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donteattheappleshook · 2 years ago

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Not Broken At All Chapter 11/?

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 M

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

I'm so sorry for how long this chapter took! It was going to be a certain chapter, then got switched to another, then got switched back and cut in two because it was too damn long... Even the person in the room changed

So anyway, here it is, the first half of the chapter that has affectionately been nicknamed "the one with the fairy orgy"... I'm so sorry.

Thank you thank you thank you thank you always @the-darkdragonfly and @elizabeethan for your help with this feral fic 😘

And thank you everyone for the reblogs, comments and replies that give me so much dopamine ❤️

*****

Part 11

Emma stands tense outside the room she’s just been locked out of, holding her breath as the unfamiliar voice carries over through the door, confused and on edge about what possible threat could have been waiting for Killian inside. There’s a moment before he speaks.

“Tink.” The word leaves him with a sigh of relief and it takes her a moment to place the name. “It’s been a while.”

The fairy scoffs, her voice betraying bitter grudges when she answers. “You could say that.”

“I didn’t mean to -”

“Save it,” Tink interrupts him. “I’m not here to talk about that. I don’t care that you’re back or whether you’re planning to stay.”

Lie, Emma thinks. She knows that tone all too well, defences up, hiding pain with indifference - they can’t hurt you if you don’t care - and realises that this is yet another person Killian left behind, intentionally or not. For a moment she wonders if Tinkerbelle is just another scorned lover, if that’s why he’d locked her out of the room. But Emma heard her carefully constructed detachment. It’s more than that.

“I’m just delivering a message,” she finishes.

“From who?”

“Mab.” A long silence follows the name and Killian’s answer is quiet when it finally comes.

“Wendy said you went back.”

She scoffs again. “Not like I had much of a choice, did I?”

“You could have stayed on the ship -”

“What turned to piracy? Pretended to be an overgrown lost boy all dressed up in leather?” The thinly-veiled insult sounds personal and when Killian doesn’t take the bait she continues harshly. “We both know Pan only likes us side-characters when we’ve got our hero to play sidekick to. A fairy with no magic on her own in the woods? I became target practice real quick.”

“Tink…”

The emotion in her voice hardens. “Like I said, I’m just here on behalf of the Queen.”

“You’re her messenger now?” Emma can tell there’s no malice behind the question, shock maybe, but no mocking. Tink takes it that way regardless.

“They’re my people, Hook,” she spits. “I should never have left them in the first place. They told me you’d get bored - just like Pan did.”

“I didn’t -”

“You’re expected at dawn. Don’t be late - you know she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Aye.”

“I’m assuming your request has something to do with the blonde in the hall?” Emma freezes, worried that her cover is blown. Clearly Killian hadn’t been as quick as he thought. But Wendy had said they would see through her disguise. He doesn’t answer. “What the hell are you getting us involved in, Hook?”

After a pause he answers carefully. “A change.”

Tink laughs bitterly. “Nothing changes in Neverland. You of all people should know that by now. Two hundred years you tried to get away? And now here you are, back where you started, playing his game.”

“I’m not playing his game,” he bites out. “I’m ending it. Once and for all.”

She snorts in disbelief. “All you’re going to end is your life - and you’ll drag anyone stupid enough to take your side right down along with you. But you don’t really care about that, do you? Not so long as you get your revenge. Same story, different crocodile, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Tink,” he says, somehow managing to hold his composure despite the accusations she throws at him. “But it’s different this time.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” she snaps in disgust, offended at the suggestion. “I just know a stupid idea when I hear it. And so does the Queen. She’ll never agree.”

“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

Emma doesn’t hear anything else from inside the cabin, the silence drawing out until the sound of the lock sliding free snaps sharply against her ear that’s practically pressed to the wood. The door remains shut, shuffling footsteps, a drawer being opened and the clink of heavy glass coming from the other side. When she pushes it open and steps carefully inside, Killian’s sat back in the armchair, a tumbler in his hand, the bottle left open on his desk.

He looks up when she enters, flashing her a grimacing imitation of a smile and tilting his glass. “Rum?”

She wonders for a moment if she should leave him alone; clearly, he's in need of some wallowing. But he looks particularly self-destructive as he brings his drink to his lips, staring off at the window where she imagines the fairy came and went through, and she thinks better of it. He did promise her a nightcap after all.

There’s no second glass, so Emma picks up the bottle, drinking from it as she hops up and takes its place on the table. The little smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips is more believable this time.

“So that was Tinkerbell, huh?” she asks, taking another sip - because it’s really good rum.

“Aye. Different from your stories, I take it?”

She thinks for a second about the cranky little fairy with a take no prisoners attitude from the movie and shrugs. “Actually they got her pretty spot on I think. Only in the movie she was really tiny, and definitely dressed by a man.” Emma hadn’t seen the stranger the voice belonged to but she somehow assumes those two were artistic liberties.

Killian hums. “Fairies are only tiny when they want to be. Makes them particularly good at sneaking into all sorts of places they have no business being.”

“From what you’ve told me, I don’t know if you can really call your bedroom somewhere she has no business being.” She’s pretty sure he just rolled his eyes at her and it makes her snort. Or maybe that’s the fourth sip of rum she’s now taking. “Is she right?” Emma wonders aloud somberly as she drinks again. “Are we fucked?”

“I’m going to assume that’s some lovely colloquial way of asking if we’re going to fail in your land,” he says, raising a brow. “Because if you’re asking literally I -”

“It is.” She’s the one rolling her eyes now.

“She’s angry with me,” he sighs. “An all too common affliction around here.” Emma doesn’t bother offering any insincere comfort. He messed up and he knows it. He left people behind and now he has to face up to it. “It’s clouding her judgement. Queen Mab hates Pan as much as everyone else on this island. They have the least to lose in trying to defeat him.” She’s not sure she likes the fact that he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Why’s that?”

“Pan’s afraid of them. He has control over the whole island but their magic is ancient and powerful.”

“So then why don’t they just kill him?”

“I’ve asked myself that same question for centuries.”

“Did you think of asking them?”

He turns to her, narrowing his eyes. “The creatures of Neverland aren’t very forthcoming with their secrets.”

“That’s a pretty evasive way of saying everyone else is evasive.” She smirks at his annoyed glare, taking another swig from the bottle.

“I think perhaps you’ve had enough rum,” Killian suggests, reaching for the bottle as though she’ll hand it over. She only scoffs, helping herself to another drink and he sighs. “Well at least share if you’re planning on finishing the bottle,” he insists, nudging his glass towards her.

She pours him a generous serving and they drink in silence for a while, both reflecting on the day to come tomorrow. Fairies. As weird as the mermaids were, she somehow knows the fairies will be even weirder. And she’s supposed to be some sort of enticement to get them on their side which is still so confusing to her. What exactly about her is considered the enticement?

“What am I supposed to do tomorrow?” He raises a brow, drawn from his thoughts. “I’m bait right? Or like some strange way of sweetening the deal? What am I supposed to do?”

“Nothing. Stay close to me and Wendy. You’ll be more of a distraction, a way to get their guard down, make them more open to listening.”

“That’s really weird. And kind of creepy.”

“You’ve never used your beauty or your wiles to help you get what you want?” he challenges and she recalls all the honey traps she’d set to catch dirtbag skips.

She helps herself to more rum, the dark liquor making her feel warm and relaxed for the first time in days. “So just sit there, shut up, and look pretty?”

He smirks. “Somehow I don’t believe the ability to sit there or shut up are skills that you possess, Swan.” Emma makes a snarky face at him and he chuckles, sliding his now empty glass back towards her. “You're a rarity in this land, love. The Fae are a vain people and they’re desperate to possess the most exquisite and remarkable of everything.” She moves to refill his drink, spilling when he adds. “And you’re certainly that.”

“Shit,” she mutters, wiping at the little puddle of rum.

“If not wholly uncoordinated,” Killian smirks as she hops off the desk to go retrieve the cloth next to his washbasin. Turning back though, all thoughts of the spill are discarded because he’s sitting there, lounging in his chair with his shirt half unbuttoned, looking like he just sauntered off the pages of a pirate romance novel; and she can blame the rum for it later, or just the fact that it’s been a while, or how good it felt to kiss him in the hallway, but she decides to just fuck everything else. She deserves something good after the hellish few days she’s been through.

His smirk fades when she crosses the room back to him, discarding the cloth on the desk and stopping in front of his chair. She only hesitates for a second before climbing into his lap, settling a knee on either side of his hips, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. Killian’s breath is hot against her lips when he asks, “What are you doing, Swan?” as though he could really be misreading anything she’s doing.

“Using my wiles to get what I want?” she shrugs in answer. “Unless you really did just mean a drink when you offered that nightcap-” His hand is at the back of her neck before she can finish, weaving through her hair and dragging her mouth down to his.

Emma can taste the rum on him, heady and spiced as he draws her into a kiss that’s more intoxicating than the drink, wasting no time in picking up where they left off outside his room. She chalks it up to some inexplicable Neverland magic, the way she reacts to him, the heat that burns through her, the all consuming desire for him, to somehow get closer than the way they’re already pressed together, to taste more of him, her tongue sliding past his lips, fingers reaching for the few buttons he’d bothered to fasten.

Her legs wrap around his hips as his brace slides across her back, standing suddenly from his chair and lifting her onto his desk, knocking the almost empty bottle off and sending it crashing to the floor. He doesn’t seem to care, thumb tracing her jaw as he tilts her head to deepen the kiss, hook drawing along the length of her thigh to her knee.

When she drags her mouth away to try catch her breath, his lips find the line of her neck, his tongue dragging across her skin, the scratch of his stubble making her shiver. She tilts her head back to give him more access, biting back a moan, fully aware of how well sound carries through these walls. His mouth is just beginning its exploration of the low neckline of her shirt when, as if she’d cursed herself just by thinking it, she vaguely hears the door unlatching.

“Hook? Is everything - Oh shit!” Killian pulls himself away - not nearly as quickly as he should really - at the sound of Wendy’s panicked voice. Emma sits frozen, mortified. “I’m sorry. Um, I heard glass break and I just came to see if - I thought maybe Pan - Well, clearly you’re fine so I’ll just… Carry on.”

As if. Face burning, Emma shoves at Killian’s chest until he steps back from her, jumping off the desk and turning, unable to meet the other woman’s eye. “It’s fine. I was just - we were just… I’m going to bed now,” she says, unable to come up with a decent explanation that Wendy would buy. She’s not an idiot. “We’ve got an early morning after all,” she adds, heading out of the room.

“We do?” the girl asks, and Emma only casts a glance back at Killian, who looks more annoyed at being interrupted than anything.

“He can explain,” she answers, hurrying past her. She’s only just shut the door behind her when she hears Wendy’s voice carrying over through it. Clearly all the flustered apologies had been for her benefit, not Killian’s.

“You didn’t waste any time did you?”

“Didn’t we have a conversation about knocking?”

Shutting her eyes and heaving a sigh, feeling like an idiot, she makes her way down the hall to her room, hoping she can wake up having dreamed the whole embarrassing incident.

***

Emma wakes to a knock on her door, a soft “Swan,” called through it and she groans, rolling over and hiding her face under the blanket. She’s pretty sure she just fell asleep and now someone has the nerve to rob her of the few hours she was hoping to get tonight. Her head hurts. Probably from the rum, she scolds herself, and then her stomach tightens in embarrassment and something else as she’s flooded with memories of liquor on her tongue and on Killian’s, of bodies pressed together and fingers tangled in her hair, rings catching and tugging at the strands.

He knocks again. “Swan?”

“Go away,” she grumbles, not ready to face him after she threw herself at him last night… twice. She thinks it almost would have been better if they had slept together. That way at least she could have gotten it out of her system and she wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of unresolved tension and the humiliation of getting caught.

Killian laughs softly. “We have to go. It’ll be dawn soon and there’s a ways to go to the Fae lands.” She groans again. Of course there is. Because every single group on this island apparently decided to set up camp as far away from one another as they could. She cracks an eye open, the room still pitch black. Who demands their guests show up before dawn? Right, fairy queens, that’s who. She hates fairy queens.

Dragging herself out of bed, she shuffles blindly into her boots and across the room, finding the doorknob and cracking it open, squinting against the dim light of the hall. “I’m up,” she sighs, glaring as best she can between her hangover and the light at the amused look on Killian’s face. “Let’s go,” she urges, gesturing for him to lead the way and following groggily behind him.

To his credit, he doesn’t say anything, no comment on her current state or on the events of last night. She’d have expected him to be smug - moreso than usual anyway - or embarrassed - does he get embarrassed? But instead he’s silent as they walk through the hall, not even turning back to throw an innuendo over his shoulder.

For a second she wonders if she did dream up their encounter last night. But the faded redness she can feel still hot on her neck and the slight hangover still stubbornly rattling around in her head and in her stomach tell her it hadn’t been a dream. Either he was over it, or he’d just decided not to be a self-satisfied jerk about it. Or, she thinks - and the thought bothers her more than it should - he just wasn’t as affected by it as she was. Maybe random hookups with quazi-friends aren’t so out of the ordinary for him. He does get his fair share of tail around here. She’s too bothered by the fact that the idea bothers her to even snort at her own pun.

When they reach the deck and find Wendy and Will waiting for them, Emma can’t meet her eyes. Will looks between the three of them with a confused frown, clearly sensing something off. Emma’s just happy that Wendy didn’t tell him. It gives her the courage to glance up at the other woman and she receives a small, tentative smile in return.

“Whatever happens,” Killian tells them all, reassuming his role as Captain, “stick together. Nobody wanders off on their own.”

“Why’re you looking at me, mate?” Will scowls. Emma was wondering the same thing, noting his pointed glance at her.

“Wendy and I haven’t aged in centuries,” he reminds them. “We’re hardly human by their standards anymore. You two on the other hand...”

The younger pirate rolls his eyes. “I’m nearly eighty years old, ain’t I? And it’s not my first time at the Fae court.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“Oy!”

Killian’s headed off towards the dinghy before the younger pirate can say anymore. Passing by him, Emma shoots Will a playful smirk. “You look pretty good for your age,” she tells him before following the Captain over the side of the ship. Will beams.

They’re deep in the jungle when her guides finally slow their pace. The foliage here is as dense and dark as it was by the mermaids’ caves and the Constant’s walls, and Emma wonders if all the creatures came to some consensus that anyone who wanted to visit would have to find their way blind to their territory, or if it’s just an annoying coincidence.

“We’re here,” Killian tells her. “Remember what I said; stay close and don’t eat or drink anything unless we tell you it’s safe.”

She nods. It’s not like she has much of an appetite anyway, between her nerves and the old rum still sloshing around in her stomach. And she has no intention of finding herself alone in a place where any of the inhabitants would apparently be thrilled to steal a hundred years of her life for fun. “Got it, no drinking the Kool-aid.”

Wendy and Will are pulling apart branches that have formed a dense covering in front of them, light poking through the dark as they do, and Emma cranes her neck to see where it’s coming from. There’s a sound of running water as the light takes on a golden hue as what she assumes is the entrance is revealed. But it’s not frightening like it had been at the lorelei’s cave, no strange echo and singing, only the soft, almost soothing rush of a river nearby. She can already feel herself drawn to it, and it’s not until Killian reaches an arm out across her waist that she realizes she’d begun walking unwittingly towards the entrance.

“Keep your wits about you,” he warns her. “Everything in the Fae Court is designed to make you want to stay; everything is a calculated temptation. Remember that, and don’t give in.”

“Right,” she swallows. Shutting her eyes in an attempt to get herself back under control, she takes a few deep breaths as Will and Wendy clear the rest of the foliage from their path. When she opens her eyes again there’s a gate in front of them, solid gold and decorated with intricate carvings of flowers and animals, and fairies in various states of undress. It’s beautiful, the soft glow that she’d seen before now revealed to be hundreds - thousands - of lanterns beyond the gate, lit against the dark of the predawn hour. She’s never seen anything like it.

“Fuck,” Wendy breathes, breaking her from her enchantement (which may or may not have been an actual enchantement). “It’s Solstice.”

“Solstice?” Emma asks as Killian curses under his breath, walking over to look at the lanterns through the gate. Will looks absolutely thrilled. “What’s Solstice?” she presses.

“A celebration of the shortest night of the year and the return of the sun,” Wendy explains.

“It’s the Fae’s most sacred festival,” Killian adds, rubbing at his temples with thumb and forefinger before pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “How did we not realize it was Solstice?” he asks the others.

“So it’s kind of like Christmas?”

A slow, knowing smile creeps across Will’s face and she doesn’t trust the amused look in his eyes. “Something like that, aye.”

“We have to go, come back another time,” Killian decides but his second frowns at him in disbelief.

“And spurn the Queen’s invitation? To Solstice? If you’re looking to make an enemy, Hook, I know some less terrifying people you could offend.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Yes. We go in there before the sun starts to rise, participate in the celebration like grateful guests, and gain favour with Her Majesty before we ask her to risk her entire queendom with us.”

“You don’t understand… the ceremony it’s… complicated and-”

“It’s not my first Solstice,” she interrupts and his eyes go wide.

“It’s what?”

“The summer one is better,” Will pipes in, Wendy nodding in agreement with a fond smile. Killian looks horrified and someone had better tell her what the hell this ceremony is that she might be getting involved in.

“We need her help,” Emma reminds him. “Tiger Lily said they wouldn’t help unless we have the fairies on our side. So unless you think we can save Henry and take down Pan with only the lorelei I think we just have to go to the party.” A party shouldn’t hold so much weight, she thinks, wondering when Neverland became high school.

“I agree,” Wendy backs her up and Killian shoots her a disapproving look.

“I’ll go,” he declares. “I’ll speak to the Queen privately and the three of you can stay out of it.”

“What and leave you to have all the fun?” Will argues, sounding very put out. “Not likely.”

“Tink probably already told her about Emma, and we haven’t missed a Solstice in nearly a decade.” Wendy points out. “We can’t risk her thinking she’s been stood up or that we’re hiding something from her - especially something she wants. We all have to go.”

“How bad can it be?” Emma adds, going for encouraging, and wishes she hadn’t when she sees the frown that crosses his face.

“It’s not that bad at all,” Wendy assures her. “It’s actually really fun so long as you’re careful and don’t eat seven walnuts and decide to jump in the river because you think you’re a frog.”

“That was one time!” Will sighs defensively.

“I’m surprised they invited us back.”

“How many times have you gone?”

Will looks like he’s counting while Wendy only quips back “How many times have you?”

“Guys, I can’t see the stars anymore. We’ve got to decide soon,” she urges them.

Killian’s sigh is long-suffering and reluctant. “Fine. But if anything happens to her-” he begins to warn the other captain, but stops himself.

Her frustrated expression softens. “It won’t. We’ll be careful.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t have fun though, right?” Will ventures. “We were invited to the celebration…”

“Is someone gonna explain this celebration to me, or are you all just gonna keep talking about me like I’m some helpless damsel you all need to watch over?”

With a proud smirk, Wendy reaches for the gate and runs her hand over the seam which trails a golden light in its wake. Emma jumps when two of the little carved fairies on either side suddenly come to life and look at the pirate. “We have an audience with the Queen,” she tells the living gold fairies. “Captain Hook and his crew.” After a moment, the figures each take hold of their side of the gate and, wings fluttering furiously, they pull the doors open.

“I’m going to regret this,” Killian breathes before leading the way through the threshold.

Wendy loops her arm through Emma’s. “The whole day is a really big party. Food and drinks and music and dancing from sunup to sundown. That’s why the summer is better - the days are longer.”

That doesn’t sound so bad minus the frog walnuts, she thinks as they follow the path through the ancient, winding trees. These don’t look like the rest of Neverland’s dense jungle with crowded trees and dark, waxy leaves. No, these are ancient. Willows and oaks with moss covered trunks and branches, leaves pale green and hanging down along the path reflect the soft light from the lanterns that float magically all around them. The whole thing looks like… well, a fairytale.

“Beautiful isn’t it?”

Emma nods, remembering Killian’s warning that everything here was designed to make people want to stay. She can hear music not far off, soft and melodic. “So then what’s the big deal?” she asks.

“Um, well,” Wendy starts as they draw closer to what she imagines is the court, outlines of figures in the dim light, laughter floating over in tune with the strings being played. All dressed in the same, loose fitting tunics and pants or dresses made of gauzy material and ornately patterned fabrics. She can see the gold gleaming off of the stitching from yards away. Disney’s Tinkerbelle was definitely drawn by a dude. “The Fae have a different way of celebrating than most humans.”

Emma frowns, wondering what she means by the vague explanation as she watches the graceful partygoers mingle, drinking from crystal and golden flutes, picking food from trays being carried by more modestly dressed fairies.

A group of couples are dancing over by the musicians, others sat around watching or talking over the melody. It seems like a pretty standard party apart from the fact that they’ve all got wings, fine and delicate looking, that extend the entire length of their person. One fairy’s wings flutter as her partner swings her around, her feet leaving the grass as she spins in mid air.

Another couple have retreated into one another, locked in an embrace that feels a little intimate for the middle of a dance floor, but Emma’s been to clubs before, she’s no stranger to people getting a little carried away in public. What she’s not used to, is the way one of the other fairies, a tall, handsome redhead who’d been watching the pairs dance, sets his drink down, standing to cross the field and join them. She blinks in disbelief as he wraps his arms around the woman and reaches to cup her partner’s cheek so he can kiss him. Emma looks away, face red as the woman trails her lips along the length of the first man’s neck, all three sets of hands wandering, reaching for whatever inch of skin they can touch in the sudden menage-a-trois that seems to have formed.

“Looks like some are getting started early,” Wendy says, as though a random three-way in the middle of the party is nothing out of the ordinary.

“Early?” she gapes, the words registering as she watches another couple flirting boldly by a table covered in cakes and pastries, a touch starting innocently and then quickly growing bolder. “Oh my god.” She stares at Wendy as they approach the crowd. “Is this a sex party?” Suddenly, Killian’s distress over his near-daughter having attended several of these celebrations starts to make more sense.

“It’s not a sex party,” she defends. “It’s a celebration of love and new beginnings, of life and the vitality that fuels their magic.” Emma stares blankly at her. “Okay fine, it’s not just a sex party.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” Killian argues and Emma turns to look at him, her attention having been fixed on the dancers ahead as they walked. She can see more people now, coming from the forest to join the party. All beautiful in their rich clothing and dazzling, excited smiles.

Oh my god, she’s at a fucking fairy orgy. She’d laugh if she wasn’t still so stunned.

“And you guys have all been here before?” For a place that was supposed to be for kids, everyone else in Neverland seems to really get around.

“A handful of times,” he answers shortly and Wendy scoffs under her breath.

“It’s considered quite an honour in their realm to be invited,” Will tells her. Emma doesn’t really have a reply to that.

“So everyone just… all day?”

He snorts. “Basically.”

“There are other things too,” Wendy promises. “Food and drink and dancing. There’s a whole ceremonial aspect to it as well, you know.” Killian rolls his eyes. She thinks maybe there wasn’t much more to it for him. “Their magic comes from dedication, to all things, from worshipping the power in everything around them, the earth, the sky, the food, and the people.”

“Hence all the…” Emma gestures vaguely at the couples, “worshipping.” She doesn’t really understand, but this isn’t her world and people throw these kinds of parties for way less where she’s from.

“It feeds their magic.”

“And is everyone expected to… participate?” she asks warily, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Wendy’s casual ‘yes’ and Killian’s emphatic ‘no’ and spoken at the same time. Killian glares at Wendy before turning to Emma. “In the celebration, yes. But one can celebrate however they like.” She holds back a snarky question about how he’s chosen to celebrate in the past as a fairy notices them. She’s gorgeous - of course she is, Emma wants to roll her eyes - tanned skin and short black hair, wings fluttering demurely as she hops up and glides across the field to land in front of them.

“Hook,” she greets with a coy smile. Killian’s face looks torn between the natural urge to smoulder and a determination to keep his sombre mood.

“Thistle.”

“Where have you been?” she accuses, pouting prettily. “We’ve missed you,” she tells him, hand tracing delicately along the chain at his neck before wrapping around the charms.

We? Emma wants to ask, but before she can, two more fairies saunter over, a tall, curvy blonde and an equally stunning redhead. The whole trifecta, she rolls her eyes. The two Fae women join the first, draping themselves shamelessly around his arms, fingers playing at his hair, the lapels of his coat, the curve of his ears which Emma notes are bright red. Wendy looks like she’s going to be sick. It’s a bit much, really. She gets it, he’s fucked a lot of fairies.

“Solstice hasn’t been the same without you, you know,” The blonde tells him, catching her suggestive smirk between her teeth. “Why didn’t you come back?”

“I… had some business to attend to in the Land Without Magic.”

“For ten years?” the little brunette demands. But before he can answer, defend the fact that time continued here without him, the redhead traces a bejewelled finger along the dimple in his chin, smiling wickedly.

“It’s alright, Thistle. He can make it up to us this year,” she assures them before her lips find the underside of his jaw.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Wendy curses under her breath. “I don’t know if I can handle a Solstice with him,” she tells Will.

Killian clears his throat, eyes casting quickly and uncomfortably to Emma’s as he extracts both his arms from the fairies’ grips. “I - uh, that is I…” She doesn't think she’s ever seen him speechless before. Though that may have something to do with the blonde’s hand wandering dangerously close to his belt. Emma turns away, not in the mood to watch him get it on with Charlie’s Angels, when a voice calls his name from the center of the party.

“Killian Jones,” the woman declares, walking over with arms spread wide. The fairies who’d been fawning a moment ago quickly detach themselves from him, pulling back to stand behind Killian, bowing low. The imposing woman beams at him, stunning, dark skinned with black hair curling tightly down to her waist, flowers and golden beads woven intricately throughout. “The infamous Captain Hook returns.” The fairy takes his face in her hands, pressing a kiss to each of his cheeks. “It’s been too long.”

Killian offers a small bow, seemingly unable to fight his smile. “Your Majesty.”

*******

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jgvfhl · 3 years ago

Text

Happy Neverland New Year!

@neverlandnewyear

Yay! First entry for me! It's been a while since I did anything with the OUAT fandom, or Captain Swan for that matter, but I was inspired to join these festivities. Also I love random magical shenanigans. I hope folks enjoy!

