eleven…

When she reaches eleven, Will takes his first breath in what feels like hours, the light in Pan’s loosened grip smaller and dimmer but still glowing, still beating. 

“That should do it,” he smiles, returning Will’s heart to his chest.

Will gasps, settling his hand over it as if to feel the beat under it - make sure it’s really there. Then he frowns up at the boy. “Is… is that it?” 

“Scarlet.” It’s Killian who snaps this time. “Below deck. Now.” Emma can’t see the look Wendy gives him when Will defers to her, but it sends him to his feet and across the deck in a second, head bent low. 

“Emma,” he greets with all his usual bravado despite the raspiness of his breath when he finds her on the stairs. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

She punches him in the arm. Hard.  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Ow!” 

“That was so stupid! What the hell were you thinking?” 

Will shrugs. “I owed him one. And I’m not going to let Killian get one up on the galant gestures.” 

“Hook.” Pan says, drawing her attention away before she can hit Will again. “If your crew isn’t going to play fair then they won’t get to play with us anymore”

“I’ll get them in line,” he promises and she can hear the edge in his voice. 

“Good. Do you need a reminder of the rules? You were away for a long time…”

“I remember.” 

Pan nods, happy now - a child getting his way. “Good. Then the game can continue.” He turns, hovering over the railing of the ship and casting them one last glance as the threat of a storm begins to clear. “But no more chances,” he warns. Both Killian and Wendy nod solemnly before he flies off towards the beach. 

As soon as he’s gone, Wendy practically runs towards the cabin. “All of you,” Killian commands, drawing the crew’s attention away from their former captain. “Back to work. Now,” he snaps when they don’t obey immediately. They scatter, finding work to keep them busy. 

Emma has to jump out of the way as the other woman barrels down the stairs, grabbing Will by the shoulders. She turns him one way and then another, hands coming to his face as she does the same to his head, checking for injuries. Finally, her hand settles on his chest and Emma can tell she’s counting heartbeats. Will lets her, not resisting as she checks him for any sign of permanent damage. 

When she seems satisfied, she raises furious eyes to his, the hand at his chest fisting in his shirt and shoving him away from her. “Fuck you, Scarlet,” she bites out before storming off down the hall. 

Killian takes over, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Will is less willing to let himself be manhandled by him though, shoving at his arm even as he holds firm. “Do you not know how to follow an order, mate?” 

“I’m not your mate,” he snaps back, more annoyed than angry. “And you’re not my Captain.” 

“And here I thought we were getting along,” Killian answers sarcastically. “And you don’t have to like it, but I am your Captain and if you do that to her again -”

“Like you did when you took off to find Henry?” 

“That was different. I did it to spare her the pain of losing someone she cares for.” 

“So did I. Do you really think Pan would have been so forgiving if you’d taken the blame? You’ve been gone a long time, Hook. You’re not his favourite playmate anymore.” 

“And you are?”

“I’m still alive aren’t I?” 

Killian scoffs. “You’ve lasted a decade. Speak to me when you survive a century.” 

“Well if we keep her alive we won’t have to,” Will snarks, nodding at Emma. 

“Me?”

“I wouldn’t have stuck my neck out for you if I didn’t think you were actually going to change things.” Emma doesn’t have an answer to that, the weight of his faith in her more than she can handle right now. “Don’t make me regret it, aye?” he winces, rubbing at his chest.

“What did he do to you?”

He gives a small shrug. “Crushed my heart. Wasn’t so bad, really - I’ve had worse.” 

“What?” 

“It’s a particular favourite of his,” Killian explains. 

“I’ve seen him do it to disobedient Lost Boys for hours - days once. He’s done it longer to me when I was his second. I’m surprised it was only…”

“Eleven seconds,” Emma supplies. The longest eleven seconds she can remember.

“Aye - I thought he’d be angrier.” 

“What did he mean by you paying him back a hundred years?” 

Will shrugs again. “Pan loves his riddles. I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. I need to go find Wendy.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Killian warns and it almost sounds like a threat. 

Will scoffs, finally shoving his hand away. “Please. I’ve done stupider things than egg Pan on.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Killian rolls his eyes and Will glares at him before smirking.

“I’ve become very good at getting her to forgive me.” 

Emma wonders for a moment if she’s going to have to prevent a murder. “Get out of here before I get Pan to come back and crush your heart for good.” 

“What? I thought we were mates -”

“Go,” Emma tells him. Before Killian follows through on that promise. Thankfully, Will isn’t stupid enough to push him any further and does as he’s told. She puts a hand on Killian’s arm. “Just remember that he almost died today. Cut him a bit of slack.” He doesn’t seem convinced, continuing to glare after the younger man. “And he might have saved our lives. He definitely saved mine.” 

Killian scoffs, finally looking at her. “And he’ll never let us forget it.”

“So what’s next?” she asks, trying to distract him from his sort of daughter and her sort of boyfriend’s sort of love life. 

“Hmm?”

“We’ve got the lorelei, we’ve got Tinkerbell, we’ve got a ship full of Lost Boys and pirates, we kept him from getting any more shadows… what do we do now?”

“We figure out what Pan’s plan is.”

“Can we not just… kill him?” she knows they can’t - probably - but she’s pretty sure the idea hasn’t been thrown out there yet so it’s worth a shot. 

Killian shakes his head like she expected him to. “If we could, I’d have done it by now. I did once, when I first returned to Neverland after decades away. I ran him through with my sword trying to avenge my brother.” Her hand on his arm tightens without her meaning it to. “He pretended, made a whole show and lay there until I was sure he was dead - and then he started to laugh. Just another game - the first one I played with him even if I didn’t know it. He told me it was the only time he would let me win.”

“We’ll find a way.” 

He smiles at her, small and half-hearted but she believes him. “I’m sure you will.”

***

“Why do we have to do this?” one of the boys - Kyle, she thinks - complains, dropping the wooden sword to his side. It had been so strange and jarring to learn some of the Lost Boys names over the last few days. “ We have nothing to do but wait ,” Killian had said. “Tink has let the Constant know that we’re ready to meet with them and they’ll send word when they’ve decided if they’ll hear us out .” For some reason, the boys had all been like Wendy in her mind, born ‘ somewhere around the 1880s, I think, ’ or Will, who’d come to Neverland during the Blitz, using dreams to escape the nightmares of real life. But this new group of boys weren’t characters out of a book or an old black and white photo. 

“My mom named me after the guy in some robot movie that had just come out,” Kyle mentioned and it was a moment before it clicked. “The Terminator?!” He’d only shrugged. “That might’ve been it.” This boy was her age. He couldn’t have been born more than a couple of years after she was. Another boy’s tattered shirt had a faded image of Lilo and Stitch on it - he didn’t look more than twelve. These boys were just… kids. Regular kids like the ones she grew up with and the ones who lived in Storybrooke or Boston - boys like Henry. And now they were soldiers. 

“We have to do this,” Wendy answers, giving his fake sword a tap with her own so his arm straightens, “because everyone on this ship needs to be ready to defend her when the next raid happens - If you want to live until the next one.” 

“But we already know how to fight,” he whines. “We defeated you every time.” If Wendy’s upset at the casual mention of her crewmates being slaughtered, she doesn’t let it show. “I already know how to sword fight.” 

“Do you now?” Killian calls from the helm before she can answer. 

