#cs 3a canon divergence

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Valentine’s Rerun (2 of 2): The Valentine

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26@bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @in-spirational @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4  @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree  @jrob64  @anmylica     @cosette141​ 

Canon divergence from the end of 3a. Pan never escaped Pandora’s box, and thus never cast his curse. Now that Storybrooke is villain-free for the moment, the town can get back to everyday life. As Valentine’s Day approaches, 12 year old Henry makes a Valentine for his crush, Grace--a Valentine that through a mix up, falls into the wrong hands. Can this errant Valentine re-ignite a spark that’s been smoldering since Neverland?

Twelve-year-old Henry took a deep breath and looked down at the red, pink and white card in his hand.  It was covered with hearts and flowers and a whimsical drawing of cupid with his arrow notched and pointed toward a dark haired boy and a blonde haired girl who were shyly looking up at each other.

His stomach felt funny—like he didn’t know whether he was excited or whether he was about to throw up—as he thought about what he planned to do.  What if she didn’t like it? What if she didn’t like him the way he liked her? What if she laughed at him and everybody at school made fun of him?

He didn’t think Grace would do that to him, but you never know.  He’d only just gotten over thinking of girls as gross, and honestly, they kind of scared him.

Taking another deep breath and then letting it out, Henry nodded in determination.  He’d just survived an adventure on Neverland .  He’d been kidnapped by Pan’s minions, and he’d have literally lost his heart if his moms and his dad and the rest of his family hadn’t come to save him.  If he was brave enough for that, he was brave enough to let a girl know how he felt about her.

He looked over the card one more time.  The front said “Roses are red, violets are blue…”, and then on the inside it continued, “...for our love I will always find you.  You are my heart’s treasure.” How perfect was this card? It even had their family’s unofficial motto on it!

Henry’s pen hovered for a moment over the illustration on the inside.  What looked like a pirate’s treasure chest sat upon a beach next to a hole that had obviously recently been dug.  The chest was open and red, white and pink hearts spilled out of it.

Nodding his head in determination, Henry added his own sentiments below the illustration.  “I think about you every hour of every day. Do you think we could spend some time together?”

He debated whether or not to sign his name to the card, but in the end decided against it.  What if one of the other kids at school saw it? He’d die of embarrassment if anyone else found out that he like liked Grace!

“Kid, it’s about time for school!” His mom called up the loft stairs.  “You ready to go?”

Henry hastily slid the card into a plain, red envelope, and put it on top of his school books before bounding down the stairs and depositing the entire pile on the kitchen table.  “Just a minute Mom. I need the bathroom.”

“Okay,” he heard Mom say, “but hurry, Kid.  It snowed last night, and the roads are a mess.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma took a last swig of her coffee, and then dumped her stack of case files on the table on top of Henry’s stuff.  She figured she had just enough time to snag a pop-tart from the cupboard before Henry would be ready for school.

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose.  It was barely 7:15 am, and she already had a headache.  Why had she thought it was a good idea to bring an armload of case files home with her to work on after-hours?  She was a good person; why did she want to torture herself?

The minute hand ticked past 7:30, and Emma felt her frustration rise.  “Come on, Henry! If we don’t leave soon, we’re both going to be late!”

Hoping to speed things along a bit, Emma grabbed her files, put them aside, and then shoved Henry’s school stuff into his bookbag.

“Sorry mom!” Henry said, bursting out of the bathroom and donning his peacoat and scarf.  “I just...well...I mean…”

Emma looked at him with concern.  “Something wrong, Kid? You can tell me; you know that, right?”

He looked aside and then nodded, his face flaming.  “I know. It’s not a big deal. It’s just...it’s Valentine’s Day, and there’s this girl I kind of..you know.. like , and I have a card for her.  I just wanted to make sure my hair looks good and stuff.”

Emma smiled and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  “I’m sure she’ll love it, Kid. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

Half an hour later, Henry safely dropped off at school, Emma strolled into the Sheriff’s office, and started the long process of removing all her winter outerwear.  “Brr,” she said, “It’s cold out there!”

Across the bullpen, Hook nodded absently and muttered something about how he was glad she made it safely, as he continued looking down at whatever he’d been reading.

They’d returned to Storybrooke from Neverland three weeks ago.  With Pan safely stowed in Pandora’s box—which Gold had stored in some super secret location with all kinds of protective magic surrounding it—and Greg and Tamara no longer living, things had gone back to what passed for normal in Storybrooke.  Emma didn’t want to jinx it, but they’d been blessedly villain-free for the entire three weeks.

David had decided to take some time off of his co-sheriffing duties to spend quality time with Mary Margaret (and Emma suspected, though she really didn’t want to know about this, he also took time off so that they could focus on making Mary Margaret’s “I want another baby” wish come true), which had left Emma down one officer of the law.  She’d subsequently hired Hook to be her deputy.

She’d thought he’d have been thrilled with the offer to work with her, thought he’d get all flirty and lay the charm and innuendo on thick, but that hadn’t been the case.  He’d been strangely withdrawn ever since they’d returned from Neverland. He was always there when she needed him, but their camaraderie and banter was just... gone ...and Emma had no idea what had happened.  Had she done something to drive him away?

She didn’t want to think about all of it too much, but she missed him.  Somewhere along the way���probably in Neverland—she’d begun to think of him as a friend, maybe one of her best friends in Storybrooke.  He’d become her confidante, and he was always there to offer a listening ear and wise advice when she needed it.

But lately...things were just different.

And she kind of hated it.

If only Neal would adopt the same attitude.  Emma felt the headache intensify at the thought of her ex.  He’d wasted no time asking her to lunch with him the very day that they had returned from Neverland.  She’d stood him up, not sure what she wanted with him. A part of her still loved him; a part of her would probably always love him, but they were different people now.  And truth be told, though she believed at least a part of him truly believed he was doing what was best for her by abandoning her, there are some wounds that can just never fully heal.  

And so, the next time Neal had asked her out, she’d told him as gently as she could that she did care about him, and she was glad that Henry had him in his life, but she’d moved on and their opportunity for a relationship had died more than a dozen years ago.

She’d hoped he would accept it and move on himself, but so far, that hadn’t been the case.  He still pestered her to give him another chance every few days.

Hook put aside the paper he’d been reading, and stood and stretched.  Emma watched, enjoying the way his muscles moved and bunched beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.  “How can I be of service today, Swan?”

Emma eyed the files on her desk.  “Can you file these?” she asked. “They go in that file cabinet against the wall.  They’re arranged by case number.”

“Aye,” Killian said simply, scooping up the files without a glance in her direction.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian grabbed the files and made his way quickly toward the file cabinet she’d indicated.  He felt his heart clench at the brief nearness to her, and the scent of her vanilla and cinnamon shampoo, and the electricity he felt in the air when he was near her.

He’d promised Bae he would back off, give him a chance to try to reunite his family.  He figured he owed him that at least.

But it was torture to be so near Swan and not truly be with her.  He loved her, and he knew that would never change, but he wanted her to be truly happy.  He hoped that happiness would include him, but if she chose to pursue it with Bae, he would abide by her wishes.  Somehow he would let her go.

Perhaps it had been unwise to accept the deputy position and work with her every day, but he only had so much strength.  He could not— would not—deny her any request she made.

He blew out a long breath, shaking his head to clear his melancholy thoughts.  Best to focus on the task at hand rather than the sad state of his romantic life.

Killian made short work of the files, but when he’d placed the last one in its proper place, he realized he was left with one last thing in his hand—a plain red envelope.  He looked down at it quizzically. What was this?

Returning to his desk, he slit it open with his hook and then pulled out the folded piece of cardstock inside.

Killian’s eyes widened as he read the words the brightly decorated missive contained.

“ Roses are red, violets are blue, for our love, I will always find you.  You are my heart’s treasure. ”

And then handwritten below, “ I think about you every hour of every day.  Do you think we could spend some time together? ”

Killian felt his heart pick up speed.  This missive had been on the bottom of the stack of files; the stack Emma had handed him.  Had Emma meant to give it to him? She must have; what other explanation could there be?

Looking down, Killian read the sentiments on the cardstock once more: “ I think about you every hour of every day.  Do you think we could spend some time together? ”

Was it possible?  Was she truly declaring her feelings for him?

He knew she felt something for him, had known it from the beginning.  She was an open book after all.  

I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you.

Even as far back as their journey on the beanstalk, there had been something between them, but her heart had been so bruised, so guarded that she couldn’t give in to it.

Were her walls coming down?  Was this her way of letting him know she wanted to explore the feelings that kiss in Neverland exposed?

For the first time since returning from the accursed jungles of Neverland, Killian felt hope.  Aye, he’d promised Bae he’d back off to give Swan a chance to sort out her feelings, but if this was really happening—if she had made her choice and that choice was him, there was no chance in any realm he was going to turn her away.

Slowly a plan began to form in his mind.

“Swan,” he called over, “I’ll be back in two shakes.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As the sun began to set that night, Emma found herself making her way down to the docks questions swirling through her mind and a strange sense of anticipation in her heart.

For three weeks, Hook had effectively ignored her, and then today….well, today was different.  This afternoon, just before he left for the day, Hook had placed a single, folded sheet of paper on the desk in front of her, then, without a word, he left.

She’d looked after him for a full minute, wondering, for probably the five hundredth time in the last month what was up with him.  Then she’d unfolded the sheet of paper and smoothed it out on the desk in front of her, smiling at the neat, almost flowery handwriting.

Swan,

I would love to spend time with you.  You need never have any question about that, love.  Please meet me this evening at sunset at the Jolly Roger .  I think perhaps it’s time we talk.

Yours,

Killian

Emma had spent the better part of the last two hours trying to decide whether or not to meet Hook as he’d asked.  On the one hand, it was a risk. If she went and he made some grand gesture trying to “win her heart” as he’d promised to do in Neverland—that was, well, a lot .  Even now, all these months later she just wasn’t sure she could take a chance that she was wrong about him.  If she let her guard down and he broke her heart…

On the other hand, she missed him, really, truly missed him.  All through their time in Neverland she’d told herself he annoyed her.  She’d told herself she wished he’d just back off , wished he’d stop with the flirting and innuendo and—even worse—the genuine caring and concern in his eyes.  But now that he had backed off, well now she realized how important he had become to her.  Leaving aside any question of romantic feelings, he had been her friend, a friend who genuinely got her.  Someone who could raise her spirits when they were down, someone who knew exactly what she needed and when she needed it, someone who believed in her 100%, always.

And it was that thought that convinced her that meeting him as he asked was what she wanted to do.

Besides, Henry was staying with Regina tonight, and David and Mary Margaret had big Valentine’s Day plans, so what else was she going to do?

Which is why she found herself at the dock where the Jolly Roger was moored just as the sun touched the horizon.

She wasn’t quite sure of the protocol for boarding a 300-year-old pirate ship.  Were you supposed to knock? Yell out for permission? Just climb on up? Just to cover her bases, she did all three.

A moment later, Killian’s dark head poked out from the hatch, and the smile he gave her was tender and boyish—and, okay, if she was being honest, kind of made the butterflies dance in her stomach.

“Come aboard love,” he said.  “Dinner awaits us in the captain’s quarters.”

Curious, Emma did as instructed, walking the gangplank, and then climbing down the steps of the hold.  When she turned around and got a proper look at the captain’s quarters, her jaw dropped.

There were candles. Everywhere.  A table was set in the middle of the room with a red and white checked table cloth, a beautiful bouquet of roses, accented with baby’s breath, two elaborate place settings and a bottle of wine.

She turned confused eyes on the pirate standing before her, dressed in his customary leather, but with a red brocade vest rather than his customary black.  He looked...nervous. Reaching up to scratch behind his ear, he lowered his eyes to the table. He uncorked the wine and poured them each a generous portion of what looked like Merlot, before clearing his throat and looking back at her.

“I suppose I should have chosen some manner of fancier victuals, but I wanted to provide you with something I knew you would like.”

With a flourish, he removed the cover from her place setting to reveal a steaming grilled cheese sandwich and a generous helping of onion rings.

“Um--” she said, “it looks good?”

She had no idea why it came out as a question.

“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing toward the table.

“Uh...okay.”  

Hook came around the table and held her chair for her, pushing it in gently once she was seated, and then he took his own seat.

“I’m afraid I only have the most rudimentary knowledge of courting protocols within your realm,” he said, “but it would seem that sharing a candlelight meal with your sweetheart is a custom that transcends the years and the realms.”

Suddenly it clicked.  Hook hadn’t just asked her here to talk.  He asked her here on a date .

Emma got abruptly to her feet, heart pounding.  “Hook? What’s going on here?” she asked, “is this...are you...was this a date ?”

Killian slowly got to his feet, brow furrowed.  “Aye?” he said carefully. “Was that not what you intended in the missive you gave me this morning?”

“Was that not what I…. what ?”

“The card you gave me, love,” he said.  As though to illustrate, he pulled a red envelope from his breast pocket and handed it to her.

Thoroughly confused, she pulled the (kind of gaudy) card free from the envelope and read it.

“Killian, where did you even get this, and why do you think it’s from me?”

A look of confusion, quickly followed by what might be embarrassment passed across his features.  “I think it’s from you, Swan, because you gave it to me. It was at the bottom of the stack of files you asked me to put away for you.”

