#anti baelfire

[jfksfanaccount]

It’s hating Neal Cassidy hours. Did Henry ever ask him why Emma made him out to be a firefighter who died instead of the truth? Did Neal tell him what he actually was, and what he did to the two of them? Or did he brush him off, the same way he brushed off Emma when she was telling him about how much he hurt her, and he didn’t want to hear it.

I wonder how old Henry was when he asked Emma how they met, and how upset he got. Or maybe he already got the information from the time of the 2nd Curse in New York. In which case, I’m glad he got to be angry at his dad before he died.

Sorry that got kinda dark. On every rewatch, I get so upset at how almost everyone in Emma’s life makes her feel like she needs to forgive Neal when she really doesn’t need to, and he doesn’t deserve it

[ouatnextgen]

Prince Squared/ Sleeping Princes Ship Headcanons

This is one of my OUAT Next-Gen ships, Neal (or Leo, as I call him) Nolan and Prince Philip II (or PJ for short)

I've always liked the idea of these two ending up together. Snow White and Prince Charming's son with Sleeping Beauty and Prince Philip's son? Makes sense, right?

Tropes: Rivals to lovers || Opposites attract || Hardcore denial || Flirting as a joke that turns real || Each think they’re the only one with feelings || Both think they don’t deserve the other 

Songs: Clarity- Zedd || Next to Me- Imagine Dragons || A Rush of Blood to the Head- Coldplay || Before You Go- Lewis Capaldi || Broken- lovleytheband || High Dive- Andrew McMahon

Headcanons Under the Cut: (All pre-relationship)

They’ve been friends since they were babies, but aren’t as close as Gideon and Hope.

They started rivaling each other at the ripe-old-age of eight, after PJ beat Leo at the third-grade spelling bee. (winning word was “irony”) 

Leo caught feelings first, in middle school. PJ didn’t start crushing until their freshman year of high school.

Leo is a jock and a “straight-A” student, while PJ is a theater kid and a “slacker” (he has dyspraxia so it’s not really his fault) so they don’t cross paths in school a lot.

They started really bonding late freshman year, when they had detention together, (Leo for starting a fight, PJ for skipping class), Breakfast Club style.

They like to hang out behind the school, just by themselves without any of their other friends.

Leo helps PJ with his homework, and PJ helps Leo with his social life.

Leo calls PJ “Philip” or “Philip Jr.” to annoy him, and “shy guy” when he’s being soft. Similarly, PJ calls Leo “Leopold” or “Your Royal Annoyingness” to annoy him, and “golden boy” when he’s being nice.

PJ knows how Leo feels about his first name, and always corrects people when they call him “Neal.”

PJ is one (1) inch taller than Leo, and lords it over him all the time.

Meanwhile, Leo is three months older than PJ, and lords that over him all the time.

PJ is very touchy-feely, throwing his arm around Leo’s shoulder, or bumping into him if they’re walking. Leo is more reserved, and does the same only if they’re alone.

PJ has dated two guys before. Leo hasn’t dated anyone.

Leo is just coming to terms with the fact that he’s Not Straight after compheting for a while, but PJ, who has a lesbian godmother in the form of Mulan, has known since he hit puberty that he’s gay.

Everyone knows that they have crushes on each other (except for themselves).

Snow and Aurora have a bet going on for how long it will take for them to get together.

[mysticalarmand]

No, actually, why on my fifth re-watch of OUAT did I notice that Emma went from the masc to femme when she started dating Killian. You won't see that shit with Regina or Neal. The embraced who she is, but she felt more insecure and more femme with Killian. Idfk, but it's more telling tbh. She's not herself around Killian. Again, FORCED RELATIONSHIP FOR NO FUCKING REASON Maybe, it's due to the fact that I'm in way too many fandoms and tend to pick this shit up, but low-key what's with misogynistic tropes in media 😭

[boosyboo9206]

The one thing that I will never forgive Once Upon a Time for is killing off Neal.

Not because I'm a swanthief/swanfire shipper and wanted them together so bad. But because killing him off was complete and total fan service to pave the way for captain swan.

I'm not the biggest fan of captain swan because, honestly, they're a little toxic for each other. But, also, because Hook's only purpose after a season or two was only Emma.

At least, for Neal, he had other purposes. Henry's Dad. Rumple's son - literally his humanity and the whole reason Rumple did everything he did. He was friends with Belle. And Wendy. He had reasons to exist outside of Emma and could have completely moved on from her in time and find someone else.

They could have had a healthy co-parenting relationship and been friends. And, while it would have been nice to, at least, see them try a romantic relationship again, the time had totally passed. There's too much history and pain and things that happened for them to work. So her not wanting to try again with him and be with Hook could have still happened.

Killing off Neal was a copout and fan service and a terrible choice. They also totally ruined Hook by not giving him a purpose outside of Emma after/around, like, season 3.

[wastingstarsss]

So I’m thinking too hard about Rumple again (surprise surprise) and holy fuck. OUAT really tried to convince us that crippling yourself and (most likely) walking home on that broken leg so your son doesn’t grow up fatherless was the act of a coward. That’s insane. And like- Rumple has to live with that forever. I mean Yh as Mr Gold he can use magic to walk without a cane but I bet the ache is still there, and if not he’s always gonna at least know that he did that. He broke his body for his son. It’s essentially branding himself, and what is branding usually associated with? Villainy. The branding of a villain. BUT! HES! NOT! A! COWARD! SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE FOLKS AT THE BACK

[oautincorrectquotes]

Neal: *Pulls up in a random car*

Emma: Whos car is that?

Neal: I don't know, it wasn't locked.

[rumbelle-scream]

something just connected in my brain reading this rumbelle fic with hook/neal side pair... hook did love baelfire, it's canon. that's his stepson, really. son of the woman he loved. a boy he taught himself. a man he'll miss. i missed that part of the story by being mad that the show went off the rails. it's cute.

[themeepyfreak]

One of the reasons that I could never warm up to Hook that is completely glossed over in the fandom is how much he screwed Baelfire over with seemingly no remorse. The narrative tries so hard to write off Hook as a good person and Baelfire’s friend in the later seasons that I don’t think people really don’t understand how despicable his actions were.

First, he either convinced Bae’s mother to leave her family or assisted in Bae’s mother leaving her family. I don’t blame Hook too much for that since the majority of the blame is definitely on Milah, but Hook didn’t need to antagonize Rumple and threaten Bae’s only other parent. (They did have Hook address that this was wrong of him on the show though which is more than they usually do.) And even if Hook told Bae that they wanted to go back for him, the truth is that they did not. Bae was 4-6 years old when Milah left, and Rumple killed Milah when Bae was 14 years old in London, so Hook and Milah were together for 8-10 years (common law married at the very least) in which they never actually came back for Bae or even informed him that his mother was alive. If Rumple hadn’t become the Dark One, Bae would have died fighting the Ogres, and there would have been nobody to come back to. I doubt they actually had any intentions of going back to Bae; Hook just said that to give Bae a more positive outlook on the mother that abandoned him.

Then, he built up Bae’s trust for the sole purpose of gaining information to kill his father. He did save Bae from the mermaids and sheltered him for a while, but all of his niceness (until he got attached to Bae) was to gain Bae’s trust so that Bae could give information on his father. Hook’s friendship with Bae that they boast about in later seasons was dependent on a lie and mostly faked on one side.

His main offense that is glossed over the most in canon is that he abandoned Bae and sold him out to Pan. This is debatably one of the worst abandonments in the show, and it is never talked about.

- First, Hook does this within the same day that Bae found out about his mom abandoning him and his dad killing his mom (rubbing salt into the wound). And despite how it appears in the show, this was not a split second decision since Hook (or his crew) had to physically call up the Lost Boys to get Bae. The Lost Boys were mainly on the island and didn’t lurk near the ship without being prompted (or else Bae couldn’t have been on deck when Hook was playing friends with him in fear of being seen). When Hook was giving his “I can change” speech to Bae, the Lost Boys were already called or else they wouldn’t have been there immediately afterwards. Maybe Hook would have hidden Bae if Bae agreed, but he had already sold Bae out by that point.

