#OuaT missing moment ff

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "Moonlit Ghosts"

I thought that for the weeks in October (and maybe even into early November) I would post some Autumn/Fall/Halloween-themed fics I've written over the years. Our particular fandom and ship has a wealth of fall/Halloween fics really, but hopefully someone might enjoy these contributions of mine - most have a few years on them now, so they might even be ones people have missed or not seen for a while...

Anyway, this first one is a little one shot with some Halloween-tinged feels. There are a few small mentions from 6a episodes of the show, but nothing major as far as spoilers. I hope you all enjoy! :)

Summary: The Storybrooke crew has enough time and peace to plan a little Autumn revelry aboard the Jolly Roger for the kids of the town. The young Author, the librarian, and Emma and Killian, work together to provide some Halloween thrills and chills as well as a haunting story...

Can also be read on AO3 or ff.net if you would prefer...

by: @snowbellewells

Moonlight trickled down a lovely, filtering illusion of brightness amidst the night's shadows, illuminating the surface of the water and glancing off the copper sides of the lanterns Belle had hung around the deck, burning low for effect. Grinning widely in spite of herself – a twinkle in her eye and a mischievous quirk to her smile, Emma Swan waited in the hall below decks, just past the stairs up from the crew and captain's quarters on the Jolly Roger, where their special guests couldn't see her. The elegant old girl bobbed gently with the rise and fall of the waves where she lay at anchor a mile or so out of Storybrooke harbor.

The children circled on the floor around Belle's seat at the stern were wide-eyed, rapt, and silent at the story she wove for them, the lights flickering intriguingly over their faces. Not a single one fidgeted or spoke, their eyes focused on the petite librarian – familiar to them in her pretty skirts and high heels from everyday life in their little town, but transfixing to them tonight in the dark, flowing garb of a gypsy, the moon and pale glow of the wavering lantern flames glancing off the golden hoops in her ears and the rings on her fingers and bracelets clanking together on her arms while she gestured in telling her story. Shadows played over the upturned little faces as well. It said something about just how immersed in the little nighttime cruise Belle and Henry had dreamed up as a fall community event, and Killian had all too enthusiastically agreed to, that even as the story of a horrible cursed monster who chose exile and his strength over love concluded and Belle paused, the sadness in her eyes only visible to those who would know to look, that they didn't recognize her story was in truth woven more from fact than fiction. Belle paused and gestured for a bashful Henry waiting in the wings to join her. Emma couldn't help but smirk even more, adoring the young man her little boy had long since become, as he flushed and looked to Violet seated at his side on an old barrel and she urged him forward with an enthusiastic grin.

Belle's natural storytelling gift had been so evident that no one else would notice she clearly needed a moment to compose herself once more and a pause to gather her still raw emotions. But she looked up at her grandson from where she sat as Henry came to stand at her side, Emma could see her mouth a "thank you" to him, which he responded to with a quick squeeze of assurance at Belle's shoulder. Soon he was beginning to read his own story, voice just a bit shaky at the start. Emma knew that Henry was more than a bit anxious, as he had not read any of his works aloud for an intended audience before, and she smiled fondly at her lanky, dark-haired son, bespectacled, and wearing his school uniform with a maroon and gold striped scarf in an effort to look like Harry Potter for his costume. He cleared his throat and his ever-deepening voice had soon wrapped them all up in his own tale, just as Belle had done before him. He will never have a more captive audience, and her maternal pride in his gift wants this moment, this recognition of his talents, for him.

Her eyes flitted over to find Killian at the helm, one arm propped on the ship's wheel, looking at ease and happy with the scene set before him. He wasn't actually steering them anywhere while they sat at anchor, but he still looked the very picture of dark, dashing pirate captain in the red vest and black leather duster he had brought back out for the occasion, appearing more dangerous Captain Hook than he had for some time. It had been all she could do not to snicker and pat him on the cheek when a few of the little girls had been too meek to talk to him upon boarding the Jolly and their wide, guileless eyes had lingered uncertainly on his curved metal appendage. Unable to bear the hurt puppy look on his face for long, however, Emma had plied him with caramel apples on sticks to hand out as snacks, and felt herself fall for him even more to watch her pirate charm and befriend every last child, even the most shy and uncertain – those ones most of all, if the truth were told.

Startled out of her reverie and the loving perusal of his face, her eyes tracing its strong, handsome lines beneath the stars, Emma's attention was pulled abruptly back to her son, focusing in on the words he was reading to make sure she didn't miss her cue. Henry's writing had set the mood perfectly; an atmospheric tale of an abandoned navy cutlass much like the one they were all on at that very moment, drifting on the open sea, empty and alone except on quiet nights when a bright full moon shone down on the ghost of the mad captain's sweetheart, a pale, white shadow haunting the deck where her faithless love and mutinous crew had all died, doomed to walk the site of her heartbreak forever.

Drawing a deep breath into her lungs and calling on every bit of poise and composure she could muster, Emma topped the steps and with measured gait began to glide across the rough wooden planks to the bow, hoping to convey the solemn, otherworldly, floating quality of a restless ghost. They had powdered her hair white earlier that afternoon, and her mother had applied thick, pale stage makeup – something that had been used in a production of The Christmas Carol at the school at some point and had then wound up with Snow – to Emma's face, neck, and hands, getting into the bonding moment of a mother helping her daughter put together a Halloween costume, even if it was a decade or so late. Those spots were all that really showed beneath the high-necked, long, bell-sleeved diaphanous gown Emma wore, which Snow had tearfully drug from some trunk in the loft when Emma had first mentioned the whole idea.

Now as she progressed the length of Killian's ship slowly and she heard him call out lowly, "Avast, me hearties, look there!" to their youthful audience and gasps of shock and surprise at the appearance began to repeat, she knew the effect was working.

She almost broke character to shoot a concerned look over her shoulder as Killian's voice sounded oddly strangled, stumbling halfway through his well-rehearsed and overly cheesy line, but he continued more softly yet. "Yonder at the bowsprit, it's the ghost of the ship's lady!" as Emma stayed her course, pausing like an eerie statue to look out over the moonlit waters.

Henry's story continued to its end, everyone playing their parts, and though she badly wanted to turn and see the children's final reactions and Henry's face at the choruses of "Again! Tell it again!" and the hearty clapping, she didn't want to break the illusion.

It was only when she heard Belle announce it was time for popcorn and hot apple cider below in a real pirate's galley, where both her parents waited to serve the refreshments dressed as a ship's cook and first mate, and Emma heard the excited hoots and hollers of excitement and all the pairs of little feet moving to follow Belle's lead, herded at the rear by Henry and Violet, both blushing and Violet clearly impressed, moving to the stairs below deck, that she ventured a glance behind her and relaxed her stance to lean against the ship's railing.

She was startled when she did so to find Killian right at her back, a tormented look of pain emblazoned across his face. "Killian, wha – " she began to ask, concern creasing her brow, fingers reaching up to brush soothingly across the scar on his cheek. The movement was aborted and her words knocked from her by the fierce way he lurched forward and clutched her to himself tightly. His grip was almost desperate, and Emma's confusion and concern only grew as he held on, the trembling in his wiry frame plainly felt throughout her own and his heart pounding as though he had run for miles to reach her. Though she couldn't really think what it was, she knew now that the distressed note she had heard in his voice during the story, that catch which had made her think something was wrong, had been all too real.

Finally, he released his grip a bit, took a step back and tilted his head to stare into her eyes. "Emma, love, I just…" he sucked in a ragged breath, eyes wide and almost wild, as he pulled her in again, whispering against her hair "I just need to hold you for a moment. Seeing you that way – as a wraith, a shade – it ran my blood cold. I was not prepared for that."

It nearly stole the breath from Emma's lungs to see the raw anguish on her True Love's face. For a second, it genuinely did look as though Killian had seen a ghost, and Emma's heart ached for him at the fear she knew had been awakened once more, that he would again lose the one person he loved most in the world. There wasn't a thing she could do to take the awful, sinking sensation away, but she tried all the same. Running her fingers through the gentle curls at the nape of his neck, she aimed to soothe, squeezing his back and whispering, "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, I promise. It's just a costume. You saw it earlier."

He shook his head, the strangled little noise in his throat twisting her gut in sympathy. "I know that, Swan. But that for a moment…you were so pale, almost unreal… for a moment it seemed as if you were already gone…"

She merely nodded, running her hands up and down his spine and out over his shoulder blades; anxious to provide even a bit of calm. Slowly, she felt the tremors between them begin to subside. Killian blew out a deep breath, and Emma could sense him steadying himself and bringing himself back under control.

Resting his forehead against her, Killian placed his hook under her chin, fingers smoothing her windswept hair back off her face in a gentle caress. "I cannot lose you, Emma," he whispered hoarsely, voice controlled once more but still fervently sincere, wobbling the slightest bit as he added, "I won't survive it, not this time."

Shaking her head, Emma reached across to press her hand over his heart, eyes drinking in his beloved face and swearing with all she had, willing both her love and herself to believe. "You won't have to, Killian. We'll find that third way."

He nodded, rubbing her upper arms to chafe warmth back into them in the chilly night air off the open water. For several long minutes, neither of them spoke, merely stared into each other's eyes – not wanting to lose the soft moment together, however it had come about, and turning to look out over the waves back to the lights of Storybrooke in the distance. Then, laughter and the rush of exuberant voices began to drift toward them again as their young charges began to climb back above deck for the short voyage home.

Reminded that they weren't alone and their passengers needed returned from their Halloween excursion, Emma gave one last squeeze of the hand to her pirate, whispering quickly before moving to help get them underway. "It's because of you that I finally know we deserve this future together," she vowed, "and I intend to have it."

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @sotangledupinit @once-upon-a-pirate-ship @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @bluewildcatfanatic @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @resident-of-storybrooke @drowned-dreamer @blackwidownat2814 @bdevereaux @caught-in-the-filter @darkcolinodonorgasm @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper @anmylica @kazoosandfannypacks @booksteaandtoomuchtv @xarandomdreamx @stahlop @justanother-unluckysoul @wefoundloveunderthelight @artistic-writer

[snowbellewells]

@spartanguard Oh wow, I am ridiculously late in getting a chance to read and reblog this lovely little birthday fic, but it was truly sweet and touching and really a just right sort of treat to enjoy this Saturday morning!! I loved that Emma had taken the trouble to find Killian’s true birthday and went out of her way to mark it, and to show him how much his presence matters. And not only to her either, but also to his extended Charming family.

It makes me a bit teary-eyed to think that really neither he or David were exactly sure when they had been born and that both have probably not been celebrated as they should have been over the years, but that is true for Killian especially. No wonder his bro’s heartfelt words bring up the lump in his throat there towards the end.

The memory he has of his mother and at least how he knew the season of his birth was both lovely and heartbreaking as well. I do like that he at least has that little bit of memory though after so many years, and when he hadn’t really even felt it mattered. But that his True Love has now given him many more precious memories to mark his birthday is the perfect way to end this little story, even if their still many more years left to celebrate in their adventure together!

Thanks for sharing this with us!!

an important date

it's Friday and it's Colin's birthday....I had to do something!! Just a bit of a post-canon Captain Charming scene, inspired by this prompt: "We both meet at the bar at a birthday party but we don’t even know who’s birthday it is. I think it’s yours, you think it’s mine." 1.1k, rated T | AO3

The Rabbit Hole was…well, the Rabbit Hole—its usual divy self. It wasn’t where Killian would typically expect to find David, least of all on the prince’s birthday.

At least—he thought that’s what Emma had said? She’d all but shoved him out of the station that evening, with the direction to meet her father here for a “birthday drink”. Of the birth dates he’d memorized (and would never forget—Emma’s, Henry’s, Hope’s), he realized he was severely lacking when it came to his in-laws.

But perhaps David’s would be easier to remember, given its proximity to his own. Or, rather, when he thought his own was; the actual date was long since lost to time, realm travel, and changing calendars, and it had been centuries since he’d actually done anything to mark the date, but he remembered it being in spring. 

Really the only fond memory he had of the day was picking fresh wildflowers with his mother, the light scent filling their small house, and the sweet taste of the modest cake she’d baked. When the hyacinth began to bloom in Storybrooke, he was always taken back to that day, and generally used that milestone to mark the passing of his years—but he’d lived enough of them that he needed no extra celebration or recognition.

As it was, the first shoots of spring had only just begun to emerge, so by his math, that put David’s birthday—or whatever today was—a few weeks ahead of his own. Good to know.

He scanned the bar for his mate—squinting a bit harder than he’d like to admit in the dim light (further evidence of the passage of time, he presumed)—almost missing him at the far end of the counter, until David waved at him.

“Evening, mate,” he greeted as he slid onto the barstool next to his father-in-law. “Not your typical scene, eh?” he added, nodding towards the rest of the bar, where all manner of seedy goings-on (well, as much as ever happened in Storybrooke) were happening—things the deputy sheriff should probably be concerned with, but he was off the clock (and had no room to talk).

David shrugged. “I’ve been known to pass the occasional night here—cursed and not cursed. Having royalty around seems to keep things calm.”

“Aye, but you’ve never been here with a pirate,” he winked back, even if it had been ages since he’d anything resembling a rowdy night. The most exciting his had been lately were the times that they managed to get a teething Hope down early enough to squeeze in some intimacy, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Emma’s father.

“No,” David agreed. “But I figured I could manage for one night. To mark the occasion and all.”

“Aye; it does warrant that. My apologies for not knowing the date sooner—happy birthday, Dave.”

But instead of the customary thanks, David just tilted his head at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

Bloody hell—had he misheard Emma? “We’re here to celebrate your day of birth, are we not?”

“No; my birthday is in July—so now I kind of am offended,” David replied, though his tone was light. “Wait—did Emma not tell you?”

“She told me to meet you here for a birthday drink—I assumed that meant it was yours.”

“No, man—it’s yours.”

“Come again?” He’d never so much as commented to anyone, including Emma, the whereabouts of birth date; so how would either of them, least of all David, have known?

David explained, “Remember near the end of her pregnancy, when her magic was kind of overpowered and she was trying to release it?” How could Killian forget? He spent a whole week with blue hair, and trying to keep Pop-Tarts from flying around the house. “Apparently during that, she was trying out a bunch of easy, informational spells; there was one about revealing birthdates. Turned out mine was off by a couple of days. But yeah, she did yours, too; she never mentioned it?”

Killian was momentarily speechless. Not out of betrayal or anything—things were rather chaotic leading up to Hope’s birth, so he didn’t blame Emma for letting it slip her mind—but moreso that it had been able to be determined.

And, despite the last several years being filled with things such as True Love, marriages, and more family than he’d ever imagined having, he was still touched by the idea that anyone cared enough about him to know the date he’d entered this world (or whichever world it was)—and even more that they wanted to acknowledge it. 

“Uh, no,” he said, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. “I seem to recall her pregnancy brain was pretty bad then,” he quipped, hoping to lighten the moment. “So—really? Today?”