Summary: Hook has been trying to be better for Emma--he has. But it's hard when her parents are Snow White and Prince Annoyingly Charming, and he hasn't been a "good guy" in about two hundred years. To make matters worse, a confused and all-too-eager to please Lieutenant Killian Jones drops in out of nowhere, serving as a helpful reminder of just how far he's fallen.

Words: 3920

No warnings that I can think of, but if I need to change that, please let me know! Just a bunch of emotions...

----

Neverland had always had its delightful quirks as long as Hook could recall–usually leaning towards the deadly or otherwise harmful variety. The others, the ones new to Neverland, had learned that quickly over the past… well, one could never be quite sure how much time had passed here. So, the natural response to someone appearing in a puff of blue flame amidst their party was the shrill choir of several blades being drawn and leveled at the man on the dirt, his among them.

“Where the bloody hell–?” the man started, then raised his face to see three swords and one bow aimed at his face.

“What the hell–?” Emma said at about the same time.

And then everyone looked at Hook.

He sighed. Some emotion he didn’t stop to identify flared up–annoyance, anger, loathing, there were a few contenders–and he sheathed his cutlass. Everyone else’s weapons lowered slightly. “Get up,” he told the man on the ground. “Before you make a fool out of both of us.”

Killian Jones slowly got to his feet, brushing dirt off his breeches and Naval jacket. “Where in hell am I?” he asked, staring at the people around him.

“You’re in Neverland, you’ve never heard of it,” Hook told him, finding it difficult to meet his own (?) eyes. Then, to everyone else, he added, “You can put those away, he’s harmless.”

“You sure about that?” Mary Margret asked, lowering, but not stowing, her bow and arrow. “He’s you.”

Hook almost laughed at that, but the impulse died somewhere in his chest. The man who had just appeared in Royal Navy attire with a stupid-looking ponytail and both hands could hardly be farther from him. Young, full of hope of new life in the Navy, always under the watchful gaze of honorable big brother, probably hadn’t had a drop of rum in months, if Hook remembered correctly.

Hatred. That had been the emotion he hadn’t named earlier.

“I assure you, Your Highness,” he said, “you’ve nothing to worry about from him.”

“‘Your Highness?’” Killian repeated, looking between Mary Margret and Hook. He straightened up noticeably.

“Oh, no no, please–” she started, ever humble, and finally taking both hands off her weapon.

Hook stepped forward. “Yes, Her Highness.” He didn’t know why he was doing this. And he didn’t know why there was an odd satisfaction that came from watching Killian’s face when he caught sight of the hook as he used it to point people out. “That’s Her Highness Snow White, he’s her Prince Charming Dave, that lovely creature is their daughter Emma–don’t ask about the timeline on that one–and that is Baelfire but everyone calls him Neal. Got it?” He did not wait for a reaction of any kind. “Good. Now, if you don’t mind, they’re on a bit of a schedule, so if you’d like any chance of getting back to whatever you were doing, I suggest you keep up and do your best not to die.”

As Hook had expected, Killian nodded immediately. The flame of hatred burned a bit brighter in his chest at just how easily he’d fallen in.

“Good, let’s go.”

“Whoa, hold up,” Emma said, and Hook paused, his gaze falling to the ground before finding her face again. “We’re just gonna ignore the fact that your–your past self just dropped out of nowhere?”

“That was my plan, aye,” he answered. “Unless you’d like to put Henry’s rescue mission on pause and give Pan that much more time to dig his claws in?”

The others hesitated. Emma scrutinized him in that way she had.

“I believe we still have a shadow to collect, yes?” he reminded her, gesturing to Neal’s satchel where the coconut shell trap was. If she would just stop looking at him like that…

“Fine.” Sheathing her sword over her back, she then said, “I’ll go with Neal to Dark Hollow to get the shadow. Mom, Dad, you’ll find Tinkerbell, and we’ll meet back up by her place once we’ve got the shadow.”

“And what about them?” David asked, sheathing his own blade and probably trying to ignore his wife not looking at him. “I was just getting used to one pirate around, I’m not sure I want to deal with two.”

Hook restrained the dramatic eye roll he wanted to perform as he waited for Killian’s all-too-predictable reaction. “Pirate?” There it was. The familiar tones of learned self-righteousness. Liam would have been so proud. “I am not some common thief, Your Highness,” Killian said sharply, taking a step away from Hook, his hand drifting towards the handle of his sword. “I am Lieutenant Killian Jones of the Jewel of the Realm and an officer of the King’s Navy, not a pirate.”

David’s eyebrows rose. “Oh.”

“I’d just as soon accompany Emma to get the shadow,” Hook offered, brushing past the interaction in hopes he wouldn’t have to talk about why his past and present selves currently wanted to kill each other.

“No, hang on.” Emma shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. “How do you know you don’t need to stay with him so your past self doesn’t die and Back to the Future you out of existence?”

Everyone except Neal stared blankly at her. He translated. “We don’t know that if something happens to him–” he gestured to Killian– “it won’t affect you too. Because–he’s you.”

“He’s not me!” Killian exclaimed, taking another step away. “This–this is some kind of magical trick–it’s not–”

The small thread of control restraining Hook to civility finally burned through as another flare of loathing jumped in his gut. “You are bloody useless here,” he snapped, “so unless you’ve got hidden magical abilities or a way off this damn island, I suggest you keep your mouth shut if you ever want to see Liam again!”

With a whir of metal on metal, Killian drew his cutlass, but Hook had recognized the familiar dark glower on his face moments ago, and had his drawn and moving before his much younger self could even react. In a few choice motions, Killian was disarmed and pressed face-first against a tree with a hook aimed at his neck.

“That’s enough!” Emma’s sharp call made something in Hook’s chest cringe. He hadn’t wanted her to see that in him. He’d been trying so hard, but then this idiot–

He let out a quiet breath through his nose and lowered his head. As he slowly released his hold on Killian, the latter shook him off and scrambled several steps away. David moved in front of him, sword raised in guard. Predictable.

“What the hell was that?” Emma demanded, Neal’s cutlass raised at him.

Hook sheathed his cutlass again. “May I please accompany you and Neal to Dark Hollow to capture the shadow?” he asked, looking somewhere in the direction of her boots.

Her mother spoke up before she got the chance to answer. “After that, why would I want you going anywhere with my daughter?” Her bow and arrow were back in her more than capable hands, although at the moment, it was aimed at his toes.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure either one of you can sail the Jolly Roger once we have the shadow, right?” David followed up. “Right now, I’m liking the lieutenant more than the pirate.”

“You never liked the pirate,” Hook reminded him flatly.

Emma cut in. “Okay, okay, enough. Like Hook said, we’re on a schedule.” She handed the cutlass over to Neal and stepped towards him. “Whatever this is,” she said, glancing at Killian, “you need to deal with it. On your own time.”

He couldn’t deny his heart sank. He’d had a feeling it would end up like this ever since Pan had told him Neal was alive and on Neverland. Part of him–perhaps the part of him more like Killian than he would like to admit–had hoped if he was just good enough, he might stand a chance.

“But we need to focus on Henry right now,” she continued. “And you know your way around the island, so if one of us doesn’t make it back, you can get the shadow back to the others. Killian can go with my parents.”

“So…”

“So you’re coming with me. As long as you both are going to behave yourselves,” she added, giving stern looks to Neal and himself.

Hook nodded, relaxing a bit. “As you wish, then.”

-scene break-

Emma was disappointed, again, he could tell. It wasn’t like he had planned to have a disagreement with Neal going into this mission. But then again, he hadn’t exactly been planning on facing down his younger self today either. He wasn’t in his best of moods, and seeing Rumplestiltskin out of the blue had done little to help that fact. But at least he’d brought a way to defeat Pan, and now they had the shadow as well.

Hook had jumped at the opportunity for first watch outside the camp. If his enthusiasm to get out and away from them all showed a bit too much, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Mary Margret and David had come back from their trek seemingly at peace from their earlier argument after Echo Cave. Emma and Regina had refocused on helping each other save Henry. Neal would do whatever it took to help his son, and Tinkerbell had had quite the change of heart now that a way off the island was in her sights. Even Rumplestiltskin, even the Crocodile, seemed oddly tranquil, constantly turning Pandora’s Box in his hands.

Worst of all, Killian seemed quite content to follow after Dave and Mary Margret–just like he followed Liam, Hook knew. It was obvious to him, but it seemed a pleasant surprise to everyone else. Everyone except Regina and Rumplestiltskin, the only other villains on this trip.

So, yes, he’d taken the first offer to get the hell out of camp, where he was now, trying not to think about what Emma and Killian might have been talking about with Neal when he’d seen them last. It was probably nothing.

It probably wasn’t Emma preferring to talk to the version of him with no ulterior motive and a distinct lack of romantic interest in her.

Rustling leaves behind him made him turn quickly, but his caution soon faded. It was Killian. Silently bracing himself for the grating exchange sure to follow, he asked, “Where are you off to, sailor?”

Killian eyed him with no small amount of caution in return as he answered. “Collecting firewood.”

An excuse to be even farther from camp? That was attractive. “I could do that. You can fill in for me until I get back.”

“I’m perfectly capable of collecting firewood, pirate.”

There is was. “You could just call me Hook like everyone else does, regardless of how much they hate me.”

Killian stared at him, and it was quite unnerving to recognize the piercing expression he himself had spent so long perfecting. “You really think you have any chance with Emma?”

Hook clenched his jaw shut, clamping down on the first curse words coming to mind. Did he think he had a chance? Sure, before this idiot had showed up and brought into sharp relief just how far he had to go.

“A man who’s probably spent the past–well, I don’t know how long in a life of thievery and murder on the high seas? If you’d spent one second listening to her, you’d have figured out she’s more concerned with rescuing her son than with anything you have to offer.”

“I did listen,” Hook said before he could go on (and on and on). “Why in hell do you think I offered my ship to bring them all here? And back?”

“That’s the bare minimum!” Killian shot back. “There’s a boy in danger, his parents asked you for help, it shouldn’t be a song and dance to offer it. You do it because it’s right, Hook.”

That hurt. And Killian had meant it to. He gave a last disdainful look, then turned to continue on his way into the jungle, drawing his cutlass to cut away vines. Hook watched him disappear in the foliage, and it struck him that Killian hadn’t ever asked what had happened to him into what he was today. Knowing him (and he did), hearing it made the possibility real. Killian wanted to pretend he could never become him. Hook could understand that. And he hated that he understood.

After a few seconds of relative quiet, Hook was again on alert when more footsteps sounded from camp. But it was worse than Killian this time, because it was Emma. Of course, it was Emma, because this was Neverland: cruel tricks and toying with emotions were her specialties.

“Hey.”

He found a tree to lean his back against so he didn’t have to face her. “Is it time to switch?”

She blinked, then shook her head, a small smile appearing on her face briefly. “No, not yet. I was just um…. Well. It’s not every day your past self drops into your life without warning, so.” She gestured with a hand, but didn’t finish the sentence.

He stared at her–something he had been trying not to do as often, but now he couldn’t help himself. “Are you checking in on me, Swan?”

Emma shrugged. “Sure.”

Something bright and hopeful made an attempt to squeeze its way into his heart, but he shoved it away. “Why?”

“I just said why.”

“Right, the landmark event of spontaneous time-travel,” he said. “Not the fact that I’m stuck in arguably my least favorite place in the world, actively going against one of the more powerful enemies I’ve made to rescue a boy I’ve only met recently. And, of course, in order to do that, I’m working with the man I’ve spent the better part of two centuries hunting down for my revenge.” He pushed off the tree to face her. “So forgive me if I’m wondering: why now?”

Emma pressed her lips together and nodded, crossing her arms. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair. But… you slammed his face into a tree, Hook.”

His gaze dropped to the ground. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone meant for that to happen,” she said, taking a step towards him. “But seriously, why do you two hate each other so much?”

He laughed, short and humorless. “Oh, that’s fairly simple,” he said. “He hates that I’m a pirate, and I hate that he’s not. There you are.” He hated lying to her. And of course, she could always tell.

Like now, as her mouth tilted down at one corner and one of her eyebrows arched upward. “Simple? Nothing about what’s between you two is simple, Hook. I can see that much.”

She was right. There was nothing simple here. There was nothing simple about the horrible, hopeful thing clawing at his heart when he spoke to her. Nothing simple could explain the sheer terror he’d felt when he’d first noticed it. There was nothing simple about the sharp flare of hatred he’d felt upon recognizing his past self. He really wasn’t sure anything could explain it, no matter how many words he used or how long it took.

He’d spent decades upon decades mired in darkness. After being dragged down by Liam’s death he found himself reveling in it, painting his face with it, soaking in the freedom that came from it. He’d always known he would never be the good man his brother had been–even the Killian that had appeared today knew that, for all his bluster about “good form” and being “King’s men.” That Killian looked at him and saw a man who had stopped fighting, who had fallen back to the darkness with a shameless splash of black, and was, in his eyes, thriving in it.

But he wasn’t thriving. Losing Liam had broken his heart, but losing Milah had killed something in him. The part of him that had reveled in evil, in being as bad as he wanted, in the freedom he’d gained from ignoring consequences, had died with her. The darkness had clung to him, feeling heavier than it had before, so he had become harsher just to keep carrying it. He killed without thinking, he flicked the blood off his blade or hook without a glance, where once he’d made a show of it. He looked around at his crew, at the people they conquered, and he felt nothing. He hadn’t felt human in…

And never once had he looked up to notice or to care about how far he’d fallen, how blackened and numb his heart had become.

Not until Emma.

Emma was a marvel. It had taken him some time to see it, but once he had, he had almost been shocked he’d missed her at all. It was as if he’d glimpsed her, high at the top of a staircase. There was something captivating about her, in her sincerity, in her decision, over and over, no matter the tragedies thrown at her, to choose hope. To choose good.

And he’d been climbing those stairs ever since, one foot ahead of the other, one step at a time, to reach her. It was hard. He’d slipped, multiple times. But he’d picked himself back up and kept climbing. She’d kissed him, and he’d thought he might actually have a chance at reaching the top of the staircase.

Then today had happened.

First, they’d rescued Neal in the Echo Caves, and that had been like someone shining a light on the steps he’d been climbing and revealing the dirty, black footprints he’d been leaving behind him ever since he’d dragged himself out of the darkness beneath.

Then Killian. Lieutenant Killian Jones of the Jewel of the Realm.

The best he’d ever been, in many respects.

And that had made Hook stop and look down, and it was like he’d only climbed three steps. He was still dripping darkness. The steps were slippery with it, like blood on the deck after battle. And Emma was still so, so far above him.

He hated Killian because he was human. Flawed, but human. He looked at a clear sky and he felt content, not nothing. He looked at a storm and he felt a thrill of determined anticipation, not nothing. He looked at children playing and he felt amusement, not nothing. He looked at himself in a mirror and he might even feel pride, not nothing. He saw death happen and he felt grief, not the maelstrom-like pull of darkness to fall down, down, down…

But the problem was, Hook wasn’t feeling nothing anymore. Whatever part of his humanity that had died with Milah–it wasn’t dead anymore. It was awake, and it was feeling. He watched Emma smile and he felt something. He saw her devotion to her family and he felt something. He didn’t want to put a name to what he was feeling yet, only that it wasn’t nothing. It was bright and sharp and warm, and it felt… human.

Hook looked back to where Emma was still waiting for a further explanation. He wasn’t ready to explain all of that to her. Hell, there were still bits he didn’t understand himself. And, clearly, this was neither the time or place to tell her that anyway. Echo Caves had proven that.

So he sighed and rubbed his jaw. “I’ve lived a long life, Emma,” he said. “Most of it hasn’t been particularly pleasant. Killian there–” he gestured off into the jungle where his younger self had disappeared a few moments earlier– “he’s at a high point. And I’m sure you can figure out what high points put in perspective.”

Emma followed his gesture, looking into the underbrush for a moment. Eventually, she nodded, and something in her expression made him feel she might actually understand that. “Right. Well… if you two can keep it together until we get back to Storybrooke, that would be… appreciated.”

“Of course,” he replied. “And I… I apologize for what happened in Dark Hollow.”

Her eyebrows rose a bit, but she quickly schooled her face to something more impassive. “Thank you.” She gave a small smile that made something in his chest ache.

Yes, he still wanted her. He still wanted to figure out what exactly she made him feel and how exactly she did it, but he would have to be patient. He could wait a bit longer.

“And, just between you and me,” Emma said, closing the distance between them to something far more intimate than he had expected, although he wouldn’t complain, “he’s probably a lousy kisser.”

That… had not been expected. It took a couple seconds for his brain to kick back into function after hearing it, then he laughed. He laughed because it was true, he knew it was true, and because hearing her reference their kiss in a positive light made the almost painful tension around it in his mind relax all at once.

Emma laughed too, and it was a beautiful sound and sight.

When he had regained his composure, Hook cleared his throat and said, “Well, speaking from experience, he most definitely is.”

“Yeah?” she asked with an intoxicating smile. They were still standing only a foot or so apart.

He raised an eyebrow at her in mock severity, suddenly feeling light enough to mock. “Aye, and I’ll ask you take my word for it, and not to go performing experiments behind my back, hm?”

“Of course not,” she said seriously, putting her hands in her back pockets. She let a beat pass before adding, “I don’t like ponytails on guys, anyway.” When he gave another quiet laugh, she went on, “I mean seriously, no offense to your past self, but it looks awful. Your brother really let you get away with that?”

That new warm, bright feeling was again trying to squeeze its way between his ribs to his heart, and if Emma kept that smile up, it might succeed. “Suppose I hadn’t grown into my dashing good looks yet. Lucky you.”

Her smile grew a little, and she aimed a light punch at his shoulder. “There he is.”

“What?”

“I dunno, you hadn’t flirted with me in like, four hours. I was starting to worry.”

He smiled at that, very aware of being happier than he had been in a long while. “What, did you miss it, love?” he asked, leaning in a bit closer.

“Mm… maybe.”

Well, while she was in a good mood: “Any chance of a demonstration of how much you missed it?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Nope,” she said, raising a hand to his cheek and gently pushing his face away. “Not that much.” She stepped back, leaving him to enjoy the impression of warmth left behind by her touch. “But I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Likewise,” he replied, recognizing she had been happier knowing they had a plan against Pan and a way off Neverland. “But thank you. For checking in.”

“Don’t mention it.” She drifted back the way she had come, finally saying, “My dad will be out in a bit to change watch, so… see you in a bit.”

He nodded back and watched her disappear in the foliage as she returned to camp. Smiling to himself, he raised his hand to graze the back of his knuckles where her hand had laid against his cheek. Damn. It was love, wasn’t it?

#csnlny #neverland new year #captain swan fic #captain swan #emma swan #killian jones #ouat #once upon a time #i write things sometimes #ouat fanfiction #lol my followers are gonna be so confused by this #this is gonna be out of NOWHERE for them #it's not star wars #it's not merlin #it's not supernatural #BAM it's ouat lol

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once-upon-a-pirate-ship · 3 years ago

Text

if you ever forget (that you love me)

...oops. I didn't really mean to write this. Oh well.

Short canon divergence from early 3B - approx. 2k words, rated G (there is some mild language, though)

When Emma takes that potion and gets her memories back, she has several realizations--including her feelings for Hook. This leads to them getting together earlier than in canon.

There's some angst, lots of tenderness, and much internal dialogue.

(Title based on the song with the same name by Isak Danielson)

Read on AO3

Tagged readers who requested especially from the CSMM discord:

@kmomof4 @caught-in-the-filter @teamhook @jrob64 @sotangledupinit

The first thing her memories brought her was pain.

The flashes behind her eyes were difficult to watch, moments of danger and fear and Henry unconscious on the floor, and words spoken in the Echo Cave—it wasn’t what we wanted—and bullshit claims that only resurfaced the brunt of her abandonment shit (I’ll never stop fighting for you, but he’d forgotten to start), and watching a small, beating heart in the hand of her son—and then there was the loss. The words murmured to her that somehow cut her deeper than anyone else’s, when he told her that not a day will go by I won’t think of you.

It came crashing back to her, the universe of emotions that lived within her in that single moment, because she’d lost her chance. He had been possibility, the promise of something that could almost be happiness and love, maybe, if she’d let herself think either of those terrifying words, but their time had run out. And no matter how many words she wished she could’ve spoken to have expressed any or all of that, all she’d been able to do was give him one little piece—good.

This particular memory of him became the catalyst that launched the others, the genuinely happy, borderline blissful moments she’d had since her son had knocked on her door.

It was Henry’s laughter and the warmth of David’s arms around her, Mary Margaret’s kind eyes and gentle words, the feeling she’d had with her mother when they’d shared a hot cocoa with cinnamon for the first time knowing who they were to each other, when it wasn’t just a shared beverage, it was history and family and belonging and something that she dared think of as home.

And then it was more, it was piercing blue eyes on her across beanstalks and hospital rooms and between swigs of rum, a smile of knowing, of understanding—how he’d never pushed her too far, how he’d figured out exactly which moments of solitude she needed to remain so and which ones she couldn’t stand to have remain so, and he’d saved them all in Neverland, saved her son, saved her. He’d let her lie to him when she’d promised a one-time thing. His words were the only ones in that damn cave that hadn’t eaten her alive—her own included.

Things clicked into place, then. A kiss, a swift kick, a slammed door.

But more than that, she realized how much had been missing since she’d crossed the town line.

How her laughter sounded hollow to her, sometimes. And Henry’s, like he couldn’t quite convince himself of it.

Why she’d frozen on a sidewalk last Christmas, her eyes stuck on the fairy tale display in a department store window, this absolutely horrifying feeling washing over her that she’d forgotten something so incredibly important.

Why she’d lingered in the alcohol section almost a year before, unable to get herself to walk out of that damn store without a bottle of rum. Why she’d sipped it every once in a while, when the chill of an evening alone became more than just weather-related, when even the sound of her son playing his video games in the next room wasn’t enough to drown out the sorrow.

And there’d been these flickers. When she’d gone to light a candle and could’ve sworn she smelled a campfire, a jungle. When she’d made lasagna and somehow didn’t mess it up, and she’d thought she’d heard a bell like one over a shop door. She’d caught herself hesitating a hundred times in the last two weeks, maybe more, as if a part of her needed to linger there, needed her to reach out and latch onto those things and recognize them for what they truly were.

The most disconcerting, however, was when her new (old) eyes turned on her fake life, giving her the answers to the questions she’d thought she’d answered months before.

She knew now that she didn’t love Walsh.

She’d tried. But even if he made her smile every now and then, and even if he sometimes told her things that made her feel like she could maybe, possibly believe in herself, her heart never fluttered like it should have. Like it already had, like it had started doing on that damn beanstalk. And it wasn’t love with him, either, not yet (probably), they hadn’t had the time, but in the months that she’d been dating Walsh, she could never feel a fraction of what she felt for Killian Jones.

And that scared the shit out of her. Naturally.

—

It was easier to face her pirate—the pirate, she corrected—after she was reminded of who she was. When the guilt of never loving Walsh was actually a relief, because he’d secretly been a flying monkey the whole time.

But her fears kept her mouth shut all that night, then all throughout their drive (she told herself it was because Henry was there, even if he slept most of the way), and then when they reached Storybrooke, she had to find out if her parents needed reminding or a memory booster, and—

Yeah, so it was easier for her to wait. Of course it was.

And then she found him one night in the shared living room of Granny’s, his flask in his hand though the cork was still firmly in place. His eyes were fixed on the flames that roared in the fireplace, his face neutral.

Until he turned at the sound of movement, his eyes catching hers, and he couldn’t disguise his delight at seeing her, not at first (he was always trying to respect her boundaries, always working to ensure that he didn’t make her uncomfortable).

“Shouldn’t you be asleep, Swan?” he asked, but nothing in his tone told her that he wished for her to be anywhere but with him.

She settled into the couch, an arm’s length from the chair he’d taken up. “Tried,” she said, “didn’t work.”

“Too many thoughts swirling around in that pretty head of yours?” he teased, but it was impossible for her to miss the curiosity, the concern in his gaze.

She sighed, considering whether or not she wanted to answer him. She held out her hand, and he passed her his flask at once. The rum was just as good as she remembered, and when she returned it to him, she offered him a hesitant smile while she watched him tuck it back into his coat.

“Drank a lot of rum in New York,” she told him, keeping her voice light.

His eyebrows shot up. “Did you really, Swan?”

She never could have lied to him, not again, not even if she wanted to. “I went to the grocery store about a year ago, probably the first time after the curse, but my amnesia brain didn’t measure time like that,” she rambled, pausing to clear her throat. “But I, um, I found the liquor aisle, not intending to get anything more than a bottle of wine but I…I couldn’t leave until I bought some rum. I didn’t understand why, but that, I believe, was the start of it. My taste for rum.”

There was a crease on his forehead when she dared to look over at him, and his lips were parted, not to speak, but in a silent question. He heard her words, understood their individual meanings, but they made no sense to him together, or in context.

“You made me a promise, right before I had to leave,” she murmured, “do you remember what it was?”

He drew back, surprise on his face and then just a small flash of indignation. “Of course I remember,” he replied. “And you should know, Swan, that I never break my promises.”

She held his gaze, and even though the words terrified her to say, she said them anyway. “I know.”

“Good,” he replied, and it almost fractured her thudding heart.

She tried to breathe, to fortify herself so she could muster enough bravery to tell him the rest. But then it wasn’t about her. Because he sat there in the firelight, nothing but openness and adoration and more, and all of it was for her, and he’d come back for her, and goddammit, he deserved to know.

“I couldn’t make the same promise,” she began. “I didn’t have a choice in that. But I guess what I’m trying to say is that even a curse wiping my memory wasn’t enough to stop me from thinking about you, too.”

His mouth fell open, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes that made it almost painful for her to look at them—god, it was doubt. She was sitting there, begging him to understand her tiny little hints, and he couldn’t imagine that she could possibly be saying exactly what she was saying.

She searched her mind for something else, any other piece that she could give him that wasn’t far too much and broaching territory of things she wasn’t ready to admit yet, and nothing seemed adequate, despite the overwhelming desire she had to make him understand what he wanted so desperately to be true but wouldn’t allow himself to believe.