- Second (and why this abandonment is one of the worst), Hook intentionally sold Bae to a known psychopath that he knew would mentally, physically, and emotionally torture him. Hook knows the Lost Boys and how bad Pan is. That’s why he and his crew are always on the ship rather than on the island. That’s why he tries to avoid Neverland even if he is stuck in the realm. That’s why he hides Bae from the Lost Boys in the first place. Not to mention that selling Bae out was for a selfish reason (to be in Pan’s favor and gain access out of Neverland) and can’t even be argued as being in Bae’s best interests.

- Third, knowing where Bae was and that Bae was suffering, Hook left Bae in Neverland for centuries, perpetuating the initial abandonment. How do you think it felt for Bae to see Hook enter and leave the island/realm over and over again for hundreds of years, leaving Bae on Neverland over and over again? (Part of me wonders whether that’s why Pan let Hook off the island in the first place, to be able to lord about it to Bae.) I strongly suspect that Bae tried to petition to or stowaway with Hook (since he was trying to escape), but Hook refused him and turned him back to Pan (since Hook was in Pan’s employ) which had to hurt worse.

Maybe I could let it go if Hook showed remorse or it was addressed in canon, but instead, the opposite happened. Hook painted this picture of him and Bae as friends (even though most of their friendship was Hook using Bae for information) to bond with Emma after Bae “died”. He lied by omission of all the pain he caused Bae which is never clarified in canon. After Bae actually dies, he tries to rewrite his and Bae’s history again when describing their “friendship” to Henry. And the worst part is that nobody can contest it since Bae is dead in all of these scenes.

Not to mention that when they find out that Bae is alive in Neverland (which Hook did not seem happy about in the slightest), Hook decides to go after Emma, the woman that he knows Bae loves and that loves Bae (since Emma wasn’t quiet about that at all). They are trying to find Henry, and Hook is purposely baiting Bae with talks of his and Emma’s “dalliance” (which implies way more than a kiss). Hook makes it into a competition, as if Emma is a trophy, and continues pursuing Emma in front of Bae even though Emma said “No” countless times. And despite supposedly backing out of the competition after Neverland, he still continues to harass Emma until they kiss immediately after Bae dies and get together in the end. Whether you’re a Swanfire fan or not, the entire thing is rude and disrespectful to Bae.

[sassyandclassy94]

Words of Comfort

In my own personal SwanFire Storybrooke AU, because of the custody arrangement Baelfire would spend some time with Milah until he’s 17 (he would start to make excuses to not see her). Anyway, in my AU, he has low self esteem and self-confidence issues and Milah’s the main reason for that.

She’s always making him feel like he’s useless/worthless, belittling his dreams and goals, and once he begins dating Emma, she pretty much tells him in so many words that she’s too good for him and if they do end up marrying, it’ll never last. He doesn’t ever say much or talk about it but Rumpel has an idea of what’s up. Why? Because after almost every unfortunate weekend spent with his mother Bae would come home in a sad, depressed state; withdrawing from his father and drawing as a way of privately expressing his feelings. He also knows because Milah did the same to him while they were married: belittling everything about him every chance she got. Her emotional abuse and the neglect of their son was the reason they divorced. Before the divorce, her abuse was always toward Rumpel. Now, it was directed at Baelfire. Perhaps looking at him and being around him made her feel guilty but he didn’t care. It angered him that Milah would treat their own son like that. Almost every visit ended with a very heated phone call, always concluding with Milah denying her behavior, blaming Rumpel for Baelfire’s ‘mental problems’ before she hung up abruptly.

More on AO3

[moonbeamnights]

OUAT AU that I need in my life: Milah the selkie. Because this woman has the most selkie whose human husband stole her seal coat and now she's trapped vibes that you can possibly have without actually being a selkie. And Rumple totally just... Would Do That.

Also the Millian in this AU! Killian going with her to look for the seal skin or finding it himself and giving it back, just helping her find it either way 🥺 The romance!

[rumbelle-scream]

[SIGHS IN COMPLETE DISAPPOINTMENT]

Henry never had an actual dad. Emma never even had closure (even in the afterlife she still needed him.) Rumple couldn't even reconcile with his son.

Did Neal, who resurrected his father to go back to TLWM, ever reunite with his son and the woman he loves? No. <<Who did, however? Who the fuck did, in his place?>>

It's not like Baelfire is a character who despises magic and was tempted by it (in resurrecting Rumple) or anything. Not like that's the plot or any somesuch. It's not like Neal Cassidy is Baelfire who experienced what it's like to fight magic, and to live without it. It's not like he's comfortable with his cunning more than magic, or anything. It's definitely not like he taught Emma what a magic-escapist can do. It's not like he's the person who was Emma's most trusted until he betrayed her, and it's not like he didn't truly escape magic.

And it's not like that's his character arc, or that he and Emma are intertwined or whatever. It's not like we need a character arc, even. Just kill Neal off, put in Loverboy (because we won't actually deliver on that 'lOvE tRIanGLe'), then make it make sense. We need a cashgrab more than plot.

Ten years later, and I’m still upset that they killed Neal in ouat

[ouatsnark]

Thoughts on the blow confession?

'If this show completely changes captain hook into Killian Jones, he has no right to be in this show. OUAT is a fairy tale based show that is based on famous fairytale characters and Killian Jones isn't a fairytale Character. Only Captain Hook.'

I personally think it's bullshit.

Because If Killian Jones doesn't belong in the show, none of the characters do.

Regina Mills? Nope. Gone.

Baelfire and Henry? Hella gone?

Emma. Guess what, she's gone too.

Literally no one in the show is the actual character through and through as they're known. That's the whole fricking point. Why is it only targeted at Hook?

I LOVE it when anti-Killian Jones people think they're writing something so profound but you can tell they really haven't thought it through ... or they simply cant because either their bias blinds them or they really are just this stupid.

It's obviously only targeted at Killian because whomever confessed their stupidity here thinks he is in the way of their ship.

But, yes, you're right. The whole point was to take popular fairy tales, give them a little twist and expand on them. Aside from Frozen... I think Anna and Elsa were the closes to their origins... all of the other characters had something major that was different about them. OUAT even added original characters in so, yeah, what about those?

People are insane when they think they have to search for more ways to hate a character. It's OK not to like Killian Jones. But to jump through all these leaps of logic to do so is just psycho.

[roonil-wazlib-in-the-tardis]

Oh my God. Oh my God oh my God ohmygodohmygod am I in the upside down what the fuck is going on I'm in a OUAT Facebook group and there are people fighting for their lives in the comments to defend the fact that Neal, in his 20s, who is literally actually a couple centuries old, was in a relationship with 16 YEAR OLD EMMA.

She was 16

16

They keep whining about how it would be the same age gap if they were teenagers.

THERE IS A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN TWO MINORS AND A GROWN ASS ADULT DATING A MINOR

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

THEY ARE SHAMELESSLY DEFENDING PEOPLE IN THEIR 20S DATING MINORS.

WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK.

THEY'RE COMPARING IT TO CAPTAIN SWAN.

2.

GROWN.

CONSENTING.

ADULTS.

Anyway Neal Cassidy is actually scum and I can't believe that it's been like 10 years and we still have to have this argument.

[oautincorrectquotes]

Neal: I won a new phone in a race.

Emma: Huh? What kind of race let's you win a phone?

Neal: A race between the store owner, the cop, and me.

[insanelydeadlybookcollector]

I loved his season 2 death. The predeath monologue (backhanded and opposite to his and Emma's perideath confessions though it may be) felt like a real death, like there would be no coming back, like we could mourn and move on.

In your opinion, what was the biggest lost opportunity on OUAT?

I mean, Neal is the obvious answer, though I am going to come in with a hot take that things might have been better if he had died sooner than he did.