“Today,” David confirmed. Killian thought back to the wildflowers—then recalled that he grew up in a far warmer climate than Maine’s, perhaps the reason for his miscalculation.

(Also: he now understood why Emma had woken him with morning sex that day. That was never something he’d question, though—and also something he wouldn’t dare mention in present company.)

The barkeep then set two glasses of amber liquid in front of David. He slid one across the worn wood to Killian, then raised his own. “Happy birthday, Killian. To the best son-in-law—best friend—a man could ask for.”

Killian clinked his glass against David’s and quickly took a sip, hoping it might wash down the lump that had formed in his throat. Alas, it didn’t—but at least it was there with good reason. “Thank you, mate; and, uh, the feeling is mutual.” It wasn’t often words escaped him, so hopefully his father-in-law picked up on the weight of the emotion in his voice; he tried to find David’s eyes, but was overcome with an odd bashfulness he hadn’t felt since youth.

David just gave a gentle chuckle and a solid, brotherly thump on the shoulder, before attempting to down his own shot of rum—which brought on laughter of a different kind, but it broke the bit of tension. 

They shared another drink after (whiskey; far more palatable to the prince), before leaving to their respective princesses—and sharing perhaps a stronger embrace than Killian had originally intended, but it was certainly called for. 

As sweet as his memories from childhood were, it was nice to add this one to the collection of birthday remembrances—the first in so long. (And, as he eventually found, not the last—not by a long shot—in the many years to come.)

(However, he still refused, in all those celebrations, to tell David the way Emma preferred to mark the occasion.)

-----------------------------💙💙-------------------------------

[thanks for reading, and happy Captain Charming Friday! tags below cut]

@optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @cocohook388 @kmomof4 @kat2609 @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @annytecture @phiralovesloki @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows @wingedlioness @word-bug @thisonesatellite @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich​ @athenascarlet @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke [let me know if you do/don't want tags!]

[sambethe]

CS FF: Hush

A/N: I wrote a little something for the CS Storybook, Volume 2. I opted for a missing scene that falls at the end of Dark Hollow and before the events of Think Lovely Thoughts picks up. @gingerchangeling did a lovely little piece of Emma sitting by the fire to accompany it - go check it out here!

Summary: Emma just needs a break, figuratively and metaphorically. Hook may be the one to give it to her.

Words: 1400 | Rated: gen | ao3

+++

It’s another day down, and another night with Henry out there, alone. It’s enough to make Emma want to steal Neal’s lighter and burn the island down. Take her – take Neal’s - cutlass and hack a path to Henry. Instead she distracts herself by poking at the fire in front of her, watching the embers spark and pop as she disturbs them with the stick she pulled from the brush earlier.

From the corner of her eye she can see Mary Margaret roll out her bedding next to David’s. They still don’t seem to be talking, exactly, but there's a thaw between them. They have once again slid back into that practiced ease of theirs, moving around and with one another seamlessly. It both warms her heart and makes her burn with jealousy. Leaves her with a whole host of what ifs that she tamps down brutally before they can take up residence in her chest, where she is already too full of wants and worries for Henry.

Emma wishes she could say the same of her and Neal. He’s been quiet since they returned from the hollow and set up the night’s camp, curling up on his own bedroll, his back to the fire – and all of them. She doesn’t know whether to huff a sigh and roll her eyes, or hit him in the chest and tell him to get it together. Petulance isn’t what she needs from anyone at this point. She’s feeling enough of it herself.

She meant what she said back in Echo Cave. It would be easier to put everything with him behind her. She doesn’t want face all of it again, doesn’t want to think about the way every part of her cracks when she sees his face. How the ache forms in her chest and begins to gnaw once more, a steady reminder that she has never been enough for someone stay.

But if Neal being here, being back, means there’s a chance Henry doesn’t have to grow up without him, she would face that age-old ache and then some. Because she’ll be damned if Henry ever has to spend one moment more wondering if he matters, to her or anyone else.

Then there’s Hook.

She stabs at the fire again, sliding the stick deep into the embers, shifting them around even when she knows she should leave them be. He shifts behind her as she does, ducking beneath some branches at the edge of the clearing. She wars with herself about whether she should ask, and the words slip from her mouth before she’s realized she’s made up her mind.

“Where are you going?”

She keeps herself from turning as she asks, though, not wanting to see the hint of a smirk on his face or the teasing lift of his eyebrow. She can hear him pause, the swish of his overlong coat fading, and she wonders if he’s turned back towards her or if he, too, refuses to look.

“There’s a river nearby, thought I would get us some fresh water.”

She turns at that point and finds him with the straps of a few canteens wrapped around his hand. Before he can move further, she stands, brushing dirt from her pants.

He waves her off. “You don’t have to. I’ll be back in a tic.”

Not answering, she grabs the cutlass from the top her own bedroll and moves past him. “Let’s go,” she grunts, hacking at the brush in front of her despite the fact they had cleared it away on their way in.

They aren’t more than a few steps from the clearing when his hand wraps around her wrist, stilling her before she can raise her arm for another useless swipe. She glares back at him but doesn’t shrug him off.

“How about we try for a quieter approach?” he asks, one finger rubbing at the side of her wrist. “Not attract any Lost Boys unnecessarily?”

His thumb at her pulse point makes her want to lean back, to sink against him, but she catches herself before she follows that instinct. Slowly rolling her shoulder, she steps forward. Hook drops her hand and steps past her with a nod, taking the path that forks to the right. He doesn’t look to see if she’s followed and she wants to roll her eyes at that, but falls into line behind him instead.

They are quiet as they walk, allowing the sounds of the crickets and cicadas to settle around them. At least she imagines them to be crickets and cicadas. She doesn’t want to ask and risk finding out that even the bugs on this island are the stuff of childhood nightmares. It isn’t long before the trickle of water joins the chirping, and after another bend, the overgrown path dead ends into small river.

Hook drops the canteens to the ground along the bank and shrugs off his coat. She stands at the edge of the water. The quiet that surrounds them is almost soothing. If she closes her eyes, she can almost pretend they are back in Storybrooke. Home and safe, or whatever counts for that there.

“Take off your shoes, love.”

“Huh?”

Emma turns back to find he has shed his vest as well, leaving him in his thin, billowy shirt. His boots are discarded and he’s rolled up the ends of his pants, exposing his ankles and shins. She’s not sure if she’s ever seen this much of his skin and she’s sure she’s staring with her mouth hanging open.

If she is though, he ignores it and nods to the water as he takes a step forward. “The water runs warm. When nights go cold like this one, it’s a good respite.”

“You came out here to play in the water?”

“There’s nothing more we can do for Henry tonight, and we are no good to your boy if we haven’t rested. This...” He reaches his arm out and gestures for her to join him. “This allows me to relax. Come, try it.”

She narrows her eyes and drops a hand to her hip.

“Swan.”

The way her drawls her name sends a shiver through her that she tries hard to ignore. Rather than answer, she rolls her eyes, but lifts a leg so she can remove her boot. She does the same with her other foot and then leans down to roll up her pants. Hook is smiling by the time she is done and encourages her out into the water.

He’s right, not that she wants to tell him that, and for a brief moment she wishes the water was deep enough to dunk herself in. Then she shakes away the thought. She doesn’t want to think about the last time she’s had a shower, or have a reminder of just how long it has been since Henry was home and safe.

After a few minutes, Hook moves back to the river bank, settling down on the soft grass there, stretching out to leave his feet at the water’s edge. She watches him, drawn to the way the bones of his ankle stand out, the lines and sinews of them tempting. The hair of his legs stops just above the knob of bone, and her fingers itch to follow the swirls of it in the same way he held her wrist earlier.

She stops herself though, sitting down next to him and purposely leaving a decent gap of space between them. Her fingers tangle through the grass beneath them, and she tugs a bit but not enough to pull it up. Keeping her attention at her hand, she quietly asks, “Can you tell me again?”

“What’s that?”

“That we’ll find Henry? That we’ll keep him safe?”

She slaps her toes against the surface of the water, enjoying the small beads that land on the tops of her feet and how their warmth seeps into her skin. Hook extends a foot towards hers, poking at her ankle with his big toe until she finally relents and looks at him.

“You’ll get your boy back, love, of that I’ve never been more sure.”

He then turns towards her, stretching one foot over his extended leg, planting it on the ground and creating a bridge with his leg as he lies down on his side. He props his head in his hand, his hook lying between them.

She shifts to face him and gives him a small smile. “We should go back,” she says, closing her eyes.

“Hush,” he whispers. “We’ve time, just rest.”

[onceuponaprincessworld]

CaptainSwan One-Two-Three Shots FF Rec p.7

Hello Beautiful Fandom, in anticipation of tonight’s episode with hopefully lots of CaptainSwan moments I made a new list.  So, I present to you the second list with one-two-three/forth shots but also the seventh list of  one-shots in total. Tell me what you think! Hope you enjoy.

If you liked it you can also check the first part of one-two-three shots here, and my other lists here.

P.S I try to tag the authors by their tumblr url but I haven’t found some, if you know it, let me know!

ONE SHOTS

The Rise and Fall of the Storybrooke Book Club, @phiralovesloki

Killian Jones is sure, beyond a reasonable doubt, that joining Belle's book club is a huge mistake and a waste of time. But he should know better than to judge a book (club) by its cover.

Waterfalling in Love, @acaptainswaneternity

Emma Swan goes on a trip with her friends but she finds out she has to share the room with the guy she likes.

Handy Helpers, @the-captains-ayebrows

Emma Swan's building has gone co-op and now she's forced to fix up her apartment on a tiny budget, but with the Handy Helpers, she may just get more than she bargained for. Otherwise known as: Captain Charming as handymen. A CS Modern AU with a side of Snowing and Ruby being Ruby.

all the ways that matter,  @captainnagata

“I made an appointment with Planned Parenthood,” she tells him, making sure to end her sentence on a high note so it sounds like she doesn’t really ended her sentence. As with most things, Killian gets it. “You want me to come with you?”

Hail to the Chief, @allrightfine

It does turn out, however, that helping that politician often comes with free pizza and that sleeping in the campaign office — whether or not it's because you don't have anywhere else to go — is the mark of a dedicated volunteer. (presidential campaign AU, with speechwriter-Killian and volunteer-Emma!)

What If?, @dassala

Killian Jones comes to the rescue with rocky road and comfort during Emma's latest breakup.

I've Had Worse, @nowforruin

Another birthday, another trip to the ER. It's all fairly routine when it comes to life for Emma Swan, but there is nothing routine about Dr. Killian Jones.

A Pirate Comes to Pemberley,  @mryddinwilt

Years ago Miss Emma Nolan of Pemberley was left heartbroken by the unfaithful Neal Cassidy. Now an older and wiser young woman a chance meeting with the scandalous Captain Killian Jones leaves her determined to not make the same mistake. A OUAT AU fused with Pride & Prejudice where David and Snow are Lizzy and Darcy and Emma is Georgiana. A long one shot!

The Message, @kat2609

Emma Swan thought she was right to stop this thing with Killian Jones going too far - anything to keep their friendship intact for her and her son Henry. But when it looks as though he may have moved on, she is no longer sure she made the right decision... (This was previously in my Whenever, Wherever group but I decided to give it its own story.

There's No Place Like Home, @everlastingcaptainswan

When Emma Swan's relationship ends badly she lands on her brother's doorstep. Only to find that their friend Killian Jones has moved in with David and Mary Margaret. Will close proximity with Killian bring up feelings Emma buried long ago or will she keep denying any feelings she has for him?

Fake Your Death, @literatiruinedme

Hospital attendings au

TWO SHOTS

Two Minutes for Hooking, @always-a-slut-for-pirates

Emma Swan, a member of the newly formed professional women's hockey league, has a chance meeting with hockey all-star Killian Jones after an aggravating loss.

Chasing Thursdays, @nowforruin

Elsa has no desire to follow in her politician mother’s footsteps and Emma wants to quit working at Granny’s. They decide to open Frozen and take advantage of the summer tourist season, but Emma doesn’t count on their neighbor, tattoo artist Killian Jones, showing up every single Thursday for more than just ice cream.

Quick Prompt (½) &(2/2), @blessed-but-distressed

Friends to Lovers in a Small Town

Untitled & p.2, @distant-rose

High School AU

The Not So Neighborly Noise, @optomisticgirl

After an exhausting day, one which started with her annoying neighbor waking her up with his singing, all Emma Swan wanted to do was sleep. Little did she know when she crawled into bed that night that everything she thought she knew was going to shift dramatically. Can a closed off woman give a man a chance to prove her wrong?

OUAB99 & OUAB99 (pt.2), @thesschesthair

Captain swan in Brooklyn 99 scenes.

Inbox (1), @captainnagata

She knows him, more or less, the way she knows all her mutual followers – the online equivalent of nodding at each other in the hallways – and so knows he particularly likes to reblog seaside landscapes and history posts. So when she sees the post – nothing but a “charleia, reblog if you agree” that has 8 notes – and sees that it’s coming from him, she can barely hide her surprise. Because, really, what are the odds that some random guy on Tumblr would read the exact same book at the exact same time, only to share her feelings about some obscure couple? The odds aren’t that good, and yet…

THREE/FOURTH SHOTS

But Darling, @herfairy

AU: Breaking and entering is a crime, no matter the intentions, but Emma knew she would freeze to death if she didn't do something.

Never Hurts, @laschatzi

based on the following prompt: “we’re co workers who hate each other but you had too much to drink at the staff christmas party and admitted your love for me I don’t know how to act around you now”

Hit me with your best shot,  StrawberryFields4ever

AU Three-Shot. Emma is a tough, sarcastic bartender who replaces love with hard work and is perfectly fine with that lifestyle. Until she meets the cocky singer hired to play in the pub she works in.

Remember This Moment With Me, @cutieodonoghue

The one where Emma's in prison but Killian's waiting for her when she gets out.

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Father Figure”

This week’s little one shot is chosen in honor of Father’s Day, and the sweet surrogate father-son relationship that developed between Killian and Henry as the show went on. It was originally written in late season six, around the time of the CS wedding, and so is meant to be fairly canon compliant, more of a missing moment sort of fic. There are some elements that diverge, but most it’s just something I envisioned having happened that we didn’t get to see. I hope you will enjoy - now with cover art!

Also available on AO3 or ff.net as part of my one shots collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts”

by: @snowbellewells​ 

The morning of the wedding had begun in a troubling wet, dreary grey of rain drizzle, but by mid-afternoon the clouds had slowly parted and sunlight was peeking through their wispy, tattered remnants with gaining strength.  Killian Jones had stood for some time, uncaring if he got a bit wet, staring over the water from the side of the Jolly, hoping deep in his heart of hearts that they would not have to change the venue for their nuptials.  He would of course rather that than see the occasion dampened or have to postpone it even a day longer, but he had truly hoped to pledge his troth to his True Love while standing on the sturdy boards of his previous truest love; the old girl who had been his home and companion for centuries.   