Emma reached for his hand where it rested on the arm of his chair, taking it in her own before she could think better of it.

“Even when I couldn’t remember you, I still missed you,” she said firmly.

His palm flipped, his fingers lacing with hers while his eyes pleaded for…for something, almost like he was terrified that she wasn’t real and she would disappear if he even blinked.

“Swan,” he choked, and fears surfaced in his gaze, like speaking would destroy the illusion and send her running and leave him with nothing but the inescapable ache of solitude.

She hadn’t been ready, she really hadn’t been, but her heart tore in two at the sight of his misery, and she needed to be ready. He deserved for her to be ready.

He gripped her hand with such warring strength, as if holding on too tightly would make her evaporate, but not holding on tight enough would prove that she was only a figment of his imagination.

She shifted on the couch, folding one leg beneath her so she could face him, half-leaning over the arm. “I thought I loved Walsh, but then you gave me that memory potion, and I knew I was wrong,” she told him, fighting her desire to look away. “I knew I was wrong, because, to be entirely honest, I don’t know exactly what I feel for you. But I never felt that way about him. Not even close.”

His eyes were watering now, and she couldn’t tell if it was because he refused to blink or because she’d made him cry, but then a sound passed his lips, something like a dry sob that shattered her so completely, and she couldn’t stand it anymore.

She stood, squeezing his hand so tightly she was afraid it might hurt him, but she couldn’t have him thinking she was leaving. She knelt in front of him, blinking through blurry eyes to find his, and he just kept watching her like he was waiting for her to leave.

“Killian, I—”

She was cut off by his arms wrapping around her, pulling her against his body so forcefully but she wanted to hold him back so she did, and even though she ended up half-sitting in his lap, she didn’t care.

His head was buried in her shoulder, and she could feel the dampness of his tears against the fabric of her old t-shirt. “Tell me this isn’t a dream, Swan, please,” he begged, and although his voice was muffled, she could feel how raw it was, how fragile.

“It’s not a dream,” she assured him, and it hit her that she was here, in his arms, and the world hadn’t exploded and he needed her just as desperately as she needed him, so she let herself do what she’d been longing to do and—she stroked his hair.

He practically crumbled against her, his fingers clawing at her shoulder blade, imploring her to stay and never leave. She didn’t want to.

He found no other words to say, and she feared it was her fault, that she’d made him skittish, that he was terrified of confessing anything that would result in her immediate fleeing, but she couldn’t fix that now, so she held him until his tears ran dry and hers did, too, and when she left him, it wasn’t because she wanted to or felt like she needed to and she made sure he knew that it was only because of Henry that she couldn’t keep her arms locked securely around his body until the sun came up.

—

He said nothing when she saw him in the diner the following afternoon, and it wasn’t that she expected him to greet her with a kiss and innuendos about their shared evening, but she hated that he kept his eyes from lingering, that he held his body with such rigidity that she feared he might splinter.

Maybe he hadn’t heard the lie—hadn’t let himself hear the lie—when she’d said it was a one-time thing. And maybe he couldn’t believe that her confessions and her embrace the night before were anything but another one-time thing.

So she let Mary Margaret and David watch Henry for a minute, following Killian into the back hallway, catching his arm when he didn’t turn to face her.

“Swan,” he greeted, and the lightness in his expression, the amusement in his smile, none of it hid what was in his eyes.

His mask broke just a little when her brows furrowed, when she searched his gaze. “Something you needed, love?” he asked, and it was a defensive tactic.

But she didn’t drop his arm, and though he kept his body angled away from hers, she took a step towards him, not glancing away. “I meant what I said last night,” she told him. “And I don’t know what that means for us, but it definitely doesn’t mean that you need to avoid me.”

He hesitated, and she knew that if she hadn’t held onto his arm, he’d have reached up to scratch behind his ear. “I thought…”

“You thought it was another one-time thing,” she finished for him. “And I’m sorry that I wasn’t clear enough, and that I lied to you back then.”

His eyes widened, shock and amazement and something vaguely like pride because he knew it, but he couldn’t find anything to say to that, his mouth opening and closing before a word could pass his lips.

“I know we don’t exactly have time right now, let alone opportunity, with Henry and the missing memories and the next Big Bad, but—” she paused, letting her grip loosen, sliding down his arm until she caught his hand with hers. “But I want you to know that this is happening. And I refuse to run from it, so, yeah. I just wanted you to know,” she finished lamely. But the look on his face nearly convinced her that it was the greatest sentence ever spoken.

“Okay,” he said at last.

“Okay?”

“Aye.”

She pushed out a breath, letting the tension seep from her body. “Okay,” she repeated, and there was a smile on her lips when she said it.

“Swan?”

“Yeah?”

His lips twitched, and his gaze practically burned into her. “Perhaps you could clarify,” he said, “back in Neverland…it wasn’t a one-time thing?”

“Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

And he did.

And if her family noticed that her cheeks were flushed when she returned, they gave no indication. Nor did they mention the dishevelment of her hair, or even the glow that had been added to her smile.

She hadn’t been sure the night before, but now she was. She loved Killian Jones, Captain Hook, Scourge of the Seven Seas. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

#captain swan fanfiction #captain swan #ouat #once upon a time #cs #fanfiction #captain swan fanfic #ao3 #cs fanfic #captain hook #canon divergence #season 3b

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cosette141 · 3 years ago

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The Day that it Doesn't (OUAT fanfic)

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Pairing: Captain Swan

Author: cosette141

Words: 2516

Summary: “You and I. We understand each other. Look out for yourself and you never get hurt.” “Worked out quite well for me.” “Yeah, until the day that it doesn’t.” Today, Hook learns, as he steers his ship away from shore with a horrible empty feeling in his chest, is that day. He decides to once and for all give up his crusade in order to be a part of something, and takes a moment to hope that Milah understands. CS

Link to AO3

a/n: I wrote this with the sole desire to see Killian let go of Milah. Obviously learning about Bae had heavily influenced his decision to turn his ship around, but I really wanted to strictly focus on Hook letting go of his crusade against Gold, and let go of Milah. So, I guess read this like an AU as if Hook hadn’t learned that Neal was Bae/etc. yet.

"We're doing this. It might be stupid, it might be crazy, but we're doing this."

Hook opened his fingers, the magic bean still sitting safely in his palm.

And here, standing at the helm of his ship, the sea air shifting black locks of his hair over his forehead, salt and the scents of the ocean all around, he couldn't help but flash back to the last time he's held a magic bean.

He could still feel Milah in his arms.

"I love you."

Something has choked him, something had prevented him from saying it back to her in time. His mind had been racing, trying to find a way to get her heart out of the demon's hand.

But he was too late.

She had died, and his last words to her should have been what hers were to him.

And that mistake had haunted him for centuries.

He could still feel the moment he knew she was gone. Could still feel her weight fall into his arms with a heaviness that was so final, so cold.

He hadn't been able to walk on that side of the ship for years.

And still, whenever he did, he could swear a chill slipped down his spine, as if he was walking through a ghost.

Every single time.

For over two hundred years.

Hook let out a breath, staring at the bean in his hand.

"There's one thing I care more about than my revenge, and it's my life."

Emma Swan and this town might be able to gamble with their lives on a fool's errand, but he was not about to take that bet. He didn't survive two hundred years in Neverland just to die a fiery death in an attempt to save the evil Queen who didn't deserve mercy.

It was the rarest of all rare chances that this bean would have done what they wanted it to. To use it to send the trigger somewhere else, to save their town. There was no guarantee it would work.

That, at least, is what he's been telling himself, the entire way from the strange-looking tavern to the docks.

That, at least, is what he's been forcing himself to believe, every time he imagined the look on Emma Swan's face when she realized what he had done.

She must know by now.

She must.

He was surprised when she didn't check the pouch at the tavern.

She didn't trust him on the Beanstalk.

But today, she had.

He would be remiss if he said that her abandoning him still didn't sting.

He had, on their short journey together, seen something in her that he hadn't seen in anyone in his entire life.

He'd seen himself.

It had been like looking into a bloody mirror.

How someone, from an entirely different realm, could be so much like him, he had no idea.

Her leaving him, tricking him, besting him had worn horribly on his pride. He'd never willingly admit it aloud, but it wore on more than just vanity.

Though it sounded quite petulant to admit it, his bloody feelings had been hurt.

Someone he'd known for such a short while, someone who he'd bonded with, somehow, more than with anyone he's met aside from Milah, had blatantly screwed him over.

She did not, however, leave him to die.

The blasted giant did let him go, unharmed.

Yet, he tried to remind himself, he hadn't exactly shown himself to be a trustworthy ally. He'd traded his trust from Cora to Emma Swan in half a second. It was only fair, aside from carrying a very untrustworthy reputation, that she couldn't trust him. And, quite honestly, Hook couldn't exactly deny that if Cora had offered him more help in getting to and killing the Dark One, that he would have changed allies once again. Besides that fact, Emma was on a desperate mission to return to a child. Trusting a pirate was more than a risk; even he could admit to that.

And the fact that Emma Swan had befriended one of the most fearsome creatures alive, a bloody giant, was yet another curiosity.

She felt familiar, she was quite easy on the eyes and she was intriguing.

"You and I. We understand each other."

And even now, after all that's happened, all the things he's done with her as witness, she still looked at him as if she knew him somehow. She didn't look at him like he was a villain. She looked at him like he was misunderstood, written in a language no one else could translate except her.

She had been right on point with her words to him, earlier.

She understood him.

No one has cared for him since Milah.

But no one in his entire bloody life has understood him like Emma Swan.

And it's that feeling, the one he'd felt when Emma had bested him the first time.

It was a spark of color in a world of black and white.

That feeling that had arisen once again when she'd shown him concern after he'd been injured.

And again, not moments ago, when he truly saw the understanding in her gaze, when he knew she saw past his ruthless demeanor; she saw him.

That feeling that crept up from inside, somewhere deep in his gut, a warmth that spread, touching his chest.

"You can be a part of something, or you can do what you do best, and be alone."

That look in her eyes.

It wasn't just convincing him to give her the bean.

She meant it.

If he accepted, if he joined her, she'd give him the chance she didn't on the beanstalk.

And that feeling in him, the one that's crept up so many times surrounding her presence, it clicked.

And in a rare moment of panic, he immediately made his choice.

That feeling rose again, now, at the thought of her.

The realization that she was to die.

It built and built. Stronger now than ever before. More adamant.

He shoved it down.

Tried to cling onto the numbness he's felt for the past two centuries.

Hook closed his fingers over the bean in his palm, took a breath and made the decision before that bloody feeling could change his mind.

He steered away from shore.

He let the ocean's silence fill the air.

That feeling nagged at him.

Louder.

But he had to do this.

It was a chance that would likely never happen again.

That trigger, or whatever it was, would kill the entire town.

Including Rumplestiltskin.

His Crocodile would be dead.

Finally.

Milah will be avenged.

After all these years, she can finally rest in peace.

He felt himself smile faintly. His eyes fell to the spot of his ship, where she had been taken from him. "You will be avenged, my love. At long last," he whispered.

But something still felt wrong.

The Crocodile was to die, Milah was to be avenged, but…

If he did this…

Emma Swan was to die as well.

That feeling rose up in him again, with so much vigor it stole his breath.

He shut his eyes, trying to rid himself of it.

For Milah.

His eyes opened.

It wouldn't leave him.

He felt sick.

He could still remember the land of New York City, they called it. When he had thought he killed Rumplestiltskin.

He had told the Tamara woman he was satiated.

He had lied.

There was a cold emptiness that had followed.

It was nothing like he had dreamed.

It felt like…

Nothing.

There was no victory.

There was no joy.

There was simply emptiness.

He'd meant the words he'd said to Regina, when she had contemplated avenging her own mother's murder.

"It isn't a beginning. It's an ending."

It didn't bring them back.

Killing Rumplestiltskin wouldn't bring Milah back.

Hook's need for revenge all these years had been his only purpose. His only reason for living.

When he had believed the Crocodile was dead…

He'd never truly thought about what life would be after his mission was complete.

It felt like nothing.

Worse than the numbness that had strangled his chest for the past two hundred years.

Milah was not here to embrace him, to smile, to tell him he made her proud. To tell him she loved him. She was not here, and never will return.

He was simply alone.

In every sense of the word.

He ditched his crew when he allied with Cora.

He'd been chasing his damn Crocodile his entire life, spanning centuries.

To lead to a feeling of cold nothing?

Learning that the Crocodile was not dead, however…

Afrer the initial anger because why wouldn't the bloody imp just die? Hook had felt an overwhelming exhaustion.

He didn't want to keep chasing after the Crocodile.

He didn't want to find a new way to kill him.

And he was not going back to Neverland to buy himself more time to find another way.

He loved Milah, would always love Milah. But he can't go back to Neverland.

Not even for her.

Hook let out a tortured breath.

The shore was far in the distance now.

He opened his palm.

Stared at the bean.

He was so bloody tired.

And right here, in his palm, he could save himself and live the rest of his days with the knowledge that the Crocodile is dead.

But Emma Swan would be as well.

His eyes shut.

He had the luxury, now, to know what killing the Crocodile felt like.

That cold, numb emptiness.

The rest of his days would be just that.

Alone.

Empty.

And the thought of Emma Swan perishing, at his hand and hook…

His eyes opened.

They were drawn to the deck, where Milah had died.

He shut his eyes.

He knew what that feeling was, the feeling that rose inside him at every thought of Emma Swan.

It was just a feeling.

It was feelings.

He had feelings for her.

However faint they were.

And the realization came in that tavern, when he had seen the understanding in her eyes that matched her words and it spurred him into running.

Becuase he loved Milah.

Milah.

He had promised to love only her, to avenge her, and cherish her memory for the rest of his life.

It felt like his heart was betraying both him and Milah.

But to feel something for another woman, someone alive…

It felt…

It felt like he was alive for the first time in centuries. Like he had died when Milah had, and he felt revived. Emma Swan was apparently some savior and he couldn't deny that. This feeling she gives him…

It felt good.

Which only made his guilt burn hotter, and that sick feeling returned.

His eyes opened, a tortured look in the blue, as he stared at the deck where he lost his first love.

"You can be a part of something."

Hook shut his eyes for a long moment.

"Look out for yourself and you don't get hurt. Right?"

"Worked out quite well for me."

"Until the day that it doesn't."

How did she bloody know him?

The pain in her eyes was the pain he felt in his heart.

She had lost nearly as much, nearly more, than he has.

Hook let out a shuddering breath.

"Until the day that it doesn't."

Why did today feel like that day?

Hook released his crushing grip on the wheel with effort, as if his body was resisting his heart's attempt to change his mind.

But his fingers loosened.

He let go.

He felt himself walk away from the helm.

Hook walked slowly down the stairs, to the forbidden spot on the deck.

He hesitated before it.

He almost never stood here.

He could feel it.

The chill sweeping down his spine.

The feel of her lifeless body in his arms.

Taking a hollow breath, Hook knelt.

Touched the wood gently, seeing her clearly in his mind's eye, in her last moments.

His eyes stung.

"Milah," he whispered. His eyes shut. "Milah, my love," he managed, voice choked. "I—" He swallowed. Two hundred years worth of pain, of aged words carved out of his voice. "I promised I would avenge you. Bloody hell, if I do this, I can." His voice cracked. He took a breath. "Alas…" He lifted his head, looking back toward the shore. "If I keep my vow to you," he whispered, "If I…" His voice caught. "If I do this, I'm not sure I could… live with myself." A tear slipped down his cheek. That sick feeling returned. The guilt. And a horrible loneliness that he's felt for far too long. "Milah," he said brokenly, "I miss you."

The wind buffeted the sails gently, birds cawing above.

But she didn't reply, and neither did her ghost.

Hook drew a breath.

And he made his choice.

"Forgive me for failing you, my love," he said softly, heavily, to the deck, to her ghost, the one he walked through day after day after day. "Please forgive me." Another tear slipped down his cheek.

Suddenly, Emma's face slipped into his mind.

Her smile, after she had defeated the giant, after she found the compass and helped him out of the debris.

That feeling—those feelings—for her touched him once again. They felt warm. Milah's memory always left him feeling so cold.

Hook felt his hand holding the bean shake.

Another tear fell, striking the deck where Milah had gone.

"Please, forgive me," he whispered, he pleaded, another tear striking the wood. "I just… I don't want to be alone any longer," his voice cracked. "I can't."

The air was as silent as her ghost.

He bowed his head, brushing his thumb over the wood, where her hand had fallen in her death so many years ago.

"I will always love you," he whispered.

His eyes shut.

And suddenly, he felt the gust of a warm wind blow through him.

But looking up, none of the sails reacted.

He blinked, staring at the deck.

The chill that had been lingering along his spine had vanished.

A tender warmth touched him instead. Something that distinctly reminded him of Milah's fingers brushing across his skin, a touch he's very nearly forgotten.

He smiled, tears stinging his eyes. He touched the sensation over his cheek, shutting his eyes. "Milah," he said softly, smiling something tender and broken. A tear fell. "Thank you," he whispered, eyes burning, feeling warmth flood him, feeling a relief that would have brought him to his knees if he wasn't already. "Rest, my love," he said softly.

The feeling of her touch lingered for a moment, before it gently faded into the wind.

Hook opened his eyes, feeling like something that had been shattered within him suddenly began to heal.

He smiled.

And he stood.

Newfound vigor, newfound purpose, he rushed to the helm. He spun the wheel sharply, turning the ship around.

"You can be a part of something."

He smiled.

And he intended to do just that.

#captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #killian jones fanfic #killian jones fanfiction #emma swan #captain hook #ouat #ouat ff #cs fanfic #ouat fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #killian jones #once upon a time #milah #cosette141 ffn

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ilovemesomekillianjones · 4 years ago

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In the Still of the Night

Here is my contribution for the Captain Swan Neverland New Year event! You guys, I am so excited to be writing again!!!! Thank you @xhookswenchx for beta reading this baby for me. Kudos to the mods of @neverlandnewyear for thinking up and putting together this treasure that is Captain Swan in Neverland. Tag list at the end, please let me know if you ever want to be removed or added.

Summary: Set after Henry is safe (no Pan switch) but before the gang is able to leave Neverland. When Emma is woken in the still of the night, from dreams of a devilishly handsome pirate captain, she decides she needs a midnight swim to cool off. In which Hook and a daringly open Emma have a meeting of the mind, body, and soul.

Rated M 8K ao3 ffnet Story under the cut, promise

It was the middle of the night when Emma woke, a sweltering, sweaty mess. “Why is this island so fucking hot,” she muttered into the darkness. Having a lascivious dream about Hook had absolutely naught to do with her elevated temperature, it was undoubtedly this goddamn jungle. Now that Pan had been conquered, and Henry was safe, Emma found she was having an increasingly difficult time keeping the smoldering, blue-eyed pirate off of her mind. She needed to get back to Storybrooke, back to some semblance of normalcy... or whatever. She silently cursed Gold for not having found a way to get her father home safely yet.

Ripping the covers from her body, she got up from her bunk below Henry’s and checked on him. Seeing that he was sound asleep, she headed topside. The deck of the Jolly Roger was blessedly deserted. Emma leaned against the railing, looking toward the vast jungle that was Neverland and she shuddered despite the hot, humid air that surrounded her. The shudder wasn’t due to the jungle itself. Since they’d defeated Pan, Hook had shown the group many of the island’s hidden beauties. He had stories for every spot he showed them, some hilarious, some melancholy, some quite ordinary, and others downright terrifying. There were quaint trails, refreshing springs and ponds, fascinating wildlife and vibrant plant life. It was actually quite a dream destination when a maniacal man-boy wasn’t playing psycho.

No, it wasn’t the jungle causing that shudder. She couldn’t get that goddamn kiss off her mind. Emma bit her lip as she reminisced about the way his lips had caressed hers, the way his tongue had slipped into her mouth hungrily but also tenderly. A one-time thing, she’d told Hook. Now if she could just maintain that lie, because that’s what it had been. She really needed Gold to find a way to magic David’s health back so they could get off this god forsaken island already.

She decided that the time for sleep was past, she was wide awake now, with thoughts of that damn pirate. A midnight dip would be ideal, especially while everyone was asleep. Emma left the Jolly Roger and headed toward the secluded pond that Hook had shown them. Once they’d no longer had to worry about being attacked, they’d created a regular schedule for bathing, so everyone had their own time. Luckily, no one’s time was right now.

Traversing quietly through the jungle, Emma admired the beauty around her. The greenery was lush, the effulgent dew made it seem more alive than any plants she’d ever been around. The blossoms surrounding the path were some of the largest she’d ever seen - they were dazzling pinks and oranges. She wondered if she had missed all this in her haste, fatigue, and desperation while finding Henry, or if the jungle had only come to life since the man-child was no more.

She followed the trail Hook had shown them, until she came upon the pond that was shrouded below an overhang at the base of what Hook had referred to as Dead Man’s Peak. The name hadn’t initially inspired comfort in the group, but when David explained to them that the water at the top of the peak was what had cured him, their perspectives changed. Emma swore there must be some restorative properties here at the base because she always felt rejuvenated when emerging from the water.

Stripping as soon as she broke the tree line, she discarded her clothes beneath a tree along the sandy shoreline. Her flesh pebbled as it met the open air, and she felt a freeness as she walked to the water’s edge. She dipped her toes in tentatively, knowing the water would be agreeable as always. Emma was immersed thigh deep before diving down below the surface and swimming toward the middle.

The water sluiced around her body soothingly while she held her breath as long as she could, before breaking the surface. Emma pushed her hair back then ran her hands over her face before opening her eyes. She enjoyed this spot, a sandbar of sorts, deep enough to cover her body, shallow enough that she could still reach, and far enough from all surrounding shore should anyone happen upon her.

The silence that enveloped her was serene and she looked up at the star filled sky. A shooting star floated across the heavens, but just as Emma was about to make a wish, the water beside her opened up as something emerged. The scream that started to bubble up from deep within her, as a hundred thoughts filled her mind on what unimaginable Never-beast this could be, was cut off by a voice she was not expecting to hear.

“Evening Swan!”

“Jesus Christ, Hook!” Emma gasped. Thank god she was in shoulder deep water. “Wait, did you… were you watching when I… you know,” she asked while motioning toward her body.

“Did I what?” Hook asked, genuine confusion furrowing his brow.

“Did you see me undressing?”

“You wound me, Swan… I would never!”

“Oh, tonight you’re the gentleman?”

“I told you, I am always a gentleman,” he claimed in a rich tone as he took a step closer to her. “Spying on a lady as she undresses would be unthinkably bad form.”

“Then where the hell were you?”

“I was underwater.”

“For the whole time?” she asked disbelievingly.

“Aye. I’m a pirate, love, when you live a life on the water, it’s best you be able to hold your breath for longer than the average landlubber. Never know when you might find yourself keelhauled.”

“Landlubber,” Emma scoffed, “I can hold my breath just fine.”

“I’ve no doubt you can, just not as long as meself,” he smirked.

Emma narrowed her eyes at the challenge in his tone. What was it about this man that had her wanting to comply with his every whim? She’d held her breath for as long as she could when she dove into the water, if he’d been under from the time she’d stripped until he popped up to interrupt her wish, that had to be like two full minutes? No way, she thought, he must have come up for air while she was under.

“Bet I can,” she challenged back.

“Is that so?” Hook asked, crowding her a little more, eyebrow cocked in interest. “And just what are the terms of this bet?”

If ever asked under oath, Emma would swear his eyebrows spoke a language all their own. “If I win, I get the Captain’s quarters,” Emma replied, crossing her arms over her chest smugly - as if she’d already won.

“I told you before, Swan, you and the lad should have my quarters.”

“I don’t want it given to me, I want to take it from you.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “such a stubborn lass. And if I win?”

“You tell me,” Emma said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Hmmmm,” he hummed, as the tip of his tongue swept along his bottom lip. “How about…” he continued, tapping his pointer finger to his lips.

Emma leaned toward him with anticipation as he pondered the terms to set.

“I get to ask you any question I want.”

“Seriously?” Emma sputtered, head tilting to the side, it was rhetorical at best, not an actual question. “You’re taking this gentleman schtick a little over the top. I thought you’d want me to flash my tits or another kiss?”

“I told you, love, I am always a gentleman, and as such, I would never want to take a kiss from you in victory, I want it given to me, willingly. I want you to want it as much as I do.”

Emma blushed as he spoke, damn him for being a chivalrous pirate. “Whatever,” Emma muttered, “I’m winning this bet anyway.”

“So, we have an accord?” he questioned, holding out his hand for her to shake.

“Deal,” Emma said, shaking his hand. “How will we know no one cheated?”

“I do have a code, Swan,” Hook scoffed, “pillaging and plundering, yes; swashbuckling, yes; swindling beautiful maidens, never.” He held his hand over his heart as if he were making a pledge.

Emma smiled at the actual drama queen standing before her, laughing lightly, it felt good. “Okay, so how are we doing this thing?” Hook held up his hand like he was about to take an actual oath, and Emma was half inclined to high-five him, though she was sure that was not his intent.

“Take my hand then,” he prompted, nodding his head toward his hand. Once her fingers were laced with his, he explained that he would count to three and they’d both submerge to the bottom, first one up was the loser, and the winner would know, because the loser would release the winner’s hand to reach the surface for air.

On three they submerged, and Emma could not see a thing. Hook was inches from her, and the only indication was his hand in hers. Feeling the comfort of his grasp in the eerily dark abyss, she pondered over the fact that she’d interlocked their fingers, instead of just holding hands palm in palm. She really needed off this island, she couldn’t be falling for him. Life was too hard for a relationship. Or was it really too hard, the rarely heard from, softer side of Emma Swan’s mind butted in. It could be so easy, this voice told her.

When Hook had told her that he would win her heart without any trickery, Emma’s heart had beat a little stronger just for him, she’d wanted to pull him into her arms to make out right there. Alas, there had still been the issue of her beloved child to save.

Would it really be so bad to let Hook try to win her heart though? He truly was a gentleman, a pirate scoundrel sometimes too, but it was part of his charm. Plus, her lie detector said that everything he’d told her regarding how he felt about her, about what the kiss exposed, it was all true.

