#answers for @itsfabianadocarmo

[snowbellewells]

Once upon a time for the ask game thingy hehe

Okay, both you @itsfabianadocarmo and @cosette141 asked for my answers on this for OuaT, so here goes!!! 😜

Fandom Ask Game

Send me a movie/book/show and I'll tell you:

favorite character: I mean, the obvious answer here is Killian Jones. And, believe me, I do love our pirate hero very, very much. But my true favorite character of the entire show (hopefully no one throws me out of the CS fandom for this) is Sheriff Graham/the Huntsman. I just adored him from the first time we met him. My heart still breaks for him. And I am always going to think he deserved better (and we deserved more of him!)

least favorite character: Probably either Cora/the Queen of Hearts or Gothel/Eloise Gardiner in Season 7

brOTP: I do really enjoy some Captain Charming - they have such a fun bros and family both connection! - but my heart really belongs to Killian and Belle. Captain Book/Captain Beauty, whichever you want to call it is such a lovely friendship. I treasure every teeny little scene of it we got to see. There’s something so redemptive and wonderful in them overcoming their past animosity and becoming friends, and I absolutely adore them bonding and having each other’s backs! 💖

OTP: It’s Captain Swan, absolutely, all the way, they’ve really taken over most of my imagination and free time! 😅 (In all fairness, I did at the start think Gremma, or HuntSwan, could be my True Love OTP, but the show very literally killed that possibility. And of course, we then met a certain dashing rapscallion who managed to win Emma’s heart… 😏)

OT3: This isn’t really a category I give lots of thought. I have read some amazing fic though with Liam/Killian/Emma as an OT3. The one that I’d call my favorite though is what I’ve sometimes seen called Irish Swan Trio: Killian/Graham/Emma. (That I would happily read more of, if it was more commonly written. 🤭)

NOTP: I have (very rarely, thankfully) stumbled upon mostly modern au fics that have Regina and Graham hooking up, or friends with benefits, or friendly exes. I absolutely cannot handle that; it is so far from what that situation truly was and it’s just upsetting to his memory. I’m also not at all a fan or HookedQueen or SwanQueen. Neither of those make much sense to me, nor does Regina even seem to like either of them much or treat them at all well. Why would they be in a relationship?

favorite storyline: It’s probably, honestly, season one. Where we first see Emma coming to Storybrooke, getting to know her son, discovering magic and fairytales are real, figuring out who all the townspeople were in the storybook, all of that. The magic is so enchanting in that first season, and it seems the most tightly well-written to me. I often say the first season’s only real flaws are Graham’s death and Killian not being there yet!

If that’s too huge a chunk to be a favorite storyline, then I’d probably say the Save Henry trip to Neverland.

least favorite storyline: I am not a fan of the second half of Season 2. It gets all convoluted and disjointed to me, and Greg and Tamara were so pointless and annoying. I don’t know if that’s so much a storyline as a least favorite segment because there doesn’t seem to be as clear a storyline, but there you are all the same. 🤷🏼‍♀️

what I wish had happened but didn't: I’m never going to stop wishing that Emma and Killian had gotten a rainbow blast True Love’s Kiss like all the other True Love couples. I know their True Love was proven in another way, but still, come on!!! 🤨

Even more than that though, I wish

1) that Emma and Killian would have had a secret small, private wedding in the Underworld with Liam performing it so he could be there, which would be an excellent callback to Snow and Charming’s first private wedding performed by Lancelot so Charming’s mother could be there.

And 2) that when we learned about the meanings behind the gravestones in the Underworld they would have gone and found Graham’s and at least learned that he had passed on and was at peace.

**Maybe I should have mentioned 5b as a not-so-favored storyline - so much potential wasted!

what happened that I wish hadn't: I would have loved them to do so much more with Jekyll and Hyde (and Jafar, for that matter) rather than split Queenie and the Black Fairy in Season 6 😝 I also would not have had Ruby run off with Dorothy.

[thejollyroger-writer]

hi

brownstones, water towers, trees, skyscrapers 

Johanna drove slowly into the city

you should take it as a compliment, that I–

the screen door slams, mary’s dress sways

oh lord, oh lord, what have I done? 

Send me a ‘hi’ and I will put my playlist on shuffle, write down the first line of five songs and give it to you as a poem. 

[elizabeethan]

Forgot about WIP Wednesday so

Happy TIT Thursday

Here’s the first section of chapter 7 of My Dreams Lie With You!

The air was unseasonably cool a few nights after they returned from the curse. It wasn’t the first time they had been freed from the clutches of a cursed life, and David could only hope that it would be the last. As he sat on the patio of Granny’s beside the heating tower, waiting for his wife and son to arrive after a long day at the station, he thought.

He thought of his daughter, of the way she was taken from her own life once more, manipulated and used by people who should care for her. He thought of his grandson and the way he had to watch as his father was murdered by someone who should love him. He thought of his granddaughter, the girl he only met a few months prior, but for whom he would do anything.

He thought of the father of that little girl. The man who so diligently worked and worked, refusing to give up until the curse was broken. The man who somehow managed to break a curse through True Love’s Kiss with a woman who thought she didn’t know him. The man who was able to dedicate so much of his time caring for his daughter even though she had no memory of loving him. Killian Jones hadn’t always seemed like a man of honor to David Nolan, but after finding out what he did during the curse, while he himself was comatose and unable to care for his family, his mind was changed.

Thinking of the devil had made him appear, the ruthless pirate-turned-family-man arriving at the diner shortly after David had and reaching for a chair, waiting for Emma to arrive the same way David waited for Snow. He was jovial, happier than David could have expected after what he and his family had been through, although he supposed breaking a curse would do that to a man.

“Evening, Dave,” he had greeted happily as he had taken a seat at the same table without invitation.

“Evening. You're in a good mood.”

The man shrugged, a joyous smirk ticking at the corner of his mouth, although he seemed unwilling to share his happy news. “Aye,” he had agreed casually.

He could have pressed, could have begged for information until he found out what had the pirate in such high spirits, but a part of him almost didn’t want to know. A lot had changed over the months, the man he used to hate moving in with his daughter and grandchildren, and he had learned to roll with the punches and get used to the fact that this man was here to stay.

Finally, after moments of silence, David had settled on what to say, organizing through his thoughts until he settled on: “I want to thank you, Killian.”

“What’s that, mate?” he had asked, looking up as if David had startled him out of his thoughts.

“Thank you. For doing what you did. You saved my whole family from that curse.” It’s the truth, and David had been working for months to see past the selfish man he used to know only to uncover a man of honor and truth. If not for what he had done, what he had accomplished miraculously, his son would still live in a curse, raised by nuns and never allowed to know his family.

“It’s all in a day's work,” Killian had answered nonchalantly, unable to take the compliment in a way that reminded him starkly of his daughter.

“No, what you did… You saved everyone. I know Emma appreciates it, too.”

“I’d go to the end of the world for her,” he said seriously, his tone having shifted into one of almost frightening honesty. “For all of them.”

He nodded, looking down at his wedding ring and turning it on his finger in thought, although he needn’t think too much. There wasn’t an ounce of David’s soul that could not have believed him. “I know.”

@courtorderedcake​ @kmomof4​ @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​ @laschatzi @emelizabeth88​ @lfh1226-linda​ @kday426​ @timeless-love-story​​ @captain-emmajones​ @gingerpolyglot​ @ebcaver​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​ @teamhook​​ @superchocovian​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​ @tiganasummertree​​ @gingerchangeling​​ @jrob64​​ @onceratheart18​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @winterbaby89​​ @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy​​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything​​ @shireness-says​​ @snowbellewells​​ @hollyethecurious​​ @ouatpost​​ @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly​​ @donteattheappleshook​​ @eeteeaytay​​ @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere​​ @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic​​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​​ @qualitycoffeethings​​ @rapunzelsghosts​​ @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice​​ @batana54​​ @sailtoafarawayland​​ @deckerstarblanche​​ @zaharadessert​​ @xarandomdreamx​​ @pirateprincessofpizza​​ @captainswan21​​ @hookedmom​​ @lostintheskyfaraway​​ @undercaffinatednightmare​​ @strangestarlighttree​​ @emmythedaydreamer @killianslefthook​​ @sarcasticandromantic @last-tsarina

[kymbersmith90ff]

Read All About It: Chapter 1

Summary: Using Twitter to ask an actual princess on a date may not have been Killian's best idea - until it was.

The credit for the wonderful banners for this story goes to @hollyethecurious​ and @itsfabianadocarmo​. Thank you both so much! 

Killian’s parents were stunned into silence by the picture on their son’s phone. They would never have believed him if it hadn’t been for the photographic evidence. After all, how often does one run into an actual princess on the streets of London?  

“Well, I suppose we can forgive you this time,” his father told him, handing back the device. “Now, how about we eat before you show us around the city like you promised?”

Killian waited until he was back in the safety of his hotel room before he took to social media to post one of the pictures. He did a quick search first for the princess’s accounts before uploading his favourite shot with the caption:

Had a fanboy moment of my own this morning when I quite literally ran into @PrincessEmma in London. Thanks for being such a great sport.

It took him far longer than he would ever admit to compose the message that would accompany the picture Anton had taken. Once he was happy with it, Killian hit submit - sharing it first to Instagram, then to Twitter, and finally, on his rarely used Facebook page.  

When he was finished, he flopped back onto his bed with the phone clutched tightly in his hands. He was acting like a love-struck teenager, and he needed to snap out of it. There was absolutely no way he would ever see her again, so there was no need for those butterflies to be present in his stomach once more. But that understanding didn’t stop him from setting the picture as his wallpaper before he locked the device and went to take a shower.  

When he emerged from the bathroom, Killian was far more relaxed than he had been since his body had collided with hers. (And if it was because he’d taken himself into hand whilst thinking of the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest, then nobody else ever needed to know about that.) Killian dropped down onto the edge of his bed and reached for the remote to turn on the game. There was so little live football shown on TV in Vancouver, and it was something he definitely missed while he was busy working, so he always made sure to take advantage of any and all games he could get; when he was back home.  

Killian left the TV on with the pre-game commentary droning away in the background as he pulled on a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt to order room service. His parents had made their excuses to go back to their room at around five, stating that they were tired from their early morning journey to London and all of the walking they had done when Killian had finally arrived. With no other plans for his evening, Killian found himself with plenty of time to kill. Room Service and football had seemed like the best way to end his day.

After calling down for steak and a couple of beers, he allowed himself to relax back into the small sofa in his room and turned his attention to his phone. Robin was also back in the UK, and Killian knew that if any of his friends would be watching the game that evening, it would be him.  

As he hit the home button, his phone lit up to show hundreds of messages on his social media accounts. All thoughts of Robin and a friendly bet on the game disappeared as he took a moment to briefly scan through the posts.  There were plenty of likes on Instagram; a few people asking who Princess Emma was and others answering for him (because clearly, some people couldn’t be bothered to read the caption); and a handful of random comments that he’d become incredibly used to over the years. His Facebook post was much the same but featured a comment from Robin that read:

Jammy git! Does she smell as pretty as she looks?

Killian didn’t bother dignifying that with a public response. Instead, he quickly closed out of the app and opened up Twitter. He briefly thumbed through the likes and retweet notifications to see if anyone caught his eye. There were plenty of replies to the image there too, but he wasn’t entirely fussed about those. Most of them were from fans, begging for his attention.

Killian was just about to close out of the app when he saw it. Buried amongst the many notifications was the one he was most hoping to see. She had asked to be tagged in the photo, after all.  

Princess Emma had retweeted Killian’s initial post; and added her own comment to it.

@KillianJones1 You played that pretty cool for a fanboy moment. I was the one that was freaking out.

Killian wanted to squeal like the teenager he’d been slowly turning into all day. Not only had she noticed the tweet, but she’d also replied to it. When he clicked on the message in full, he noticed that she was following his account too. A part of him wanted to scroll through her following list to see if it was a recent development or if she’d been following him for a while now, but he held himself back from doing so.

This time, he didn’t even stop to think before he typed out his reply.  

@PrincessEmma Not at all.I was the 1mowing U down in the street.I’m surprised U didnt recoil in disgust at how I was sweating in Ur presence

Killian hit send, then navigated away from the Twitter app before he could spend any more time analysing Princess Emma’s message. He really needed some sort of distraction, and it came in the form of his best friend and the football match on TV, so Killian sent Robin a quick message to see if he was watching the game.