“Captain…” his first mate starts but he ignores her. He’s an imposing figure, clad in black leather with the metal of his hook gleaming in the sun and the weight of his sword heavy at his hip. As his footsteps echo across the deck as he makes his way over to where the boys had begun their training they all go silent. 

“Now now, Mr. Darling, if the boy thinks he’s beyond our instruction he should have the chance to prove himself.” He stops in front of the new recruit, drawing his sword in a slow, measured movement, the tip an inch from the kid’s nose and Emma panics for just a second that he might cut him down right there. But then he turns to Wendy, “Bosun, get this boy a real blade,” and she realizes he’s had exactly the effect he intended as everyone around him tenses. 

Wendy goes to fetch a weapon, shooting him the kind of eyeroll kids learn to make in front of adults without getting caught - one she knows very well.

“Think you can defeat me, boy?”

To his credit, Kyle straightens his shoulders, taking the offered sword and raising it to the Captain’s, ready for a fight. She thinks she might see the tiniest bit of approval beneath the scorn in Killian’s expression. The boy moves first, swinging at him with all his might as he deflects again and again. Killian’s toying with him - she knows he is. She saw Killian fight Will that first night on the Jolly. His blocks are too slow, letting the kid get within inches of hitting him. He doesn’t make a single attack, his feet unmoving and she’d think it was cruel if she didn’t understand why he was doing it. 

Finally, when the boy starts to sweat, she sees Killian shift, adjusting his stance as he swings at his opponent. The block comes almost too late, only stopped by the way Killian pulls back at the last moment. He does it again, and again, backing the boy across the deck with blow after blow. There’s no flourish to it, no showmanship, just skill and finesse and strength and speed.

The kid starts to panic, the attacks coming too fast and Emma holds back a gasp when Killian’s blade slices across Kyle’s forearm. After that, it’s easy for Killian to twist his blade out of the kid’s shocked hand with his own, his elbow coming up to knock the boy flat on his ass. By the time he looks up, nose bloody, eyes dazed and watery, Killian’s sword is pointed at his chest, his brow arched in a harsh challenge. 

“Please don’t kill me,” the boy says so quietly and so heartbreakingly that she thinks she sees Killian’s face soften just the barest amount before he takes a step back, dropping his sword. 

“Listen, all of you,” he booms, though every eye on the deck is already on him. “You’ve never defeated anyone. Until now you’ve been playing a game and the game has been rigged. And I’m sorry to say, you’re now on the losing team. The only thing that matters from this moment on is staying alive. And the only way to stay alive is being a skilled enough fighter - and knowing how to hold that skill back enough - that Pan will want to fight you again.”

 He lets this hang in the air for a moment, the boys’ faces showing different degrees of confusion and understanding and horror. “So all of you will follow Mr. Darling’s instructions and learn everything you can from him. You’ll fight to defend this ship, yourselves, and each other when the time comes because you’re part of my crew now.” He reaches a hook out to Kyle who sits cradling his nose and heaves the boy to his feet. “And we look after our own.” 

Killian looks at the boy who nods, message received loud and clear, before clapping him on the shoulder. “Scarlet, see that our newest crew member’s wounds are tended to. He put up quite the fight.” 

“Aye, Captain,” Will complies without argument or sarcasm and Killian must be as shocked as she is because he keeps his mouth shut. 

“Darling must have said something to him,” he tells her when Emma joins him, his sword sliding carefully back into its sheath as he watches Wendy continue her lesson. 

“Or maybe you just did.” Killian only looks at her, brow raised in disbelief before she gestures at the sword hanging at his belt. “So, come on, are you going to show me how to use this thing or not?”

His face splits into a shit-eating grin. “Ah, Swan, I’ve dreamed of the day that you’d ask me to show you how to handle my sword.”

***

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Tinkerbell asks. She’d floated onto the ship that night, looking stronger than when Emma had last seen her - the few days with the Constant clearly having done her good. Her wings looked taller, fully unfurled, the crepe paper like skin no longer breakable and frail as they flutter behind her. 

“Is there good news?” Killian sighs, standing from his desk where he’d been looking over maps of the island while Emma asked him questions about them, how each was different based on when it was drawn, what Pan had changed, who he had brought. He seemed unbothered by the fairy magicking his window open and letting herself in. 

“They’ve agreed to meet with you. They haven’t agreed to help,” she clarifies when Killian looks surprised, “but they’ve agreed to hear you out.”

“And the bad news?” 

“They’ll only meet us in Echo Caves.”

Killian lets out a heavy, long suffering sigh, thumb brushing the inner corner of his brow, words dripping with sarcasm. “Wonderful. Did they happen to give a reason why?” 

“Something about making sure you can be trusted - some incident at skull rock?”

“It was a misunderstanding,” he mutters under his breath. 

“Really because the way I heard it -” 

“It’s fine. Tell them we agree to their terms. When do they expect us?”

“First light.” 

Killian nods. “We’ll be there. And Tink,” he adds when she turns to leave. “Thank you.” 

She sneers. “I’m not doing it for you.” And then she’s gone before he can say another word. 

“What’s Echo Caves?” Emma pulls her knees up to her chest where she’s perched on the desk after she’s sure the fairy’s out of earshot and Killian’s sagged back in his seat. 

“Another one of Neverland’s little delights,” he sighs again. “The magic of the cave compels you to share your deepest secret - whether or not you’re even aware of it.” 

“Have you gone before?” she asks. 

“Once.” His hand drifts up without her really noticing, fingers curling around her calf, thumb tracing over her shin and she thinks maybe it wasn’t a pleasant experience. “Pan wanted to test my loyalty.” She rests her chin on her knee, dreading what he may have had to confess to Pan to keep himself alive on this horrible island. He smiles up at her then, a put-on apathy. “Thankfully, I had many terrible deeds in my past to confess to.” He doesn’t give her a chance to say anything before he releases her and stands again - something dropped between them and something else put up. 

“Are you afraid?” 

Killian doesn’t look at her. “Always.” Her heart tightens. She understands - she’d only been here a few weeks and she’s been terrified every moment - apart from her brief experiment with fairy wine - centuries… she can’t imagine. “But not of the Constant. Tiger Lily may hold a grudge but they’ll do whatever’s best for this island, and so will their people. And I’ve no ill-intent towards them or love for Pan.” He looks at her then, pausing. “Are you?”

“Of having to spill my deepest secret to a bunch of strangers? No, why would I possibly be stressed about that?” she smirks half-heartedly. 

“Strangers?” Killian raises a brow, sliding back across the room and resting his hand and hook on the desk on either side of her. “You hurt me, Swan. I thought we were friends - acquaintances at least.” 

She shoves at his chest rolling her eyes and he smirks. “Usually a guy has to buy me dinner before he gets to hear the all sordid details of my past.” Or coffee in an empty theme park where a pretty smile and a well-placed sneak into his past makes her think she’s safe to reveal herself, to trust someone with all of it.

“Hey,” his thumb brushes over her knee as he tries to catch her gaze. “Where’d you go?”

Not anywhere he needs to know about - or anywhere she’d care to revisit. So she smiles at him, lets her foot brush against the side of his calf, teasing, distracting. “Just trying to figure out which of my deepest secrets are gonna come spilling out of me tomorrow.” He doesn’t believe her, his lie detector almost as good as her own, she's realized, but he doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Well you are a mystery, Swan,” he tells her with a half-hearted smirk. 