Emma’s mind wandered back to Storybrooke, to what it might be like to have someone who understood her, someone who was like her, to spend time with. The squeeze he gave her hand at that moment had her picturing what it might be like to walk through town with him, hand in hand. Was that even something she could still do, be that vulnerable, for the world to see her care for a man? She’d been on her own for so long, independent; free from any man who could hold her heart with the possibility of crushing it.

Suddenly she felt dizzy, head spinning and heart pounding loudly in her ears. Had she held her breath too long, or were her outlandish imaginings too much for her stoic heart? Releasing Hook’s hand, Emma rose to the surface and gulped in the air. Pushing water and hair from her face, she panted deeply. She wondered how long they’d been down there already as Hook continued his underwater mission. Leave it to him to not only win, but really show her up.

A full minute later, Emma began to worry. Unless she’d been down there an inordinately short amount of time, he’d been under for at least two and a half minutes. Was that even possible? Had he passed out in his endeavor to “best her”? She started to actually worry for his health when another thirty seconds passed.

“Goddammit Hook, where are you?” she muttered.

“Miss me, love?”

“Oh, goddammit!” she yelled as she flailed so hard, she was pretty sure she’d just flashed her breasts unwittingly. The bastard wasn’t even out of breath when he popped up right in front of her. “Stop doing that,” she laughed as she pushed his chest. “Why’d you stay down so long, you big showoff?”

“On the contrary, I could feel you thinking down there, the amount of body language just in your hand told me you were contemplating some things. I merely wished to give you enough time to escape, should this game have become too much for you.”

“Escape?” she scoffed.

“Now, now, Swan - we both know of your affinity to run,” he said lightly, no accusations or contempt in his voice.

“Says the pirate who sailed away when asked to be a part of something,” Emma retorted.

“I came back, didn’t I?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow. “You, on the other hand, left me to be eaten by a giant atop that beanstalk.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughed. “I made a deal with Anton to release you after ten hours, I just needed a head start, in case you…” Emma’s voice lowered to a whisper, not wanting to voice her early assumptions about his motives and intentions.

“In case I betrayed you,” Hook finished.

“Sorry,” she whispered, looking straight into his eyes, imploring him to believe the sincerity of her words. Although she’d had her reasons at the time, it didn’t make her feel less terrible now.

“Long forgiven, milady,” he whispered in turn. Then, in the next breath, he was back to the cocky pirate she knew. “Now, I do believe I won, and per our accord, you owe me the fee of one truth.”

“Congratulations,” Emma offered, extending her hand to shake, “you won, fair and square.” No trickery, she thought. Then she crossed her arms over her chest, which was still underwater, so it didn’t make her look menacing at all as she jutted out her chin and raised both eyebrows in a silent challenge to do his worst.

“Why thank you, Swan. Hmmm, what shall I ask you?” he spoke, as if pondering his many choices. “There are truly so many things I wish to learn about you, I want to know everything, really.”

Emma’s eyebrows lowered as a shy smile crept over her face. It was stupid, she knew, but having this man before her, admit that he wants to know everything about her made her feel… cherished, adored, wanted. It was a foreign feeling after so many years of being alone. “Well, you only get one free question,” she said, trying to deflect the saccharine sweet feelings he was stirring within her.

"Pity, that, but I do remember the terms of our agreement. I do have one question picked out that I simply must know the answer to, before I endeavor to learn more. Fair warning, I may not have an Emma Swan internal lie detector,” he said as he leaned in closer to her, “but as I told you before, you are a bit of an open book, so I’ll know if you’re twisting the truth.”

“I would never,” Emma objected dramatically, holding a hand over her heart as he had so often done when feigning injury to his pride.

“Good,” he replied, taking a step even closer. “Then tell me, love, when you said our kiss was a one time thing, did you mean it? And if you did mean it when you said it, do you feel the same now?”

His close proximity was making her feel a little less confident than the facade she was putting on, but Emma didn’t break the heady eye contact he’d made, a beautiful shade of blue, looking into her, reading her. And how was the kohl that rimmed his eyes unaffected by the water? She might have to pillage some of that from him, it put her realm’s cosmetics to shame. God he was gorgeous as the moonlight shined down on them, she’d never noticed the hint of red to the scruff along his sharp jawline. “That’s two questions,” she murmured breathily as she thought of nibbling along that jawline.

“Shall I rephrase?”

“Oh, the hell with it, I never meant it,” she confessed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her bare chest against his and kissing him soundly.

As their lips collided hungrily, over and over, Emma was pretty sure she heard Hook mumbling thanks to the gods. She felt a little of that same relief, as she finally admitted that denying herself this thing that she wanted was ridiculous now that everyone was safe. Running her fingers through his thick hair, she gave it a little tug, angling his head so she could deepen the kiss. The groan he elicited was sinful and it kind of made Emma want to rub herself all over him.

Instead she ran her other hand over his chest, deciding to take her time, she’d wanted to feel that chest hair since the first time she’d seen it proudly on display. It wasn’t quite what she expected since they were both wet and it was matted to his chest. She smirked when he jumped, his hand tightening involuntarily in her hair as she ran a thumb over his nipple.

“A little sensitive, Captain?” she teased, looking up at him through her long lashes.

“Aye,” Hook chuckled, “‘s been awhile.”

It’d been a long dry spell for her as well. And it’d been even longer since feeling any true emotion when with a man. It had merely been scratching an itch for so long that she was a little scared what this all meant. The tingling, unadulterated want she felt in every nerve of her body far outweighed the fear though. “Touch me,” she whispered as she wrapped both arms around his waist.

“Bloody Hell, you’ll be the death of me, woman,” he muttered as he kissed her once more. He wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her in close. Trailing a path from her mouth to her ear, he bit gently on her lobe, and it was his turn to smirk as a shiver ran through Emma’s entire body. “Would you be opposed to taking this back on land?”

“We just got clean, I don’t want sand in every crack and crevice,” she giggled while wrinkling her nose.

“Aye, that would be less than optimal,” Hook agreed, “though the place I have in mind won’t get your nether regions sandy.”

“What’s wrong with right here, right now?” Emma challenged. She was pulled up short when Hook’s cheeks went pink and he scratched behind his ear as he did so often when he was feeling slightly unsure of himself. Truth be told, Emma found it cute, although she’d never tell him that, she doubted the fearsome pirate captain wanted cute to be correlated to his reputation.

“It’s just, I’d rather…”

Brushing the hair from his forehead, Emma smoothed her thumb over the worry line that creased his brow. “What’s wrong?” she asked. When he made no attempt to answer, Emma decided to employ his own tactics against him. “Try something new, Hook. It’s called trust.”

Emma internally cheered as one of Hook’s mega watt smiles overtook his face. The smile that showed those adorable (another word she was sure he would not want associated with him) dimples, and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Touché lass,” he conceded, “I’d rather be able to have use of all my appendages.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, gazing very obviously in the direction of his most manly appendage. “Ummm, it felt like it was working just fine to me.”

“Christ, Swan,” he chuckled, “I assure you, everything is ready, willing, and able in that department. I’d like my hook.”

Emma’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she thought, not for the first time, about what that hook would feel like against her heated skin.

“It’s okay, love, if it repulses you, I can just wear the brace without the hook.”

Emma shook her head, a frown downturning her brows and her lips, “Stop-”

“But I assure you,” Hook continued without letting Emma speak, “if the hook repulses you, the wound will surely-”

Emma’s hand over his mouth was more effective in shutting him up. “Stop it,” she demanded, “right now.”

Hook was a little taken aback by being commanded by the fiery version of Emma, he’d seen her fiery side before, and he liked it, he liked every part of her. He wasn’t taken aback by her fire, rather he wasn’t used to being bossed around. He was the boss. But as he stood there, with her hand over his mouth, he realized he’d follow her orders any day.

“Do you think I’m unaware that you don’t have a left hand?”

Hook shook his head in the negative, since her hand was still covering his mouth.

“Do you think I’m so shallow as to be repulsed by your hook or your brace or your wound?”

Hook took longer to answer this time, contemplating what he’d said and what she was asking. He supposed his words may have left room for misinterpretation. Slowly shaking his head no again, Emma removed her hand from his mouth.

“Good,” she stated simply, reaching for his left wrist before he even realized she'd made a move.

His head spun when he felt Emma’s touch upon his scarred flesh and his knee-jerk reaction was to pull away from her grasp. He struggled to find the words through the haze. “It was not my intent to imply you are shallow, Emma. It is my own reticence.”

“Trust me,” she whispered as she took his left wrist again. Wrapping both of her hands around his forearm and blunt wrist. Emma repeated the words comfortingly as she placed the arm he was so ashamed of between her breasts and held it there, where he could feel her heart beating.

“Your hook, your brace, or just this,” she squeezed his wrist, “has no bearing on how I feel about you. I care about you, Hook.” Her voice sounded shaky, even in her own ears. “You came back for me, you helped save my son, you make me feel wanted, you make me feel good about being me.” Removing one hand from his damaged skin, Emma wrapped it around the back of his neck and pulled his forehead to hers before closing her eyes and continuing. “I’m not ready for this part, and I apologize, because that is my hang up.”

“Hang up?” he questions.

“A simpleton’s way of saying reticence,” she answers with a small smile before continuing. “I hate words, they make things real, and messy, and although I mean everything I’m saying, that’s all I can handle right now. Please just…” she inhaled sharply as she tried to articulate her plea to let this be enough.

“I understand,” he whispered, voice just as shaky as Emma’s. He placed his hand on her cheek, lovingly caressing the softness of her lower lip. “And I do trust you, love.” He pecked her lips once before continuing. “I know you don’t like words, that much was clear from the start,” he said with a knowing smile and another peck to her lips, “but I’d like to respond, if you’re amenable?”

Emma nodded her head, eyes still closed, still reeling from her own confessions.

Hook kissed her gently again before prodding her to open her eyes. “I want you to see the truth of my words.”

Emma inhaled deeply, then opened her eyes to look at him. She bit her lip, a nervous habit from her teen years, as she waited for his words.

“I want to be the one to bite this lip,” Hook growled, as he used his thumb to massage her lip from her teeth.

“Truth,” Emma giggled despite herself, nodding to let him know her lie detector was working.

Hook waggled his eyebrows and smirked at her, before resuming his more resolute demeanor. “I have never felt more naturally drawn to a woman than I do with you. Your fire and passion brought my dormant heart back to life, and for the first time in decades upon decades, I want to be a better version of myself, a version that has been long forgotten, the old Killian Jones who was an honorable man, with good intentions, and hope in his heart, not revenge.”

“You may have lost your way for a time, but you’re still an honorable man, Killian.”

“Gods above,” Hook murmured as he wrapped both arms around Emma and pulled her into nothing more than a loving embrace. He was in love with her, but now was not the time. Emma would undoubtedly run if any grand declarations were made. He hadn’t felt this vulnerable maybe ever and he longed to hear her call him by his given name again.

“Emma? Hook?! What the hell?”

Emma froze in Hook’s embrace as the familiar, and annoying, and currently very judgmental voice sounded from the shore.

“Bollocks,” Hook cursed. “How shall we handle this, darling?”

“Can we just pretend he’s not there,” she deadpanned, face still buried in her neck, trying to keep reality at bay.

“Somehow I doubt that will work, but you are The Savior, you could give it a go.”

Emma sighed deeply before turning around in Hook’s arms, her back to his chest, so she could face their interloper. She placed her hands over his hand and wrist where they were wrapped around her waist. It was still dark as she faced Neal, so hopefully he wouldn’t see the eyeroll she’d just given him when she saw this silhouette of his hands on his hips like some outraged father.

“Good morning, Neal,” she called to the shore cheerfully. “I must have lost track of time, I didn’t realize it was already your shift for bathing.”

“It’s not,” he muttered, “it’s still the middle- not the fucking point,” he interrupted himself. “It’s not your shift either, what the hell are you doing out here?”

As much as Emma wanted to tell Neal that she and Hook were doing exactly what he assumed they were doing, she abstained. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she snapped.

“It is my business,” he snarled back, “we’re supposed to be here for Henry.”

“Don’t you dare!” Emma started, voice rising with rightfully earned indignation. “We came here to save Henry who is now safe and sound aboard the Jolly, but the reason we are here is because your deranged fiancée dragged him through a portal to sacrifice him to a madman.”

“So you’re just going to throw away any chance of rekindling what we had, of being a family with Henry; so you can get laid by a dirty pirate.”

Emma pulled Hook’s arms around her tighter, keeping him anchored to her when she felt him start to pull away. She didn’t need these two getting into it again.

“Oi! I bathe quite frequently, mate,” Hook quipped. “I was doing so when Swan and I happened upon each other.”

“Shut up, Hook,” Neal retorted.

“The one good thing that came from us, was Henry, but our relationship is long over. There is nothing to rekindle,” Emma sighed. She didn’t want to be mean, but she needed Neal to understand that she wanted nothing to do with him romantically. And she was not going to be lectured by the man who’d already blown up her life once. “Maybe one day, you and I can be friends for Henry’s sake, but that is the most we will ever be.”

“Ems, you don’t mean that. You’re under his thrall, it’s not real.”

Emma completely ignored the bait, choosing instead to stop this exchange in its tracks. “Hook and I are kind of busy,” she said with a lighthearted tone, while turning back around to face Hook. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she called over her shoulder, ”If there’s nothing else, we’ll see you later.”

“You mark my words Emma, when he abandons you after taking what he wants, you’re going to look back and regret this moment.”

“He’s stuck around through more shit than you ever did,” she called back, looking straight into Hook’s eyes.

Properly dismissed, Neal stormed off, muttering curses the whole way.

Emma dropped her head to Hook’s chest, exhaling with relief. “That felt good,” she said.

“Well done, lass, though I’ve yet to see you fail, so I am not surprised Baelfire is no match for you. But perhaps we should make our way back as well,” Hook suggested. “I do believe he will be stirring the pot, come morning. You may want to be there to head off the storm.”

“I don’t care if he goes back to tell everyone, it’s not like it’s a lie, and at least this way, they will know we’re safe, and not missing. With any luck, we’ll be left alone for a bit,” she purred.

“Are you sure your parents will approve of you spending time with a dirty, one-handed pirate with a drinking problem?”

Emma’s head jerked up and she eyed him scrutinously. “First, you need to get Pan and Neal out of your head. Second, the only person who gets to decide who I spend my time with, or how I spend it, is me. And third, how do you know I don’t want you to be dirty,” she teased as she took command of his mouth with her own.

Not giving him a chance to think further, Emma quickly kissed him again. She slid her tongue past his lips, rolling it against Hook’s, who was quick to reciprocate. She wrapped her lips around his tongue and sucked on it, eliciting one of the sexiest noises she’d ever heard. It was half growling and half begging for more. The buoyancy helped him to easily lift her and she instinctively surrounded his body with her legs.

Hook broke the kiss, in favor of exploration. His hot mouth trailed down Emma’s neck, licking here and nibbling there, never too rough, he didn’t wish to mark her, at least not where it would be visible. He palmed one of her breasts with his hand while running his thumb over her already pebbled peak. “Gods you are perfect,” he murmured before taking her other breast in his mouth and alternating between gently suckling and the graze of his teeth.

Emma moaned softly in pleasure and torment as Hook worked her up, her clit throbbed and she longed to feel his hand or his mouth between her legs. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she pulled his head back and gazed into his eyes, want and desire evident in her pupils which were blown wide and the way her tongue licked salaciously over her bottom lip before she bit down on it.

She unwrapped her legs from around Hook’s torso, in favor of standing again. Sliding her hands down his back, she squeezed his ass cheeks before pressing her body against his. “I want you,” she whispered when she felt his hardness against her stomach. Emma reached between them to wrap her hand around his thick length.

“Swan,” Hook choked out, pulling her hand gently away from his overly eager cock. “I really don’t want this to be over before it starts.”

Emma smiled knowingly, the very thought of making him come early amping up her need. “Okay, you lead,” she agreed.

“Come with me.” Hook led her toward the far end of the pond, which was actually far larger than she’d realized. They rounded a large looming rock which cloaked the entrance to a small cave by the shore.

“You just know all the secret spots, don’t you?”

“I discovered many hiding spots over the years I spent on this cursed island,” Hook acknowledged. “I usually walk to this side of the water’s edge to deposit all my belongings before bathing. One can never be too safe with the keeping of his hook.” Extending his hand to Emma, he led her out of the water and into the shelter.

They entered far enough to have a little privacy, but not so far as to be pitched in blackness. Hook pulled her over to a natural, rock-formed shelf. “Do you want a towel, milady? Perhaps my shirt?”

“I want you,” Emma growled, yanking on his hand and pulling him flush against her body and attacking his mouth again.

“Mmmm, as you wish,” he uttered between ardent kisses.

Emma whined when he broke away from her again, “Hook!”

“Patience, darling,” he teased. Then he quickly grabbed his jacket and his towel, laying first the jacket down on the cave floor, followed by the towel. “So you don’t get sand in every crack and crevice,” he advised with a mock bow.

Emma laughed at his naked bow before tackling him to the makeshift bed and straddling his hips. She wove the fingers of her left hand with his right, and wrapped her other hand around his wrist before pinning them above his head.

She didn’t miss the way he jumped when she embraced his wrist, a fleeting look of helplessness crossing over his face. She kissed him softly, tenderly, wanting to calm his nerves about his perceived flaw. When she felt his body relax against hers, she started to trail kisses across the line of his jaw before veering back up to his ear. “Has anyone ever told you, you are beyond gorgeous?” she whispered before sucking his earlobe into her mouth.

“I tell myself this all the time, but it does sound much lovelier on your luscious lips.”

“These lips?” Emma asked, sitting up just slightly and running her tongue along her bottom lip.

“Aye, the very ones,” Hook struggled to get out of her hold, as he tried leaning up to taste her lips.

Emma kept a firm hold on him though, enjoying this little bit of control. She could feel his cock against her ass, hard for her, twitching each time she nibbled and sucked at his skin. She continued to trail kisses downward, along his neck, across his pecs. His hips thrusted upwards when she bit down on his nipple and flicked her tongue over the sensitive flesh. “Patience,” she mimicked his earlier command.

Hook’s melodramatic exhale made her giggle as she scooted further down his body, gently rubbing her wet core along his cock. “Bloody hell!” Hook cursed while deftly flipping them over.

“Don’t you want to see what else these luscious lips can do?” she asked with a wicked grin.

“Gods above, I do. But I swear you will unman me the moment you wrap your lips around me.”

Emma smirked at him, eyes alight with lust.

“You little minx, you like that idea don’t you?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, a confession really, despite the ambiguity of the answer. She’d already resumed stroking him.

“Fuck,” Hook hissed at her touch. He was torn between his ego needing to pleasure her first and his baser instincts demanding he let her do her worst.

Emma watched Hook, saw him struggle with the decision, his eyes squeezing shut when she ran her thumb over his tip. Without waiting for his answer, Emma rolled them back over and licked from his base to his tip before sucking the head of his cock into her mouth while continuing to pump him.

Her clit ached as she reveled in the wrecked expression on his face, Hook was watching her every move, lip pinned between his teeth as he struggled to hold out. She knew he was close when his hand balled into a white knuckled fist on his stomach and she gently cupped his balls to massage them. The sound that left his mouth was positively feral as he came hard, warm and wet in her mouth.

She savored the moment, he hadn’t lasted long, and she’d been the one to do that to him. But that was all she had, a fleeting moment before she was being rolled to her back.

Hook held her in his blunted arm and dove in for a kiss, not caring at all that his taste was still on her tongue. He smiled against her lips when he felt her spreading her legs beneath him. “Eager, are we?” he asked between kisses.

“Don’t tease,” she panted into his mouth.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Hook slowly caressed his hand down her neck, stopping to play with her breasts for just a moment before continuing down to where he knew she was desperate to be touched. He parted her lips with two fingers and slid his middle finger into the warm wetness waiting for him. “Gods, Swan, you’re soaked.” His cock was already coming back to life as he thought about sliding into her wet heat.

Emma’s eyes rolled shut as Hook massaged her clit with her slippery wetness and any response she could’ve made was forgotten. Her mouth parted with an involuntary whimper when he switched it up, suddenly, but oh so easily slipping two fingers deep inside her. She contracted around his fingers, then pushed down, welcoming the penetration.

Hook fucked her with his fingers, circling his thumb over her clit, while watching her cheeks flush pink and her breasts bounce as she rode his hand. Longing to taste her, he repositioned himself between her legs, chuckling at her whine of protest when he had to stop for a moment.

“Oh fuck,” she panted when he resumed loving her clit, this time with his tongue. He alternated between licks and flicks and sucking. Emma’s head spun dizzily, she’d experienced oral sex, but apparently she had never experienced mind blowing oral sex. She threaded both hands into his hair and tried desperately not to be too rough. “Oh my god, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

Hook chose that moment to thrust his fingers back inside her and Emma was gone, she came harder than she ever had, warm and tingly and wet as Hook continued to thrust his fingers into her and suck on her clit. She saw stars or dots or something behind her eyelids and there was a rush of waves nearby, or maybe that was just the adrenaline coursing in her ears. The little aftershocks pulsing and throbbing in her clit were heavenly and oh my god, that was fucking amazing, she thought.

“Get up here,” she purred, pulling on his hair.

“It seems someone was just as primed as I was,” Hook smirked as he slid back up the length of her body.

Emma silenced his smugness by wrapping her legs around waist and flipping him to his back. The rush of air that left Hook’s chest made her chuckle as she placed her hands on his cheeks and whispered to him between kisses. “Well, you’re very, very skilled,” she praised.

“You set the bar very high, love.”

Emma beamed at his compliment, her cheeks warming. She wasn’t sure what it was about this man that made her feel unlike she’d ever felt with another man. Like she was special and desired, it made her feel sexually free in a way she never had. Sitting astride Hook’s solid body, she caressed her hands along his chest, exploring his now dry chest hair, it was just as thick and glorious as she’d imagined.

Emma could see the scars littering his flesh and she’d felt more when they’d been in the water and her hands had explored the expanse of his back. She wondered how rough his life had been to have this many physical scars. Her heart constricted a bit at that thought, especially already knowing he had just as many emotional scars as she did. She was both taken aback and a little frightened when she realized she wanted to know so much more about Hook. Maybe it was time to stop running from good things, Emma thought, her mind once again weighing the pros and cons of a relationship. Her train of thought was lewdly interrupted by a thrust of Hook’s hips, his hardness tapping at her back.

“Ready so soon, pirate,” she said in a husky tone while rising up on her knees and guiding him to her core. She ran the tip of his cock through her wet folds, both of them moaning with unadulterated lust.

“Fuck yes,” he growled, thrusting his hips upward again.

Emma cried out as his tip slipped inside her, a wave of arousal pooling and her belly tightening with want. She slid down his generous length, slowly savoring the drag against her slippery walls. She planted both hands on his chest and stilled her movements when he was fully seated, adjusting to his size.

“You alright, love?” Hook asked, squeezing her hip gently while he circled his thumb over her hip bone.

She nodded her head and opened her eyes, which she didn’t realize she’d shut, to gaze down at the gorgeous man below her. “You feel good,” she praised, lifting her hips and sinking back down on to him. Emma set a languid pace, delighting in the sensation of fucking, the drag along her walls, angling herself so he hit that spot.

“That’s it, lass, take what you want,” Hook encouraged as Emma rode him; slowly at first, then building in pace as her cheeks flushed and a light sheen of sweat broke out across her forehead. He wished, not for the first time tonight, to be able to touch her with two hands. He encouraged her to touch her breasts as he changed course to play with her clit.

Emma’s thighs began to burn as she worked to bring them both to that sweet edge of release, and the delicious friction between them built higher and higher. She palmed her breasts, tweaking her nipples and watched as Hook thumbed her clit in time with her thrusts. His hooded eyes roamed her body, and he bit down on his lip as he watched his cock disappear inside her heat over and over. She liked watching him watch her and the small grunts he gave each time she impaled herself and ground against him were hot. Emma found herself at the edge of bliss again and she whimpered as Hook began thrusting up into her.

Hook was having a hard time controlling his ardor, he wanted to flip them and plunge deeply into her. She was a vision, flushed pink, sweaty, breasts bouncing as she rode him to the edge. And then he heard her...

“Come with me, Killian,” she panted.

...and he was undone. The plea in her tone as she said his name and the massage of her walls against his cock as she began to come, ended him. He came hard and hot with a cry of her name, filling her with his seed until it began to spill as she continued to ride him through both of their releases.

As euphoria traveled throughout her body, Emma slumped into Hook’s body. She’d never felt so gratified as her entire being thrummed with bliss. Hook turned them to their sides and kissed her fervently. Wrapping both her arms around him, Emma gave as good as she got, their tongues and lips engaging lovingly. She lost track of all time as they lay together, parting only when they needed breath. “That was-”

Hook covered her mouth much as she had covered his earlier. “Don’t,” he whispered with a pleading look in his eyes.

Emma wrapped her fingers around his palm and removed his hand, giggling quietly. “I didn’t mean it the first time, and I damn sure wouldn’t mean it this time,” she assured him, noting how his shoulders sagged in relief. “I was going to say that was amazing… brilliant,” she murmured into his ear.

Hook chuckled, remembering the time he’d said those words to her. “Aye, Swan, we still make quite the team.”

Emma could only smile at the seamless harmony that flowed between them. And she kissed him once more before snuggling into him.

As a sated exhaustion made itself known in her body, Emma rejoiced that it was still dark outside of the cave. A vigorous yawn and stretch wracked her body, and Killian chuckled lightly again.

“Did I wear you out?”

Emma laughed as the same yawn tore through Hook, no sooner had he spoken his teasing words. “I think we wore each other out,” she snickered.

“Aye lass, I believe you’re right. How about we get washed up and head back to the Jolly? I’ll give you the captain’s quarters, even though you lost.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Brag much?”

“What is the fun in winning a wager if I cannot gloat?”

“Such a pirate,” she muttered before rolling him to his back again. “How about we share the captain’s quarters?”

“Deal,” Hook accepted without hesitation.

