#capthamm

[captcas]

Something to Hold Onto by captcas

Emma Swan has always had two superpowers. First, she can always tell when you’re lying. Second, she can retreat into the magical storybook she was found with to visit her fictional friend, Killian Jones. When Emma gives the book up, she wonders if she’ll ever see Killian again. read on ao3

Phoenix, AZ; November, 2000

Pregnant?

Emma slides down the tile wall of the Shell bathroom. Usually she’d do everything in her power to avoid touching anything in a gas station restroom. Right now she can’t find it in herself to care about the amount of infectious diseases she’s being exposed to, her eyes fixed on the two pink lines that just threatened to change her entire life.

Threatened? More like promised.

She jumps when she hears a knock on the door, “Ems? You ok?”

It isn’t until she wipes the tears from her cheeks that she realizes she’s started to cry. Neal knocks again, “Ems! You good?”

Clearing her throat, she musters up the will to answer, “Yeah, uh, just a minute.”

She scrambles for her backpack, desperate for an escape she’s not entirely confident will be there.

It’s been too long.

When her fingers touch the cool leather of the mysterious book that has somehow woven its way into every important moment in her life, a sense of calm overwhelms her. She knows that avoiding her problem isn’t going to change anything, but right now, she couldn't care less. As she settles in her lap, the positive pregnancy test laying the floor in her periphery, she thinks back to the first time it allowed her to escape.

Des Moines, IA; 1989

Emma hears footsteps coming from down the hall and quickly pulls her blanket over her head. She hates the way it makes it hard to breathe but she also fears what’ll happen to her if she gets caught up past curfew again. She holds her breath as the door creaks open and doesn’t move again until the door shuts and the footsteps walk away. Coming out from under the covers, she takes a deep breath of fresh air. Once she’s sure no one else in her bunk is awake, Emma pulls the thick, leather book out from underneath her bed. This book is one of the only things her parents left her; a book, a blanket, and a name. Ever since she could read, and even before, if her foster parents were kind enough, she’s poured into these stories– escaping reality for ogres, pirates, princesses, and true love. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the stories almost seem ever changing and expanding. She never has to choose what to read, the book opening and picking a story for her– although she finds herself partial to the updates of the young Snow White.

Tonight she opens to a brand new story titled “The Brothers Jones”. She’s never heard of this fairytale, but that’s how most of these stories start out until they twist and turn into well-known characters from movies that the other kids watch to pass time. It seems rather short, but Emma doesn’t mind, especially seeing as it’s way past her dictated bedtime. She hunkers down into her pillow and begins…

Once upon a time there were two brothers. Liam, the eldest, was outgoing and mature, helping their parents around the house and picking up odd jobs around town to help with trips to the market. Killian, on the other hand, was quiet and kind. He often found himself staying home to take care of their mother. At ten years of age he was too young to get a real job, so their father, Brennan, and Liam took care of earning money in hopes to keep their mother alive.

One night, Killian’s mother took a turn for the worse, her breathing slowing until it stopped. The family gathered around, comforting one another over the loss of Alice.

The following days seemed like a blur for the family, preparations for her funeral taking up most of their time. When the day finally came, the Jones boys were distraught. Her burial became too much for young Killian so he took off to the one place which could calm his worries, Brennan and Liam calling after him as he ran. Liam wanted to go after his younger brother but Brennan stopped him, urging him to give Killian some space.

Emma pauses for a second, shining her flashlight over the picture of the two boys which accompanies the start of the story. Her finger traces over the face of the younger one, she thinks to herself that she wishes she could meet this Killian. She glances a moment longer and turns back to the story…

Killian ends up by the docks, his legs moving on their own accord. He finds an empty slip and decides to sit on the end of the pier, crying over the loss of his mother.

Emma suddenly feels as though she’s drifting to sleep. The words seem to be floating off the page and wrapping themselves around her. When a flash of light surrounds her, Emma is sure she’s dreaming. She shuts her eyes in fear, unsure of where this dream is taking her.

Suddenly, her bare feet hit cold ground. She shivers, still too scared to open her eyes, her hands acting as a makeshift blindfold. She hears what sounds like a seagull and smells what she can only imagine is the sea. It’s a comforting quiet disrupted by the soft sound of someone crying. In a quick bout of bravery, the young girl opens one eye. Gasping, she removes her other hand from her face and her eyes grow wide. Sitting in front of her is Killian Jones, the boy from the storybook. She hesitates, but slowly walks towards him. She now knows he’s the source of the quiet sniffling and pauses, unsure she should bother him. Before she can turn around and explore more of her dreamworld, Killian looks over his shoulder and wipes his runny nose on his hand. He looks at her intently, and Emma is drawn to the deep blue of his eyes which seem to shine brighter through his tears. His eyebrows curve in confusion and he speaks, “Who are you?”

His voice is the most beautiful thing Emma has ever heard. His accent is unlike anything she’s heard before, but it’s melodic and reminds her of her favorite song. She hesitates to respond, but somehow feels comforted by his presence. “I’m… I’m Emma. Are you… Killian?”

His eyebrows shoot to his hairline but he gives her a soft smile, “Yes, miss. I’m sorry I don’t recognize you, I’ve never seen you here before.” He scratches behind his ear as she struggles to explain where she came from.

She’s sure she can say anything, she’ll wake up in the morning and Killian Jones will remain the figment of imagination he is, so she’s honest. “Oh! I’m not from here. I’m from Iowa! Well, at least I’m from Iowa right now…”

“Iowa?” Killian questions her once again. “I’ve never heard of such a place. I don’t get to travel much. Is it close to here?”

Emma decides to sit down next to him, both of their legs swinging over the dark water. “I think I’m pretty far from home. One minute I was reading in my bed and the next I was standing behind you.” Emma flinches at her own honesty but reminds herself it can do no harm. She’s finding peace in this dreamworld, she almost feels as though she has a friend.

“Well, Emma, I don’t know how you’re here but I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad moment.” He hangs his head, fiddling with a hangnail on his left hand.

“Your mother…” Emma says it in barely a whisper but Killian hears it all the same. She clasps her hands over her mouth.

“How did you––” He looks afraid of her and she hates it.

“Killian, I––,” She reminds herself again he’s just a dream, “The book I was reading… you were–– are a character in it. That’s how I knew your name, and about your mom. I also know about your brother, Li––”

“Killian? Is that you? Killian!” Emma is cut off by who she can only assume is Liam looking for his little brother. She scoots a bit away from him and hides her face in embarrassment while he turns to talk to his brother. Confusion was etched across Killian’s face before they were interrupted.

“Aye, Liam. It’s me. I’m sorry for running, it’s just… mother… she––” Killian is practically toppled over by a hug from Liam.

“I understand, Killian.” Liam looks as though he’s been crying but smiles and rubs his brother’s head. “I’m just glad you’re safe.” It’s then that he notices Emma. “Brother, who is this?”

Killian’s neck heats up with blush and Emma has to suppress a giggle. “Liam, this is Emma of Iowa.”

Emma chuckles loudly this time and Liam looks a bit confused but brushes it off quickly, “Ah, hello Emma. I hope my little brother hasn’t burdened you with our troubles too much. Where is your family?”

Killian mumbles something that sounds like “younger brother” and Liam smirks slightly. She supposes it’s something between siblings and ignores the ache for a family that lives deep in her soul. Emma snaps out of her melancholy to answer, “Oh, um, they’re at home.” She shoots a look at Killian, urging him to help her keep her secret. She once again is warring with the part of her brain which says none of this is real but shoves it down in light of Liam’s stare. “I should be going.”

Killian looks like he’s about to say something when Liam speaks, “Ah, yes, well we should be getting back to our parents as well.” Liam’s voice cracks at the word parents, but he continues his strong facade in front of his brother. “Ready, Killian?”

“Aye, I’m right behind you, brother.” Liam hesitates but turns away to leave Emma and Killian to say goodbye.

Emma speaks first, “I’m so sorry about your mother, Killian.” She looks down at her hands, she’s never had parents, but she can imagine watching one die is not easy.

“It’s ok, Emma. Liam and I will manage.” Emma can tell he’s being brave for her but she lets him continue. “You go home now, I’m sure your parents are worried.”

“I don’t have parents, I’m an orphan.” It bursts out of her before she can stop herself, her innate need to be honest with Killian taking over. She’s scowling now, ready to spit back any pity he throws her way, but when she looks up, all she sees is understanding. He nods at her.

“Will I see you again, Emma? Friends are all too rare in my life.” She smiles softly, happy to have made a friend herself.

“I hope so, Killian.” They smile at one another and she hears Liam call him from a distance. Killian nods once more and runs to his brother, glancing back over his shoulder one last time. Emma smiles, and watches him fade from sight.

As quickly as Emma landed in this world, she is back in her bed. The book sits open on her side table. She grabs it, hoping to see more of Killian’s story to add fuel for the rest of the night’s dreams. Emma is shocked at what she sees. Side by side are the text of her encounter with Killian, and a perfect sketch of the two of them sitting on the edge of the pier. Emma expects to be scared, but instead she’s comforted by the drawing of her and her new friend. She closes her book, and places it in it’s hiding spot, easily drifting off to sleep with memories of ocean air and the sound of Killian’s voice.

Phoenix, AZ; November, 2000

She hasn’t visited him since Ingrid— it’s not fair that she uses him like this, but she needs him.

And he promised. They promised.

With a deep breath, she opens the book and thinks of her friend as the warm light surrounds her and takes her away...

Sea air fills her lungs as she finds her footing– the breeze a sure sign she’s landed wherever Killian finds himself these days. She orients herself by finding the water and spots a ship coming into land– Emma would know that ship anywhere. While she can tell it’s the Jewel, the vessel’s usually regal presence seems tarnished somehow. As it nears the shoreline, she sees Killian at the helm. A smile spreads across her face before she can stop it�� he always looked so at home on the water. As he nears the beach, Emma senses something different about her old friend. He’s older, each of them learning long ago moves differently in their separate worlds– almost as they need it to rather than on any set timeline– but she can’t shake the feeling there’s more to it than age.

Killian directs the crew effortlessly, not a single soul arguing with him. The ship hits land and Killian gazes over the side long enough for Emma to notice the heavy space beside him. Something’s missing– someone’s missing. It dawns on her as the ramp hits the sand… Liam.

Killian walks off the ship with a swagger she doesn’t recognize– a false confidence she’s positive only she would recognize as a front. Second guessing her decision– maybe she’d stayed away far too long– Emma reaches for the leather book. Selfishly, she takes one more look at her friend, or the man which used to be. He scans the beach with a stoic look that only falls away when he meets her gaze. A smile breaks out across her face as he runs towards her. She lets go of the book, anxious to learn more about where she is and what Kilian’s been up to. He barely says hello before she's wrapped in his arms choking up at the pure innocence of his laugh when he picks her up and twirls her around.

“Emma Swan!” Killian puts her down, swiping a soft curl from her cheek, “It’s been so long, love.”

Emma can’t speak, she’s changed since they last met, but not like him. Studying him, she releases him from her grasp and her hands trail down his arm, hesitating when her left one hits something foreign. Killian flinches and tucks it under his jacket. She’s still unable to put a finger on what’s different, but her old friend, always sure and steadfast, seems… lost. She can’t help but speak candidly, “Killian, where is Liam?”

He smirks, a mask unfamiliar to her aside from her brief glimpse of him exiting the ship, “Ah, yes, ‘fraid my brother was lost to the sea.” He gazes off before seemingly being startled into remembering her existence, “Emma! You can’t be here, it’s dangerous.”

Emma looks around for the first time since she arrived and realizes this place is unlike any portside town she’d landed in previously. “Where exactly is… here?”

If she didn’t know better– Killian Jones is not afraid of anything– she would’ve sworn she saw fear flicker across his eyes, “Best you not know. Why are you here? Is everything alright?”

His genuine concern reminds her of the pregnancy test she left in the Shell bathroom. Never one to mince words and never sure how long they truly have, Emma breaks the news abruptly, “Killian, I’m pregnant.”

Now she knows its fear– coupled with a brief flash of sadness that she doesn’t have the energy to dissect– that crosses his gaze, “Emma, ho–”

She cuts him off, she doesn’t want to answer the questions, doesn’t want to disappoint him, “It doesn’t matter. I will be ok, I just… needed to see you.”

He nods before turning to a small man in a red beanie who has hovered close by but out of earshot for the entirety of their conversation. “Smee, it will be dark soon. Gather supplies and take the crew aboard. I will return shortly.” The man nods before yelling a feeble attempt to wrangle up the rest of the crew while Killian leads Emma closer to the water’s edge. She knows there’s more to everything happening here than he’s letting on, but she also knows that if he’s not telling her, it’s with reason.

They find a small alcove, hidden from the ship, and Killian takes her in his arms swaying slowly. She can’t help but giggle, “Killian, what are you doing?”

“Just, I know you probably don’t have long, but please– before you go, just– one dance.” She nods, this tradition is one she should’ve seen coming. They danced the first time when Emma was nervous for her first homecoming dance– he taught her how to slow dance. Her next trip was to tell him she’d moved again and never gotten to go to the dance after all– so they swayed once more... that was the last time she’d visited.