“Not for much longer, apparently.” 

Something shifts in the way he’s looking at her, sympathy or understanding as he cocks his head. “You know you don’t have to come if -” 

“I’m going.” 

Killian huffs a laugh. “Of course you are. Well if there’s anything you want to get off your chest without an audience, now’s the time.” His eyebrow quirks up in challenge. “Won’t be a secret anymore if you tell me.” She meets it. 

“What? Is one revelation about me not enough for you?”

Something shifts again, something heavier, her skin warm and humming with fear and anticipation as he looks at her the way he had when he’d been curled around her on the floor of the brig. His voice is lower when he speaks. “Perhaps I’d just like to know you, Swan.” 

She casts her eyes to the floor, his gaze too intense - always too intense - before setting the smirk that had fallen from her lips back in place. “You first.” 

“I’m an open book, love. Ask me anything you like.”

She has one question, one that’s been itching at the back of her mind since she’d seen the canvas of scars etched across his skin. “Who were you? Before you were here - before you were ‘Captain Hook’?”

His bravado falters for a moment. “I was many things. Son, brother, slave, sailor, lieutenant, captain, pirate, partner… None for very long.” He gives her another of those showy smirks. “It seems Hook is the only one that stuck.” Her heart breaks a little, so many loves lost and so many injustices done in such a short life. She thinks of the scars that had criss-crossed his back, that she’d asked about so casually then - slave he’d said - and she wishes she could do it over, pay both them and him the reverence they deserve. “What about you?” 

“What about me?”

His hand slides to her wrist, to the laces she’d tied there the first day she’d come back to the sheriff’s office alone. All of his things had been gone. Desk cleared out, jacket taken from the back of his chair, the few things he bothered to keep - a tacky ceramic wolf, a photo of him and some friends she never bothered to ask him about, even the bottle of whiskey he kept in his top drawer - had been ransacked. He had no family that she knew of - no family that could be found at all - and she’d just known that it was Regina. She’d come in and wiped every trace of Graham clean like he never existed - apart from a single pair of boots forgotten by the back door. 

“They belonged to someone I used to know.” 

“Someone you cared for?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” she shrugs. “He’s gone now.” 

“It mattered enough for you to keep a piece of him with you.” He fingers the laces again, focusing on them, not making her meet his eyes again. “I know what it is to lose the people that matter most.” 

Emma pulls her hand back, sliding them both behind her under the guise of leaning back on the desk and gives another dismissive shrug even as she can’t make herself look at him. “Yeah, well, when you grow up like I did you learn pretty quickly not to get attached.”

Thankfully, Killian knows how to take a hint, straightening and flashing her an off  grin. “If only we all possessed such a skill, Swan.” Then, pushing away from the desk,  “I best let the others know what awaits us all  tomorrow.” 

Emma swallows, this island has already taken so much from her - her son, her name, her memories - almost - her whole belief system… How much more can it really take? She doesn’t ask - not anymore as she slides into Killian’s bed instead of her own, and he doesn’t say anything as he joins her a few minutes later, just pulls her against him, breath warm and comforting against her cheek as they try to shut themselves off from the cries that ring out on the deck above them. 

*******

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[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Sleeps Ten, My Ass (1/2)

Summary: It's become tradition for Emma Swan to spend the holidays with her brother, their cousins, and their families. This Christmas was no different. The group booked a four night stay at a cozy mountain cabin to celebrate. The listing said it sleeps ten, but upon arrival they discover a small issue. The listing was wrong and now Emma and Killian Jones, the only two single people within their group, have to spend the next four nights sharing a bed. Fortunately... they've shared a bed before.

A/N: @eastwesthomeisbest it is I, your CS Secret Santa! Thank you for being so patient and understanding! I'm sorry I couldn't post this sooner, but between the normal busyness of the holidays and my entire family coming down with Covid, finding time to write was a struggle. I hope you find this worth the wait. It was lovely hearing about your traditions and I hope you had a fantastic holiday!

Thanks to @kmomof4 for looking this over for me and to the @cssecretsanta2020 for once again hosting a fantastic event. Side note, this fic also completes my Only One Bed: Holiday Edition CS Winter Bingo square!

Rated eventual E / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Part One

She was late. Super late. Incredibly late. Late enough that she was certain her brother had already called the cops to report her missing. Late enough that it was already pitch black on the back mountain road, forcing her to drive at a creeping speed so she didn’t careen off the side of a cliff, which was making her even more late.

In her defense, they should all have expected that she’d be late. She was always late. Every dinner, every holiday get together, every vacation, every celebration, Emma Swan was always notoriously late.

Not because she didn’t want to spend time with her family. Far from. She just… wasn’t always in control over her own schedule. Bail bonds and bounty hunting wasn’t exactly a 9 to 5 gig, and when a mark finally crawled out of whatever hole in which he (it was more often than not a he) had hid himself away through some dumbass attempt to avoid the consequences of his own dumbass actions, well… many times it meant a change in her plans.

Was it annoying? Yes.

Did she make sure to take out that frustration on the perp? Also, yes.

Was it even worse for the offender when he made her late for the Christmas get-together her cousin Elsa had planned for them all - a four night stay at a picturesque mountain cabin big enough to sleep three married couples and two singles with amenities that would keep them cozy and content over the holiday? Oh, yes.

Big. Fat. Yes.

To go with the big fat payout she needed in order to pay her portion of said holiday getaway.

Rounding another winding corner, the soft glow of the illuminated cabin stirred a strange mix of sensations in her chest; a swirl of relief at nearly being there and panic over what was awaiting her inside. Parking her bug next to the vehicles that signalled she was indeed the last to arrive, Emma fortified herself for a moment before exiting the vehicle, grabbing her bag, and marching up to the cabin as though she were about to face a firing squad.

David, her brother, and Liam, Elsa’s husband, would likely scold her with their hands firmly planted on their hips or their arms crossed tightly over their chests. The rebukes would be drowned out by David’s wife, Mary Margaret, and Elsa’ sister, Anna, who would both rush at Emma and force her into claustrophobic hugs while they expressed their worry and relief, offering Emma a blanket, a place by the fire, a plate of food, a cup of tea, all without taking a breath between them as Anna’s husband, Kristoff, tried to tell the women to let Emma breathe and get settled.

The only one who would not be making a fuss would likely already have a drink ready for her, a knowing smirk teasing his lips as he tried to stifle an eye roll at the group’s overreaction.

Killian Jones. Liam’s brother and the only other single member of their group.

Hand on the doorknob, Emma took a deep breath and opened the door to the expected chaos. And chaos there was, but… none of it seemed to be about her and her tardiness.

Elsa and David were in the kitchen. One of their phones, clearly on speaker, was held between them as they argued with whoever was on the other end of the line. Liam and Kristoff were seated at the dining table with a laptop open, the elder Jones frantically typing and clicking as Kristoff scrolled on his phone with a furrowed brow.

“There’s nothing up here that could be used as an extra one,” Anna called out from the top of the stairs. “Mary Margaret and I have looked through all the closets and checked all the furniture.”

None of them had noticed her presence yet, and she was about to say something when heavy boot falls sounded from the porch behind her.