 Once the day began to dry, Killian had gone below to his cabin and started getting dressed.  The dark suit with its soft, well-made material felt transformative against his skin, whispering as it brushed across his flesh that today was infinitely special.  Today began the rest of his life – the happiest and best part.  And in a town where magic was all around at most given moments, that this day would still have a magic all its own was truly saying something.  Emma Swan – the Princess of Misthaven, the Savior – loved him, and today she would promise to spend the rest of her life with him, as he would her.  As he shrugged into the waistcoat over the button up dress shirt, and deftly did its fastenings one-handed as well, Killian caught a glimpse of himself looking conspicuously misty-eyed in the reflection of the looking glass in the corner.  It was true that is some ways, ever since Neverland – no, perhaps even since Lake Nostos and the beanstalk – he had been pledging himself to Emma every day; still, the culmination of his deepest wish seemed more than he could possibly deserve.      

  He was interrupted then from his preparations and reverie by a quiet knock on the cabin door.  Just as well, Killian thought wryly, eying the bow tie laid out with the suit jacket on his bunk.  There had been little chance he would be able to secure said article – he’d never even worn one before – without someone’s help, and now such aid was presenting itself.

His heart warmed, smile deepening when the voice that called his name proved to be Henry, asking if he could come in.  “Aye,” Killian answered Swan’s boy affectionately, waving him forward when the teen’s face appeared around the edge of the sturdy wood.  “Come in.  I’m always glad to have you aboard, Lad, you know that.”

Henry nodded, but cleared his throat nervously and looked more than a bit uneasy as he shuffled his feet forward into the room.

Killian was momentarily concerned at the young man’s bearing – surely if something were wrong, if something had happened to Emma, he would know; he would feel it.  There had been nothing from their fae nemesis this day, and he had hoped to have this one occasion without fight or interruption, but he wouldn’t put it past the malicious Stiltskin matriarch to make her presence known even now.  He was halfway across his cabin to the bracket under the window where he had carefully stowed his sword, ready to take it up again in service of his Swan, when Henry finally spoke.

As he did, and as Killian turned to listen to the young man about to officially become his stepson, Killian noticed for the first time that the Author also carried a book in his hand.  It was not his usual storybook, the huge brown leather bound one bearing all their past tales in the Enchanted Forest, but a smaller black one the pirate had never seen before.

“Killian,” Henry started again, voice still soft and somewhat hesitant as he moved closer, finally coming to stand face-to-face with the man who had become supporter, confidante and sometime partner-in-crime to him – in some ways, the most constant father figure he’d known.  He held his hand out, with the handsome new book in it, offering it to Killian.  “In this realm, they sometimes give the guy getting married something.  It’s called a groom’s gift.  So… anyway… I just wanted to give you this,” he offered, meeting Killian’s eyes fleetingly and then dropping his gaze again with a sheepish flush to his cheeks.  “It’s not much really… but I… I wanted you to have it.  It’s our story.”

The pirate’s eyes shot up to Henry’s, awed emotion flowing through him and having to see into the face of this extraordinary young man he loved as his very own to make sure he was really hearing what he thought.  “Truly?” he finally choked out, arching an eyebrow despite himself, his voice low and rougher than normal, but struck deeply by the gesture that Henry was making.

Henry chuckled a bit then, as if Killian’s sincere gratitude and affection made him more at ease with the gift he had given.  “Aye,” the youth mocked Hook now in his answer, and they both seemed unable to stop the silly grins spreading across their faces.

“Well then, thank you, m’boy,” Killian spoke solemnly, clasping Henry’s shoulder warmly and merely drinking in the moment, stunned that his long, tangled lifeline had brought him here with this young man, a chance at a family he would have never imagined coming to him again.

Killian took the gift, holding it in his hand and running his thumb over the smooth cover reverently.  Curious, he almost flipped it open to see what Henry had put down, but as if reading his mind, the lad stepped forward, shaking his head.  Cheeks flushed again, Henry’s grasp on Killian’s forearm stilled his motion to open and begin reading.  “No!  Don’t read it now while I’m standing here!” the teen exclaimed in humored exasperation.

Smirking only slightly, Killian conceded, “As you wish,” with an affectionate nod of deference to Henry’s wishes.  Sitting the book on his bunk for the moment, he turned back to the lad seriously before pressing on.  “I shall wait until later to peruse your fine gift.  But… if I may – perchance you might do one more thing for me?”  Reddening a bit himself, Killian gestured to the undone bow tie where he had discarded it atop the desk by his mirror, his awkward all-done-up collar, and gave his stepson a lopsided smile. “If you could be so kind?”

Shaking his head, Henry nodded and stepped forward, releasing a good natured snort of laughter at Killian’s expense, but lightly reaching out and putting the ensemble together as best he knew how, much like his Grandpa David had shown him to do his own.

When he had finished, the teen gave his soon-to-be stepdad a once over, smiling once more at the man he had come to look up to, who loved his mom and made her smile, who had taught him sailor’s knots and navigation by the stars, and how to manage his algebra homework.  This man had always had his back.  Even when Henry himself had been too stubborn to see, Killian had wanted the best for him, as any father would.  Though he would always miss his birth father and wish they had gotten more time together, Henry was struck suddenly by how his father figure had been there all along; he had never been truly without.  Dropping his hands from the slightly crooked but still fastened bow tie, Henry lunged forward to hug Captain Hook – their pirate – tightly in a swell of gratitude and love.

Killian was stunned still for several beats of time, blinking rapidly at the tears which welled up at Henry’s tight embrace and obvious acceptance, but he quickly recovered and hugged Swan’s boy back just as firmly, clasping him close for several long moments.  When they parted, there were conspicuous snuffles and bashful half smiles on both their parts, but also a new understanding of just how gladly and irrevocably they were family now.

A text buzzed through for Henry then, and he pulled out his talking phone as Killian watched.  “Grandma needs me for some decoration issue,” Henry said.  “So, are we all set, Captain?”

“Aye,” Killian affirmed with a wide grin and quick nod.  “I’ll see you again shortly…at the altar.”

~~*~~

After Henry had dashed off, Killian moved to his bunk once more, fully ready for the ceremony that was only a little over an hour away.  Before he headed above deck though, he was anxious to look at the gift his stepson had brought him.

Taking a seat on the edge of his bed, Killian picked up the book, opened to the first page, and began to read:

            “Once there was a little boy with an old soul and a heavy heart.  Though he believed in heroes and good and fairy tales, he didn’t know if anyone really loved him or where he truly belonged.

            There was also, once upon a time, a man who had lived for centuries, but had lost his boyhood much too soon. He was alone in the world with nothing and no one to live for.

            In truth, the two should never have met.  But meet they did, and the story of how it came to be, brought love and joy back into both of their lives…”

Killian kept reading, through a sheen of happy tears, all the way to the end; the warmth in his heart spreading throughout his whole body until he felt it might escape in beams of light from his fingers and toes.  He could hardly wait to thank Henry for this precious gift, and though words would not fully express it, attempt to tell the lad how much it meant to him. 

Neither of them had lived through very happy starts, but they were now embarking on their happy ending at last…

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @cosette141 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @xsajx @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @sotangledupinit @anmylica @motherkatereloyshipper​ @gingerchangeling​ @gingerpolyglot​ @tiganasummertree​ @optomisticgirl​ @spartanguard​ @therooksshiningknight​ @xarandomdreamx​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @ineffablecolors​ 

[snowbellewells]

@welllpthisishappening This was a lovely fic to read right off this morning. I love the spit in canon you chose to start this from (Why didn’t we get to see them order takeout and cuddle up by the fire and just talk without interruption in canon?!?) Thank you for finally giving us - and then- that chance to decompress and heal.

I love how you write these calmer, everyday domestic moments between Killian and Emma, and how real and grounding they feel l, despite the fairytale world still swirling all around them. Even as Emma’s vision of the hooded threat and the weight of those shears hanging over them, it still has a sweet and cozy and lovely quality to it as a whole story. You sense Emma has too much she still wants to know and experience with Killian to let things be cut short now.

There are tons of lovely passages here - too many to pick a single favorite, but it deserves to be said all the same. Thanks so much for gifting us with this missing moment! ❤️❤️❤️

falling feels like flying ['til the bone crush]

Someone should revoke her title. 

They’re trying, Emma supposes. Inevitable death probably means people can’t call her savior anymore, but they shouldn’t call her that now and that’s almost entirely because of what an absolute and complete liar she is. Telling Killian she would have done the same after he admitted he didn’t get rid of the shears isn’t her most massive lie, although it might be her most ridiculous. And they both know it’s not true. She wouldn’t do the same thing, she has. More than once. 

AN: That gif has nothing to do with the story! Here is approximately 3.5K where I once again force Emma and Killian to acknowledge their trauma. Not in the Underworld this time, though! So maybe we’re all evolving here. I blame this gif set, which I saw this morning and felt compelled to write something about. Maybe that evolution is also a lie, actually. 

———

“I lied.” Killian hums, exhaustion clinging to the sound, and Emma understands that. Less so why she’s talking right now, but neither one of those words seemed particularly interested in preserving the quiet calm of this particular moment, and she’s never been a lightweight quite like this. In more ways than one, she supposes. Hazy thoughts drift through her brain, muddled as it is by buttered rum and the steady flicker of flames in the fireplace because naturally this is the sort of house that has multiple fireplaces, and she burrows her face closer. 

To Killian’s chest. 

Takes a deep breath, not quite slow, but maybe a little greedy, and they ordered both things. Pizza and Chinese, half-finished egg rolls and beheaded slices of cheese with extra peppers strewn across the coffee table because Emma always likes that extra bit of crust and Killian’s nothing if not a frustratingly endearing sort of pushover. 

With her, especially. 

She closes her eyes. 

“I lied,” Emma repeats, “in the hospital, I mean. Wrong verb tense.” “You’re not making any sense at all, darling.”

Her nose must be cold — if the way Killian tenses as soon as it brushes his skin is any indication, but Emma knows it’s far more than that and far deeper than that and she might be the world’s biggest idiot. Looming death does that to a person, she supposes. 

Breathing isn’t particularly easy. And that’s not only because she ate four pizza slices worth of crust. Still, using death as an excuse again seems like an emotional crutch and an unreasonable reason, her muddled mind capable of clinging to every single letter in that particular endearment. It might be her favorite. 

She’s not sure she’s ever told him that. 

Stupid, really. 

Keep reading

[hollie47]

Thanks to @wardinpanties for tagging me!

Author Name:

Hollie47 on both Ao3 and ff (formerly Beautiful_Nightmare on Ao3)

Fandoms You Write For:

Once Upon A Time, Star Wars, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Doctor Who, Riverdale

Where You Post:

Ao3 and ff

Most Popular Oneshot:

Force Bond: The Feel of Her Body (Reylo – Star Wars)

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story:

Frozen In Time (RedQueen – OUAT)

Favorite Story You Wrote:

Missing Pieces (Star Wars)

Story You Were Nervous to Post:

All of them, literally

How Do You Pick Your Titles:

The titles usually come to me once I have an outline done

Do You Outline:

I sure do, I’d be lost without one

How Many of Your Stories are Complete:

All bar one Harry Potter fic I wrote 8 years ago

In-Progress:

None at the moment

Coming Soon:

I have a TyZula fanfic, I See Fire, coming out hopefully after the next Camp NaNo.  I also have a few scribbles down to start a Tanith Low/China Sorrows fic as well

Do You Accept Prompts:

I happily accept prompts if they are for something I watch, brownie points if it is for a couple I ship

Upcoming Story You’re the Most Excited For:

I See Fire (TyZula – ATLA)

Tag Five Fanfic Authors to Answer These Questions

 @foxofthedesert @letswreakhavoc @altheterrible and anyone else who wants to do this 

[vanillatwilight17]

A New Beginning

Summary: A year after their happy beginning started, Emma and Killian discover they have a baby on the way and face a brand new beginning together as parents.

Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT, CS, or any of the characters this is all for fun!

Link to FF.net (chapter 2 is up on FF!) https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12513116/1/A-New-Beginning

Chapter 1: 2-1 =3

A year of a quiet, normal life. That is what had been granted to Emma and Killian Jones since they said their vows on the rooftops of Granny's. Well, after that whole final battle, black fairy, curse bullshit. They had gone on an amazing honeymoon together once they were sure, or as sure as you could be in Storybrooke that nothing bad, evil, wicked, or dark was going to happen. They had set sail on the Jolly Roger all the way down the coast of the United States and around the Caribbean and back. The trip had taken about a month and Emma was pretty sure it was the best thirty days of her life. Aside from missing her son terribly (nothing a nightly facetime couldn't fix though), the entire trip was perfect. She had been reluctant to leave for such a long period of time. What if the town needed saving? But her parents, Regina, Zelena, and Gold all assured her they could handle anything that came their way and truth be told she was long overdue for a vacation. So off the newlyweds set sail and for the first time since Henry had brought her to Storybrooke there was nothing threating her or her family, no curse causing everyone to forget things or separate them into separate realms. It was just husband and wife, enjoying the prospect of a new future together.

Now as Emma sat on the counter in the bathroom, eyes going back and forth between the timer on her phone and the pregnancy test next to her, she was coming to terms with the idea that this new routine of calm, peaceful, day to day life she and Killian had molded so easily into could be quickly coming to a close. They had talked about this once, drunk off rum and each other while floating off the coast of Barbados during their honeymoon. They were lying together on a hammock strung up on deck. She had her head resting on his chest, with his arm around her as they sipped straight out of a bottle of local island spirits they had picked up that day. They were going back and forth talking about their new future together and where they saw themselves going in the years to come. It was Killian that brought it up. It came after he had mentioned trading her "yellow metal death trap on wheels" for a nice family car. She playfully swatted at his chest.

"First of all don't talk about my baby like that! Second of all, in what realm would we trade in the bug for a family car?" Emma joked, throwing back a swig of rum.

"For the safety of an actual baby." He replied to her. She spit out the rum she had just drunk and turned to face him.

"Excuse me? Do you know something I don't know?" Emma asked.

"I'm sorry love, I shouldn't have brought it up. You've got Henry and I'm sure at this point in your life another child is the farthest thing from your mind, it's just ever since the prophecy of the final battle and thinking about our future, I always see this little girl, spitting image of her gorgeous mother running around the house. I know I should have talked to you about it first, just forget I said anything." Killian got up and started to walk away looking like a kid who just found out Santa wasn't real. She certainly was taken back but not in the way he thought. Truth was, he wasn't the only one who had these thoughts.

"Why can't it be a little boy who looks just like you? More importantly why can't we just get another car instead of getting rid of mine?" She said sitting up in the hammock.

"Wait, you would want to have another child?" He asked turning back to her.