For a moment, Emma merely looked at him, and then suddenly she understood.  Taking her seat again, she started laughing.

“I fail to see what is so amusing, love,” Killian said, taking his own seat.  Emma could hear the embarrassment and frustration in his voice, and that more than anything made her calm down.  Surprised at her own boldness, Emma reached across the table and took hold of his hand and hook.

“Hook, Killian,” she said, “I didn’t give you that card, but I think I know what happened.  This morning Henry was talking about this girl he has a crush on and about a Valentine he wanted to give her.  Must have gotten mixed in with my stuff before we left.”

Hook’s face flamed and he pulled his hand free to scratch at his ear again.  “I...I apologize for the misunderstanding Swan.”

It was that moment, for whatever reason, that everything just...clicked into focus for Emma.  The last three weeks, she’d missed him; that much she already knew.  What she’d failed to grasp until this very moment was the fact that it wasn’t just friendship and support she wanted from Hook.  It was...well, she wasn’t even sure she could define what exactly she wanted from him, but it was something more, something bigger, something that would change the course of her life forever.

The thought was scary, and yet also strangely comforting.  She knew, knew deep down that she could trust her heart with him.  And so, maybe it was time to take a leap of faith.

“Killian,” she said, watching as he resolutely refused to look at her.  Reaching across the table, she tipped up his chin until his eyes met hers.  “It may be true that I didn’t send you that Valentine, but...well...that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

His eyes widened.  “Swan, are you saying--?”

She laughed nervously.  “To be honest, I don’t know exactly what I’m saying.  I’m not good with letting down my walls and being vulnerable and stuff.  I don’t know exactly what I want to happen between us, but I know I want something with you.  Do you—do you mind if we take things slow until I figure it out?”

The smile he gave her could have put the radiance of the sun to shame.  “Love, I’ve got all the time in the world.”

[ohmightydevviepuu]

imperfect boys. perfect ploys. (this is a song about tragedy) [1/6]

“My ‘story’ is that I left a fucked-up situation and it kind of fucked me up,” he’d said.  But it was the way he’d said it, like it hadn’t broken him.  Like it was just a fact. But Emma’s life was a story, too.  A fucked-up situation that had kind of fucked her up.  She wasn’t that kid anymore.  Confidence could be learned.  And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t broken, either. Not if she picked up the pieces.  Not if she told herself a new story.  About who she was.  About what she wanted.  Roots, family, friends, a sense of the familiar—these did not have to be fairy tales. "You owe it to yourself," Mary Margaret said. "Happy endings always start with hope."

--

S3 post-neverland canon divergence. 20k of no-curse renaissance.

read it on AO3

to @wistfulcynic and @thisonesatellite who sat with me while we daydreamed on a hilltop in cornwall on the summer-iest summer day england has ever seen. it took me eight months but i got there in the end.

thank you to @shireness-says for time and feedback and kindness to the IAS @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @idoltina @initiala @thejollyroger-writer for always giving me a cheer when i needed it (including--in B's case--occasionally getting random, context-free paragraphs dumped into her DMs)

--

one. 'when you leave, you just miss it'

The sun was shining.

Almost a week since they’d seen real daylight—maybe more, maybe less.  No one was sure.  Time, like light, did not work properly in Neverland.  That’s what Hook had said, and Neal had agreed, an uneasy peace between them; Regina grumbled and Gold snickered but it had been a week or a lifetime and the sun was shining and she had slept last night, for the first time in a week.

Or a lifetime.

She heard the wind rustling around her through the open portholes.  Tasted the salt on the air, sweet and slightly cool.  Emma sat up and the chill danced around her skin as the sheet fell.  She felt good; rested, refreshed.  Free.

Her clothes were were on the floor where she’d left them.  She slipped from the bunk and picked them up, one by one and hanging from her fingertips. Because time might not have been real in Neverland but everything definitely smelled like she’d been wearing it for a week.  When they got back to Storybrooke she wasn’t just going to wash the clothes.  She was going to burn them.  Just thinking about it made the power well up inside her.  It wasn’t anger or darkness or the unrelenting terror of the Dark Hollow.  It was something else—warm, gentle flames that tickled.

Or maybe she just really needed a shower.

God, a shower.

She dressed quickly and found her way above deck, stumbling over a dozen dozing Lost Boys and one wide-awake former fairy.  Neal and Wendy leaned up against the bulkhead, their legs sprawled out in front of them.  Wendy had curled herself against Neal like she wouldn’t let him go.  

Emma wrapped her arms around herself and glanced up.  The sail billowed, but the Shadow cast no shadow here.  Tink turned and spotted her.  The way her eyes lit up made Emma’s breath catch.  They were going home.

“We’re nearly there,” Tink said.  “I almost can’t believe it.  Where’s Hook?”

Emma shrugged.  “I thought he needed to be here.  Steering.”  Behind them, the giant wheel turned on its own.

“Magic,” Tink said.  “The ship, it has magic.  Not my kind—I’ve no idea how it works.”

“And I’ll never tell.”  His hair was mussed by the wind but his coat hung heavy over him.  Weighing him down.  The words were heavy, too, weighted with meaning—something in his eyes before he cleared his throat.  Then Captain Hook inclined his head and it was gone, replaced with twinkles like tiny blue gems in his eyes.  “Tinker Bell.”

“Hook.”  A speculative syllable as the fairy stared intently and he blushed.  Emma looked from one of them to the other until Hook’s eyes caught hers and held.  He raised his eyebrow, just the one.

Emma raised hers.  Both of them.

“Swan,” he said.

“Hook,” she said.

“Mom!”  Henry ran across the deck, leaving Regina behind in the companionway with a genuine smile on her face.  Neal’s eyes opened immediately at the sound of his son’s voice and he scrambled to his feet, catching Henry in his arms but barely slowing him before he angled back toward Emma.  She nearly fell over as she absorbed the fullness of his hug.  Her son’s arms around her, finally.

Six days.  Not even a week.  But her life had changed in less time before:  The time it took to steal a car, to open a locker.  Sixteen hours to give birth.  Ten hours on a beanstalk.

The kiss it took to break a curse.

A week was plenty of time for her world to turn itself upside down.  Again.

“The sun is fully up,” Hook said.  “We’ll be arriving shortly in Storybrooke.”  A fairy-tale land full of fairy-tale people encased in a magic shield that they were going to pierce with a magic boat piloted by a pirate and guided by a demon’s Shadow.  Hook spoke and the ship turned on a dime, the wheel spinning, the Shadow-filled sail briefly flashing white, and there it was.

The harbor.  The clock tower.  The neon sign of the B&B.

“Home,” Mary Margaret whispered, coming to stand next to Emma.

David rested his hand on her arm and Emma tensed.  His smile gentled and he moved, stepping back to pull Mary Margaret closer.  “Together.  Heroes, villains—pirates.”  Pride glowed briefly in his eyes.  “Just like you said.”

Heroes, villains, pirates.  Parents.

Storybrooke.

Home.

The rest of the fairy-tale folk rushed to the rails, hanging over the sides for a closer look at their heroes’ welcome.  A faint sound carried on the breeze—laughter.  Cheers.

They were in the water.  They were in the harbor.  The gangplank lowered.  Henry was practically trembling with excitement as he hurled himself onto the dock, zooming between his father and his grandparents and Granny and—and—and—

But it was Neal Emma was watching.  Hugging his father.  Hugging Belle.  Escorting Wendy.  No longer a Lost Boy but a found one.

“Home.  The place that when you leave, you just miss it.”  He’d told her that the night they’d met.  Her lifetime had been a series of moves from place to place to place and every time, she’d only known one thing for certain:  She wasn’t home.  Not yet.  She’d been seventeen and Neal Cassidy had kneeled in the dirt and picked the lock and when he turned the amusement park lights on and smiled at her, knowing and full of confidence, her entire world had shifted on its axis.

“My ‘story’ is that I left a fucked-up situation and it kind of fucked me up,” he’d said.  But it was the way he’d said it, like it hadn’t broken him.  Like it was just a fact.  Or maybe it was a secret he was sharing.  With her.

Home.  Neal wrapped Wendy and her brothers in a group hug with an expression Emma had never seen before.  But Emma’s life was a story, too.  A fucked-up situation that had kind of fucked her up.  She wasn’t that kid anymore.  Confidence could be learned.  And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t broken, either.  

Not if she picked up the pieces.  Not if she told herself a new story.  About who she was.  About what she wanted.  Roots, family, friends, a sense of the familiar—these did not have to be fairy tales.  The flame warmed inside her again, as if the idea of wanting—of knowing what she wanted—was its own kind of magic.  Maybe it was.

Possibilities.  Hope.

In her.  In the magic.  In this town.  It wasn’t a home—yet—but for the first time Emma felt like it could be.  If she let it.  If she wanted it.  If she chose it.

Henry turned back to her, waiting.  An impatient gesture.  She took one last long look around the decks of the ship.  Hook stood at the helm, tracing the scratch marks in the wood.

Home.

With a deep breath, Emma stepped onto the dock.

two. 'i quite fancy you'

The realization hit at approximately the same time Emma Swan hit the water, the waves enveloping her and dragging her down, though he didn’t think about it.  Not then.  Not in the midst of the magically-intensified storm and the maelstrom wrought by his own frustrations:  Baelfire’s death, his son missing, the Dark One on his ship and Prince-bloody-Charming up in arms and in Killian’s face, so certain it was he who was the captain here—an uncomfortable thought all on its own, and similarly ignored.

But then she’d hit the water and it was all hands on deck.

Nothing else mattered as they retrieved her from the deep and lowered her to the deck and waited.  Waited for her to breathe, to move, to cough out the water, her body wracked by the effort but alive.  The storm vanished as quickly as it appeared but the weight lingered.

Killian did not like to think about the last time he had seen a woman laid out before him on his ship.  About how it had ended.  So he ignored it.  Ignored it with the patience and practice of a man accustomed to counting time in centuries rather than minutes and it was easy enough.  In Neverland the only thing real was the here and the now; their horrific, indeterminate trek across the island was more than enough to occupy his mind.

Until it wasn’t.

He set himself up a good bit away from the others as they made their camp.  He refused to watch the undisturbed slumber of the Charmings.  Even Regina slept, but not Killian.  Never Killian, never on Neverland.  Whether it was better or worse to be alone and surrounded by the haunted cries of the Lost, Killian did not know.  He’d thought and hoped never to hear them again no matter how unnaturally prolonged his life might be.  But he knew this—it was too easy for Pan to grab on to a person in the netherworld of Neverland at night and it was darker now than Killian remembered it being, unless it was just the effect of the rum. 

He almost wished it was.

Either way, there wasn’t enough of the bloody stuff to soothe the ragged edges of his soul.

He’d said it as a joke.  Or a feint.  An instinctive push in their ongoing tug-of-war.  “I quite fancy you sometimes,” he’d said.  But here in the dark surrounded by the cries he had no choice but to admit to himself that he’d meant it.

Horrific thought.

Idly, he wondered if Tinker Bell was still here.  Their tactics for sleep--and mutual exhaustion--had always proved more then satisfactory in the past.  Pleasurable, even; some of the only good memories Killian had of this place.  Only that felt somehow…disloyal.  A betrayal to an idea that his heart was apparently already committed to.  Killian took another pull from the flask and reminded himself that villains didn’t get happy endings and if Captain Hook had been anything in his life, it was that.  

After all, if he had been a better man, perhaps Baelfire wouldn’t have left.

It was with that happy thought that the cacophony of cries reached its crescendo—midnight, then, or near enough on this cursed island where the night felt endless.  Perhaps it was endless, now.  The days seemed shorter—nonexistent—the darkness constant.  The island was changing.  Dying.  Killian knew only too well there was nothing Pan would not do to prevent that happening.  Every instinct told him that Henry was the answer Pan sought.

Killian had not been lying when he told Emma that on this island, he was not the villain.  Perhaps that was why he waited.  Waited to hear the whisper of movement and the moment she finally gave up.  When she finally got up.  He had never wondered if she might hear the cries.  It had been very nearly his first thought upon meeting her.  She’d had the Look and few knew it better than he.  Maybe Baelfire—Neal—had recognized it, too.

He could hear the muttered imprecations under her breath and was only gratified that she had sense enough to take the cutlass with her as she began to roam the surroundings of their camp.  And then he heard something else.

Not words.  A voice.  A voice that taunted him still, lurking on the edges of his nightmares.  Even worse, he knew what it meant.  To be approached by Pan was to have a quest assigned, a task given.  When Emma stumbled out of the woods clutching a scrap of parchment, he stood to meet her, already on alert.

Pan always did like his games.

three. 'you owe it to yourself'

The shower felt incredible.  One after Granny’s; one before bed; one when she woke up.  Part of her felt like she might never not be covered in dirt and sweat again.  Part of her just wanted the warmth and the solitude.  Even in a loft built for one and sleeping four, the shower was a one-person-at-a-time activity.

She hoped.

Exhausted but too restless to sleep, Emma had lain in her bed and stared at the exposed beams, counting the wood scratches and feeling it every time someone in the apartment breathed.  Henry’s little snores made her smile with every exhalation and though here Mary Margaret and David were only—breathing—it was hard not to think about the other things they could be doing in the bed they shared at the bottom of the ladder.

Ew.

Emma really needed to get her own place.

Henry would want to go back to spending nights at Regina’s again, anyway.  As he should.  She was his mother.