If he had actually disappeared into a portal at the end of season two as some kind of heroic sacrifice and everybody who mattered to him had to actually deal with his death and the fact that their time together was cut too short... that would have been fine. Emma would have regressed a little in terms of her openness--because even if people aren't always going to let you down, you can still lose them. Henry would have to cope with only knowing a little bit about his father and wanting to know more. Snow, Charming and Regina try to comfort Emma and Henry and don't know what to do. Even Hook might be useful in this scenario, connecting with Emma about lost love, connecting with Henry over knowing Bae in Neverland. (And also about knowing Henry's grandmother, because that's never brought up. Which I get, but still. A kid might want to know that his dad's mother was a pirate.)

And of course Gold. Rumple had 300 years of working to get his son back and then when he finds him, Bae hates him and then he dies. How does a man come back from that? In the real show, he goes off to Neverland on a suicide mission, determined to give his life to save Bae's son. Then Neal is alive and they reconcile--but what if that doesn't happen? What if Rumpelstiltskin has really, finally, lost everything? How does the Dark One live with that? How does Belle cope with her True Love suffering so much and also probably becoming truly dangerous?

This is all a bummer of course, and I understand why ABC wasn't going to go in that direction. But if Neal couldn't live, is it too much to ask that his death mattered? That's the real insult of season 3b (and season 4a), that everyone just acted like this vital part of the story... never existed

[elizabeethan]

On This Night

Emma Swan’s life falls to shambles suddenly one night, and Captain Jones is there to pick up the pieces.

Rated E for smut and some violent stuff

Also on Ao3

Check out other stuff I’ve written

Warning: This story contains a few very brief and minimally detailed descriptions of gore (blood), threats of sexual assault, domestic violence, and miscarriage. Nothing is graphically described but it's there.  This fic also depicts Baelfire and Walsh in a very negative light so if you’re not into that please move on!

A/N: while watching the CS movie long ago, I noticed that jmo/Emma has a scar on her chest above her left breast which you can see pretty clearly in this gif set. I wondered how she might’ve gotten it, and then created an entire universe in which Emma is a bar maid and somehow got into trouble one night, and Killian comes to her rescue. Then I wrote this prompt, and ouatxxxxx said she wanted more, so the rest is pure self-indulgence.

Tagging: @courtorderedcake​​ @kmomof4​​ @stahlop​​ @klynn-stormz​​ @laschatzi​​ @emelizabeth88​​ @lfh1226-linda​​ @kday426​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​ @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​​ @ouatxxxxx @donteattheappleshook​​ @cocohook38​

Emma tries very hard to keep her head down and get her work done each night. Being a barmaid in a skeevy tavern isn’t easy and Emma always feels the need to stay on her toes as she works around the raucous crowd of sailors and pirates. She’s seen things get out of hand before, and she isn’t ignorant to what goes on in this area, so she always has her guard up.

She maneuvers her way around the dark and muggy tavern carefully, avoiding sticky hands attached to slimy men, handing out mugs of ale to paying customers and being shouted at by the ones who won't toss her a coin. Her job shouldn't be difficult— it isn’t, in fact. But when some pirate ships make port just outside the tavern’s doors, she never fails to see the rise in aggressive and discordant behavior from her customers.

Granny normally tries to calm her down, reminding her that the pirates will leave soon and the tavern’s crowd will be back to its usual fishermen and honest sailors, but it hardly ever works. Emma can’t help feeling nervous that someone will step out of line and that she’ll be powerless to prevent destruction of the tavern or harm to herself or the other bar maid, Ruby.

She continues on with her night, handing out bread and ale to anyone who pays her, until she notices a familiar face. Though she didn’t catch him coming in, the dark and brooding man sits in the corner surrounded by other women she’s seen in the tavern before and laughing loudly enough to draw the attention of the other patrons. He looks as handsome as he usually does, wearing black leather and kohl under his eyes to make the bright blue pop from across the small room. She reprimands herself for always noticing, but he fills the tight outfit flawlessly, the muscles around his shoulders clearly defined through the leather and the hair on his chest peeking through the many open buttons.

She watches him discreetly throughout the night, continuing her work and avoiding the hands of the patrons until the crowd begins to dwindle. As it does, she notices that he stays put, continuing his games but dismissing the women who were keeping him company.

She gathers some of the refuse from the busy night and carries as much of it as she can out the back door, reveling in the cold bite of the air outside of the stuffy building. She hasn't been still all evening, and takes a moment to lean against the brick wall and close her eyes, breathing deeply despite the wretched smells surrounding her.

“Well, hello there,” she hears from beside her, and she wants to kick herself for hoping it’s him. Instead, her eyes fly open to see a slight, tall man leering at her threateningly. She’s frozen, the blood in her veins turning to ice in response to the man’s spine-chilling presence.

“Sir,” she nods in greeting, trying to sneak by him without triggering an angry response that she’s grown so accustomed to from the men who frequent the area.

“Where do you think you're going?”

She clears her throat, freezing again as his arms cage her against the brick wall and he smirks again. “Just trying to get back inside, sir.”

“I like when you call me that,” he says.

“I have just a bit more work to do this evening, I should be getting back.'' She attempts to be forceful, showing him that she isn't interested, but she has a feeling it isn’t working.

“You're not going anywhere until I tell you you are,” he insists, and she feels a bit of moisture hitting her face due to just how close he’s standing to her.

“I—” she starts, but she feels his hands grabbing her arms below the shoulders and she gasps in response, fear grasping onto her. “Sir, I can’t, I have a husband.”

“I don’t give a damn about your husband. One man can’t claim a woman who looks like you.”

Tears begin to sting at her eyes as he takes a small dagger from the side of his leg, holding it up to her throat threateningly before she feels a menacing hand trailing roughly down her side. “Please,” she begs softly through a sob. He puts his hand against her mouth and hisses to silence her and she takes her opportunity, biting down on his salty flesh.

He shouts, and the knife slips from her throat. “Stupid bitch!” he screams at her, spitting at her and shaking out his hand. “And you got blood on my sleeve. You idiotic wench.”

Stunned, Emma flounders quickly away from him and reaches for the door, but he grabs her by the wrist again and pulls her towards him. She lets out a loud cry, feeling a sharp sting on the skin of her left breast as he tugs that same arm, and she thinks she must have truly bungled her escape from this monster. She tries to accept her fate, crying some more as he forces her to the ground, until he’s suddenly off of her and on the cobblestones before her.

She hears shouting followed by the sound of a fist contacting the man’s face and thinks a bone may have cracked at the impact. She chooses this moment to scurry away on her hands and heels, dragging her frock below her.

“Swan,” she hears eventually. Her eyes are open, she thinks, but she can’t see much of what’s going on around her. “Swan, he isn’t here anymore.”

When she finally sees him, she’s panting as her eyes make contact with his, and the bright blue grounds her just slightly. “We’ve got to go, love. You're bleeding everywhere, we’ve got to get you cleaned up.”

She isn't sure what kind of sound escapes her throat when he takes her hand in his, pulling her up onto her feet as she stumbles into him. She can hardly stand up, even with him supporting her weight, and she wonders what has happened to the strong, independent Emma she left inside the tavern. “Not Granny,” she tells him weakly, and she thinks she hears him scoff before a wave of nausea washes over her when they try to walk.

Stilling, she takes a deep breath and he tugs on her once more. “Come, love. We can go to the ship if you'd like, but we have to move now. You're bleeding quite badly.”

She whimpers as he tries to get her to walk once more, feeling dizzy and even more disoriented, and before she knows it, he hoists her into his hold and is carrying her through the streets until they make it to the gangplank of his ship.

Somehow, he manages to get her down the ladder into his quarters without dropping her or alerting any member of his crew that she’s even aboard. He takes a clean cloth from beside the basin and wets it before dabbing it against the skin of her chest and drawing a shout from her at the burn. “Hush, love,” he says softly, and she knows his goal is to soothe her rather than keep her quiet. She certainly feels less intimidated now than she had when the smarmy man hissed threats at her

“You need sutures,” he tells her after a few moments of silence. Her skin has gone numb at the feel of the burning liquid pressing to her, and she realizes he’s using rum to cleanse her wound. She wishes she could drink some. “I could do them now, if you'd like.”

“Okay.”