As they settle into a comfortable stance, Emma feels something cold hit the small strip of skin exposed at her back. Logically she knows it should be his left hand, but the chill feels metallic. She stops herself from flinching, not at what must be a prosthetic, but at the temperature of the metal. Meeting his gaze, she can tell her lack of response comforts him briefly before the exhaustion and fear returns to his features. He forces a smile before pulling her closer— clearly, he doesn’t want to be here anymore than she wants to be home, so she dances. Killian hums quietly, a melody she’s heard many times before and often sings to herself when she needs the comfort of her friend. They don’t speak at first, the soft sound of his hum and the distant white noise of waves hitting the sand more than enough to fill the air around them.

Emma feels another wave of fear fall over her and breaks the silence, “I don’t really know how, Killian.”

He leans in closer, “It’s easy. Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.” He winks at her and they feel like children again— twirling in fields of flowers and playing along the shoreline. For a moment, she forgets the monumental changes waiting for her at home and just tries to be happy. Killian spins her around, dipping her, and making her laugh like she hasn’t in what feels like her entire life. He slows and begins to hum a different shanty she doesn’t recognize but causes her to sway back and forth all the same. She has to stop herself from jumping when he speaks again, “I know you’re scared, Swan, but you can do this.”

Emma doesn’t tell him that she knows she can’t, that she knows Neal can’t– or that he won’t. Instead, she just savors the moment with her best friend.

Whether he’s real or fiction or an impossible dream stopped mattering long ago— Killian is always here, a constant in her inconsistent life, and that’s worth everything to Emma. She gazes into his eyes, as easy to lose herself in as the ocean, and he looks back. They’re practically nose to nose and Emma can see every scratch, bruise, and line of exhaustion that covers his face.

He’s still one of the most beautiful humans she’s ever seen.

Maybe it’s that realization that causes her to lean in ever so slightly. His eyebrow raises quickly before mimicking her movement. They have history, it’s patchy and incomplete, but it’s theirs and no matter what Emma always finds herself back in this fantasy’s arms.

He’s fiction, always has been, but he’s been an escape all the same. Emma doesn't second guess her decision to kiss him– no harm, no foul when this is all a dream anyway…

But it never comes.

Their moment is disrupted by a loud cawing noise. It almost sounds like a bird, but the way he flinches and the stoic fear that settles across Killian’s face hints that, whatever made that noise, is not to be messed with. His back stiffens beneath her hands before he moves in front of Emma. Using his left hand– no, hook– he pushes aside the tree blocking their view, “I’m sorry, Swan. You need to go. Now.” He turns back to her frantically, and with fear in his eyes growing, she has no choice but to believe him.

Her heart is beating loud enough that she's positive he can hear it too and she’s not sure if it’s the imminent danger or the fact she almost kissed him.

He’s not real, Emma.

Still, the look in his eyes fools her into playing along once again, rushing back towards his ship as darkness falls like a blanket across the beach. Emma stops him, selfishly pulling him behind a bush for just one more moment alone. “When will I see you again?” She isn’t sure why she’s asking when it’s always been up to her.

He smiles at her before pulling her tight, “Just hold onto this— to us and our parallel existences.” His right hand cups her cheek and she takes a moment to find comfort in his warmth, “You’re one of the only reasons I’m alive, Emma Swan. Let me be your something, as you are mine.”

Emma can feel herself crying now, the reality she’s returning to feeling scarier than whatever has Killian rushing her home, but he’s counting on her to survive, so she will. “I’ll see you soon, Killian.”

He smiles at her one more time, bright and hopeful, “Aye, Swan. I’ll be waiting.”

With that, she feels the warmth bubble inside of her as the light surrounds her once again and takes her back. In no time at all she’s sitting again on the dingy tile floor of a gas station in Phoenix. She holds the book close once more before putting it back in her bag. She sighs, remembering Killian’s faith in her, as she grabs the pregnancy test and goes to break the news to Neal.

As she leaves the bathroom, she’s startled by two officers with their guns drawn. As she’s told to raise her hands up, the lifted watch Neal gave her for her birthday catches the harsh fluorescent light and the positive test falls from her hand clattering against the linoleum at her feet.

Phoenix, AZ; August, 2001

“Emma, are you sure?” The doctor questions her as he wraps her crying son in a towel.

She refuses to look, the tears and sweat stinging her eyes. Emma knows if she holds the small boy, she won’t be able to give him up. The doctor turns away, placing the small boy into a bassinet behind him and Emma feels a weight lifted from her. Being given up herself, Emma swore she’d never put a child in that position, but she also never thought she’d be giving birth in prison.

The recollection of her own upbringing sparks something inside of her, “Wait!” The doctor turns around, something like hope in his eyes. Emma knows he thinks she’s changed her mind, but in reality, her decision has only been further solidified by her choice not to send him off alone. “There’s a book. In my personal belongings. It’s leatherbound and full of fairy tales– please, send it with him.”

The doctor looks at the guard who nods before sending their partner to retrieve the storybook. She’ll feel safer knowing even a piece of her— and a larger piece of Killian– will be with her son no matter where he ends up. The book made her feel like her parents at least cared enough not to send her off alone, and she hopes it provides the same comfort for her son.

It can be his something to hold onto.

Slight melancholy aches through her at the realization she’s given up her right to visit Killian ever again. She thinks he’d understand– support her even. Still, Emma smiles softly as the book is placed next to the hospital crib before drifting off where memories of distant lands keep her fast asleep.

Boston, MA; October, 2011

“Another banner year.” Emma blows out the blue star candle, and makes the simplest of birthday wishes. As she begins to unwrap the cupcake there’s a knock at the door. Startled, but curious, she opens it to a young boy looking at her like she’s standing on her head.

“Can I help you?” Emma’s had a long night, and while she could really go for some girl scout cookies, she doubts the small boy outside her door at 8pm is here to sell her any.

“Are you Emma Swan?” He tilts his head as he asks, a simple movement that Emma almost finds endearing.

“Yeah. Who are you?” She’s trying not to be impatient, but she really needs to take a shower and wash off the scum from her skip earlier that evening.

“My name is Henry. I’m your son.”

Well she wasn’t expecting that .

Storybrook, ME; 2011

Henry’s adoptive mother is– something. Regina Mills is not who Emma expected when she spent late nights picturing Henry with a family, but he has a roof over his head and everything he could ever want. And the town, Storybrook, is quaint and safe. Henry seems healthy.

What more could she have wanted for her son?

Maybe to not have the gut feeling that something— no everything — is off in this town.

Regina (aggressively) asked her to leave after dropping Henry off, but she can’t find it in herself to head back to Boston just yet. She wanders into a small diner that touts an attached inn, and the warm atmosphere is beyond inviting. Against all previous plans, she settles herself onto a stool at the bar and orders herself some hot chocolate. As she sips her drink, she takes in the rest of the diner only to realize almost everyone is looking at her. Almost. There’s a dark haired man with his back to her sitting in one of the booths. Emma finds herself fixated on him, and the fact that, unlike everyone else in the diner, he couldn’t seem to care less that she’s here.

A waitress in a short red skirt drops off soup at his table before making her way back towards Emma. “Hey, new girl. You want some food?” Startled by her forwardness, Emma responds with a stutter, “I– uh– no– I’m not– uh.. Why is everyone staring at me?”

The girl– Ruby if her name tag is anything to go by– belly laughs before answering, “Girl, we haven’t had visitors to this town in ages .” Emma isn’t sure how to take that but Ruby doesn’t seem to mind as she keeps talking, “I mean, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever had a visitor in this diner. Strictly regulars. That’s why they’re staring, hun. Not to mention, you’re pretty easy on the eyes.” She shrugs her shoulder in Emma’s direction and winks with a wolf’s smile.

She’s spunky and Emma likes her, “Well, I’m happy to be your first. Do you have any rooms?”

Ruby scoffs again, “All of them– no visitors remember? Except room 9, Sailor Boy over there has taken up permanent residence in that one.” The waitress motions towards the man in the back booth before flagging down an older woman asking for a room key.

Emma glances again at the dark haired stranger, wanting to know more, but having no real reason to strike up a conversation. Before she can approach him, she’s being handed a key and ushered up the stairs to her room by a pushy old lady that everyone seems to affectionately call Granny. She settles in for the night, her curiosity about the town and its residents only growing the longer she stays.

When she wakes up, it’s to Henry knocking on her door again. She opens to find him practically vibrating, “You stayed?!”

She can’t help but smile at his excitement, finding it hard to tamper her own, “Yeah, kid, I did. Don’t you have school or something?”

Henry smiles, “Not for another hour, wanna grab some breakfast?”

Emma nods and follows her son– not sure she’ll ever get used to that– down the stairs to grab some breakfast from the diner. They order from the counter when all the booths are full, but decide to move when one opens as their food is ready. Emma thanks Ruby, grabbing their plates of waffles, before turning towards the booth just as someone walks behind her. The plates crash to the ground, both her and the man she bumped into bending down to help with clean up. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“My fault, lass. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Emma knows that voice– would know it anywhere.

When she doesn’t answer, he looks up at her, concern etched across the animated eyebrows she’s known for almost her entire life. If she wasn’t positive before, she is now, the blue eyes that haunted her dreams for years after giving up the book are staring directly back at her. “Killian?”

He looks stunned, but there’s no recognition in his eyes— eerily similar to their first night so many years ago on the docks. The warmth of his gaze, the excitement at meeting once again, and the hint of infatuation Emma always stopped herself from hoping for are gone without a trace. The unsettled feeling that’s sat in Emma’s stomach since the moment she and Henry crossed the town line the night before seems to boil over. All the air feels as though it’s escaped her lungs, suffocating her as she realizes the only person she’s ever come close to calling her best friend has no idea who she is. Her fear is solidified when he speaks again, “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

@mariakov81​ @lfh1226-linda​ @kmomof4​ @superchocovian​ @pirateherokillian​ @teamhook​ @nikkiemms​

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Worth Fighting For  by:  capthamm

Summary: Killian "Hook" Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma "The Savior" Swan's career was cut short. When Hook's manager moves up and the office brings in UFC's youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it? Captain Swan UFC (MMA Fighting) AU

Completed Chapters: 11 of ?

Last Updated: 9/22/2020

Unf...boxing Captain swan. Sweaty boxing Captain Swan. Yeah I don’t even dig boxing but I dig the hell out of this. Hot OTP is really hot. WIP.

Stacy’s Recommended Fics and Stuff

@capthamm @teamhook

[let-it-raines]

Shamelessly sending in a prompt 🤷‍♀️ Was listening to the new song “One Night Standards” and could totally see it as Emma talking to Killian (obviously the universe doesn’t want him to only be one night because she keeps running into the man EVERYWHERE) thanks so much for taking these prompts and being such an amazing inspiration for cs ff writers. hope all is well with you and yours! I’d imagine quarantine makes for some amazing baby cuddles ❤️🥰

@capthamm you are such a sweetheart! Thank you for this very, very sweet message. I don’t think I’m an inspiration to any CS writers, but it does mean a lot that you would say that! Thank you! And baby snuggles are pretty much the main thing getting me through each day, so I’m very grateful for them on top of so many other things 💕

I hope all is well with you as well. I hadn’t heard the song until you sent this in, and I think I may have ended up going in a slightly different direction than it. lol. I hope you enjoy!

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

No.

Just no.

No, no, no, no.

Nope.

Nada.

A big fat no.

Absolutely not.

No way.

“Why do you look like you just ate a lemon?”

Emma turns on her stool to look at Mary Margaret next to her. Her hair is still perfectly coiffed, her makeup not having melted away, and it looks like she just got ready. Emma, however, can feel the sweat dripping down the back of her neck from all of the bodies in here and the summer air of New York seeping in, and she is probably as hot of a mess physically as she is emotionally. They’ve been here for an hour, maybe a little less, and in that time, Mary Margaret has been slowly sipping on one glass of wine while Emma downed two whiskey sours. Then again, Emma has always been more of a drinker than her, and her tolerance is higher.

None of that really matters, but if Emma ignores Mary Margaret for long enough, maybe the question will go away.

“Emma?”

Or not.

“I have no idea what my face looks like, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t look like I just ate a lemon.”

“Your lips are pursed and your nose is all scrunched up. That’s what you look like when you eat a lemon.”

“You spend too much time with me if you know what I look like then.”

Mary Margaret laughs next to her and takes another sip of the never-ending wine. “You have lived with me for six years. I pick up on things.”

Emma hums and taps her fingers against the bar top. Does she want another drink? Does she want to go dance? Does she want to go home?

Does she want to walk over to the guy who has been staring at her for the past ten minutes?

No, she reminds herself, no she does not.

That was a one-time thing, and she meant it when she said it as she was walking out his apartment door.

But then he walked into this bar fifteen minutes ago in the same pair of tight black jeans and a gray t-shirt, his hair very obviously carefully styled, and she got a small glance of his smile in the darkness of the bar.