A half hour later, they were standing in the cave, bathed, and mostly dressed, Hook had gone to get Emma’s clothes for her from the opposite shoreline.

“Shall we?” Hook asked, offering Emma his hand. He frowned when she made no attempt to move.

“I’d rather…” she started, a blush coloring her cheeks.

“Ah, I understand,” Hook said, quickly understanding. “Shall we head back in separate directions? Or perhaps, I’ll just stay here for a bit and come back later in the morning.”

Emma rolled her eyes again, this time with a bit of frustration, as she placed her hands on her hips. “That is not what I was going to say.”

Hook raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for her to explain.

“Has nothing I’ve said tonight gotten through to you? Or did that mind blowing sex make you forget?” She took his heavier than expected leather duster from where he had it draped over his arm and turned around to lay it out on the cave floor.

Turning to face Hook again, she cupped his face in both hands. “Let’s recap, I like how you make me feel, I’m not worried about everyone finding out, best oral ever, sensational sex, no running away. I fancy you, Killian.” Emma finished her statement with a gentle kiss.

The gobsmacked look on Hook’s face made her laugh out loud. “I was going to say I’d rather spend the rest of the night here with you. We already know everyone else will know we’re safe. Even if Neal doesn’t outright blab; if Mary Margaret and David start to worry, he won’t hesitate to spill what he knows.”

“You fancy me, love?”

Despite heavily stroking his ego by admitting he was the best she’d ever been with, it figured the part he’d pick up on was the closest she’d get to any kind of outright confession of feelings. Emma smacked her hand to her forehead. “Yes, Killian, I fancy you. Don’t get all cocky about it.”

“On my honor, I’ll not get cocky,” he promised before leaning in to kiss her, “as I quite fancy you as well. But you already know that.”

Laying down on his jacket, the two snuggled together, Emma in panties and Hook’s shirt and Hook in his birthday suit.

“You needed to get naked again to go to sleep?” Emma asked with a little sarcasm in her tone.

“I’ll have you know that style and comfort do not go hand in hand, Swan. Those leathers, though appealing to the eye, do not make for great sleep clothes. Besides, all pirate’s know the only way to sleep when there’s a lovely lass in his bed, is in the nude. You know… easy access.”

“Why am I not surprised by that, Killian?”

“I’ll never tire of hearing you call me that,” he answered.

“Killian,” she whispered.

“Aye, love?”

“Nothing, I just wanted you to hear me say it again.”

A boyish smile broke out over Killian’s face as he pulled her in tighter to his side. “Good night, Swan.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

The End

Tagging some lovely shipmates - please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged - or if you’re reading and want me to tag you.

@laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @hookedonapirate @wordsmith-storyweaver @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @wyntereyez @hooklineandswan @teamhook @let-it-raines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard @tiganasummertree@apromisednightcap @xemmaloveskillianx @elizabeethan @cocohook38 @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @timeless-love-story @girl-in-a-tiny-box @thesschesthair @galadriel26 @ultraluckycatnd @lifeinahole27 @therooksshiningknight @kday426 @djlbg @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @delightfully-difficult-pirate @thejollyswan @csalltheway @xarandomdreamx @vvbooklady1256 @withheartfulloflove @resident-of-storybrooke @mcakers @gingerchangeling @searchingwardrobes

#csnlny #cs fan fic #cs ff #captain swan #cs is my otp forever

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wistfulcynic · 4 years ago

Text

shelter from the storm

For the endlessly brilliant brainstormers @thesschesthair and @winterbythesea, a rainy interlude in Neverland and a very warm coat. (To Mandy in particular, I hope it brightens your day.)

summary: Neverland. An unexpected storm, a cave, a bottle of rum. Emma and Hook, alone together, one of them wearing his coat.

words: 2.1k rating: T tags: Neverland, stranded together, bedsharing, UST, the coat.

AO3

The rain came without warning.

Nothing more than the faintest breeze stirred the air before heavy drops were falling, hard and thick, in sheets that made it impossible to see much more than a foot or two ahead. Emma was drenched in a moment, her thin tank top moulding to her body and her hair plastered to her scalp. She shivered; the rain was cold and the sudden shift from steamy jungle to icy deluge came as a shock.

The next shock came when warmth enveloped her, heavy, leathery, rum-scented warmth. Hook’s coat, flung over her shoulders. It did nothing to impede the sharp drops pounding against her skull but it stopped her shivering and kept most of the rain off her, especially after Hook flipped up the collar to shield her face and tugged at the lapels to wrap the coat snugly around her.

Emma slipped her arms through the sleeves and took hold of the lapels herself, casting a glance up at Hook as she did. He was as drenched as she, more so now, with water running in rivulets down his face and concern in his blue eyes as he released the lapels, then frowned at the sky.

“We should find shelter,” he said. “There’s no telling how long this will last.”

He took her hand and she made no protest, using one of hers to hold the coat closed while the other curled around his fingers and held tight. His hand was warm despite the cold rain, large and slightly rough. Emma shivered again, and not from cold this time. She could still remember the feel of that hand in her hair, its rough skin catching on the soft strands... his thumb stroking across her cheek... the hitch in his breath... the look in his eyes…

Not the time, Emma, she reminded herself. Not now.

Possibly not ever.

He led her through the jungle, his stride sure and unfaltering in defiance of the blinding downpour. When they came to a copse of trees even denser than the rest he plunged into it with no hesitation, shoving the branches aside and tugging her forward, and when he let the branches go again their thick foliage muffled the deafening thrum of the rain and Emma felt herself relax.

They were in a cave, she realised. One not that different from Neal’s, if somewhat smaller and surprisingly snug, with a lone torch on the wall and no drawings. She felt Hook move behind her, felt a slight tug on the coat as he reached into its pocket and withdrew his piece of flint. With that and his hook he managed to light the torch after only a few tries, and Emma bit back a quip about how much easier it would have been to use the lighter except oh, yeah, he’d lost it in the Dark Hollow by being an asshole.

It was probably not the time for that either, she reflected. Not when they were stuck here together, trapped by a furious storm. Instead she watched as he stepped close to her again to slip the flint back in his pocket, watched the play of the soft torchlight across his features and the flex of muscle beneath his clinging shirt. She and Hook, alone in this small space, together, drenched to the skin. For who even knew how long. Emma swallowed hard and looked away.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“It’s a cave, Swan,” he replied, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. She rolled her eyes.

“I know that. But what cave? Who lived here?”

“No one.”

“Hook, there’s a torch on the wall and a bed over there. Someone lived here.” She turned back to him, took in his guarded expression and tense posture, and then she understood. “It was you, wasn’t it? This was your place.”

He gave a shrug. “I remained on my ship for most of my time in this land. But there were occasions when, yes, I stayed here. Stayed, not lived. It was… a haven of sorts. But never a home.”

Like Tinkerbell’s tree house, thought Emma. Like her mother’s hollow log. Like so many of the foster homes and alleyways and back seats of cars where she’d once spent her own nights. She nodded.

“Yeah. I get it.”

Once again that connection flashed between them, as it had on the beanstalk, after the Dark Hollow, before that kiss... Hook’s shoulders relaxed and his lips curled into a smile. A softer smile than she’d ever seen from him, open and earnest and with no hint of flirtation in it. A smile that dimpled his cheeks and crinkled the corners of his eyes in a way that should not be as attractive as it was. His voice was soft as well, and low, sending warmth tingling across her skin. “We might as well settle in,” he said. “Storms like this one have been known to last for days.”

Emma shook herself from her reverie. “Days!” she exclaimed.

“Aye. Not always, though. Let’s hope this is one of the shorter ones.”

“How long do the shorter ones last?”

“Hours. Like I said, settle in.”

He gestured to the mattress set against the back wall, atop a sort of platform made of stones and rough-hewn wooden boards. Emma hesitated for only a moment before striding over, prodding it experimentally with her finger, then gingerly sitting down. It was soft and springy, and when she shifted her weight it released a faint, dusty smell of hay.

Her boots were so wet that her toes within them made a squelching noise, so she pulled them off, followed by her socks. These she draped over the end of one of the boards, then curled up with her bare feet tucked beneath her and made herself as comfortable as she could, leaning against the wall and burrowing deep into the warmth of Hook’s coat.

She could sense his gaze on her, focused and intent, and when she glanced up the look in his eyes set her heartbeat racing and her brain scrambling to think of something—anything—to say that might distract them both from the reality of where they were, the intimacy of it, how little space there was and how long they might have to stay there, alone together.

“It smells really good,” she blurted, then immediately wanted to kick herself. “I mean, um, I haven’t been in a lot of caves but I guess I would have expected them to be, I don’t know, mustier? Does that make sense?”

Stop babbling, you idiot.

She had no idea how caves were supposed to smell and cared even less, but she’d die before she let Hook find out that her muddled brain had not actually meant the cave smelled good at all. The warm, spicy scent tickling her nose was the same one she remembered clinging to his skin during their kiss. It clung to his coat as well, of course, stronger now that the rain was no longer washing it away, and made her light-headed as she fought the urge to bury her face in the leather and just breathe.

Hook, fortunately, gave no indication that he noticed her discomfiture. “I expect it’s just the island,” he said. “Whatever keeps its inhabitants young also seems to hold other things in a sort of stasis. Despite all the rain there’s not actually much decay here.”

“Oh,” she said. “Wow. That’s... actually a bit creepy.”

“Neverland, love. Creepy is its byword. Although, now, I wonder...” His eyes lit with speculation and he strode across the small space to the wall opposite the bed where a small pile of rocks lay. She couldn’t see what he was doing but she could hear his muttered curses and the shifting of the rocks and then he said “Aha. Here it is.”

“Here what is?”

Hook turned to her with a triumphant grin. “Something to keep us warm,” he replied, holding up a bottle.

“Rum, I’m guessing,” snorted Emma.

“Naturally.” He smirked at her. “But also this.”

He crossed the cave again sat down next to her on the mattress, tucking the rum between his knees and handing her a small parcel wrapped in oilcloth. She unwrapped it and frowned at the contents.

“What is this? Beef jerky?”

“Is that what you call beef that’s been salted, smoked, and dried?”

“Um. I think so?”

“Then yes, this is beef jerky. I’ve always known it as boucan.”

“Huh.” Emma poked at the dark brown strips of meat. “How long has it been here?”

“Oh, a good forty years I’d reckon.” He grinned at her. “But that’s a mere blink of the eye in Neverland. It’s fine. Here, look.” He took a piece and bit into it. Emma watched him as he chewed, watched his jaw work and his throat flex as he swallowed, and felt her own throat go dry. “See?” he said. “It’s perfectly fine. Try some.”

Gingerly, she selected a piece and took a tiny bite. It was intensely smoky and very salty, but so good and she realised to her surprise that she was starving. Her stomach gave a loud, gurgling rumble and Hook laughed, the cords in his neck straining beneath skin still damp from the rain, illuminated by the torchlight’s glow. Emma stuffed the rest of the jerky into her mouth and concentrated on chewing it.

When she dared look at Hook again, he was watching her with another of his looks, this one soft and indulgent, the corners of his mouth quirked in a faint smile. Her belly clenched.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“About the boucan?”

“Oh. It’s, um, it’s good. Salty though.”

He picked up the rum bottle and pulled its cork out with his teeth. “Quench your thirst, love?” he asked.

Emma looked at the bottle, then the pirate, then the bottle again, listened to the pounding of the rain outside and the felt the equally intense pounding of her heart. She weighed it all in the balance, then threw her caution to the wind.

“Why the hell not?” she muttered, grabbed the rum, and drank.

—

When she awoke the next morning the rain had stopped. Emma vaguely registered the absence of the dull roar of rushing water and was grateful for its lack. Her head was throbbing and her mouth cotton-dry, and she wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep for another hundred years or so. She burrowed deeper into her pillow with a groan.

“Ahem.”

The sound of a very pointed throat-clearing penetrated her sluggish brain and the realisation that she was not alone had her eyes flying open. Only then did she realise that her head was resting not on a pillow at all but on Hook’s bare chest as they lay together on the narrow bed, she curled up on her side still swathed in his coat and his arm around her waist, fingers curled over her hip, holding her close.

Their clothes, she was relieved to note, were still on.

From the look on David’s face though, they may as well have been naked.

“What the hell is this?” her father seethed. Emma jolted backwards, scrambling out of Hook’s embrace and wrapping the coat more tightly around her. Behind David, she noted with dismay, stood Mary Margaret and Neal��she looking disappointed and he incredulous—with Tinkerbell bringing up the rear, smirking at Hook.

Hook sat up and ran his hand over his face. “Relax, Dave,” he said. “No need for the tone. We got caught in the rain, came here for shelter, drank some rum to keep warm, and fell asleep. I don’t think pistols at dawn or the business end of your sword will be required.”

“And that’s all?” demanded Neal. “You just slept?”

Hook’s eyes flashed dangerously but he held his temper. “That’s all,” he confirmed. “I may be a pirate but I am always a gentleman. Not that it’s really any of your concern. ”

Neal’s cheeks flushed red and opened his mouth to reply, but David spoke first. “Let’s get out of here, then,” he said. “Pan showed up this morning with a new message about Henry and we’ve got to act fast.”

Emma scrambled to her feet then realised they were still bare and sat down again to tug on her socks. “What was it?” she demanded. “What was the message?”

“Let’s get back to camp and we’ll show you,” said David grimly. Emma nodded and shoved on her boots as quickly as she could before following her father out of the cave. She didn’t look back.

It wasn’t until much, much later, after many reproachful looks from her mother and wounded ones from Neal, speculative ones from Tinkerbell and an amused one from Pan himself that she realised she was still wearing Hook’s coat.

—

NOW WITH AMAZING ART by @cocohook38

#cs fic #cs ff #canon compliant #captain swan #ouat neverland #neverland #3a #canon compliant missing scene #stranded together #sharing a bed #in the rain #that coat #hook's coat #shelter from the storm #profdanglaisstuff

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll Stay (Vulnerable)

Cannon divergent oneshot based in 3A when everyone is back from Neverland. CS-centric, and involves Emma coming to grips with her feelings for Hook much earlier. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! In this chapter, we are taking things back to season 3 and we are rewriting it. I know, I know, you’re all shocked. Me – a devoted follower of fluff and hope – is going to rewrite a storyline where Emma and Henry left everyone behind and forgot them? Yup. Absolutely. Would write this fic a hundred times in a hundred different ways if I could. In this divergent little drabble, we made it through Neverland and got rid of Pan without any more curses or nonsense. Everyone knows what could have happened, but they avoided it, and now Emma is grappling with the fact that something more than a ‘one-time thing’ is happening between her and Hook. Inspired by the song ‘Vulnerable’ by Selena Gomez.

The irony was not lost on Emma that sleep was eluding her.

After what felt like an eternity fighting to get Henry back from the clutches of Pan and from the brink of danger, they were finally home. They’d staved off another curse, circumvented another terrible twist that would have ripped them all apart once more, and, most importantly, her kid was safe, sleeping in his bed and on the road to healing from this terrible adventure.

Over the past week, Emma had barely closed her eyes. Leading them through Neverland and navigating the wickedness of Gold and his father was a constant struggle. The physical toil and the emotional pain had been profound. She was exhausted and weary, but still, sleep would not come.

Here in the loft, the air was quiet, and the mood was peaceful. The moonlight trickled through the glass pane of her window, and the curtains caught in the breeze filtering in from outside. The temperature was perfect, cool and refreshing, but warm under the covers. The bad guys had been beaten, Storybrooke was safe, and the calm seemed stable, at least enough to last through the night. But it didn’t matter. Despite her best efforts, Emma could not sleep. She’d tried everything, but none of it would work.

It’s never going to work, she said to herself dejectedly. Not until you face this.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” she muttered aloud, shutting down the part of her that wanted to work things out instead of always avoiding.

She heaved out a sigh of defeat and tossed the rumpled sheets off of her. Climbing out of bed and tiptoeing to the kitchen, Emma made sure to avoid all the noisiest parts of this apartment. She didn’t want to disturb Henry or her parents, but she couldn’t handle being cooped up in that bed. It was getting her nowhere. In fact, it was making things worse. Lying there in the dark, she was bombarded by memories and what ifs. It all was overwhelming, and enough to drive her mad.

Wordlessly she moved to the kitchen and found herself reaching for the ingredients needed for a calming cup of cocoa. Despite the lateness of the hour, she knew it would be a small token of comfort in a long, unrelenting night. The motions of preparing the sweat treat were soothing. This was a ritual she had grown accustomed to, and was mindless enough to lose herself in. But this late-night activity, which usually saw her through the worst of days, didn’t yield the desired effect. Her thoughts still wandered, circling back to a particular pirate who perplexed and provoked her.

I don’t understand his motives, she said to herself, knowing this was her cynicism taking the lead. Why is he still helping? Why take the risk? What is he after?

Why does he have to be ‘after’ anything? The reasonable part of her brain replied. Why can’t you just accept that he cares about you?

Because it can’t happen.

It already has. The kiss, in Neverland…

It was a one-time thing.

It doesn’t have to be.

It does.

It doesn’t.

It does.

You’re scared.

Of course, I’m scared! He’s Captain freaking Hook!

He’s just Killian.

“He’s not just anything,” Emma murmured as she mixed in the chocolate, watching the warmed milk turn to a rich, silky chestnut color. Here was the kernel of truth she was terrified to admit. To Emma, Hook wasn’t just a villain or a pirate. He was more, intricate and messy and moving and intriguing.

During their time in Neverland, Hook had awakened something in her. It started with the kiss, that sinful encounter that drove her to distraction, but also struck her heart, piercing armor she had been building up for years. Okay, maybe it started before that. There were plenty of heated glances, and barbed bits of repartee between them that almost felt like foreplay, but the kiss lit a fuse she didn’t realize existed. It was meant to be a power move, a strategic plan to shut him up, maybe the vent some of her frustrations out, but the consequences lingered, and they were ones that Emma never saw coming.

She could still taste him even now, the ghost of that embrace tracing touches on her skin. Pressed up against him, the roughness of leather and metal, the scrape of his beard, the taut lines of his body… She’d given into him in that moment and lingered in the pleasure. When they kissed, Emma allowed herself a minute just to feel and to live. For a fleeting blip of time, the world wasn’t crumbling around her. She was restored and she was hopeful, but it had to be just once. She wasn’t meant to want any more than that. She certainly shouldn’t still be thinking of it now, but here she was. And she was thinking of more too, thinking of the ways he’d risked himself, the ways he’d supported her, the way he’d saved her father. She acknowledged in the silence of her self-dialogue that she had grown to count on him, and that she felt drawn to him, even when his obvious role had come to an end. She should have been eager for him to go, now that the task of defeating Pan was over, but the thought of him leaving left an aching, empty feeling in her chest.

Over the past few days, Hook had luckily shown no real signs of setting outward. He was still sarcastic and cocky and cutting. He was practically gleeful every time he got to torment David, and his actions towards Neal and towards Gold were downright frosty still, but there was honor underneath it all and a respect he gave the others and this town that spoke to a more gentlemanlike nature. She had seen him when they located Henry, and observed a genuine relief when she was reunited with her son. She noticed the way he minded the others, helping far more than he hurt, and how he bit back the bullshit bad guy act when they just couldn’t take it. He could read a room, and he often did, though he hid behind the swagger and the accent. And more than once there was something that colored his gaze, swimming in the blue depths of his eyes. When he looked at her, he hid nothing, and let the weight of his affection flow between them. He may not say the words aloud, but he laid it all out there, showing a vulnerability she never imagined but desperately craved. He wanted her, and Emma… well Emma wanted -

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Emma jumped, her hand moving towards her chest and making contact with the speedy pacing of her heartbeat. Adrenaline spiked in her system, but she immediately relaxed when she saw it was only Mary Margaret. Emma worried for a moment that the conversations playing in her head may have been whispered out loud, but her mother (God that was still so weird to say), showed no awareness. Seeing as Mary Margaret was incapable of keeping secrets, Emma knew her own were safe. At least for now.

“No. You?”

“I wish,” Her mother said, reaching into the cupboard and coming out with cinnamon, bringing a small smile to Emma’s lips. “I never can after these escapades. But your father? Out like a light the moment the bad things pass. It’s almost like it never happened.”

“Lucky guy,” Emma joked, and her mother chuckled, a thoughtful expression coloring her face.

“We are all lucky tonight. It was almost so much worse.” Snow’s words had the lilt of unshed tears hanging on the end. Emma could see the mistiness in her mother’s eyes, and felt the weight of her worry. “We almost lost you again, Emma.”

“I know, but you didn’t,” Emma said, placing a hand on her mother’s shoulder. Snow placed her own hand over it and took a deep breath, nodding. She wiped two stray tears away quickly but collected herself.

“Everything that’s happened… well it’s put things in perspective for me.”

“Like what?”

“I was wrong, Emma. In Neverland, when I practically interrogated you about Hook.”

To say that this was unexpected was an understatement. Emma was shocked at the acknowledgement, even though she appreciated the words.

“It’s fine.”

“It isn’t,” her mother emphasized, and Emma stayed quiet. Snow was right after all. It wasn’t great. It had caused more pain in a series of painful events, but Emma planned to just move past it and leave the discomfort behind them. “I didn’t understand what you had been through. Even worse I jumped to my own conclusions. I was pushing you towards Neal, thinking Hook was the bad guy, but in the end, looking at the full picture, that’s not really the story, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” Emma agreed. “Honestly, I can’t really follow the story anymore. I feel…”

“Lost?” her mother asked. Emma nodded.

“Yeah. Crazy right? We leave Neverland, and somehow I’m more lost back home than I was there.”

“Maybe,” her mother mused, as Emma poured two glasses of cocoa. She handed them to Snow for added cinnamon, but she was curious as to her mother’s hesitation.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, are you really lost, Emma? Or are you scared of facing what it is that you want?”

The words were a swift punch to the gut, but Emma sustained them, taking a sip of her cocoa and braving up to respond honestly. “The second one. But it’s insane. How is it possible? A few weeks ago, I’d never even met this man. He’s a pirate – a villain from a story that I read as a kid. Things are moving so quickly, and yet their standing still. I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you trust him?”

“As much as I trust anyone,” she admitted, the truth coming out for the first time since meeting him.

“Do you care for him?”

Emma nodded, not daring to say that part just yet. Her mother’s eyes softened, a look of love despite the strangeness of this suitor.

“Does it have potential?”

“I don’t know,” Emma whispered, but the feeling in her chest that had been there for a while now was blooming something fierce. This may not be her gut, per se, but it was something adjacent, an instinct and an emotion screaming out that there was more than meets the eye here. This was different. This was special.

“If you think about the future, is he there?”

“I think I want him to be,” Emma said, knowing there wasn’t much thinking to be done. That was what she wanted, and now, she’d finally confessed it.

“Then you have your answer. It’s just a matter of facing it and doing what you need to do.”

Her mother’s observation hung between them and Emma realized Snow had immediate expectations. “You mean now? But it’s late.”

“So? He’s a pirate. I don’t know much about them, but I’ll hazard a guess that they don’t keep normal hours.”

“This is crazy.”

“Affairs of the heart usually are, Emma. You’ll recall I once bashed your father in the head with a rock, and yet the thought of going one more day without him by my side…” Emma’s pulse skipped a beat at the mention of her heart. Another sign that deep down she had known for quite a while what she wanted. “You’ll never sleep until it’s settled, honey. Believe me, I know. You take after your mother, just as I took after mine.”

Emma didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry at her mother’s joke, but she found herself hugging Snow close and thanking her. From there, things got a bit hazy. She was working off of adrenaline, moving to her room and changing out of her pajamas before heading into the Storybrooke night. It was just after midnight, not tremendously late, but by small town standards it was as quiet as quiet could get. Everything was closed now, the diner, the inn. Even the bar was locked up tight, and that was as late-night as Storybrooke ever got. There was no one around, just Emma and the pounding of her heart. Still, she kept moving, following the advice of her mother and the sense of what-if that had nagged at her all evening.

Soon enough she was at the docks, following the lamp light, and headed in the direction of the Jolly Roger. It wouldn’t be difficult to spot, as the only Enchanted Forest vessel in the harbor, but still Emma worried. What if he’d left in the dark of the night? What if he believed her when she said this didn’t matter? What if she was too late?

When the ship came into view, she exhaled a sigh of relief, but it was quiet. The lights were out. There were no signs of movement anywhere. And then she heard it. Singing, feint at first, but louder as she approached the boat. The voice was deep, but ruggedly refined. She knew it was Hook, but she’d never actually considered what he’d sound like in a song. His voice was beautiful and a little haunting, the seafaring shanty being one of heartache and loss. It was somber and serene, but despite its content, it was also a little bit hopeful. At least to Emma. Because if Killian was up signing instead of sleeping in his quarters after all they’d faced in the past few weeks, maybe that meant he was thinking thoughts like the ones that she’d been plagued with.

On their voyage to and from Neverland, Emma came to know this ship intimately, and the wooden planks called out to her. They were familiar and welcoming, two things she never believed she would ever say. It would be so easy to come aboard and just announce herself. But instinctively she knew it wasn’t okay to board this ship without permission. Insecurities crept in at the realization. She was intruding. This wasn’t right.

This was stupid, she reasoned to herself. I should have waited until morning. I should have –

“Swan?”

The voice she most wanted to hear played strange tricks on her now, sending a shiver of anticipation through her system and a tiny bit of terror as well. She looked to the deck but didn’t see him, then she realized the voice had sounded out from a higher locale. Her eyes climbed the great mast of the Jolly and there he was, perched atop the crow’s nest. With a coordination and grace reserved for the movies, he swung down from the great height with a rope from above. The action only tensed the hard lines of his muscles even more, and Emma took each movement in, unable to look away.

Hook was still dressed in a way she was used to seeing, but now he was missing his jacket and his vest. His hair was tousled, and his beard a touch darker, or perhaps that was a trick of the moonlight. She’d never seen him like this before. He was somehow even sexier than usual, and it overwhelmed her. He descended from the ship at a hurried clip, moving towards her with purpose and precision. He closed the distance between them, until they were mere inches away from one another. When he was near enough, his eyes searched her whole being for signs of trouble, and his hand came out to reach for hers in a show of comfort. She extended hers in kind, and her body came alive at the contact. Her breathing caught as her eyes met his cerulean gaze, brimming with intensity and earnestness.