As he cares for her, she guiltily lets her thoughts wander to the first night they met. It was months ago, perhaps years by now, and he continued to request ale from her all night, tipping her handsomely. She was taken by him immediately and almost allowed herself to bring her guard down, but the ring on the chain around her neck continued to weigh heavily upon her heart to remind her of her responsibilities.

When she found out that he was not a naval captain, but rather a ruthless pirate, she felt conflicted. Growing up an orphan, she’s always wanted to travel the realms and seek adventure, but falling pregnant, marrying the father, and then losing the baby all in a matter of months made her too scared and traumatized to do much of anything aside from advance her career as a wench in a tavern by the port.

Meeting the Captain mere months after marrying and then losing her baby was a blessing and a curse. Each night he comes to the tavern, he shares brief stories of his latest adventures and it fills the hole of wanderlust in her heart as she falls for him again and again. However, each time she sees him and listens to his tales of splendor, she’s reminded that she can never have him.

As quickly as the thoughts of leaving her loveless marriage come to mind, they leave her, and she forces herself to move on from her feelings for the handsome, gruesome pirate.

And despite the decision she made all that time ago to stay faithful to her husband, she feels something in the pit of her stomach as the captain stands before her and carefully stitches her up. She can’t help but wonder if she made the right choice. It isn't as if Captain Jones even propositioned her to come away with him, not outwardly, but she always wonders if she would have done something differently if he had.

“You shouldn’t be out on your own late at night like that,” he says, finally breaking the soft silence between them as he finishes up his work on her skin sliced by the slipping blade. He had blessedly given her a few swigs of rum as he worked, so she felt the warmth rushing through her at the feel of his hand sweeping some hair away from her wound.

“I had to take out the waste,” she tells him softly, grabbing for another swig of rum and allowing the burn in her throat to distract from the burn on her breast.

“It’s too dark and secluded. If I hadn’t heard you shouting…”

“How’d you know to come outside, then? I thought you were busy with your many women?”

“I watched you walk out the back alone, then saw some bloke follow you and when you didn’t come back in, I figured I’d better check. Glad that I did.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. She is, too.

He fastens a bandage to her skin, gently tugging at the ties as the fabric loops under her arms to secure it tightly over the injury. “Are you alright, Emma?” he asks tenderly, lifting his hand as if he might touch her. He hardly ever calls her Emma.

“Yes, you’ve seen to my wounds very diligently, Captain,” she smiles as the rum warms her.

“That’s not what I mean,” he answers impatiently, clearly unappreciative of her lighthearted tone.

“Oh.”

“This evening could’ve gone quite differently.”

She nods, understanding his meaning. He isn’t searching for vindication or thanks; he’s worried about her.

“I need to get home,” she suddenly realizes. It’s far past what was meant to be the end of her shift, and now that she’s regained her wits, she realizes that she never properly closed the tavern, and that her husband will likely be looking after her soon.

“Let me walk you,” he practically demands. After what’s happened, she doesn't want to argue, but logically knows that she must.

“I can’t.”

“I won't walk you to your door, just far enough to know you’ve made it safely.”

He understands her.

~~~~

When she’s home, safely guided by the deadly pirate captain who first entertains her with blithe conversation and then watches from around the bend as she walks through the door, she’s met with exactly what she was expecting.

He’s drunk.

He shouts at her for being home late. He chastises her for the soiled garb, telling her that they can hardly afford to replace it. He accuses her of being drunk, despite the soft daze from the rum having long worn off during her stroll.

He notices the bandage and becomes irate.

“You truly do have absolutely no respect for me, is that it? You’d run off behind the tavern with a man and allow yourself to be mutilated like this?”

“Bae, it wasn’t like that. He followed me and he attacked me.”

“I’m not interested in your excuses, Emma. You were in an alley alone with a man, and you got what was coming to you for being unfaithful.” She feels the tears coming back, burning her eyes and the back of her throat as her bottom lip quivers. “At least tell me it was Granny who stitched you up and not that man.”

She shakes her head weakly, swallowing the tears back desperately. “It wasn’t that man,” she tells him ambiguously.

“So it was Granny, then,” he says slowly, his eyes drawing narrow as he stares into her glassy eyes.

She swallows. She’s a horrible liar despite being able to tell when anyone else is lying, and if there’s one thing he knows about his wife, it’s when she isn’t being truthful. “It—” she starts, but he cuts her off.

“So it wasn’t Granny? Who the hell was it, then?!”

“Bae—”

“Who did you let near you, Emma?!”

“It was simply a kind passerby who helped me in my time of need, Bae. I’m sorry.” She’s lying. She thinks he may know it.

“So it was a man. You allowed a man who isn’t your husband to touch your flesh, and you expect to come home to no consequences?”

“Bae, I’ve,” she chokes, begging, “I’ve had a very difficult evening. Please, can we talk about this in the morning?”

“We’ll talk about it when I want to talk about it!”

“I’ve never been unfaithful—”

He cuts her off, not with his words but with his open palm clouting across her face.

She gasps, slowly reaching her hand up to the burning flesh of her left cheek as tears slide down easily. “Get out of my house. Go back to that man, you harlot.”

“Bae,” she cries out, her voice completely shot and pathetically weak.

“Can’t give me a son, can’t stay faithful— the only two things a woman needs to do— you’re worthless. My father was right about what he said when I married you; you're nothing but a greedy orphan. Get out.”

~~~~

She wanders the streets for a while before finally making her way back towards the tavern. She knows it to be closed by now, but she also knows which window Ruby leaves unsecured due to the broken lock, so she can sneak inside and spend the night.

Everything hurts her. Her cheek is throbbing and hot against the cool air and her chest is burning and stinging through her sutures, but what hurts the most is her broken spirit.

She feels so defeated. She had been thinking about leaving her husband for some time, simply because she was unhappy with his mood and his drinking and his endless verbal assault on her, but also because he serves as a constant reminder of the child she’d lost not long before she was due to give birth to him. Beyond all of this, though, he’s never struck her, not until now.

She tries to jimmy the window open with little success due to her maimed chest shooting pains into her left arm and lets out a sob of frustration. If she doesn't get inside the tavern, she’s unsure of how she’ll be spending her night. Surely she isn’t immune to another attack in a dark alley.

“Swan?” she hears from far behind her, and she jumps up and spins around to meet the owner of the soothing voice. “What the bloody hell are you doing?”

When she meets his eyes with hers, despite him being several feet away, she feels stinging tears once more, but she isn’t sure why. When he steps towards her and takes her hands in his, she knows it's because of the relief she feels, like a tidal wave crashing into her and carrying her to safety. “What’s happened?” he asks, reaching a hand up to her swollen cheek.

She chokes out a sob, dropping her head in defeat as she allows the tears to fully take her over. Seemingly without a second thought, he winds his hand behind her head and draws her close to him, pulling her against his chest and holding her tight. He hushes her gently as he had earlier, and she feels safer in his arms than she has in months.

“He threw me out,” she finally chokes out. “He was drunk and angry with me and he told me to leave.”

“And he struck you, love?” She nods against his chest, feeling moisture mixing with the hair there, realizing it’s from her tears. “Do you need a place to stay now, then?”

“I was going to stay in the tavern but I can’t get the window open,” she says quietly, still clinging her arms around his waist and refusing to consider the fact that she’s doing exactly what her husband had accused. She’s standing here, taking comfort from a man to whom she is not married. A man she could love easily if she so allowed. She’s unfaithful.

“Come with me, would you? I’ll keep you safe.”

She sniffles hard against his chest again and shakes her head. “I can’t. I don’t want him to find out.”

“Then where will you sleep? I’m not letting you sleep on the floor of Granny’s.”

He’s right. Even if she could get in, there’s no way for her to get upstairs where the beds are without a key, so she’d likely end up on the cold hard floor anyway. And Bae did throw her out of her own home. Where else is she supposed to go?

“I’ll sleep on a chair, or on a rug, or something,” she finally concedes.

“Absolutely not. I’ll stay on the floor, you will take my bunk.”