Damn.

But no. She doesn’t do more than one-night. Not anymore, and he can look all she wants, she’s not going over there.

She’s not here for that anyways. It’s a Friday, she had a stressful week at work, and she just wanted to get a drink or two with her friends.

Ruby, however, has gone off, and they probably won’t be seeing her again until she sends them the information of the person she’s going home with.

“I will try not to look like I ate a lemon,” Emma promises with a smile. “Do you know where Ruby is?”

“She’s actually with Whale.”

“No,” Emma gasps, spinning around to scan the crowd. “Whale is here? And she’s with him? We’re letting her be with him? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I figured we’d let her have her fun for one night.”

Emma turns back around to gape at Mary Margaret. “Are you okay? Do you have a fever? Did David break up with you so you’ve lost your mind? What’s happening?”

She giggles and shrugs her shoulders. “I think David is going to propose. He – ”

“Another whiskey sour for you,” the bartender says, sliding a drink in front of her.“Oh, I didn’t order this.”

The guy nods his head toward the other end of the bar. “Jones sent it to you. I can tell him to fuck off if you want. There was something about it being a one-time thing, too, but I forgot.”

Jones.

Jones knows the bartender at her favorite bar. Great. That’s just great.

“Thanks,” Emma finally mumbles. “You don’t have to tell him to fuck off.”

“Damn. I was really hoping I got to do that.”

Emma laughs. Oh, she likes this new bartender. “Tell you what, you can tell him to fuck off. I’m not sending him a drink, though.”

He whistles. “You’re making my dreams come true tonight, lass.”

And then he’s walking away, and she’s left with an absolutely beaming Mary Margaret. “So,” Emma quickly says, “what makes you think he’s going to propose?”

She’s waved away. “Who sent you the drink?”

“No one.”

“It was obviously someone. Who was it?”

“You’ll be mad at me if I tell you.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret sighs, “a one-night stand?”

“Ruby is going to go home with Victor and you’re judging me for having a one-night stand?”

“I’m not judging. I would never judge. I’m simply trying to say that there’s nothing wrong with finding a genuine connection. It’s a great thing.”

Emma takes a sip of her new drink. “So, David? Proposing? Let’s talk about that.”

-/-

She sleeps with the guy again.

She doesn’t know how it happened, not really. One minute she’s talking to Mary Margaret about the possibility of David proposing, and then the next, Jones is somehow sitting next to her talking to them both. He knows David, apparently, and Emma thinks that just her luck.

She doesn’t need to know anything about him.

The only things she needs to know is that she’s attracted to him and that he’s not a serial killer.

Both are true.

At least, she hopes.

Because she went home with him again, but really, it’s going to be the last time.

One night. That’s the limit.

Even if it was two in this case.

-/-

David proposes to Mary Margaret two weeks later.

Emma gets to witness it all from her spot behind a tree where she’s holding a camera and document everything. She completely and totally feels like she’s going to get arrested for being a creep, but she doesn’t.

Instead she gets to watch two of her best friends get engaged. It’s not something she’s interested in, but the two of them deserve something like that.

She’s happy. For them at least.

Good people should have good things.

-/-

There’s a party at their apartment immediately afterward.

And because the world is out to get her, Killian Jones is there.

She lives in a city with millions of people, and yet this guy keeps showing up.

How is that possible?

Emma knows too much about him now, too. She knows his full name and that he’s a cop. She knows his preferred drink and that he’s friends with the new bartender, Will, because they live together.

It’s too much already.

“Swan,” he greets, sliding into her space so she gets a whiff of familiar cologne.

Great. She knows the cologne he wears now, too.

“Jones.”

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Well, it is my apartment.”

Killian clicks his tongue. “I know.”

Heat rushes to her face, but she wills it away. This is not a man who she will let herself be bothered by even if he is constantly doing his best to bother her.

“How is it that I’d never heard of you before, love? You and David are obviously close, and he’s always telling stories. Why is the great Emma Swan a mystery?”

Emma turns to look at him and those stupid blue eyes she was so mesmerized by the first night. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would.”

And, really, the decisions she makes that night shouldn’t surprise her, not with the decisions she’s been making lately. Work has been stressful. She’s been looking for this guy for close to three months now, and she can’t find him. it would cover rent and bills and this new pair of boots she’s been looking at with money left over. Plus, she saw Neal last week. He was sitting in Granny’s with whoever he’s dating now, and she really did not need that when all she wanted was some onion rings.

So maybe it’s easier for her to keep falling back into bed with this guy she doesn’t know but knows well enough to know that he knows exactly how to push her to the edge with deft movements and careful words that send shivers down her spine.

And maybe, just maybe, if she doesn’t think about it too much, it won’t be a problem.

-/-

It’s a problem.

Emma’s been casually sleeping with Killian Jones for a month now.

It’s great. It really is. It’s fun and takes her mind off things, and God, it’s so damn good that sometimes she doesn’t believe it’s real. But it’s also too much because when she’s out celebrating finally finding her bounty, he’s there at the bar. He buys her drinks and dances with her, and she finds herself flirting with him more than someone who doesn’t care should.

He’s funny. There’s something about the way that he times his jokes and how they range between ridiculous and incredibly sexy, and Emma lets herself get lost in them so that she barely notices him mentioning that he has a brother or that he spent the formative of his life in England, which explains the accent that slips in and out. Mostly in, though, and she stupidly asks him questions about those years and about England and if everyone really does eat fish and chips all the time.

Killian asks her questions, too, ones about her job and her friends, and those she can answer. When it veers into talking about her family, she evades that by pressing up on her toes and sliding her lips over his, feeling the softness of his mouth mix with the rough scratch of his beard. This is easier, better, and really, they all have their pasts and their secrets. Neither of them needs to know when they don’t care if the other one is still in the apartment when they wake up the next morning.

-/-

Killian is making breakfast.

Emma can’t say anything about it, not when they’re in his apartment and not when she was the one who fell asleep before she could go home. And she especially cannot complain when, well, he’s making French toast, eggs, and bacon, and it’s been forever since she’s had a breakfast that was more than a protein shake or a smoothie as she was walking out her front door.

He makes some damn good French toast.

And it’s raining outside, some kind of awful September storm, and really, Emma could go home. She could borrow an umbrella or a rain jacket and rush out into the rain to pay a ridiculous amount for an Uber since the subway seems incredibly unappealing right now, but as the food settles in her stomach, the coffee warmly makes its way down her throat, and Killian puts Netflix on the TV, suddenly getting soaked to get home doesn’t seem appealing.

Plus, the blanket on the couch is made of the softest material she’s ever felt, Killian’s fingers are playing with the hair at the nape of her neck, which is pretty much her weakness, and she’s far too invested in this show to leave.

She has to find out what happens, obviously.

And one rainy day where Will is at Belle’s place so they’re alone and where she gets Chinese takeout for lunch at 6 PM can’t be that bad.

It’s just one day.

An anomaly in their relationship.

(Or lack of relationship, really.)

A one-time thing.

She won’t spend the night again, and she certainly won’t spend the day.

-/-

Killian has an entire stack of t-shirts in a drawer in her apartment, and Emma has absolutely no idea how that happened.

Well, no, okay.

She does.

She wore one home one time, some old thing that he got at a concert, and then a few weeks ago her shirt ripped in what Killian swears was an accidental result of him being a little too enthusiastic so she wore home a t-shirt from the Police Academy. But the others, he left here. She has never worn them. She would remember.

These are definitely shirts that he left here.

Because he’s stayed here.

Multiple times.

On accident, of course. Because it was too late to go home or the weather was bad again or because her apartment is closer to the police station than his is.

And sometimes he’ll get caught up talking to Mary Margaret when he’s trying to leave, but more often than not, David is here and they end up talking or drinking together as they joke about coworkers and their Captain and plan out David’s bachelor party which is apparently going to be a joint thing with Mary Margaret’s bachelorette party.

That was information to her.

While Killian isn’t David’s best man or anything, he ends up planning most of it with Emma since David’s brother is currently in California. And Killian helping to plan means that he is working with Emma on it, and that means that they get lunch and go to different bars for research purposes and spend far too much time looking for AIRBNB’s in different cities even though they know that will never happen because no one’s schedule ever matches up quite right.

They both decide there will be absolutely no gummies in the form of genitals, but that’s only after spending an entire night laughing after researching it and seeing all of the ridiculous things that people do.

But this is just for the wedding and for their friends. It won’t always be this way. It’ll be over, and then, well, they probably will be too.

-/-

Emma doesn’t bring a date to the wedding.

Killian doesn’t either.

Somewhere deep down in a place she’s not eager to explore, her heart and her stomach calm when she discovers that he’s here alone and that the only person he dances with all night is her.

“You know, I’m not really one for slow dancing,” she sighs as he takes her hand in his. “I don’t know how to do anything other than sway.”

His fingers tighten around hers while his other hand settles on her hip, warm and familiar and just right. “It’s easy, Swan. All you have to do is pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

“And that’s you?”

“Aye, love,” he smiles, lines forming around his eyes, “that’s me.”

They go home together that night.

Emma’s apartment is empty with David and Mary Margaret staying in a hotel before flying to Italy the next day, and Emma doesn’t even question when she and Killian share a cab back to her place. She doesn’t question when she kicks off her heels and he takes of his bowtie, leaving his shirt unbuttoned enough to show off dark patches of chest hair, so that they can stand in the kitchen eating cake they brought home while sharing a bottle of wine. Neither of them really got a chance to get more than a glass of champagne at the wedding, so while she’s pleasantly buzzed, she could easily sober up in an hour or two.

But in an hour or two, she’s sitting on her couch, her feet in Killian’s lap, and they’re talking about their exes. She doesn’t know how they got here. She doesn’t know what started the conversation, how it led to her hearing about how his first love died in an accident or her telling him an abridged version of all of the nasty, horrible ways Neal broke her.

She never needed to know about his exes.

She never needed to know about his past and all his scars.

He never needed to know about any of hers.

But now he does.

And now, somehow, she wants to know all of these things about him.

Now, somehow, she realizes that she already does know so much about him.

Emma knows the big things like what his family is like and stories from his childhood. She knows his romantic history and what he does for a living and why he decided to do that. She knows his goal to become a detective, and she knows that he’s constantly terrified of never being good enough.

She gets that. She feels the same way all the time.

Almost every day, really.

Though, if she really thinks about it, she’s never felt like she was never enough for Killian. Something about him makes it all feel comfortable in a way that she’s never felt before.

Emma has never been a woman who knows what true comfort with another person feels like, but maybe, just maybe, this is somehow it.

And maybe that’s because she knows the little things, too.

She knows how he likes his coffee in the same way that he knows how she likes hers. She knows how he eats his steak and how he doesn’t like onion rings, which she thinks is ridiculous. She knows that Killian always has on matching socks because he purposely only buys one type, and she knows that he gets his hair cut every four weeks without fail.

He always wears the socks when walking around at home, and she knows how his footsteps sound in different parts of her apartment as well as his.

Killian’s an early riser, almost always, and he’s ridiculously addicted to keeping up with his workout routine, which she absolutely hates. She takes care of herself, but she’s also someone who knows how to be lazy when the opportunity presents itself.

Killian Jones is very rarely lazy.

Except for sometimes at night when he watches videos on his phone or grabs one of the many books on his nightstand to read. He’s into mysteries and biographies of historical figures, and while Emma doesn’t think she’d ever be interested in any of his books, she listens when he talks and grumbles and complains about how something is going while she does research for work or quietly watches TV to not disturb him.

Disturbing him is a hard thing to do, but Emma does manage to do it. He says that she thrashes in bed and that her electric toothbrush is the loudest thing he’s ever heard, but that doesn’t keep him from getting her an extra one to keep at his place along with her preferred shampoo and conditioner.

She had to use his one time, and as much as she likes how Killian smells, she doesn’t want to smell like him. She had texted complaining about that, and the next time she was at his place, all of her things were there.

Emma didn’t even have to tell him what brands she uses,

The sound of his laugh is so familiar to her that she knows the different ones. There’s the one that’s small and frail, like he’s only laughing to be polite, and then another one where it’s fueled by disbelief and anger.

(She’s been on the receiving end of that a few times when they’ve argued.)

There’s the big laugh, that one that stems from his belly and makes his whole body shake with joy. It’s loud and kind of obnoxious, but Emma kind of loves it.

The one she loves most of all, however, is this gentle one that he shares with her when they’re in bed and the lights are turned off, all of the curtains closed, and blankets pulled up around them. He always looks so young then, like he’s twenty instead of thirty-two, and his smile is soft and kind and filled with a genuine joy that she keeps seeing more and more.

That laugh, this one that she only hears when her nose is brushing against his and his hand is drawing patterns on her bare back, is her favorite.

It’s the one she knows most of all.

It’s just for her, she tells herself, and well, she doesn’t intend on sharing.

Because she loves him.