Emma couldn’t help but think of Regina at the Tree.  Regina with ‘no regrets’.  She wasn’t sure if she believed any of it, but she couldn’t argue with the result—all of them, still standing, at the end of something horrible.  Even if Emma thought Regina should have a few regrets—surely some of the murders had been unwarranted—maybe it was time to follow Regina’s example.  Leave the past behind and focus on what she had.

What would it be like, to live with no regrets?

A new beginning.

A steam cloud followed her as she opened the frosted glass sliding door and followed the sweet smell of coffee to the kitchen island—a little pot, in an honest-to-goodness tea cozy, left in the blessedly quiet loft.  Mary Margaret hadn’t done that in—she hadn’t done that since—

Before.

The texts had accumulated on her phone while she showered.  She recognized most, but not all, of the phone numbers—David, Mary Margaret, Henry, Ruby—and remembered suddenly that she didn’t know which one might be Neal’s.  Being presumed dead made that easy enough to excuse.

She was glad he wasn’t dead.

Emma sighed.  Maybe it would have been easier if she’d set a time, or maybe it just would have been funnier:  An hour to process Felix into the cells.  Another at the pawnshop to watch Pan sealed beneath the floor—a tiny box to hold so many nightmares, but both of her parents standing next to her in spite of the dreamshade.  Henry flanked by his mothers, his father, three of his grandparents.

Of course Neal had approached her—exactly down to the minute on the timer she had not set—cornering her at Granny’s.  The beer was flowing, the food was hot, the noise was crushing her skull.  Tick, tock.

“Emma, can we make some time to talk?”

She hadn’t even gotten her coat off, and it was weird to suddenly need it again after six days and a lifetime sweating in an otherworldly jungle.  She saw Hook at the bar with Tink, a glass mug of amber liquid in each of their hands as they toasted.  Mary Margaret and David pushed in behind and around her to head for a table.  Regina and Henry were tucked in together at a booth.  

Tick, tock.

She forced her attention back to Neal.  “Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” she said.  “Unless—are you trying to ask me on a date?”

Yes.

Yes, he was and yes, she would make time—because they needed to know what would happen.  Emma had a few ideas and as Mary Margaret always said happy endings start with hope.  It was the look on Mary Margaret’s face as Neal settled himself back into his booth that had her worried.  The big eyes, the bright smile.  It was a look she wasn’t totally used to seeing on her friend’s face because it was such a Snow White look.

“You owe it to yourself,” Mary Margaret had said.

Tick, tock. 

A motherly look.  She wasn’t used to that yet, either.  Six days or a lifetime hadn’t quite given her enough time to digest the shift from best friend to parent and almost every minute since the curse had broken had been one unrelenting nightmare after another.   Ogres, giants, beanstalks.  Cora.  Hook.  Neal.  It didn’t help that even while Mary Margaret was urging her to take the chance—“You owe it to yourself”—Emma kept thinking about the chances Mary Margaret and David wanted to take.

Tick, tock.

They were home now, the three of them—four—five—six—or maybe eight—one big modern fairytale family—and that mattered, even if Mary Margaret had looked her in the eyes and promised that she wouldn’t be an orphan anymore and then decided that she would stay in Neverland forever if she had to.  The thin leather strap of the waterskin crossed over David’s shoulder didn’t feel like much against that, but it was everything.

The water.  From Hook.  And every time she’d turned Emma had seen Hook watching, his eyes tightening slightly every time David moved.  Like he was waiting for something.  Tick, tock.

Shaking herself, Emma finished her cup of coffee and hauled herself back up the ladder.  The curling iron felt comfortable in her hand; it was a relief to look in the mirror and see someone she recognized, from Before.  Her blue leather jacket because it was warmer, her favorite tank top layered underneath, and she was going to go to Granny’s and have a goddamn normal day.  Whatever that meant now—now that it wasn’t Before, but After.  After the curse.  After the Enchanted Forest.  After Neverland.  

After—everything.  

She wasn’t a tiny princess under a mobile of glass unicorns; none of them knew what to do with a goddamn adult with a past.  A history, a trauma, that was not part of their storybook fantasy, and more than a missed opportunity that they could recreate.  

She refused to just be that.  She was a mother, too.  A sheriff.  A Savior.  

An orphan.

If what they had was unique, to use Mary Margaret’s words from the Echo Cave, then they had to be able to make their own definitions.  Their own rules and wants and needs and hopes.  Their own story.  And what Emma wanted, more than anything, was to carve out her own space in this world—parents, children, magic, exes, and evil queens—and know that it was hers.  That she belonged.  Emma wanted to know that when Henry came for her he wasn’t just looking for her to break a curse.  He was bringing her home.

How did Snow White, of all people, not understand that?

She glanced at her phone, at the time and at the last text message.  Pulled on her shitkicker black boots and closed the door behind her.

She had a date to get to.

[snowbellewells]

Happy Happy Birthday Jennifer!! @whimsicallyenchantedrose

So, while I wasn’t able to write you a brand new birthday story this year, I thought it might be fun to highlight my all-time favorites of your stories. You were the first fandom friend I met and interacted with, we talked the show and plot points and character development together, and you helped me begin to navigate Tumblr back when I first joined. It’s been a gift to know you all that time, and your writing is a gift to us all! You’ve written so many GREAT stories that it was hard to narrow down, but I have settled on my top half dozen at last to highlight for your special day -- with some cover art for a few of them!!! 💖 Hope this gift serves to remind you of all you’ve written and created and how much all of it - and you!! - are loved. 🥰

The Strongest Magic - This short MC is one of your very early works - a Neverland season 3a divergent tale, but where it diverges gives us powerful adventure and emotion, sacrifice, and much earlier admission and acceptance of the love between our Pirate and Princess. I simply adore it - it squeezes your heart for sure, but it also wraps you up in a wonderful happy ending by the time you are finished.

A Wish Your Heart Makes , Getting to I Do & Mysterious Fathoms Below - This series of longer, connected multi-chapters (The "By Land or By Sea" trilogy) is simply EPIC!!! I don't know how to sing the praises of this story half as much as it deserves. There's adventure in the Enchanted Forest, Camelot, and even under the sea! There's so much beautiful love story for CS (and even some lovely, redemptive Outlaw Queen as well), and @whimsicallyenchantedrose even incorporates some unexpected and perfectly cast characters of myth and legend and her own creation alongside our faves. I don't want to give too much away, but these stories MUST BE read! Once you do, you'll want to read them over and over again.

Happily Ever After - This short MC was originally part of your Fluffy Fridays compilation, and I have often revisited the few chapters of this on their own and definitely think of them as their own little stand-alone story. I love the family recipes, the competition, the rivalry that becomes something much sweeter.... it's a truly delicious addition to your collection of writing!

Caribbean Shores - This lovely little MC reads more like a modern day AU, though they are in Storybrooke and many of our favorite characters still appear. I love the cute sweetness of this one, and the adorable addition of a few scheming cuties from MM's class when she takes them for a field trip tour of the Jolly Roger from Killian. ;) All the sizzle and attraction is there for Emma and Killian right from the start, and though she tries to resist (Why is she always so stubborn?!?) She can't do it for long...

Under the Apple Tree - It's hard to even express how much I adore this fic originally written between season six and season seven of canon. The way @whimsicallyenchantedrose wove in what we knew might be coming in season seven and then supposed what still could happen (a lot of which I would have loved to really see!) is simply brilliant. I love the relationships explored and the way the plot unfolds. It's a special and unique version of our beloved characters, and of course the unstoppable power of Captain Swan to always find each other again is fully on display too! ;p

Until the Stars are all Alight - Wow, this story must have been such a daunting task to undertake - one I would have been afraid to tackle, but the skill with which the OuaT world and the LotR world are woven together, how the plotlines come together and reach fruition, and how the characters coincide for best use so seamlessly is truly admirable and just adds to the depth and power of this full multi-chapter adventure. It has heart and hope and True Love conquering all - all the best things we love so much from the world of fairy tales and the brain of J.R. R. Tolkien!

[kmomof4]

Self Promo Sunday: Somewhere Out There

Thursday my youngest was walking around the house singing Somewhere Out There from An American Tail and it made me want to go back and read my fic inspired by the song. It made me so happy to bring that fic back to the front of my mind, I decided to share it with all of you again! 

I would be remiss to not mention @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ and @thisonesatellite​ for their beta services on the two chs of this fic, and the GORGEOUS artwork @wefoundloveunderthelight​ made for this fic! Her artwork is up above. I had some ideas for some artwork of my own, so I made a picset myself and you can find it below the cut. 

Summary: 3a divergence in which Killian’s attempt at True Love’s Kiss works and brings Emma’s memories back.

Rated: M (smut towards the beginning, but it is separated with a double  *~*~* at the beginning and end)

Words: 5280

Tags: 3a Canon Divergence, TLK

On ao3

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@jrob64​ @teamhook​ @winterbaby89​ @hollyethecurious​ @xarandomdreamx​ @undercaffinatednightmare​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @stahlop​ @superchocovian @pirateprincessofpizza​ @tiganasummertree​ @anmylica​ @cosette141​ @motherkatereloyshipper​ @zaharadessert​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @jennjenn615​ @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​ @kymbersmith-90​ @booksteaandtoomuchtv​ @wistfulcynic​ @mie779​ @snowbellewells​ @lfh1226-linda​ @aprilqueen84​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @pirateherokillian​ @elfiola​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @justanother-unluckysoul​ @poptart-cat-78​ @myfearless-love​ @goforlaunchcee​ @searchingwardrobes​ @gingerpolyglot​ @gingerchangeling​ @djlbg​ @cocohook38​ @cs-rylie​ @thisonesatellite​ @donteattheappleshook​ @deckerstarblanche​ @veryverynotgoodwrites​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @fleurdepetite​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Somewhere out there, beneath the pale moonlight,

Someone’s thinking of me, and loving me tonight.

Somewhere out there, someone’s saying a prayer,

That we’ll find one another, in that big somewhere out there.

And even though I know how very far apart we are,

It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star.

And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby,

It helps to think we’re sleeping underneath the same big sky!

Somewhere out there, if love can see us through,

Then we’ll be together, somewhere out there,

Out where dreams

Come true.

~*~*~

Emma woke with a start, breath ragged, chest heaving, desire coiling in her belly. All she could remember from the dream that woke her was a pair of blue eyes, the hue of which were the deepest, most clear blue she’d ever seen, a jungle dripping with humidity, and a kiss that rocked her world.

She swung her feet out of bed and padded over to the sliding glass door to her balcony. She couldn’t help the feeling that washed over her that said it was more than a dream. It had the feeling of memory.

The night wind caressed her arms and raised goosebumps as she looked up at what stars she could see in the New York City predawn darkness. Her eyes landed on a particularly bright star, even with the city lights. She couldn’t understand why the dream felt like a memory, but she also couldn’t suppress the longing she felt. The longing for the mystery man in her dream that felt like a memory. Could he be out there somewhere? Who was he? Could he see the same stars she did? Would he make a wish? As she tried to pull the wisps of the dream into some coherent whole, she remembered a feeling of gratefulness, of excitement, playfulness, anticipation. As if this was something they had been moving towards for some time. She looked back up at the star. She shut her eyes and brought the vision of blue eyes that could somehow see right through her to the front of her memory. Opening her eyes again, she wished that if he was real, he would find her. For some reason, her gut was telling her that there would be no finding him, and her gut rarely steered her wrong. She shook her head at her fanciful musings. If anything about the dream (memory) had been real, perhaps going back to sleep would reveal more of it. She took a deep breath, went back inside, and was asleep again almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

~*~*~

Killian Jones stood at the helm, guiding his beloved Jolly Roger, without conscious thought. It allowed him the time and freedom to think of Emma, the only thing he loved more than his ship. The pain of their separation had lessened over the past year to a near constant dull ache that allowed him to pull out her memory without feeling like he couldn’t breathe with the desire to be by her side again.

Taking a deep breath, he looked up into the endless expanse of stars above him. Finding a particularly bright star slightly to port, he whispered a prayer to any god that would listen that his love and her son was safe and that he would someday be able to find her. As he looked closer at the star he was wishing on, he realized that it was part of Cygnus. Confusion that melted into stunned amazement colored his features. No wonder he had noticed that star first. Cygnus was always the first constellation that he looked for in the night sky. And even though it was in the wrong position, his subconscious must have directed him to it. But why was it pointing to the west instead of north? Suddenly, he heard a voice on the night breeze. Find me.

Looking again at the constellation of his love, he knew that it was pointing to her. He adjusted the heading of the ship. I’m coming, Swan.

~*~*~

The following night the Jolly emerged from the portal into the Land Without Magic. He looked skyward and quickly located Cygnus, still pointing west. Given the position of the rest of the stars in the sky, he estimated it to be about 4am. Hoping against hope that it wouldn’t take him too long to reach shore, he adjusted the headings and sent his thoughts ahead of him. Almost there, Swan.

~*~*~

Emma woke to a pounding on the door.

Grumbling not only at being pulled from a wonderful dream, but also being woken at, she glanced at her phone, 7:30 on a Saturday morning, she was going to give whoever was at her door a sound thrashing before she slammed the door in their face and attempted to get back to the dream she was having. A dream that she remembered this time. The most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on, with eyes blue as the sea, telling her that he would win her heart without trickery.