Unsurprisingly, Robin was far more interested in Killian’s meeting that afternoon than he was in the football match taking place that evening. Instead of replying to his friend’s message, he’d obviously decided that a phone call was needed, as Killian’s phone began vibrating in his hand only seconds after his message had shown as delivered.

“You sly dog, you. I can’t believe you managed to run into Princess Emma in the middle of London! I spend more time there than you ever do, and that’s never happened to me before.”

Killian chuckled at Robin’s enthusiasm as he turned down the TV to better hear his friend.  

“Well, what can I say? It must be my Irish charm.”  

“I highly doubt that,” Robin snorted into the phone, “But whatever it is, I have to admit, I’m burning with jealousy right now. Tell me everything! What was she like in person? Is she as pretty as the magazines and TV make her look? Does she smell like sunshine and roses…?” Robin trailed off dreamily, and this time, it was Killian’s turn to snort.  

“She’s incredibly beautiful in person, and she smells just as pretty as she looks.”

“Ugh. Is it treason to say she’s top of my spank-bank list?” Robin wondered aloud.  

Killian choked on his drink as his mind briefly flashed to the mental images he’d conjured in the shower earlier that evening.  

“God, I hope not.”  

Robin’s sharp bark of laughter told Killian that he’d probably spoken the words aloud, and he flushed at that confession. His friend would likely never let him forget it.  

“Moving swiftly on… who do you fancy for the game tonight?” he asked, quickly changing the subject and praying that his friend would let him.  

There was a moment of tense silence before Robin finally said, “United all the way, mate. Who in their right mind would bet against them?”

                                      When the game was finished, and Killian had left his empty dishes outside the door to his room, he made his way over to the bed with the intention of getting an early night. His parents were sure to come knocking as soon as the hotel began serving breakfast, and the last thing he needed was to be dragged all over London on only a few hours of sleep.  

Killian quickly stripped off his t-shirt then slid into the king-sized bed wearing only his lounge pants. His hand hovered over the bedside table as the impulse to turn off the lights warred with the urge to check his tweets one final time. Knowing that he probably wouldn’t get any sleep until he had, Killian sighed heavily and diverted his hand towards his phone.

He wasn’t really expecting to find anything when he opened up the app - and he almost didn’t. It wasn’t until he headed to Princess Emma’s page that he saw the message which had been well hidden amongst his notifications.  

@KillianJones1 Well,I can honestly say I’ve never met a more attractive sweaty person before in my life-And trust me,I make many a man sweat

“Fuck me!”  

Killian ran a sharp hand through his hair as he read her message over and over again.  

Was the Princess of Cambridge flirting with him… on Twitter?

[the-darkdragonfly]

Chapter Nineteen: The Curse

NEW CHAPTER! The Ripple Effect - A Captain Swan Tale

well well well, aren't I just a big liar today? I was going to post this tomorrow, but: a) I have no chill b) tomorrow is a crazy day at work and I didn't want to get sidetracked c) I wanted to so... here we are! xox

Cannon Divergent - Season 3 finale. So many feels. Emma & Killian are trapped in the past, unable to get back to the future; will they be able to find a home with each other?

A tale of a broken wand, a far away land, and two lost souls destined to find a home together.

Thank you to the world’s best beta and most wonderful human ever @elizabeethan ❤

Need to catch up? Read the Tale here

* * *

Killian had told her tales of his Jolly, as she lay wrapped in the strong comfort of his embrace. He whispered of how she was special, enchanted, of how she had kept him safe and whole for centuries longer than she ought to have.

Emma had listened, lulled into a state of half sleep by the low timber of his voice, smooth and low like the rumble of a distant storm. Images of a darkly dressed figure at the helm of a brightly painted ship washed across her mind, the gleaming yellow of the gunwale paint so stark a contrast with the wrath and anger he had wrapped himself in for so long.

Enchanted.

She had smiled, a wistful sort of happiness settling in her bones at the thought. And as she’d stood on the gleaming deck one last time, her daughter safe and warm and solid in her arms, she felt a stirring within her blood of something she had almost forgotten the feeling of.

Magic.

It skittered under the surface of her skin, familiar and almost within reach. It was fleeting, like something she should remember, but her mind was sluggish and foggy, unable to bring it to the surface.

She had managed to extract the wooden disk from Hope’s grasp, dangling a different treasure in front of the baby’s gaze, a prettily coloured sea shell which Killian had found for her on their beach a few days before. Killian spent hours together walking the length of the sea’s edge, the calls of the gulls above them a familiar soundtrack they had listened to for over a year, Hope clinging to his side like a blue-eyed koala.

The disk was smooth and soft against her fingers while it sat heavily in her palm, a faint tingle like pins and needles speeding up her forearms before disappearing into nothing, a reminder of the home he had given up for her.

Emma sat waiting for him, the tea she had brewed sitting untouched, growing cold in the delicate China cup Killian had gifted her for their first wedding anniversary- it’s supposed to be paper- as he blushed while explaining wedding milestone gifts he had researched- but I had hoped you wouldn’t mind- and she smiled the smile which was just for him and kissed him thoroughly.

She had asked him, fingers carding through his hair- you need a haircut, again- what year China was supposed to be, while his teeth ghosted across her throat, the feel of her pulse thrumming quickly against his lips.

He licked the underside of her jaw, teasing them both while her body healed from the trauma of birth, before answering, the word twenty hot and quiet against her skin.

She giggled, his beard scratching softly against her chest as he sucked a trail into her skin- paper can be twenty then- his arms tightening around her at her words.

The garden gate slammed shut, shaking her from remembering that evening nearly three months before, the memory of the candlelight soft and bright in their bedroom which had been filled once more with tapers as it had been the night of their wedding, just as she’d always wanted it to be. The gate would need mending before the snow came, the weeks of good weather rapidly closing in as the nights turned colder.

He would be in soon, and Emma breathed deeply to settle her rising nerves.

They were fine.

Nothing had changed.

She had been worried, the decision to step aboard the Jolly one last time hanging over her with the possibility of consequences she hadn’t thought to consider.

What if…?

* * *

Read the rest here.

Tagging:

@elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @sailtoafarawayland @teamhook @wefoundloveunderthelight @caught-in-the-filter @batana54 @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgood @veryverynotgoodwrites @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @jrob64 @kmomof4 @artistic-writer @gingerpolyglot @xarandomdreamx @xhookswenchx @justanother-unluckysoul @itsfabianadocarmo @zaharadessert @jadehowlettthewolf @xsjax @karlyfr13s @tiganasummertree @asluve @winterbaby89 @wyntereyez @klynn-stormz @onceratheart18 @rkrbirdgirl @ouatdaily @blowmiakisscolin @courtorderedcake @winterbaby89 @pirateprincessofpizza @superchocovian @deckerstarblanche @jlsadphoenix @alexa-fangirl-forever @stahlop @ohmakemeahercules @undercaffinatednightmare @lostintheskyfaraway

[sailtoafarawayland]

What the Sea Brings Us

(A Captain Swan Drabble)

Yes, there is a background mythos for this little tale, but I make no promises about sharing it anytime soon, hence the drabble. I hope you all enjoy. Be sure to check out my other drabbles and ficlets found in my series Emma and Killian (whoever we may be)

AO3 - FF 

Rating: T for implied violence

What the Sea Brings Us

The ship groaned and bellowed like a fallen beast, her bones creaking and bending as she fell through the portal into dark waters, the unnatural storm that had accompanied their arrival dissipating as quickly as it had been birthed.

Fog split around the prow as the tide carried the Jolly Roger closer to shore, the soft wind picking at her sails mournfully. The crew scurried beneath the shrewd eye of their captain as they prepared to moor, their calls echoing hauntingly before the mountainous, green slopes of an island that slowly emerged from the mists.

The skies above were grey and silent of bird calls as the captain tread the deck, spyglass trained on the valleys of dark jungle and the white stretch of sandy shore awaiting them.

It wasn't until the terrified call from one of the crew sounded that the spyglass shifted, focusing instead on the black waters half cloaked in fog around the ship itself.

“Man overboard!” echoed the cry among the crew, and bare feet clambered to the stern of the ship as ropes were tossed into the sea, one of them landing heavily across the back of the man floating listlessly atop a scrap of wood.

Every soul aboard the Jolly Roger was silent as they waited, and hope seemed all but lost until the weight of the rope finally stirred the still figure. With shaking hands, the man clung to the frayed end, barely able to hold on as the crew heaved him through the sea and aboard the ship.

The Captain's boots thudded softly against the damp planks, stopping just shy of the quivering pile that was what remained of a human being – all but the most stubborn flicker of life drained from its exhausted shell. The crew held its breath as the man gasped and heaved, seemingly shocked to find a sturdy surface beneath his body. He shook and swept water-blackened locks of hair from his pale face as he looked up, meeting the eyes of his savior.

“On your feet for the Captain,” growled one of the crew, nudging the drowned man none to gently, but he'd seen the look in the stranger's eyes on many a man's face before, and perhaps there was some deep-seated envy within him that prompted his roughness.

But a swift motion of the Captain's hand stayed any further cruelty, and she knelt slowly, the heavy leather of her greatcoat sweeping the deck as she brought herself level with the man still fighting to catch his breath aboard her ship – emerald green eyes meeting the cold bite of blue.

“I can't thank you enough for your kindness,” the man rasped, his voice raw and gravely from the salt of the sea. “I owe you my life...”

“Well, it's always nice to make an impression,” the Captain smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes, “but where are my manners? We haven't been introduced – Captain Swan. Now, tell me, who are you, and what are you doing half-drowned in the Neverland Sea?”

The man smiled weakly, seeming almost ashamed as he answered.

“I'm nothing more than a simple naval lieutenant. We strayed into these waters and our ship was set upon by mermaids. They slaughtered everyone. I don't even know how I managed to survive. I can only assume they already thought me dead...”

“I'm going to let you in on a little secret – I'm pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me,” the Captain mused, her blonde curls falling over her shoulder as she leaned forward, closing the space between them.

It was then that the man's eyes left hers, tracking the glint of cold steel that extended from her wrist where a hand should have been, its curved edge frigid and lethal as she tucked it beneath his chin, angling his face toward hers.  

“Now, are you going to tell me the truth, or do I need to gut you and toss what's left back in to sate the appetites of whatever else lies in these waters?”

The man's eyes shifted back to hers, but where the Captain expected to see fear, there was nothing but barely restrained mirth, his lips splitting into a wide, almost menacing grin.

“Good for you, you bested me,” he crowed, his entire demeanor changing as he shifted into a more comfortable, almost mischievous position, opposite the captain, every shred of the grateful, stammering victim falling away as he tilted his head and sat on his haunches, studying her.  

“Who are you?” she growled, keeping her hook neatly in place beneath his sharp, stubbled jawline – though from the way he turned his head in amusement, following her gaze, it seemed to be of little bother to him.  

“Killian Jones, but most people who come here have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker – ” He grinned wickedly, blue eyes sparkling with something feral as he licked his lips and eyed her hungrily “ – Pan.”

END

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmomof4  @the-darkdragonfly  @teamhook  @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx   @jrob64  @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree  @pirateprincessofpizza  @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever  @alifeofdreams  @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook  @hollyethecurious  @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells  @itsfabianadocarmo  @stahlop ��@karlyfr13s @elizabeethan  @rkrbirdgirl  @batana54  

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Mystery Of Pixie Hollow by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 1/11

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche @jonesfandomfanatic

Chapter 1: Neverland

Emma stood at the register, a pile of coins and dollar bills sitting in front of her as she began counting her tips. She had been working nonstop for the last three weeks to save every dime she earned in order to take Henry on a special treat for his birthday. He had seen the flyer in the window of the diner after school one day, immediately calling the carnival to her attention. A traveling amusement park themed to the story of Peter Pan was visiting their town. Henry hadn’t stopped asking questions about it since.

Do fairies really exist?

Can Peter Pan actually fly?

If I really believe do you think I can fly when I’m there too?

With his birthday approaching, Emma knew the best birthday gift she could give him was a trip to the park when it came to town. It was only visiting for three days, and Henry had been completely gutted when they fell on Emma’s weekend at the diner. He had been putting on his best face when she got home from work, her feet tired from standing all day, reciting to her his day, and trying to pretend that he wasn’t disappointed after sitting all day listening to the sounds of the park lofting through his window.

She could barely contain her secret last night when she tucked him into bed, and he told her that he got to spend the day watching Peter Pan skip through the park and it was just as good as being there.