The realization knocks her off her feet and sucker punches the air out of her lungs. She’s angry and pissed off at herself for letting it happen and so damn terrified of the feeling that she doesn’t know what to do with herself or her limbs or anything else. She doesn’t know what to do. She wants to grab her things and run, to cut off whatever this thing between them is, but the thought of that happening is a pain far worse than the realization that she loves someone again.

So Emma stays. She stays, and she keeps her life just the same. The thing is, it has changed so remarkably in the past eight months that she barely recognizes it. That’s not a bad thing, she realizes. It’s actually really, really good.

That realization doesn’t happen without several bottles of alcohol and Mary Margaret and Ruby having to calm her down and talk her up several different times when she starts to freak out. She needs all of that, needs that reassurance, and there are so many moments where she wonders when this is all going to end.

But then there’s that laugh, that one that’s just for her, and everything around her calms so that it’s just Emma and Killian and nothing and no one else.

Just her.

Just him.

Just them.

And somewhere down the line, years after that first night and the promises of it only being a one-time thing, Emma knows that she has never told a bigger lie in her life.

Because a one-time thing turned into absolutely everything.

[captcas]

Being with her was like sitting outside by the sea at sunset. I don't think I need to say more.

— Jonathan Carroll

[aprilqueen84]

When You Least Expect It (13/13) Part 2

A/N: Well here it is. The last official chapter of my first ever MC (there will be a short epilogue coming soon). I want to thank everyone who has followed me on this journey. Thank you for all the comments, likes and reblog’s I have loved them all and they have kept me going. Once again I have to thank @hollyethecurious​ for being my amazing beta and looking over my stories and I hope that you all enjoy the end of this story. 

Tag List:  @hollyethecurious​, @resident-of-storybrooke​, @kmomof4​, @jennjenn615​, @nikkiemms​, @kingofmyheart14​, @xemmaloveskillianx​, @angellifedeath​, @facesiousbutton82​, @a-faekindagirl​, @kymbersmith-90​, @winterbaby89​, @ekr032-blog-blog​, @laschatzi​, @teamhook​, @ilovemesomekillianjones​, @capswantrue​, @bmbbcs4evr​, @kday426​, @tiganasummertree​, @killianjonesownsmyheart1​, @Ifh1226-linda @met8​, @meganhinsley​, @capthamm​, @odonogosh​, @laurenlokirby​, @sals86​

If you want to catch up:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aprilqueen84

Summary: Killian and Emma had been wanting to start a family for a while now, but not had any luck. Soon they would learn that the best things happen when you least expect it. Except not everything is as it seems.

Chapter 13 Pt. 2 “The End”

When the smoke cleared Emma found herself strapped to a table. She immediately started to struggle, trying desperately to free herself.

“Emma.” A terrified voice made her suddenly stop in her attempts.

Turning her head, Emma saw that Amelia was strapped to the table next to her. The little girl was looking at her with eyes filled with tears and acceptance, knowing as well as Emma did that their chances of getting out of here were slim to none. 

Looking at Amelia all Emma could say was, “I’m so sorry.” 

A noise tore their eyes away from each other and to where Gothel was standing over a large cauldron, throwing various ingredients into it. Behind her on a shelf were several jars, each with a different colored light floating inside. Emma immediately knew what they were, the magic from the other children that Gothel had taken. 

She must have sensed that she was being watched and lifted her head to look at them. “It’s time,” she said in a quiet, almost calm voice.

When she began to walk toward them, Emma saw that her hand was glowing bright red and knew in that moment exactly how she and Amelia were going to die, by having their magic and lifeforce ripped from their bodies. 

Emma's heart hammered like a bass drum as she watched Gothel start towards Amelia first. "No!" Gothel stopped in her tracks and faced her. "Take my magic first. I'm the Savior, my powers are stronger. I won't fight you," Emma begged, knowing that while she had failed to keep the little girl safe, she could at least postpone Amelia's torment for a little while longer. 

Gothel seemed to think about it for several seconds before changing direction toward Emma. When she was finally standing over her the witch looked down at Emma with triumph on her face. 

“I told you that you wouldn’t win. You should have just handed the brat over to me and none of this would have happened.”

Emma scoffed. “Please, you still would have tried to kill me.” 

“True, but it would have quick. I intend to make you suffer, and I really am going to enjoy myself while I do it,” Gothel sneered.

Emma closed her eyes as Gothel started to raise her glowing red hand toward her. She began thinking of her family. How she never got to say goodbye to her parents and Henry, or her wonderful, loving husband, her true love.

“I’m so sorry, Killian. I love you,” she whispered as she waited for the end to come. 

Except it never came. A gasp of disbelief had her snapping her eyes open and what Emma saw shocked her. A bright white light was hovering around her, preventing Gothel from penetrating it. 

“No! How is this possible!” Gothel said in outrage as she tried again only to be jolted back by the strange light once more.

Emma had no idea what was happening, but she knew it started with thoughts about her family. So she focused on the way her mother always included her favorite dishes at Sunday family dinners, or how her dad always cradled the back of her head when he hugged her and her sweet Henry, who had such a positive outlook on everything and who made you want to be a better person. And Killian, who came into her life when she believed herself unlovable and never gave up on her, who broke down her walls to become the love of her life.

Suddenly Emma felt a pulse of energy burst from within her. The straps that had held her down and the cuff around her wrist instantly vanished. She immediately jumped from the table to find that the pulse of energy had knocked Gothel out.

“Emma!” Amelia called out from the other table.

Emma turned to see that Amelia had also been released from her bounds. “Amelia!” she exclaimed as the little girl rushed toward her and immediately wrapped her arms around her. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Amelia said as she pulled back from the embrace. “How did you do that, Emma?” Before Emma could respond, she saw Gothel start to struggle to her feet. Pushing Amelia behind her, she braced herself for whatever the witch did next.

When Gothel turned around, Emma was ready for the magic that shot her way from the witches hand. Their magic met in the middle, both fighting for the upper hand. 

“You’ll have to kill me, Emma, because I will never give up. No matter what you do to me, or where you send me, I will always come back until I have what’s mine,” Gothel said menacingly.

Emma knew she was telling the truth, knew that Gothel would never stop being a threat to her family. Almost as soon as the thought left her head Emma felt the same pulse of energy form earlier swell from within her. She felt the energy start to fuse with her magic, amplifying it, making it stronger.

Gothel noticed the chance right away. Fear immediately began to cross her features as she felt the intense magic begin to weaken hers. 

“How are you doing this?” she said, struggling to hold her own.

Emma started to move forward, the light encasing the dark with every step she took until she was toe-to-toe with Gothel, looking her right in the eyes.

“Try coming back from this." closing her eyes, Emma concentrated with everything she had until she began to feel the magic wash completely over her from head to toe and then burst from her.

Gothel began to scream as the powerful white magic started to wrap around her like a cocoon. “No! This isn’t how it was supposed to happen!” she cried out in despair as she tried to blast her way out of it.

Emma watched as the magic continued to surround her until Gothel stopped moving. She started to approach the immobilized witch with her hands still raised when suddenly her eyes widened in astonishment as a blinding light started to emanate from within the tomb-like structure. Emma quickly turned and grabbed Amelia, taking cover behind one of the tables to shield themselves as the light continued to grow brighter and brighter until the capsule finally exploded into a thousand pieces.

When the dust settled Emma opened her eyes to find Amelia looking up at her. 

“Emma. What happened?”

She shook her head at the little girl. “I don’t know, baby.” They slowly stood up to find nothing left of either the capsule or Gothel.

“Is she gone?” Amelia asked with a small wobble in her voice.

Emma looked down at Amelia, realizing that after all these years the little girl was finally free of constantly having to look over her shoulder  wondering if Gothel was going to find her. She crouched down and put her hands on Amelia’s arms. “Yes. Yes, she is.”

The little girl’s face lit up and she threw herself into Emma’s arms. “Thank you,” Amelia whispered into the crook of her neck. 

They stayed like that for several minutes, both just happy to be safe and alive when they suddenly heard noises coming from the tunnels. Startled Emma rose to her feet and put an arm around Amelia, quickly moving her over to a spot along the wall of the cave hidden from view. 

“Stay here and don’t come out until I call for you.” Emma turned back toward the tunnel opening, wondering if maybe Gothel had a contingency plan in case of her demise. “Who’s there!?”

“Emma!” A very familiar, deep accented voice called out.

“Killian!” Emma yelled, hurrying toward the opening of the tunnel where her husband's voice was coming from. 

Their eyes locked at the same time. Nothing else mattered, only getting to each other as soon as possible. They crashed into one another, their lips meeting in desperation from thinking that they were never going to see each other again.

When they pulled away from each other Killian brought his hand up to rest against her cheek. “Are you alright Swan?” he asked as he began to look around urgently. “Where’s Amelia?”

Emma reached up and took his hand in hers. “Yes. We’re fine,” she reassured him, as she looked over her shoulder. “Amelia. It’s okay to come out now.”

Peeking her head out, the little girl's eyes lit up. “Killian!” she cried out happily as she began to run over to him

Killian bent down to catch and lift her up into his arms. “Oh! I’m so glad that you're okay, little lass,” he crooned softly as he held her tight. He turned back to Emma with a perplexed look on his face. “Swan, what happened? Where’s Gothel?

Before Emma could respond, she heard several more voices coming from the tunnel, then a second later her parents and Regina came into view. “Mom! Dad!” she said joyfully, running to embrace her parents.

“Oh, Emma! We were so worried! Are you okay?” Snow asked, concerned.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Emma looked around and noticed that someone was missing. “Where’s Henry?” she asked.

“He stayed back at the convent, rather reluctantly I might say,” Regina informed her. 

“Okay good,” Emma sighed with relief. “How did you all find us?”

“It was Silver, love,” Killian stated as he made his way over to them, Amelia now standing beside him, holding on to his hook. “She left a message telling us she brewed a potion that would help us find this place,” he finished.

Emma still didn’t know how she felt about the deceased fairy. On the one hand, Silver had been in league with Gothel, but she had also given her life while trying to save Amelia and herself.

“Swan?” Killian’s voice broke through her musings.

Emma looked up into his questioning gaze. “It’s nothing, Silver...” she paused, giving him a knowing gaze, not wanting to upset Amelia with the memory of what happened. “Anyway,” she said before turning to her parents, “Mom. Dad. I want you to meet somebody. This is Amelia.”” She held her hand out for the little girl to take and brought her over to them. “Amelia, sweetheart, these are my parents, David and Snow.”

David stepped forward and bent down to greet her. “Hello, Amelia. It’s very nice to meet you.”

The little girl gazed up at them and smiled shyly. “Hi.”

“Emma, I’m sorry to interrupt but what happened with Gothel,” Blue asked as she approached the group.

“Gothel’s gone.” 

Emma  proceeded to tell them everything that had happened. From when she talked to Gothel at the hospital, to waking up imprisoned, to Silver trying to rescue them, then finally the battle with Gothel and the strange magic that had helped her defeat the witch. After she was done she took in everyone’s reactions. Her parents looked stricken, while listening to how close they had come to losing their daughter, while Killian had taken her and held it in a vice like grip. When she glanced up at him, Emma saw  his jaw was clenched with quiet rage. She could only imagine what was going on inside his head, so Emma brought her other hand up and stroked his arm lovingly.

Killian calmed instantly at the gentle touch of his wife. Just hearing about what Emma and Amelia had been through made him want to resurrect that bloody witch just so he could have the pleasure of killing her again. Taking a deep breath to quell those thoughts he then turned to Emma and gave her a grateful smile. 

“Emma. Do you have any idea what the magic was?” Blue asked her.

Emma shook her head. “No. All I know is that it wasn’t coming from me.”

Killian cocked his head. “What do you mean love?”

“Gothel used the cuffs on us, so I couldn’t use my magic and neither could Amelia. It also felt entirely different from my own magic, plus once Gothel was defeated it went away,” Emma explained.

Regina stepped forward then with an incredulous look on her face. “So, what you're saying is this magic just came out of nowhere, helped you do that,” she paused and pointed at the dust on the floor that indicated all that was left of the witch, “to Gothel and then just disappeared.”

“Yeah, that is exactly what I’m saying. Listen to be honest, right now I really don’t care where it came from. I’m just glad that this is over with.” Emma looked up at Killian. “Can we please go home now?”

“Of course, love.” Killian bent down to once again pick Amelia up then put an arm around Emma. “Let’s get out of here.”

The group (minus Blue, who had stayed behind to take care of the jars of magic) made their way through the tunnels and out of the catacombs. They emerged into a wooded area that Emma instantly recognized. 

“The Apprentices Mansion?” she asked, turning to see that the entrance to Gothel’s hideout had been directly beneath the grand house.

“Yes. We were just as surprised. My guess is that Gothel was drawn here because this place still has some strong magic associated with it,” Regina stated.

Emma remembered all too well the kind of magic that resided in the mansion. Shaking her head to clear the unpleasant memories she turned to Regina. “Will you bring Henry back to the house for me?”

Regina nodded. “Yes. Of course.”