“Emma, love, are you all right? Is it Henry? Has something happened?”

The worry in his tone was evident, and the honesty she felt flowing off of him broke the last fragments of her will power. She couldn’t take it anymore. She was in this, and it was damn well time that she act like it.

She practically leapt into his arms, pulling him down by the v of his somewhat unbuttoned shirt and kissing him as she’d wanted to ever since walking away back in Neverland. The instant delight that came was heady and addictive, and this time Emma knew that she could savor it. There was nothing looming on the horizon – nothing poised to stop them or intrude on this big moment – and for the first time in a long time, Emma felt free. Free to feel and free to want something only for herself.

Hook needed only the briefest moment to respond. He practically purred out his approval, the growl he let loose buzzing through her and setting her ablaze. His expert use of hand and hook left her shaking. He pulled her even closer, closing the remaining space between them, and enveloping her in every part of him. Emma stopped knowing where she ended and he began. God, this was perfect. Easily the best kiss she’d ever had. How could anything possibly feel this good? His hard body had her squirming in his grasp, seeking any semblance of friction and relief. She’d been carrying desire for this man for too long, but compartmentalizing and hiding it away. Now it flowed freely, surrounding her, engulfing her, and leaving her breathless.

She wasn’t the only one trying to soak in every moment. Hook was just as ravenous, nipping and teasing her with touches designed to seduce and to entrance. He was hot and fierce and alluring, the scent of rum and salt and sea air clinging to him. It felt dangerous and daunting, but also natural and filled with need. Like magnets flung towards impact, two opposites attracting and finding something more. Many parts of this were familiar, but then it changed, sparked fire, and blazed to something past her comprehension.

With the benefit of privacy and time, Hook took control and guided the kiss. He was dominant and demanding in ways Emma never allowed another man to be. It set her soul on fire, and tilted the world into a whole new point of view. This heated embrace stole every shred of sanity Emma had left, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Neverland was about her making a statement, and tonight was as well. But Hook would have his say this time, and he showed her so much more through luscious actions than anyone ever had with words. This kiss was a revelation, a seduction any siren would be proud of, and here she was, caught within the storm but finding that she loved it all the same.

Coming up for air was a struggle, mostly because now that she had done this, Emma didn’t want to let go. But after the fervor of first contact, they both knew that they had to talk about this. For Emma, it was time to fess up, and to confess that the fear of taking a chance was overwhelming, but that the fear of losing a chance at this was even more jarring.

“It’s difficult for a man to determine if he’s dreaming when a woman as lovely as you appears like this, Swan.” Killian uttered the words as his fingers traced along her jaw. His hook held her hip in place, the cool metal a source of strange comfort. Emma nuzzled in closer, leaning against his palm and breathing him in as her eyes closed. “But in all my years I’ve never had a dream that compares to you. So it must be real. Please, Gods above, let it be real.”

“It’s real,” she whispered, pressing another soft kiss on his lips. “We’re real. I’ve been scared as hell to say that, but I…”

“I understand, love. It’s wholly unexpected. And I’m not exactly the kind of man a woman like you deserves.”

“Don’t say that,” she pleaded, and the pain in his eyes sent a sharp sting through her heart. Obviously he didn’t see himself the way she saw him. But maybe with time, things would be more clear.

“It’s the truth, Swan.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Aye.”

“Do you want me?” He nodded immediately, his hold on her tightening, whether or not he realized it. Her lips curved up to a small smile at that, and she not so secretly loved how sure and certain he was in this.

“Yes.”

“Would you ever hurt me?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly, and the pain of her past surging up in darkened memories.

“I might, love, but Gods strike me down if I do, because it’s the last thing in the world I’d ever want.”

“And that’s how I know,” she whispered. Looking at him with new conviction, willing him to believe her. “That’s the difference with you, Killian. I see you, I see your heart, and I know you see me. Not the savior, not the sheriff, not the lost little girl or the woman with walls. You see me. Just me.”

“You’re all I see, Swan. Have been for some time.”

She didn’t know who started their next kiss, but she felt the frenzy of it all the same. It was just as magnificent as before, but this time sincerity simmered throughout as well. The understanding they were reaching made it all the better. Knowing they were both going to jump here gave her comfort, but there were still some words to say.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” she admitted, running her hand across his chest as their foreheads touched. She looked down to avoid an embarrassing exchange. Patiently he waited, but when she stayed stock still, he tilted back and brought up his hook. He gently nudged her chin back up, prompting her to see that there was nothing like judgment in his eyes.

‘Neither do I. But we’ll see it through. Together.”

“I’m not good at letting people in.”

This time he grinned, looking like a man who was up for the challenge of scaling her walls. She almost rolled her eyes until he took her hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss upon it. It was an intimate gesture that made her heart soar. Who was this man who could be so roughish and rough one moment and yet gentle and sweet the next?

“That makes two of us.”

“I’m going to fuck this up,” she affirmed, assured of the missteps she would make and wanting him to realize she was so much less than perfect.

Now he looked frustrated, and his voice ground out in a graveled, gruff tone. “Not possible.”

“How do you know?”

‘Because you’re you, Swan,” he murmured, pressing sweet kisses to her face, to her neck and jaw, then her lips once more. “You’re rare and remarkable and real. You can do anything you set your mind to, anything but push me away. I’m in this, Emma. Entirely and completely. It’s soon to admit that, but you deserve the truth, and you’ll always hear it from me.”

“I really want to trust you,” she whispered, clutching onto his shirt and letting this one last worry live between them.

“And someday you will. In the meantime, I can wait. I will wait. As long as it takes.” That was all it took. Peace finally claimed her, and something in her settled.

“Okay,” she murmured, leaning in to hug him and basking in his heat and the gentle thrumming of his heart.

“Okay,” he replied, a lilted whisper in her hair as he held her close.

They remained out there for a while more, but neither needed to say anything for them to realize what must come next. Emma needed to go home, and he would see her there, safe and sound. They walked together, down Main Street in the moonlight, hand in hand, with the closeness of lovers, and the poise of two similar souls seeking comfort in each other. No one was around to see them, but Emma knew they would very soon. She wasn’t going to hide this, and someday they’d walk in the light together, letting everyone know exactly where they stood.

When they were back by the loft, Emma stalled, not wanting this to end. She wished she could invite him up for a drink, a drink that would no doubt turn to more, but she couldn’t. Instead, they needed to say goodbye for now, but she found she wasn’t sure how.

Killian took the moment to pull her in, kissing her one last time, and saying again with actions what words could only half describe. This kiss was sweet but insistent, a reminder and a promise of all that he would give and all that they could have if they chose to be together. When they broke apart, Emma was certain in him and in herself. This was happening. This was right.

“Until tomorrow then, love,” he whispered, pressing one last kiss upon her cheek.

“Good night, Killian.”

His eyes lit up and he smiled at her use of his real name. She made a promise to herself that she would use it more often. He waited for her to go inside, and only when she’d done so did he finally walk away. Leaning against the wooden door, Emma sighed in relief and smiled.

This is the start of something good. Something true. Something… happy.

And with those final thoughts, Emma headed back to bed, and found that sleep came swiftly, bringing with it dreams she hoped would come to pass.

……………..

If I gave you every piece of me, I know that you could drop it Give you the chance, I know that you could take advantage once you got it If I open up my heart to you, I know that you could lock it Throw away the key and keep it there forever in your pocket

If I gave the opportunity to you, then would you blow it? If I was the greatest thing that happened to you, would you know it? If my love was like a flower, would you plant it, would you grow it? I might give you all my body, are you strong enough to hold it?

If I show you all my demons And we dive into the deep end Would we crash and burn like every time before? I would tell you all my secrets Wrap your arms around my weakness If the only other option's letting go

I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable

If I hand you my emotion, would you even want to take it? If I give you all my trust now, would you fumble it and break it? If I let you cross my finish line, then would you wanna make it? I think I'm ready, won't you come and flip the switch and activate it?

I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable

I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable, yeah

If I show you all my demons And we dive into the deep end Would we crash and burn like every time before? (I'll stay vulnerable) I would tell you all my secrets Wrap your arms around my weakness If the only other option's letting go

(I'll stay vulnerable, yeah)

Post-Note: So, what did you think? Honestly, I had no intentions of writing this chapter right now. I knew the song needed to be in the mixtape, as I love it, and it fits so well with this series of CS love stories, but I have a number of other fics I am working on now that need attending to. Nevertheless, here we are, and luckily, this has proved to be the perfect palate cleanse for my other writing. My multichapter stories will be back soon. I’ve already started writing, and in the meantime, we all get an added little romantic bonus. Hope you enjoyed this dose of fluff, thank you all for reading, and know that I’m wishing you safe, healthy, and well. xE.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186, Part 187, Part 188, Part 189, Part 190, Part 191, Part 192, Part 193, Part 194, Part 195, Part 196

#captain swan #captain swan fic #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs smut?#cannon divergent #cannon divergence #captain swan rewrite #emma swan #killian jones #ouat rewrite #cs oneshot #captain swan oneshot #the mixtape #cs mixtape #captain swan mixtape #i'll stay vulnerable

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ohmightydevviepuu · 4 years ago

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the last test and proof / part four

oh hey hai guess what we’re still here celebrating @profdanglaisstuff. A VERY MERRY UNBIRTHDAY, etc. ❤

@katie-dub and @thisonesatellite again deserve thanks for their insights, as ever. @shireness-says and the NO! CURSE! RENAISSANCE!!

part one | part two | part three | AO3

Things Emma and Hook Haven’t Talked About Yet:

1 - Neal 2 - The time she’d left him with a giant 3 - The time he’d left her in a cell 4 - Milah 5 - True. Love’s. Kiss.

The time he left her in a cell.

Okay, but.

Hook had left her. He’d left her, locked her in a cell and she could still hear the malice in his voice, the way it dripped from every letter, from every syllable. Emma closed her eyes and could hear it, the bite and the anger when he said, The time for that is done.

When Emma looked into his eyes and understood exactly what her mistake might cost her.

Just as I am done with you.

She rolled over, the sheet slipping away from her in the bed that wasn’t hers, sunlight streaming in through the open curtains, and waited. She waited for that feeling, that feeling in the pit of her stomach that always told her to run--but there was only the feeling she got when she thought she’d have to leave, like she was missing something. Home.

Emma got up from the bed and looked for her jeans on the floor, her jeans and her shirt and her underwear, and thought again about the qualities of a werewolf’s hearing because she was in one of the rooms at the B&B, the room that--apparently--Granny had given to Killian so he could “use the facilities” or whatever, like Emma even believed that.

Granny had a crush and Granny liked to look and Granny totally had a plan and they had played right into it which was fine. Great, even. Orgasm(s) and Feelings and she had kissed him and she hadn’t made out with someone like that since--ever, god, just lying there and feeling the other person against her as the kisses went from sweet to sexy and back again, her heart pounding as his eyelashes brushed against her cheeks and she felt the softness of his hair in her fingers.

Killian was gone but there was a note on the table with a little swan drawn at the top and the words i’ll return soon, please stay as long as you like and a little hook drawn underneath and next to the note was a cup of coffee mixed with exactly the right sugar-to-coffee ratio and a generous splash of milk. It was still hot.

Neal had never learned how she took her coffee.

Speak of the devil: Neal was in the diner, in a booth with their son and a plate of French fries between them. Emma watched them and couldn’t stop herself imagining the same scene playing out with Killian at the table, probably teaching Henry how to cheat at dice or poker or whatever games pirates played when they gambled. She couldn’t stop herself imagining another version of the scene, between Hook and Baelfire on the decks of the Jolly Roger where he’d apparently stayed for a time in Neverland.

Teaching him to fight with a cutlass that sat in his cabin some two hundred years later.

Neither of them ever talked about it, but Hook had taught Neal to sail and to play cards and to pick locks, never break in without a plan to break out and all of that; Hook had cared for him, maybe even loved him. Knew him well enough to decipher the drawings on the cave wall, port and starboard and a hook and an abandoned accounting of time when all hope was lost. Only that last one Killian knew the same way Emma knew, from painful personal experience. The look you get when you’ve been left alone.

They were--all of them--sentimental; Killian with the cutlass and Baelfire with his scrawled memories and Emma with the weight of an old keychain around her neck like an albatross.

They were, all of them, Lost Ones.

Emma slid into the booth next to Henry and grabbed a fry. (Wondered if Killian knew she preferred onion rings.) Met Neal’s look as it shifted from a smile to something less pleasant--yes, Neal, sex hair was a thing, too bad they so rarely got to do it in a real bed with so many orgasms; Emma smirked and raised her eyebrow.

Henry, smart kid that he was, excused himself to go to the counter and sit with Ruby, climbing over the divider in his haste to escape.

“Jesus, Em,” Neal muttered.

“Don’t be a dick, Neal,” Emma snapped.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine, how about I just break into your room and--”

“I was right about her.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Neal said.

“None of this is okay,” Emma said. “You showing up here acting like Henry’s father--”

“I am Henry’s father!”

“Do you even care at all about me, what it’s like for me having you here, the mess it’s making with Regina--”

“So the Evil Queen gets a say?”

“She’s his mother,” Emma said, exasperated. “He loves her.”

“And Hook? You don’t know what I know about him.”

“So tell me. Tell me what happened.”

Neal ran his hand through his hair and looked around and said, “Emma, he killed my mother.”

Emma’s response was immediate. “No, he didn’t.”

“As good as--he might as well have torn her heart out himself!”

“Seriously?”

“He wanted to kill my father,” Neal said. “He tore my family apart.”

“Neal.” Emma tipped her head to the side. “You know that’s not true. Your family--they were a disaster. They left you. Both of them. You told me that.”

“So that’s how it is now,” Neal said. “A good screw and you’re just--”

“Fuck you, Neal.”

“--is that what he told you, now you’re just making excuses for what he did, apologizing for him after--”

“Wait, what?”

“Come on, Emma, you know he tried to pull this with me the other day. He wanted to talk. About his regrets or some bullshit. You know I wished we could have been a family, Bae.” Neal rolled his eyes and suddenly Emma knew exactly what happened.

Not on the Jolly Roger. Only Neal and Killian would ever truly know that, but--in the cells.

And, well, maybe on the Jolly Roger. Because this--this was what Neal did: he lashed out, he pushed, he blamed everyone but himself. It’s what she did, too, and once upon a time it had been something they’d had in common, that fuck-the-world mentality.

And Killian--he’d pushed back. Let his anger overtake him, because that’s what he did, that’s how he coped, how he covered up his hurt and his pride and that’s what she’d seen in his eyes when he’d looked at her all just as I am done with you.

Disappointment.

And it was so easy, wasn’t it, to play down to expectations; Hook left her because she left him and now--

“Neal,” she said. “I can’t live in the past anymore.”

“You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”

“No. I’m not.” Emma shrugged. “The time for that--it’s done. You know that. I want to stop running.”

“You think Captain Hook is going to stay here, with you?”

She did. She believed.

The door opened and every head in the diner turned.

Not Emma’s. She didn’t look away from Neal, couldn’t, really, not before she said this: “No, Neal. I believe that Killian Jones is going to stay here. With me.”

And then she turned and the fry in her hand dropped onto the plate and her mouth fell open because Killlian-fucking-Jones had just walked into the diner like he’d stepped off of the pages of, like, GQ or something--in perfectly-fitted blue jeans and black boots and a red partially-unbuttoned Henley under a black vest and a black leather blazer.

A leather blazer.

And Emma didn’t miss the coat at all because--that view, it deserved to be on display. Wow. Did it ever. Granny was gonna break her neck, seriously.

Killian Jones walked in, not Captain Hook, and Tink trailed in behind him clutching a bag in her hand and looked around and saw Emma and winked and waved and gave her a smile, all, It’s good, right and fuck, yeah. It was. Killian turned back to Tink and followed the direction she was looking and saw her with Neal and Emma didn’t even think.

She left the French fry on its plate and stood up and walked straight over to him and this part would get easier, right? They’d figure out the routine and the comfort level but right now she just wanted to touch him, to let him know that she was there.

She understood.

She’d already known but now he was there in the clothes and she understood.

“Hello, beautiful,” she said and watched the smile blossom on his face.

Killian Jones was going to stay here. With her.

@optomisticgirl @spartanguard @kmomof4 @stahlop @carpedzem @karl0ta @captain-emmajones @mariakov81 @therealstartraveller776 @klynn-stormz @withaheartfulloflove @gingerchangeling @scientificapricot

#cs fic #3b divergence #no curse renaissance

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killiansprincss · 4 years ago

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Never Forget You ch.14

Season 6A Canon Divergence.

Emma is happy. Finally happy with her parents, son and boyfriend. But this happiness is taken away from her when the Evil Queen curses her and turns her into a toddler.

Heartbroken and angry, Killian and Henry run away to Neverland to wait for Emma to break her curse.

But when she does break it and comes looking for them 25 years later, she soon realises this Neverland is very different now it is no longer under Pans rule.

Will she be able to save Henry and Killian in time, or will this new ruler of Neverland keep them hostage forever?

Hi all here is the newest chapter in Neverland fic and it is angsty from here on out ;)

this fic means the world to me it brings me such joy writing it so if you liked it please let me know I’d love to hear what people think of it!

Link to AO3

“So I still don’t understand why she wants to keep the two of you?” Snow asks the next morning at Henry’s treehouse.

Killian and Henry look at one another, “You want to tell them the truth, Lad, or should I?”

Henry looks over at his family, “It’s my blood that has allowed us to stay for so long, I’ll tell them.”

“Blood? Excuse me?” Emma asks ready to murder the fairy.

“It’s okay love. Listen.” Killian says putting his hand on her back. It felt like normal again, with his hand finding the spot on her back that always managed to calm her. David and Snow were glad to see them all working together again.

“Gold told us that because I still have the heart of the truest believer, a few drops of my blood would restore the youthfulness of this place. So when we came here, I gave a few drops, but it needed more. I sorta passed out because a voice was telling me it needed more blood.” Henry explains, but seeing the look on his mother's face, he then quickly adds, “But I was totally fine, Killian saved me before it was too late. But now I think our time is running out, if I don’t give this Island more of my blood then the fairies can’t stay here and the magic will be gone.”

“Not too dissimilar from Pan then.” David comments. “So how do we defeat her?”

“I have a theory I’ve been sitting on for a while, but it’s dangerous, and I don’t want a repeat of History.” Killian says gesturing towards David.

“No. No. No.” Snow yells. “I almost lost my husband once, we can’t risk it.”

“It might be the only way.” David tells his wife. “Do you want to get off this Island as a family?”

“Okay someone fill me in please. Unless you forgot, I was not born when this happened!” Neal interrupts.

“Dreamshade.” Emma tells her brother. “It’s Neverland's most deadly poison. Dad got infected last time and almost died.” She turns back to Killian, “But the water saves you as long as you stay on the Island, so how does that help us?”

“Wait hold on-Dad got poisoned? And almost died?” Neal suddenly realises there is so much about his family that he didn’t know about.

“I have a concentrated dose on my ship that I’ve been working on. In theory, even if she does drink the water, she can’t leave, she cannot try and stop us.” Killian explains.

“A concentrated dose like the one you gave Gold in New York?” Emma asks, smiling fondly at the memory.

“Aye. Except, a much stronger dose. Hopefully to a fairy, the dose will reach her heart much faster than it did the Dark One.” He looks over to David and Snow. “I’m fully aware that it could go wrong and I don’t want to put you in any danger.”

“We’re aware of the danger, but it’s nothing we haven’t faced before. We can handle a fairy.” David says confidently.

“With all due respect Gramps, these fairies aren’t like blue or any of the other fairies in the Enchanted Forest or Storybrooke.” Henry explains, worrying about their newfound confidence. “In Neverland they play by different rules, they use dark magic, darker magic than mom used as a dark one.

_________

Cecelia was angry.

She didn’t like visitors. Especially if those visitors were the ones trying to take away the magic that kept her alive in her home.

She needed a way to stop her new visitors, especially the blonde who was taking the pirate away.

Normally she would spend her nights in Pixie Hollow with her sisters, but she had a feeling the blonde wasn’t going away. At the end of the night, she flew over to the Lost Ones clearing and what did she see? The blonde with Hook. This could not happen. She needed a plan to separate the two of them, get the blonde back to wherever she was headed, and keep Hook and the boy here.

—

Pan was a nightmare. He was ruining her Island, though he called it ‘his Island’. He had been here a hundred years and already the Island had changed, the pixie dust was running out, in another hundred years or so the Island would likely die. Pan was apparently searching for a boy that would save the Island, but Cecelia didn’t buy into it-prophecies are 99% of the time wrong, if this boy ever did show up she wonders if he would save the Island.

Thankfully Pan was not able to enter her safe haven. And neither could Tinkerbell since her wings and magic were gone. She could easily avoid her, and if she did see her again, what could the little green fairy do anyway she was powerless. But it did affect her access to fairy dust, he used most of it on his pack of Lost Boys who were typically using it to fight with real weapons, or use it to battle the Pirates that were now stuck on this Island.

Cecelia decided she was sick of hiding in Pixie Hollow, she wanted to see what Pan had done to her home, and see if she could stop it. That’s when she saw him for the very first time. The Pirate. With a Hook for a hand. He was dressed in all leather, a red vest with a large black leather coat and leather pants. He had scruffy black hair and eyes as blue as the sea in Neverland cove.

She transformed into human size so she could follow him. He was with another pirate, this one short and stocky, blue and white striped shirt and a red hat. Not nearly as gorgeous as the man with the silver Hook. She tried to understand what they were saying, something about a weapon, a dagger.

“The dagger is the only weapon that can defeat him. If I can get my hand on it I can skin myself a crocodile at last. I just need a way off this blasted Island.” The one with the Hook said, he sounded angry, whatever this crocodile was, was sure to be a force to be reckoned with.

“Even if Pan gives us a way off this Island, how do you plan on getting the dagger? Baelfire said-“ the shorter man begins to say before the Hooked pirate cuts him off.

“Don’t say his name.” Whoever this Baelfire was, he clearly made a lasting impact on the Pirates lives, the way he sounded upset by the thought of him.

“Sorry Captain. But say we get back to the Enchanted Forest, how do you plan on getting the dagger if he has it on his possession?” Ahh it made sense now, the Hooked Pirate was a Captain, the way the smaller one almost quaked with fear when speaking to him.

“I have a plan.”

One moment Cecelia is walking a fair few paces behind the two pirates, hiding in the darkness so they don’t see but still within earshot, and the next moment the leather clad Pirate had a dagger to her throat and her back against the nearest tree.

“Who are you and why are you following me?” The Pirate asks. It was the leather clad Hooked pirate, the smaller one had scurried ahead leaving just the two of them in the hot Neverland Jungle.

Cecelia laughs as she clicks her fingers and the dagger against her throat disappears and reappears in her own hand.

“A fairy.” The Pirate states, not asks, as he takes a step away from her.

“You know of my kind?” Cecelia asks him with a seductive smile.

“I’m not fond of fairies. Especially the ones I’ve met on this Island.” The Pirate sneers.

“Let me guess Tinkerbell?” Cecelia asks, she assumed Tink was the only fairy who would run into a pirate, but she couldn’t be sure, she needed to protect herself in case there was someone working for Pan who would report her.

The Captain laughs in a husky tone, “not a fan of her either I take it?”

Cecelia shrugs, “she’s not my friend, but she may see me as an enemy.”

“Whatever did you do to the poor girl?” The captain asks. He was very handsome, Cecelia had encountered many pirates in her life, yet none quite like this one.

“Well like Pirates I’m sure, a fairy never reveals her secrets.” Cecelia was flirting, the Captain was sure of it, so he decided to flirt back.

“Hmm secrets are a delicate thing. Is your name a secret too, or do I get the pleasure of knowing it?”

“Cecelia.” She replies with a glint in her eye. “And yours? I can’t just call you Captain now can I? Or would you like that?” She whispers the last part into his ear.

“Hook.” He tells her smirking as he uses his Hook to bring her closer.

“Clever.” She muses. “You’re a pirate, I assume you have a ship.”

“The Jolly Roger, she’s the most powerful in all the realms.”

Cecelia fondles with his Hook for a moment, “Would you like some company?”

Hook grins. “Are you offering?”

________

Her talk with the blonde Hook was in love with, didn't go down well as well as she had hoped. Cecelia threatened her, told her to leave and she didn’t. She was a stubborn stupid human, but she needed to take it to the next level.

Show her what Hook and her had, how it was nothing compared to what the blonde experienced with him in her land. She couldn’t kill the blonde right away, not with her whole family here. No, she needed to make her leave and she will get Verena to help kill them all if necessary.

____

The next two nights Cecelia watches the blonde with the Lost Ones. She sees how Hook looks at her, and how she looks at him. It makes her sick. The Lost Ones even look happy, they’re never happy. What was it about this girl that made her so special? Why of all the women, this plain girl was the apple of her Captains eye.

“You know you kissed me for the very first time right around here.” The Captain tells his blonde. She listens in, to see what she can find out, and what she can use against them.

“I remember. You were annoying me, I thought I would just kiss you to get you to shut up!”

“And you realised you’d made a huge mistake as you fell in love with me?” Cecelia couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not, their relationship was still a mystery.

The blonde hits him playfully, “you’re such an ass. If you recall your confession in the Echo Caves, you were the one you realised you couldn’t live without me.”

“Now, now Swan whose rewriting history. I am amazed that you still chose me, you love me after all I’ve done.”

The blonde runs her fingers through his hair, “hey. Stop. We talked about this, you’re not that man anymore, I fell in love with you because you chose to change, you said you wanted to be a better man and that’s exactly what you are. I don’t care what you did on this Island while I was cursed, it doesn’t matter, you’re still the man I fell in love with who risked everything for me, who is selfless and chooses to do the right thing.”

Cassandra turns away as they start to kiss, she doesn't need to see that. So, the Captain has insecurities, that she can take advantage of.

The Echo Caves.