"It has been a thought in my mind ever since I saw you with Alexandra that day at Granny's. You were so natural with her and you are an incredible with Henry and my brother and whenever I see you with them I just always picture you with our child. I never thought about having more kids until you came into my life and this new beginning we have became a reality. I just always assumed something would get in the way and prevent it from happening but I would definitely say that's something we can put on the to do list." Killian ran over and kissed her passionately.

"Whenever you want to love just say the word." He said through kisses.

"One day there shall be a little pirate running around this deck, right now, I just want you all to myself." Emma returned his kisses and as clothes were shed so was the idea of their little pirate.

That was until last night when Emma finally put two and two together. For the past three weeks she had been nauseas, throwing up, exhausted, things smelled weird, the smallest things made her emotional. It wasn't until she had been in the grocery store shopping for the week telling Henry to go and grab some popcorn and meet her in the front and she walked by the feminine needs aisle that it dawned on her. She had never gotten her period that month. She flipped through her calendar on her phone and sure enough, two weeks ago her period was supposed to start and it never did. And just like that, it hit her like a ton of bricks.

"Oh…shit." She had said out loud. She immediately turned her cart down the aisle and grabbed three pregnancy tests. She buried them underneath the broccoli and went to meet her son at the cash register. Luckily, Henry was so engrossed in whatever was on his phone that he didn't pay much attention to anything that was being purchased. As soon as she got home Emma hid the tests under the sink and tried to come up with any other excuse for what was going on with her. She had managed to make herself believe that she had some sort of bug that was messing with her body's natural cycle until 4AM when a wave of nausea hit her like a truck and she barely made it to the bathroom before her dinner was making its way back up. Killian was with her in a second, holding her hair back with his hook and rubbing her back with his good hand.

"I really think you should call the doctor tomorrow love, you've been going on like this for three weeks, something is clearly wrong." Emma wanted to tell him right then and there but she didn't want to go down that road before she took a test. She simply nodded in return taking the washcloth he offered her to wipe off her face. Killian helped her to her feet and pulled her in close to him

"I got puke in my hair you probably really don't want to be doing that."

"There is nothing you could do to yourself that would make me not want to be there to comfort you in a time of need." He said kissing her forehead.

Yea…wait a few months from now when I'm screaming at you and a watermelon is flying out of me. Emma thought to herself. "Head back to bed, I'm just gonna brush my teeth and I'll be there in a minute." As she stood there brushing her teeth she couldn't help but think about that moment of their child entering the world again and knowing that despite whatever she said to him or how unpleasant the situation got, he would be there. He would never leave her, he would be there to support her one hundred percent of the way. It was in that moment that she thought about the pregnancy tests hiding under the sink and that whatever results they showed her it didn't matter. She could do this because she had him. They could do this.

"Seriously love, call the doctor tomorrow. Your father and I can handle everything down at the station, take the day off and rest." Killian said, opening his arms to her as she got back in bed.

"Alright." She replied snuggling into him.

"Alright? That's it? No fighting? You really must be ill. My Emma would never go to the doctor willingly." He said playfully, putting his hand on her forehead to mock take her temperature.

"You're right, three weeks is a long time and this way I can get you and my parents off my back and prove to you its just a bug and it will pass." Truth be told she was going to take the time alone while he was at work and Henry at school to take those tests and get an answer once and for all.

BUZZ BUZZZ BUZZ the ringing of the timer on her phone brought Emma back to reality. She hadn't dared to look at it yet, she took a deep breath and held up the test. PREGNANT. The results were clear as day and were consistent with the next two tests she took.

"Ok. Oh shit. Ok." She said out loud to herself. "Breathe." She told herself trying to calm her racing heart. She was pregnant, with her second unplanned pregnancy. Maybe she was one of those people who was just never supposed to have a planned baby. The next forty-five minutes went by as kind of a blur to Emma. It wasn't until Killian called her and asked if she had managed to get into the doctor yet or not that she snapped back to reality. She picked up the phone and found herself dialing Dr. Whale's office.

"Dr. Whale's office, how may I help you today?" said a receptionists voice over the phone.

"I need to set up an appointment please." Emma said

"What brings you in for the appointment ma'am?"

"Ummm…I think I might be pre…pregnant." Emma stumbled over the word. Saying it out loud made it seem so much more real.

"Ok. Are you a new patient? Can I have your name please?"

"Oh I'm not a new patient, I've been treated by Dr. Whale before, my name is Emma Jones."

"Oh Mrs. Jones, congratulations! Would you prefer morning or afternoon?" This was the problem with living in a small town. Everyone knew you and keeping secrets was even harder.

"Morning would be better."

"I have a 7:30?"

"Sounds good to me. See you then."

Got an appointment 7:30 tomorrow morning. Emma texted Killian as she collapsed on the couch, her hands unconsciously coming to rest on her stomach. She was pregnant. She was going to be a mother again. This time from the beginning, she was going to be there for every late night feeding, every smile, every milestone, everything. She started rubbing her stomach and noticed she was smiling. As frightened as she was about becoming a mother again she was even more excited. The best part was that this time she wasn't going to be alone. She was going to have her incredible, loving, and supportive husband there for her and this baby from day one. He would refuse to miss a minute of any it with them and Emma knew if he wasn't at that appointment tomorrow when they found out for sure he would be beyond upset. Which means she was going to have to tell him, tonight.

A glance at the clock told Emma she had five hours to get everything set up before Killian got home from work. First thing she did was text Regina and ask if she could pick up Henry from school and keep him at her place tonight. She played it off as she was planning a last minute date night for her and Killian. She wanted Henry to have his own special surprise reveal. She went to the store and got necessary items and barely finished setting up at home before Killian made it home.

"Emma?" Killian called out as he entered the house.

"In the living room." She answered back from the couch. He appeared in the room wearing a smile and carrying a bag with the grease seeping through.

"Grilled cheese and onion rings to help aid in the healing process." He said setting the bag down on the table and leaning down to kiss her head.

"You know me too well. I got you a surprise today as well." She said as they started to eat their dinner.

"Oh really? Why did you go off and do a thing like that for love?"

"Because I love you, and I wanted to get you a present."

"Well I love you too and I can think of nothing you could give me that I don't already have."

"Really? There is nothing that could make your life any better?"

"I've got everything I could ever want right here." He said rubbing noses with her and places a gentle kiss on her lips. Old habits and fears kicked in and Emma started to worry that maybe what he had said that night on the honeymoon was just drunken rambling. He had no desires to expand their family and have children with her. What if he rejected her and the baby and left? No, Killian would never do that. She shut down the fears and refocused herself. She pulled a box with a ribbon tied around it out from behind her and handed it to him before she totally lost her nerve.

"Well thank you love, but again you really didn't have to. Shall I open it now?" Emma nodded, her heart racing in her chest as be started to pull the ribbon off. Inside the box was a beautiful pocket watch. The front of it had a ship's steering wheel on it and was engraved:

5/7/2017

1+1=2

E+K

"It's beautiful love, that was the happiest day of my life, the day I married you." Killian said looking up from the watch.

"Mine too, open it!" Emma said, the moment of truth drawing near as she watched his fingers slide the latch to open the watch. Inside on the right was a beautiful watch, with a ship as the center piece on the left was a second inscription.

February 2018

2+1 = 3

E+K + Baby Jones

Emma kept her eyes focused on Killian's face. His face unmoving and his eyes focused on the engraving, reading it three, four, five times before finally looking up to meet her gaze.

"Emma….are you…?" he was unable to finish the sentence, tears coming into his eyes and a smile starting to form in the corners of his mouth, too afraid.

"I'm pregnant. Killian, we're going to have a baby!" She said smile so big it hurt, unable to stop the tears from flowing. He immediately jumped up, pulling her with him and spinning her around before pulling her close to him.

"We're really going to have a baby love?" He asked her again, smiling so wide she was worried it might get stuck that way.

"We are! Are you ok with this?"

"Am I ok with it? Are you crazy I'm over the moon about it! I've wanted this for a long time and now it's finally happening." He said kissing all over her face.

"Then why haven't you said anything?"

"I told you that night on our honeymoon that I wanted to have a child with you but I was going to wait for you to say the word. Your happiness is everything to me Emma, and I never wanted to push you into something you weren't ready for. Much like when I wanted desperately to move in with you and progress our relationship I knew that in time things would work itself out and sure enough you asked me on your own when you were ready. How did this even happen?" "Well you see when two people love each other very much…"

"I know how it happens in that sense, I meant I thought you said that pill you take prevents this from happening?"

"It's not 100% effective and certain things can interfere with it? Remember just before our anniversary when I got that ear infection and had to take antibiotics? Well a side effect of them is they can make birth control pills less effective. I should have been more diligent about using extra protection I'm sorry." She said.

"Don't be sorry love, I'm glad you weren't. Unless….you aren't happy about this?" He asked, looking slightly worried.

"Of course I'm happy about it! I'm scared to death but I'm beyond happy about it."

"You don't have anything to be scared of love." He said stroking her face

"How not? There is going to be this little person in the world who is half you and half me and will be dependent on us for literally everything. I didn't start raising Henry until he was ten. This is going to be a first for me and I'm scared I'm going to mess up, I'm not going to be everything this baby needs me to be, deserves me to be, and I'm scared that you're going to get spooked and leave and…." Killian stopped her right there with a kiss and pulled back with hand still on her face.

"Never, for one second do I want you doubt your abilities as a mother. You are amazing with Henry and he absolutely adores you. You are in a totally different place in your life now and you are ready for this. This baby is going to be the luckiest child I know to have you as its mother. I also never want you to think I would ever leave you. I know you were alone the last time this happened but not this time. I am going to be there with you through every step of this." At this point Emma was crying again and she wrapped her arms around him.

"Good, I have a doctor's appointment in the morning with Dr. Whale would you like to come?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world love." Killian said, bringing her in for a kiss and resting his hand on her stomach protectively. They both sat down to finish their dinner, excited for the days ahead.

A/N: Please review and let me know what you think!

[snowbellewells]

@donteattheappleshook Oh my goodness!! Wow, this was so tender and lovely and just touching in every way. I honestly many times don’t know quite how to go about commenting on more M-rated one shots, but this one with one of my favorite canon versions of Killian and just love and care Emma has for him and the gentleness she shows him here. It melted my heart. I could just ❤️SWOON❤️ over and over again at it!

And that’s not to say it isn’t steamy, or that the sizzle isn’t still present, because it is! It’s just that reading it you’re even more taken by the depth of emotion. From almost the very start, when Emma’s alone in his cabin and thinking how they have to get his ship back to him, get Killian back to himself, you’re tugging at our heartstrings in the best sort of way. By the time Emma is vowing to give to give this Killian a proper first time, the one he deserved to have I was just in love with this, and then you had me tearing up when she was helping him with his shirt and he seems embarrassed and she has to wonder if he’d ever been given kindness at all. Our poor young deckhand! 😭

Just all throughout this it’s such a lovely view of Emma caring for her pirate in the way that we all know she would, but that canon didn’t take the time to let us see as often. You really put it beautifully here: “He’s shaking, trembling in her arms as his breath comes out in soft whimpers against her skin. She brushes her fingers through his damp hair, holding him tightly and turning her head to press kisses to his temple, his ear, his cheekbone, soothing him.” But it’s genuinely all throughout this story, and I LOVED that about it!! 💕💗💕I will quit rambling now, but THANK YOU for sharing this!!

A Little Death AKA: Some Fairytale Bliss AKA: Deflowering the Deckhand

Thanks @kmomof4 for betaing and to everyone in the CSSNS discord for help with the title/puns

Set during Operation Mongoose: Part 2. Emma decides to teach the shy deckhand a thing or two about swordplay. Mostly just smut. 

@snowbellewells because you asked :)

On Ao3

Trigger Warning: Brief mention of a past dub-con/underage loss of virginity. Everything that happens in this fic is fully consensual

-/-

Emma sits in the captain’s quarters, thrown by how familiar and different it somehow feels all at once. She’s been here so many times, has slept in that bed, sat on that desk trying to distract Killian from whatever he was writing in his journal. The room is the same as it always is but somehow just not quite right. She doesn’t know if it’s because the Author and Gold have never been in this cabin before, and had had to make it up based on what they imagined and what was in the original story book, or if it’s because in this reality, Blackbeard is the captain of the Jolly Roger. 

So many things are the same, the wood, the furniture, the deep tapestries and rugs that adorn the floor and the walls, even the comforter on the bed beneath her is right, the same silky feel under her fingers. But the objects on the desk, the little bits of treasure that Killian had collected throughout his life and cared enough about to decorate his space with are missing. As is his brother’s sextant. And his books. It’s eerie and wrong to look at that empty shelf where both have always sat. 

She shivers. She needs to get them back to their world, get Killian back to who he is, her parents too. That’s been harder than anything, knowing that her parents are evil in this realm, that they’re trying to kill Henry, that they’ll certainly kill her if they can. Everyone here is so different. But especially Killian. More than anything Killian. This version of him, he’s so shy, so sweet and so nervous, nothing of his usual swagger and confidence remaining. And the goat’s milk. Don’t get her started on the goat’s milk. 

A smile pulls at her lip as she remembers the expression on his face when she’d defeated Lily, so excited, so anxious, but proud - of her. She remembers how he’d looked when she’d bumped into him in the tower too. He’d been dazed, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as he looked at her with no recognition but with the same awe, the same longing that her Killian so often looked at her with. 

The difference this time was that while he looked at her as though she was the most beautiful woman in the world, he also looked at her as though she were the only, the first woman he’d ever held in his arms. 

But she’d seen that desire too, that longing as he’d held her against him, but she could tell he didn’t know what to do with it, it had made him flustered and awkward as he pulled away to shake her hand, but not before she felt the hardness pressing against her. 

He’d jumped back like she’d burned him, no quip or comment or flirtation, not even a wandering hand. He was a deer in the headlights, panicked and confused and so nervous. It had been confusing, but endearing too. 

There’s a knock on the door and Emma looks up, asks who’s there, which feels ridiculous because there are only two other people on the ship, both of whom are welcome in the room with her. 

“It’s Killian,” his voice answers, muffled through the door. “I’ve, um, I’ve found you some clothes,” he stutters. 

“Come in.”

The door creaks open slowly, hesitantly, and Killian steps through, shoulders hunched and head hanging down, looking at the floor as he cradles some pants and a shirt neatly folded against his chest. 

“You don’t have to ask to come into your own cabin, you know,” she tells him and he flushes, his hand coming to scratch behind his ear in a way that’s so familiar it makes her heart ache a little. She’ll get him back, she tells herself. 

“Perhaps,” he starts slowly, “in your world this is my cabin. But it is certainly not in this one.” He clears his throat, holding the clothes out to her and she takes them from him, their fingers brushing as she does. He pulls his hand back quickly as his cheeks flame. 

“Thank you,” she tells him, trying to catch his eye but he won’t look at her. She steps past him, locking the door so that Henry won’t come down and walk in on her changing - that boy doesn’t need any more traumatic teenager memories, Storybrooke does just fine in providing him enough of those. He’s up at the helm, sailing them back to the Enchanted Forest, but it’s better to be careful. 