“Thank you,” Emma said gratefully, turning to her parents she gave them a knowing look, trying to convey everything she couldn’t voice out loud. When they both gave her a nod of understanding she reached for Killian, who was still holding a now sleeping Amelia, and the three of them disappeared in a plume of white smoke. As soon as they reappeared inside their house, Killian stepped away to lay the little girl down on the sofa. 

Emma watched her husband for several minutes as he stood there silently before walking over to him and gently placed a hand on his arm. 

“Killian?” she whispered. When he turned to look at her, Emma was taken aback to see tears running down his face. “What is it?” she asked concerned.

“I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you,” Killian said, his voice trembling.

Emma reached up and tenderly cupped his face. “Oh, Killian. I know exactly what you were going through. When I was down there, I thought I was never going to see you again, never get to hold you in my arms and.. " she stopped. Her voice cracking as she started thinking about what had almost happened down in the catacombs.

Killian wrapped his arms around Emma and held her close. They stood there in each other’s embrace for what seemed like an eternity until the sound of the front door broke them apart. They looked up just as Henry came into view.

“Mom!” Henry called out as he rushed over to her and threw his arms around her. “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

Emma closed her eyes as she held him tight. “Oh, Henry. I’m alright,” she reassured him as she pulled back.

“And Amelia?” Henry asked, equally concerned about the little girl who he had come to care for deeply.

“She’s fine. See,” Emma said, moving aside to show him the sleeping girl on the sofa.

Henry’s shoulders slumped with relief. When his mom and grandparents showed back up at the convent alone, he'd feared the worst. Not even their reassurances that Killian, Emma, and Amelia were okay could calm him down. He needed to see for himself that they were fine, and immediately asked Regina to bring him back to the house. “I was so scared, Mom.”

Emma reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “I know, Henry. I was too, but Gothel is gone and we’re all safe and together now.”

“Aye, my boy, your mother is right. Everything is going to be alright now that we are all back together,” Killian stated, joining in to try and calm his son’s nerves.

Before Henry could respond, a noise drew their attention to the sofa where Amelia was starting to wake up. The little girl blinked in confusion at first, unsure of where she was until her eyes landed on the three of them and a smile immediately spread across her face. 

“Henry!” Amelia shouted happily as she leaped from the sofa and ran over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Hey! I’m happy to see you too!” Henry said, beaming down at her. He crouched down so he could be eye level with her. “You okay, squirt?” he asked with affection.

Amelia nodded her head. “Yep. Emma saved us. She’s a hero,” the little girl replied, looking up in awe at the woman who finally freed her from the fear that one day, somehow,  Gothel would find her.

“That she is little love, that she is,” Killian agreed, giving his wife a proud smile.

Emma could feel herself begin to blush at all the praise being thrown her way. She looked to change the subject and found the perfect way out when her stomach started growling. 

“Um… anyone else hungry?” she asked, realizing that they all probably hadn’t eaten since that morning.

A series of Yeses rang out, and the four of them made their way to the kitchen. Not wanting to wait too long, they all decided on grilled cheese and soup. As they all sat down to eat, Emma looked around the table and once again realized how close she had come to losing everything. Suddenly ,a gentle hand lay upon hers and she found Killian’s gaze on her. He gave her a knowing smile and brought her hand up to place a kiss on her knuckles.

After they were finished eating, everyone could feel the day start to catch up with them and they decided to call it a night. Henry went first, climbing the stairs tiredly after one last hug from his parents. Next, Emma took Amelia upstairs to get cleaned up while Killian locked the house up.

 After she helped Amelia out of the bath and brought her to the spare room, Emma realized the little girl still didn’t have any clothes of her own, so she quickly ran to grab an old shirt for her to wear.

As soon as Emma got Amelia into bed the little girl was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She sat there for several minutes just watching her sleep until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Glancing up, she saw Killian standing behind her and she reached up to place her hand on top of his, holding on to it like a lifeline. 

“She barely made it to bed, started falling asleep as I was brushing her hair,” she told him.

“Poor lass. She’s been through so much, yet stayed so strong during it all,” Killian responded as he grasped her and pulled her to her feet. “Come on love, let’s go to bed.” 

Emma didn’t have the energy to drag herself into the shower, and decided that could wait until morning. As she was changing into her pajamas, Emma said something to Killian that had the potential to change their lives forever. 

“We still need to go to the convent and get Amelia’s things. The poor girl has been wearing the same thing for two days straight.” When she didn’t get a response she turned to see Killian looking at her in surprise. “What is it?” she asked in confusion.

“You want Amelia to come stay with us,” Killian asked, hoping she was saying what he thought she was saying.

Emma looked at him in bewilderment. “Well. Yeah. We said that we wanted her to. Remember?’

Killian walked over to where she was standing by the dresser. “Aye, love. I do. I thought it was just going to be until Gothel was taken care of, though.” He stepped closer and placed his hand and hook on her arms. “Are you saying that you want her to live with us permanently?”

Emma stared into his eyes, searching until she found what she was looking for. “Yes,” she said smiling at him.

Killian returned her smile and surged forward to catch her lips in a passionate kiss. When they pulled back he couldn’t contain his excitement. “Oh, Swan! I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”

Emma giggled at his excitement, barely able to contain her own. "I know we haven’t talked about it, but I’ve fallen in love with Amelia and I want her to be part of our family.”

Killian reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Emma, I feel the exact same way. I’ve felt this connection to her since the first moment we met her and I think she was always meant to be with us,” he said with conviction.

Emma gazed lovingly into his eyes, tears pooling in her own. “We are going to have a daughter.”

Killian let out an amazed chuckle. "Yeah. We are.” He stopped when he noticed Emma starting to sway on her feet. Realizing she was exhausted, he gently steered her to the bed. “But first you need to get some sleep, love.”

When they climbed into bed, with their arms wrapped around one another, they both fell asleep thinking about how much their lives were about to change, and knew that they would be able to overcome anything as long they had each other. 

THE END. 

[captcas]

BETA’S FIRST FIC 🥺💖👏

"Dean and Cas take Jack on a routine run to a local Walmart, which had recently reopened after some renovations. What they didn't expect was the Build-A-Bear newly opened at the entrance to the Walmart."

My first fic is a fluffy Destiel one-shot, set after 15x18, but Jack is a kid, Cas is back from the Empty and Dean isn't dead.

[lassluna]

Fanfic asks: 6. What’s the last thing you read that made you laugh?

I literally just read this cute thing:  Don’t Forget the Milk by @capthamm and it made me giggle. 

[captcas]

Too Many Minutes

Rolling onto her side, she grabs her phone out of habit. There’s a spark of hope settled deep in her chest before she opens it to a screen empty of notifications beyond a few spam emails. Why would he greet her with his usual good morning? It’s not going to be a good morning… she hasn’t had a good morning in three weeks.

Three weeks, four days, and twelve hours. read on ao3

If it weren’t for the pounding in her head and uncomfortably dry tears on her cheeks, Emma would’ve thought this was all just a bad dream.

“It’s not the fact that you’re scared, Emma… I– you know I understand being scared. It’s that– it’s just so easy for you to– you’d rather give into that fear than fight it together. I thought we were stronger than that.”

She hates when he calls her Emma.

Rolling onto her side, she grabs her phone out of habit. There’s a spark of hope settled deep in her chest before she opens it to a screen empty of notifications beyond a few spam emails. Why would he greet her with his usual good morning? It’s not going to be a good morning… she hasn’t had a good morning in three weeks.

Three weeks, four days, and twelve hours.

Her body shifts into the autopilot she’s relied on since he walked out the door. She starts crying again, this time the tears collecting at her feet with the hot water from her shower. Logically, she knows she can’t see the individual tears, but as they go down the drain with the rest of the water she can’t help but feel it’s a metaphor.

A really shitty metaphor.

This is her new routine, wake up, check her phone, cry in the shower, head to work, and spend every waking moment reliving that night until she falls back asleep from utter exhaustion. Her friends don’t even know they broke up– if they did Emma surely would have more than spam emails to delete each morning. Killian must be leaving that up to her; she broke it, it’s only fair she has to pick up the pieces.

Sometimes the anger sets in. He promised he wouldn’t walk out, he said he’d be there, he promised it was them against the world— maybe doubting a promise is the easiest way to break it.

Emma walks into the kitchen to grab some coffee before heading into the center– their center. When she started at the Boston Youth Community Center, she didn’t intend to fall in love with the cheeky, handsome outdoor rec coordinator. She also didn’t intend on them working together so well that, when Marco retired, they were an obvious fit for co-directors.

That seemed like a good idea at the time.

He took the first week off, but then moved offices without so much as a word to her. He’s now on the main floor with the kids instead of the office level next to her. Killian swore to the board it was to be more involved but Emma knows it was the furthest away he could get from her without quitting.

Killian isn’t a quitter.

Emma apparently is.

Unlocking her office door, his absence is felt just as much as the empty space in her bed. The office is littered with their memories, work and otherwise. She hasn't been able to bring herself to take down the picture frames– the action feeling too finite. It’d be the next step in making all of this real. At best, she’s been able to put one face down for a few hours before she misses his artificial presence and sets it upright again.

The picture next to her computer is of the day he proposed. Just them on the couch watching The Office when (in his words) the need to propose just came over him– he’d had the ring for months. Emma’s never agreed to something so quick– any and all hesitation completely trumped by overwhelming joy at being chosen by someone forever.

Now, it’s four months later and the stress of wedding planning and the reality of what forever actually means all bombarded her one day and she snapped.

Three weeks, four days, and fourteen hours ago.

She wonders to herself if Killian already packed all these memories away. He moved offices, and she supposes it’d be weird for him to put their photos back up…

Emma jumps at a knock on her door and quickly composes herself before rushing to answer it, “Sorry, yes, coming!” She wipes a stray tear from her cheek and turns the handle. She didn’t expect to find him standing there, “Killian?”

He looks just as awful as she does– and that’s saying something because handsome is an understatement when it comes to Killian. While Emma expected that to be comforting, it only makes her feel worse. They’ve always fed off one another, their codependency one of the few that even Mary Margaret, a trained psychiatrist, called healthy. Neither of them grew up with anyone they could depend on, not long enough to form any sort of healthy connection– not until each other.

“May I come in, please?” His voice startles her. After being alone with only the memory of it, she realizes it’s much more beautiful in person. She knew she missed it, but she didn’t realize how much.

Killian raises an eyebrow, something playful she didn’t expect, before walking into the office without the permission he asked for. He beelines for the photo on her desk, the one that caused her tears only moments before. He pauses for a moment before turning towards her, “You still have them up.”

The shocked tone of his voice feels like a dagger to her chest, the fact he thought she’d be able to move past them so quickly. “Uh, yeah. I–”

She’s not good with words so she leaves it at that. There are so many things she wants to say, apologies and explanations and confessions of love. For three weeks, four days, fourteen hours, and nine minutes she’s been rehearsing everything she should have said but the minute she’s presented with the opportunity she freezes.

Emma watches as he traces his thumb over the picture of them before she glances towards his eyes. He’s been crying, maybe not this minute but she knows that hint of red at the corner of his eye– the anniversary of Liam’s death hitting him harder each year that passes. At 34 this year, he officially turned a year older than his brother and there’s something about that fact which made everything monumentally harder and caused that flash of red to remain there for weeks. She swore to herself she’d never cause him that kind of pain.

More empty promises.

He glances over at her and Emma realizes she has no concept for how long they’ve been standing there or at what point she started to cry. A soft gasp escapes him when she bats a tear away with her left hand, “You’re still wearing your ring.”

He doesn’t question it, just states it like a fact he can’t believe.

“Because, more than anything, I’m still yours.” Emma isn’t sure where it came from, eloquent confessions of feelings and emotions typically reserved for Killian. She stumbles on the follow up, “If you— could you still want me… I mean–”

He stands there taking her in for what feels like an eternity. The regret and guilt Emma’s built up in her chest for three weeks threatening to escape through her tear ducts if she has to wait for his answer much longer.

She doesn’t.

Before she can turn away, he’s wrapping her in a deep kiss. A weight lifts and it feels like every light in the world turns on the moment they connect once more. Emma knows this isn’t a fix all, that after the initial high of being together again, there’s going to be long talks, and tearful battles, but if the last three weeks, four days, fourteen hours, and who the hell knows how many minutes have taught her anything, it’s that any life with Killian is better than even a day without him. They break from the kiss and Killian leaves another on her forehead. His hand absentmindedly finds hers and begins to play with the intricate diamond band on her finger.

“Killian, I–” He kisses her again, stopping her apology. She closes her eyes, willing the tears of relief to stay put as she leans into his prosthetic when he brushes some fallen hair from her face. As she feels his body shift in front of her, she opens her eyes to find him looking straight back at her.

“I know, Swan. Me too. But not here, alright? We’ll have plenty of time to talk, so for now I’d like to enjoy holding my fiance for the first time in three weeks.”

She loves when he calls her Swan.

Killian pulls her in for a tight hug and Emma’s auto-calculator seems to speak for her, “Three weeks, ten days, fourteen hours and–”

“And too many minutes, love.” He laughs as he finishes her sentence and Emma chokes out a giggle through her tears. She feels foolish for ever doubting that when Killian promised forever that he hadn’t thought of the implications– that he was anything like the people who left scars on her through her entire life.