“Killian—”

“Emma,” he insists, pushing gently on the front of her shoulders so that he can finally look at her in her eyes. He almost never calls her Emma. “You’re taking the bunk, and that’s final. I’ll not have a fair maiden sleeping on the floor of my ship.”

“I’m hardly a fair maiden,” she argues weakly.

“Fairer than any I’ve ever seen”

When she looks up at him, finally lifting her head to meet his eyes with her own, she almost lets herself believe him.

~~~~

“We had only lain together once,” she says into the darkness. It feels like several hours have passed since he found her in the street, but in reality she thinks it’s been under one.

“Hmm?” he asks from the floor, rolling towards her and bringing the heavy blanket with him. It may be nearly spring, but the air still bites at night, especially on the water.

“Bae and I. I laid with him one time, and I became pregnant.”

He’s silent for a moment, then says, “I didn’t know you had a child.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh.”

They’re quiet again for a few moments as she focuses on calming her breath. “He attempted to do the right thing and marry me. But a few months later, I lost the babe. A boy.”

She thinks she hears him gulping. “I’m sorry, lass.”

“Is it horrible to say that I... I’m glad I don’t have a child to worry about now?” she asks with a breaking voice, tears springing to her eyes once more.

She hears him stir, and in the moonlight streaming through the windows of his quarters, she sees him sitting up, turning towards her. “No, Swan,” he says. “It would’ve been dangerous for a wee lad.”

“Sleeping here on the ship tonight?”

“Living with your husband.”

“Oh.”

He’s right.

~~~~

She wakes alone in his quarters, the blanket he slept under neatly folded at her feet. Her cheek feels less swollen, but it still throbs and the burning in her chest hasn’t gone away.

She isn’t expecting to see him so soon after she’s woken up, but a few brief moments later, Killian’s back in the room with some bread and fruit. “Morning,” he mumbles, handing the food to her and turning back to his desk.

“Thank you.”

“Aye.”

He sits down, apparently very engrossed in his logs as he pours over them. “For everything,” she clarifies.

He looks up at her, his eyes like steel and his jaw clenched tight. She wants to touch his rough, stubbled cheek to sooth the tension, but she stays put.

“Aye,” he finally returns. She thinks his face is softening, but he looks back down at his logs and stays silent.

After she’s finished her breakfast, and when it’s clear that he isn’t interested in talking, she moves the blankets aside and stands, thankful to have food in her belly as the dizziness she feels likely would’ve been worse. “I’d best be off, then,” she tells him with a soft smile that he doesn’t return.

“And where will you go?”

She shrugs. “Home, I gather.”

His shoulders collapse and he drops the page he was looking at, staring up at her with his jaw agape. “You can’t be serious.”

Emma looks around the room awkwardly before answering, and says, “surely I am… I live there.”

“That’s also where your husband lives, love. The man who assaulted you not twelve hours ago, do you not recall?” he asks condescendingly, and she can feel the heat of his anger from across the sturdy desk.

“Of course I recall,” she answers, reaching a hand up to tenderly poke at her left cheek. “But you’re right, he’s my husband. I have responsibilities. We all can’t just go traipsing around for a living.”

He scoffs, clearly offended but she isn’t sure why. This isn’t the first time she’s poked fun at how he makes his living. “He’s abused you now, Emma! What more of a reason do you need to leave?”

“He’s my husband,” she says weakly, not believing the excuse herself.

“He’s a rat bastard who lay a hand on you after learning that you’d been attacked in the streets. You needed sutures last night! Was he not the least bit concerned?”

“Of course he was concerned!”

“With your well-being?”

He stands from his noble chair and she hears it scraping back against the wooden floor before he takes several steps around the desk until he reaches her.

“Killian,” she starts as he touches her cheek with his own finger, but she has nothing else to say.

“Let me check on the sutures, would you? We need to ensure that they aren’t infected.” His voice has softened considerably and his movements against her cheek are so featherlight that she barely feels them. She nearly has whiplash from the change in his demeanor, from angry with her and her husband to tending to her wounds.

She nods in approval, realizing that over the last 24 hours, he’s been the only man to ask permission to touch her. Perhaps in her lifetime, if she were to really think about it. He removes the bandage that he’d fashioned last night, poking gently at her tender skin and looking at it pensively. “Looks sore,” he points out, and she chuckles.

“It is.”

“I don’t understand you, Emma,” he says, moving back towards desk and taking out some type of salve. He removes the cover and scoops some out, applying a thick layer onto her wound with gentle fingers.

“How do you mean, Captain?”

“I mean… I don’t understand how you could desire to be back in such a position. One in which you could be hurt again, perhaps more severely.”

“I don’t believe it’s of your concern. And I never said I desired it.”

“It’s become my concern. You made it my concern when you told me you were going back to the beast who struck you. And you’re so stubborn that I'm powerless to prevent it from happening again.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as he continues to work the salve into her flesh. “And what would you have me do? Live in the streets?”

“No, I’m sure we could find a place for you here.”

She balks at him because surely he can’t be serious. Her thoughts are drawn immediately back to when they had newly met, when she thought that if he had offered, she may have left with him on his pirate ship and run from her vocally violent husband. But he never offered, and she never asked.

Is this an offer?

“I’ll need to be going,” she says again, her voice just above a whisper. He refuses to look her in the eye as he ties on a clean bandage to cover her wound once again.

“If you—” he starts, cutting himself off. “If there’s anything… I won’t be leaving port for some time.”

It sounds like an offer. Of what, she isn’t sure. She isn’t sure she cares.

“That doesn’t seem very lucrative, sitting in the same port day in and day out without anything to pillage,” she says lightly.

“I’m the captain. I can do as I bloody well please.” She giggles at him, though she doesn’t think he was trying to be funny. “I’m not leaving just yet.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, at some point.”

“In the tavern,” she tells him. He nods.

He takes her hand in his once more as she walks towards the door and says, “you don’t deserve this.”

~~~~

“So she decided to come back,” he says through her as she walks over the threshold.

“Hello, Bae,” she responds weakly. He doesn’t stand from his place at the table, continuing to eat as if nothing has changed between the two of them.

“I see you’re still a harlot, haven’t learned your lesson. Who’s changed your bandages today?”

She swallows as she walks towards their sleeping area, hoping to change out of her bloodied dress. “It was going to become infected.”

“Right.”

“Bae,” she starts, her voice gaining some strength. “You struck me.”

He places his utensil down gently, so gently that it frightens her, and turns her head towards her. “I did.”

“Perhaps…” she starts, unsure of how to continue. She started off strong, but she feels her weakness taking over by the second. “Perhaps it won’t happen a second time?”

He stands slowly, threateningly, showing her an ominous smile on his way up and speaks in a frightening tone. “It will happen a second time, and a third, and a forth, so long as you continue to behave so deservingly.”

She doesn’t deserve this, she tries to remind herself.

She stays quiet for some time, retreating under his threatening gaze before he seats himself back at the tables and she says, “okay.”

She moves to the bed and changes her clothes, tears falling as she does so. Then she grabs what few trinkets she can carry without being seen by him, but it isn’t much. Nothing feels quite important enough.

“I need to be off to work,” she says just above a whisper.

“Fine.” He doesn't question her decision to leave hours earlier than she needs to.

“Goodbye.”

~~~~

Ruby let’s Emma stay with her in the tavern all day as she prepares for the evening crowd, baking bread and cleaning mugs. She doesn’t ask why she’s here, but Emma has a feeling she may already know without even having the details.

Granny returns from the markets and immediately asks Emma what the hell she’s doing here so early. Neither of them ask about her bandage or her bruised cheek. She’s lucky to have these two strong ladies in her life. Not only because they give her work when she needs an excuse to leave the house, but also because they’ve provided her with friendship and a sense of family that she lacks in her own home.

She never knew her parents, and growing up an orphan on the streets by the harbor hardened her. She counts herself lucky, though, to have met Ruby and her Granny, as it allowed her to turn her life around. She struggles to maintain her pessimistic outlook of the world when she’s with her best friends, even despite the trials she’s gone through.