“Ah, Swan. You arrived in one piece then?” Killian said cheekily with an arm full of firewood.

“Uh, yeah,” she replied, setting her bag down so she could help with the load he was carrying. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries,” he assured her, making his way to the fireplace and stacking their logs beside the hearth. “You missed the initial excitement, but you’ve made it in time to witness the spiral everyone has since descended into.” Emma glanced around the cabin at the said spiral, wondering what had set everyone off as Killian added a couple of logs to the fire, then grabbed the poker so he could stoke it. “I told them I’d make do on the couch, or even a pallet on the floor, but--”

“Sleeps ten, my ass!” Elsa shouted as she angrily hung up the call. “They swapped out the couch and forgot to update the listing!”

“What?” Emma said, but no one other than Killian seemed to have heard her, or even realized she was there.

“That’s ridiculous!” Liam bellowed. “What do they plan to do about it?”

“Can they bring an air mattress or cot?” Kristoff asked, still scrolling through his phone. “Because none of the local stores seem to have one, and even if they did, they’d be closed by the time we got back to town.”

Killian stepped away from the fire he’d coaxed back to life and into the metaphorical one building at the kitchen island where the rest of their group - save for Emma - had gathered.

“I already told you, the couch will be fine.”

“Don’t be silly, Killian,” Anna replied. “Have you seen that couch? It’s far too narrow and your feet are gonna dangle off the end.”

“Then the floor will suit me--”

“For the amount of money we spent renting this place, you are not sleeping on the floor,” Elsa declared. “I cannot believe this! How could they make a mistake like that?”

“What did the owner say?” Mary Margaret asked, setting out a platter of food she’d removed from the fridge and encouraging everyone to eat something… as though snacking would somehow fix the issue. An issue Emma still wasn’t sure was the cause of everyone’s upset.

“He won’t do anything,” Elsa snapped. “He said they had to replace the couch, which had been a sleeper, and apparently forgot to update the listing, but didn’t see the problem since we only have eight people, not ten, and there are four king size beds.”

“Didn’t you explain that there weren’t four couples, though?”

“Oh, she did,” David interjected. “But the man didn’t seem to care about anything other than getting back to his tropical Christmas vacation.”

“So what do we do?” Anna asked. “Where is Killian gonna sleep?”

“He and I can just share the bed.”

Seven heads collectively snapped in her direction, a mixture of shock and surprise being directed her way as her family, for the first time, realized she was there and then computed her words.

Words she would later blame on the fact that although no one seemed bothered by the fact she was late, she still felt the need to make up for it and therefore was compelled to offer a solution to the problem, even if said solution meant sharing a bed with a man she absolutely did not have feelings for and no one would convince her otherwise, not even her own treacherous heart, and thereby torturing herself for the next several days.

“Are you sure, love?” Killian asked, his eyes scrutinizing her, looking for any hint that she might be regretting the offer and wished to back out. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything you weren’t completely comfortable with.”

“Are you planning to make it uncomfortable for her?” David asked in his overly protective, brotherly tone. “Because I’m warning you--”

“Warning him?” Liam braced his hands against the top of the island and leaned over it, staring David down as he asked, “Are you insinuating my brother is some sort of cad who would take advantage of--”

“We all know Killian’s reputation.”

“Okay,” Emma interjected before things could escalate further. “I think you’re all forgetting that I have a reputation, too. Of being able to take care of myself. Besides, I trust Killian. We’re both adults. There’s no reason for either of us to sleep on a couch or the floor when there is a perfectly good bed, big enough for us to share. So…” She marched back over to where she’d dropped her bag and collected it as she continued on, “If you don’t mind. I’ve had a long day and all I want right now is a shower and some sleep.” Directing her gaze to Killian she asked, “Where’s your stuff?”

“It’s uh…” he began, scratching behind his ear as he furtively cast a glance towards David. “It’s on the landing.”

“Great,” she said, turning towards the stairs. “Grab it on your way up so you can settle in while I shower.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret called out. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat or--”

“I’m fine,” Emma answered back halfway up the stairs. “I’ll see you all in the morning.” Looking over her shoulder, she saw Killian hesitate at the bottom step. “Are you coming?”

“Aye,” he answered, following after her two steps at a time and grabbing his duffle before slipping into the room behind her.

Tossing his bag onto the bed, he glanced around the room and inquired one last time, “You’re certain you’re okay with this, Swan?”

“Yes, Jones,” Emma replied in an exasperated tone she hoped masked the nerves currently coursing through her. After gathering up her toiletry items, she straightened and faced him, a thought suddenly occurring to her. “Unless… You are uncomfortable with it and would rather--”

“No, no,” he insisted, his shoulders relaxing and his usual cocky demeanor coming forward. “It’s not that,” he said in a cheeky and slightly taunting tone.

“What is it then?” Emma asked, trying hard to not be taken in by his charm as he swaggered towards her.

“Well, I seem to remember you saying something about it being a one time thing the last time we shared a bed,” he crooned, twisting a section of her hair around his finger. “Seems you’ll have to eat those words now.”

Emma wet her lips and tried to squash the delighted feeling surging through her at the way his eyes dropped to follow the motion. “Bad form bringing up our… what did you call it?” she asked in a mocking tone as she cocked her head to one side. “Our dalliance?” He winced at her terrible attempt to mimic his accent and they both chortled as she reminded him, “I thought we agreed to never speak of that night again.”

“You’re right, Swan. Bad form indeed,” he conceded in a soft timbre. “My apologies, love.”

He backed away and retreated to the other side of the room where he made himself busy unpacking his duffle. “Go ahead and shower, Swan,” he said. “I’ll hop in after you.”

“Thanks,” she threw out over her shoulder as she shut herself in the bathroom, suddenly very eager to have a bit of separation from him. From him and the memory of that night. The night they had shared a bed - and a whole lot more - with one another after copious amounts of alcohol and hours on a dance floor somewhere in the Caribbean during the cruise they’d all taken together earlier that year to celebrate Liam and Elsa’s wedding.

A memory that stubbornly refused to be cast aside, making for a very long shower - a fitful, highly inappropriate shower - especially considering the man she’d been fixated on was in the next room, waiting on her to finish so he could get naked and wet and…

Dear God, Emma. Get a grip!

Emerging from the bathroom, adorned in her pajamas with her wet hair wrapped in a towel, Emma hoped the red in her cheeks would be chalked up to the heat of the shower and not because her fantasies had gotten away from her.

“All yours,” she said, pulling her hair dryer out of her bag and plugging it into the wall at the makeshift vanity.

She combed through the wet strands as Killian hovered at the doorway to the bathroom. Pausing her actions, she stared up at him expectantly, trying not to remember what he looked like shirtless.

“About before,” he said, his voice deep with an edge of concern. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by bringing up that night, I just…” He left out a heavy breath and ran his hand through his hair. “I was just trying to bring a bit of levity to an otherwise tense situa--”

“Killian,” she said, waving him off. “It’s fine. Really. You didn’t upset me by bringing it up.” Shrugging, she tried to give off a sense of nonchalance about the whole thing. “It happened. We’ve both moved on from it. No big deal.”

“Right,” he said with a bit of a drawl. “Well… I’ll try not to take too long, so as to not keep you up.” Glancing towards the bed, he said, “I hope it’s okay that I took that side. I didn’t know if you had one you preferred.”