They end up getting married the next day, a private celebration meant solely for them. It was Emma’s idea, her way of proving to Killian that she wasn’t going to run again. At first he was wary, big rash decisions not typically in his wheelhouse, but when she put on the wedding dress she’d picked out with Mary Margaret months before he’d even proposed, she saw a sort of understanding shift into his gaze. This is something they’ve both wanted for longer than they’ve been letting on— both too scared to make the move, to risk getting hurt again. Killian makes an appointment at the courthouse and they pay the extra $12 for a random witness from the courthouse staff. Afterwards, they met their friends at the bar like they do every Friday evening.

It only took one hour and thirty-three minutes for Mary Margaret to notice the ring on Killian’s right hand and another twelve minutes for her to convince them they needed to throw a big celebration.

Emma breathes a sigh of relief that night when she hears Killian’s soft breathing beside her for the second time in– well, too long. There’s such a fine line between want and need. For both of them, it just took a harsh reminder that when you realize want and need are one in the same, you better fight for it.

[let-it-raines]

hiya! just finished your fic Second in Command. It was spectacular! Going to tackle your rewrite of it next. I was wondering, could you reccomend any other CS multi chapters? Most of the ones I was following have finished so my well is dry!

Hi 👋  Thank you soooooo much!!!! I’m so glad you loved Second in Command and that you are going to make your way over to What a Wicked Game! That’s wonderful ❤️

I am not up to date on reading (you should see my drafts, lol) and don’t follow a lot of things, so I’ll give you a mix of oldies but goodies and some that are are currently posting!

-/-

My major multi-chapters besides SIC and WAWG: Betting on the Bullseye, Catch Me If You Can, Not Your (soul)Mate, and Rising from the Ashes. 

-/-

Some finished multi-chapters that are some of my personal favorites can be found on a rec list | here | 

-/-

Check out the @captainswanbigbang for several wonderful multi-chapters that are either still posting or just finished posting! You can also find YEARS worth of multi-chapters on that page and in their collection from big bangs of the past. 

-/-

Some currently posting MC are: 

Worth Fighting For by @capthamm ; The Convenient Groom by @searchingwardrobes ; Hold On To What We Are by @peglegsjones ; Between Heaven and Hell by @alexandralyman ; 

[captcas]

Worth Fighting For [12/?]

WORTH FIGHTING FOR by capthamm

Killian “Hook” Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma “The Savior” Swan’s career was cut short. When Hook’s manager moves up and the office brings in UFC’s youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it?

read on ao3 // tumblr: ch 1/ ch 2 / ch 3 / ch 4 / ch 5 / ch 6 / ch 7 / ch 8 / ch 9 / ch 10 / ch 11 [Chapter 12/?]

The three weeks between that and Killian’s fight flew at lightspeed. Between training (together), press conferences (together), and general life (also, together), Emma found herself spending almost every moment with Killian without really knowing what hit her.

He wove himself into her life with an ease she would’ve found scary if she wasn’t so damn happy.

After meeting, Killian and Henry begged to be together daily. It started with short bursts– lunch here, a trip to the park there– and eventually it became week long movie nights with the three of them cuddled up on the couch. Any thought she had of slowing things down was abruptly erased by Henry’s overall excitement just to be with Killian.

The night the two of them fell asleep together in Henry’s bed mid-bedtime story was the proverbial nail in the coffin.

That’s how she finds herself sitting outside the locker room killing time before Killian has to prep for weigh-ins. Henry was already in their seats, Ruby keeping an eye on him while he oogles at the stage being constructed. Emma has been able to mostly ignore the reality of tonight– and tomorrow night– by managing Killian’s social accounts and keeping Regina off her back. (Let’s just say her boss doesn’t know the full extent of their relationship and Emma would like to keep it that way at least until this weekend is over and not just because even she doesn’t know the full extent.)

Emma hears the announcer call for fighters to the locker rooms and it snaps her out of her own thoughts. 

Killian has to go. They– mostly Emma– have been dreading this night since the moment they found out it was Neal. It was only three weeks ago, but somehow everything has changed and it feels like a different lifetime. Killian must have resigned to his fate as well, “Duty calls, love.” He kisses her on the forehead and she leans into the contact. Emma nods but is reluctant to remove her arms from their comfortable spot on his hips. She’s about to wish him luck when he pulls a long silver chain from his pocket. Dangling from the end is a beautiful ring– rubies set with diamonds across a twisted silver band.

Oh shit.

“Whoa. Whoa, whoa, wh–”

He rolls his eyes, “Calm down, Swan. I’m not proposing.”

She nods with a tight smile, ignoring the rush of disappointment that floods her mind. It’s barely been a month, she should not be disappointed. He smirks, probably reading her like a book per usual, but continues anyway, “You know I’m good at surviving the octagon, yeah? Well, this ring is why. I’ve had it for many years, it’s the reason I’m alive. The reason I’m here today.”

“Killian–”

“I want you to have it this weekend. Keep a piece of me with you. Tomorrow may be a bloody awful night for me but I can’t imagine the war raging behind those beautiful eyes of yours, love.” He brushes a small piece of hair off the apple of her cheek before placing the ring carefully in her hand. She clutches it tightly before pressing up on her toes to place a gentle kiss against his lips.

“Thank you.”

He smiles, something bright and happy that reaches his eyes but is reserved for her, “Don’t mention it, Swan. I’ve got all the luck I need right here.” He squeezes her waist, eliciting a small giggle as he focuses in on a slight ticklish spot. Killian kisses her temple once more before they finally part.

“Go get him, Jones.” She can’t help the grin that spreads across her face despite the potential danger Killian is walking into.

He turns back to respond, “Aye, love. Tomorrow night, that’s the plan. It’s only weigh-ins, what could go wrong?” With a wink and a smirk he heads into the locker room and Emma notices the ring still clutched tightly in her fist. Taking it gently, Emma places it over her neck, the weight of the ring heavy atop her chest.

It feels like a lifeline.

Emma takes a deep breath before cracking her neck and slipping into her very real position as Killian’s PR manager. Henry is here tonight, so despite her job, she figures she should check on him first– that is if he hasn’t already tried to come find her. As she walks out from behind the stage she bumps into someone solid. Nausea hits her like a freight train as a familiar scent takes over. The hands on her shoulders seer like fire and she looks up only on instinct.

She swears her blood runs cold at the sound of his voice, “Ems?”

Before she can react, another familiar voice cuts through blood rushing in her ears, “Mom?”

Emma can feel the indent of the ring carving itself into the palm of her hand as she realizes what’s about to happen. Maybe lifeline was an understatement? She reached for the ring instinctively as she realized the moment she had hoped would never come was hovering right in front of her.

She closes her eyes and hears Killian’s voice in her head, “ You can do this, Swan.”

Somehow that’s all the push she needs. Turning to Henry, she ignores the close proximity of his father. “Henry! You were supposed to wait by the seats.”

Her eyes never leave her son. “I was going to but Ruby said I could get popcorn and when I heard them call Hook back I figured you’d be coming out soon so I figured I’d wait for you.” He turns to Neal. “Oh my god, you’re The Fire !!!!”

Neal looks like he’s been tased. Emma pleads with him telepathically to ignore the fact that this is his unmistakably his son.

She never was good at telepathy.

“I am! And you must be Henry.” Neal smiles at him and then turns to Emma for confirmation– she nods slightly despite him barely deserving that. Henry’s eyes light up.

“Did Hook tell you about me?! Mom, do you know Neal Cassidy, too?!” Neal’s eyes turn from amusement to confusion before he turns to Emma.

“Hook?” The word sounds like poison as it cuts across the space between him and Emma.

Henry speaks before Emma can form an explanation, “Yeah! Killian is my mom’s client. She helps him run his Twitter and stuff. Does she do that for you too?”

Oh yeah, client, right.  

Neal gives her one more look before turning back to Henry, “Nope, not for me. Your mom and I are just old friends.” Acid. He sounds like he’s spitting acid. Emma has to choke back a scoff.

How did Emma ever fall for this shit?

“Oh, Killian and mom are friends too. He’s over pretty much every night. I think he likes me better though.” Emma can’t stop a smile from breaking out across her face. She grabs Henry and pulls him in for a hug.

“I think you’re right, kid.” Emma’s eyes meet Neal’s and he’s about to speak when a trainer comes up behind him and whisks him away. Something in his gaze tells her that this conversation isn’t over, but he says bye to Henry who waves before completely moving on to the veteran athletes he saw while waiting in the concession lines. Once he’s out of sight Emma takes a moment to focus her breathing— the cool temperature of Killian’s gift against her thumb effectively grounding her.

This ring really is a godsend– or maybe that’s just the man who gave it to her.

. . .

Killian is sitting in the middle of the sparring gym when he hears his moniker called by an unfamiliar voice. Whoever it is sounds angry. It’s weigh-ins so this level of hostility is usually a show for the cameras, but it’s also usually reserved for fighters who actually know each other.

“Killian Jones.” The use of his full name causes Killian to stand, coming face to face with Neal. He’s only seen him in photos and on tape, but he’d recognize him anywhere. Ice fills Killian’s veins before turning to white hot rage. He’s got half a mind to knock him flat on his arse but knows better than to fight outside the ring.

He opts for civility instead, “Ah, you must be Mr. Cassidy.” Killian squares with him, sizing him up. Despite his clearly trained stature, Killian knows Neal is a coward.

No man who gives up a boy like Henry could be anything less.

“Stay away from my son.”

That was not what Killian expected, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Neal is fired up for some reason or another. Killian can’t imagine why, unless– Emma .

Neal must’ve ran into Emma and Henry before coming back. Killian drops the niceties, “ Your son? I believe there’s a hefty packet of legal papers that says quite the opposite, mate.”  

He watches the rage fill up Neal’s face and his arm begin to form a fist. As Killian responds, Neal’s trainer is coming up behind him. “Not here, Cassidy. Save it for the octagon.”

As the trainer pulls Neal away, Killian doesn’t let the wash of relief exit in a sigh, but he feels it all the same. Neal turns to him once more,“We’ll settle this tomorrow, Jones. You don’t get to steal my life.”  He clearly has a compulsory need for having the last word.

Too bad so does Killian.

As Neal approaches the door separating their designated gyms, Killian calls out once more, “It’s not stealing when you give them up in the first place. Finders keepers, mate.” He winks as Neal crosses into the other room, his trainers keeping him pointed in the right direction.

That’s when Robin walks up behind Killian, “What the hell was that about? I thought you two didn’t even know each other.”

“A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets, Robin. It seems Mr. Cassidy is regretting his choice not to fight.” Killian turns to his best friend and finds only understanding in his eyes.

Robin claps his hand onto Killian’s shoulder, “Kick his ass, Jones.”

Nodding, Killian straps his gloves on. “My plan precisely, boss.”

...

@mariakov81 @kmomof4 @superchocovian @pirateherokillian @teamhook @bawley-bug @let-it-raines ​

[captcas]

this is... too much 🥺 thank you so so much. your manip is amazing! and i appreciate you not giving up! i promise I haven’t abandoned this world yet ❤️❤️ thank you!!!

Worth Fighting For  by:  capthamm

Summary: Killian “Hook” Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma “The Savior” Swan’s career was cut short. When Hook’s manager moves up and the office brings in UFC’s youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it? Captain Swan UFC (MMA Fighting) AU

Completed Chapters: 11 of ?

Last Updated: 9/22/2020

Unf…boxing Captain swan. Sweaty boxing Captain Swan. Yeah I don’t even dig boxing but I dig the hell out of this. Hot OTP is really hot. WIP.

Stacy’s Recommended Fics and Stuff

@capthamm @teamhook

[captcas]

Khristmas Karaoke

Khristmas Karaoke by capthamm

Their annual Khristmas Karaoke sheds light on relationships, old and new. read on ao3

“Come on, Killian… She does this all the time. Aren’t you better off without her at this point?” Emma slaps Neal’s arm at his shitty attempt to comfort their friend after Milah ended things… again. She won’t admit her boyfriend is 100 percent correct, because that’s not the point. Killian has alwayshad a thing for Milah no matter how awful she treated him and each time she ends things, Emma knows it breaks him a little more.

She keeps waiting for the time it breaks him entirely.

It’s their friends’ annual Khristmas Karaoke– Mary Margaret insisted on the alliteration– and Milah just didn’t show. It’s a big deal when someone invites a significant other, effectively indoctrinating them into their core group of four– David, Mary Margaret, Killian, and Emma. This is Neal’s second year, which really, truly only freaks Emma out a little (a lot), but it was supposed to be Milah’s first. Killian, Emma’s ever cautious best friend, refrained from inviting her last year, but when Emma said she was bringing Neal again, Killian jumped in immediately and said he was bringing Milah.

Milah chose tonight to tell Killian she didn’t want to see him anymore.

Figures.