Ruby was there for her when she found herself pregnant by a stranger. She spent one night with Bae when he was a patron of the tavern, and the resulting pregnancy was a shock, but he did the right thing and married her. She never loved him, and through bouts of depression during gestation, she grew to resent him. When she lost the baby a mere eight weeks before he was expected, she hated Bae for it. It was almost as if he was relieved to have been saved the hassle of providing for a child. Ruby was there for her then, too.

She’s here for her now.

“It was Bae, wasn’t it?” Ruby asks her as the afternoon wanes into evening and a crowd begins to fill the tavern. “Your face and your chest, Emma, was it Bae?”

She nods, then shakes her head confusingly. “My face, yes. This was some dolt out in the alley.”

“Out here?” Emma nods. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Do you know who it was?”

“I believe it was the one you call Walsh.”

“He won’t be back,” she promises. Emma believes her. She also believes that the damage Killian did to his nose may also be a deterrent.

“Thank you,” she laughs. “I’ll be glad not to get sutures again any time soon.”

“Did Bae suture you before or after he whalloped you?”

She realizes her mistake immediately. Ruby won’t let her casually brush past the pirate captain nursing over her wounds, that’s for certain. After all, Ruby was here for Emma when she met him, and could see immediately the way that she felt about him. “It wasn’t Bae who helped me, it was… it was Captain Jones.”

Ruby slams her hand against the bar, dropping the rag she was using to dry the mugs. “Captain Jones?!” she hisses too loudly, bumping Emma’s shoulder with hers.

“That’s me, love,” she hears, his cocky and assured voice approaching them from across the tavern.

“This man, Emma?” Ruby asks her, moving her brows up and down and bumping her shoulder again. She leans in close and whispers, “I’ve been telling you to get after him for eons!”

“I’m a married woman!”

“Hopefully not for long, hon. I mean, look at you.”

“Ruby,” Emma threatens weakly.

“An ale, if you please, ladies?” he asks once he’s close enough. “Evening, lass.”

She can see him taking stock of her appearance— perhaps checking on her old bruise, perhaps checking for new ones— as he waits for his ale. It’s almost intimidating, but a part of her also feels more cared for now than in her past two years of marriage.

“Good evening, Captain. Can we get you anything else?”

“I wouldn’t mind some company later on, if you feel so inclined to prattle,” he says boldly. It isn’t the first time he’s asked to keep her company after her shift, but it is the first time he’s done so with Ruby around.

“Emma isn’t too busy this evening, are you? You were such help all day, getting the tavern ready to open, surely you can take a break now.”

Emma shoots Ruby a menacing look at her suggestion that she take time off, as well as her hinting at Emma having been here all day when she normally doesn't come until later. Killian knows this, and she’s sure he’s putting the pieces together quickly.

He leads her through the crowd easily, pulling her towards the corner near a window to his usual seat and pulling a chair out for her. She sits slowly, never breaking her eyes from his as he moves to his own chair and plants himself in it, safely settling himself between her and the door.

“Alright?” She nods. “I’m glad to see you.”

She nods again, shrugging as she bites her bottom lip nervously. “I spent the day here.”

“Good.”

“He didn’t even notice. That I’d left.” He sighs. His hatred for her husband is clear, as it has been since they’d met and she told him she was married, but she thinks now he has a valid reason for it. She thinks she may have reason herself.

“He’s a bastard, as I’d said this morning.”

“I can’t— Killian, I’m frightened. I’m scared to leave and I’m scared to stay.”

“Let me help you.”

“Killian.”

“I want to help you,” he says again, taking her hand in his and looking deeply into her eyes. “Let me help.”

“How?” Emma thinks the tone of her voice must convey the level of hopelessness she feels.

“However I can, whatever you need. If you want to stay, I’ll stay; I’ll keep you safe. If you want to go, come with me.”

She scoffs, but feels her heart begin to race. It isn’t as if she hasn't considered this fleetingly. In fact, she’s considered it seriously. She’s never been happy with her husband, and Killian has always posed as a possibility for escape. When she met him shortly after she miscarried, she didn’t know he would be so fundamental in dragging her out of the hole of dark sadness she had buried herself in. She hasn't given herself the freedom to truly consider being with him until now. Now that he’s offered.

“I’m scared,” she whispers into the loud darkness of the tavern. She’s seen him threaten other patrons and drink in excess and flirt endlessly with other lasses, and a part of her has always felt unsure of him. But in this moment, and over the last several hours when he proved himself to be someone who truly cares for her, she’s more certain than she’s ever been. She’s terrified, but he makes the feeling melt away when he slips closer and touches her aching cheek once again.

“All I want is your safety and happiness, Emma. I’ll do whatever I can to ensure that, whether you think that’s going back to him or leaving.” The intensity of his stare intimidates her. She doesn't miss the flicker of pain in his eyes as he suggests that she may want to go back to her violent husband.

“I don’t want to go back to him,” she tells him with certainty. “I thought I had a responsibility to stay, but… you were right, about me not deserving this. He said I did, but I think that isn’t true.”

“Of course it isn’t true,” he breathes out, drawing his brows close together and giving her a pained look, shaking his head.

“I want to leave,” she finally admits, both to him and to herself through tears. “I want to go.”

“I want to help you.”