She opened the door, mouth open ready to give this idiot a piece of her mind, when her jaw dropped even further as she saw the man from her dream standing on her threshold.

His face broke out into a relieved smile as he breathed, “Swan, at last.” He moved toward her before her thoughts could coalesce into anything more than utter astonishment. Cupping the back of her head, his lips descended on hers before she could even blink.

And oh boy, could the man kiss. His lips moved over hers with a sensuality that made her weak in the knees. When his tongue requested entrance, she opened for him without conscious thought. A breeze suddenly swept through them with a kaleidoscope of rainbow color bursting from their joined lips. He released her with a just as stunned expression as she was sure she was sporting. “Killian?”

“Emma?” he echoed, his eyes wide, “You remember?” His shock melted into undisguised joy as she pulled him into her apartment. Her face mirrored his as memory after memory paraded themselves through her brain. Their beginnings on the beanstalk, beating him in a sword fight at Lake Nostos, him coming back for her to go after Henry in Neverland, his constant support and belief in her, his promise to win her heart once she and Henry were home safe, saving him from the shadow in Dark Hollow, Pan’s curse... those last two and their last moments together at the town line compelled her to crash her lips against his again. Tongues tangled and teeth clacked together in their desperation to get as close as physically possible.

Releasing her lips, his cerulean gaze bored into hers. “Answer me, Emma,” he begged. “Do you remember?”

She stroked his cheek tenderly. “Did a day go by that you didn’t think of me, Killian?” she asked in reply.

A groan escaped him as he pulled her into his arms again, “Not a one, darling,” he cooed, just before lowering his lips to hers.

“Bedroom,” she moaned against his lips, walking backwards, drawing him with her deeper into her apartment and turning into her open doorway.

“What about your lad,” he asked, finally completely releasing her lips so that she could answer.

“Henry sleeps like the dead. He won’t be awake before ten on a Saturday,” she assured him, “We have plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time,” he parroted, “for what I have planned. Oh Swan, how I’ve missed you, my love,” he murmured, pressing tender kisses along her neck, making her shiver.

“Even if I didn’t know it, I missed you too.” She leaned her head back, giving him better access. “I dreamt about you. Night before last and this morning.”

He pulled back, amazement covering his features. “Really?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes,” she answered. “You beating on the door this morning woke me from a dream when you told me you’d win my heart. I was about to let you have it so I could try to get back to it. But then, you were there, and the kiss, and, and…” her voice trailed away as he pulled her to him and began sucking a mark into her collarbone. “Ohhh, Killian,” she moaned, weaving her fingers in his hair and holding him to her.

“Delicious,” he murmured. “Your skin is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

~*~*~

~*~*~

She pressed herself into him until her breasts flattened against his chest and she could feel every muscle of his body. She led him further into the bedroom until her legs hit the bed. She sat down on it and immediately went to work on his laces, while above her, he shrugged out of his duster and started working on the buckles of his vest. Pushing his leathers down enough to free his straining erection, she looked up at him coyly through her eyelashes. “I see something I want,” she purred, before pulling him forward into the ‘v’ between her legs and circling his red and weeping tip with her tongue. She closed her mouth around him and bobbed her head taking him deeper each time until he hit the back of her throat. She moaned around his length before releasing him with a pop. She looked back up at him to see his eyes nearly shut in ecstasy, his face completely wrecked. “You alright there, Captain?” she asked.

“Ohhh, Swan,” he shuddered, “I will be paying you back for that. Up you get,” he commanded before climbing on the bed next to her. A giggle escaped her mouth as she moved to the head of the bed, never taking her eyes off her pirate who pursued her with predatory intent. His eyes nearly glowed with love and lust as he made his way toward her on the bed. Finally reaching her, she started working on the buttons of his shirt as he let out a low growl. “Are you fond of this garment, Swan?”

Too distracted by the skin she was revealing as she unbuttoned his shirt, she was barely aware of his hook catching in the fabric of her plaid pajama top and tearing it asunder. She threw her head back in ecstasy as his lips closed around a rosy nipple. After his ministrations nearly drove her mad, she became aware of the steady direction he was pursuing. He pressed open mouthed kisses with swirls of his tongue down into the valley between her breasts before heading lower to her navel, and finally to the top of her pajama bottoms. He drew them and her panties down in one smooth movement until she was completely bared before him. His quick intake of breath made her acutely conscious of how long it had been since anyone had seen her naked.

“Don’t Swan, please,” he pled, as she made to cover herself, “I want to see all of you.” He took her hand in his own and pressed kisses into her knuckles. “You are so beautiful, my Swan,” he murmured, “You take my breath away.” He shrugged his own shirt off, so she could finally see all of him. He was perfect in her eyes. The scars that criss crossed his torso told her parts of the story that ultimately led him to her. She grabbed his hook and gently kissed the cold metal before she reached around the back of his shoulder to release the buckles that held his brace to his arm. At the widening of his eyes and his sharp inhale, she rushed to reassure him.

“You are beautiful too, Killian,” she confessed, “and I want to see all of you.” Her gentle insistence made the air rush out of his lungs. His eyes swam with wonder and love as he helped her remove the brace from his stunted arm. Once it was removed, she brought his arm up and rubbed her cheek against the gnarled end. She turned into it and placed a lingering kiss to the disfigured limb. “This is a part of you, Killian. And every part of you is beautiful to me.” She looked up into his eyes again to impress upon him the seriousness of her next words. The words that she herself had just realized the truth of. “I love you, Killian Jones. I love every part of you.”

At her declaration, he made one of his own. “And I love you, Emma Swan and I will never again leave your side.” He lowered himself to her then and kissed her within an inch of her life. He drove her higher and higher with his kisses and his hands roaming her body, finding all the little places that made her cry out in pleasure, until he finally lined himself up and pushed into her warmth. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he began slow and measured thrusts into her that made her see stars. Every time their hips met, he ground himself against her clit until she was nearly sobbing with her need to come. With one final thrust and grind, he whispered in her ear, “Come with me, Emma. I want to feel you come all over my cock.” She was helpless to resist him and came just as she felt him throb within her, signaling his own release.

~*~*~

~*~*~

Breathless and sated, she turned to him once he had rolled off of her. “How did you do it? How did you get to me?”

He looked thoughtful as he gazed at her ceiling before turning to look at her. “Night before last, I was at the helm of the Jolly, thinking of you, when I noticed that Cygnus was not where it belonged in the night sky. It was pointing west instead of north. At that moment, I heard your voice on the night wind. Find me it said. I knew in my heart that Cygnus was pointing the way to you. So I adjusted our course and sailed west until we fell through a portal that brought us out about an hour and a half from the shore. I continued following Cygnus until it rested on this building. I got inside and easily saw which one was yours with your name on the rows of boxes just inside the door.”

She stared at him for a moment, stunned, before leaning over him and kissing him with all the love in her heart. They broke apart suddenly when they heard Henry emerge from his room like a herd of wild elephants. “Mom! Mom!” he exclaimed, banging on her door. “I remember! Where are you? What’s happening?”

Emma threw on her robe and quickly crossed the room, hissing at Killian to get dressed and meet them in the kitchen, before opening the door to her breathless, twelve year old son. “Mom! What happened?” he asked, his eyes wide as saucers. She ushered him into the kitchen as he continued to pepper her with questions. “I was asleep and having weird dreams of dying and you kissed me and woke me up, and meeting my father, and being taken to Neverland. Then I woke up and realized they weren’t dreams at all, but I remembered it all! How did it happen? Was it another True Love’s Kiss?”

She sat him down and knelt in front of him as she heard Killian emerge from her bedroom into the hallway. “Yes, Henry,” she began. “It was a True Love’s Kiss.” She turned her head toward Killian now standing at the entrance of the kitchen. He sent her a gentle smile and small nod, encouraging her to continue. “Between me and Killian,” she confessed, giving Henry a small smile. The smile that broke his face rivaled the sun, and she knew she didn’t have to worry about how he was going to feel about having Captain Hook as a part of his family.

“Cool!” he shouted, looking over at Killian. “But what now? Can we go home? Is Storybrooke back? Can we go to the Enchanted Forest if it isn’t?” His enthusiasm was contagious and she couldn’t help but laugh as she looked at Killian again,

“Well, Captain?” she asked, “I think those are better questions for you. But as far as I’m concerned, let’s get packed! We’re going home! One way or the other!”

With a whoop that threatened to break the windows, Henry leaped up and ran past Killian to his bedroom. She sauntered up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He laid a gentle kiss to her lips before he answered Henry’s questions. “I’ve no idea if Storybrooke is back or not, but we can certainly go find out. And if it isn’t, I have every reason to think that the portal back to the Enchanted Forest is still there. It didn’t close after spitting us out. I could still see it as the sun was rising and I could see the harbor in the distance.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed, “Well then, Captain. Let’s go home.”

~*~*~

The Jolly Roger cut smoothly across the crystal clear water, swiftly approaching the castle of Snow White and Prince Charming. Emma felt a thrill of excitement skitter down her spine as she beheld the flawless edifice for the first time. Memories of her first trip to the Enchanted Forest paraded themselves across her mind’s eye, the ruins of the castle she was born in, as well as her mother’s tears when faced with its destruction.

But this morning, with the sun rising over the mountains that surrounded her parents castle, the exterior nearly blinded her. The rays reflected off the white stone and turrets she remembered her mother talking about after they returned home from their Enchanted Forest adventure until her vision was positively dazzled. Her family and the other inhabitants of the place of her birth had obviously worked hard to rebuild in the year that they’d been back here. Or maybe Regina had simply waved her hand to restore the castle to its former glory.

They had left New York forever the next day after spending that Saturday packing up what they wanted to take with them and taking care of all the loose ends that would have been left had they simply disappeared. They arrived two days later at the familiar rocky coast of what had once been Storybrooke to find nothing but unblemished forest and sea birds. Poor Henry looked like he was about to cry, and she had to admit that she was having trouble hiding her own tears as well. She’d been careful, she thought, about getting her hopes up, but seeing with her own eyes no trace of Storybrooke, she realized just how much she had come to think of the small town as home and just how disappointed she was that it wasn’t there. Killian helped dispel the melancholy that had enveloped them by taking them both in his arms and assuring them that he would get them home to their family. They changed course, back toward New York until they found and fell through the portal that would take them home.

A feeling of peace, of home settled over her for the first time in her life. All her life she’d been shuffled from place to place, group home to foster home and back again. And even as an adult, the longest she’d stayed anywhere was Tallahassee. But with her pirate and son behind her, she looked over her shoulder to see Killian leaving Henry at the helm and begin making his way toward her, and the rest of her family ahead of her, living in a fairy tale castle to boot, she had never felt so content.

Strong arms circled around her waist and clasped over her middle. She covered his hands with her own as he nuzzled into her neck, placing a tender kiss right behind her ear. “What are you thinking, Swan?” he murmured.

She turned in his arms and raised up onto her toes to kiss him. “Just how much this feels like home. Neal told me, years ago, that home was the place that when you left, you just missed it. Obviously I never missed the Enchanted Forest. I’d never lived here. And going back to where Storybrooke had been made me realize how very much I missed my family.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “Missed you. Even if I didn’t remember.”

Killian smiled down at her. “Aye, Love. We missed you, too.” He gathered her in his arms and hugged her tightly for a few moments before he gave her a chaste kiss and released her, turning back toward the helm. She watched as he took over from Henry and her son started towards her.

“So, what do you think, Mom?” he queried as he leaned against the gunwale.

She smiled at him. “I think we’re home. And I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to see our family again.”

“Agreed,” he said, staring at the castle that was growing ever closer. Just a few minutes later, they were able to make out the dock at the back of the castle. Emma couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that there didn’t appear to be anyone to meet them. Wouldn’t someone have seen them coming from the towers of the palace?

Killian carefully brought the Jolly into berth as Henry secured the ship to the dock. Just as they were making their way down the gangplank, the Blue Fairy appeared before them. She gave a small bow before speaking.

“Thank you, Captain,” she began, “for bringing the Savior home.” Suddenly, the fairy pulled a small vial out of mid-air, uncorked it, and tossed its contents onto Emma.

Emma was frozen in place. Fear gripped her as she heard Killian and Henry shout, Killian drawing his sword in her defense, Henry’s face a mask of shock and dismay. Before Killian could reach the fairy, she waved her wand and a blue cloud of magic enveloped her and the magical being. Moments later, she found herself in a dark cave lit only by torch light. It took a few moments before she could see well enough to realize it was the same cave prison that Killian had left her in before she and her mother had made it back to Storybrooke. Only this time, it was the Blue Fairy on the other side of the bars, not her True Love and Cora. Emma lunged at the bars.

“What are you doing?” she shouted.

Emma stared at the fairy, stunned. She looked sad, apologetic almost, for her actions, at the state Emma found herself in. She rattled the bars in anger. “Answer me! What have you done? Where are my parents?”

“Your parents are fine, Your Highness.” Emma huffed at the fairy’s use of her title.

“Why are you calling me “Your Highness” if you’ve put me in this dungeon?” Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on her captor.