She sets the clothes down on the bed and starts to undress, working at the awkward, cumbersome buttons and fastenings of this land’s fashion. She misses her jeans. She hears a startled sound and looks up to see Killian staring at her, looking equal parts stunned and then ashamed when he meets her eye. He stumbles over his words, saying that he’ll leave her to get changed.

“You don’t have to go,” she tells him, raising a brow and he freezes. He looks like he very much wants to stay, but also like he very much wants to run out of here, leaving a Killian shaped hole in the door. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” she says casually. Or touched, or kissed or licked, her thoughts supply. 

He clears his throat, looks back down at the floor. “I’m fairly certain I’d remember if I had,” he says and she smiles a little. Look at him, she thinks, that was almost flirting, almost a compliment. She continues undressing and he doesn’t leave but continues to stare at the floor. 

“What’s the matter?” she asks, trying for gentle but maybe coming off a bit more annoyed than she means to. She’s basically told him that she doesn’t mind him watching her undress but he hasn’t made a single innuendo, hasn’t tried to touch her or even look at her. Instead he’s standing there looking scared and unsure of himself. 

“It’s, um, it’s not appropriate,” he says. “For me to look at you in a state of undress.” She hears him mumble something about propriety that she barely catches but it’s the next thing he mumbles that makes her stop. She barely hears it, barely makes it out but she knows she heard the words ‘not worthy’ fall from his lips, a self-deprecating frown crossing his brow. 

“Killian,” she says, dropping her hands from the fastenings. “Look at me.” 

He keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the wood below his feet for another moment and she waits, waits until slowly, he raises his eyes to hers, focused on her face and not the buttons she’s managed to unlatch at her breast. She holds his gaze and resumes her task. His eyes flicker down quickly to where the bodice of her dress is open and his eyes widen, his chest rising and falling with heavy, shaky breaths. 

She wonders then, not for the first time, exactly what backstory this version of him was given. He’s a deckhand, she knows that, and he’s allergic to rum and apparently a coward based on what Henry told her Blackbeard said. But as she thinks about the way he’s looking at her now, how he’d looked at her in the tower, had struggled to touch her, to even compliment her… holy shit. Was he a virgin? Did Gold make Captain Hook - the man who had seduced his wife away, made her fall in love with him - too afraid of speaking to women to ever have had one? 

Keep reading

[profoundlyfadedfics]

OUAT FF: The Stolen Heart From Within You

Summary: Twenty-Six Years after the Final Battle with the Black Fairy, Emma Swan and Killian Jones’s only daughter is swallowed up by a portal where she gets caught up in a surprising mission that tests everything everyone thought known about a terrible battle that cost the life of the Saviour shortly after Zarina’s birth twenty-five years earlier.

Meanwhile, Killian and Henry fight to find a way to the missing Zarina, only to find themselves caught up in the same story.

Rating: Teen (but will probably become Mature)

Warning: Contains Reference to a Major Character Death

A/N: The predictability of the hate mail, was well, predictable. If you don’t like the theme, then don’t read it. This is going to be something a bit different to the usual, and all the hate mail in the world is not going to stop me finishing it and publishing it.

Also on AO3

Chapter One: Deep in the Enchanted Forest

 Three days earlier…

Zarina Jones landed, cracking her wrist on the hard ground beneath the pile of leaves the portal tossed her into. She suppressed a groan. Then using her uninjured hand, she pushed herself over to lie on her back. Her gaze lingered on the fluttering canopy while sunlight shimmered over her body.

She wasn’t in Maine anymore. Sun was a rarity in the winter months. This was not Thanksgiving weekend Maine weather.

With a sign, she focused her attention on her wrist. It was rapidly swelling and any sensation in her fingers was dulling down. She cradled it against her chest while schooling her reactions in a bid not to cry. This type of physical pain was no longer normal for her. Not since she had blazed out of Storybrooke in a forty-year-old Mazda MX-5 Miata two years earlier with the vow to only visit in the Summer and holiday weekends. Maybe that’s why she was caught out. Her quiet life had dulled her senses.

Zarina rolled up into a seated position. From her position, she assessed the damage to her hand. A bruise was already spreading from the mound of her hand, towards her fingers and thumb to her wrist. She cursed under her breath. Then she closed her eyes, reaching for the magic buried deep within. It took a moment of persuasion, but it sparked. The white warmth travelled to meet her injured hand. She willed more forth to until the pain vanished and she could move her fingers again.

Once she was able to flex her hand comfortably, Zarina sighed in relief, a smile lifting on her lips. As she did, rustling reached her ears. The smile died and she cocked her head to listen when a whoosh of air passed close to her back. Flicking her head to her right, she saw an arrow embed itself into a tree trunk. Her eyes widened as she cursed under her breath before turning to face the direction it had come from.

She got to her feet as she looked up into the trees then back to the ground. She moved by instinct, her muscle memory kicking in to put her in a defensive position, but she hadn’t belted a sword to her side before leaving the house. Instead, she focused on her magic, letting it brim to the surface of her palms so it was a thought away.

‘Show yourself,’ she called, as she did another pass on her surroundings.

Three men emerged from the woods. Their attire was camouflage to look like the undergrowth. She looked at each one; two were burly in stature, with knives at their sides. Zarina surmised they were probably more proficient in throwing their fists than using daggers. The curl mop-headed man stood with his bow drawn, holding his bow tight. For the moment he was aimed just to the left of her shoulder, but it would only take a swift flick of his wrist and he could take her knee, or her ankle, her eye…

The list of devastating wounds that didn’t result in death was numerous.

‘Name yourself, Witch,’ the archer asked.

She smiled tightly, shaking her head tightly. ‘My dad always told me not to speak to strangers,’ she said.

The humour didn't hit home. ‘You are in violation of our bylaws.’

Zarina frowned looking down at where she had arrived in this world. ‘I didn’t do that,’ she said.

‘First, it's ‘I was thrown through a portal’, then it's an attempted coup on the Queen,’ said the Archer. ‘Magic is punished at the pleasure of Her Majesty.’

‘And what sort of pleasure does that entail?’

The Archer lowered his bow, his angle now a clean shot to her thigh. ‘Torture. Mutilation. Death.’

Zarina tried to suppress a smile at the ominous sounding tone. Judging by the grimace on her captors face, she didn't manage it.

As the Archer proclaimed he was arresting her, Zarina took in her surroundings as the Hulk on her left produced chains from his belt. He didn’t exactly look like the law and order respecting sort. She should know; her father was the infamous Captain Hook as well as the Sheriff of Storybrooke. He was hardly the epitome of law and order either, but at least he had an air of respect and authority about him. Zarina clicked her tongue, thinking of her father's one-time advice for if she ever got stuck in another realm, before turning on her heel and crashing into the undergrowth.

--//--

Assuming the sun travelled in the same east to west direction, then Zarina guessed she would be travelling north. After an initial sprint, she settled into her jogging pace to conserve energy which allowed her to duck branches. Several still caught her wool coat. The hundred and thirty dollar coat wasn’t exactly forest attire, but then she didn’t leave her father’s home with the intention of ending up in this forest.

With a glance behind her, she felt secure enough to slow to a walk. Taking a moment, she turned full circle to take in her surroundings. There was no discernible threat, but Zarina was certain her would-be captors were more than capable of creeping up on her. Still, if she kept jogging she’d cramp up then there’d be trouble. As she walked, she rolled her shoulders, rubbing her neck as she glanced around for more tree men.

Maybe she’d ended up in a Tolkien novel. She was pretty sure the Hobbit had some wildmen who prowled the woods. The archer and his men certainly weren’t elves.

Her feet kicked at the at the leaves carpeting the floor as she dug her hands into her pocket. In the reprieve of the situation, her mind began to work over possible outcomes to return home. It was clear her magic worked. Her hands clenched around the contents of the pocket. Her cell phone and keys. At least she still had them, for all the good they would do her here.

She kept moving. Her feet were dragging due to tiredness. A whole day had passed in Storybrooke before winding up here. As she willed herself to keep going, she crested a small mould which looked down to a small stream. The water she understood. Knowing it would flow out to the sea, she started down to it when she was lifted skyward.

A rope tightened around her ankle as she flew up, cursing to the seven suns as she did until she was swinging to and fro. Her long wavy hair brushed the ground, now disturbed thanks to the trap she set off. She wrapped her flailing leg around her ankle to steady herself and waited until she moved slowly. There was no way of getting out of this. She had tried before on the deck of the Jolly Roger - much to the amusement of her father and Henry. Instead, she crossed her legs and waited for her captors - no doubt her friends from the clearing - to join her.

Their approach was swift, slinking out of the shadows. The Archer didn’t have his bow raised. In fact, it was slung over his shoulders. His face with twisted with a smirk, his lips pulled up. Zarina felt like flipping him the bird, but she wasn’t certain it would have the same effect as in her world.

‘That was quite the effort. We’ve never had anyone out run us that far before,’ he said, tilting his head.

‘You can chalk it up to experience,’ Zarina bit back. ‘Now, let me down.’

‘We still have to arrest you,’ said the Archer as the same man from before pulled out the cuffs.

At least she thought it was the same man as before, the two thugs bore a striking resemblance to one another now she thought about it.

‘You know, you should really work on those sideburns,’ she said as one of them stalked towards her. ‘I hear the girls love ‘em.’

The stoic man slashed his blade to cut the line. Despite being prepared she crashed to the floor in an unceremonious heap and unattractive groan. After straightening out, she moved to a cross-legged position, gazing up with her hands resting her lap.

‘So what does the Queen really do with magic users?’ she asked, flicking her eyelids.

The Archer rolled his eyes. ‘I told you.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ she said, tucking her arms further into the nest of her legs.

‘Well, you are about to find out,’ he replied as he nodded his head at the cuff bearing man.

The other moved towards her and hauled her up while his brother cuffed her. They were none too gentle as they pulled her arms around. All the while she kept her eyes trained on her captor. Her defiance brimmed to the surface. He was amused. Chuckling as he was given the key.

‘So who are you?’ she asked. ‘Might as well given into a dying girl's request.’

Another smirk crossed his lips. The type of arrogance in his eyes that suggested he always got his way. ‘Roland of Locksley,’ he said, bending into an extravagant bow with his arms out. ‘And you are?’

‘People call me ZJ,’ she said, ‘or just Zee.’

Roland nodded his head. ‘Zee,’ he repeated. ‘Fine with me, but the Queen will know your name. Where are you from, Zee?’

‘A place where stories are often left untold,’ she rapped off. Tip number two was to never reveal where she was from.  ‘I was fleeing someone.’

‘And ran straight into us.’

‘The irony isn’t lost on me,’ she shot back. ‘Well, Roland of Locksley, lead the way to my inevitable doom.’

--//--

After two days of forest trekking, the Dark Palace roses from the trees, dominating the landscape. She’s seen pictures of it many times. It dominates the early part of Henry’s storybook given it was Regina’s stronghold. It was also once the home of her family. Her Grandmother grew up here, and it was built for her Great-Grandmother. It’s hard to appreciate the palace though. Her feet ached with the walk, blisters forming on the balls of her feet. Glam high street boots not exactly sensible attire for the journey through the forest. The cuffs around her wrists caused her pain as the rough metal rubbed at her skin.

She had listened carefully to her captors, discerning that the long-time occupier of the palace was known only as The Dark Queen. The two thugs called her it under in undertones. It didn’t take a genius to work out they were uncomfortable with the situation they were in. Seeing the place brought a bubble of panic to the surface. Her bravado was dying as they arrived in the courtyard where guards lined up in dark uniforms with swords strapped to their sides. It looked ostentatious. The guards bowed as Roland passed. The young man had some level of position at the palace.

Above them, the huge double doors opened to reveal a greying old man. He might have been normal sized for all Zarina knew but in the surroundings, he looked like a dwarf. He was dressed in formal morning attire complete with tails that flapped when he moved. He looked harassed, and perhaps a little worried as he called Roland’s name, using the title of Sir.

Sir Roland of Locksley.

Zarina remained still as the man ran to them, getting a little puffed out as he dashed to the stairs. ‘Is this she? The portal jumper?’

Roland’s face dropped in a little bit of surprise before he schooled himself. ‘How does Her Majesty already know?’

The seneschal looked at Zarina, his grey eyes flicking over her. ‘The Queen had a vision. One that set her to bed for a night and day.’ He settled on looking her right in the eye. ‘She wishes to see you.’ Then he looked to Roland. ‘Uncuff her Locksley. This woman is a guest of the Queen.’

Her captor gave the seneschal a dubious look. Holding his look, they seemed to be fighting something out, but the seneschal won with the younger man backing down as he pulled the keys from his pocket. It was clear who had the authority here. It was almost painful when the metal came away. Zarina’s wrist were red and a few layers of skin had been rubbed away. Her eyes became doleful as she looked at Roland.

‘If you will follow me, Miss…?’

‘Zee will do,’ she said, turning to the seneschal. ‘Just Zee.’

The seneschal nodded his head. ‘Zee. Follow me, ma’am.’

Zarina glanced at Roland. He shrugged as she followed the older man.

‘And what do I call you, Sir?’ she asked.

‘It isn’t Sir,’ he said with a chuckle, ‘at least not to guests of Her Majesty. Mr Cogsworth, or just Cogsworth.’

Her steps might have faltered where she one of her fellow teachers from Portland, but she maintained his pace through the halls, glancing at the tall onyx pillars holding up the vaulted ceiling. ‘What is this place?’ she asked, trying to get look at Cogsworth to see if he was particularly clock-like in any mannerism. He was thinner than both his film counterparts.

‘It was originally built as the summer palace for Queen Ava,’ he said, ‘before becoming the stronghold of The Evil Queen. But it is the home of Her Majesty.’

‘Who is this Majesty, Mr Cogsworth, I have only heard whispered names by Sir Roland’s cohorts,’ she said.

‘The Stabbington’s are to be ignored, they were found guilty of a crime and are working off their debts,’ he said. ‘Now if you will just wait here ma’am, I will introduce you.’

Two huge doors were pushed open to reveal a grand hall. Onyx covered the floor, but great marble pillars held up the ceiling. At the end stood a chair on a dais. The queen, clad in black pants and a jacket sat in the shadowed space. It was almost as if that space was cursed not to let light in despite Zarina being able to see little dust motes dancing in the air. Cogsworth crossed the space quickly as Zarina lingered, resisting the temptation to fidget with her fingers. She took a deep breath. She was the next in line of a family of heroes and she would hold that up.

‘Might I present Lady Zee, of the Land Without Magic,’ he said, giving an extravagant bow, his arm shooting out in her direction.

She took a deep breath. ‘You are the daughter of heroes,’ she whispered as she tossed her black hair back.

Her back was ramrod straight as she walked into the room. The great room was worthy of admiration, but she was utterly fixated on the slender woman. As Zarina walked the length of the room, the Queen rose, clasping her hands behind her back while crossing her legs at the ankle. Her angular face caught the light; sharp cheekbones and her chin jutted out. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun. She was pixie-like in every way.