“Okay.”

~~~~

Ruby lets her leave her shift early. She says again that she deserves it for coming in early, although Emma hardly did a thing when she was here all day.

Emma lets Killian lead her back to his ship, and on her way, now that she’s of sound mind, she sees a trail of blood droplets in the streets and on the gangplank and knows it must be from her. She had no idea how badly she had been bleeding last night, and wonders what would have happened to her if he hadn’t stopped Walsh in his tracks and then expertly cared for her wounds.

When they arrive on the ship, his first mate looks confused and asks his captain what’s going on. Killian responds menacingly, telling him that he requires privacy and brushing aside him to lead her down into the captain’s quarters once more.

Being here now feels different. Things between them feel solidified, and she feels such joy at the prospect of being with him on their journey through realms.

He sits her down gently on his chair and she feels special, powerful, sitting in the captain’s throne. She looks over his maps and logs and wonders what sort of adventures he’s been up to aside from the few he’s told her about. She sees the journal of his treks and longs to pour over it.

Killian laughs lightly as he walks back over to her with two glasses and a bottle of rum. “Anywhere you’d like, Swan,” he says, gesturing to the map she was peeling over as he starts to pour.

“Anywhere?”

“Aye, I’ll set a course and bring you wherever you please so you can start a new life. You won't fall into harm's way while you’re in my charge and I can drop you safely if you like.”

Something has just shifted between them, a flame sparking in her mind in response to his words, and she realizes what a fool she’s been.

All this time, she thought he was bringing her along with him on his pirating adventures. She thought he meant to make a life with her. In reality, he simply means to transport her and drop her off, likely never to see her again.

She thought for certain that he had felt as she has since they met. That he wanted to be with her, now that she’d made her choice. She didn’t even consider the possibility of him simply doing this to help her, then leaving her behind to continue his life of piracy.

“Oh,” she says weakly, making to stand from his chair. She feels her heart racing faster and faster as her hopes are dashed to further disappointment.

“Swan?”

“I don't— um, I don't have any idea.” Her eyes swell with tears once again, she’s unsure if she could even count how many times this has happened in the last day.

“Well sit, love, we can find a place for you and begin plotting the course tonight.”

“I don’t know.” She feels so pathetic, letting herself cry in front of him again after he’s made it clear that he has no desire to be with her as she thought he had. She worries over her lip as her breathing quickens and she holds back a sob as he stands too, forcing her to turn back towards him.

“Swan, what’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she chokes. His gentle hand moves to wipe the tear that has fallen onto her bruised cheek and she flinches.

“Love,” he starts, and her heart clenches at the name that she thought meant more than it does. “Tell me what’s happened here.”

He’s so tender with her. She feels more tears falling at the realization that she isn’t anything special. He’s likely been treating all of the women he’s come across the very same way. A very small part of her throughout the months of knowing him thought that he was sending away the loose women who chased him for her, but she knows now that he likely enjoyed their company.

The thought of running has terrified her since she met her husband. She never wanted to be with him, married him out of obligation, but she knew she couldn’t leave him and live here on her own. He was far too dangerous, she’s learned. But the thought of leaving with Killian gave her strength. Not only because he could provide her with an escape, but because she knows how fiercely he protects that which he loves. She simply thought that may have been her.

“I’m fine, I just,” she chokes again. “I thought…”

She can’t find it in herself to get the words out. She feels so foolish in this moment that admitting to him what she thought was between them makes her stomach churn. All at once, she allowed herself to finally feel the love she harbors for him, only for it to be ripped from her grasp. As he leans down close to her and gently kisses the sore flesh of her battered cheek, she cries harder. “Thought what, darling? You can tell me anything.”

She may have believed him yesterday, or last night, or even this morning, but now she knows this isn’t true. He doesn't truly feel anything for her, only cares enough to help her flee her abusive home life. “Nothing,” she settles on.

He sighs, kissing her sore skin once more just over the faint bruise before he laces his fingers up through her hair and pulls her head close to his, their foreheads touching softly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his lips so close to brushing hers that she feels another sob wracking her. “I want nothing more than for you to be happy, Emma. Whatever that means to you, I want to give you joy and security and contentment. Please just tell me how. Please tell me what’s caused you such anguish just now so I can fix it.”

She sniffles, his speech giving her the strength and ferocity to respond in truth. “I would’ve been content to be with you. I don’t want to be dropped off at some foreign realm by myself, I need you, you dullard.” She pushes herself away from him, angry now for reasons she can’t explain to herself, and makes for the door. He follows closely behind, but not so closely that he startles her.

“Bloody hell, Emma, stop!” he says, placing his hand on the door to prevent her from opening it but moving away from her quickly. Memories of the night before flood her again and she’s glad to have him away from her as she considers the way that Walsh caged her against the wall and forced her to be still.

“What?!” she demands loudly.

“I told you I want your happiness! I would put whatever you want above anything that I could ever desire, no matter the pain it would cause me to let you go, you maddening woman. Bloody hell,” he shakes his head, “are you honestly daft enough to believe that I wouldn’t happily live out the rest of my days with you by my side?”

“What?”

“I love you, you absolutely barmy thing,” he says frustratedly, turning from her and moving towards the desk to take a swig of his rum.

“What?” she asks again.

“If you’d wanted me to drop you in some realm and leave you be, I would have, but it would have killed me,” he tells her through his glass, tossing back another sip.

“You love me?”

He sighs deeply, sinking into the chair that he likely saves for his crew. He still isn’t looking at her, choosing instead to stare down into the dark liquid in his glass as he nods and says, “aye.”

She’s calm. The turbulence of her emotions in the last ten minutes has taken its toll on her and she thinks she can do nothing but walk back to the chair she had left and take her own glass in her hand. She intakes a breath, choking the rum down and feeling it slide over her burning throat.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he finally says. His voice is nearly inaudible in the quiet room, drowned out by the sound of the waves lapping against the ship. She finally cocks her head and looks at him, confused and begging for an explanation for his words. “You’re in a tough stop, lass. I shouldn’t have put that pressure on you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not in a tough spot.”

“You only left your husband this morning. I’m perceptive enough to know that me telling you how I feel now is far too convenient. I don’t wish to manipulate you.”

She chuckles, leaning back in the chair to make herself comfortable. “I left a loveless marriage and a violent home this morning. I had left my husband the moment I met you,” she tells him contently.

“What?”

“Killian, I never loved him; I told you we only got married because I was with child.” He appears stunned, looking at her with his jaw slacked open and his tumblr of rum likely close to falling from his hand. “As soon as I met you, anything that I ever could have felt for him was just… gone.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, that’s so. And I thought, since I’d finally left him and you were taking me to your ship to look at maps and make charts, that we were going to run off together, leave all this behind, traipse around a pillage for a living,” she laughs, as does he, “but you said you would bring me somewhere and drop me off, and I thought you must not have felt as I do.”

“As you do?”

He sits up in his chair, as does she, and they lean as close as they can to one another across the oak desk. “I love you,” she says to him now that she’s finally able.

Killian stands from his chair with haste, nearly knocking it onto the floor, and walks to her swiftly, leaning down to take her face in his hands and kissing her with such fervor that she loses her breath. His strong hands hold her firmly, grounding her through her torment of the last few hours and carrying her home. His lips massage hers with a gentle passion that she’s never felt before; not from any man and not from her husband.

He pulls her closer, one hand remaining in her hair and the other trailing down her waist to drag her body up towards his. She lets out a soft whimpering moan as his tongue traces along her bottom lip, the heat erupting in the pit of her stomach making her clench her thighs together as she stands, seeking to be as close to him as possible. The slight throbbing she feels against her leg through his tight leather britches heats her cheeks, to the point that she doesn't even feel the ache of her bruise anymore.

“Emma,” he breathes into her mouth. “Thank the gods.”

She giggles lightly and bites playfully on his lip, drawing a low growl from his throat before he pounces on her again, tugging her impossibly closer to him. She drags her hands up along his chest, enjoying the feel of friction against her palms as she grazes the hair covering his firm skin, and she lets her tongue glide against his again until she feels the fire in her belly roaring.

“I want you,” she says boldly against his mouth, and he groans again, turning her around and hoisting her up onto the desk so that he can rest his hips between her knees. “I want you so much, Killian, I love you.”

“Gods above, I love you,” he bites out as his hands find her rear and tug her even closer to him so that she’s perched on the edge of the surface and grinding her hips against his. “I want you so badly I can scarcely breathe.”

“That’s because we’re kissing.”

He laughs against her mouth, kissing her chastely once before pulling away. “You always have such high spirits, love. It makes me feel so joyful to be around you.”

As she looks into his eyes, she sees that he means it— that he’s meant everything he’s said tonight.

“We can’t both be broody, can we? The world can only handle so many brooding pirates.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he answers softly, biting his own bottom lip as his eyes trail to hers. “Do you consider yourself a pirate, then? Does that mean you’re coming along with me?”

“Of course it does, you fool. There’s hardly anything keeping me here.”

He smiles, a sweet, innocent thing as his eyes light up and make him look a decade younger. “Then we shall leave come sunrise, my love.”

She returns his grin at the prospect of leaving this awful harborside town and her wretched excuse for a husband. A pang of sadness strikes at the thought of leaving Ruby and Granny, the only family she’s ever known, but she thinks she may be able to convince Killian to bring her back for a visit.

“We’ll have to find a way to pass the time until sunrise, then, wouldn’t you say?”

“Do you mean to tell me you don’t find plotting courses and studying maps to be entertaining?”

“Why should I? Isn’t that why I have you?”

“That’s the only reason?”

She drags her hands up his chest again, sneaking under his vest at his shoulders and then sliding up into his thick hair. “I suppose you’ll just have to prove me wrong.”

His mouth plunders hers once more, kissing her with a strong mixture of love and passion and animalistic desire. She hasn't felt so turned on from just a kiss in her entire life, and the way that his hands roam her covered body and his tongue dances through her mouth has her panting within mere moments.

A hand slides under her dress and for a moment, she freezes, remembering the man in the alley who had attempted the same motion. He falters at her obvious stuttering, pulling back and placing a hand on her cheek. “I’m sorry, love. You alright?” She nods her forehead against his. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine,” she says breathlessly. “I’m… I feel safe,” she tells him with a soft smile.

He kisses her again, soft and sweet. “That all I want, Swan,” he tells her.

“I love you,” she whispers, her cheeks flaming as she’s finally able to say it aloud.

He kisses her again, holding her so closely that her chest feels tight, but it feels good. It feels as though he’s holding her together. “I love you.”

His hand slips under her skirt again, slower now, and she feels relaxed at the feeling of his skin against hers. She hooks her ankles together around his waist and squeezes him closer to her, loving the feeling of his hips pressed against her own. In response to her movements, his hands slip under her rear and he lifts her easily, resting her weight against him as he walks them through the room.

“You’re certain?” He asks her as he steps slowly towards his bunk with her in his arms.

“Yes,” she tells him, continuing to kiss him through her words. “More certain than I’ve ever been.”

“Gods,” he murmurs, dropping her on her back against the mattress and taking in the sight of her laying before him as she blushes.

“What’s wrong, Captain?” she asks innocently.

He scoffs out a laugh, leaning in close to her while resting his body weight against hers comfortingly. “Each time you call me that, it goes straight to my cock.”

She laughs as her blush deepens, reaching her hands back up into his hair and pulling him back down to her for another kiss. “Show me,” she finally says.

He bites her lip in response, groaning into her mouth again and soothing it with a soft lick of his sinful tongue. “You’re a bloody siren,” he tells her as his hands wander.

“Undress me, Captain,” she insists in a whisper, taking the reins as she’s driven by her need for him.

Hips lips trail down her neck, biting and licking over her tender skin, but he’s careful around the injured skin above her breast. “Gladly” he mumbles against her flesh.

His hands wander farther down her body, meeting her eyes with his to ask permission as he reaches towards her laces and loosens them before he tugs her heavy dress down and tosses it to the floor with a soft thud. She revels in the feeling of his fingers finally meeting her skin as he pulls at her shift, gently grazing along her ribs while his lips continue to work along her neck.

She glides her own hands down his front, scraping her nails along the coarse hair of his chest until she reaches the fastened buttons. He groans again as she tucks her hands into his silky top and tugs at his buttons, forcing them to pop open and sending a few to the ground in a clatter.

“Minx,” he says, dragging his mouth along the side of her jaw until he reaches her earlobe and nibbles.

Her hands play with the hair on his stomach, desperate to slide lower into his britches and discover where the trail leads, but his own fingers distract her. They’ve found their way to the apex of her bare thigh, ghosting dangerously close to the most sensitive part of her that’s throbbing for him. “Please,” she begs breathlessly when his fingers threaten to dip into the flood of arousal between her thighs. “Touch me.”

“It would be,” he starts, sliding his fingers through her folds torturously slowly, “my pleasure.”

The pressure that he finally applies to her clit gives her a start, squeezing her legs around his hand. “Relax, darling,” he hums against her collarbone, dragging his mouth down to her right breast, carefully staying away from the left, a licking  lightly over her nipple. “You’re so tense. You’re alright.”

She nods against the pillow, plunging her fingers into his hair and pulling him up so she can see his face. She stares into his ocean blue eyes and she knows she’s safe. She’s home. “I love you,” she whispers into the night.

He restarts his movements against her, leaning down to press gentle kisses just above her tattered heart, the very one he’s put back together. “I love you, Emma,” he says as he works her up, higher and higher. She’s a writhing mess under his weight, moaning and whimpering at each move of his expert fingers. His mouth finds its way back to her hardened nipple, licking and sucking at it until themixture of sensations threaten to end her. She feels him rutting his hips against her thigh as he moves her toward her release, and the hardness against her only serves to excite her more for the main event. As he whispers sinful praise into her skin, his fingers dance inside her and his thumb rubs tight circles over her until she shatters.

He carries her through it, kissing his way up her chest and neck until he reaches her mouth. Their lips meet chastely, then his travel up her face to her ear and he whispers, “good girl.”

His words make her clench harder around his fingers before he slides them out of her and sucks them into his mouth, cleaning them with a wicked smirk on his face and humming appreciatively. “I’d love a better taste.”

“Would you please fuck me now, captain?” she asks with an innocent lilt in her voice that she thinks may drive him mad based on the way his breath catches. “You can have a taste next time.”

He thrusts his leather-covered hips against hers, making each of them groan as she reaches her fingers down to the laces hastily. She tugs them loose, pulling on his trousers so that his rear is almost exposed before he hoists himself up and removes them altogether.

He’s aligning himself with her in an instant, tracing his cock along her wet folds and touching his forehead to hers before he plunges inside. She didn’t get a look at him once his trousers were off, but she doesn't need to see to know that he’s well endowed. The stretch she feels in response to him is close to being too much, but when he pulls out slightly and slides back in, she revels in it, planting her feel firmly on the mattress and curling her toes into it.

“Gods, Killian,” she whimpers, pulling his head impossibly closer to hers as she links her fingers back into his hair.

“Bloody hell, you’re impeccable. You feel so perfect around me.”

She nods against his forehead before he moves to kiss her neck, thrusting in and out of her with gentle force that drives her mad. “So good, Killian, don’t stop.”

He grunts as he thrusts some more as she squeezes around him, seeking more friction and tilting her hips slightly to feel the pressure of his pelvis against her clit. She can feel every detail of his cock gliding against her walls and it’s maddening. He holds her hips higher in the air against him before his hands stroke down her thighs and lift her knees. One leg slides higher along his hip and the other slips over his shoulder, increasing the depth of his thrusts, before his thumb finds her clit once more and presses gentle and firm circles until her mouth hangs open in a silent scream.

It doesn't take either of them long, their yearning for one another the driving force behind their arousal. “Are you close?” he asks, kissing her deeply as she nods against his mouth.

“Please don’t stop, Killian, that feels so good, don't stop,” she begs.

“I won’t, I promise. Come for me, Emma.”

He quickens his thrusts and his movements on her clit as she squeezes her fingers around his hair and her walls against his cock. She comes with a shout, louder and higher pitched than she may have ever heard from her own mouth. When he finally spills himself into her, the sensation of him throbbing inside her simply intensifies her feelings as she continues to ride out her high.

He stills, both of them panting heavily as his hands roam her body slowly and mindlessly. As they come down together, he continues to press soft kisses against her neck and whisper loving praise into her ear. Her foot starts to go numb atop his shoulder the longer they stay stunned in their places, but she can’t find it in herself to care enough to move. Emma feels her eyes drifting shut at the feeling of his weight firmly upon her, reaching his goal of making her feel safe and happy and loved.

Her leg falls from his shoulder as finally slips out of her, and she pouts up at him playfully, dragging a smile from his lips as he stands to reach for a cloth to clean up. He hands her one as well, kissing her forehead before tossing them away and joining her back in bed. He holds her back to his front, tightly tucking her in close to him and kissing her head, whispering, “sleep now, my love. You’re safe and you’re loved, and come morning we’ll be off to whatever realm you desire.”

She slips blissfully to sleep, dreaming of the adventure she craves and of the man she loves.