Henry was such a sweet boy, he never asked for things he knew he couldn’t have. He knew that money was tight for them. Emma had been on her own ever since she gave birth to the boy, his father was long out of the picture before he was even born. It wasn’t that the boy was ever without something important, Emma made sure that she saved her money to spend it on things he needed, and when she couldn’t afford it, her best friend, Will Scarlet always pitched in to help her out.

Which was what had happened with Henry’s birthday gift this year. Emma had saved almost enough for the admission price but knew that Henry would want tickets to ride the rides and play a few games, and of course Will tossed some money into the pot, so that the three of them could enjoy the last day of the park together.

“Did you save enough?” She turned to see her boss Mrs. Lucas approach her from the kitchen.

“I made $25 bucks today, I should be able to get him some dinner while we are there.” She said with a smile.

“Get him something from me too while you’re there.” She responded as she held out her hand, a white envelope in her palm. “It’s his birthday after all.”

Emma tentatively took the envelope, lifting the top to see a crisp $20 bill tucked inside. “Gran, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but it’s his birthday, just be sure to tell him it’s from Gran.” She reached out and hugged the woman, a smile growing on her face. The bell above the door made a sound and they both turned to see the customer walk into the diner. “Get out of here, you’re off the clock.”

Emma looked at her watch. “I still have ten minutes left in my shift.”

The woman shook her head and pulled out her notepad to assist the man who sat down at the counter. “Clock must be slow.” She said with a grin. “Get out of here. Take that boy of yours on an adventure.”

“Thank you, see you tomorrow.” She hollered back as she ran out the door to her yellow bug parked outside the diner. She couldn’t wait to get home and tell Henry they were going to Pixie Hollow.

When she opened the door to her apartment, Henry was running circles around the couch as Will chased him through the living room. “You can’t get away from me, mate.”

“You’re too old to catch me.” Henry hollered and Will stopped in his tracks and grabbed his chest.

“Oi, that was quite rude.” He said in a feigned outrage. “I’m not that old.”

Emma laughed and they both turned toward her. “Mom!” Henry ran and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“The lad is being hurtful on his birthday.” Will scoffed.

“Tell your Uncle Will that you’re sorry for calling him old.” She leaned over and whispered. “But say it loudly because his hearing isn’t what it used to be.” Henry fell to the ground in a fit of giggles.

“You know he gets his mean spirted nature from you, right?” Will complained.

“We love you.” She teased as she ran her hand through his short locks and pinched his cheek. She turned and faced Henry.

“Why are you home? I thought you had to work tonight.”

“I wanted to surprise you!” She grinned. “Thought maybe we could go see this Peter Pan you keep talking about.”

Henry’s face brightened. “Seriously? Oh my God.” He squealed “You mean it?”

“Happy birthday, baby.” She smiled. The boy launched himself into her arms. “Ok we gotta get ready to go, get your jacket in case it gets cold after the sun goes down.”

Henry disappeared in a fury to his room to collect his jacket, just as Will’s phone rang.

“Don’t answer it.” Emma protested as he held up the phone and Will groaned.

“It’s work, I can’t ignore it.” Emma groaned as he greeted his boss, a chorus of “Yes, sir” “I know, sir” “Of course, sir.” Carried through the room.

“Yes but I was planning to…” He frowned. “I understand, of course, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He said sadly. Henry came bounding into the room as he disconnected the call.

“You’re going in to work now?” Emma complained.

“I’m sorry Em, it can’t be helped. They had some sort of emergency, and they need me there right away.”

“So, we aren’t going?” Henry said sadly, looking up between them. Will hesitated, staring between the two. Emma knew he wouldn’t disappoint Henry if it couldn’t be helped.

“I’m sorry lad, I don’t have a choice.”

“We’re still going Henry.” Emma announced.

“Emmie, you can’t go alone.” Will began to protest.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Stop it, I’m an adult. I don’t need you to babysit me everywhere we go.”

“I’m not there to babysit you, I just don’t like it when you and Henry are out late at night without someone else with you.”

“Without a man with me, you mean. I don’t know if you realize this yet, but I don’t need a man, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Are you sure you two will be alright?”

Emma chuckled. “I think I can handle a carnival for children on my own.”

“Alright, but text me when you get there, and again when you get home.”

“Ok dad.” She teased and he slapped her playfully on the arm.

“Happy birthday, Bub.” He picked the boy off the ground and squeezed him. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“That’s impossible.” The boy replied.

“Did I tell you that you’re my favorite six-year-old out of all the six-year-old kids out there?”

“But I just turned six. You don’t even know all the six-year-old kids.” Henry wined with a playful smile.

“I don’t have to because you’re still my favorite.”

“You said that when I was five.”

“And I’ll say it when you’re seven or fifteen.” Will said as he sat the boy back on the ground.

“I love you, Uncle Will.”

“Love you too Bub.” He raised his hand, and they exchanged their ridiculous handshake that they had made up when Henry had turned four.

Two taps, spin around, tap down low, shake your booty, tap up high.

It was ridiculous and heartwarming and a reminder of how lucky she was to have such an amazing best friend. Even when she showed up on his doorstep, a positive pregnancy test in her hand, tears streaming down her face, Will simply pulled her into his arms and promised he would always be there for her. Over the years he had been her shoulder to cry on, her Lamaze coach, her sounding board, and her support system. Even with the one drunken misstep that neither of them ever spoke of again, there wasn’t anyone that Emma relied on more than Will.

“Ok I’m off, have fun tonight.” He smiled and left through the front door. As soon as the door closed Henry jumped up and down in front of her.

“Can we go now?” Emma chuckled and pushed him toward the door.

“Of course, let’s go.”

“You have to say it mom.”

“Say what?” She asked, confused on what he was meaning.

“Second star to the right.” He began excitedly.

“And straight on til morning.” She continued as they closed the door to the apartment and made their way to the park across the street. The lights shone bright into the sky with all the rides and attractions that had their own music playing all around them as soon as they entered the park.

Henry could barely contain his excitement as he bounced about from ride to ride. More than once Emma had to remind him to stay close by, not to get too far ahead of her, but the boy was hard to be contained.

“Mom, look, it’s a house of mirrors, can we go, can we go?” He jumped up and down in front of her.

“Ok, but don’t get too far ahead of me.” Emma laughed as he handed his ticket to the man at the front of the attraction. She didn’t like the way the man glared in her direction, there was something about him that made her uncomfortable in a way that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. Henry ran ahead into the building and Emma yelled for him to wait as the man seemed to take an extra-long time to allow her to enter behind her son.

When he finally raised the gate, she ran toward the fun house, entering the building and exhaling when she saw Henry standing at the corner waiting for her. “Come on mom, this is so cool.”

“It’s very cool.” Emma replied, looking around the disorienting room. The mirrors at all angles making it appear that Henry was in more than one place in front of her.

“You could get lost in here for days.” He joked as he stepped into the room, his arms outstretched in front of him to avoid running into anything.

“Let’s try and avoid getting lost, I’m starting to get hungry.” She joked.

“Come on mom, I bet you can’t find which one is really me.” Henry yelled, rushing forward, and turning a corner until she couldn’t see him anymore.

“Don’t get too far ahead of me.” She warned, turning the corner he was just at and seeing three versions of him in front of her. “Ok which one is my Henry?” She questioned as she stepped forward, her hand coming into contact with a mirror. She then touched the one next to her but that was a mirror as well.

“I’m right here.” Her son mimicked, before running around the corner again.

“You’re too good at this.” She chuckled, turning, and chasing after him until she ran into one of the glass mirrors. She really hated this attraction. “Ok Henry, I’m really getting hungry. Which way did you go?”

“I’m over here.” She heard him toward her left and she turned to stumble in that direction as she caught a glimpse of him just as she turned the corner.

“Henry, can you just stay in one place until I get to you.” Her tone was starting to sound agitated as she felt her way through the glass around her, dipping in and out of the crevices until she reached a dead end.

“Henry, where are you?” She yelled.

“Mom.” She heard him shout and then it got quiet.

“Henry?” She hollered toward the last place she heard his voice. She felt her way through the attraction until she heard music and felt the breeze of the outside, stepping through the small doorway, she found herself on the other side from where they entered. She looked around for Henry, but only saw other children, families standing around the exit area.

“Did you see a little boy come out of here?”

“I’ve seen a lot of little boys.” The guy grumbled and wandered away from her.

“Henry, where are you?” She yelled, trying to control her voice as the terror started to race in her heart. “Henry?” She ran toward the entrance and the man who took her ticket. “Where is my son, did he come back out this way?”

The man frowned, “No one comes back out the front ma’am. Did you check the exit?”

“Of course, I checked the exit, you idiot, how else did I get out here!” She yelled and he turned to take a ticket from another family.

“I need you to find my son.” She grabbed at the lapel of his jacket and turned him back toward her.

“Hands off lady.” The man warned. “I’ll get my manager.”

“Good, get your manager. I need to find my son.”

The family tried to push past her, and Emma stood in front of them, blocking the exit. “My son got lost in there.”

“It’s not my problem that you can’t keep an eye on your boy, get out of my daughter’s way.” The man pushed around her, leading his daughter into the entrance of the attraction.

Emma ran after them, and the ticket idiot was on her heels. “You can’t go in there without another ticket.”

Emma shoved his hands off her, “Get off me, I’m going in there until I find my son.” She screamed, wandering back into the fun house, her heart racing as she turned in every direction screaming her son’s name. “Henry, where are you?” She yelled, pushing forward through the maze. There was no response except for the grumbling of the people in front of her who she continued to push aside in her quest to find her son.

When she reached the exit again she immediately screamed his name, grabbing at random strangers to ask if they had seen her son, a photo of him pulled up on her phone. Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and she turned quickly to see the ticket asshole with a man. “You can’t go around grabbing our customers.” The man sternly growled at her.

“My son is missing. He went in the hall of mirrors, and he didn’t come out.”

“That’s impossible. There is only one way in and one way out. He must have come out; you’ve just lost him.”

“I didn’t lose him.” She cried. “Don’t you have something you can do. Call the cops, make an announcement, just find my son.”

“Of course, I’m Felix. I’m the assistant manager. Let me make a few calls.” He said with a grin that certainly didn’t set her at ease. There was something off about the man, something menacing and scary, and Emma just wanted to get her son and get the hell away from all of them. “Come with me.” He didn’t ask but tugged at her elbow. “Nothing to see here, she just lost her child.” He announced to the people who had suddenly taken an interest in the commotion.

Emma was too concerned about her child to admonish the bystanders for gawking at her, their looks of contention and disappointment apparent on their faces as if they just watched an irresponsible parent simply leave their child by the side of the road instead of the fact that her son vanished without a trace.

“Ok ma’am can you explain to me what you think happened to your son?” The man closed the door to the trailer and gestured for her to take a seat in the dingy office.

“What I know” she paused, “was that my son and I went into the Hall of Mirrors and when I got to the exit, he wasn’t there.”

“Do you normally let your son run off without you?”

“Excuse me?” She stood up from her seat. “He did not run off without me, he was playing in the goddamn funhouse with me in the room.”

“Yes ma’am so you said, however if he was simply playing with you, then you would know where he was, isn’t that correct?”

Emma was done with this man’s treatment of her, she was done with people not ripping that god forsaken fun house to the ground until they came upon her little boy. She pushed her way past the man and shoved the door open, ignoring his plea for her to stay put. As soon as she stepped out of the trailer, two men approached her.

“Are you the woman who lost her son?”

Emma recognized their badges and the names on them from the Sherriff’s station. “Thank God you are here, these idiots won’t do anything to find my son.”

“I’m officer Nolan, and this is officer Locksley, can you tell me what happened?”

Emma took a deep breath, “My son, Henry, he just turned 6, it’s his birthday today.” Tears started to fall down her cheeks. “We went into the Hall of Mirrors, he was playing hide and seek and trying to get me to find him, but then he called out for me, and I couldn’t find him anymore. When I got to the exit, he wasn’t there, and no one can tell me where he is.”

“So, he wasn’t with you in the Hall of Mirrors?”

“Did you just hear me? I told you we went in together. He was only a few feet in front of me, it’s not like I let my fucking kid just run around alone.”

The man held up his hand. “Alright ma’am, there is no need to get upset.”

“No need to get upset.” She stated, shocked at the audacity this man had standing in front of her like everything was normal that was happening to her. “I lost my son. My baby is out there somewhere, and no one will fucking help me.”

Officer Nolan stepped forward and took her by the elbow. “Ma’am, if you keep cursing in front of the children here, we are going to have to take you down to the station to discuss this matter.”

“Matter!” She yelled. “My son is missing; I don’t give a fuck what you think about my goddamn cursing. Find my son!”