Emma turned to see which side he’d taken. Not that it mattered.

“Honestly,” she answered, “I don’t really have one. It’s not like I share my bed often enough with anyone to develop a preference.”

“Aye. Same,” he replied with that adorable lopsided smile of his.

Emma’s heart fluttered for several seconds after he disappeared into the bathroom. He didn’t often share his bed? Really? Like David had said earlier, Killian had a bit of a reputation as a ladies’ man. It was one of the reasons she’d pulled back after their night together; she’d hated being just another notch on his bedpost.

How many notches had he added since her, she wondered.

She had plenty of time to contemplate that question. It wasn’t until well after she’d dried her hair, set her alarm, and settled under the covers that Killian emerged from the bathroom. The last drowsy thought Emma had was whether he’d taken advantage of the memory of them together to help let off some steam whilst he was in the shower like she had. She didn’t get a chance to dwell on the thought, though. The tiring day had caught up to her and sleep took over the moment she felt the bed dip beside her.

~/~

“Morning, Emma! Sleep well?”

Anna’s voice was far too perky for the current early morning hour, causing Emma to grimace as she shuffled past the red headed woman on her way to the kitchen.

“Oh, sorry,” Anna whispered, tiptoeing behind her. “Coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot.”

“Please,” Emma grumbled, slumping down onto one of the barstools at the island. “A fresh pot? How early did you get up?”

“Mary Margaret and I got up with the guys,” she said, pouring Emma a cup, then placing it and a tray of fixings on the counter top in front of her. “We wanted to make sure they got a good meal and some coffee before they headed out.”

Emma nodded her understanding, adding enough sugar to her cup that it would have earned her a disgusted look from Killian had he been there and not out traipsing through the woods with an axe. It was an annual tradition at this point. For the past five years - ever since the Jones brothers had entered their lives through Liam and Elsa’s courtship - the guys went out on Christmas Eve morning and cut down a tree for them to decorate. While they were out finding the perfect specimen, Mary Margaret would lead - or in Emma’s case, berate - the girls in making the decorations. The guys would join in once they got back and set up the tree, and the day would be spent stringing popcorn or dried oranges or cranberries for garland as well as attempting to avoid tiny cuts from the origami-esque construction of paper or cardboard ornaments.

There were also snacks and cocktails, the occasional break from crafting to watch a Christmas movie or play a game. Of course, every year, Emma and Killian would insist they watch Die Hard, which Mary Margaret would dismiss as not being a Christmas movie and an argument would ensue - mostly because it gave both Emma and Killian a perverse sense of pleasure to rile up Mary Margaret. Not that they didn’t love the movie or wholeheartedly believe that it was, in fact, a Christmas movie.

“Oh, Emma! You’re up!” Mary Margaret set down a stack of boxes on the island, the contents of which held various crafting supplies no doubt. “Did you get some breakfast?”

Emma shook her head and waved off the woman’s attempt to feed her. “Not yet,” she said. “I’ll get something after I’m sufficiently caffeinated.”

“Well drink up,” Mary Margaret ordered as she began to retreat back into the room she and David were using. “We need to get going on these decorations.”

A moment later she returned with several sacks and with Anna’s help, began organizing the supplies. Emma took that as her cue to find another place to enjoy her coffee.

Glancing out the French doors that led to the back deck she caught sight of a platinum blonde braid. Emma grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders before joining Elsa in the peace and quiet of the mountain morning.

“Hey,” she said, pulling Elsa’s attention away from the view. “Mind if I join you?”

“Please do,” Elsa replied, making room on the bench. “Do you want me to turn on the heater?”

It shouldn’t have surprised Emma that her cousin hadn’t already started the propane heater. The cold had never seemed to bother her like it did Emma.

“No, I’ve got it.” Emma cranked up the heat then sat down, snuggling into the blanket she’d brought out with her.

“Sleep okay?” Elsa asked. “Any problems with the room?”

“No,” Emma answered, taking a sip of her coffee before adding, “The room’s great. Very comfortable.”

“Good,” Elsa said, turning her attention back towards the snowy mountain view. “And sharing with Killian? That, uh… Did that go okay?”

Emma rolled her eyes and hid her knowing smirk behind her mug. “It was fine,” she replied.

“I mean, I’m sure Killian was a gentleman, I just hate that the two of you have to endure this awkwardness when I did my best to--”

“Elsa,” Emma interrupted. “It isn’t your fault, and we will make do. It’s fine. Really.”

The icy blonde’s shoulders relaxed and a puff of exhaled air lingered at her lips for a moment before she said, “Good. I’m glad.” With a furtive glance in Emma’s direction she muttered, “Let’s just hope David thinks it's all fine.”

“I’m a big girl,” Emma reminded her cousin. “David will get over it.”

“I don’t know,” Elsa replied in a sing-song tone. “He was looking pretty hostile this morning when Killian sauntered down the stairs with a whistle on his lips. I’m pretty sure Liam made sure to be the one who took the axe when they left.”

The two women shared a chuckle, both of them knowing full well there was no danger of the men resorting to violence, even if they did bluster a bit.

“I’m sure Killian is reveling in the opportunity to needle David, but I trust Liam to make sure cooler heads prevail.”

“And his needling wouldn’t have any elements of truth in it, right?” Elsa inquired, not so subtly.

Emma sighed exasperatedly. “No,” she stated adamantly. “Nothing happened, and nothing is going to happen.”

She shifted uncomfortably under Elsa’s scrutiny, her piercing blue eyes cutting through her assertions as she hummed a dubious sound.

“If you say so.”

Emma was about to double down on her words, but was cut off by Anna’s sudden appearance.

“Everything is ready! Come make decorations with us!”

Emma and Elsa shared a resigned look then followed Anna back into the cabin, after shutting off the heater, of course. The ladies then spent the next hour or so making handmade decorations whilst also prepping food items for the upcoming meals.

When the guys returned, Emma stayed out of the way. She’d learned from years past to just let David, Liam, Mary Margaret, and Elsa duke it out on the best way to set up the tree. While the four of them conferenced in the living room, she joined Anna in the kitchen, who was busy making everyone a hot cocoa.

“Need a hand?”

“Yes, please!”

The two women filled and garnished mugs of hot cocoa while every so often peeking outside to watch Kristoff and Killian clean up the tree. Once it was suitable for indoors - and they’d gotten the final word of where to set it up - the men brought it inside and secured it in the stand. Everyone stood back to admire the magnificent find as Emma and Anna handed out the beverages.

“Jones,” Emma said, offering him a hot cup as she came to stand beside him.

“Thank you, love,” he replied, slightly out of breath. A half-smile pulled at his lips and crinkled at the corner of his eyes when he noticed she’d adorned his in the same manner as hers - with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. It was how she’d always taken her cocoa and slowly but surely she was converting the rest of their group to do the same.

“It’s a great looking tree,” she commented, sipping her hot chocolate nonchalantly so he wouldn’t read too much into her compliment.

“Aye,” he said, taking another long look at the fruit of his and the other men’s labor. A fruit that was quickly filling the living room with a pungent pine scent that tickled Emma’s sinuses. “And what of your efforts?” he asked, turning his attention onto her. “Care to show me what you lasses have been working on and how I might assist?”