“Because you are still the Princess in this land, and I’m truly sorry to have to do this.” And with that enigmatic statement, the Blue Fairy disappeared. Emma shook the bars before her again and shouted as loudly as she could. There was no response. She turned and looked around, trying to think of anything that she could possibly do to get out. Trying to use magic was useless. She at least remembered that much from her previous imprisonment. The light from the torch just outside the cell reflected off of something lodged into a crevice in the rock wall. Walking over to it, she saw it was a small mirror. Pulling it out, the glass was suddenly filled with a purple smoke before a dark skinned, kindly, ageless face appeared.

“Hello, Savior,” he greeted her.

Emma couldn’t keep the shocked surprise out of her voice. “Who are you? How do you know who I am?”

“Who I am doesn’t matter, Savior, but yes, I know exactly who you are, Emma Swan,” he intoned. “And I also know what the Blue Fairy is doing.”

It took Emma a moment to absorb what he just said. “You do? Why?” she asked, “She is supposed to be one of my parents closest friends and advisors. Why would she do this?”

His bottomless brown eyes grew sad as he answered her. “I have watched the Blue Fairy for many years, since long before you were born. She has forsaken her duty of protecting your family. It is my responsibility to rein her in, to deprive her of the source of her power and now that she is back in a realm with magic, I am able to do so.”

“Are you taking her magic?” Emma queried.

The man smiled enigmatically. “When she realized that her magic was weakening, she sent Killian to bring you home.”

“She gave me the dream so that I would recognize Killian when he got there,” she breathed. “She repositioned Cygnus, both here and in my world, so that he could find me.”

He nodded slowly. “Indeed.”

Emma looked back at the bars. “Can you help me get out of here?”

“I cannot help you escape beyond what I’ve already done. You have the means at your disposal. Good luck, Savior.” Magic began to swirl in the mirror.

“Wait,” Emma cried, “Who are you?”

“I am Merlin. Don’t you know me?” he answered with a smile before he disappeared in a swirl of smoke.

Emma stared at the glass before her, not knowing what to do. She remembered what Rumplestiltskin had told her when they had all returned from New York after she found Neal. That magic was not an intellectual endeavor. She had to feel it. Squaring her shoulders, taking a deep breath, and shutting her eyes, she thought of Killian and Henry and how much she loved them and wanted to be with them again.

She opened her eyes again to see her two favorite people smiling at her. Her own face broke into a grin. “Swan,” Killian cried, “Are you alright? Where are you?”

“I’m below the castle in the dungeon. In Rumple’s cell,” she explained. “Where’s Mom and Dad? And Regina?”

“We’re here, Emma,” her mother called. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re alright,” she exclaimed, pushing her way into the mirror’s glass. Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t believe you’re really here! And that Blue would do this!”

“Merlin gave me this mirror so we could communicate. She’s trying to steal my magic because he’s been draining hers for her failure in upholding her duty to our family.”

Snow’s face was an “O” of shocked disbelief. Regina appeared in the mirror. “So what do we do?” she asked. “We obviously can’t trust the Blue Fairy anymore.”

“Merlin said that I have the tools at my disposal. I figured out what to do with the mirror. But maybe, my magic too? That’s a tool, isn’t it? Mom, Cora said that even Rumplestiltskin couldn’t escape this prison. Why? What’s so special about it?”

“We had it specially constructed and magically protected so that he could never escape. Only light and dark magic combined can weaken the enchantment.”

They turned their eyes upon Regina. “Two sides of the same coin,” Emma whispered. “Regina, you attack from outside the prison, I attack from inside. That would do it, right?”

Regina’s eyebrows rose. “It should. But what about Blue? Where is she? How do we neutralize her?”

“Regina!” Snow scolded.

Regina rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about killing her. Just neutralizing her. Taking her magic, making her unable to fight us.”

“She disappeared. I have no idea where she is. But, if she’s wanting my magic, I would assume that she won’t be gone long.”

“Maybe she’s gone to collect some kind of vessel to contain your magic in, Love,” Killian speculated.

“In that case, we need to get Emma out of there.” Emma nearly burst into tears when she heard her father in the background.

Emma wiped at her eyes furiously as Regina, Killian, Henry, and her parents all appeared before her on the other side of the bars. Emma ran for the bars trying to reach and touch all of them at once.

“Okay, okay,” Charming shouted. “The reunion will have to wait until after Emma’s free. On the count of three. One, two, three!”

Emma stepped back and held up her hands sending a stream of magic at the bars that Regina matched on the other side. White and Dark magic met and sparks flew. Emma could see her family shielding their eyes against the clash of magic and, she’d be honest, if she wasn’t one of the magic wielders, she’d be doing the same. The heat and the power that coursed through her was like nothing that she’d ever known and she was suddenly aware of why the people around her had believed in her so much and for so long. Suddenly, Killian was there, at a hole in the bars big enough for her to climb through.

At that moment, Blue appeared. Quick as an adder strike, Regina shot the fairy with a blast of dark magic, knocking her back into the cell where she had imprisoned Emma. She appeared stunned as Regina shouted, “Seal the bars, Miss Swan!”

“Do it, Mom!”

Emma shot another blast of magic at the bars, making them whole again. Regina cast a binding spell both on Blue and the cell as realization dawned on their former friend and ally.

“No!” she cried.

Snow and Charming stepped forward. “Yes. You have betrayed us in the worst possible way, Blue,” Charming said, his face hard as stone. “For that, you deserve banishment and death. However, in gratitude for your part in bringing Emma home to us, your life will not end by our hand. Once your magic is gone, you will age like the rest of us. You will remain behind bars until death sets you free. This is your punishment for the crimes against our family.” He turned to his wife, who nodded in agreement with his sentence.

Blue looked from face to face, hoping to find some glimmer of regret, a sliver of affinity in anyone’s eyes, anything that she could try to manipulate to her advantage. There was none. She bowed her head as the family turned from her in her prison and walked away.

The jubilant group emerged into the sunshine. Henry was immediately gathered in Regina’s arms, where he was overjoyed to hug his adoptive mother just as tightly as she was hugging him. Emma found herself gathered in the arms of her parents, tears flowing freely as she felt her father’s hand on the back of her head. Pulling back, astonished, Emma looked down at her mother’s very pregnant belly. It hadn’t even registered in all the action of the last few minutes until Snow gathered her close in a hug that was a year in the making. More tears spilled as Emma expressed her joy at the impending birth of her brother or sister.

Finally pulling out of her parents embrace, Emma reached out for Killian. “Mom, Dad,” she began, smiling affectionately at her True Love, “Killian brought me, brought us, home.” He took her hand, a gentle smile on his face, as she turned back toward her parents.

“We know, sweetheart,” David told her. “When Killian and Henry appeared, he was just able to tell us what happened and how he got to you. Then you appeared in the mirror.”

“Did he tell you about True Love’s Kiss bringing back my and Henry’s memories?”

David’s grin split his face. “Yes, he did. And I, we, couldn’t be happier,” he said, looking at his wife.

“We will plan an engagement and welcome home ball at once,” she exclaimed, green eyes gleaming with excitement.

Emma turned resigned and amused eyes upon her pirate. “Welcome home, Love,” he said, before leaning down and capturing her lips with his own.

“Yep, I guess I am,” she agreed.

Looking around at the faces of the people who loved her, she knew that she was home. Exactly where she wanted to be.

The End

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! I’d love to know what you think!

[stahlop]

Candy based Holidays are the bomb!

Back to CS things. Or not, really hahaha

What is the fic/whateverotherfandomthing you're most proud of and why?

Do you have a favourite fic someone else has written, or is it impossible for you to narrow down to just one?

Happy Holidays!

Santa x

My favorite fic I’ve written was my first CSSS fic back in 2019. Where the Love Light Gleams was a 3a canon divergence where Pan’s curse didn’t happen at the last minute and now Emma has to deal with her feelings regarding Hook and Neal. Also, the first time I ever wrote Emma outing Neal’s past misdeeds to her family (at Thanksgiving no less).

There are so many good fics out there. I guess I’d have to say my two favorites are See You Again (cursed Killian s1 rewrite) by @goldengirlschildhood and Separate Lives (s3b canon divergence) by @lenfaz , solely because any time I recommend them I have to go and read them again. There are a ton more, but these are the two I’ve read the most.

[daniclaytcn]

fire under her skin

fire under her skin

 Summary: "I think my magic likes you." Set in 3a. Emma realizes her magic works......differently when Hook is around.

Tagging some who may enjoy: @shady-swan-jones @snowbellewells @withheartfulloflove @capswantrue @alyssinmymind @kiwistreetswan @winterbaby89 @princesse-swan @cryingaggressively @myswan-myhappyending-mylove @kmomof4 @therooksshiningknight @fierytempestarii @captainswanfanfic @captainswancygnet @cshappybeginning @blowmiakisscolin @ohmakemeahercules @superchocovian @jonirobinson64 @several-kittens

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

It happens during their fourth day on Neverland.

 The Lost Boys ambush them at midday, shooting off poison arrows and wielding wicked lances. Emma finds herself fighting them alongside David, the strikes of her cutlass brutal and with little finesse. Regina and Rumplestilkskin wield their magic effortlessly, taking out the brunt of their assailants, while Mary Margaret brings up the rear, her arrows flying swift and true.

 Out of the corner of her eye, Emma spots a flash of metal.

 Leaving David to finish off the last of the Lost Boys circling them, Emma turns her attention to it. Her blood runs cold at the sight.

 Hook is simultaneously fighting off four Lost Boys at a time, and is visibly exhausted, his movements becoming slow and ragged.

 One slip is all it takes.

 Felix raises his spear, the tip glinting dangerously with poison; a sneer on his lips. “Goodbye, Captain.”

 Emma doesn’t think. She simply acts.

 The cutlass falls from her hand and suddenly she can feel magic, coursing through her body, making her feel like she’s being thrust into a burning fire and doused with ice water at the same time.

 “Hook!”

 Emma gives a twist of her wrist and suddenly, the weapons of the Lost Boys turn to dust. They look down at their hands, bewildered, and then another blast of magic renders them unconscious; courtesy of Regina.

 Emma slowly glances at the other woman, who looks grudgingly impressed.

 “Nice work,” Is all Regina says before she abruptly turns and walks back to the camp.

 Emma looks around at everyone else. The smirk on Gold’s face is far too knowing and calculating for Emma’s comfort. Her parents look worried and proud in the same way only parents are capable of. Neal’s expression probably stings the most; he’s looking at her with a mixture of fear and disgust.

 She purposefully avoids Hook’s gaze.

 Neal’s voice is wary when he speaks. “Was that-was that your magic?”

 “Got a problem with that?” Emma asks icily. Neal flinches, but wisely keeps his mouth shut, instead joining the others as they walk back to the camp.

 Emma makes to follow them, but is stopped by a warm hand on her shoulder.

 A shiver wracks through her body at Hook’s gentle touch. The magic in her soul is already coursing through her veins, sizzling under her skin and heightens every sense in her body. Hook’s touch is light, but it causes her heart to pound and her magic to hum…hum in satisfaction.

 Emma turns to him and tries to keep the flush from her cheeks at his proximity. “What?” She asks, her voice brusque.

 Hook gives her a soft smile, filled with gratitude and affection. “Thank you, love.”

 Emma’s magic sings, fire scorching though her veins, the effect leaving her light headed and dizzy. She has to move away, now, before she does something stupid.

 Like kiss him.

 Yeah, that would be pretty stupid.

 “You’re welcome,” Emma breathes, inwardly fighting a war with her instincts. Her mind warns her to back away, to end this before it starts; but her heart urges her to touch him, to kiss him like she had only a few days ago, to obey the wishes of her magic, which seems to delight in his presence for whatever reason.

 “Swan, are you alright?” Hook scans her worriedly, seemingly unaware of the less than decent thoughts searing through her mind. “You seem flushed.”

 Emma’s blush only deepens at his words.

 “I’m fine,” She says curtly, spinning on her heel and walking away.

 Yeah, she should definitely stay away from him.

 (Easier said than done.)

 By the time night falls, Emma has calmed down considerably, her magic a now a soothing hum under her skin and her heart slowing down to its normal rate.

 Emma glances around the camp. David and Mary Margaret are curled up together, already fast asleep, Regina is brooding in a corner, Neal and Gold are talking quietly and Hook…….

 Hook isn’t there.

 Emma hesitates for a moment.

 Going after him is a bad idea, quite possibly even worse than her kissing him before. She might have come down from her high now, but there’s no telling if her magic will begin to act up again like before.

 It’s a really, really bad idea.

 But she’s tired of not listening to her instincts, damn it.

 Five minutes later, Emma is making her way out of camp and following the tracks Hook left.

 She finds him in a small clearing, leaning against a tree, his eyes half shut as he tilts his flask to his mouth.

 Hook stills at the sound of her footsteps, stiffening momentarily before he raises a brow at her, smiling wryly. “Looking for some company, love?”

 Emma automatically rolls her eyes and shuffles closer. “I was wondering where you were,” She mumbles, and his grin grows wider. Ignoring his damned smugness, Emma holds her hand out expectantly for his flask. Hook lets out a long, exaggerated sigh but relinquishes it with no further protest.

 Before she can drink from it, however, Emma pauses, noticing that there’s a long, jagged cut stretching over his hand; inching close to his wrist. “You’re hurt.”

 Hook glances at it carelessly. “It’s nothing, lass,” He says dismissively and Emma scoffs a little.

 “Yeah, right,” Setting down the flask on a tree stump, Emma moves closer and takes his hand in hers, ignoring his sharp intake of breath as she does so, and the flames that ignite under her skin at the simple touch.