“Is it possible that he simply ran away?” The other man asked.

“Ran away? Why would you even think he would run away?”

“Is his father here with you?”

“Why does that matter?”

“I’m simply asking if the boy could be with his father.”

Emma shook her head. “No, his father isn’t around. He’s most definitely not with that asshole.”

“So, the situation with the father, it’s contentious then?”

Emma couldn’t believe the crap she was hearing. “This has nothing to do with his father. He’s lost, he’s probably scared and all you can do is sit here and ask me stupid questions that aren’t doing anything to find him.”

The men looked at each other and nodded, Officer Locksley stepped into the trailer and shut the door behind him. “My partner is just going to talk to the manager and find out if they know anything else.”

“He’s the assistant manager and he knows jack shit.” She said as she rolled her eyes.

The door to the trailer opened and he gestured for his partner to join him. They whispered at the door for a moment and then returned in front of her, closing their notebooks. “Ma’am, I’m going to give you my business card, we can’t do anything about a runaway until after 24 hours. If he still hasn’t come home by then, give us a call.”

“I already fucking told you he’s not a goddamn runaway.”

“Ok ma’am, we’re going to have to take you down to the station if you can’t control yourself.” She felt their hands on her arms and she pulled away from them, holding her hands in the air.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Well, you can’t stay here.” He announced, looking back at the ridiculous assistant manager who was glaring at her.

“So, I’m supposed to just leave my kid?”

“Most times, they show up in the morning, a little scared, hungry, and apologetic for causing a scare. Go home and get some sleep, they usually show back up at home.”

Emma couldn’t believe this was happening, that she was just supposed to go home and leave Henry out here, lost. She looked toward the fun house, wanting to make a run back to it, wanting to search frantically for anything she could find, but she knew he wasn’t there. Something had happened to Henry.

“Ma’am. We need you to leave or come with us.” They stepped toward her, and Emma backed up from her spot. She surveyed the crowd and then paused.

“I’m going.” She announced, turning on her heels and storming toward the exit. When she got to her house she climbed the stairs, screaming her son’s name, hoping he would answer and explain that he got lost and simply went home, but the house was still, dark, and ominously quiet. She went into Henry’s room and pulled open the curtains, the lights from the fair spilling into the window. She pulled the chair over to the wall and sat down, staring at the scene in front of her. She would wait there until she found him, until he made his way back to the house.

Looking down at her phone, she sent another text to Will asking him to call her immediately. Pulling a blanket around her she sat and waited.

Henry, where are you?

~*~

Henry woke with a start, a painful beating in his head. He reached up and winced at the swollen knot on the back of his skull. He looked around in the dark, trying to figure out where he was. Just moments ago he was in the Hall of Mirrors with his mom, they were playing a game. He remembered seeing her, just a few feet away and then his back hit something solid and then it moved. Arms reached out and grabbed him and then everything went black.

He felt around on the ground below him, dirt digging into his fingernails. There was a small light coming in from a tiny opening up high in the room. He groaned as he tried to sit up.

“Don’t sit up too quickly, I’m sure you’re dizzy.”

He jumped at the sound of a female in the room. “Who’s there?”

A face came into view, the light streaming into the dark onto her golden hair. “It’s ok, just give it a minute. You can see in the dark after you get used to it.”

“My head hurts.” He groaned.

“It will only hurt for a couple of days. Then it will go away.” The girl moved closer to him, sitting down next to him.

“What do you want with me?”

“I’m a friend, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Where are we?”

“Underground. I don’t know really. We move around a lot.”

“Who’s we?”

“Pan’s crew.” The girl said softly, and Henry almost started laughing.

“As in Peter Pan? I must be dreaming. That’s what’s going on. This is a nightmare.”

“I wish it were, but sadly this is real. What’s your name?”

Henry peered at the girl in front of him. “I’m Henry.” Suddenly the shadows moved behind her and he pushed back against the wall.

“Don’t be afraid, they won’t hurt you.”

Henry stared at the faces of the children staring back at him. “Who are you people?”

“We’re the lost ones. Just like you.” She said sadly.

[caught-in-the-filter]

Strapped with a Bow

On the tenth day of Kinkmas, the prompt list gave to me: hair pulling or bondage

Summary: A bit of roleplay. Emma crossed Captain Hook and faces her punishment.

A/N: Shoutout and thank you to @motherkatereloyshipper for betaing all of the prompt fics for me, and to everyone who read sneak previews of these along the way. ❤️ I’ll be posting daily for the rest of the prompts.

Inspired by the prompt list shared by @ahufflepuffhobbit

I completely forgot to post this here yesterday oops

Rated: E; Words: 435; AO3; my Kinkmas AO3 series

——

Whack.

Emma yelped as the leather strap cracked against her bare ass yet again, already bright red and sore from his treatment. Killian had her pinned against the wall, pressing his arm across the back of her shoulders, the textured wall scraping against her breasts with pinpricks of pain that only seemed to heighten her pleasure. Her wrists were tied tightly together and carefully secured above her head.

“Let me hear you,” he growled as he twisted his hook in her hair and yanked before striking her once more. “It’s what you deserve, little wench.” Whack. Whack. “Did you really think you could cross me without consequences?”

“Fuck,” Emma whimpered, earning herself another crack. “No,” she answered, gritting her teeth and bracing herself for more, “I was counting on them, Captain.”

“Good.” Three more solid strikes, a fourth landing on her back, knocking the wind out of her and making her knees buckle beneath her as her restraints kept her standing. “You can take it, darling, come on,” he cooed almost mockingly, tugging his hook free of her hair and wrapping his arm around her middle, supporting beneath her stomach as he bent her forward and continued his efforts with the leather strap until she screamed.

It was too much. Gods, it was too much. The pleasurable pain of his calculated whips, the strain on her arms as they stayed stretched above her while he arched her body lower still, the feral tone of his voice as he encouraged her in the worst ways. Tears welled in her eyes even as she practically grew numb to the sting, but she wouldn’t dare beg him to stop. She didn’t want him to stop.

“There’s a good girl, yes!” Killian sneered delightedly as she cried out again and again with every hit. “That’s what I wanted to hear, love.”

Emma’s legs trembled unsteadily as he finally, finally relented. Dropping the whip, Killian straightened her against the wall once more, easing the tension in her arms, gently pressing his chest to her back as his hand soothed her purpling flesh, rubbing and massaging her ass as he showered her neck and shoulder with kisses.

“Are you alright, Emma?” Killian asked softly and sincerely against the shell of her ear. Emma nodded despite the tear stubbornly rolling down her cheek.

“Yes, Captain.” Her lip quivered as she answered, but she was honest. She wanted more.

“Good girl.” The fire returned to his voice as he slid his hand lower between her legs, stealing her breath as he dipped two fingers inside her without warning. “Because we’re far from finished.”

——

Tag list ❤️: @anothersworld @batana54 @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @karlyfr13s @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @laschatzi @motherkatereloyshipper @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @sotangledupinit @stahlop @teamhook @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @whimsicallyenchantedrose @xhookswenchx @xsajx @zaharadessert

[elizabeethan]

Ripple

An Overboard addition

Emma gets Killian an anniversary gift, kind of

This is purely gratuitous fluff for @the-darkdragonfly because she deserves it

Rated T

~1500 words

Read on Ao3

Read the Rest

Read my Other Stuff

~~~~

There are few things that can make Killian Jones feel as alive as the sea does. The whipping wind that tousles his hair, the crashing waves that spray him with ocean mist and rock his boat from side to side, forcing him to counterbalance himself so as to not topple over. Very few things in this world make Killian feel as free as the sea does.

Among the few things that bring him to life are his boat. It’s something he spent years working towards, his title of captain a badge that he wears proudly each day. It’s a reminder that tragedy and hardship could not defeat him.

And then there’s the thrill that comes with catching monstrous Bluefin Tuna. It's a battle he’s won countless times, but he’s lost countless times as well, and each time he pulls one onto his deck, the pride that swells in his chest is almost painful.

Although there is a short list of things that bring him to life, nothing can compare to the way he feels when he’s with-- when he even thinks about-- his wife.

“There’s a special surprise waiting for you when you get home,” she tells him in a low, sultry voice when she calls him that day. It’s a strong reminder that it’s their first wedding anniversary, and the tone of her delivery sends impure thoughts through his mind and makes his cock do impure things while he’s at work.

“What is it?” he asks uselessly, knowing she won’t cooperate.

With the very giggle he expected, she answers, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Will I like the surprise?” he asks, voice matching hers.

“I think so.”

His wife is fire. She’s heat and passion and infallibility all rolled into one flawless, beautiful package. He maintains easily that he’s the luckiest man alive, the luckiest man to ever live again, because he has been given the privilege of marrying Emma Swan. There is nothing that will ever make him feel the way it feels to be with her-- not his boat, not catching a monster tuna, not the sea.

He’s almost tempted to call it a day, turn towards the docks and leave his mates high and dry and without much of a paycheck, but he knows he can’t do that. All he can do is think back to nearly a week ago, just before he’d left for this trip, when she reminded him very cleverly and very salaciously that their special day was up-and-coming by making him come in her mouth and smirking in satisfaction when she succeeded.

All he can do is consider what color his special surprise could be, how it will look contrasting against her creamy skin, how it will feel in his fingers when he peels it off of her.

~~~~

She’s not at the docks like she usually likes to be when he arrives home. She uses it as an excuse to visit with her father, and she also likes to tell Killian that her presence when his catch is weighed and appraised for quality is good luck. But today, she isn’t here.

He takes his check and helps his mates clean the boat, but they can tell that his mind is elsewhere. Will practically chastises him, claiming that he’s too horny for his own good and insisting that he go home to his fit bird of a wife, earning himself a slap upside his head.

The house is mysteriously quiet when he gets home, creeping through the front door and excitedly looking around every corner as he walks through. It becomes obvious that she isn’t inside when he gets to the kitchen in the back of the small cottage they share, and when he looks out the swinging porch door, he sees her.

She’s fully clothed, but she still looks beautifully irresistible, so he steps outside with a growing smirk. He isn’t sure what she could be doing in the backyard at nearly dusk, and he becomes even more confused when he watches her squat down on her knees and hold her arms out, excitedly cooing and cheering at something around the corner that he can’t see yet.

“Come on, baby!” she calls happily, grin bright and beaming in the setting sun. “Come on!”

“Emma?” he asks through his confusion, making her look up and greet him with stunning beauty. “What are you…?”

It becomes clear so quickly, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place suddenly when he hears the jingle. A small, clumsy creature flops its way across the yard that they share, nearly tripping over its too-large feet. She calls for it once more, shrieking and laughing when it bounds into her arms, knocking her onto her back.

A smile grows across Killian’s face almost instantly. He couldn’t even hope to fight it, Emma’s joy far too evident and far too impossible not to match.

“Happy anniversary,” she greets.

“Aye, happy anniversary, my love… What is this?” he asks, squatting beside her and delivering her a smile that she matches effortlessly.

“This is your surprise,” she explains.

“You got us… a dog?”

“A puppy! Isn’t she precious?” she asks, rubbing the pup’s belly and giggling as she rolls onto her back. “Her name is Ripple.”

He scrunches up his eyebrows in confusion, moving to sit all the way in order to save his old knees. “Ripple?”

“Don’t give me that look,” she chastises. “I think it suits her. One little doggy can impact our lives in many ways; like the ripple effect.”

“Aye,” he agrees, because he’ll agree with everything she says if only to see the look on her face when he does. “And how did Ripple find her way into our yard?”

The small, and admittedly adorable, puppy gives him a look that tugs at his heartstrings. Truthfully, if there was one breed of dog he could see Emma adopting, it would be a Rottweiler. Their Ripple is only a baby, small and soft, but he can tell that she’ll grow to be as fierce as Emma one day. Her big brown eyes stare into his and he knows with certainty that he’s made a companion.

“I adopted her, as a special surprise for you,” she tells him with a smirk, likely knowing that her explanation doesn’t exactly work in her favor. It’s not as if he ever had a desire to adopt a dog. Emma, on the other hand, has been wanting one for months. “She was wandering the streets, so I picked her up. I looked and looked for her owner, but she didn’t have a collar or a microchip, and no one came forward. I filled out some paperwork with the vet, and now she’s ours!”

He can’t help but to fall beside her, lying at her side and planting a brief yet deep kiss to her temple. Ripple wriggles between them, her bark small and high pitched but likely to become much more threatening in the next few weeks. “You’ve a very pure soul, Swan.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, making him bark out a laugh that’s met with one of Ripple’s. “She needs a home,” she says more seriously, rolling on her side to face him in the soft grass, her hand wandering from the neck of his t-shirt down to his waist.