Cass hadn’t heard of those in centuries. She knew Pan liked to use them to trap his unwelcome visitors, but she hadn’t known her Captain was a victim.

They were used in the olden times of Neverland to reveal the darkest secrets of fairies who were going bad and had to reveal the truths of their actions, but Pan ended up using it as a trap and to cause a rift between friends. And that’s exactly what Cecelia was going to plan. She would cause a rift by making them reveal their darkest secrets, and the blonde would go back home.

“Verena! Verena! Wake up!” Back in Pixie Hollow she decides to let her sister know of her plan, and how she can help her.

“The Echo Caves? Are you serious Cecelia?” Verena had heard the stories of the caves, how fairies were forced to reveal their darkest secrets and it was never pretty.

“Whose side are you on?” Cecelia was suddenly starting to doubt her sister, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Yours obviously! But is it safe?”

“I heard the Pirate talking to the blonde, they went through it before when Pan was still in power. If it didn’t break them before, this time it will.” Cecelia feels confident, Hook had been here for 25 years all alone, his desires had clearly changed.

“So what’s the plan?”

_____

On the fifth night of watching the Pirate and his blonde, Cecelia decides this is the time to intervene. She’s sick of seeing Hook, a fearless and deadly Pirate turned into a “hero” by his lover.

The Lost Ones are finishing up, slowly disappearing back to their beds. Hook luckily is still in conversation with the young boy, the blonde however had finished talking to her lost girl, she was all alone.

Shrinking down to fairy size, she flies into the Lost Ones clearing, and freezes Hook and Henry before returning to human size.

“Cecelia.”

Cecelia smiles at the blonde, “the one and only.”

“What do you want? I already told you, I am not leaving this Island alone.” She was brave. But bravery almost meant stupidity.

“You and Hook just look so happy together. But I’m afraid he’s been keeping secrets from you.” She says, in a sweet but also malicious tone.

“What secrets?” Emma was convicted this fairy was just trying to mess with her head, Killian had been honest the past few days since they reconciled, no way would he be keeping secrets.

“I trust you’re familiar with memory magic?” Cecelia asks as a dream catcher appears in her hands.

Emma nods, all too familiar with dream catcher magic.

She watches as Cecelia makes the dream catcher glow as scenes of her in Neverland start to play out.

“I really don’t need to watch your life story.” Emma says rolling her eyes. But then.

Killian. She sees Killian in those memories. Well, he was in Neverland for 300 years and their paths were surely to cross. The dream catcher doesn’t have any sound, but she doesn’t need sound for what she sees next.

It’s Killian and Cecelia. Together. Lips on one another, bodies pressed together and legs tangled up.

Emma feels like she could vomit.

“You’re lying. This is, this isn’t true.” She manages to say, thoughts whirling around in her head.

Cecelia smirks. “You’re familiar with memory magic, you know how it works. I couldn’t tamper with it even if I wanted to. I guess Hook hasn’t been as honest with you as you thought, such a shame.”

Emma stands there for a few moments, resisting the urge to bring up everything in her stomach. Cecelia just flies away looking satisfied with herself.

“Everything alright love?” Killian appears a few minutes later, completely unaware of the situation.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” Emma feels betrayed, how could he do that to her?

“I’m not sure I understand love.” He says, giving her a puzzled look, “are you feeling okay? Want to take a sail on the Jolly, clear your mind a bit?”

“The Jolly? Where you’ve been fucking Cecelia? I’m good thanks.” She spats.

Killian is lost for words, “Emma what the hell are you talking about?”

Glaring at him, she tells him of Cecelia’s visit to her, and the memories she saw of the two of them.

“Emma, please understand. That was a long time ago. It-“

“Oh so you’re not denying it happened?” She cuts him off, how dare he.

“I would never lie to you Emma. But whatever she showed you, happened a long time ago, long before I met you.” This was all part of Cecelia's plan to drive them apart, Killian was sick of her tricks.

“Just because I was cursed doesn’t mean I’m stupid. How am I meant to believe it was before you met me?”

Killian takes a step toward her, to take her hand but Emma snatches away. “I can’t prove it, but you’ve gotta trust me.”

“I’ve been cursed for 25 fucking years, Hook. That doesn’t give you an excuse to fuck the first woman you see just because I’m not around.” Her voice was getting louder the angrier she was getting.

“Emma I love you. Don’t act innocent though, like you said you were cursed for 25 years, you’re telling me you didn’t jump into bed with a man that isn’t me?” Killian was now just as angry, sure it had been 25 years but he expected better of her.

Emma doesn’t answer his question.

“I thought you said you saw me in your dreams.” Killian says tremulously. “That you were always seeing me. Was that all a lie to get me to go back with you?”

“No! Of course not! I did see you in my dreams, but that’s the thing you were a dream. I had no idea who you were. But don’t change the subject, I was cursed I could sleep with as many men who weren’t you and it would be okay. You on the other hand, slept with the fairy while you were waiting for me. You clearly don’t love me, so I think If we defeat Cecelia, I’m taking Henry and my family back with me, you fsnnstau here I really don’t care.” Emma’s voice was wobbly she felt like the was about to burst into tears.

“Emma. I do love you, whatever she’s shown you is a lie. I never touched her while you were here, I would have never do that to you.”

He tries to call out after her, but it’s no use, she’s walking back to her camp angry and upset, he was going to kill the fairy.

#never forget you #Captain swan #cs fanfic #cs ff #fanfic #cs fic rec #my writing

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rumpledgoldenweaver · 4 years ago

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A Weekend Away

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling February prompt “I think we’re lost”. Also @fluffapalooza if it’s still open :) Read it on my blog: https://earlyrisingwriting.home.blog/2021/02/14/a-weekend-away/

An opportunity arises for the Gold Boys to spend time together away from Storybrooke’s prying eyes.

Malcolm Gold – he’d adopted his son’s cursed surname, Stiltskin didn’t seem right, it only served to remind him of the anger he’d felt when naming his baby boy. He didn’t want anything to do with the name Peter Pan any more, Gold was a fresh start – was beginning to rue the day he’d agreed to joining his rapidly expanding family for a weekend at Rumple’s forest cabin. It’s like the tree houses in Neverland Neal had explained but on the ground. It’ll be fun Papa, his son had told him through obviously gritted teeth, Malcolm hadn’t missed the discreet elbow to the ribs Rumple had taken from Belle as she’d added that it would be an opportunity to talk away from the scrutiny of the towns folk. Henry had kept a commendable straight face at that remark considering she was referring to at least half of his family. Malcolm liked Belle. She was honest, trusting but not to be crossed. Just what his son needed to keep him in line. It was mainly because of her he’d agreed to come along.

Malcolm had also been grateful to Belle for her advice regarding clothing in this new land. Although Rumple’s suits looked sharp, he didn’t want that many layers. Neal’s clothes were a bit too casual so he settled on trousers Henry had called Chinos, shirts with buttons, thin jumpers and boots called Timberland. Today he was particularly glad of the boots. Rumple had used magic to transport all the necessary clothes, food etc to the cabin, leaving Malcolm, Neal and Henry free to arrive on foot. Henry had been so excited at the thought of a hike through the forest with his Dad, no one had the heart to object.

“I think we’re lost” Malcolm tried to get his bearings however the trees all looked the same, he had no idea how far into the the forest they were.

“Lost Boys” sniggered Neal. Henry snorted which made his father laugh even more.

“Following the leader, the leader, the leader” sang Henry “We’re following the leader…”

“Wherever he may go” Neal joined in, the two of them dancing round in a circle.

“Very funny”

“You have no idea” laughed Neal “Have you seen the Disney film about Peter Pan yet?”

“The what?” Malcolm was still bemused by the popular cultures of the world he now lived in even though he’d got a better grasp of how it actually worked.

Henry grinned the kind of wicked grin Rumple would have been proud of “You’ll love it Gramps, especially Hook”

Neal’s eyebrows rose at the use of Gramps in relation to Malcolm

“What? I call Rumple Grandpa and Malcolm didn’t like Great Grandpa so Mum suggested Gramps”

“Which Mum?” though Neal had his suspicions

Henry didn’t answer but the glint in his eye was enough. Emma had an evil sense of humour.

“One of you must have been to this cabin before?”

“Neal shook his head “I arrived in town not long before the trip to Neverland but Papa and I weren’t exactly on friendly terms back then”

“I haven’t been either, I didn’t know Grandpa was my Grandpa and my mums weren’t about to let me hang out with The Dark One”

“Wonderful”

Neal looked around for minute or two, then as if some secret signal had been given he made an abrupt turn and set off down a path “Come on. It’s this way”

“Rumple will you please stop fussing. We have enough food to survive a small siege. There is no need to summon more”

“Have you ever fed a twelve year old boy? If his appetite is anything like Bae’s at that age then…” he felt a lump rise in his throat.

“Rumple?”

“Then I want to make sure there’s plenty”

“Oh Rumple” she hugged him hoping to both reassure and pull him out of this melancholy. He pulled her closer, nuzzling her hair, whispering a thank you sweetheart. Belle moved to kiss him and for the next couple of minutes there was a feeling of peace between them.

“Hi Grandpa Hi Belle sorry we’re.. oh…” Henry looked embarrassed at interrupting. Belle giggled, Rumple never even turned round as he replied “Hi Henry”

“Are they here?” Neal’s voice carried through the door.

“Er...yes…they are.. here…”

“Is something up?” Neal strode into the living room and stopped dead “Oh for pities sake you two get a room!”

Rumple did turn this time “This is my cabin Bae and my room”

“Not in front of the wee ones eh Laddie?” Malcolm chuckled.

“Indeed”

“Rumple..” there was a warning tone to Belle’s voice “remember what we talked about”

“Hmm”

Ever the diplomat Henry piped up “Is there anything to eat? I’m starving”

“Yes of course Henry” smiled Belle “in the kitchen”

The young boy disappeared, returning within five minutes carrying a plate loaded with burger, fries, onion rings, various dips and salad. Rumple gave Belle a told you so look.

“He obviously appreciates his food” Malcolm watched in amusement at Henry giving the burger his full attention.

“Takes after his father” Rumple nodded towards Neal as he too went to the kitchen and brought back a plate piled high.

Conversation remained light hearted as they ate, comments about both Neal and Henry having hollow legs because of their hearty appetites. Rumple found he was nearly enjoying himself. Nearly being better than not at all as Belle reminded him earlier.

“Where on earth did all the food come from anyway?” Malcolm asked as he debated which of the many desserts to try.

“I summoned it” Rumple replied reaching for a cupcake.

“Magic” Neal raised a suspicions eyebrow.

“Only to bring it here. It’s not magic food. I’ve paid Granny’s chef triple his wages to cook a steady supply especially for us”

“Fair enough” Neal took a satisfied mouthful of cake.

“More tea anyone?” Belle stood up and began collecting the various cups and mugs strewn around the room

“Coffee if you have it please”

“Of course Bae, I’ll put the pot on. Coffee has it’s own magic Dearie” he twirled his arms, turned on his heel and practically skipped out after Belle.

The expression on Henry’s face was priceless.

When everyone had eaten their fill, plates, cups and cutlery washed, dried and put away by hand not magic Rumple keenly pointed out, Henry suggested they watch a film. Malcolm being particularly interested in the idea of a a “moving book” being shown on something called a TV screen. Then began the debate over which one to put on. Whilst there wasn’t a great deal of choice amongst the DVD’s at the cabin, Rumple would be happy to summon whichever was decided on. Mostly it was left to Neal and Henry as they had the widest knowledge of such things. It seemed to Malcolm to be a very complicated process.

“Nothing over a PG”

“Awww Dad! I’m twelve! I can watch..”

“No. Your Mothers would find a hundred ways to kill me, bring me back to life and kill me all over again if they found out you’d watched anything remotely inappropriate”

“Grandpa would protect you”

“Oh no no no” laughed Rumple “Do not bring me into this. I argued with both of them over many things but even I have limits”

“What about that.. Disney thing you mentioned on the way here? Would that be allowable?”

All eyes turned to Malcolm.

“You mean Peter Pan?” Henry looked sceptical.

“Yeah.. that. I’d like to see it”

Rumple and Belle exchanged a look before he got up and went into the main bedroom. There followed the sound of keys turning in locks and a safe being opened.

“You keep Disney DVD’s in a vault Papa?”

“Along with a few other items I was unsure about at first yes”

“Such as?”

“Such as none of your business son” he walked back into the living room brandishing the disc “You can do the honours Bae”

It could, Belle mused to herself long after everyone else had retired for the night, have gone a lot worse. For instance everyone agreed that the physical resemblance between the cartoon and the person was actually rather accurate. They had all laughed like drains at Captain Hook. Belle honestly thought she’d have to give medical attention to Rumple and Malcolm as their hysterics gave way to mighty coughing fits. Neal and Henry sang along with the songs, Never Smile At A Crocodile didn’t go down very well with Rumple at first but he saw the funny side in the end. When it came to Following The Leader, the youngest father and son immediately leapt to their feet and began dancing round the room in a repeat of their antics in the forest earlier.

“So that’s where that song came from” groused Malcolm.

There seemed to be an unspoken agreement to not discuss certain details regarding film versus real life, for that Belle was grateful. She knew the relationships in that room were complicated, messy, quite possibly very unhealthy and could keep Archie Hopper on Rumple’s pay roll for decades. Whilst she believed talking about these issues was healthy, this weekend was not the time or the place. For once no one was arguing, for once certain townsfolk weren’t around to stick their well intentioned (or otherwise) noses in. She wondered if inviting her own father for a weekend here might help ease tensions between him and her boyfriend. Maybe leave it a month or so before she suggested that.

“What are you smirking at?” Rumple came from the en suite, pulled the bed covers back and climbed in bed beside her. Her eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Don’t you dare Belle” he warned, which was the wrong thing to say because of course she dared.

“Never smile at a crocodile..”

“I’m warning you young lady”

“No you can’t get friendly with a crocodile…” she sang between giggles.

“Right then”

And he proceeded to show her how friendly crocodiles could be when they wanted to.

#a monthly rumbelling #fluffapalooza 2021 #february prompt #gold family fic #gold boys fic

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 1 year ago

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Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 2: A Christmas Miracle (2/3)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1197

Other chapters: 1 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Note: This is chapter two of my 2013 story A Christmas Miracle. It was written just before the end of the Neverland arc and it fits within my “A Wish Your Heart Makes” universe. References to curses and Camelot refer to that verse!

Hook adjusted the collar of his leather coat and then stepped from the hallway into Granny’s dining room. The chamber had been utterly transformed. A huge pine tree decorated with brightly colored lights, tinsel and hundreds of ornaments took up an entire corner. Red and green streamers, sprigs of holly and huge paper snowflakes adorned the wall and ceiling. Several small tables had been pushed together to form one long table elaborately set for nine.

As he sauntered into the room, Hook looked over the gathered assembly. Baelfire stood with Belle and the Crocodile, talking and laughing. Belle gazed adoringly up at the Crocodile, and he raised a hand to tenderly stroke her face. Hook waited for the familiar burning hatred to steal over him at the sight of his erstwhile enemy, but it never came. For that matter, it hadn’t come in quite some time. When had he given up the last vestiges of his vengeance?

Hook looked past Snow and Charming, busy with last minute preparations, to Emma and her lad who stood talking and laughing near the booths. Suddenly he knew exactly when his hatred for the crocodile had vanished. It was the moment he had finally let go of Milah’s memory, the moment he had fallen deeply, passionately, irretrievably in love with Emma Swan.

The lass was beautiful this evening. She wore an ice-blue tea-length gown and a matching lacy bolero sweater. Her golden hair was swept up at the sides and fell in riotous curls down her back. Hook didn’t think he’d ever seen her in formal attire, and the effect nearly stole the breath from his lungs.

As though feeling his gaze, Emma looked up and caught his eye. She colored slightly at the look he gave her, and then dropped her eyes. Hook sighed and walked forward toward his lady and her lad. Would he ever succeed in scaling that well-fortified fortress that she had built around her heart?

“Hook!” Henry called joyfully when the pirate was a few feet away. “I didn’t know you were coming too!”

Hook grinned and tousled the boy’s hair. “Aye lad; that I am.”

“Cool!” Henry beamed at him. Hook had spent quite some time with the lad during their last adventure, and he found he genuinely enjoyed the boy’s company. It gratified him that Emma’s son seemed glad to see him as well.

The diner door opened, and Regina stepped in, brushed the snow from her dark hair, and shrugged out of her coat.

“Mom!” Henry called, walking over to the queen.

Hook looked back at Emma, and she looked suddenly shy.

“You’re stunning, love,” Hook said with a soft smile. Emma’s blush grew.

“But then again,” he continued, his grin turning wicked, “I’ve no doubt you would be stunning in whatever you wore…or didn’t wear.”

She rolled her eyes at that, but he noticed she couldn’t quite stop the grin that spread over her lips.

“Please,” she said, “You are so full of it, Hook.”

His grin was pure pirate. “Full of charm, charisma, astonishingly good looks?” he drawled. “Aye lass; that I am.”

She laughed and playfully shoved his shoulder. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. He was making headway, he knew it. He was starting to see a slight crack in that wall of hers.

“Ok, everyone,” Snow called from the table where she had just placed a fragrant, steaming turkey, “dinner’s ready.”

“Shall we?” Hook asked, gesturing with his hook.

Emma nodded and Hook followed her to the table. She took a seat next to Henry, and Hook seated himself on her other side. The Charmings had procured a veritable Christmas feast complete with turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables and cranberry sauce. Hook’s mouth watered at the delicious aromas. He suddenly remembered it had been hours since his last meal.

At the head of the table, Charming stood and tapped his wine glass with a knife.

“I would like to propose a toast,” he said, encompassing the whole group with his gaze. “It has been a rough year for all of us. We’ve dealt with difficulties, setbacks, danger, and heartbreak.”

Charming glanced at Regina, and the queen dropped her eyes. Hook felt a surge of pity for the woman. She had found Robin Hood, her true love, in the Enchanted Forest, and it looked like she would finally get her happy ending. Then they had found a way back to Storybrook…a way that couldn’t include Robin Hood and his little son. Hook knew all too well what it felt like to be separated from the one you love.

“But it has been a good year, as well,” Charming continued. “We’ve faced our challenges, and we’ve overcome them. We’ve succeeded in breaking not only one, but two curses, and we’ve succeeded in rescuing Henry from one of the most evil villains in any realm. Through it all, we’ve come to be a family. We’ve been able to put aside our grievances, our difficulties, even our hatred and work together toward some pretty difficult goals.”

Charming raised his glass higher and once more swept his gaze over the entire assembly. “So I ask you to raise your glasses. To family and friends and all those we love!”

Hook got to his feet with everyone else and raised his glass filled with ruby-red wine. Clinking his glass against Emma’s, he looked into her eyes. He held her gaze as he repeated “To family and friends and all those we love!”

Emma’s heart raced. She should look away, turn in the other direction, anything. But she simply couldn’t do it. His blue eyes were simply mesmerizing. That look on his face! What was she to do? There was no denying the attraction she felt toward him. After their kiss in Neverland, she couldn’t even pretend to herself that he meant nothing to her.

But he was a pirate! He flirted with anything in skirts. How could she possibly believe that he loved her and would fight for her? How could she let her guard down enough to give her heart to another man?

Besides, she was the savior, and, well, it seemed that meant she didn’t get her happy ending. She ensured everyone else had a chance at a happy ending, but it wasn’t in the cards for her. Hadn’t everything that had happened over the last few months proved that? As soon as one crisis ended another began.

“Uh, mom?” she heard Henry ask from her side.

The spell was broken; she was finally able to tear her gaze from Hook’s. Looking around, she saw that every single person at the table was seated but her and her pirate…and every single eye was on them. For the love of all that was holy, what was wrong with her? She dropped hastily to her seat and drained her glass of wine.

“You don’t happen to have an extra flask on you?” she asked Hook in a low voice.

“No, love,” he answered, laughter in his voice.

“Shame,” she said ruefully, “I have a feeling I’m going to need a whole lot of alcohol before this night is over.”

NEXT CHAPTER-->

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #a christmas miracle

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sometimesiwritebadly · 4 years ago

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The Lost Girl (Part 3)

Chapter Summary: In the past, Raven confronts Killian and Liam for the first time in years. In the present, Raven and Hook begin working together to save David from the dreamshade poison.

Notes: lmao remember that time i said it wouldn’t be long until the next chapter? that was funny. also ao3 saw it first

Warnings: Language, brief mention of suicide

Word Count: 1.9k

Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

~~~ A Very Long Time Ago ~~~

Raven really didn’t want to do this. She was hiding behind some bushes, watching Liam and Killian make the journey up to dead man’s peak, searching for the deadly dreamshade. She knew she had to convince them not to take the plant back to the Enchanted Forest, but confronting the two of them would mean admitting some of her deepest secrets. Killian, assuming he hasn’t grown out of his inquisitive nature, would have hundreds of questions. But Liam...she knew for a fact what he’d ask. “Why did you leave me Talia? Did I mean nothing to you?” She could practically hear him say it, with his ocean blue eyes filled with pain. Liam had meant so much to her, and she to him...Raven would never admit it to anyone, but in a better world, she would’ve happily married him.

Raven watched as they got closer and closer to the dreamshade, the brothers talking about their encounter with Pan. She took a deep breath, then appeared in front of Liam, blocking the path. Liam had his sword in front of him, using it to clear away any plants in their way. When he spotted her, he didn’t lower it.

“What do you want?” He asked, his voice laced in anger. Ouch. Killian took a much kinder approach.

“Is it really you, Talia? How can this be?” Raven had to resist letting a smile overcome her face. He was still so kind, after all this time.

“It’s Raven now. I, uh, I took a new name. When I left the ship.” She took a deep breath, gathering more courage before continuing, “It really is me, though. No one ages on Neverland...I had no idea it had been so long until I recognized you.” Liam finally yielded, putting his sword away, but his hardened face showed no emotion at Raven’s explanation.

“Tal -” Killian stopped himself, before continuing without the use of her name, “We thought you were dead...we thought you’d - How did you even get here? Why did you never come back? Why'd you leave?” There it was, all the questions that Raven did not want to answer. Instead, she changed the topic to what she had really come for.

“It doesn’t matter. I came to tell you that you can’t take the dreamshade back to the Enchanted Forest. It’s too dangerous.” Her comment only made Liam scoff.

“Nice try Raven ,” He said, mocking the name, “But your suitor already tried. And I don’t mean to offend, but I’d rather believe my king than a traitor like yourself.”

Raven tried not to let his comment affect her, instead trying again to persuade him. “Look, you don’t need to forgive me. After today, you never need to see me again. Just trust me one last time-”

“Trust you? You abandoned us! How can I trust you? You know-” He paused for a moment, taking a menacing step towards Raven, “I wish you had walked off the plank like we thought for all those years. At least then I could remember you as a friend, instead of knowing the truth of your bad form.”

Killian’s eyes widened at his comment, and at the fury that was appearing in Raven’s eyes. He took a step back from the pair, sensing the argument would only get more heated.

Raven began yelling this time. “Bad form? The only bad form here is trying to win a war for a ruthless, idiotic king by cheating! You have absolutely no idea what I was going through on that ship-”

Liam cut her off once more, yelling even louder than she, “Yes I do! I know exactly what you were going through because you were my best friend! I told you everything and you did the same! I thought we had a future, but you - Did you even care for me at all? Did you not think for one moment how you leaving would affect me?

“You know what,” Raven began walking away from the brothers as she spoke, “Go ahead! Kill everyone with the dreamshade. Kill the other army, kill your own army, kill yourselves with it! May the last thing you think of when the poison takes over your heart be regret. You can die thinking about how the traitor Talia was right! ” With her final words, she disappeared from their sight, heading back to camp.

~~~ Present Day ~~~

“How are you holding up, mate?” Hook asked David, who was very obviously struggling as they walked.

“Just fine. Perfect. Why would anything be wrong.” David replied, glancing back at Raven as he tried to appear in perfect health.

“Yeah, you don’t need to fake it. I know you’ve been poisoned by dreamshade.” Raven said, making David stop walking and look at Hook with anger.

“You told her?!”

“He didn’t have to, mate. It’s obvious to anyone familiar with the side effects.” Despite Raven’s assurance that Hook hadn’t broken what little trust David had put in him, the prince felt no need to apologize, instead answering Hook’s original question.

“Don't worry about me. Just worry about getting us to the sextant.”

“As entertaining as that was, I wasn’t talking about the poison. I meant the good-byes. Looked a bit stormy back there.” David began walking again, letting the other two follow behind him.

“I did what had to be done, and I did it out of love. Emma and Mary Margaret will understand that.” He explained, before stopping once more at a nearby tree.

“I hate to break it to you, but-” Raven started, before Hook cut her off.

“You’re gonna tell them that from beyond the grave.” He said, earning a glare from the girl.

David looked at the two of them once more before correcting, “No. You are. You two are gonna tell them that I died a hero, fighting for their way home. What you're not gonna tell them is that I left already a dead man.”

“You don’t think your family deserves the truth?” Raven asked.

“What do you know of family?” Hook muttered, although he made no effort to hide the comment from Raven. In return, Raven hit his arm as hard as she could.

David, ignoring the childish exchange, answered Raven’s question. “Their last memories of me won't be of a liar.”

“Why should I help you?” Hook asked. Raven was surprised at his question, considering the whole point of this journey was to save David’s life.

David chuckled at the question before answering, “Well, if you didn't steal that bean, they wouldn't have had a chance to take Henry, we wouldn't be on this island, and I wouldn't be dying of dreamshade.”

“Nice going, Hook.” Raven muttered. This time, Hook hit her arm.

“Fair point.” He replied to David, “At least you got to say good-bye. Most people don't get that much.” David paused for a moment, before looking back at Hook. Hook kept walking, taking the lead before David spoke again.

“You lost someone, didn't you?” Hook glanced at Raven for just a single moment before ignoring David’s question. If David noticed the exchange, he didn’t say anything.