 “I can-“She pauses hesitantly, glancing up at him. “I can try and heal it. With my magic, I mean,” Fidgeting under the heat of his gaze, Emma focuses her attention on the wound. “I’ll try, I just-I don’t want to accidentally turn you into a toad or something.”

 Hook chuckles then, the sound low and husky. “I trust you,” He says quietly and Emma’s heart pounds rapidly, not because of her magic this time, but because of something else entirely.

 “Alright.” Emma breathes in deeply and cautiously moves her right hand over the cut, squeezing her eyes shut. She can feel her magic begin to rise, and white stars burn behind her eyes and there’s a whoosh and brief, pure moment where she honestly feels like she’s floating.

 Opening her eyes, a genuine grin stretches across Emma’s face when she sees that the wound has been healed completely, not even a trace of a scar left behind. She looks up at Hook and he’s smiling, too, awe and wonder in his eyes.

 “That’s bloody brilliant, love,” He praises and Emma blushes hotly, pulling away and taking a step back. Hook frowns, then.

 “You’re doing it again,” He points out. “You’re backing away. You did it right after you saved me, too.”

 Emma squirms a little, unable to form a reply. She can’t just up and say, Yeah, well, using my magic around you makes me super high and makes me want to kiss you. That’s it, no big deal.

 “Swan?” Hook prods again, and she sighs loudly, wrapping her arms around herself.

 “My magic likes you,” She mutters and he blinks in utter confusion.

 “I beg your pardon?”

 “You heard me,” Emma snaps, her face red. “My magic likes you for some goddamned reason and it makes me want to do crazy things when I’m around you and-“

 “Crazy things?” There’s an obnoxious grin on his face now, and Emma wants to slap it off. Or kiss it off. Whichever comes first. “Like what?”

 “Like kissing you,” Emma says bluntly and Hook’s jaw drops, clearly not expecting her to be so frank. “And more,” She adds meaningfully, and he actually blushes.

 She has to fight back the smile that threatens to rise at that.

 “Well, um,” Hook coughs and scratches behind his ear in a nervous tick Emma’s come to recognize. “Uh, that’s-“

 “Relax, I’m not going to going to jump you right here,” Emma says with a roll of her eyes. Hook tries to smirk at her, but fails miserably.

 “I wouldn’t complain if you did, love,” He says, but it’s hard to take him seriously when his cheeks are bright red.

 “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Emma mutters. “Come on, let’s get back to camp.”

 “Emma, wait,” Hook stops her and she almost gasps when he suddenly takes her hand in his. She’s about to ask him what the hell he wants, or pull away, or something; but then he suddenly raises her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against the sensitive skin of her wrist, shutting his eyes.

 She almost sinks into him, pleasure sizzling in her veins at the touch, a shudder wracking through her body. Hook opens his eyes lazily and meets her gaze and Emma groans when he suddenly pulls away, stepping away from her; his face full of mischief.

 “We should be getting back, love,” Hook drawls and begins to walk away. Emma stares after him, gaping in outrage, his kiss branded into her skin.

 Bastard!

 Two can play at this game, she thinks and hurries after him, determined to finish what they started.

 She’s playing with fire, but then so is he, and to hell with the consequences.

 She’s definitely not done with him.

 “You’re going to have to choose, Emma.”

 And somewhere in her heart, Emma knows she’s already chosen.

[cssns]

We’re here!!! *SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY* It’s time for the CSSNS20 Roundup!!!!

It has been quite a ride y’all... 

I just want to take a moment here at the beginning of the post to thank everyone who has ever been a part of this event from 2018 to now. Y’all are the ones who made this event what it is and I cannot be more grateful to have had the privilege of manning the helm for the past three years. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart!!! There’s been too many participants over the years to name everyone, but I have to give a shoutout to my personal support team and the mods from all three years. Each one of them has contributed in innumerable ways and this event never would have happened without each of them and their contribution. @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @katie-dub​, @thisonesatellite​ and @profdanglaisstuff​. Thank you so much ladies!!! I never could have done this without you all!!!

Now that the event is over, I want to let everyone know that I will be inviting other supernatural fic to the collection over on ao3. When I first started reading fan fiction, I stumbled across the Black Swan and Red Hooks Collection, a collection for smutty fics, that continues to grow today. I want to do the same thing with the Supernatural Summer Collection. As more supernatural fics are written, I will invite them to the collection.

We are now at the close, and it’s time to round up all the wonderful fics and art that we’ve been blessed with in this year’s event. At the end of the post, I’ll highlight all the fic from previous years that have also updated this summer.  Active MC’s will continue updating until they are finished. And without further ado, HERE WE GOOOOOOO!!!!

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

On June 1st, @itsfabianadocarmo dropped a vampire aesthetic inspired by the Countess from American Horror Story: Hotel. SOOO incredible! It gave me chills! You can find it here.

On June 3rd, I ( @kmomof4​ ) dropped Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates. I figured that since this was our last year, I should write for it for once. Breathtaking art by @spartanguard. Banner Prologue Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8

On June 6th, @demisexualemmaswan dropped By the Moon’s Rise, featuring CS as werewolves. Oh my WORD! The pack politics going on…It is off to a fantastic start and I can’t wait for more!                                                   Gorgeous art by @courtorderedcake. Killian Emma David

On June 9th, @snowbellewells dropped A Cottage By the Sea. An Enchanted Forest Lieutenant Duckling AU. The last chapter left me CHEERING and I can’t wait to see where she takes this!                                                                  Lovely art by @searchingwardrobes. 

On June 11th, @katie-dub dropped Awakening, her fic inspired by the TV show Being Human. I am not familiar with the show, but this fic, oh my WORD!!! I had no words, and so I reblogged with gifs. Can’t wait for more!!!

On June 14th, @lassluna dropped her fic, Swan’s Hourglass, a Legend of Zelda AU. I absolutely LOVE her use of the side characters and Emma is absolutely bad ass!!! Can’t wait for more!!                                                                  Beautiful Artwork by @eastwesthomeisbest.

On June 17th, @hollyethecurious​ dropped her Vampire Diary’s inspired The Craving In Between. Fun, intriguing, and SPICY!!!                                          Perfect Artwork by @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​.

On June 20, @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​ dropped her original Angel!Emma/Demon!Killian aesthetic. Absolutely PERFECT!!!

On June 23, @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​ dropped another aesthetic that I was inspired to write a fic for! The Moon… Tells the Sea is the tale of were-mermaid Emma and her mate. aesthetic on Tumblr

On June 25, @eastwesthomeisbest​ dropped original Vampire!Killian artwork His Sweet Kiss. BREATHTAKING and sooooo chilling!!!

On June 27th, @kymbersmith-90​ dropped her Soliciting for Dracula: Outtake. So GREAT to be taken back to that universe first presented during CS Halloweek last year! Original fic on Ao3 Tumblr link with art

On June 29th, @imlaxdris71​ dropped her Shadowhunters AU, The Price of Blood. I am not at all familiar with Shadowhunters, but this fic is so AWESOME already and I can’t wait for more!!!                                                                          I was thrilled to provide artwork for this incredible fic!

On July 2, @ohmightydevviepuu​ and @thisonesatellite​ posted The Sword and the Heart, their retelling of all of s5. Let me tell you, THIS is what we should have gotten on the show!!! I can’t WAIT for the next chapter!!!                         Awe-inspiring artwork by @thisonesatellite​ and @profdanglaisstuff​.

On July 5, @snowbellewells​ posted For Once, Don’t Let Go, her CS ghost story. Spooky and soooo SWEET all at once!!!                                                            Chill-inducing, perfect artwork by @hollyethecurious​.

On July 7, @stahlop​ posted Making a Memory, her fic inspired by The Parent Trap. This fic is absolutely AWESOME, y’all!!! Lisa has sucked me in to this blending of one of my all time favorite live action Disney movies and Once canon and I CANNOT WAIT for more of it!!!                                                     Lovely and perfect artwork by @gingerchangeling​.

On July 9, @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​ posted her original vampire aesthetic. Mm mm mm mm mmmmmmm!!!

On July 13, @shardminds​ posted her Witcher AU, Silver for Monsters. I have been BESIDE myself waiting for this fic, even though I’m not familiar with the show and the first chapter did not disappoint!!! Can’t wait for more!!!          Swoon-worthy artwork by @artistic-writer​.

On July 15, @eastwesthomeisbest​ posted original Fairy artwork, Within You, inspired by Carnival Row. Absolutely BREATHTAKING!!! Then on July 26, she posted Fear Me Or Love Me… It’s All the Same, and reduced me to a screaming flailing mess!

On July 18, @lovelivingmydreams​ posted Labors of Love, her Greek gods AU. This fic is fantastic and I am LOVING every bit of it!! I’ve been told to strap myself in, so I have and am eagerly waiting for the next chapter!!!            Beautiful artwork by @mariakov81​ Banner Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 

On July 21, @jarienn972​ posted La Sirena, her Siren Emma fic. A BEAUTIFUL mystery and I can’t wait to see where she goes with this!!!                      Gorgeous artwork by @courtorderedcake​.

On July 23, @shireness-says​ posted A Fate Woven in Thread and Ink, her fic inspired by The Night Circus. This fic is pure magic. Absolutely STUNNING in its beauty and I am BESIDE myself waiting for the next chapter!!!               Incredible artwork by @eirabach​. 

On July 29, @winterbythesea​ posted The Truth In a Masquerade featuring dueling CS at a vampire masquerade! WELL WORTH all the teasing we endured on the discord!

On Aug. 1, @profdanglaisstuff​ posted The Eternal and Unseen, an epic tale of fae, werewolf, and vampire coming together to defeat a common enemy. This fic is absolutely INCREDIBLE and I can’t wait for the next chapter!!!        Beautiful artwork 1 2 3 by @carpedzem​.

@xhookswenchx​ posted her werewolf MC, Waning Moon, on Aug. 2. I am soooo in LOVE with this beautiful fic and can’t wait for more of it!!!            Beautiful and precious artwork Banner 1 2 3 4 5 by @mariakov81​.

@whimsicallyenchantedrose​ posted her MC, More Than All the Jewels in the Realm on Aug. 4. Kinda a ghost/soulmate MC. You’ll see what I mean… Absolutely FANTASTIC already!!!                                                               Beautifully haunting artwork by @searchingwardrobes​.

@thejollyroger-writer​​ posted the first chapter of THE WASTELAND on Aug. 6, where the hero group goes on a magical journey to save Killian. This world she has built is INCREDIBLE and I am loving this fic soooo much!!!                    Incredible artwork 1 2 3 4 5 by @spartanguard​.

On Aug. 8, @imlaxdris71​ posted her werewolf MC, The Beast of Aurum. My heart hurts so much for Killian ALREADY!!!! I can’t wait for more!!!               Artwork by me, @kmomof4​.

On Aug. 10, @eastwesthomeisbest​ dropped original Demon Killian artwork, I’m Your Darkest Dream. Gave me CHILLS!!!

Aug. 13, @ohmightydevviepuu​ posted  From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea as part of her writersmonth2020 project. A 3a divergence that is absolutely HEART WRENCHING and BEAUTIFUL!!!                                                     Beautiful artwork by @mariakov81​ 

On Aug. 14, @spartanguard​ posted her fix it fic for West Side Story, Even Death Won’t Part Us Now, featuring CS as vampires. I am absolutely BESIDE MYSELF over this fic, y'all!!! I love it sooooo MUCH!!! Breathtaking and perfect artwork 1 2 3 by @thesschesthair​.

Aug. 18, @hollyethecurious​ posted her Sleepy Hollow AU, Some Legends are Best Kept as Legends. This fic is MAGNIFICENT and I can’t wait for more!!! Artwork by herself.

Aug. 20, @darkcolinodonorgasm​ posted her Siren Emma MC, A Song of Sin and Desire. This is gonna be an INCREDIBLE fic, y'all!!! I love it already!!! Gorgeous artwork by @artistic-writer​.

On Aug. 22, @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 posted fantastic original artwork for a fic by @teamhook​ that she posted in September, The Wolf and the Savior. The setup of this fic has me on the edge of my seat and I can’t WAIT to see what’s next!!! 

Aug. 24, @courtorderedcake​ posted her demon MC, Majestically To Far Beyond. This fic really is fun and I am LOVING it, y’all!!! Can't wait for more!!!                             Artwork by me, @kmomof4​.

Aug. 26, @cocohook38​ posted her Dark Swan/Werewolf Killian MC, I’ll Be Waiting For You By the Blood Moon. This is a FANTASTIC take on the Dark Swan and I can’t wait for more of it!!!                                                              Breathtaking artwork by @eastwesthomeisbest​.

And finally, rounding out our event on Aug. 30, @seriouslyhooked​ posted Lost Souls and Reveries: The Sequel, a continuation of her CSSNS18 fic, Lost Souls and Reveries. This first chapter was soooo precious and lovely and I can’t wait to see where she goes with this!!! Exquisite artwork by @clockadile​.

Over the course of the summer, we had several fics from previous years update, in some cases, several times! 

Until the Stars Are All Alight by @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ updated several times. Beautiful artwork by @clockadile​. This is her LOTR/CS crossover and I love it sooooo much!!!!