“She does,” he agrees. He leans forward, awkwardly at this angle, to finally catch her lips with his. He can’t deny her of this. She grew up needing a home, and the least he can do now is support her in giving a home to another lost soul in need.

“So, can we keep her?”

“That’s funny,” he laughs, and she screws up her brows and cocks her head to the side. “It’s as if you’re under the impression that I could ever say no to you.”

He watches the smile grow across her face, reaching her eyes so easily as they catch the glimmering light of the fading sun. “Really?”

“Aye, of course, my love. Although, I will admit, this isn’t exactly the surprise I had in mind based on your phone call.”

Her giggle is contagious, and he thinks it must be in response both to what he had said, and the fact that Ripple has decided to clumsily sprint across the yard to chase her long tail. She pushes against his chest to stand-- he feels almost envious at her youthful ability to lift herself from the ground so easily-- and takes his hand in hers, hoisting him up as well. “I’ve been working on crate training her,” she explains once they’re standing side by side. She calls for the pup and she comes running, earning praise from her new, and apparently talented-at-behavioral-training, mother.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” She guides them both inside, pulling his hand and holding her other one out to Ripple, offering a treat once they walk through the door. “And I plan on doing some crate training now, while I show you what other surprises I have for you under this dress. It’s good for her to practice.”

Their new companion is very well behaved, they’ve discovered. She listens to commands, snuggles with her parents at every opportunity afforded to her, and acts as a very talented deckhand on Killian’s ship, announcing the presence of a tuna on their line each time they hook up.

If one thing is for certain, it’s that Killian Jones’ wife knows exactly how to make him happy.

~~~~

~~~~

There’s a dog in Wicked Tuna named Ripple, and I’m addicted to The Ripple Effect, so Emma and Killian got a dog named Ripple. Hehehe

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[captain-emmajones]

let the cat out of the bag

Set during the missing year and expands until somewhere during season 3 B.

Pirates don’t have pets. Hell, Captain Hook -- terror of the High Seas -- does not have pets. So what happens when a devilish black kitten jumps aboard the Jolly Roger once Hook has taken it back from Blackbeard?

I asked @carpedzem what she would like to read, and this is what she came up with. Hopefully it will make you, and others, happy! (Oh, and all mistakes are mine!)

Fluff - 2000 words - Ao3

Tagging some friends who might enjoy this: @itsfabianadocarmo @killiansprincss @thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @snowbellewells​ @elizabeethan​

Happy Sunday and happy reading!! 

At first, he believes they’re rats. He isn’t pleased about it.

“Mr Smee, I seem to recall I asked you to make sure there weren't any living creatures aboard this ship.”

He isn’t quite sure why, but Smee flushes a bright pink and starts stammering.

“...And I did, Captain, I did b-but --”

Killian Jones is a man of many things, but one of patience he isn’t.

“-- but what, Mr Smee? I don’t think it is that arduous to take care of such matters.” His words come out like sharp, drawn blades and threaten to slash his first mate’s round cheeks. “But if it is, I’ll make sure to ease you of this task.”

And he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth for good measure.

“I -- I will do everything I can, Captain.”

A smirk. “Let’s just hope that is enough, Mr Smee.”

.

But the thing is, it doesn’t bloody stop. The vermin keeps pestering him.  

Hook wakes up to open doors, cannot stroll down the deck of the Jolly Roger without seeing a shadow run along with him, until, until --

“Now, what are you doing here?”

The troublemaker stands on top of his bed, on all fours, green eyes sparkling in the orange light of this late afternoon and seems quite ready to roar at his very face.

A petulant meow answers him.

.

“MISTER SMEE.”

He is furious, of course. Smee, however, thinks -- maybe, all things considered -- the plank isn’t so bad.

“I can explain every-everything, Captain…”

“I want none of your explanations, Mr Smee. I want you to get rid of this .”

A very indignant meow echoes on the ship.

“It must have gotten on the ship when we took it back from Blackbeard, Captain, and I hadn’t noticed for a while but then I could hardly throw him in the waters…”

A deep, guttural groan.

“As soon as we reach port, this thing is out of my ship. Have I made myself clear, Mr Smee?”

“A-abundantly clear, Captain.”

.

When he goes back to his cabin that night, stomach full and mind lulled by rhum, he doesn’t exactly expect to see the small nuisance lying comfortably on his bed, very much at ease indeed.

The thing is staring at him with its big, green eyes, and Hook frowns.

“Those are my quarters. Get out.”

Another impish meow answers him. If it could, Hook is convinced it would raise an eyebrow at him.

Another sigh of discontent. “I said get out of my bed. Now.” And as he stretches his hand to push the kitten out-of-the-way, it simply raises his head and meets its palm in approval.

Hook’s eyes widen. “Do you think I’m that easily charmed?” And as if to assert that yes, most absolutely, he is that easily charmed, the small cat purrs against his hand and licks his skin.

And Hook suddenly wonders why the hell he is letting this happen.

Clearing his throat, his hand closes over the small, black body and drops it onto the floor.

“There, and do not come to bother me anymore.”

A meow echoes in the night.

.

He wakes up to something fluffy tingling against his cheek and that alone rings an alarm in his head and causes his eyes to shoot open.

“What the hell…” but the end of his sentence dies as the small vermin stares at him, and seems to s m i l e  at him.

Hook groans. “Get out of here,” he mumbles, and pushes the kitten to the side.

And he does not want to ponder over how gently he actually urged the cat to disappear nor does he want to think about the little, warm bubble swelling comfortably inside his chest (next to the big bubble of annoyance, of course).

.

The cat has been on the ship with them for two weeks when they finally reach port and can get rid of him. In the meantime, he has settled his quarters in Hook’s room.

“I see the kitten is quite fond of you, Captain?”

“Do you want to find out if the bloody plank is fond of you, Mr Smee?”

“N-no, of course, Captain, no.”

To prevent him from sleeping in his bed, Hook settled an old bed cover in the farthest corner of his room -- since the bloody thing won’t be kept out of it anyway.

“There, and don’t you move, you devil.”

He starts to call it that , in his head, the kitten: devil. It suits him well. And it makes it sound more pirate-worthy than kitten anyway.

He doesn’t utter the words aloud. Would rather walk the bloody plank himself. Pirates don’t have pets.

“Since I can’t trust you to take care of vermines on this ship, I’ll get rid of the bloody thing myself.”

And as his crew pillages and plunders a nearby village, Hook ventures out of his ship, the little devil gesticulating down in his satchel.

He isn’t even jealous of the lost opportunity. He hasn’t felt like pillaging and plundering in a while, now. Not since he left Storybrooke, not since the red-headed mermaid visited him and he --

Hook sighs and sits down, near the port, on a bench. His legs feel heavy as stone. He takes out of his satchel his flask of rum, and the little devil, and puts both of them down next to him.

“Don’t move,” he hisses but the small thing instead decides to stretch at his leisure in front of his nose.

“You’re one for mutiny, aren’t you?”

A cheerful meow answers him. And Hook’s lips curve up, just the slightest bit, before he catches himself and frowns furiously.

“I’m going to leave you here, you understand that?”

But the bloody thing apparently cares little for his words, and proceeds instead to climb up his lap and settles himself comfortably against Hook’s stomach.

It is his stomach’s turn to do a weird leaping thing then, as he squares his jaws and bites the interior of his mouth.

There’s been so much loss, hasn’t it? Perhaps he is allowed a little company. Perhaps the journey doesn’t have to be this hard, perhaps he does not have to suffer until the ends of time.

“You don’t want to leave me, do you?”

Other, human, green eyes linger behind Killian’s eyelids, savagely tear his heart apart, because she left.

A meow echoes in the night, and Hook’s fingers reluctantly find the warm, black fur and sieve through it.

“You are one bloody hell of a devil, you know that?”

.

Pirates may not have pets, but lonely souls do need company, don’t they?

When Hook strides back to the ship that night, and frees the small thing on the lower deck, Smee, at least, has the decency of keeping his mouth shut.

“Make one comment, Mr Smee, and you walk the bloody plank.”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

.

Sharing his quarters has a lot of cons, if you’d ask Hook.

Such as cleaning his clothes of the devil’s hair, or making sure the small thing has enough to eat and drink, or waking up to it stretched across his bloody face.

But mostly, Hook does think the company is enjoyable. His partner does not speak, purrs at best, and seems to have some supernatural inkling for knowing when his Captain is feeling a bit...aloof, to put it like that.

Hook’s convinced the bloody thing is actually magic, but that he won’t ever tell no living soul.

.

When he gives up the Jolly Roger, Hook finds two green eyes staring at him.

“I cannot take you with me to Emma, you understand? I don’t even know if animals survive portals.”

A meow answers him, and for the first time Hook thinks it is full of grief.

Something stings, in Hook’s chest, as he waves goodbye to his crew and drops the cat into Smee’s arms.

“I’ll take care of him, Captain.”

“I know you will.”

And when Hook turns back, walks away, he ignores as well as he can this strange, new kind of itching rattling his insides.

.

Back in Storybrooke, Hook figures just to what extent Mr Smee is not a man for subtlety.

He basically throws the damn demon into his arms, on the docks, where everyone can bloody see them.

“What the hell are you doing, Mr Smee?”

Hook does not acknowledge the joy that swirls around his legs as the small thing purrs against him.

“Giving you back what is yours. I can’t take it any longer, he is insufferable.”

And Hook is ready to attack right back, as the demon nibbles his fingers with a cheerful fervor, but then the worst happens.

Emma.

Emma is striding towards him, with Henry, and he has a bloody kitten in his arms.

“Didn’t know you were one to have pets…” she attacks right then, Smee long gone, and the small devil very much settled in the crook of his arm.

Hook gulps down, almost frozen. Later, he’ll wonder why he did not put him down. That would have saved him some embarrassment.

“It’s not what you think, Swan.”

“Isn’t it?” she smirks, and then -- because things can always get worse -- she bends down towards the little devil and scratches between his ears.

But then she is smiling that very rare smile and Hook starts to think perhaps the little devil isn’t such a nuisance anymore.

“What’s his name?” she asks, and the things purrs , goddamn purrs under her touch, and Hook feels utterly betrayed.

“It doesn’t have a name,” he echoes right back, mock-indignant.

She raises her eyes towards him, quirks one eyebrow. It has a terrible effect on Hook’s heart rate.

“Come on, don’t lie. All pets have names.”

“No. Not this one. Actually, it’s not a pet.”

“Oh yeah, then what is it?”

The devil purrs.

“It's merely an animal that got lost on my ship during the missing year, is all.”

Emma’s smirking, again. And Hook isn’t blushing.

“Let's call you Sparrow, then.”

Something revolts inside Hook. It isn’t his name.

“Sparrow? And why the bloody hell is that?”

“Because Captain Jack Sparrow” echoes Henry on reaching them, giving up his video game to devote his attention to the small cat.

Bloody hell.

.

As things turn out, Emma never lets him live it down and everyone in Storybrooke knows Captain Hook’s cat, Sparrow, lives with him at Granny’s.

“I have a no-pet-policy, Hook, but for your pretty eyes I’ll make an exception.”

Hook swallows down a list of elaborate insults and plasters a smile on his face. “Why, thank you, Granny.”

One night, however, the bloody thing isn’t to be found in his room and Captain Hook does not worry about cats but he does stare out his window impatiently, trying to get a glimpse of a black furry tail -- not that he’d admit it.

But then something quite unlikely happens. Someone knocks on the door while he’s showering.

A towel around his hips, Hook opens to find Emma Swan in her pajamas, Sparrow comfortable between her arms.

If Hook’s heart skips multiple beats, it does please him to see Emma’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush as she takes in his state of undress.

“I’m-- I’m…” she begins, has a very hard time coming up with words, it seems, and then exhales sharply: “I found your cat in my room. Under my bed. Which is why it took me so long to find him, actually.”

Hook smirks. “That’s a plausible excuse for visiting me at night, Swan, but next time don’t stand on ceremony.”

She turns even redder, if that is possible, and that sight alone is priceless.

“Right,” she begins, smiling, “There you go.” And she gently drops the little devil between his arms, her touch sending electric trails all over his skin.

Hook gulps down as he notices how close they’ve gotten and he is tempted to bend down but that would be too much, wouldn’t it?

Instead he smiles, swallows down, and watches as she gazes back and forth between his eyes and his lips.

“Thank you, Swan,” he finally exhales and he watches as she seems to come to her senses, bites her lips and backs away.