Zarina paused half way into the room. Her heart pumped against her chest as she met the green eyes rimmed with silver as she stepped into the light.

The Dark Queen looked down at her, face expressionless as Zarina found her courage. This woman wasn’t just any old story. Zarina had seen this woman plenty of times inside her brother’s book. She had flicked back to that part of the story with some sort of sickening interest.

A piece of Storybrooke legend.

A dark incarnation of someone good.

Zarina’s world turned in a great pulse of magic as her cheek met the onyx floor.

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Just As Much As I Do”

Notes: This is another little one shot I originally wrote in the summer after Season 3 of OuaT.  Post Season 3 finale, this one is meant to be the very next day, waking up back in the present, the Wicked Witch defeated,and Pirate and Princess maybe - just maybe - stealing a quiet moment or two in the afterglow. Rated T, though the reasons for that are only implied. Title and song lyrics included are from Snow Patrol's "Crack the Shutters", and of course I don't own that lovely song any more than I do OuaT or its characters. Enjoy – and please leave a review!

Also available on AO3 or ff.net, if that’s more your preference

Summary: The morning after the finale, waking up in his room at Granny's, for Killian Jones, it seems like his wildest dreams have come true magnificently.

“Just As Much As I Do” 

by: @snowbellewells 

Sunlight pours in through sheer white curtains, bathing the small room in golden glow and warming the darkness into hazy morning. As the sun's rays fall across the tangled sheets on the bed and heat the bare skin of a pirate, Killian Jones' eyes ease open, blinking in the sunrise and slowly regaining his bearings.

He rubs a hand over his face and back through his tufted, disheveled hair, confused and disoriented for a moment, not sure how he is once again in his familiar room at Granny's when yesterday he was sitting at a campfire in the Enchanted Forest of his past. Memory filters back to him with the same sort of gilded pleasure as the morning light. 'Emma,' his mind whispers, 'I brought her home.'

Turning from where he sits up in bed, bare to the waist as the sheets pool at his hips, he sees her lying beside him drenched in the wash of gold through the window, that cascade of blond hair lit up as if on fire. She is still fast asleep, splayed out luxuriously on her stomach, pale, flawless back on display for his perusal. As Killian gazes on her, admiration swirling within him, Emma mumbles drowsily and smiles without conscious thought, looking so much more peaceful and satisfied than he believes he has ever seen her while awake. She scoots closer to him, seeking contact in the depths of her slumber.

He reaches out to brush a lock of hair off her shoulder, smoothing it down her back with its fellows and letting his fingertips trail along the graceful path of her spine. That he can touch her at last, after so long – after so much wanting and denial – seems almost a dream. Killian's breath catches for a moment as he wonders whether he is awake at all.

Smiling to himself, he cannot help snuggling back into the mattress, studying every relaxed, glorious inch of Emma Swan while she is still unaware, knowing she would be blushing and trying to hide from such frank adoration, ducking her head self-consciously to avoid his gaze, if she were awake. Somehow he has earned his place beside his golden goddess – and no one or nothing, not even the sun itself gilding her in splendor before his very eyes, can worship her as much as he does.

Crack the shutters, open wide

I wanna bathe you in the light of day

And just watch you as the rays

tangle up around your face and body

I could sit for hours

finding new ways to be awed each minute

'Cause the daylight seems to want you

just as much as I do

The peaceful quiet of morning's first light is broken before he wishes as Emma's cell phone rings from the nightstand of his rented room and stirs her from her slumber. Her hand shoots out blindly to snag the offending object, and she mumbles "Hello?" blearily.

Emma sits up as she listens to the voice on the other end, bringing the sheet to wrap around her body as she does. Killian can tell already that it is someone needing something from either the Sheriff or the Savior, but she doesn't seem to mind the duty settling back onto her shoulders as she has in the past. Instead, she seems pleased, as if she finally knows that this is not a curse or a burden so much as her calling, part of belonging to people and a place of her own at last. She glances at him over her shoulder, a sly smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes; even as she nods and goes back to assuring the person on the line that she will be right there.

Once she has hung up, she glances at him sheepishly. "Back to work," she says with a shrug and that quirk of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

"Aye, Darling, so it would seem," he replies, reaching out to run his fingers through her hair and pull her in for a quick kiss.

To his surprise, she nuzzles into his touch, eyes closing for a few precious moments, savoring the warm expanding feeling rising in her chest. He half expected her to pull away – push him back and shut him out once again – when she woke this morning. It would seem instead that his Swan has bested him one more time, and his devotion to her only grows.

"No rest for the wicked, as they say," she murmurs affectionately, pulling back with reluctance to stand and begin redressing in the clothes they had shed in such haste the night before.

"And just which one of us are you calling wicked, Lass?" he questions, brow arching and grinning at her in a way that he hopes will sorely try her resolve not to crawl back across the bed and let the dwarves deal with their stolen trash bins on their own.

"Oh, I meant both of us," she teases back, mischief in her expression, "but those lips and that hand of yours leave no doubt where you're concerned."

He laughs, taken so by surprise that he tips his head back with it, a full-bodied, strong chortle. "Oi, Swan, what would you have had me do, you vixen? You were practically begging me!"

She actually giggles, looking so happy and completely pleased with herself that he wishes to keep that expression on her face forever. The flush that colors her cheeks and spreads down her neck to disappear in her shirt is so fetching that Killian is hard pressed not to haul her back into his arms and refuse to let her go.

"Shall I accompany you, Swan?" he offers, moving to get up as well and already scanning for where she had flung his shirt and vest.

"No, you stay put," she says with a hungry glint in her eye. "Go downstairs and have breakfast or something. It shouldn't be long before I can get back here."

"Oh," he smirks, looking terribly proud of himself, "I see. Am I under house arrest because you cannot get your fill of me, Sheriff?"

"More or less," she grins evilly.

"Insatiable minx," he returns, tongue peeking out to brush across his lower lip in a way that sends sparks along her veins and graphic images flashing behind her eyes.

"You've got no one but yourself to blame, Pirate," she throws out, giving him one last playful look before she slips out the door. Inside, her heart is swelling while she marvels at the absence of panic, at the fact that she truly wants to stay in the perfect little cocoon the two of them have created, and yearns to be back with him as soon as possible.

It's been minutes, it's been days

It's been all I will remember

Happy lost in your hair

and the cool side of the pillow

Your hills and valleys

are mapped by my intrepid fingers

And in a naked slumber

I dream all this again…

The next morning dawns in much the same way, and Killian's eyes crack open with the sunrise once more; years ever-alert from life on the high sea never failing to pull him into early wakefulness. He is stunned all over again by his good fortune: Emma is with him still. This time, instead of a sprawl, she is curled up into his chest, head tucked under his chin.

Still reverent as he touches her, almost afraid to shatter the illusion, he lets his fingers ghost over the apples of her cheeks, along the line of her nose, and twine themselves in her hair, cradling the back of her head, his handless arm tucking her even more securely into the shelter of his body, stump gently caressing her lower back. Her sleep seems calm and dreamless, which she had confided in him is new and rare, and Killian dares to believe that he has helped to make it possible. Her presence is soothing to him as well, banishing haunted nightmares he never thought to lose. There are no creases of worry marring her forehead, and the tiniest smile rests on her senseless lips, tilting them upwards in a captivating, if unknowing, manner.

Killian places the softest of kisses to her smooth brow, loving her just as he has ever since she stared deep into his soul in the diner when Storybrooke faced oblivion and offered him a second chance – a way to belong to something, to someone…to her. He had seen it then, desired it so ardently that it has fueled every action he has taken since. The intensity of this love, now that Emma recognizes and even welcomes the power she holds over him, and is even trying to give herself to him in return, is overwhelming in its power.

He simply rests here, ignoring the sun's rays spreading across the covers and attempting to rouse him from the most peaceful moment he has ever known. He has traveled a dark, harrowing road to reach this place and moment in time, searched lifetimes for the feeling of completeness in someone who loves him, who will fight for him as fiercely as he fights for her. He can see the warm wash of light over Emma's skin and appreciation for her steals his breath anew. A vision forms of each new day beginning like this one: the pattern of their future together.

Allowing his eyes to drift closed, Killian gladly disregards the dawning day for staying beside his love a little longer. He does not need the sun's help to adore the sight of Emma in his arms; she is branded on the back of his eyelids and in the depths of his soul, every detail of her safeguarded in his heart.

I could sit for hours

finding new ways to be awed each minute

'Cause the daylight seems to want you

just as much as I want you…

Tagging a few who might enjoy:  @jennjenn615​ @kmomof4​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jrob64​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @laschatzi​ @apiratewhopines​ @spartanguard​ @therooksshiningknight​ @tiganasummertree​ @optomisticgirl​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @xarandomdreamx​ @cosette141​ @stahlop​ @sotangledupinit​ @elizabeethan​ @donteattheappleshook​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @gingerchangeling​ @gingerpolyglot​ @xsajx​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @winterbaby89​ @hollyethecurious​ @thislassishooked​ @drowned-dreamer​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @zaharadessert​ @caught-in-the-filter​ @ineffablecolors​ @let-it-raines​ 

[snowbellewells]

@celestial-fire-writer Oh my goodness, did I love this!!! 😍😍 Thank you SO MUCH for tagging me - I would not have wanted to miss this lovely missing scene. I now want to pretend this whole conversation and pause for some healing and forgiveness that you have written really happened in canon and we just didn’t get to see it.

Lovely that they both truly and genuinely understand what they did to the other and apologize, and that the other immediately forgives them. So sweet when Killian realizes Emma wanted his beloved brother’s approval and he assures her (and I am sure he’s right!) that of Liam had really gotten to know her, he would have loved her too.

Perfect how she gives his words back to him again - and that she does finally get to sleep at last, with her pirate safe on her arms. 💕⚓️

Forgiven

Forgiven

 Summary: -“The only future I want is a one with you.”- Post 5x15. Killian might have decided to come home with them and Liam might have moved on, but there are still things that have to be said and apologies to be made. Old insecurities come back to haunt Emma as she fears that she might not be good enough for Killian. Killian tries to get her to see that it’s alright to forgive herself.

 Tagging some who may enjoy: @shady-swan-jones @snowbellewells @withheartfulloflove @capswantrue @alyssinmymind @kiwistreetswan @winterbaby89 @princesse-swan @cryingaggressively @myswan-myhappyending-mylove @kmomof4 @therooksshiningknight  @fierytempestarii @captainswanfanfic @captainswancygnet @cshappybeginning @blowmiakisscolin

Please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from my tag list!

Keep reading

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Operation Future”

This week’s little re-run is a bit more Captain Cobra than CS, in all honesty - though the CS love and devotion is certainly still present. I originally wrote it just after 5x08, desperately needing some fluff to make up for the painful reveal we had just gotten. I thought this was really more of a canon compliant missing moment fic, but as I went back to try to find scenes to make the art, I realized I had imagined more of this than I thought. In my mind, it still seems like a missing moment we just didn’t get to see though, rather than truly canon divergent. At any rate, I hope you enjoy if you give it a read (or read it again.)

Summary: (5x08 really gutted me for a bit, and now I have to write some fluff in order to recover and survive the wait for 5x10. Luckily, once I calmed down a little, I saw that there were some lovely sweet moments in the episode too, and I thought I might explore them further. This one is courtesy of Killian and Henry and their very own secret code name operation. Hope you enjoy! Obviously, I still don’t own them – if I did, I would play with them much more nicely! ;)

Also available on AO3 and ff.net, as part of the one shot collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts”

by: @snowbellewells 

When Emma’s lad had first come to him whilst they idled in Camelot wondering what to do and how to proceed, Killian had arched an eloquently skeptical brow – not sure why Henry would possibly want his opinion, want to include him in this way, and imagining Emma’s indignation at their plotting a major life decision for her in such a manner. However, the genuine hope in the young man’s eyes, the tone of voice that tried so hard to sound firm and sure while under the surface beseeching the pirate for help and support in continuing to believe, and the enthusiasm when Killian listened and showed interest, quickly led the pirate to acquiesce and become Henry’s partner in his newest secret operation.

And what a worthy mission it was. Though the Captain had known this about the boy already, the joyously enacted scheme drove the fact home to him even more forcefully. His love was not the only one stubbornly invested in the happy endings of everyone she cared for – her son was exactly the same. Heroism ran in Henry’s blood as surely as the sea flowed through Killian’s own veins, and the boy was pure love for all whom he cared about, without the extra protective shell of cultivated cynicism and walls Emma had been forced to develop so early in life. Henry had always had a home, been loved (even if Her Majesty Regina had not always expressed that love well) and known that he was wanted. The boy’s belief in Right and Good was a powerful thing, not allowing him to give up nor admit defeat when others might.

Thrusting the newspaper from Storybrooke into Killian’s line of sight, Henry had plowed forward with his explanation, growing more and more enthused as he could see the man warming to his vision. “Okay, so these three are the ones I like best, but give them all a look and see what you think…” he offered as he pointed to the classified section where several homes on the market were displayed. Even as his excitement had him near to bursting and he bounced on his toes slightly while Killian took the paper and began to peruse the choices with genuine interest, Henry still spoke quietly and kept a furtive eye on the others in Granny’s to ensure that their plans were not overheard.

Somehow, it wasn’t until he really studied the homes Henry had indicated that Killian felt this gesture’s importance hit him right in the chest. Tears he refused to let fall stung mightily in the corners of his eyes as the Captain realized quickly that all of the lad’s choices were near the docks and the Jolly, along with boasting lovely views of the water. True, Henry was looking for something good his mother could hang onto, something lovely – a hard-earned reward – to anticipate as she fought for her very soul, but he was also telling Killian that he wanted his mother’s boyfriend to be there with them for the long haul, that he was a part of their little family now, and that Killian had his acceptance and love; it was abundantly clear in the way the lad had chosen only homes that a sailor couldn’t help but love.

Glancing back up and holding earnest, eager brown eyes with his own intense blue gaze, Killian hoped desperately that he could express just how much this gift meant to him. The emotion swelled, tightening in his chest, and where words usually flowed from him eloquently, all he seemed able to rasp out in that moment was, “These are fine abodes, m’boy. Right worthy choices, to be sure.” He licked his lips, striving to continue, to say thank you, to let Emma’s lad know how much he truly cared for him in his own right, as well as for Emma’s sake, but all he could do was nod meaningfully to this extraordinary and astute young man, hoping it would convey his agreement, approval, and a growing sense of paternal love – all the things he was unable to force from his throat aloud just yet.

He could see though, as enthusiasm lit Henry’s gaze and the young Author gave him a determined nod in return – as if setting their course – that he should never have doubted the Truest Believer. Whether he had been able to voice all he felt or not, it would appear that he and Emma’s son also understood each other.