~~~~

She wakes just before the sun, alone, the feeling of the cool sheets beside her setting stones in the pit of her stomach. She takes in a breath quickly, sitting up in bed, disoriented, when she hears his deep voice.

“Morning, darling,” he says to her from his desk. She sighs in relief, collapsing back onto the pillow and grinning as she shuts her eyes against the slowly rising sun.

“Come back to bed,” she murmurs into the dimly lit room.

He chuckles. “Though I’d love to spend the rest of my days in bed with you, I promised my lady love I’d whisk her away come sunrise, and to do that, one must first plot a course.”

“If I promise to do it later, will you come back to bed now?” she asks as she rolls to her side to look at him.

He laughs aloud once more, writing down one more detail before standing and walking to her to lean down and press a gentle kiss to her lips. “Are you rather good at charting, Swan? I thought you said it was boring.”

She giggles, reaching her hands up to link her fingers around the back of his neck. “No, I said I'd rather do other things. But I am a fast learner.”

“You are a rather shrewd thing, aren't you?”

Emma hums in agreement, kissing him once more. “I think you’re the only one who’s noticed.”

“That isn’t true, love.” He emphasizes with a kiss. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“After,” she growls, pulling him lower until his weight rests on hers. “Would you like to go back to your charts, or is there, perhaps, something else you’d rather work on?”

He nips at her bottom lip playfully, running his hand up along her waist until he can squeeze her bare breast. “I’ve just finished the charts, darling,” he tells her as he licks along her jaw. “Let me simply bring them to Mr. Smee and I’m yours for the day.”

“Only for today?”

“Today and every day for as long as I live, my love.”

And so he was.

~~~~

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