“No problem. ‘Night, Hook.”

“Goodnight, Emma.”

When he closes the door behind him, Sparrow is standing on his bed, green eyes open.

“I’ll admit that was quite a good idea, thank you mate.”

A meow of contentment answers him, as if to say: but you are most welcome.

[searchingwardrobes]

She Dreams in Color: 5/6

Are you ready to meet Emma and Killian's baby? Will it be obvious who the father really is? I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! There's a scene with Liam that I wrote when I first started this fic and shared it on the discord chat. It got a chuckle on there, and I hope you enjoy it too. Let's just say it will become more difficult for our lovers to keep their affair a secret.

 Much thanks to all of those following this fic, to @shireness-says​ for organizing the @cshistfic​ event, and to my beta @aerica13​.

Summary: Emma’s life is drab and colorless, and not just because of the Dust Bowl that has stripped the land bare. Married to a man she does not love and never has, Emma lives for Tuesdays. That’s when the iceman brings cool relief from the unrelenting heat and fire to her unsatisfied longings. Perhaps they won’t go unsatisfied for long …

*Yes, this fic depicts infidelity. I am in no way making light of people who cheat on their spouses - it’s just a story, ya’ll.*

Rating: M

Length: 6 chapters, complete

Updated each Thursday

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four

Also on Ao3

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Chapter Five: No One Else Who Needs to Know

It wasn’t Tuesday, it was Sunday, and Killian had no coal in the back of his truck. There were no deliveries on Sunday, after all. However, he felt an overwhelming, intense desire to see Emma. It wasn’t just that he longed for her every moment of every day. It wasn’t that their relationship had deepened even more since Emma’s heartfelt confession. She loved him; the baby was his. The tenderness they shared was the deepest intimacy Killian had ever known, both physically and emotionally. 

Still, it had nothing to do with any of that. No, this was something more, something that defied explanation. It felt almost supernatural in its intensity. 

Relief surged through him as his truck came closer; he saw no basket of red flowers hanging on the porch. He parked, and a sense of foreboding filled him at the quiet surrounding him. Ominous gray clouds filled the air, and if Killian wasn’t mistaken, they portended snow. 

Killian opened the back screen door tentatively. The inside of the house was even more eerie than the outside. 

 “Emma?” he called hesitantly. 

No answer. Emma wasn’t in the kitchen, and the stove was cold. She clearly hadn’t made breakfast today. He continued to call her name as he went into the parlor. Then a faint voice caught his ear, and he followed it to the stairs. He called her name again, and he could finally hear her answer in a strangled voice. 

“I’m up here!”

It came from her bedroom, and he rushed towards it, flinging open the door. He found Emma still in bed, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her hair was wild, her face was contorted in pain, and sweat drenched her. Killian blanched and felt his knees wobble. 

“I’ll get the midwife.”

Emma shook her head, whimpering. “I can’t afford the midwife.”

If he thought his knees wobbled before, they turned to jelly now. He cursed himself for his weakness in a moment when Emma clearly needed him. 

“I’ll get Anna, then. She’s done this before.”

Emma reached a hand out towards him, her eyes wide with terror. “No, don’t leave me!”

How could he refuse such a request? Despite the fact that he didn’t have a clue how to deliver a baby, he would never leave Emma’s side if she wanted him there. He thought he was supposed to boil water, though what for, he had no clue. There was no time to boil water, however. There wasn’t even time to fully prepare himself. Emma pulled her knees closer, and Killian could see that the baby was coming, whether they were ready or not. 

“I can’t hold back,” Emma wept, “I need to push.”

“Just do what your body is telling you,” he encouraged her, though he knew he wasn’t the best source of childbirth knowledge. But women had been doing this since the dawn of time, right? He figured it should be some sort of instinctual thing. He hoped so, anyway. 

Emma screamed as she took his suggestion and bore down. What he saw coming out of her would have been terrifying if he hadn’t also seen what was clearly a baby’s head with wet, dark hair plastered to its tiny head. 

“The baby’s coming, Emma!” 

She let out a whimpering sob, and he looked into her terrified green eyes. 

“You can do this, Swan, keep pushing.”

She pushed again with another accompanying scream, and the baby’s shoulders were out. Killian cradled the tiny one’s head and felt tears of his own leak from his eyes. He didn’t have to instruct Emma further, and her next few pushes didn’t seem to require as much agony, though she did cry out in obvious pain. Then there he was, a slippery, bloody, squalling baby boy.

“It’s a boy, Emma!” he cried, the tears falling freely now. 

“You have to cut the cord,” Emma told him, her voice thready with exhaustion. “Anna told me that much. You can use the ones in my sewing kit over there.”

In the meantime, Killian snatched a stray blanket from the floor and wrapped the baby up in it. He would clean him up later, but right now he needed his mother. He handed the boy to an exhausted Emma, then went about following her instructions. When he finished, he cleaned up at the wash basin, then knelt at Emma’s side. He was a bit concerned about the look on Emma’s face. She was pale and seemed overwhelmed.

“Swan? Are you okay, love?”

His words caused the damn to break, and without warning Emma was sobbing as she held the baby tight against her breast. The child seemed content and even happy in his mother’s arms and did not protest her embrace. Slightly alarmed, Killian squeezed into the bed next to her and put his arms around her. After a few moments, her tears subsided, and she spoke.

“He has your eyes.”

It wasn’t what he had expected her to say. Was that the reason for her tears? Did she fear her husband’s reaction when he saw the tufts of dark hair and the bright blue eyes? He brushed a kiss to her temple, wishing to ease her pain in what should have been a moment of pure joy. 

“All babies are born with blue eyes,” he told her, “that’s what Anna said when Rolf was born. Her mother was a midwife.”

  Emma turned her face to look at him, and for the first time, her face was clear and her cheeks were rosy. She smiled at him in a wistful way that was tinged with joy. “Well, I still say he looks like you.”

Killian grinned back at her before capturing her lips with a quick kiss. They needed to clean the tiny boy up, but for now Killian and Emma just wanted to look down at their son in awe. In that bubble of happiness, they refused to consider the trouble that could lay ahead.  

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

Neal Gold came home the day after Emma gave birth, which meant that Killian went a week without seeing his son. It brought a cold dose of reality; another man would be raising his son. 

Henry. That was the lad’s name. They cleaned the tiny babe up, then had snuggled in bed, counting his fingers and toes. When Killian had asked her what they should name him, she said that Henry sounded nice. Killian agreed. Henry David. A fine name. Henry David Gold, actually. That was another hard, cold truth. His name wouldn’t be Jones. It couldn’t be. 

The Gold farm hadn’t needed coal every week in this mild winter, so Killian headed there in his delivery truck the second Tuesday after the birth of his son. He cheered inwardly when he saw that there was no basket of flowers hanging on the porch. 

“Got your coal!” he called as he entered the back door with his large iron bucket. He discovered Emma at the kitchen table, sobbing into her hands. He set the bucket down with a thud, caring little about the black circle of soot it would leave on the floor, and rushed to Emma’s side. 

“What is it, my love? Are you okay? Is Henry sick?”

She shook her head, lifting her tear stained face to his. “No, he’s fine, he’s upstairs. As for me, I’m . . . I don’t know!”

In addition to her crying, her face turned the deepest shade of crimson he’d ever seen. She looked beyond embarrassed; she was mortified. He’d seen this woman in glorious throes of passion, was intimately acquainted with the most private parts of her anatomy, and had even seen her give birth. What could possibly make her so uncomfortable? 

He had to tread carefully, so he spoke gently. “Are you running a fever perhaps?”

He remembered Anna running a fever after Rolf’s birth, and he and his brother had been frantic with worry while Elsa had laughed hysterically. When she explained that her sister’s milk had simply come in, the two of them wanted the floor to open up beneath them. 

Emma shook her head. “My mother is in Canada, and I don’t have a woman to ask about . . . about this.”

Emma’s eyes were wide and pleading as they looked into his. He could clearly understand what she wasn’t saying. Whatever her ailment, she wasn’t about to breathe a word of it to him. He nodded. 

“Okay, why don’t I get Anna for you? I’m sure Elsa would come too, but both of them could be overwhelming and since Anna is a mother -”

“Just Anna,” Emma interrupted him. “I know their mother was a midwife, but I seriously doubt anyone talks about this unless they’ve been through it.”

There went her blush again. He frowned. 

“This isn’t about . . . um,” he hesitated, scratching behind his ear. “That is to say, Neal isn’t demanding anything, is he? Because I know that you can’t . . . you know, for a while.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “God, no. Neal found me revolting pregnant, and he finds me just as revolting now. I mean, he loved my . . . um, new bosoms - at first. Until he saw me feed the baby. He told me, and I quote, that’s disgusting, cover up.”

Killian’s jaw clenched. The man was an absolute caveman. He wanted to put Emma and Henry in his truck, drive away from here, and never look back. However, he knew that had to be Emma’s choice. So he let out a long, calming breath, and swallowed down the biting remarks he wanted to make.

“He wouldn’t hurt me or the baby,” Emma insisted. 

Killian wasn’t so sure. Nevertheless, he promised to get Anna and return as swiftly as possible. 

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

Emma sat on the settee in the parlor as Anna paced the floor, cooing over Henry. Emma wriggled a little, trying to get comfortable. It was a useless cause. She hadn’t been able to sit comfortably since Henry was born. 

“So,” Anna said, still gazing down at the baby in her arms, “what’s going on?”

“Well,” Emma answered, and was surprised when no words would come. She grew up on a farm, for God’s sake! She’d seen the miracle of life - and the disgusting parts. Why was this so hard? Emma blew out a breath as realization washed over her. She wanted her mother, that’s why this was so hard. 

“It must be hard with your mom so far away,” Anna said, as if she could read her mind. She sat on the other side of the settee, giving Emma an understanding smile. “I missed my mom like crazy through my entire pregnancy. I mean, Elsa was great and all, but it hurt, you know? I don’t think I’ll ever stop grieving her in some ways, and it's even worse now that Rolf is here. There are so many times I wish she were here to ask questions: What the hell is that in his diaper? What the hell is that in my underwear? Why can’t I stop crying?”

Anna’s completely un-ladylike burst of words had Emma laughing, and it was the first time she had done that in over a week. Anna laughed too, and reached out to take Emma’s hand while her other arm still cradled Henry. 

“At least my Mom is still here,” Emma told her, “or will be here eventually. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose both of your parents like you did.”

“It hasn’t been easy,” and for the first time Emma had ever seen, the redhead went silent. After a moment or two, however, she looked back up at Emma with a small smile. “So when is your mom coming?”

“That’s part of it,” Emma sighed, “they’re snowed in. They won’t be able to get out until spring.”

“I’m so sorry, Emma.”

“That’s life, especially these days.”

“So, what’s your question then? I mean, I’m no expert like my mom was, and I’ve only done this once, but I’ll try to help if I can.”

Emma bit her lower lip, then finally just blurted it out. “How long does the bleeding last?”

“Oh, God,” Anna groaned, “I thought it would never stop!”

“I know!” Emma exclaimed, relieved that she had someone who understood to commiserate with. “And was it a lot of blood for you? I’m scared I’m hemorrhaging to death!”

“No, you’re not,” Anna encouraged her, squeezing Emma’s hand. “It does seem like a lot, and it’s just awful, but it does start to taper off. You’re only less than two weeks from delivery, right?”

Emma nodded her head. 

“Just give it time. I bled for about six weeks.”

Emma wrinkled nose. That sounded terrible! She licked her lips again, nervously. “And can it sometimes look -”

“Like parts of the slaughter house ended up in your panties? Yes.”

Emma was shocked at Anna’s blunt words at first, then she burst out laughing. She laughed so long and so loud that tears ran down her cheeks and Henry woke up. 

“That’s my cue, I think,” Anna laughed. She kissed the baby boy on the top of his head, then handed him back to Emma. As Emma got situated to nurse, Anna got to her feet, but before she turned to go, she said, “Emma?”

“Yes?”

“You’re like a sister to me and Elsa. Please let Killian know if you need us, even if it’s just to talk.”

Emma blinked back sudden tears. “Thank you.”

“Oh, and that’s normal too,” Anna laughed, “the constant crying. The baby cries, you cry, it’s this whole wacky cycle.”

Anna left Emma then, the room still filled with her laughter and encouragement. 

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

Anna came down the porch steps of the Gold farmhouse and slid into the passenger seat of the ice truck. For once in her life, she was absolutely silent, and it made Killian extremely irritated. 

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“How did it go?”