With Milah, it was always about her and Emma is convinced Milah’s selfishness is the only reason she was still with Killian. He treated Milah like a queen without so much as a birthday wish in return. (Seriously, she forgot one year and Emma was left to pick up the pieces Killian so gallantly insisted were nonexistent, but Emma could tell– she can always tell with Killian.) Either way, Milah’s lack of interest in anything to do with Killian always made Emma uncomfortable. She wants more for her friend; knowing he deserves more than to be someone’s puppy dog.

But Emma would never say that to Killian. She looks over at him and he’s clearly sulking, so she does what any best friend would do, “Come on KJ, we’re singing.” He goes to protest but Emma grabs his arm before shouting her drink order to David who mock salutes. “Ok go pick something, I’m going to run to the bathroom.” Killian nods, still seemingly unwilling to play along but too nice to deny Emma anything. She shoves him towards the stage and heads towards the bathroom.

After freshening up, Emma heads back towards the stage only to run directly into another woman. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry!”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” The woman looks up and a flash of recognition crosses her face. Emma recognizes her too, but she can’t put her finger on it. They both wave awkwardly before Emma heads to the stage and the familiar woman heads into the bathroom.

Killian is standing next to the stage flipping through the song book when she approaches, “Anything look good?”

“Hmm?” Emma can tell he’s in a different universe and she figures now is as good as any to tell him how she really feels about his Milah .

“Killian, I know you loved her… or love her… whatever. But she keeps you on this retractable leash so she can use you when it’s convenient for her.” Killian doesn’t look at her but she knows he’s listening. “I’m not saying her being a shitty person makes this hurt less, but Neal asked to come tonight… just something to think about.”

It’s her last comment that makes Killian turn towards her, “So you love him then?”

Emma should know how to answer that– she and Neal have been together almost two years, it should be easy– but when Killian poses the question, the correct answer seems to fail her completely.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

It’s a non answer, and Killian knows it, but Emma doesn’t have time to unpack her sudden stumble when posed with what should’ve been an easy question. She’s told Neal she loves him hundreds of times... so, why can’t she say she loves him to others? Something in the back of her mind whispers it’s because Killian is the one asking, but she shoves it down. They’ve had their chance– maybe hundreds of chances– and the timing just… never lined up.

She’s so deep in thought, she almost misses Killian’s answer, “Aye, that he is.” He looks at her intently, maybe expecting her to elaborate, but Emma is coming up short. She doesn’t understand why she couldn’t give him a straight answer– in truth, she doesn’t want to admit why. Somewhere deep down Killian knows this, because Killian knows her . He concedes after a few moments of silence, turning back to the task at hand, “Let’s sing the Grinch.”

Emma smiles, memories of their yearly Grinch Binge, echoing through her mind. Mary Margaret and David can be… a lot. They are very in love and don’t mind showing it off, so ever since they finally got together, Emma and Killian sprouted a few traditions of their own. Neal never liked Christmas movies, no matter how hard Emma tried to get him to watch even the easy ones like Elf with her. Killian loves them– especially the Grinch. So every year, on the Saturday before Christmas, Emma and Killian hunker down and watch every version of the Grinch they can find. When the new one came out last year, they went and saw it in theaters before watching the rest of them. It’s silly, and some of the versions are old and awful, but it’s their thing and Emma looks forward to it every year.

As the first chord hits, Killian still seems to be in his head, so Emma starts, “ You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.” She accents the words by singing in the lowest voice possible, and directing them at Killian. He’s clearly holding back a smile so she continues, “ You really are a heel. You’re as cuddly as a cactus,” she wiggles up against Killian causing him to burst out laughing before joining her for the rest of the song.

They sing it awfully, but neither of them even needs to look at the prompter. When it’s over they bow obnoxiously as Mary Margaret and David cheer. They break into a fit of laughter before hugging tightly. She finally composes herself when over Killian’s shoulder Emma sees something that makes her blood run cold. She must noticeably react because she hears a concerned, “Swan?” in her ear, but she can’t focus when it feels like the entire room is underwater and she’s drowning.

The name of the woman from the bathroom comes rushing back to her as she watches Tamara kiss Neal in the back corner of the bar. She recognizes her as the secretary at Neal’s office and suddenly all the pieces are coming together: late nights and business trips paired with a suspicious lack of increase in income. How could she be so stupid . If Emma hadn’t gone to hug Killian, she never would’ve seen them, her view blocked by the bright lights of the stage. But she did hug Killian and she does see them.

She’s going to be sick.

For a brief moment, she hopes Tamara just came onto him, and waits for him to push her away. He doesn’t, in fact Emma’s pretty sure Neal leans in further. Emma feels her face turn beat red. Before she can think about what she’s doing, she lets go of Killian and leans into the microphone, twisting her body so she can still see Neal and Tamara, “Neal Cassidy, we are done. Tamara, once a cheater, always a cheater but he’s alllll yours. Merry Christmas everyone!”

She feels Killian go stiff at her side when he realizes what just happened. She grabs his wrist, knowing full well his instinct would be to go beat the shit out of Neal.

It’s her instinct, too.

But, in an attempt to be a bigger person, she drags Killian (and herself) back to the table. As they approach, Killian is stoic, David is hiding his head, and Mary Margaret looks like she’s about to explode. Both halves of the annoyingly happy couple begin to talk, but hesitate as they clearly look for the appropriate words for a completely inappropriate situation. Emma cuts them off, “Shots? Shots. Bartender, please put these on Mr. Cassidy’s tab.” Killian goes to protest, but Emma practically pours the whiskey down his throat, subsequently ending their pity party for the night.

. . .

Mary Margaret and David are long gone, but Killian has been a worthy partner to avoid self-pity with. Somewhere between the three shots of Fireball and her third Captain and Coke, he assured her she deserved better while they threw metaphorical darts at each other’s significant others. She knows she should be sad about Neal, but the longer she spends with Killian, the less she seems to care. Maybe it’s the drinks, or maybe it’s the company, but Emma finds herself up on stage, one more time, with Killian cheering her on... much to the chagrin of the rest of the bar.

Emma isn’t sure what song she’s singing, when the host called Mary Margaret’s name Emma subbed in enthusiastically; she’s feeling good despite the events of the night and she’s ready to go. It takes two seconds for her to recognize Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” and only two more for her to start serenading Killian obnoxiously from across the bar.

But it’s all fun and games until the words you’re singing sink in.

“ I just want you for my own,

More than you could ever know”

The more she sings to Killian, the more she realizes the words aren’t very far off from how she feels about him, no matter how cheesy this song truly is. She’s always ignored her feelings for Killian, brushing them off as inconsequential and platonic– due to proximity and nothing more— but they’ve been nagging at her since he asked her if she loved Neal. Somehow, telling Killian she loved someone else would feel like the final nail in the coffin for any chance she had with him.

What is she thinking?

Emma feels the emotions bubble up inside of her until she’s practically overflowing– and then she’s literally overflowing… all over the stage.

It doesn’t take long for Killian to rush to her side, scooping her up and hauling ass to the bathroom. If she didn’t feel so sick, maybe she’d have room to be embarrassed. Killian doesn’t speak, just springs into action– holding back her hair, and keeping her comfortable until she’s entirely emptied out. She sits back, finally feeling well enough to register how embarrassing this situation actually was, but Killian doesn’t miss a beat, “Alright, Swan. Let’s get you some water. I’ll be right back, aye?”

He helps her lean against the wall and hurries out of the bathroom. Emma hangs her head in her hands while she lets the wave of emotions wash over her.

She’s very thirsty.

She’s very embarrassed.

She’s very in love with her best friend.

Fuck .

Killian returns with a glass of water and a toothbrush– how the fuck did he find a toothbrush? She finds she doesn’t really care and is just grateful to have someone looking out for her at all. Killian stands patiently in the corner while she brushes her teeth and downs the water. She turns to face him and maybe it’s the hydration, but she already feels better. “Well, now that I’ve topped off a perfectly shitty night. Are you ready to go home?”

Killian chuckles and nods before reaching out his hand to lead her from the bathroom and out of the bar. They walk hand in hand, swinging their arms between them until it gets a little colder and Emma finds she still has just enough of a buzz to go for it. She wraps her arms around Killian’s, hugging him tightly before resting her head on his shoulder. They’ve done this a million times, but tonight it feels different– she wonders if he feels it too as their pace slows and they walk in silence.

Emma’s always been on the search for that missing piece, the part of her that will undeniably make her whole. For a while she thought it was Neal, but she sees now she was trying to fit a corner piece into the center of her puzzle. She’d like to think, as they walk arm in arm in a comfortable silence, that Killian could be that piece, but she’s not sure. When she’s with Killian, she doesn’t feel like there’s a part of her that needs to be filled at all– not because he filled it, but because he sees her as complete.

Maybe this is how it's supposed to be– not loving in spite of the missing, broken, or faded pieces, but because of them.. Killian has loved her through everything. She’s just been to blind to see it as anything more than friendship– just happy enough to even have that. But what if she could have more. Mariah Carey starts singing in her head again and Emma feels like maybe she’s let her thoughts get out of hand, but when Killian’s thumb brushes gently over hers, she thinks maybe he’d understand, “This isn’t all I want for Christmas.”

Killian stops abruptly, “I’m sorry?” When he automatically apologizes, Emma realizes she needs to elaborate. Nerves course through her— years of heartbreak playing like a broken record in her mind telling her to put up her guard and run the other way. She’s not sure she’s ready for this— to share her entire self with him, but is anyone ever ready? Is there anyone she’d rather tell? The the resounding “no” that echoes through her train of thought which encourages her to continue on,

“No, no, I mean… You know when you’re a kid and you write out your Christmas list with everything you could possibly want and send it to Santa, and you are sure if you get everything on that list you’ll be truly happy?” Emma is positive she looks insane right now, but Killian is nodding and seems to be following along. “Ok, then Christmas morning comes and maybe you get one or two things off the list, but you already forgot about all the other things because just having this one thing is enough to make you happy. It’s not complete, and it’s not everything, but it’s everything to you at that moment?”

Killian nods, moving closer to her, brushing a stray snowflake out of her hair as the sky begins to open up making the everything around them feel a little bit more magical.

“Well, you’re my entire Christmas list and having you as a friend was the gift I was happy with. Just having you in my life was enough. From the time we were thirteen and you punched Robin for calling me a bitch, to the Grinch Binges, and junk food nights where we eat til we’re sick– I never wanted to give up any of it. I mean… 15 years of friendship...” Something in Killian’s eyes shifts and Emma starts to feel nerves rise through her body. She has to keep going before she chickens out again, “It’s not enough anymore.”

Killian looks like he’s about to apologize again, his eyes drooping in confusion, clearly not understanding her confession, “I’m sorry, Swan– I can try to be better– I know Milah she–”

“No, you idiot. I want more. I want the whole list. The entire Christmas list. All of it.” As Killian processes what she said, Emma stands there for what feels like eternity, heart more on her sleeve than it’s been her entire life. She’s about to speak again when he lunges forward into a kiss that can only be described as Christmas magic.

(Any other day she’d hate how cheesy that sounds, but right now her nerves are on overload and her lips feel like they’re on fire so she’s over it.)

They finally break and Killian rests his forehead on hers, cold from chill in the night air, “Swan, I’m s0r–”

“Killian Jones don’t you dare apologize.” He laughs and leans in for another kiss, this one softer but still affecting Emma just as much. They break again, and Emma feels Killian smile against her lips. She silently wonders if she’s too old to send a thank you note to Santa, or the universe, or whoever placed her right in this moment. Kissing her best friend is not where she thought she’d end the night, but now— in a crazy turn of events—it’s the only place she can imagine being. “Wanna head to my place, put on the Grinch, and make out a little?”

Killian laughs again before answering enthusiastically and taking her hand. “As you wish.”

And she does. As it turns out, Killian Jones satisfies every Christmas wish she has for the rest of her life. He also has the tendency to blast “All I Want for Christmas Is You” every year on their anniversary, even four years later when Emma knows for a fact the small onesie wrapped somewhere under the tree is sure to be Killian’s favorite Christmas present to date.

Even after opening the surprise gift, Killian assures Emma his favorite present will always be her, but when she hears him hum their song to little Hope in the middle of Spring she knows that’s not entirely true. (Still, Emma finds she doesn’t really mind.)

@mariakov81​ @lfh1226-linda​ @kmomof4​ @superchocovian​ @pirateherokillian​ @teamhook​ @nikkiemms @bawley-bug​

[captcas]

i’m not *not* saying this is indicative of things to come... like... maybe tomorrow? 👀

UPDATE:

❤️ https://capthamm.tumblr.com/post/638330566486392832/tis-the-damn-season

[let-it-raines]

@capthamm you are literally far too good to me! Thank you 💕💕💕

How it feels to read a really good fic and find the author has dozens more like it 

[captcas]

invisible string

invisible string by capthamm

Emma had heard stories of the pull you feel when your “soulmate” is near. To her it always sounded more awful than romantic– one day you’re walking down the street and you’re literally tugged in their direction.  