“This is where we ascend. I'll climb ahead and throw down the rope.” Raven looked up at the peak, remembering the horrible day she had been there with Hook and Liam. David and Hook kept arguing as Hook began to climb up, but she didn’t pay much attention. She wished more than anything she could go back, make her last words to Liam anything other than what she had said.

~~~ A Very Long Time Ago ~~~

When Raven returned to the Lost Boy’s Camp, she was fuming. Their numbers were few, as Pan had only recently begun recruiting people to permanently stay on the island, so there was plenty of room for the Lost Boys to stay the hell away from Raven as she stormed about. She was muttering to herself, complaining about how “Liam think’s he’s all that,” and “Of course he became a fucking Captain,” and how, “He’s just some king’s little bitch.”

When Pan noticed his Raven’s mood, he turned to Felix for answers.

“I think she talked to the adults that showed up earlier.” Was the only answer Felix had for him.

“Well I knew that much, you idiot-”

“I can hear you two!” Raven snapped, cutting off Pan. Pan winced, turning around to see Raven staring right at them. He sent Felix off with a look, before walking over towards the girl.

“So..care to explain?” He asked, sitting next to Raven on a log.

“They’re idiotic adults who are going to end up killing their entire country-”

“Not that, Raven. Clearly you know them.”

Raven sighed, looking down at her hands before telling the truth. “We lived on that ship together. They were my friends. Now they’re idiotic adults who would rather trust some dumb king than their oldest friend.”

“You lived on the- you said there weren’t any boys on the ship!” Pan exclaimed, remembering the first night he met Raven. When she glared at him, he conceded. “But that’s not important now….you tried your best to tell them the truth. It’s up to them now.”

“I just want them off the island. As soon as possible.” This made Pan grin. Sounds like a good game, and Pan loves a game.

“Now that, I can do for you.”

~~~ Present Day ~~~

Raven and David watched as Hook climbed up the mountain. The plan was for Hook to climb up and throw a rope down so David could make it up the mountain. Raven’s job was just to make sure he stays alive until then. Hook had wanted Raven to just “poof” them up to the top, as he put it, but Raven insisted that it would be better to avoid any magic, as Pan can trace it easily.

Hook was nearly all the way up the mountain before David made any attempt at conversation.

“So...how long have you known Hook?” He asked, making Raven look away from the climbing pirate.

“Uhhh.. I’m not sure.” Raven answered honestly, “I’ve probably been on this island for hundreds of years.”

“Well sure..it’s just that you two seem close.”

“Close?!” Raven repeated, unsure if she’d heard David right. “Hook and I are nowhere near friends, I’m not sure where you got that idea, mate.”

“I don’t mean that you’re friends, I just mean that you argue more like you’re siblings than enemies.” David’s observation made Raven go quiet. “C’mon, I’m a dying man. And I’m curious.”

Raven scoffed at David’s attempt to get her to tell the truth, but decided to tell him anyway. “Hook and I knew each other before either of us came to Neverland.”

“What, like, when you were kids?”

“I’m still a kid, thank you very-” Raven suddenly sensed the presence of Pan, making her stop talking. She looked around the forest, before realizing that Pan was at the top of the mountain with Hook.

“What is it?” David asked, sensing her concern.

“Pan’s up there.”

“How do you know? Is Hook ok?” David asked.

“I just know, ok. And I’m not sure about Hook...but he hasn’t thrown the rope down. Think you can climb without it?” Raven asked, but before she even finished the question, David was slowly beginning to climb. “Guess that’s a yes…” She mumbled, before pulling her hands on the rocks and pulling herself up.

~~~

tag: @peculiarinsomniac

#peter pan #peter pan ouat #peter pan fic #peter pan x oc #ouat fic #ouat season 3 #ouat fanfiction #once upon a time #once upon a time fanfiction #once upon a time fic

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years ago

Text

The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 8/11

I’m so excited to share this chapter with you! The wardrobe will finally work its magic again! But . . . well . . . we do have three more chapters to go . . . For those of you who read the original, this contains a pivotal scene from that version, though with some changes. Changes I feel make it even better. I hope ya’ll think so too!

Much thanks as always to the mods of the csrt event at @captainswanbigbang. Also thanks to @optomisticgirl and @shippingtheswann for their beta skills. I especially needed both your help with the battle scene in this, for which I am immensely grateful!

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and positive Millian

Words: About 4k in this chapter

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 23

Jackie is in her seventies, or at least looks like she’s in her seventies, and her house is at least a hundred years old. But those are the only two similarities either the woman or the house share with Emma’s beloved Martha. Where Martha’s house was old and a little worse for wear, it was still well loved and kept clean and tidy. Jackie’s house is only a few steps above being condemned, and as for cleanliness, well, Emma almost chokes on the stench. But after weeks on the road in her bug, it’s all Emma can afford.

Jackie isn’t in much better shape than her house, her face drawn and scowling, and a cigarette dangling from her mouth. Where Martha had been soft and gentle, Jackie is all sharp lines and harsh edges. Her voice is rough as sandpaper, her words like vinegar. There definitely is no little box of Bible verses in this woman’s kitchen.

The room Emma is renting is in slightly better shape than the rest of the house; the previous renter had at least known what Pine-Sol was. It’s about as small as her room at Martha’s when she was ten, yet it does have a tiny bathroom attached and the fireplace actually works. In one corner is crammed a miniscule table and chair, and in the other –

Is a wardrobe.

Emma drops her duffel on the scuffed hardwood as her jaw almost comes unhinged. There’s no mistaking it this time: It’s the same one she had in her room at ten and sixteen. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Seriously? She berates herself, not for the first time, for her decision to come back to Maine, even if Florida had been a massive mistake. After saving up all that money at Granny’s, she foolishly wasted two years in Tallahassee. She still kicks herself for thinking Neal would actually find her. What did she think this was? A rom-com? It isn’t. Her life is no Hallmark movie, no fairy tale. She glances at the wardrobe.

Even if a dashing slave/cabin boy had come to her through an enchanted wardrobe.

She sighs and pauses before unzipping her duffel, then decides to just slide the bag under the bed. It isn’t quite as large or ornate as her bed at Martha’s, but it’s still a four-poster with ample room underneath.

She purposely ignores the wardrobe the rest of the evening, refusing to give it even a glance as she cooks up a supper of ramen noodles with her hot plate. She stares at the noodles in her bowl, the desire to look over in the opposite corner stronger than she would care to admit. Why did she even come back to Maine? Oh right, because there are people in a town called Storybrooke who said she could come back if Tallahassee didn’t work out. Too bad she needs to earn more money before she can get the rest of the way there. And in the meantime, this wardrobe is mocking her.

She stays in the shower longer than necessary, despite the layers of scum on the avocado colored subway tiles. She comes out in nothing but a towel, grasping it tight with one hand as she fishes in her duffel with the other. Normally, alone in her room, she’d just walk around naked. But she can’t help remembering those blue eyes she saw watching her as a girl. She chuckles wryly at herself and ceases searching her bag. She stands up straight, pushing her wet hair from her eyes, and drills her gaze into the wardrobe. With a huff she stomps over and flings the door open.

A handful of empty wire hangers swing and clang together from the post inside. That’s it. Empty. Emma laughs at herself as she shuts the door. She lets her towel drop to the floor as she returns to her duffel. With two hands, she finds her pajama pants and tank top quickly and slips into them. She’s just crawled into bed and is reaching over to flip off the bedside lamp when she hears a squeak. She pauses, her hand hovering in midair between the bed and the lamp. She turns her head slowly towards the wardrobe.

The door suddenly swings open.

“Emma? I’ve tried this wardrobe a hundred times . . . ”

Her mouth falls open at the sight of the person on the other side. She eases slowly from the bed in shock and steps closer.

“Killian?” she questions softly, wrapping her arms around the post of the four-poster bed. The same blue eyes as always stare back at her, but he has changed so much. Those eyes are now rimmed with dark kohl, and his face has a hardened edge that is brand new. His hair is the same dark shade, but instead of the shoulder length and the boyish lock of hair falling in his eyes, it is now a bit shorter and messy in a dangerous sort of way. Instead of a nightshirt, he wears tight, black leather pants and a long black leather coat over a black shirt and red vest. The buttons of his shirt are undone almost to his navel, revealing thick, dark hair on a hardened, muscular chest. The naïve, hopeful boy she had known has obviously grown into a world-weary man.

And then there’s the hook. A large, shiny steel hook where his left hand used to be.

The harshness of his face softens as he takes in the sight of her, and when he speaks, the roguish smile he gives her and the cocky arch of his brow seem slightly forced. Like a long-practiced act he’s performing for the first time in her presence.

“Actually, love, people have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker: Hook.” His face falls even as he brandishes the intimidating appendage. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again, lass. It’s been so long.”

Emma shrugs, the corner of her mouth hitching up. “Only seven years. Give or take.”

“Yet so much has happened since then,” he tells her in a voice heavy with almost unbearable sadness.

“For me too,” she admits in barely more than a whisper.

They search one another’s eyes for a silent heartbeat. “I hate to hear that, love,” he finally says, “though I hope the terrors here are less frightening than those in Neverland.”

Emma’s mind reels. He’s been in Neverland. He’s dressed like a pirate. He has a hook. When she speaks, it’s almost hesitant. “You mean . . . you’re Captain Hook?”

His eyes light up and a look of pride fills his face. His voice is full of bravado when he speaks. “Ah, so you’ve heard of me.”

Emma suppresses a laugh. “Well, there’s a book. And movie. Several movies, actually.”

He cocks his head for a moment as he searches her face, a look of slight confusion upon his own. Then some sort of realization seems to wash over him, and he deflates his posturing. “The portrayal was far from flattering, I see. I – I’ll leave you.”

“Wait!” Emma cries out even as he turns to go. Without thinking, she reaches out and grabs his hook to stop him. When he turns, he looks in surprise at where her fingers curve around the steel. So he’s . . . Captain Hook. Is that so much harder to believe than having a friend that walks through an enchanted wardrobe? She smiles up at him. “Stay.”

He seems almost transfixed as she pulls him out of the wardrobe and towards the bed. She sits and gently tugs him down with her, her hand still clutching his hook. It doesn’t scare her, didn’t for one second. And it’s hard to explain, but holding it seems . . . right. Comforting, even. She sets it in her lap and squeezes it as she gazes into his face.

“Tell me what’s happened since I saw you last,” she encourages, as she would to a long lost friend. Because that’s what he is. The only one she has or has ever had, come to think of it.

He clears his throat, still staring at his hook in her lap. “I’m afraid there’s an awful lot to tell.” The slightly embarrassed chuckle and ear scratch that he gives her reveals the boy still inside him.

Emma shifts closer, “Just the highlights, then. It’s not like I have anything important to do.”

So he begins to talk. The accented voice she has always loved rolls over her like a warm embrace, but the story breaks her heart. He tells her about losing his brother Liam and why he became a pirate. His voice breaks as he describes the elder Jones dying in his arms, and Emma tugs his arm up and over her shoulder. A tear tracks down his cheek as he tells her about Milah, about watching Pan crush her heart and being helpless to stop it. He turns his face away as he speaks of the choices he has made, many of them dark, in his pursuit of revenge against Pan. Emma leans closer and rests her head on his shoulder to let him know it doesn’t change anything.

“I’ve been talking on and on about nothing but myself,” he tells her, his lips brushing against the crown of her head. “That’s bad form, love. What about your life? Less tragic than mine, I hope.”

Emma lifts her head to look into his eyes, so intensely blue as they study her. “I’ve had my own share of tragedy.” She lets out a shaky breath and then tells him about Neal and jail, and then . . . she speaks for the first time about the baby she gave away. Confesses for the first time out loud about how giving him up tore her heart in two.

Killian holds her tighter as the tears break free. She turns in his embrace, fisting her hands in his shirt and sobbing into his shoulder. When her tears are spent, there is a dark, wet spot on his shirt. She laughs sardonically as she wipes at it.

“Look what I’ve done to your shirt.”

“Tis nothing, love.”

Emma suddenly realizes that both her hands are splayed against his chest, and she can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. She lifts her head and sees his face so close to hers. Her eyes flicker from his bright eyes to his lips, and her thoughts tumble backwards in time to their first kiss when his lips were so soft and welcoming, and how the feel of them on hers made her heart soar. They both lean towards each other, and then their lips are brushing. They sort of melt against one another as they deepen the kiss, and it’s simultaneously just like when they were sixteen and vastly different. The softness, the tenderness, and the heart swelling rush are all still there. But there’s fire and passion wrought of pain and loss that sparks and sets them both on fire.

What comes next happens in a sort of haze, as if Killian is a drug she can’t resist. Hands and lips feverishly exploring, and clothes peeled back and cast aside with a mixture of frenzy and reverence. When Emma removes his brace, he stiffens and closes his eyes in shame. She lifts his left arm and runs her fingers across the scars there, then kisses it tenderly. He tells her around an obvious lump in his throat that no one has seen or touched it since Milah. She presses it to her breast and pulls him close for a hungry kiss. She wants him to know he isn’t disabled or broken, not to her.

Then they’re falling as they come together, Killian practically worshipping every inch of her as if she’s an angel he doesn’t quite deserve. And Emma is almost overwhelmed with the intensity of it, and she wonders why she ever thought she loved Neal.

Because it was never like this.

They are still breathing heavily, yet sated and slightly drowsy in each other’s arms when the light pours out of the open door of the wardrobe. Emma cups Killian’s face and runs her thumb along the scar on his cheek.

“Emma.” His voice is almost a groan. “For years, I told myself that if I ever found my way back here, I would stay. With you.”

He’s searching her face, and the look in his eyes is begging her to understand. “But you can’t, can you?” she whispers.

Killian brushes her lips against hers, feather light. “I just received an urgent message from some friends. We were making haste to Neverland when I saw a light in the wardrobe. I have to help them if I can.”

Emma grasps his shoulders tight even as she nods in understanding. He presses his forehead to hers, his eyes closed, and they breathe one another in for just one more heartbeat. Then he slips from the bed and begins to gather his clothes. As he steps into his leather pants, the light of the moon sends a shaft of light across his back, illuminating the criss-cross pattern of scars she had traced earlier with her fingers. She remembers the trembling slave boy of ten, and the hesitantly hopeful cabin boy of sixteen, and she wonders if the scars were there even then.

Killian finishes dressing with a click of his hook into his brace. The sound of it echoes in the quiet room, and she sees his jaw tense with shame. Giving him her body clearly wasn’t enough to wash that away, and it breaks her heart.

“Emma,” he says, voice thick with emotion, “I’m not the boy you once knew. I know I wasn’t worthy to share your bed tonight, but know one thing.” He lifts his gaze finally to hers, and the moonlight brightens them. They are swimming with more emotion than anyone has ever bestowed upon her. “I have always loved you. That has never changed.”

She sits up, clutching the sheets to her bare chest as she watches him walk to the wardrobe. She wants to tell him she loves him too, but she can’t get the words past her throat. He steps into the wardrobe, and a slight panic seizes her that she can’t speak. He turns to look at her, giving her a tender smile.

“Can I come back tomorrow night?”

Her heart soars at his question, tears filling her eyes. “Yes.”

He gives a simple nod, pulls the wardrobe closed, and the light is gone. He is gone. A strangled sound comes from Emma’s throat as she curls in on herself. Every time she and Killian have spent a night together, her world comes crashing down. First Martha’s stroke, then being betrayed by what she thought was her family.

Whatever tomorrow brings, she doubts it will be Killian.

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

When Killian comes back through the wardrobe, the early light of dawn is just beginning to spill through the windows of his cabin. He sinks to his bunk, his heart still struggling to recover from the night he had shared with Emma. He can still see that otherworldly light seeping through the cracks of the wardrobe door, and he’s tempted to go back through and simply stay with Emma. He clenches his jaw as he reaches over with his hook and pierces the small slip of paper that had arrived via bird from Tink and Tiger Lily less than twenty four hours ago.

Pan has him.

Three simple words that he can’t ignore. So he lets the light fade away, rises to his feet, and strides above deck, crushing the missive in his hand.

“What is our position, Starkey?” he cries to his first mate.

“We’ll be making landfall in less than half an hour, sir.”

Killian nods as he joins the other young man at the captain’s wheel. Starkey’s gaze keeps cutting his way, but Killian is in no mood to talk. His emotions are a tumult of golden hair, light green eyes, and heated skin mixed in with the fear of reaching the island too late. Somehow, for reasons he can’t fathom, his night with Emma feels intertwined with the boy he has to save. Has to. He tells himself this overwhelming urge comes from his own memories of a shattered childhood, but somehow he knows it is deeper than that. His nerve endings feel exposed, brushing up against a mystery just out of reach.

When they anchor the ship in the cove near Mermaid’s Lagoon, Hawkins tells him in hushed tones that the island is much too quiet. It has nothing to do with the empty lagoon or the stillness of the dark waters nearest to the shore. The mermaids abandoned this place long ago, when magic first began to die. Tink speaks dreamily of their songs, but it’s a pleasure that has never reached his ears.

No, this quiet is filled with a heavier foreboding. Hook normally visits the home beneath the ground on his own, not wanting to expose Wendy to his uncouth crew, but this time he takes those he trusts most along with him: Starkey, Hawkins, and Slightly. Mason begs to come along, but there’s too much unknown to risk it.

They find the place just as quiet as the rest of the island. Wendy’s sewing basket is sitting abandoned by the hearth, the fireplace cold. Hook frowns when he sees a tiny cup sitting upon the kitchen table, filled to the brim with a brown liquid. He shakes his head.

“Wendy always makes sure Michael takes his medicine.”

It’s awful stuff, and the boy pitches a fit every time, but the concoction brewed by Tiger Lily is a supposed inoculation for dreamshade. Killian’s skeptical of the home remedy - it’s never made a bit of difference for his crew - but it makes Wendy feel better to make her brother take it.

Yet here it sits.

Starkey pulls a dagger from his belt. “Something strange is afoot, Cap’n.”

“Aye.”

“Their brother John came for them.”

They spin at the sound, weapons aloft, but it is only Tiger Lily. Killian deflates and re-sheaths his sword.

“Brother?”

“Half brother,” Tiger Lily sighs, depositing a quiver of arrows upon the table and rolling her shoulders. “He’s already a man. A man who made a deal with Pan, apparently. You weren’t the only one searching for the boy, Hook.”

“You don’t mean -”

“Yes, Pan has him. I’ve tracked them to Skull Rock. Tink is there keeping watch, but I’m not sure what we can do.”

“And Wendy and Michael -”

“Gone. I don’t know how, but Pan gave John an antidote for the water of Rainbow Falls as well as passage to another realm.”

“Home,” Killian whispers, “a land without magic, Wendy said.”

Tiger Lily nods. “John was a desperate man, Killian. He didn’t want to turn the child over; had grown attached to him even, but Wendy is 15 now, and . . . “

She trails off, her shoulders hunched. She isn’t like Tink with chatter spilling out of her. Tiger Lily is clearly shaken. Killian sinks onto one of the kitchen chairs and rubs his hand over his face.

“He wanted to save his sister and brother, I get that,” Killian fumes “but turning over a tiny lad that way . . . “ He slams his fist into the table in frustration.

“We must attack, Captain,” Hawkins says grimly, “before Pan kills the boy.”

Killian looks at the three determined men before him. He knows they’re right. Emma, he thinks to himself, please understand if I don’t make it back to you.

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

“Pan has to do the ritual here,” Tiger Lily whispers from their hiding place in Skull Rock. “This is the heart of Neverland. All the island’s magic originates here.”

Killian peers over the rock with Tiger Lily at his side. The child stands trembling with Pan beside him. An enormous hourglass looms over them both, the sand within like gold dust. Whatever it is measuring, time is almost up.

“I’ve never seen that hourglass before,” Killian says to Tiger Lily.

“Pan’s had a protection spell around it until recently. It measures Pan’s boyhood. He will never grow up, but he isn’t immortal.”

He isn’t immortal. A slow smile fills Killian’s face. “Pan is the reason magic is dying in Neverland.”

Tiger Lily’s gaze meets his, her brown eyes widening brightly. “Of course! Peter Pan’s magic is unnatural; it consumes. Get rid of Pan -”

“Restore Neverland to glory,” Killian finishes for her.

Killian looks back at the child once again, yet another source of magic for Peter Pan to consume for his own “play.” Even from this place he can hear the boy’s weeping. The Lost Boys surround him and their leader, weapons forming a tight circle that will be difficult to penetrate. Nevertheless, Killian takes note of one important detail.

“They are in an offensive position to keep the boy in,” he whispers. “Not defensive to keep attackers out.”

“We still need a plan,” the fairy whispers back.

He smirks at Tiger Lily. “What do you think I have a crew for?”

She rolls her eyes. “You don’t mean to tell me you’ll risk that child for a full on assault?”

“Hey,” he gives her a wink, ‘trust me for once.”

He slips away, further into the cave, and he bites back a chuckle at the way Tiger Lily is grumbling. His crew has used these caves often to store bits of treasure for a rainy day, so he’s familiar with its labyrinth of tunnels. He hurries along one with light, quiet steps. It leads him to a precipice just over where Pan is giving a rousing speech to his Lost Boys.

Killian is surprised that the child isn’t restrained in any way, but he’s so small, and his eyes so large with fright, that it’s likely unnecessary. Killian eases his way to the very edge of the precipice, lying flat on his stomach so he’s hidden from sight.

Pan is saying something about saving Neverland’s magic, grasping the trembling boy by the arm. Killian thinks back to Mason and then Michael and the lack of a mark that saved them from this cruel rite. He can’t see it from here, but he assumes that this child does bear the mark.

Killian knows that time is short. He scans the large main cavern of Skull Rock, his eyes finding the members of his crew. All are in position, so he takes a deep breath before calling out:

“Flee! Flee!”

He adjusts the timbre of his voice, deepening it ominously. The Lost Boys freeze and Pan narrows his eyes as he drops the little boy’s arm. Now that he has their attention, he continues.

“You heard me. Flee, I tell you! The spirit of Skull Rock has spoken!”

To his right, still crouched behind the rock where he left her, Tiger Lily is glaring at him. She makes gestures with her hands that clearly say what the hell are you doing? He tosses her a wink which says Hey, it’s me! Which she ought to be used to by now, really. Below them, his words have had the desired effect on the Lost Boys.

“It’s a ghost!”

“A ghost who wants revenge!”

“This place is haunted!”

“Quiet, you idiots!” Peter shouts. “Someone’s here alright, but it’s not a ghost.”

“I am the ghost of vengeance,” Killian cries out again in a deepened voice.

He’s enjoying this far too much, truth be told. Peter’s face can’t seem to settle on anger or fear, and Killian’s lips curl into a grin. The imp pulls out his dagger as he inches closer to the stone walls of the cave, and the Lost Boys gather at his back. The pixie dust is too scarce now for the demon boy to take flight, a fact that Killian relishes.

In the shadows, Killian spies Hawkins taking advantage of Pan’s distraction. He grabs the little boy, clamping a hand over his mouth to muffle any cries. Mason is at his back, and the two teenagers hurry the child to a waiting rowboat, Tink at the oars.

Once the youngest members of his crew have succeeded in rescuing the lad, Killian slinks back down the tunnel to join the rest of the pirates. Tiger Lily scowls at him as she follows.

“So you were never going to clue me into your plan?” she whispers.

“What would be the fun in that?” he quips back under his breath.

Peter calls out into the dark recesses of Skull Rock, “Ghost, demon, or man, whoever you are, make yourself known!”

Hook’s lips curl up into a satisfying smirk. The noose has been tightened; his crew has The Lost Boy’s surrounded.

“Boo!” he shouts, arching one brow mockingly.

The look on Pan’s face when he turns and sees a crew of pirate’s behind him, armed to the teeth, is one that Killian Jones will never forget. His crew falls upon the Lost Boys, but Hook keeps his eyes locked on Peter Pan. Hook isn’t sure if it’s cowardice or desperation, but Pan runs away from the battle towards the hourglass. Then a look of confusion washes over Peter’s face, and Killian grins knowing exactly what his enemy has just realized.

“Looking for something?” he shouts over the din, swinging his hook to dispatch the Lost Boys who are in his way.

“Where is the boy?” Pan shrieks in a blind rage. He lunges at Hook, but his form

is sluggish.

“Gone,” Killian snarls.

“It’s you or me this time, Hook!” Pan bellows as he launches himself at Killian.

Hook’s cutlass flies from his hand; by all accounts the boy has taken him completely by surprise. Never has Peter Pan fought more like a demon than he does now, scratching and biting and kicking. Killian rolls with him, slashing occasionally with his hook enough to draw blood. Peter’s rage is an almost palpable thing, and though Hook could succumb to his own in equal measure, he holds himself back.

Instead, he laughs. The sound sends Pan over the edge and he begins to choke the pirate. Still, the man grins.

“What’s so funny?” Pan demands, fury making those two red spots appear in his eyes.

“This is,” another voice answers, and Pan loosens his grip on his enemy’s throat to follow the source of it. Tiger Lily stands before the hourglass, Killian’s cutlass in her hands. She swings the weapon at the glass with all of her strength.

“Nooo!!” Pan screeches.

The hour glass shatters, the remaining sand pouring out upon the ground. Peter Pan curls in on himself, screaming in agony. Hook feels not an ounce of compassion, however, and he looms over his enemy with a snarl upon his lips.

“You didn’t really think I would drop my weapon so easily, did you?”

Pan doesn’t answer. He throws his head back, clawing at his skin as he continues to scream. The battle between the pirates and the Lost Boys has ceased, and everyone looks on in horror as the boy who never grows up shrivels and wrinkles before their eyes, his bones weakening and contorting. With one final wail, his face seems to melt, then his entire body turns to dust.

For a moment, there is an eerie silence. Former enemies glance at one another, unsure what to do next. Then a violent wind rushes through skull rock, picking up the ashes that were once Peter Pan. A dark shadow flies in behind it, and the ashes whirl it, faster and faster and faster. The vortex sends everyone to their knees, shielding their eyes from the dust and wind. Then there’s a bright pulse of light that sends them all sprawling on their backs.

Killian’s head collides with the rocky floor and pain shoots across his forehead, his focus blurring at the edges. He thinks he sees a flurry of purple and green - wings? He blinks, but then his vision begins to dim as someone calls his name.

Emma, I’m sorry. It’s the last thought he has before he succumbs to the darkness.

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