Anna just stared at him - and what was that smug smile on her face? 

“Come on, Anna, is Emma okay?”

Anna waved her hand. “Oh yeah, she’ll be fine.”

Killian let out a relieved sigh as he put the truck in drive and started towards home. When Anna spoke again, he almost drove right off the road. 

“And I was so excited to hold my sister’s nephew.”

He managed to get the truck back under control, then tossed Anna a shocked look. She arched a brow at him - ah, so that was the reason for the smug smile. 

“So,” she asked him, “are you going to tell Liam? Or should I?”

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

“I can’t believe this!” Liam shouted, his face mottled red with anger. 

He paced back and forth, his hands occasionally going to his hair. Killian had known his brother wouldn’t take the news well, but at this rate, Liam would pull all his hair out. He stopped pacing and railed on Killian once again. 

“You had to make the iceman stereotype true! I knew you were far too charming.”

“So which is it, Liam? You can’t believe what I did, or I’m so charming it doesn’t surprise you? Cause it can’t be both.”

Liam glared at him. “I should have made the deliveries and had you keep the books.” 

Killian flashed a roguish grin. “I like to use my hands and get out and see people.”

“Poor choice of words, little brother.”

“Younger,” Killian muttered automatically, “and she was lonely and sad.”

  “There’s a depression going on! Are you going to sleep with every sad and lonely woman?”

Killian grinned cheekily. “Just seeing me usually does the trick. Emma just needed my full and prompt attention.”

The parlor door opened, and Elsa breezed in, leveling them both with a look colder than the ice they delivered. Killian almost chuckled at the way Liam straightened his spine like he was on a naval ship again.

“Would you two stop going at it like children?” she snapped. “Killian, at least have the decency to apologize for your behavior.”

Liam arched a brow at his little brother, but before he got too smug, Elsa turned and lit into him as well. 

“And you. Liam, did you seriously not see this coming? Anna and I knew Killian had fallen for her the first time he brought her up.”

“That’s beside the point!” Liam protested. “Do you know how much it could hurt our business if word of this gets out?”

Elsa rolled her eyes. “I’m far more concerned about the worldwide depression when it comes to the business. Whose knickers Killian is getting into is neither here nor there.”

“Elsa!” Liam, ever the Puritan, admonished his wife. Killian did laugh then. Until Elsa leveled him with a glacial stare.

“I hope you know what you’ve done. The Golds aren’t a family you want to mess with. I hope for your sake, and Emma’s, that they never find out you’re that baby’s father.”

Killian’s face drained of its color and his heart lurched in his chest. He knew Elsa was right. 

God help them all: he, Emma, and Henry. 

Especially Henry. 

[the-darkdragonfly]

WIP Wednesday: The Ripple Effect - A Captain Swan Tale

Chapter Nineteen: The Curse {coming soon}

Killian had told her tales of his Jolly, as she lay wrapped in the strong comfort of his embrace. He whispered of how she was special, enchanted, of how she had kept him safe and whole for centuries longer than she ought to have.

Emma had listened, lulled into a state of half sleep by the low timber of his voice, smooth and low like the rumble of a distant storm. Images of a darkly dressed figure at the helm of a brightly painted ship washed across her mind, the gleaming yellow of the gunwale paint so stark a contrast with the wrath and anger he had wrapped himself in for so long.

Enchanted.

She had smiled, a wistful sort of happiness settling in her bones at the thought. And as she’d stood on the gleaming deck one last time, her daughter safe and warm and solid in her arms, she felt a stirring within her blood of something she had almost forgotten the feeling of.

Magic.

It skittered under the surface of her skin, familiar and almost within reach. It was fleeting, like something she should remember, but her mind was sluggish and foggy, unable to bring it to the surface.

She had managed to extract the wooden disk from Hope's grasp, dangling a different treasure in front of the baby's gaze, a prettily coloured sea shell which Killian had found for her on their beach a few days before. Killian spent hours together walking the length of the sea’s edge, the calls of the gulls above them a familiar soundtrack they had listened to for over a year, Hope clinging to his side like a blue-eyed koala.

The disk was smooth and soft against her fingers while it sat heavily in her palm, a faint tingle like pins and needles speeding up her forearms before disappearing into nothing, a reminder of the home he had given up for her.

Emma sat waiting for him, the tea she had brewed sitting untouched, growing cold in the delicate China cup Killian had gifted her for their first wedding anniversary- it’s supposed to be paper- as he blushed while explaining wedding milestone gifts he had researched- but I had hoped you wouldn’t mind- and she smiled the smile which was just for him and kissed him thoroughly.

She had asked him, fingers carding through his hair- you need a haircut, again- what year China was supposed to be, while his teeth ghosted across her throat, the feel of her pulse thrumming quickly against his lips.

He licked the underside of her jaw, teasing them both while her body healed from the trauma of birth, before answering, the word twenty hot and quiet against her skin.

She giggled, his beard scratching softly against her chest as he sucked a trail into her skin- paper can be twenty then- his arms tightening around her at her words.

The garden gate slammed shut, shaking her from remembering that evening nearly three months before, the memory of the candlelight soft and bright in their bedroom which had been filled once more with tapers as it had been the night of their wedding, just as she’d always wanted it to be. The gate would need mending before the snow came, the weeks of good weather rapidly closing in as the nights turned colder.

He would be in soon, and Emma breathed deeply to settle her rising nerves.

They were fine.

Nothing had changed.

She had been worried, the decision to step aboard the Jolly one last time hanging over her with the possibility of consequences she hadn’t thought to consider.

What if…?

* * *

Need to catch up? Read the Tale here

Tagging:

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[sailtoafarawayland]

Entwined: Family Outtakes Ch. 3

Summary: A little bit of Wish Captain Cobra bonding from early on in the Entwined universe. 

Rating: G

AO3 - FF

Chapter Three: An Unexpected Emergency

Henry lunged forward, nearly leaving his seat on the couch as he slammed the joystick home and button mashed to gain the last kill of the round, letting out a whoop of victory. He scrolled through the stats while his friends went for another bag of chips, pausing when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Pulling it free and glancing at the screen, he saw the house number pop up under his mom's name. That was weird – as far as he knew she was at work with Killian, and Hook didn't typically call him. He frowned, immediately worried. They did live in Storybrooke after all, and even though things had been peaceful since the Black Fairy, there was always that lingering worry that any day the other shoe would drop.

“Hello?” he asked, raising the phone to his ear and moving from the couch to the window, pushing aside the curtain and glancing down the quiet street to make sure there were no signs of strange colored clouds billowing.

“I'm glad you answered, lad,” Hook's voice came through the speaker, his discomfort clear in the heavy exhale that followed. “I've a bit of an emergency at the house.”

“Have you called Mom?” Henry was already moving back through the living room, motioning to his friends that he had to head out as he grabbed his bag and shoved his feet into his sneakers. “Are you okay?”

“Perhaps emergency was a tad overzealous, but I – I didn't want to disturb your mother or Killian at work. Is there any chance you could stop back in?”

“I'm already on my way,” Henry reassured, wondering what could have gotten his...well, not his dad, and maybe not quite his stepdad yet, but Hook had certainly slipped easily into a space above 'his mom's boyfriend', and Henry knew one day he'd care for him the same way he did Killian, the man who had become a father figure to him. “Can you tell me what happened? This isn't like a curse thing or something, right? Because if it is, we should really – ”

“Not unless you consider this bloody machine accursed,” Hook spat on the other end of the line, several more curses that Henry was pretty sure his mom would not appreciate him hearing following alongside the sound of something clanging against metal.

“I'll be home in five minutes, okay?”

“Aye,” Hook sighed, “You've my thanks, lad.

Henry nodded and smiled even though Hook couldn't see him.

“Just try to keep everything in one piece until I get there. See you in five.”

/

Henry took the steps to the front door two at a time, the handle leaping out of his reach as Hook yanked it open, the muscle in his jaw ticking wildly as he ran his hand through his hair.

That was what made Henry notice the bubbles – clumps of frothy bubbles clinging to Hook's ear and streaks of them dissipating along the edges of his jaw and between the strands of his hair.

“The bloody washer box is possessed,” Hook growled, stepping back and letting Henry inside to shoulder his bag onto the floor, his eyes widening as he took in the steady stream of suds pouring out of the laundry room and into the hallway. “I thought I'd help with some of the laundering, and I've seen your mother do it often enough – put them in the front, pour the lye into the box, push the buttons, and then they come out clean.”

“Yeah,” Henry hesitated, stepping gingerly across the damp floor and peeking around the corner into the laundry room. “I guess you could say that's about how it works...how much soap did you use?”

“Your mother just pours it in, so I did the same – and all seemed to be going well until I came back down to this. I've pushed every button on the bloody thing, but it won't stop.”

The lights across the top of the washer were a steady blue, the drum still churning out an ungodly amount of suds that bubbled and fell from around the door seal, making their way across the floor. Stepping carefully, the tile slick beneath his sneakers, Henry made his way to the machine and held the power button, hoping that would solve the issue, but the washer ignored him, all of the lights staying stubbornly lit.

“I guess we'll have to unplug it,” he grimaced, glad that the cord was at least accessible above the unit.

“Unplug it?” Hook questioned, standing in the doorway, the bottom of his jeans damp from wading through the bubbles.

“Yeah,” Henry, muttered, heaving himself out of the water and entirely on top of the machine, making sure his sneakers weren't touching anything wet. “You might want to back up, so you're not in the water – and just, don't touch anything with your hook, okay?”

“Aye, that sounds simple enough,” Hook agreed, glad to be relieved of the burden modern technology presented. He backed across the hall and dropped to the bench seat, hook in his lap.  

Henry carefully gripped the edge of the large plug and – after a tense moment of quiet prayer that he wouldn't get shocked – the rhythmic shushing of the machine came to a sudden halt, the bubbles crackling meekly from around the door as it stopped agitating.

“Well done, lad!” Hook called, getting up from his seat and peering into the laundry room, his hand running wearily through his hair and dislodging a few more bubbles. “I was beginning to think not even magic could have ceased its destruction.”

“No magic here,” Henry smiled, waving the gray cord in his hand. “Machines don't work in this world without being plugged in – this thing's kind of like its heart, so when you take it out, it – ”

Henry stopped as Hook's smile faltered and disappeared, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, gaze dropping to the floor and fingers tightening against his palm.

“Hook, I'm sorry,” he rushed, dropping the plug to the top of the washer and sliding back to his feet, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. It wasn't as if he didn't know Killian's history, and he knew that Hook shared almost all of it – including the thing that had cost him his hand and turned him into a revenge-obsessed pirate for hundreds of years. “I shouldn't have...that was stupid, I – ”

“It's quite alright, m'boy,” Hook sighed, the tension slipping away from him as quickly as Henry's words had brought it on. “I've lost many things in my life,” he said, stepping forward and clapping Henry on the shoulder, “but I've gained much as well.”

He couldn't help but smile at the weight of Hook's hand and the way the sadness in his eyes was tempered by  joy – it was the same look he'd seen so many times in his own mom's eyes, and Killian's as well.

“We're gonna find her, I know it,” he promised, lips tightening with determination. “My mom won't stop until we figure out how to fix your heart, and neither will Killian – it's kind of what our family does, we always find each other – and we've never let a curse stop us before. We are going to get her back.”

“I hope so – I think you'd love Alice. She has an imagination just as big as yours, and a love for books as well, though you'll have to explain the – what are they again, video games?”

“Yup, and I bet she'll love them too. I can't wait to meet her.”

Hook nodded, stepping back into the hall and surveying the mess around their feet once more.

“Well, I suppose I should see to cleaning this up, and you're free to return to your day off, lad – I can't thank you enough. Learning everything there is to know of this realm, it's not been easy, and I hate to be a burden.”

“You're not, you should have seen Killian and...well, a lot of other people too when they first got here. Maybe next time just, use less soap – like way less soap.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Hook saluted, eyes narrowing as he stared down the washing machine. “I certainly never imagined I would lose a battle with the bloody washing box. I think perhaps I'll leave the laundering to either Killian or your mother in the future.”

“At least the floors will be clean,” Henry shrugged, grinning as he headed back toward the front door, Hook's dry chuckle following him as he picked up his bag and headed back out. “I'm gonna check in with Regina, but I'll be back for dinner...it's not fish, right?”

“I think by the time I'm finished righting this mess, it's likely to be pizza.”

“Perfect!” Henry called back, shutting the door and skipping down the steps.