“Well now, Master Mills,” he gave Henry a playful, secretive smile, keeping his voice soft, but allowing a degree of joviality as well, “if we are in accord, perhaps we should shake on it and seal the deal? A gentlemen’s agreement of sorts?”

Henry literally beamed back at him, extending a hand to take Killian’s inconspicuously proffered right and finalize their arrangement – their gift for the mother and savior they both loved. “Aye, aye, Captain,” he said with equal good humor.

Killian circled the house he liked best, jotting down a tentative note of “This one?” beside it, then handed the classifieds back to Henry, who tucked the paper into his tunic for safekeeping. The lad had begun to back away, looking the tiniest bit awkward and unsure for the first time, when Killian couldn’t resist speaking once more to offer his appreciation and approval, even if it was not truly his place. “This is a stellar notion, Lad,” he murmured, hoping to show his fervent sincerity in even a quiet tone. “I do believe your mum will be quite happy with it.”

Henry’s head dipped for a moment, bashful, and then, in a quick shuffle, so brief Killian almost thought he was imagining it even as it happened, the teen jerked forward, hugged him tightly, and then fell back and moved away before the man could even respond. Watching Henry’s retreat as he neared his grandpa, and Charming turned to clap him on the shoulder in greeting and welcome him into the little circle he had formed with his wife and Henry’s infant uncle to enjoy the repast Granny had made, Killian felt warmed from the inside and a smile lingered on his face. He was more strengthened for the struggle than ever, well aware that he was not alone in battling for Emma’s happiness, and as her two greatest loves united, they could not fail.

~~~00~~~00~~~00~~~

Four weeks later…

Henry stands on the front walk, looking up at the façade of the two story house he and Killian had picked as their favorite back in Camelot. Dew still glitters on the grass in the yard, and he huddles into the heavy wool of his coat against the chill of the cold, grey, early morning. The house is every bit as perfect as it had looked in that newspaper ad, and his mom does live here, but somehow things are still all wrong, and nothing has turned out the way he had hoped.

Not only is Emma still the Dark One, but something is wrong with Killian too. At first, Henry had attributed it to the fact that they were back home with no memories of their time in the other realm, and the frustration he knew the Captain must feel at thinking he had failed his love and seeing her so cold and distant, fully embracing the entity he had fought to destroy for hundreds of years. Henry had felt pretty guilty himself, though Emma had assured him that he was not one of those who had failed her, and he knows that his partner in crime, the man he thinks of as a stepdad, must be hurting even more.

The young man has tried to seek the Captain out, to listen, or to ask for sailing lessons as a distraction – even to enlist the man in a new mission to help his mom together. However, it seems that lately Killian is avoiding his company, keeping his distance for no reason that makes any sense to Henry. When they are in close proximity, as when they had used the Crimson Crown to summon Merlin, Killian is as encouraging and loyal as ever, assuring Henry he has faith in him, but otherwise there is a distance that Henry doesn’t like. One that had not been there before. Even without all his memories, the boy is nearly certain of it.

Clutching the old ad in his hands, Henry looks down at the picture of the house now standing before him, and Killian’s flowing script indicating it as their choice. Henry doesn’t really understand what has happened. He doesn’t know what he needs to do – yet. But he will not be deterred. His mom deserves her Happy Ending. Just as she had been so determined to provide for everyone else, Henry is going to see that she receives no less. He knows Killian needs to be here in this house with them. He needs these two people – his parents, he hopes, if they can have two seconds of peace all together to enjoy it – to be back to themselves and in his life once more.

Sighing, he admits to himself that hope seems lost right now, but he won’t give up on Operation Light Swan, the joyous reunion he and Killian had planned, nor on Killian and Emma themselves. He loves them. They’re family. And in his circle at least, family always finds each other. This house is meant to be the happy home of their dreams, not a cold, lonely mausoleum where Emma can hide with her darkness and heartbreak. He’s the Author and the Truest Believer, and even if it is his mission alone now, he will find a way.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @stahlop @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @therooksshiningknight @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @thislassishooked @wefoundloveunderthelight @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @winterbaby89 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @cosette141 @xarandomdreamx @justanother-unluckysoul @xsajx @anmylica @motherkatereloyshipper @zaharadessert @nachocheese-itsmycheese @booksteaandtoomuchtv​ @kazoosandfannypacks​

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Prestidigitorium!”

When I originally wrote this little one shot after Season 5′s premiere episode (5x01), I remember being both excited and anxious for what was to come for Emma and those who love her most. I couldn’t help wanting to write a bit of sweet fluff for them, in the midst of all the angst that I’m now sure is on the way. (Boy, we couldn’t have even guessed at how angsty Season 5 would really get, could we?) I loved that little Emma in the flashback was seeing The Sword in the Stone, and the title of this is from that movie’s song Merlin sings while showing Wart how to pack magically.

Also available on A03 or ff.net (As part of my One Shot Collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts) if you prefer to read on one of those platforms.

Summary:  Canon Divergent 5a Missing Moment /// Sometime in what I hope is the near future, a simple family movie night after Emma has defeated the Darkness…

The little yellow cottage by the water seems lit from within on this chilly autumn evening as night begins to fall over Storybrooke, Maine. Though it hasn’t been home for long, Emma Swan’s first place of her own – that isn’t a tiny apartment in some huge, bustling city – is already exactly the cozy sanctuary she envisioned. It hasn’t been more than a couple of weeks since she moved her things in, settled into the space, and she is only now starting to feel that she really will be alright. She will be able to stay here in this little town, and she won’t have to fear hurting the ones she loves, because the darkness is finally, completely gone from inside her.

Most of that credit goes to her two True Loves seated right in front of her, part of the gathering in her little home tonight. Her sexy and sweetly devoted Captain, and her precious son who never stopped believing in her, are the ones who kept her fighting even when her battle against the Dark One curse began to feel hopeless – when she might have otherwise lay down in defeat and been subsumed by the horrific and overwhelming power that had coursed through her veins, aching to take her over.

Tonight is not about that though, even if she cannot help ruffling Henry’s hair with such an overflow of affection that it makes momentary tears well in her eyes as she pauses by the back of the sofa where he sits with little Roland Hood, waiting for everyone else to settle in with them to begin movie night. Killian is sitting quietly on Roland’s other side, clearly trying to appear extra calm and still, Emma can tell, because of the little boy in their care. Finally feeling like herself again, Emma had offered to babysit so Roland could join their little party and Regina and Robin could have a much-needed night alone to truly reconnect, talk, and heal. It made her feel even more accepted and restored to normal when Regina didn’t hesitate to accept her offer at all. Still, Roland hasn’t spent much time with any of them except Henry, and Emma finds it insanely adorable how hard her former pirate boyfriend is trying not to spook the child, to the point of keeping his hook shielded from view at his other side. As if sensing her thought, Killian tilts his head up against the back of the couch to look at her hovering over his shoulder.

“You’re thinking quite loudly, Swan,” he quips playfully, though she sees the unasked question in his eyes behind the jest. After all they have been through recently, he is especially attuned not to let her thoughts veer back toward guilt and fear over where she has been or what she has done, not if he can help it.

Emma bends down to kiss his forehead affectionately, happy to bestow any bit of encouragement or sweetness on him after the lengths he went to in order to bring her back and what he endured when she was not fully herself. She doesn’t want to dwell on those memories now, and so she keeps the kiss brief and innocent, standing again swiftly and shaking her head clear of the heavier thoughts. Tonight is meant to be happy – a celebration – and she intends to keep it so.

“How’s the popcorn coming in there?” she calls toward the kitchen where her dad is trying to work the microwave and prepare their snack, while keeping her little brother occupied as well.

“Yes, Dave, need a hand?” Killian quips, the old joke of his only having one to spare familiar and accepted between them.

“Everyone just needs to hold their horses a minute!” David admonishes, no real scold in his eyes though as he strides into the room, one arm holding little Neal balanced on his hip, while carrying two huge bowls of mouth-wateringly scented buttered popcorn, one in each hand. “I’ve got it under control.”

Henry jumps up quickly to take one of the bowls from his grandpa and allow the man a free hand. David settles into the recliner with his young son, digging into the popcorn for his own handful and his eyes widening in pleased delight. “Wow! This is incredible!”

Henry laughs aloud, and Emma shoots her father a knowing look from around the people sitting between them. “See? Didn’t I tell you so?” She nods with playful gratification. “You can’t have a great movie night without buttered popcorn.”

“One point to the modern world,” David acknowledges with a conciliatory nod.

Killian reaches over to the bowl, putting his own handful of the hot, salty treat in his mouth. His eyes widen comically as well, and he nods vigorously in agreement. “Oh, aye, this is something the Enchanted Forest should truly be sorry they are lacking!”

Everybody crams into the cozy, but admittedly small, living room of Emma’s waterfront cottage as Henry pushes play on the DVD player and the movie begins. He’s been going through the Disney classics with little Roland, who is still wide-eyed and amazed by so much in the modern world, but clearly adores both the real world magic of animation and a catchy song as much as any other child. The selection for tonight is The Sword in the Stone, and though both Killian and her father had started to protest, afraid their recent adventures and trials – and how different Arthur, Merlin, and Camelot itself had proven to be from the legend they had known – might be upsetting or painful for Emma and all of them, Emma herself had urged them to let the boys pick. She could see the appeal in comparing the made-up story to a place they had just been able to experience for themselves.

What she didn’t say aloud was that the real ache in her chest came not from remembering Arthur’s machinations and veiled treachery or the danger they had all faced, but from the memories of this movie being the first one she had ever seen in a theater, how she’d had to sit all alone with no one to buy her snacks, laugh along with her, or be sure she was enjoying herself. She remembered all too well having to walk past the popcorn in the theater lobby with no money of her own, and the way she had so easily filched a candy bar from that other theatergoer without thinking twice. Perhaps the Darkness had always been in there with her light, long before she could have possibly understood…

As the cartoon reached the spot where Wart wonders into Merlin’s cottage and the bearded old wizard is magically packing his entire home into a single bag with his “Higitus Figitus” song, Emma can’t help curling in a little closer to Killian from where she has already wedged herself onto the couch between him and the sofa’s arm, leaning her head sadly on his shoulder.

“Alright there, Lass?” he whispers, breath warm and soft on her forehead so as not to disturb their younger viewers.

“Fine,” she answers shortly, knowing she’ll tell him later about how that scene had only served to remind her of all the times she had been packed back up from a foster home and sent away again. For now she only wants to snuggle up to his warmth and be glad he is still here with her, despite what she had almost become.

However, when she gets up later to check on popcorn and drink refills, she simply has to bring the two boys candy bars when she returns, and somehow with their smiles and excited thanks, and the arm of her pirate wrapped around her once again, the void from so many years ago is finally filled.

Tagging: @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @xarandomdreamx @sotangledupinit @scientificapricot @winterbaby89 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @cosette141 @anmylica @xsajx @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @stahlop @wefoundloveunderthelight @motherkatereloyshipper​ @kday426​ @gingerchangeling​ @gingerpolyglot​ @tomeandflickcorner​ @caught-in-the-filter @ineffablecolors @nachocheese-itsmycheese @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl

[snowbellewells]

Self-Promo Sunday: “And by a Sleep, We Hope to End the Heartache”

*** Sorry I’m late with the Sunday re-run this week! I’ve had the cover art made and this story picked out, but just haven’t been able to get it posted past couple of weeks. Anyway, this story was originally written for the second edition of the @csstorybook​ on Tumblr – go check that out if you haven’t, it’s amazing!!  My episode for that project was 5x04 “Broken Kingdom” and I wanted to imagine how Killian might have tried to help comfort a sleepless Emma as she fought the darkness within.  Hope you enjoy!  I’d love – as always – to hear what you think!

This can also be found as a chapter in my one-shots collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts” on AO3 or on ff.net...

             “Lass…Emma… Love, please, you have to stop…” his quiet voice, vibrating with emotion despite its soothing timbre, still somehow managed to slice through the paranoia, the swirling images, and yammering voices roiling inside her skull.  It was the one thing, other than her son’s hopeful, trusting face, which had managed to do so since she had risen from the ominous hatch in the Camelot forest, alone, confused, and the newest Dark One.  Her stride faltered at his plea, her step finally pausing before the window of the castle suite they had been given by Arthur for their accommodation.

             Looking over her shoulder to find his fraught gaze, Emma turned slightly toward the pirate, a glance half exasperation and half desperate need on her conflicted face.  “What do you want from me, Killian?” she whispered tiredly, her shoulders slumping with a weary defeat he had rarely seen from her.  He had no way of knowing that Emma desired nothing so much as to cross the large open chamber and collapse into his arms, as she had a week ago when they’d first found her in the stone circle about to crush Merida’s heart.  His embrace tight around her, his heart beating frantically just under her palm, those few moments had been the only time the riot inside her head had seemed to cease – when she could think clearly, as only herself.  She needed that relief again, and yet she feared letting down her guard, even for a moment’s comfort.  She was barely keeping all the violent, persuasive urges twining through her consciousness at bay, barely keeping all the raw power tingling under her skin from breaking free.  She could not allow herself the peace of Killian’s embrace; rest might let the horrors loose upon them all. 

             Her pirate watched her knowingly, his eyes gentle, yet seeing and understanding too much as his discerning gaze studied her from across the room.  Those blue pools of his stare took in the way she vibrated slightly, no matter how she tried to hold still.  He saw the tangled, disheveled fall of her hair – usually more a silky sheet of gold – the strange, rough grey duster she wore, still trailing dirt and dried leaves from the forest floor behind her.  This was his Swan before him yet, but she was in distress and guarded once more, in a way she had finally begun to put in her past – and he experienced a disorienting, long rush of despair at how to help her.  He only knew for certain that he must find a way.

             “Come here, Lass,” he finally murmured, half a directive and half an appeal, as he held out his hand to her from where he sat at the edge of the room’s large canopy bed. 

             “Why?” she fired back nervously.  “I’m the Dark One now.  I don’t sleep, remember?”

             The unhinged tone in her voice, as well as the unvarnished bitterness, worried him more than he cared to admit.  Killian hesitated, biting his lip and considering his next words carefully.  His pause only seemed to agitate her further.  Why indeed?  And yet, he could not help but want her near, wish to gather her to his side, run the curve of his hook down her spine, and attempt to soothe her, bring her some measure of comfort, however ineffectual it might prove in the end.

             Heaving a deep sigh, Killian forced his voice to remain slow and even, despite his frustration and his utter anger at the situation his Love had been cast into.  Crooking his fingers in invitation, beckoning her forward while keeping his hand extended to her palm up, he raised an eyebrow slightly in challenge.  “Nor am I trying to force you to, Emma. I have not forgotten what you are battling, but can I not try to aid you in the fight?  Can I not hold the woman I love for a few moments?”

             Her lower lip trembled in response, before she pressed her mouth tightly closed, considering his offer, the longing clear on her face, until she let her swirling green eyes meet his at last.  “Y-you still…you still see me?” she finally whispered, her voice desperately fearful, quivering at the end with hope.

             There was no need for flowery words, only to hold her gaze, give a decided, affirmative nod and answer, “Aye.”

             At that single word, Emma took one hesitant, faltering step toward him, then another, until he could clasp her hand in his questing fingers and pull her against him, sitting at the edge of the rich, overlarge bed.  Mumbling quiet nonsense, Killian tucked Emma under his chin, cradling the back of her head in his palm and rocking them gently from side to side.  “Shh, Love, shh… it’s going to be alright,” he crooned, injecting steadfast certainty he wished he truly felt into his tone.

             Emma’s voice was broken and child-like as she spoke, her words muffled slightly by the leather of his sleeve.  “How can it be?” she asked plaintively.  There was something achingly human about her now, when before she had seemed so steely and impervious – untouchable as she stood at the window like a sentry, proud and strong, but cold and hard as well, looking out over the courtyard into the dark night.  The power within her was a distancing shield, a barrier higher and more impenetrable than her emotional walls had ever been.  Pulling back again briefly to look into the limitless eyes of this man who had pulled her back from the brink, her face was flushed and wet with silently shed tears, as real and vulnerable as he had ever seen her.  “I’m hanging by a thread, Killian.  There’s so much pressing inside, trying to escape, and the voices, the Dark Ones before me, they’re constantly whispering, watching, tempting me and trying to take over.  If I let my guard slip, if they get loose…  I’m terrified of what might happen, what I might do… who I might hurt…” The last words dropped to the barest whisper, her eyes falling to their intertwined fingers anxiously, unable to see the disgust and disapproval that must surely be on the face that had always before been nothing short of adoring.

             However, what she found when she looked up was far from devastating – so tender it made her very pulse still, bringing her up short and blinking in disbelief.  “That will never happen, Emma.  I know it with every fiber of my being, as surely as I know the way around my ship and as clearly as the navigator’s course is marked by the stars in the sky. You are stronger than that demon, Love.  Though I hate that you must fight so bitterly, I have no doubt that you will win.”

             “Thank you for believing in me, Killian,” she bit her lip, the lower one caught by her teeth, and she continued to play with their fingers, again avoiding his eyes to stare at their joined hands.  “But I can’t help worrying.  You can’t know that for sure!  When you found me yesterday evening, trying to take the dagger from Regina’s hiding place, I nearly took your head off!  It was your quick reflexes that saved you, not any restraint of mine.  I wasn’t in my right mind at all.  Wh- what if you had been killed?  What if you had been Henry?  Or my mom with my little brother?”

             Killian sighed, giving a moment for Emma to feel her words had sunk in, gathering her closer still against his chest and pressing his lips to the soft hair at the crown of her head, humming gently against her skin, hoping to quiet her anxious quaking in his arms.  When he did speak at last, his voice was low, a mere warm undertone at her ear.  “Swan, you have already fought back since then.  Think of our ride this afternoon, and that moment of perfection in the Middlemist field.  The Crocodile’s vile echo, any of the others, they were not present then, were they?  Those insidious voices vanished, aye?  Do not grant them a way back in.”

             Emma nodded weakly, burying her adorably perfect little nose into his thickly furred chest, as if it were the softest pillow she had ever rested against.  Killian had never seen her so fragile – his angel of boots and leather and steely resolve – and though his heart swelled that she would finally turn to him in her need, he hated the burden she bore.  It was too much, too much to ask of a woman who had been so strong and carried such hurt all her life.  A little sigh escaped her rosebud lips, the breathe tickling his collarbone, and Killian felt a rush of tension and wild energy drain from her, her shoulders slumping and her slight form leaning against him more heavily for support.

             “So, do you think you can allow yourself a bit of peace?” he asked, smoothing mussed strands of her hair back over her shoulder affectionately, just as he had done almost since their first meeting.

             Emma only muttered unintelligibly against him at first, before she finally put enough distance between them for him to make out her husky voice.  “I’ll lie down with you and try to rest a bit.  You still need to sleep, Pirate.  But I won’t…it won’t work…I’ve figured that out by now.  It’s just the way it is…”

             “Fair enough then, Swan.  I will make do with what I can get,” he assured her, offering a crooked half-smile and scooting back toward the pillows piled at the head of the bed while still keeping her in his embrace.

             She made no effort to distance herself, moving with him and placing her hand over his heart near her flushed cheek as he settled comfortably on the mattress, looking up at the high, stone ceiling above them.  His one hand began to trace idle patterns on her shoulder and arm as they cuddled together, neither drifting into sleep yet, but perhaps finding a bit of respite all the same.

Eventually, when Killian did find his eyes fluttering closed, he began to speak, softly and almost without thought.  He would not leave her alone in her struggle, and so he began to fill the void with words to keep himself awake and with her.  To his own astonishment, what came to his lips were tales he had long forgotten until that moment, memories from when he was but a lad long ago, which no other person had heard – not even Milah or Bae – until that moment.  And he was grateful then for Emma’s warmth and full attention as he spoke, emotions that had needed vent for centuries were now finally loosed – all the pain and rejection of being left alone and afraid in the dark, a child who had started out on an adventure with his papa and instead been thrown rudderless into the heaving waves of a cruel and treacherous adult world. 

His voice dwelt haltingly on his one light – both his anchor and his compass – his Liam.  Once begun, the story of their stolen boyhood streamed from him, the bits and pieces of the beloved older brother who had been his companion and the only family left to him, in a harsh, dark world of slavery and bleak deprivation.  Liam, who had told him stories when he couldn’t sleep for the suffocating pitch blackness of the hold where they were sometimes locked at night merely for the sake of the other crew’s entertainment or for some imagined mistake; the growing young man who had given half his rations to his gangly younger brother whose belly never felt properly full; who had found a way to splint Killian’s ankle when the sadistic bosun on their master’s ship  had yanked and twisted it to keep Killian from scaling the ropes to the crow’s nest where he could hide from the hulking man’s mistreatment; the protective father figure who had curled around his sibling offering body heat when they both shivered in their bunk, one threadbare blanket between them on winter nights at sea, and his hero who had given Killian the one gleam of hope he had possessed in those endless suffering years. It had all been pent inside him for so long that once he began to speak of Liam, Killian couldn’t bring himself to stop until it was all voiced.  Liam Jones had been taken from the world much too soon, and Killian had not allowed himself to grieve – taken to piracy and retribution, plunging headlong down the ages -  until that moment in Arthur’s kingdom with his silently listening True Love.

His deluge of words did not seem to faze Emma; in fact, she appeared to welcome his outpouring, tracing gentle fingertips over the contours of his face and into his hair, the strokes as soothing as his touch had been to her a short time ago.  Killian didn’t know how long he talked and Emma listened attentively, but his eyelids at last drooped closed in the still watches of the night, his voice slowing and tripping sluggishly, exhaustion and flagging adrenaline towing him under until he could not fight sleep any longer.  He thought he saw Emma’s hand wave over him, but then he was lost in slumber. 