Emma rolled her eyes and led him to the dining table where he prompted her to give him a demonstration of the crafting. Soon, the others joined them and the day went on just as Emma knew it would: completing the decorations, stringing lights and garlands, decorating the tree, gorging themselves on a big meal, partaking in snacks, then some drinks, then some more drinks, and arguing over then watching several Christmas themed movies and shows. Unfortunately, no Die Hard.

“You know, Swan,” Killian whispered in her ear as everyone began to disperse from the living room to turn in for the night. “We have a TV with streaming services in our room…”

The feel of his breath against the shell of her ear, as well as the way he said ‘our room’ sent a thrill up her spine.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice.

Was it fortunate?

“Your point?” she said, her voice a little too breathy, but maybe he’d think it was because they’d just climbed the steep steps to the second floor.

“My point,” he continued, following her into their - THE - room, “is once we’ve showered and readied ourselves, we can watch Die Hard in bed and celebrate the season properly.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jones,” she replied, even as her heart skipped a few beats at the reminder they’d both be taking turns getting naked and wet with only a flimsy door that did not lock between them.

Ever the gentleman, Killian let her go first. While he took his turn, she busied herself with getting ready for bed, queuing up the movie, and adding an extra blanket to the stack of covers. In no time, they were settled on their respective sides of the bed, enjoying watching John McClane run around Nakatomi Plaza barefoot whilst being a ‘fly in the ointment’ to Hans Gruber.

They both barely remained conscious, but somehow got to the credits before crashing. The constant recitation of dialogue probably helped.

At some point in the night, a rustling sound in the corner of the room stirred Emma. Instinctively, she reached over to feel for Killian, only to find his side of the bed empty.

“Killian?” she croaked out, his name heavy on her tongue from sleep. “What are you--”

“The heat went out,” he told her, making her aware of her own shivering and the frigid air of the room. “Elsa is having kittens over it,” he went on to explain. “Giving the owner a right earful as we speak.”

A low hum and soft glow began to fill the room. Killian stood and visibly shook himself before heading back to bed.

“What’s that?” Emma asked, shifting in bed and moving closer to the middle.

“Space heater,” Killian answered, still shivering from the cold. “The owner relented and gave us the code to the storage closet. There were a few of these in there.”

Emma hummed in response, her mind weighing whether to bring up the idea of--

“Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if we… that is,” he hedged, clearing his throat. “Until the heater manages to raise the temperature, would you be okay if we…”

“Sure,” she said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically as she scooted closer to him.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, his chest already plastered against her back and his face buried in the crook of her neck.

Emma moaned in relief, the heat of his body already warming her and staying the chills that had made her tense. In an effort to find a comfortable position for her legs - without entangling them with his - she rocked her hips back into his and felt…

“Bloody hell,” Killian grumbled in an embarrassed tone as he pulled away. “Apologies, Swan. I didn’t intend--”

“Killian,” she laughed, rolling over to face him. “It’s fine. It happens. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I just don’t want you to think I have ulterior motives for suggesting--”

“I don’t,” she assured him. “I know guys can’t always control… that.”

“Well, I am usually much more in control of such things, I assure you.”

“I’m sure you are,” she said in an appeasing tone, earning her a side-eyed glare. “Seriously, though,” she continued, trying to coax him back to her. “Your morning wood doesn’t offend me, so will you please come back here.”

He relented after some not so gentle tugging, and a moment later they were once again entwined in the other’s arms.

“Mmmm,” Emma hummed, nestling a bit further into his chest. “How are you always so warm? I feel like I’m always cold.”

As Emma drifted off to sleep she was certain she heard him say, “I know, love. But I’ll always be here for you when you need to keep warm.”

Part Two

[st0r-fruit]

FINALLY!! A PROPER INTRODUCTION FOR (one of) MY CARMEN SANDIEGO OC!!

Meet Adya Hartono, or his codename; Bishop!

@the-cs-oc-archives you might wanna see this 👀

(ignore the mismatched shoe, it's actually fully black)

Do not steal my art!

[searchingwardrobes]

Scarborough Fair: 11/?

I'm so excited, ya'll! This is it - the wedding chapter! And the wedding night, which means sexy times. I don't write smut, so it's super steamy and then fades to black. Buuut this may just be the steamiest thing I've ever written. So, enjoy!

And a reminder of Emma's wedding dress:

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Emma Swan has had a charmed life, despite being a foster child. She has a wonderful family who loves her, and the best friends in the world. The only thing that mars her idyllic existence is her birth mother: a homeless woman who mutters nonsensical rhymes and claims to be Snow White. One fateful night, however, Emma’s world is shattered. Perhaps her mother’s rhymes aren’t nonsense after all.

Rated: M for date rape, dubious consent, teen pregnancy, and sexy times (the good kind!)

Words: Over 3k in this chapter

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten

Also on Ao3

Tagging:  (let me know if you wish to be removed or added):  @snowbellewells@teamhook@kmomof4@jrob64@xhookswenchx-reads-blog@thisonesatellite@welllpthisishappening@spartanguard@ohmakemeahercules@tiganasummertree@sparlecorn93@sals86@pirateprincessofpizza@xarandomdreamx@zaharadessert@huntressandlioness1@jamif@undercaffinatednightmare@onceratheart18@sparlecorn93@sals86@pirateprincessofpizza@xarandomdreamx@zaharadessert@huntressandlioness1@jonesfandomfanatic​ @hollyethecurious @lfh1226-linda

Chapter Eleven

“I can’t believe I was so stupid!” Ingrid slammed her palm against the steering wheel as they drove back home.

“It isn’t your fault Ingrid,” Killian assured her. “I think it was that amulet he wears. When he touched it, something happened to me. My thoughts got muddied, and I was drawn towards him.”

Ingrid shook her head and pressed her lips into a thin line. “You withstood him better than I did,” she looked over at Emma, “you both did.”

Emma’s brow creased. “You’re right. Maybe it has something to do with what my mom and Belle both said about true love.”

“What did they say?” Ingrid asked. 

Killian cleared his throat. “Just that the love Emma and I have for each other can be protection against Rumplestiltskin.”

“Not exactly,” Emma laughed, looking back at Killian with pride sparkling in her eyes. “My mom seemed very relieved that I had Killian, and Belle said that Rumplestiltskin wasn’t counting on Killian being in the picture.”

“She said he hated me,” Killian clarified.

“Don’t listen to him,” Emma told Ingrid, “he’s basically my hero.”

Killian scoffed even as his cheeks pinked, and Emma laughed.

“Emma,” Ingrid scolded, “how can you be so flippant about this? I told that horrible man things about our family. I invited him to the wedding! He could ruin it somehow.”

Emma shook her head. “He won’t. I don’t think he even can. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do.”

Ingrid glanced at Killian’s reflection in the rearview mirror. He shrugged back at her. Emma was humming the tune of “Scarborough Fair,” of all things, looking contentedly out of the window. How their visit to the mental hospital could possibly have encouraged her was beyond him, but he loved her all the more for her sudden optimism. 

Ingrid’s phone started to ring, and she answered via her bluetooth.

“Hey babe,” she told Liam.

“Hello, love. I’ve got great news!”

“We can use as much of that as we can get. What is it?”

“That professor of agriculture got back to me. According to him, we can take a kernel of corn and grind it down. Then we add that corn ‘powder’ to something fine, like flaxseed, and sow that.”