There were no curses clouding the horizon, no Leroy running down the street screaming, no Black Fairy plotting to tear apart his family – life was good. It was better than good, and even though they'd yet to find a solution to Hook's cursed heart, Henry knew it wouldn't be long – he just believed.

END

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmomof4  @the-darkdragonfly​  @teamhook  @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx   @jrob64  @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree  @pirateprincessofpizza  @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever  @alifeofdreams  @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook  @hollyethecurious  @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells  @itsfabianadocarmo  @stahlop  @karlyfr13s @elizabeethan  @rkrbirdgirl  @batana54

[caught-in-the-filter]

Jolly, Old Capt. Killian

On the eighth day of Kinkmas, the prompt list gave to me: edging/orgasm denial

Summary: Princess Emma has a thing for the much older pirate Captain Hook. He has a thing for teasing her.

A/N: Shoutout and thank you to @motherkatereloyshipper for betaing all of the prompt fics for me, and to everyone who read sneak previews of these along the  way. ❤️ I’ll be posting daily for the rest of the prompts.

Inspired by the prompt list shared by @ahufflepuffhobbit

Rated: M; Words: 357; AO3; my Kinkmas AO3 series

——

“Spread your legs for me, darling. That’s it.” The Captain kept them apart with his hand and hook pressed gently against her inner thighs. “Gods, you look delicious, Princess,” he smiled, his face mere inches above her core.

He was several lifetimes her senior, if his tales of Neverland were to be believed, his hair highlighted by traces of silver with a well-trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard to match. Emma knew she should be anywhere but here, and yet it was the only place she wanted to be, splayed out naked before him on his bed aboard his ship.

She could practically feel his scruff on her skin as it just barely missed her while he spoke, gasping when it brushed against her clit as he placed a tender kiss to her flesh just above her most sensitive spot. He stared back at her as he slowly stuck out his tongue and flattened it against her, humming as she jumped at his touch, holding her steady as he dragged it through her folds before giving her clit a firm suck.

“Positively divine,” he moaned, repeating the motion several times, drawing forth more of her arousal.

“Captain, please,” Emma whined. His breath felt warm on her skin as a fire burned low in her belly, a desire for which she was already desperate, the softness of his tongue and lips not nearly enough and yet altogether too much. She bucked into his expert mouth as he laved over her sodden flesh. “Yes please, Captain!” Emma begged.

But as her legs began to quiver, the Captain stopped.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he cooed with a devilish smirk as he dragged his scruff against her leg down to her knee and kissed his way back along the path. “You want to be a good girl for your Captain, don’t you?”

Emma made her frustration clear, huffing as he trailed wet kisses along the creases of her thighs and avoided where she needed him to return.

“Yes, Captain,” she answered begrudgingly, but it seemed to have satisfied him enough that he gave her clit another teasing lick.

“Then don’t come until I tell you.”

——

Tag list ❤️: @anothersworld @batana54 @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @karlyfr13s @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @laschatzi @motherkatereloyshipper @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @sotangledupinit @stahlop @teamhook @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @whimsicallyenchantedrose @xhookswenchx @xsajx @zaharadessert

[elizabeethan]

Mandela Effect

On their way to Storybrooke, Emma becomes confused at the spelling of Killian's infamous bologna.

Takes place during Walk With Me, chapter 2, in which Killian, Emma, Henry, and Corrine are on their road trip from New York to Storybrooke.

Rated G

~1400 words

Read on Ao3

Read the Series on Tumblr

This was born after some discourse on tumblr about the bologna that Killian was force fed in jail, and I still maintain that the spelling of Oscar Mayer has changed. Based on a post by @thesschesthair and the response by @shipswreckedme, and on a brief chat in the discord with @gingerpolyglot.

~~~~

The car is silent as Swan bobs and weaves between cars, grumbling about their speed and moving her foot in a way that makes her own yellow death-trap travel even faster. She calls it traffic, complaining about it endlessly and groaning as they approach other slowing cars in front of them. 

 After what feels like hours, after Corrine and Henry have fallen asleep, she finally shuts off the music player with a huff. She mentions something about leaving at a bad time, about how they should have left earlier to avoid such heavy traffic, but he knows not much different. This isn’t the first time he’s been transported from New York to Storybrooke, but it is the first time he’s gone willingly. And while the seatbelt serves to tie him down to the chair, he knows it’s more of a safety measure than a means to keep him still. 

 Truthfully, he doesn’t care how they get there. All he wants now is to get her back to Maine so that she can break the curse. Maybe once she does, he’ll have a chance to get to know his daughter. 

 “How was your burger?” she asks him quietly, careful not to cause the children to stir. 

 “It was delicious,” he responds. It was; he’s beginning to like these modern foods. With the exception of… “Much better than the bloody bologna.” 

 She laughs, snorts, and the sound makes him smile like the fool that he is. He’s a fool for her, and he has been for the last two years that he’s been gone. 

“Was it in sandwich form?” she asks, clarifying further, “like, on Wonder Bread that tasted like cardboard?”

 “Aye, that’s right,” he agrees, shuddering at the memory. The texture of the bread, of the meat that can’t legally be considered meat… it was horrifying. 

 “I’m actually really sorry,” she laughs. “I had to take that for lunch as a kid in a lot of foster homes. All I wanted was a peanut butter and jelly.”

 He has no idea what she means by that, but he refuses to ask for clarification when she’s opening up about her past. “No one felt the desire to give you what you wanted?” 

 “No.” She brushes him off easily, effectively refusing to get into it with him. “Ugh, and there was that jingle! The kid who sang about Oscar Mayer, remember?” He wants to deadpan at her but she’s focused on the road. “Oh, no, you don’t. But there was a jingle.”

 “I believe you,” he smiles. 

 “Grab my phone,” she commands unexpectedly, gesturing for it. “Open it up and find the app with the TV as the picture. It’s brown. Yeah, that one.”

 He taps on the picture with his finger, confused but not altogether surprised when the magic box morphs and a new image displays on the front of it. She instructs him to find a magnifying glass and type in some letters-- O-S-C-A-R-M-E-Y-E-R, she spells. 

 The song that plays is short, irritating, and Killian rejoices when it ends, until Emma reaches her hand across the center console and slaps it against his arm. “Wait, go back,” she insists, and he wants to groan at the thought of hearing the cloying voice again. “How did the kid spell it?” 

 “Ah, you’ve misspelled the name, Swan,” he tells her with a smile. “It’s M-A-Y-E-R, at least according to this bloody annoying child.”

 “No, that’s wrong,” she shakes her head. “It’s M-E . Why would it be A ?”

 He stays quiet, raising a brow at her in confusion and an uncertainty of how to answer her question. 

 “Mama,” he hears from the back of the car, and a grin grows across his face quickly. 

 “No, it’s not M-A ,” she laughs. “Right, Coco?” 

 “Mama,” she says again. “Up.”

 Emma sighs, checking the time on her dashboard and turning on her turn signal. He’s gathered that it means she intends to move the car into another lane, and she glides across the road until she’s all the way to the right. “I guess we could use a break,” she concedes. “Someone probably needs their butt changed.”

 “Butt,” Corrine agrees. 

 Emma changes the lass in the back of her car with quick expertise, barely taking more than a minute to complete the task and somehow able to do so despite her squirming. Once she’s finished, Corrine stands on her own, shoving Emma’s helpful hands out of her way and waddling uneasily towards the edge of the car. Emma and Killian both dive for her, intent on preventing her from tumbling out of the car, and collide awkwardly as they catch her. 

 Killian’s hand wraps around Corrine’s ribs under her arm, Emma’s own arm wrapping around the babe until her hand lands on top of his. They’re close in proximity, each of them holding up their child, and it’s one of the first times that he’s realizing… Corrine is their child . She’s beautiful and funny and smart and perfect and they made her. 

 He wants to do so much, and yet he doesn’t move. He isn’t sure what he could possibly do, but he knows he wants to lean towards the mother of his child and trap her in a kiss. He isn’t able to, though, because Corrine turns her head to stare at him before screaming, “Up!”

 He catches Emma shaking her head, clearing her throat softly, before she backs away with an awkward smile, letting Corrine jump into his arms and carefully standing by in what he assumes is caution. He only has one hand, after all, and he can’t blame her for being nervous. She tells him that she’s going to check on Henry, gives Corrine a soft kiss on the back of her head, and starts towards the large building behind them. 

 “We’ll have to teach you down ,” he says with a smile as she drops her curly head against his chest. 

 “Up,” she responds simply. “Wock.”

 He thinks for a moment, recalling the last time they stopped and her souvenirs, and responds, “you want another rock? There’s no field at this… well, I’m not sure what one would call a place like this. The last one had a field, but this one has merely a building.”

 “Wock.”

 “Hmm,” he hums. “I wonder if we might find one. Shall we take a look around?”

 “Wock!” she shouts. 

 After perusing the firm, expansive surface and finding a few rocks that piqued her interest, they return to the car and see Emma and Henry staring at her phone intensely. He hears them from a distance, Emma’s voice carrying easily, and he smiles. 

  “I swear, it was spelled with an E .”

 “ It’s called a Mandela Effect, mom, ” Henry tells her. “ See? A bunch of people thought that.”

 When Killian approaches, Corrine happily gripping her rocks in her chubby fists, Emma gives him a look that’s somewhere between satisfaction and irritation. “I was right,” she tells him. “Henry says it’s the Mandela Effect. I’m not the only one who thought it was spelled with an E .” 

 With a chuckle, he asks, “Are you still talking about the bloody bologna, Swan? 

 “I’m not willing to let this go,” she tells him seriously, although the smile she gives him makes his heart flutter. 

 “Very well,” he concedes. 

 “Wock,” Corrine says, displaying her closed fists to her mother. 

 “You got more rocks?” she asks excitedly as she shifts her attention from Henry’s screen to the rocks Corrine shows her. “Did you and--” she stops short, clearing her throat. “Killian helped you get those rocks, huh?”

 “Yah!” she shouts, flapping her arms until Killian nearly has to put her down. Staring back at him, she explains, “Coco wock.”

 “Yes, that’s Corrine’s rock. It’s very pretty.”

 “Yah,” she agrees. 

 “Ready?” Emma asks after a few more minutes of Corrine kicking her rocks along the pavement. “Shouldn’t be too much longer.”

 “Aye, love,” he agrees, noting the way Henry’s head snaps up from his phone to glare at him. 

 He knows what’s coming. He knows they don’t have much more road to travel before they arrive in Storybrooke with her parents. He wonders if Neal is there, or if any of them will remember. A curse struck the Enchanted Forest; does that mean her family’s memories have been wiped too? 

 It doesn’t matter. 

 Emma will fix it. 

~~~~

~~~~

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @hookedmom

[snowbellewells]

WIP Meme

I was tagged by @optomisticgirl  @donteattheappleshook and @whimsicallyenchantedrose  Sadly, my WIPs have been sorely neglected of late, but as others have said, putting them out there and learning there might be some excitement for various ones, might give me the motivation to get going on them again.

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you, and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

(Just a note: These are more entries/notes in my idea notebook than docs/files, since I plan and initially write by hand. Also, I have pages and pages and pages of story ideas or possibilities, these are only the ones that at least have a few pages and are truly IN PROGRESS...)

1 - CS Band AU (about four chapters written, but nothing has been posted)

2 - “The Lawman, The Thief, and the Outlaw” (from the @CSMM event, a Rio Bravo au, posting, but long delayed)

3 - “Do as the Romans Do”  (also @CSMM fic, a Roman Holiday au, seriously just needs the last chapter, why can I not get this finished?!?)

4 - “Carolina Moon” (@CSMM, one chapter posted)

5 - “Foot Caught in the Door (This Time)” (@CSMM The Music Man au, one chapter posted)

6 - “A Year in the Court of Misthaven” - connected Lt. Duckling, EF vignettes

7- alternate S7 Hyperion Heights vignettes (intended to go with lovely series of picsets by @itsfabianadocarmo ) Possibly call it “Once Upon a Time in Hyperion Heights”???  (one part posted)

8 - untitled Gremma and then CS holiday short MC (first chapter written, nothing posted)

9 - untitled EF Arranged Marriage AU 

10 - CS as ballroom dancers modern AU for @revanmeetra87 

11 - tragic CS as besties modern au

Tagging: @the-darkdragonfly @sailtoafarawayland @searchingwardrobes @stahlop @kmomof4 @capnjay21 @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @drowned-dreamer @ilovemesomekillianjones @darkcolinodonorgasm @winterbaby89   (I tried to tag folks I hadn’t already seen answering this, but apologies if you have already been tagged for this!)