 ~~~88~~~

When he woke with the next day’s dawn, the spot where she had rested beside him was still warm, but Emma was no longer there.

 ~~~88~~~

              They set up a reassuring pattern after that.  Night after night, for as long as they were guests in the castle of Camelot, Killian could at least coax Emma to lie down in the circle of his arms and rest her weary body, if not her mind, in actual sleep.  It was better than nothing, and the pirate strove with all he had to stay awake with her, to keep vigil at her side through the lonely grey hours, when she was most vulnerable and her strength might flag.  Exhausted though they both were, it could have been so much worse, and Killian was grateful for what she did allow him to do.  The first time he had fallen into slumber and woken with her gone, his heart had been in his throat, fearful for where she might have gone and what horror could have gripped her and spurred her from their resting place.  However, when he found her where they all convened for breakfast, a tiny, almost light, smile curved her lips upward at the corners when she spied him.  Something in her face let him know that she appreciated what he had shared, that he had allowed her to comfort him, and that somehow in granting her that caring gesture, he had made her feel more human and given her back a bit of herself.

             Those sleepless nights in the broken kingdom of legend’s Once and Future King, when Emma curled into his side and he finally felt the shaking ease from the taut muscles she had held under rigid control all that day, more terrified with each passing one that she might slip and do some terrible magic she couldn’t take back, and he sensed more than heard her say that the hissing demons in her mind had ceased their torment for a while – those nights were when their fragile love, born in Storybrooke over moonlit walks, pizza with Netflix, and interrupted coffee dates, took root and grew into something dauntless, lasting, and True.  From those nights he held her until his body gave up and forced him to sleep, or they both stayed awake and saw the morning paint the sky together, from then on Captain Hook and his Swan Savior were joined in a bond which could not be severed by distance or foe, the Darkness, or even Fate.

             Once they left the land of Avalon, there was further pain and trial.  The fatal cut from Excalibur would have been Killian’s death; he had been resigned to it, had lived much longer than he’d ever been meant to and begged Emma to let him go.  But the threat of losing her pirate – her reason to finally open her heart again and let herself fully live – caused Emma to make a tragic mistake.  The temptation that had finally broken her resistance and blackened her soul after all her desperate struggle and restraint, was made in bending the laws of nature to keep him alive.  His angel fell to the need to save him, to not lose one more person who loved her and allowed her to love – to feel – in return.  And when she crumbled, it drug him into the pit along with her.  Harsh words and rage, bitten into blades that wounded and scarred, passed between the True Loves who then shared the worst Darkness the realms had ever known.

             Yet, after the torture, the fire, and one more crippling separation, they found the way back to each other.  Exhausted, battered, but hand-in-hand, after traveling to the very Underworld itself and defying the lord of that domain, in the end even death could not part the Savior and her captain forever.  When they finally stole a moment upon their return – tripping tangled together up the front steps of the house that Killian and Henry had chosen by the dim light of the stars on a chilly May night in Storybrooke, Emma was so sleepy she was nearly punch drunk in her sailor’s grasp as he barely managed to catch her before she fell onto the wooden porch.  Both of them were chuckling lightly, blearily only half awake, but so glad to be alone together and safe, at least for a moment, that anything else could wait.  It had been a long time coming, and the austere hall and front room were somewhat haunted yet by their distorted alters’ presences and the barbs they had thrown, but they bypassed that silent space – it would keep for the morrow – to finally enter the bedroom they had always meant to share.

             The peace which washed over Emma in that moment they fell together, sinking into the thick, cushy comforter, navy blue dotted by tiny white anchors she had chosen with him in mind, and the joy she felt at the sleep-muted delight on his face on first glimpse of them, was the most comfort she had felt since he stole her away on horseback that afternoon in Camelot.  It seemed lifetimes ago now, though she could still feel the pink petals of the Middlemist flower he had handed her in that green haven and the sun slanting down on their faces as they had kissed.

             She realized then that though there was healing still to be done, they had once more reached the place of hope they had found amidst the dazzling field of blooms and golden light.  There was the promise of forever in that hazy remembered moment, with the white dress and cape, the wind in her hair, the kiss that had swept her up in delight. Though the sky had been their only witness, Emma had felt her heart blend irrevocably with his in that moment, and there in their home by the sea, weeks or months later, so jarring and confused she hardly knew which, as he pulled the sheet and blankets up to her chin before huddling beneath them with her and hoping to banish the world outside, it felt as if they were finally going to enjoy the vow that had been made between them in that fairy tale scene rose-tinted in her mind’s eye. With Killian at her back, arms wrapped around her so that hand and hook could rest upon her skin, and his nose nuzzled warmly at the nape of her neck, at long last Emma finally slept.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615​ @searchingwardrobes​ @kmomof4​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @laschatzi​ @jrob64​ @apiratewhopines​ @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @sotangledupinit​ @anmylica​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @gingerchangeling​ @gingerpolyglot​ @optomisticgirl​ @tiganasummertree​ @spartanguard​ @therooksshiningknight​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @elizabeethan​ @donteattheappleshook​ @drowned-dreamer​ @justanother-unluckysoul​ @cosette141​ @xarandomdreamx​

[snowbellewells]

@welllpthisishappening Oh my goodness, yes to all of this! I love that you gave us some time for a breath, some reflection, some healing in the frantic rush that was season six’s plot. (There was so much more to be done with Jekyll and Hyde and they just ended them both so abruptly, but I digress... 😜) Anyway, it seemed so clear to me that Killian made his strike just in time to save Belle, it was defending an innocent, but his painful guilt and self doubt here was so palpable as you wrote it. I don’t know how I didn’t consider it before.

I also love that you have Emma coming to find him, rushing to his side and trying to make him feel whole again, to offer what a solution she can. The show so often leaves him to his own mourning or brooding, not letting Emma go to him except maybe later as an afterthought, even though they are supposed to be True Loves. What you have done here seems so much more in-character, and so much more fulfilling. Can we make your version canon for the end of that episode?!? You also capture Emma so feel, not particularly comfortable or eloquent trying to put things into words, but trying her best for Killian’s sake. It’s wonderful.

There were lots of lovely bits throughout— but this might have been my favorite little segment: “Killian's gaze snaps up, meeting hers with an intensity that's equal parts overwhelming and, well, that's it. It's a little overwhelming. The way he looks at her and the way she feels about him...”

Quite Where to Start

Hey remember that time Killian straight up killed Dr. Jekyll in season six and no one talked about it ever? Surprise, I remember it. And have feelings. That I also remembered while listening to the OBC of Jekyll & Hyde. As you do. Seriously, come talk to me about this musical. Also, today, I realized I have in fact hit a pretty absurd follow milestone and while my fic-writing feelings have been a little all over the place recently, I ignored adult responsibilities for like an hour to slam on keys. Here’s the product of that slamming.

—

Every inch of her feels heavy. There’s a weight to her steps that Emma was certain, after everything, curses and darkness and what felt like several different ends of the world would be over by now, but the world is a joke and the door handle in her hand is frustratingly cold.

She twists it anyway, ignoring the way the distinct lack of temperature slinks through her, settling under her skin and timing up with her pulse and–

The lights are off.

Emma blinks, once, twice, three times, glancing around the living room she’s only sixty-two percent certain isn’t actually expanding in front of her. Her tongue darts between her suddenly dry lips, a sharp inhale that stings her nose and, somehow, makes her shoulders droop a little more and she can’t believe killing Regina may be her only option.

She feels a little sick to her stomach, bile and emotion mixing in the back of her throat and making her vision swim just a bit. The air around her doesn’t help, any sense of even breathing disappearing as quickly as it takes her to realize she never actually closed the door behind her and–

She can hear the water running upstairs.

“Killian?”

Nothing. Just water and questionably heavy air and–

“Oh fuck,” Emma breathes, realization slamming into every inch of her and threatening to make her knees buckle. She’s an idiot. An idiot and an ass and–just the absolute worst. And after everything, curses and darkness and the possibility of something entirely brand-new…she should have realized.

She runs, taking the steps three at a time until something pops in the general vicinity of her hips and the water sounds louder when she skids to a stop in front of their room.

Their room.

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