“Will that count?” Emma piped up.

“He thinks so,” Liam said. “Apparently there’s some legend in . . . Wales? Scotland? I can’t remember, but anyways, in the legend a father won’t let his daughter marry the man she loves unless he can sow an entire field with just one kernel of corn. This was how he accomplished it.”

“You didn’t tell him about our situation, did you?” Ingrid asked with concern.

“Of course not! I told him I was thinking of publishing a second book about the song ‘Scarborough Fair,’ that’s all.”

“Okay, well, at least that’s one thing.”

“Elsa is doing some data analysis to figure out how fast Emma needs to plow before the tide comes in.”

“Now we just have to find this town no one knows.”

That was what worried Killian the most. None of them had any idea how to go about the second riddle. And after their visit to the mental hospital, it was more clear than ever that the future of many people, not just Emma’s, was in the balance. 

*******************************************************************

The next week and a half flew by, and before Emma knew it, she was sitting in front of Ingrid’s vanity mirror in her wedding dress. Ingrid was applying her makeup, and Anna was using a curling iron on her hair. They all yelped when the door flew open, but it was only Liam. 

“What’s with all the people downstairs?” he demanded.

Ingrid straightened up to look at him, a stick of eyeliner gripped between her fingers. “We’re having a wedding, dear, the living room is filled with guests.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “I’m aware of that. But I counted two priests, a rabbi, a baptist minister, a Buddhist monk, and some woman waving a gourd around.”

“The gourd is part of a Cherokee ritual to ward off evil spirits,” Ingrid explained as she leaned down to apply eyeliner to Emma’s eyelids, “and there’s only one priest. The other is an Episcopalian minister.”

“Ingrid, what’s with all the holy people, that’s what I’m asking!”

Ingrid sighed as she straightened once again from her task. “I invited an evil imp to this wedding by accident, okay? So I’m trying to counter that with anything and everything I possibly can!” 

Liam sighed. “That’s sweet of you, darling. Eccentric, but sweet.”

He stepped forward and placed a kiss against his wife’s cheek as Emma and Anna laughed. He left after promising for the fifth time that day to keep Killian downstairs. 

“Do you think he noticed the crystals you lined up on the fireplace mantel?” Emma asked when he was gone.

Ingrid chuckled. “Probably not.”

Anna let out a frustrated groan as she released another limp curl from the curling iron. “I’m not good at this!”

“I told you to use hot rollers,” said Ingrid. 

Emma shook her head. “I don’t want my hair too overdone.”

Anna gave Ingrid a weighted look. “If only Elsa were here. She’s the only one who can do that loose side braid you love.”

Suddenly, Ingrid’s walk-in closet burst open. “Did someone say they needed my help?”

Emma squealed with joy at the sight of Elsa stepping out of the closet. She jumped up and threw herself into her older sister’s arms. 

“I’m so glad you’re here!”

“And I’m glad to finally get out of the closet.” Elsa looked over Emma’s shoulder and scowled at her sister and her aunt. “I thought you two would never say the code word!”

“We didn’t know Liam was going to interrupt!” Anna retorted. 

Ingrid just laughed. “Sorry we hid this from you, Emma, but we wanted it to be a surprise.”

“I wasn’t sure I could make it, either,” Elsa explained, “so we didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

Emma shook her head, dabbing carefully at tears that threatened her makeup. “I don’t care, I’m just so happy to see you! Will you be my second bridesmaid? You can wear the dress you have on - this wedding is very informal.”

“You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Elsa assured her. “Now, are we going to do something about your hair or not?”

*************************************************************

Killian stood in front of the fireplace in the Jones family living room, his brother standing at his side. He kept fidgeting and shifting from one foot to the other. 

“Nervous?” Liam asked him.

“No,” he answered without hesitation. He barely noticed all the people, most of whom he swore were strangers, crowded into their home. He didn’t feel he was giving up his freedom or being burdened, or any of the other cliches people used for grooms. He just wanted to see Emma descend the stairs. He wanted to pledge his life to her, slip the ring in Liam’s pocket onto her finger, kiss her, and then begin their life together. 

Liam’s friend and colleague, shoved into a tiny corner with his keyboard, began to play the processional, and Ingrid was the first to descend the stairs as Emma’s matron of honor, a tiny bouquet of white daisies clutched in her hands. Elsa, then Anna. followed Ingrid down the stairs. Killian strained his eyes for Emma. She wouldn’t be escorted. She had said it was unnecessary, and she wanted Liam to be Killian’s best man. 

Then, suddenly, there she was, and the music changed. She seemed to float down the stairs like a vision, her dress trailing the ground, her bare shoulders glowing under the lights, and her golden hair in a loose braid that draped over her shoulder. Her hair was threaded with baby’s breath and Queen Anne’s lace, and she clutched a simple bouquet of white roses tied with a white satin ribbon. Her eyes were searching the crowded room, but she didn’t seem to be able to see him. 

Then, suddenly, at the bottom of the stairs, she faltered. She reached out one hand to grip the banister tightly. Her skin went suddenly pale. She seemed to be staring at something no one could see. 

What Killian couldn’t see, what no one could see, was the man at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on his cane. Only Emma could see him. Her breaths became shallow, and she suddenly felt dizzy. Panic gripped her heart. 

“You want to run,” Rumplestiltskin told her, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “You don’t want to get married at 17. You don’t have to. Just turn around and go back upstairs.”

Emma began to shake. What was she doing? He was right! She was too young to get married! Why was she getting married again? Who was she marrying? Something wasn’t right. This man made sense - she should just run back upstairs. 

“Emma?” 

Rumplestiltskin jerked his head towards the sound of the young man’s voice. The boy didn’t see him, of course. His spell had seen to that. But why was there such strong magic emanating from the lad? Rumple recoiled, feeling a sudden, sharp, physical pain. The shirt! The stupid boy was wearing the shirt Emma had made with no needle or seam. The wretched shirt that solved the first riddle. No one could see it; he wore it beneath his shirt and tie. The boy must be sweating in the heavy felt, too. What had possessed him to don the thing? Curse him! Rumple stumbled backwards, the magic of true love overpowering him. He turned and ran, his glamor spell starting to wane, and his skin burning. He almost fell down the steps, but when he reached the sidewalk he turned and steadied himself, smoothing down the front of his suit coat. 

“No matter,” he snarled up at the house and the people inside. “I may not be able to touch you yet, but I will, mark my words, I will, and soon!”

Inside, the sound of Killian’s voice had broken the spell that had held Emma frozen at the bottom of the stairs. She looked down into Killian’s gentle smile and sparkling blue eyes, and every doubt and bit of confusion fled. He held out his hand.

“Don’t be afraid, Emma,” he told her softly, “we’ll walk the aisle together.”

She took his hand and descended the last few steps. She tucked her arm into his and beamed up at him. 

“Why would I be afraid?” she asked him, and she would never remember the strange man at the bottom of the stairs. 

***************************************************************

Emma giggled as Killian carried her over the threshold of the house they would share, at least as long as the professor who owned it was on sabbatical. Killian set her down, brushed her lips with a kiss, then stepped forward, his arms spread wide.

“So, what do you think?”