She doesn’t like the idea of fate, but she definitely doesn’t like the fact that someday– with her luck– it may actually pull her off her feet.

part one of capthamm’s captain swan’s folklore read on ao3 / read the ao3 series / read illicit affairs

Emma had heard stories of the pull you feel when your “soulmate” is near. To her it always sounded more awful than romantic– one day you’re walking down the street and you’re literally tugged in their direction.  

She doesn’t like the idea of fate, but she definitely doesn’t like the fact that someday– with her luck– it may actually pull her off her feet.

Taking solace in the fact that some people never feel the mystical pull, Emma has moved on with her life. Luckily, she’s only reminded of its potential when she’s around Mary Margaret– if anyone was going to feel the tug it was going to be Mary Margaret.

Emma tells herself she doesn’t care when Ruby and Ariel feel it within a week of each other.

She’s fine being on her own.

If she falls in love she wants it to be because they want her, not because they’re told they’re supposed to. Her entire life she was dropped into people’s lives who were expected to care for her. It didn’t take long for her to learn that some people would and some wouldn’t.

Who’s to say her soulmate wouldn’t be the same?

Disappointed is something she’s sick of being.

Which is why when late one night walking home from work she feels a yank in her gut, she walks the other way. Emma refuses to get her hopes up, refuses to get hurt.

Turns out fate’s a bitch.

Everyone she’s ever known has practically sprinted towards their soulmate so she wasn’t sure what’d happen now that she ran, but she wasn’t expecting this.

A literally constant pull in different directions that grows stronger and stronger until on night four she spends an entire hour doubled over the toilet just trying to get some relief.

Ok, fine, she gets it.

Brushing her teeth and combing through her hair, Emma decides she looks “good enough” and walks out the door. As though the universe knows she’s finally giving in, her feet move on their own– quickly veering left outside her apartment door and leading her to a small hole-in-the-wall pub she’s never noticed before. It’s literally next door.

Very funny, she rolls her eyes before walking through the door.

The moment she sees him she knows– a feeling of comfort washing over her that feels so foreign it must be better than whatever state of static she was in before. He looks up and she can’t explain it but she knows in her bones he feels it too.

When they’re eyes meet, the pull returns, stronger this time. She feels it immediately, walking towards him as though she’s simply a marionette in life’s weird puppet show. For the first time, Emma finds she doesn’t care, but the closer they get the stronger the pull gets and Emma can’t do this.

She can’t do this.

Ready to deal with a stomach ache for the rest of her life and probably the guilt of one 1,000 “what-ifs”, Emma turns away. Before she can move, she feels fingers wrap around her elbow.

His touch is like fire– not a torch or painful in any way, but a warm bonfire on a summer’s night.

The earth stands still when he speaks, white noise leaving the room like a vacuum, “Please just… one drink.”

Of course he’s British.

Emma meets his eyes again and feels like she’s floating on the deepest lake in Minnesota. Blue everywhere.

She hasn’t felt that feeling since before they took her from Ingrid.

Home.

Logically, she should be terrified, but everything she’s felt for four days has defied logic so she nods and follows him to the bar. He shoots a guy at the end of the bar a look and the young man throws his hands up in defeat before leaving out the front door.

Despite them being very much alone, Emma has never felt less alone in her life.

Everything comes easy with Killian– their lives walking some bizarre parallel line. Dead parents, lost loves, odd jobs, everything she keeps close to her chest comes out without hesitation. As he details his life back to her, she gets the feeling this is as new to him as it is to her.

“I didn’t believe in soulmates.” She interrupts him, the sentence spilling out before she can adjust the grammar to hide what she really means.

He arches his eyebrow in a move that she knows is so him despite only actually knowing him for a few hours, “Didn’t, Swan?” (She likes when he calls her that.) “That’s past tense.”

Emma bites down on her lip. Five hours ago, Emma didn’t believe in soulmates, in the invisible string tying you to another person who is supposed to fit you like a puzzle piece. How could there be someone out there who perfectly matched all her rough edges? It seemed impossible.

Seemed.

Then there was Killian.

None of it makes sense. Three hours with someone and you can already see a future– a real life. It’s against Emma’s very nature, and if it wasn’t Killian, then she’s pretty sure it still would be. He bends where she breaks, and gives where she takes. His smile gives her butterflies and his laugh is already her favorite song.

She feels like Mary Margaret.

Is that really such a bad thing?

These thoughts run through her mind at a million miles per hour and she realizes Killian is waiting. With a deep breath she answers, “It is.”

There’s that smile.

She knows he’s dangerous in every sense of the word– handsome, kind, driven, hilarious– but, despite how absolutely ridiculous it sounds, she also believes they were meant to find each other.

They kiss softly that night, and a new comfort washes through her. She silently wonders what other moments with him will bring that feeling as she falls asleep that night.

She gets her answer in every moment with him for the rest of her life.

[captcas]

hoax

exile by capthamm

your faithless love’s the only hoax i believe in

part five of capthamm’s captain swan’s folklore read on ao3 / read the ao3 series

Grounding herself, Emma fists her hands until her fingers irritate the road burn coating her palms. Regina just got off the phone with Cruella DeVil and Ursula. Cruella and Ursula.

What the fuck?  

Killian arrives and she immediately feels the cool touch of his hook rest on her slightly exposed hip. She’s not sure when this became second nature but she’s glad it has— the consistency grounding her further.

Storybrooke. Chernabog. Town line. Cruella. Ursula. Killian. Hook.

Captain Hook.

She’s dating Captain Hook while co-parenting with the Evil Queen who's trying to decide if she should give Cruella DeVil and Ursula a chance at redemption.

What. the. fuck.

She doesn’t have to deal with these looming realizations as often as she did when the curse broke (the first time), but every once in a while something throws her into a tailspin and she has a hard time finding her way out.

If it weren’t for Killian she’d bet her life savings that Storybrooke was all a delusion and she was sitting in a hospital somewhere compensating for years of home hopping and abandonment.

But then there’s Killian.

There’s been three moments in which Emma knew she wasn’t living a lie.

The first was when Henry came back to her after biting the poisoned turnover. The moment he hugged her… that moment was so visceral, she knew it had to be real.

The second was when Neal died, when she felt a wave of feeling wash over her too great to comprehend. More sobering than any event in her life before, it was a direct reminder nothing is permanent.

The third is every moment she’s spent with Killian since the moment she’s met him. Maybe that’s cheating, shoving hundreds of moments into one, but since she’s met Killian everything has changed.

She was standing in the middle of Cora’s attack, heartless corpses scattered at her feet and she felt another loop setting in, then there was Killian. And so their story goes. Every moment of what the fuck and you’ve got to be kidding me, Killian’s been there— whether on the right side or not is here nor there.

She grasps his hand tightly, drawing a small “x” with her thumb near his wrist and she notices him nod slightly before addressing their ragtag fairytale army, “Emma and I are going to head to Granny’s for some food and then we’ll meet Belle at the library to research our new winged friend.” Everyone nods enthusiastically and leaps into action, David delegating the rest of the group out as Killian squeezes Emma’s hand and leads her away from the chaos.

Once they’re out of ear shot, Killian speaks, “Are you alright, love?”

She loves him. It’s weird, the moment you realize something so profound, but she guesses the small moments are as good as any. “I will be. It’s just… a lot.”

“Aye, Swan. I’m sure it would be for anyone not of our land, but you’ve made great strides in making your own place in this world.” He pulls her in tighter and Emma breathes in his welcoming scent. She always envisioned pirates smelling awful, but Killian is probably the cleanest person she knows. Pirates. She takes a deep breath before diving too deep into that thought.

“Thanks.” She smiles up at him, and she can tell Killian knows how much she means it despite her lack of flowery sentiments he is so versed in. He kisses her temple and she welcomes the silence.

She could handle Elsa making her way into town. Emma was on a level playing field with everyone else, backstories practically nonexistent until Anna entered the picture, but with the arrival of Cruella and Ursula, something shifted in everyone.

There’s history there Emma isn’t a part of and no one is being very forward when it comes to clueing her in. Killian’s holding something back, but she assumes it’s out of shame and knows he’ll tell her on his own time– she didn’t fall in love with a man unscathed; dismal pasts are just part of the package. What’s killing her are her parents, both clearly hiding some dark past with these villains. It’s resurfacing all the anxiety she felt the day the first curse broke. Everyone was so elated, families reunited and memories restored, but Emma felt exactly the same– her relief Henry was going to be alright aside. Snow White hugged her daughter for the first time while Emma hugged her friend Mary Margaret for what felt like the hundredth time.

The playing field was anything but level.

The Enchanted Forest was only a further extension of that, Emma constantly on edge yet feeling 6 steps behind. When she got back to Storybrooke, she felt herself level out— at least she knew how to use the restroom here.

Emma hates to say it, but besides the fact Henry was kidnapped, Neverland was a welcome challenge. Killian warned them the island was greatly unknown even to those who reside there permanently. The playing field leveled itself out completely as everyone seemed just as clueless as she was.

Don’t even get her started on her magic.

Henry has had that book memorized since she met him, the stories practically his now despite him not being alive for the majority of them. He’s always on pace with the rest of the group, knowing references to past dalliances and squabbles without so much as turning a page. She’s glad he’s not feeling this level of anxiousness, but wishes beyond all belief that she could take some of that photographic fairytale memory for herself.

It’s the squeeze of Killian’s hand that brings her back to the present and allows her to walk up the steps to Granny’s without tripping and making an ass of herself. Killian places their order and leans in close to tell Ruby something privately. Before Emma can wonder what he’s said, Killian is leading her up the back steps towards his room and unlocking the door.

“I thought you could use some familiar territory to decompress, love.”

Emma loves him. It’s the only thing that’s convinced her this isn’t some dream that is only minutes from being over. It’s what keeps her fighting tooth and nail for some semblance of normal in her new life which is decidedly anything but. It’s what grounds her when there are literal flying demons from hell trying to take her into the sky.

It’s the only thing that’s made perfect sense.

“Thank you, Killian.” He smiles and begins to turn away, not picking up the true gravity of her appreciation. Emma grabs his wrist and he turns back towards her, worry etched into his brow.

“Are you sure you’re alright, love?” She should answer, but finds herself too busy searching his eyes for any hint that this is a dream.

Emma’s known she loves him for a while now, since the moment they returned from the past– the monumental nature of his trade for her family’s safety winning her heart completely. She doesn’t dare tell him that though– she fears the moment she does is the moment she wakes up back in Boston… alone. Emma hasn’t been alone since the moment Henry found her, and while there are moments she wishes for time to sort out her thoughts, she relishes every moment with her family. At this point, she’s not sure she’d know how to be alone anymore and the thought of leaving this reality for the truth scares her everyday.

Killian’s the only one who seems to remind her this is as real as it gets.

His thumb brushes softly across her wrist where he’s slowly taken control. As though he could read her mind, Killian nods ever-so-slightly, a comforting smile breaking across his face. She squeezes his hand, purposely placing one of his rings in an uncomfortable position on her hand in a futile attempt to wake herself up before she jumps to the point of no return.

Emma finds his eyes again– somehow her anchor even though they’re as blue as the sea. She used to drown in them, the emotions she felt overtaking her as they acted as x-rays into her soul, but as time moved on all she found was comfort. Taking a deep breath, she decides she doesn’t want to live on this edge anymore. If this is all a hoax, she wants to know now before the pain of waking would be more excruciating than she already imagines it would be, but also before he tells her first, and the fear of the unknown stops her from returning the sentiment. Emma aches to tell him, so that she can finally know if the fairytale (literally) she’s been living is truly her life.

So she does.

“I love you.”

As Emma expected, he surges in for a kiss, his actions speaking louder than her three words -even long ago. He comes up for air, and for a moment, Emma refuses to open her eyes, sure the dream will have changed, or worse she’ll have woken up all together, but then that moment passes. Killian’s forehead is hot against hers as she feels the smiles lines grow across it. He breathes out and his breath graces her lips softly. In a seemingly impossible task, Killian closes what little distance remains between them. Emma moves in to kiss him once more, but he leans back slightly to stop her. It’s then, on instinct alone, that Emma finally opens her eyes. As she gazes into an endless expanse of blue, a weight lifts from her chest– a weight left long ago when she turned to find cops in that alleyway instead of Neal. She never realized how heavy it was, not until the moment it was gone– or if not gone, shared.

“I love you too, Swan.”

He brings her back to the here and now in an instant and she’s home.

His voice– light and full of the kind of happiness she truly thought was reserved for the best of dreams– buries itself deep into her mind, creating a sort of tattoo on the memories that lived there. Sure, she’d been told I love you many times, by many people, but the words that leave Killian’s mouth feel permanent.

They feel real.

She rushes forward to kiss him, once again. The electricity radiating through her body, the feel of his hands laced along her lower back, and the smile forming  against her lips finally convince her that, while her life may be part fairytale, it’s undoubtedly as real as any of the others in Henry’s ancient book.

. . . 

@mariakov81​ @lfh1226-linda​ @kmomof4​ @superchocovian​ @pirateherokillian​ @teamhook​ @nikkiemms​