@kymbersmith-90​ updated both of her fics from CSSNS18, Slayer and Divine Intervention. Perfect artwork complements of @hollyethecurious​ (x) (x). Both of these fics are sooooo GREAT, even to someone who hasn’t watched either show that they were inspired by!!!

@courtorderedcake​ updated Hallow, her epic fic of Fae princess Emma and Dark One Killian. We have now journeyed to Sultana Jasmine’s court and we are closing in on the end of their journey!!! Latest Tumblr chapter link with art

@darkcolinodonorgasm​ updated One Day, her LadyHawke inspired AU that she kills me with every single chapter!!! We are now on ch5 of 7.  Tumblr ch link Beautiful Artwork by @sherlockianwhovian​

@eirabach​ rewrote her CSSNS18 submission Glow for the CS Rewritathon this spring and summer. It can be found in its entirety in the CSSNS20 collection on ao3 here. I loved it when she originally wrote it, and I loved it even more this time!!!

Well, that’s it, y’all!!!! Who would have thought when I came up with this idea almost three years ago now that we would have such participation and enthusiasm across this fabulous fandom? We have been blessed with EPIC, INCREDIBLE, GORGEOUS, BREATHTAKING, FUN, LOVELY, MAGNIFICENT fics and art these last three years!!! As I said at the top of this post, the collection on ao3 will continue to be active as well as this blog as more supernatural fics are written and shared. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for coming along on this ride with me. Y’all have all made it soooo worthwhile!!! All the love, everyone!!!

[let-it-raines]

I’ve been in such a Neverland/3a kinda mood with fic reading lately, so I figured I’d send my fave CS fic writer a prompt! Or not really a prompt... I’m giving you free reign of everything, I just want to read something from you set in that time period ❤️

@dorisquinn you flatter me so because I am the worst at writing canon and/or canon divergence, but I figured why not? I 100% went down the road of neverland smut because, well, I’ve never done that before, and I feel like that’s a right of passage here. lol. If you want something different, shoot me a message and I’ll try to figure something else out! 💕 

thanks to @shireness-says for making me sprint so that I actually wrote for once

found on ao3 | here | 

-/-

She’s quiet tonight, but really, he would never expect otherwise, especially after everything that’s managed to transpire today.

Rarely is Emma Swan a woman of many words, but now? Now when they are in the most dreaded place in all of the realms, at least to him, and she is constantly working to try to save her boy? Now she is more silent and pensive than ever, but the fire behind her emerald eyes burns just as brightly as always.

As someone often on the receiving end of her rage, he knows that look and that flame better than most.

He knows that look because he feels it too.

Or, well, he felt it, long ago, and on occasion, sparks flicker back to life, the fire igniting and burning so brightly that he thinks the inferno will begin again with no chance of being extinguished.

Yet, as he sits with his back against a hardened tree and watches Emma ignore her parents fervently talking, he knows that what he feels is not the same.

He knows that he does not have a child, no matter how much he felt like Bae was his, and while his loss stings far more than Killian is willing to admit to himself, it is not the same. It is not Emma missing Henry, constantly worried over his well-being as she keeps their little group from killing each other, and while he is not particularly fond of any of their partners in this adventure, at least he is not counting on a woman he despises and parents who blatantly do not understand him to save the one person in the world who matters most to him.

Oh, and a dastardly pirate who not a soul trusts even though his intentions are good. He swears of it, but it has been a long damn time since someone believed in him like that.

The Charmings do not seem to find him capable of living up to their namesake, but he can’t blame them. His first impression was not one he would call particularly good.

Lies, deceit, violence and the works, but he was in a different mindset then. He didn’t know these people, didn’t have any inkling as to who they were, and he had an end goal in mind that he would have done anything to accomplish.

Still would, most likely, but there’s decidedly something different now. When he wakes up, his first thought is not of vengeance. Those thoughts creep in often, but they are not everything.

He’s been given a reminder that he might be capable of more than the evil he’s been for longer than he’d care to admit.

Killian has done horrible things, has ruined lives, and he won’t pretend he has not. If Snow White can forgive the woman who ruined her life in more ways than one can count despite the Queen showing little remorse, maybe Killian can be worthy of the same kind of forgiveness.

Though, he cares little for the forgiveness of Snow or trying to get on her good side.

But he is here and helping to save Emma’s lad, and he knows this devilish island better than anyone else here.

Well, the Crocodile is wandering around here somewhere and tends to know more than he should, but Killian prefers to think of him as little as possible lest he get caught up thinking of his own vengeance and not the goal here.

Henry.

Bae’s son, which Killian still can’t quite believe.

Emma’s son.

That’s why he’s here. That is all, even if David keeps telling Killian that he is only here to seduce Emma. Killian chuckles to himself. That might be nice, but that is not his goal.

If he is to win her heart, it will not be out of any trickery or misdeeds.

If he is to win her heart, it will not be dishonestly. That hasn’t been important to him in centuries, but there she goes again, reminding him of things he has forgotten.

There’s a rustle of leaves, and Killian stops sketching words into the dirt with his hook and prepares himself for battle with one of the Lost Boys before realizing that it’s simply Emma standing from her spot.

And walking toward him.

Well, maybe he’ll be preparing for a battle of another kind then.

She settles down next to him, the tree’s width large enough for them both to have a place to rest their backs, and he can feel the heat of her skin flicker across his as her hand accidentally brushes against his own. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t explain her presence, and he silently reaches for his flask and hands it over to her. She takes it and then downs a healthy amount of rum. His preferred kind is strong, likes to burn down his throat despite his tolerance, and there’s a part of him that is always impressed by how easily Emma can handle it.

As those words flicker through his mind, he’s immediately brought back to earlier today, to his taunting and teasing. All he wanted to do was get a rise out of her. It’s simply so bloody fun to see her nose scrunch and her eyes roll, and while he’s wanted to kiss Emma for weeks now, to feel how soft her pretty pink lips are, he was not expecting her to take him up on his offer.

Then again, Emma is always surprising him.

The way she grabbed his coat and pulled him to her sent heat to his groin almost immediately, and there was a hunger in her kiss that he felt in his own. It’s been decades since he felt a fire like that deep in his belly, and Killian was reminded of just how much he likes when a woman takes charge of her own desires.

(Another reminder, another reminder, another reminder.)

He simply did not expect for his desires to turn into a want that he’s dared not hope for again.

It was a reminder that he didn’t want, that good things could happen to him, but he knows who he is to this woman and these people. He’s an outsider, and if David’s words earlier weren’t clear enough, he is not welcome amongst them.

And yet, here is this fierce woman who has been like a siren to him, calling him back when he wants to stray, sitting so close to him that her thigh keeps brushing against his own.

The jungle is quiet tonight outside of their camp. He hears no birds or other creatures, only the crackle of the fire and the words being shared between Charming and Snow White. They’ve been huddled close together ever since Snow was informed of her husband’s condition, and while it is obnoxious to have to view, Killian so wishes he’d had time like that with Liam. It’s not a happy future for the two of them, especially having to be separated from their daughter and grandson should they chose to stay here to be together, but it is a future.

There is a possibility of one, and that’s more than most people get.

It’s more than he got.  

The Queen is hidden behind a tree across camp, avoiding everyone, and truly, it should be the other way around. He’s no saint, but that woman ruined this family. He understands that a young Snow shared a secret that had horrible consequences, and while Regina was certainly a victim there, she is not one now. At least when it comes to this family. Her son is in trouble, but no one in this camp is at fault for that.

He needs to get off this damn island. It’s giving him too much time to think about people he should not be giving a second thought to.

“How does this rum never run out?” Emma suddenly asks.

She hands him the flask back, and he takes his own sip. “It’s enchanted.” “How’d you manage that?”

“I’ve gotten around.” Emma snickers, and he arches his brow. “Something funny, Swan?”

“Nope. Nothing at all.”

Killian hums and tucks the flask back into his pocket. “I’m aware of what the phrase ‘getting around’ means, love. I was in your world long enough to pick up on a few things.”

“Of course you would pick up on innuendos.”

He winks, and there’s that eye roll he so fancies. “I do my best to make sure I’m well versed in things that I need to be well versed in. Makes life easier.”

“Innuendos make your life easier?”

“When it comes to beautiful women such as you, aye.”

“Do you always flirt to get what you want?” “Why, darling, are you admitting that I’m flirting with you? Are you going to return my affections?”

She kicks at the dirt and turns away from him.

Push and pull.

Push harder. Pull further away.

That’s Emma.

“No matter,” Killian continues, waving his hand in the air in front of them. “Did you come to sit with me for any particular reason? Perhaps to get away from your parents?”

She groans next to him. “I can’t listen to it anymore. I mean, I can’t imagine how they feel, but I – you know what, never mind.”

“Pan got your tongue?”

His lips curl up at the same time that hers pull down into a frown. She is obviously not amused by him tonight.

“My apologies, milady,” he sighs before standing from his spot. The leaves rustle underneath him, but no one from the other side of the camp notices his movement. They’re all too wrapped up in their own lives.

Emma cranes her neck up to look at him, and he’s never seen someone so swan-like. She lives up to her name, but with Emma, he thinks it must be the other way around.

“Are you going somewhere?”

He tilts his head to the side. “I, too, would like to have some time away from the doting lovers and the moaning queen, so I thought I’d take a walk. I know this area well enough to know that we’re near the beach. Would you like to join me?”

Her eyes narrow and dart over to her parents and then back to him. “Is that safe?”

Killian pats his sword with his hook. “I’ve got weapons, as do you. I think we’ll be fine. C’mon, love. I know you need to have your mind taken off of things. This island will drive you insane if you don’t find something that calms you.”

Emma’s shoulders sag before she stands and steps up to him. “What was that for you?”

He swaggers closer, the magnetic field around her always pulling him those few inches forward, and then dips his head so she has a direct view of his wink. “A man likes to keep his secrets, love, but if you play your cards right, I might let you in on it.”

“Can’t you ever be straightforward about anything?”

“I find that I’m straightforward about many things. You simply never pay attention because it’s not what you want to hear.”

Killian doesn’t bother to wait for her reaction. Instead, he turns on his feels, grabs a lit lantern, and starts heading down the path they made earlier to make his way to the beach. He can hear the ocean waves already. It’s a sound that usually calms him, one that he’s nearly always searching for, but here, the echo is different. It’s loud and brash even when the waves are gentle, and he aches for the sound of the waves in the Enchanted Forest or even those of the ones in Storybrooke.

Anything other than this.

Anything.

Emma’s boots crunch behind him, and he lifts an overgrown branch until she steps underneath it and begins walking at his side. A part of him doubted that she would actually follow, but deep down, he knew the odds were more in his favor than disfavor. She’s silent as they walk, but occasionally her hand will brush against his arm, and he feels the heat of her touch spread over him.

There are no truly nefarious plans in his mind as to what they are to do on the beach once they get there, and he wouldn’t be opposed to simply watching the moonlight glint off the water. However, he knows what he was implying when he suggested them leaving the campsite, and he knows that Emma does, too.

A one-time thing, she’d said. Emma may possess a superpower for telling when others are lying, but she’s not the only one who is good at reading people.

The beach comes into view past a few vines and bushes, and Killian slashes through them with his sword before putting it back in its holster and stepping over the newly slain foliage. Emma steps behind him, following exactly in his footsteps, and then all of the sudden the sound of footsteps stop when they step onto the sand.

That was the one good thing about these beaches. It’s soft sand instead of hard pebbles.

There’s a scratch of nails down his back, a faint feeling through the thick material of his leather, and Killian twists his head to see Emma standing so close that he can see all of the freckles on her face, counting them one by one until he knows them as he knows the constellations in the sky.

He’s rather more interested in them than the constellations here.

“You were saying something about getting my mind off things?”

Killian nods and reaches his hand up to tuck her loose hair behind her ear, and his fingers ghost across her cheek, feeling the soft, velvet skin. He’s seen many a beautiful woman in his few hundred years, but there’s something different about this one that he believes might not be physical after all.

Though, she certainly is beautiful in that way.

“Aye, love, I believe I was.”

And then he dips his head and slants his mouth over hers. The initial shock is much the same as it was earlier today, but this time, it’s his turn to take charge. He gets to thread his hand into her hair first and pull her into him before she can grab onto the lapels of his coat, and he gets to control the pace. It’s fast and heady, her tongue already swiping across his bottom lip, and while he wouldn’t mind slowing it down to savor the feeling of her, that’s not what either of them need.

That’s especially not what Emma needs.

It’s been awhile since he’s done this, his taste for bar wenches fading away a long time ago, but the movements haven’t been lost on him. The push and pull, the teasing and tasting, it’s all second nature, but right now, it feels new.

Everything about this is refreshing, but he has to push those thoughts down. He’s had too many sentimental ones about Emma today, too many realizations and questions since their dalliance, and this isn’t a time to think of him yet again not getting something he craves because he isn’t good enough. This is the time to let his body take over and to forget.

That’s why they came here after all.

Emma’s hands tug on his lapels before moving to the inside of his jacket. She runs them over his chest and over the chains hanging from his neck before they settle on his shoulders. He can feel her nails much more clearly with only the thin layer of his shirt keeping her from his skin, and his eyes shut even more tightly at the feel of it all as his tongue tangles with Emma’s in slide so perfectly in sync that he doesn’t believe it’s real.

This is real, this is real, this is real.