Emma stepped slowly into the room, taking in the small foyer and the modest living room to the left. To the right was a stairwell, and down a short hall in front of her was a small eat-in kitchen. It was a narrow, two story Victorian, even older than the home she grew up in with Ingrid. Emma wrapped her arms around the post of the stairway banister and looked up at the decorative stain glass panel above the front door which was so common in Victorian homes. It cast shafts of colored light onto the flowered wallpaper. 

“It’s not very big, I know,” Killian told her, “but the man who owns it is a bachelor, after all. The upstairs is better, though. He renovated it to just one huge master suite with a really modern bathroom. It’s got a double shower!”

Emma caught his gaze at that, and a teasing smile lifted her lips. “Really?”

Killian swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. He’d never heard that one word sound so laden with sensual promise. Emma bit her lower lip as she regarded him, still draped across the banister. 

“I could . . .” he stuttered, “give you a tour. Of the house, I mean.”

Emma grinned slyly, then gazed up the stairs. “I only want to see the bedroom.”

Killian swallowed again, “Oh - okay.”

Emma stepped closer and took his hand. She said nothing, just gazed at him in a way that took his breath away. He took the stairs, leading her by the hand, every nerve in his body on high alert. 

The stairs led them straight into the master suite, with no door separating the two. At the back of the room was a sitting area surrounded by built-in bookshelves. A TV was mounted on the wall so it could be seen from either the sofa, rocking chair, or bed. 

The bed. It was a queen size, four-poster bed situated in front of a beautiful round window of colored glass. It dominated the room, or at least it seemed to right now. Emma walked to it slowly, running her hands along the quilt that lay across it. When Ingrid had seen the house, she said the quilt was another sign that fate meant them to be together. The pattern of interlocking circles was called a wedding ring quilt. 

Emma wrapped her arms around one of the bedposts, just like she had the banister downstairs, and looked at him shyly. Two spots of color tinted her cheeks. Killian scratched behind his ear and gestured to the door to his left. 

“Do you, uh, want to see the bathroom?”

“Killian,” Emma said gently, “why are you so nervous?”

He was able to laugh, just a bit, at her words, but he didn’t know what to say. Emma took one step forward, took him by the hand and pulled him closer. To her and to the bed. She ran both hands up the front of his shirt and began to undo the buttons. His heart threatened to beat right out of his chest. 

Suddenly, Emma paused. “What’s under your shirt?”

“The one you made. To solve the first riddle.”

Emma laughed as she worked off his tie and undid the rest of his buttons. “Oh my God, you must have been burning up!”

“You have no idea!” He laughed too and peeled the scratchy, insanely hot shirt up and over his head. He sighed in relief as he tossed it aside, then ran his hand through his sweaty hair. He caught Emma staring at him, her cheeks now bright red. He wondered if she would get nervous now, but instead, she turned her back to him. 

“Unzip me?”

Her back was almost completely bare already in her halter dress. The zipper didn’t start until her lower back. He could scarcely breathe as he slid it down, revealing her lacy underwear. 

“And untie the halter?” Emma’s voice was thick, and he was thankful he wasn’t the only one obviously shaken by desire.

Killian did as she asked, letting his fingers dance along her spine after he finished. Emma sucked in a sudden breath at his touch. He stepped closer, encircling her waist and pressing his chest to her back. Still holding the front of her dress to her chest, Emma leaned back into him, and he trailed kisses along her neck. 

“Are you even wearing a bra?” he asked against her skin.

Emma turned to face him, still holding her dress up. “It’s hard to wear a bra when it’s a halter,” she said, then she let go of the dress, and it fell with a soft rustling sound at her feet. 

For a few heated moments, he took her in, glorious in nothing but a pair of white lace panties. Then he surged forward, pressing her bare breasts against him and devouring her mouth with deep kisses. Emma moaned as he maneuvered her to the bed, and her hands fumbled with the zipper of his pants. 

After kicking aside his pants, he covered Emma with his body, nothing between them but that tiny scrap of lace. His hands roamed, as he sucked on her neck, and Emma panted as she grasped his back. He pulled back for a moment, tenderly cupping her cheek. 

“You asked why I was so nervous.”

“Mhm,” Emma replied, her lips pressed together, and her eyes wide.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, his hand drifting down to caress her breasts. 

“A little,” she whispered. 

“Me too,” he confessed, “because I don’t want to hurt you.”

Emma pressed her hands to his cheeks. “I know you would never hurt me.”

He ran his thumb along the waistband of her panties, and she shuddered, her eyes fluttering shut. 

“I don’t want you to be scared,” he whispered hoarsely.

Her eyes opened and held his as she lifted her hips and guided his hands.

“Do I look scared to you?”

**************************************************************

The window above the bed scattered beams of light in various shades across the quilt that covered Emma and Killian. They were both still naked, and Emma was tucked against him, running her hands through his chest hair. He ran his hands along her bare arm and kept brushing kisses to her forehead. 

Emma let out a contented sight, “That was amazing. I want to do it again and again and again.”

Killian chuckled. “I’m so relieved to hear you say that. I was so worried, I even asked Liam for advice.”

Emma twisted so she could look into his face. “You talked to Liam about us having sex?” she yelped. 

“Not like that, just . . . I wanted to be sure I was sensitive to what you’ve been through. He understood that and was really helpful. I read that some guys are really rushed and insensitive without meaning to be when it’s their first time, and I didn’t want to do anything stupid.”

Emma nodded, then a slow grin spread across her face. “Well, whatever he told you, I need to send him a thank you card, because . . . wow!”

Killian laughed. “Now, that would be awkward.”

Emma suddenly grew quiet, and her hand stilled in its exploration of his chest. 

“Emma?” he asked tentatively.

She sighed and rolled over next to him on her back. For her to lie there next to him, her breasts uncovered, made him feel so honored to receive that vulnerability. Still, something told him she was insecure about something.

“Did I disappoint you, though?” she asked.

Killian rolled closer to her as he exclaimed, “What? Why would you ask that?”

“Well, I doubt you imagined a woman with this kind of figure for your first time.” She ran her hand over her baby bump, which still wasn’t incredibly noticeable, to be honest. 

“Emma,” he said softly, turning her chin to face him, “you are the most beautiful, exquisite thing I have ever seen in my life. I thought I was going to internally combust for a moment when your dress hit the floor.”

Emma chuckled at that, but he could still see the insecurity in her eyes. He decided to show her instead. He gently ran his hand down the length of her body, stopping at her rounded abdomen. He caressed it gently, then leaned down and placed a lingering kiss right beside her belly button. To his surprise, he felt a small thump in response. 

Emma gasped, and Killian’s head snapped up. “Did he just -”

“Yes,” Emma laughed, “he just kicked you.”

Killian lowered his lips again to Emma’s belly. “Hello, little one,” he said, “it’s me, your daddy.”

He kissed Emma’s belly button again, and Emma dug her fingers into his hair. When he looked back up at her, tears were shining in her eyes. He pushed himself up and kissed her, gently at first, and then with more passion. Emma broke the kiss, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“Didn’t you say something about a double shower?”

Before he knew it, she was out of the bed and darting to the bathroom door. With a growl, he jumped up and chased after her. 

[eastwesthomeisbest]

Emma Dressed in Blood

A ghost story inspired by the "Anna Dressed in Blood" book series by Kendare Blake.

For @cssns 2024 event

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