“You tell no one of this,” Emma grunts against his lips as she works to remove his coat from his shoulders.

“Aye, I understand.” His hook tugs against her backside, and he releases his hand from her locks to help her take off his coat. It’s heavier than he would like, but it’s what he’s needed to keep warm in ports and on the deck of the Jolly over the years. Now, it will be a nice barrier between the two of them in the sand. “It will be a private dalliance between us.”

“Do you always have to talk like that?” “Like what?”

“Like you’re from a Jane Austen novel?”

“What’s that?”

That gets a smile from Emma, and maybe he’ll be destined to only make her smile when she’s teasing or feeling superior over him not knowing something about her world. For now, he’ll take it.

“She’s a writer. She writes romance.”

“Oh? You read those? I didn’t take you for the type.”

“Shut up,” she groans, pushing him down until he gets the idea and settles down on the ground. Emma sinks down onto her knees and settles on his hips before she dips her head and rejoins her lips to his. “Just be quiet, okay?”

“As you wish.”

Her mouth stills at the words, the same ones he used earlier, but then she’s continuing the kiss, and Killian can feel her over every inch of her. His skin is prickling and beginning to become sweat-soaked once more, but now that he’s without his coat, he can feel the cool breeze of the ocean wafting up onto his skin. He doesn’t know how long they lay in the sand with their mouths moving together with no destination in mind until he feels Emma’s hands near his trousers. She’s pulling apart the laces, and as her mouth breaks away for her to get more access to it, he takes the opportunity to pull at her blouse with his hook. She gasps at the touch, but she doesn’t push him away. Her skin is sun-kissed and glistening with sweat, and her chest is heaving, heart obviously beating as quickly as his is. He swears that he can feel it, but he knows that’s not true.

She’s glowing underneath the moonlight and the flickering of the lantern, and this may be the first time he’s been truly fond of the moon here in a lifetime.

There he goes thinking those thoughts again, and he swore to himself that he would not do that.

Ever tried, ever failed.

Finally, he gets her blouse down enough that he can see the roundness of her breast, and Killian groans at the sight. He’s spent more nights than he’s willing to admit dreaming about something like this, but the reality is much better.

Bloody hell.

Her hand brushes over him through his leathers, and he hisses. But the pain is good, a pleasant burn, and Killian lifts himself to lick away sweat that is gather on Emma’s collarbone. Her skin is salty on his tongue, and he savors it.

“Why the hell are your pants so frustrating?”

“I believe it takes a more patient hand.”

“I don’t have any time for patience,” she huffs, and he notices that her hands are shaking and that she really is struggling to get his leathers down. Killian takes the opportunity to lift his hips to help her, and she finally gets them tugged down, smiling as his cock juts out.

Well, maybe that’s another way he can get an elusive smile out of her.

“Aha,” she laughs, almost giddily.

“I don’t believe that’s a reaction I’ve ever had before.”

She shrugs and starts working with her own bottoms. She handles them much better than she handled his, the zipper easily tugging down and the material peeled off of her so that he can see the toned legs she possesses, all of her muscles defined.

Beautiful.

His mind simply can’t get past that.

“Yeah, well, I’m always one for new things.”

Emma kicks her trousers off until they’re resting on the sand, and she settles back on top of his hips, her softness brushing over his hardness. She’s more ready than he thought she would be, but he’s certainly not going to complain, not when he so desperately needs to be inside of her. Maybe if he’s allowed to do this again, which he doubts, he’ll be able to take the time he usually would with someone like her.

Someone who is more than a conquest.

Someone who should be treasured.

“Really, now?” he questions. “In that case – ”

She slaps his chest, and he grabs onto her hand, holding it to his chest as he chuckles.

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”

“Aye, and while I do so love a woman who takes charge, you have to let a man have a little fun.”

Her groan is frustrated as she tilts his head back, making her neck swan-like again, and all he can think is how much he wants to bite the delicate skin. But that thought is quickly dissipated when Emma takes him in hand, stroking him a few times, before guiding him into her.

Bloody fuck.

It’s better than he could ever imagine to feel her warmth stretching around him and to hear the groan straining in the back of her throat. She’s a vision like this, still half-dressed but entirely indecent, and he almost tells her so before her hands clutch at his shoulders and grab onto the chains around his neck. They’re the only cool thing about this moment, the Neverland heat and heat of their activities consuming him, and it’s a nice touch to feel the mementos he’s collected over the years.

He wishes that he had a way to collect this moment.

“Fuck,” she hisses as she begins a gentle rocking, adjusting a testing out this new position they’re now in. “Fuck.”

“At a loss for words there, Swan?” “Don’t be cocky.”

He juts his hips up at her words, and she moans, and digs her nails into his skin so hard he may bleed.

“Apologies, love,” he says, not meaning it.

In fact, he can’t keep the smile off his face. He’s sure she despises it, but Killian doesn’t care to stop himself when he hasn’t felt this good in ages.

But they’re doing this to forget, he reminds himself, not to remember.

They quickly find a rhythm that works for the both of them. Emma takes control, like he knew she would, and continually changes up how deep he enters her over and over again. It’s like she can’t figure out if she wants shallow or deep, fast or slow, and eventually he tires of it and wraps his arms around her to flip them over, careful not to hurt her with his hook. She gasps at the movement and opens her mouth to say something, but then he’s pushing into her as his mouth deliciously slants over hers.

Emma hooks her foot against his backside, pushing him further inside of her, and he can feel his heart between his ears as he finds the pace that he wants. Her nails keep scratching into his back, and Killian groans before trailing his mouth away from Emma’s to find her ear. He begins whispering to her, working around her rule of him not being loud, and when she complains, he tells her that he’s very much being quiet. Besides, he thinks that words he whispers to her keep her from protesting anymore.

He’s getting close, his high nearing the edge, and he props himself up on his left arm so he can reach between them and rub his thumb over where they’re joined. Emma lets out a long moan that he hasn’t heard before, and then he feels her fluttering, feels her falling around him.

Fuck.

The feeling nearly causes him to fall right there, but he has enough mind to pull out and take himself in hand to finish himself off since he doesn’t believe Emma has any of the potions that prevent pregnancy with her.

This was never really in either of their plans.

Going off of plan is quite possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to him on this damned island.

He’s almost there, teetering on the edge with shaky limbs, and as soon as he feels Emma’s soft hands on him, he’s gone.

Afterward, they don’t spend time lingering on the sand. Before they can catch their breaths, Emma is standing and straightening herself up, tugging her clothes down and back on, and he does the same. Though, he’s much slower than her, partially due to his hand but mostly due to the fact that he doesn’t seem to be fighting the internal war Emma is.

He knows that he just slept with a woman he fancies from time to time, while she just slept with a man she most likely still finds despicable despite them getting along rather well lately.

Nothing like a crisis to bond people.

“Thanks for that,” she finally mutters as she twists her locks back to remove them from her face. She’s flushed, the heat still lingering, and he can see the slightest bit of redness on her chest from where his beard rubbed against her. “It was…”

“Bloody satisfying.”

“Yeah,” she huffs, her lips turning up even as she looks away from him. “But also, a one-time thing. I mean that this time. Today has been complicated.”

“Aye, Swan,” Killian sighs, “whatever you say.”

He’ll respect her wishes with no hesitation, but like he thought earlier, Emma isn’t the only one who knows when someone is telling a lie.

[phiralovesloki]

Hi, this is your CS Secret Santa! I'm so excited to get to know you over the next few weeks :) Firstly, I hope you are coping with the craziness of this year, I know it has been difficult for many for several reasons but I hope my little gift will bring a little bit of happy escapism! I'll be writing a fic, so let me know what your favourite tropes are, your preferences, as well as anything that's a no-go and I can work on something you'll hopefully love. I'm looking forward to getting started!

Hi, Secret Santa! It’s nice to e-meet you!

This has indeed been a crazy year! I’ve been lucky that both my spouse and I have kept our jobs and can work from home, although doing that and handling kids at the same time has been ... ... ... ... challenging. Having a second kid during a pandemic is not advisable, no matter how damn cute they happen to be! Thank goodness for the upcoming break!

How about you? Will you have a break coming up, or just a handful of days off for any holidays? How have you been managing during this unprecedented historical fuckero? What do you miss the most about life in the Before Times? What’s been getting you through in the meantime?

I could definitely use some escapism, and I LOVE fic, so I’m thrilled! I will try to list some ideas here. I’ll put it under a cut!

- I love anything related to Hook and Emma from earlier seasons learning that they will fall in love. I’ll admit that I’ve written some of this kind of fic and had some of it written for me, so I’m already pretty spoiled! But I just really love the idea of two people resistant to the idea that they’re going to be together having to come to terms with it, or maybe even handling denial about it while they try to figure out what’s going on.

- I like tropes with a twist. For example, whenever I would get prompts that seemed like Hook or Emma should take up a particular role, I’d flip around the roles. Or I’d mash two weird tropes together and see what would shake out. Or take a trope that I felt like everyone else had done before and twist it a bit to see if it worked in a different context, or with a different ending.

- I don’t mind AUs of particular TV shows/books/movies/etc, although I do not love 1-for-1 AUs where it’s just the original piece of media, with all the same plot points and dialogue, etc., but with OUAT characters shoe-horned in. But I think that goes along with the previous point, because the piece of media itself is an expectation, and adding CS/OUAT to it can twist it up in a fun way.

- I love canon divergence a lot! My favorite is 3B divergence, although not the same as the (AMAZING) renaissance that’s been going on where Pan’s curse doesn’t happen. I like stuff where 3A ends the same way or similarly, but stuff goes sideways after that. I love it so much that my first two OUAT fics ever were both 3B divergence.

- I love the ball scene from the CS movie waaaaaay too much and cannot seem to articulate why!!

If I think of anything else, I’ll share it with you!

[ao3feed-captainswan]

Contrary to Popular Belief

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2S52NXG

by effulgentcolors

Emma and Killian are... well, he is not really sure what they are. "Courting" seems to have gone out of fashion as a term. Post-3A, except they defeated Pan's curse and stayed in Storybrooke. A belated Valentine's Day CS.

Words: 3042, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Red Riding Hood | Ruby

Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Valentine's Day, Fluff, Mild Angst

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2S52NXG

[gch1995]

I quit watching after S5 because I couldn’t stand the writing in canon for anyone anymore, and the writing had gotten so inexcusably bad for everyone by then, and would continue to get worse because Kitsowitz abd these writers never learned from their mistakes that I knew not even the “happy endings” and “redemption arcs” that they tacked on at the end would feel worth it anymore when they finally did get back there anyway. Plus, after how dramatically and horrifically low Kitsowits and these writers brought CS in 5A, I knew that they were going to pull another round of cheaply shocking, contrived, and wildly ooc character assassinations on Rumbelle, both individually and as a couple (particularly Rumple) one more time to separate them and shoehorn Rumple into the villain role by making her a wildly ooc, exceedingly cruel, hypocritical, self-righteous, and stupid bitch to trigger him, and by making him overreact like a wildly ooc, cold, controlling, and threatening jackass in response to Belle when they were forced to fight over this baby for some stupid reason. I’d already read part of the spoilers for 6A that got leaked online, and I realized that I just couldn’t handle Kitsowitz and these writers pulling another round of cheaply shocking, gross, and contrived character assassination on Rumple and Belle, both individually and as a couple, so that they could separate shoehorn Rumple into the villain role, and make Rumple look bad so that they could trick the audience into thinking that Hook/CS didn’t look that bad by comparison, which they failed in doing anyway, because even 6A Rumbelle at their worst was still better than CS at their worst.

But they’d already done more than enough damage to Rumple and Belle’s individual characterizations and relationship together in canon for Hook’s benefit ever since 4A, and I was tired of trying to futilely justify it. I just couldn’t handle another round of character assassination pulled by Kitsowitz and these writers that made them look any worse then they already had for the sake of cheaply shocking, horrifying, wildly ooc, and nonsensical contrived character derailing drama™️ for Rumbelle to shoehorn Rumple into the villain role, prop up Hook/CS as the “better” couple by comparison, and retread storylines that had already been done far better throughout S1-3A, so I finally decided to quit watching after the S5 to spare myself, and dove into the land of selectively canon/canon-divergent/AU headcanon and fanon Rumbelle that still portrayed them as the individual characters and couple I had fallen in love with from S1-S3.

Kitsowitz and these writers disrespected their own canon all the time whenever it disagreed with whatever they wanted to do, even if it didn’t make any consistent or logical sense in regards to what they had previously established as canon for these characters characterizations and/or development, their own rules of magic, and storytelling, so why should any of us in this fandom still have felt beholden to respect it when it didn’t make any sense, and our favorite characters and/or couples were being very uncharacteristically and melodramatically cartoonishly evil, stupid, and unsympathetic out of nowhere for cheap shock value to fit whatever plot they pulled from their asses?

They pulled deliberate character assassinations and retcons on Emma, Rumple, and Belle in particular post S3 ish in canon OUAT in Kitsowitz and these writers desperation and laziness to sell Hook as the “redeemed” antiheroic romantic lead by forcing him into what was originally was and should have remained Neal’s place as Emma’s love interest and the bridge that connected the original main cast together as family.

Not that I had a problem with Hook being redeemed in canon to begin with, but that Kitsowitz and these writers forced him together with Emma by romanticizing and whitewashing his creepiness with her out of nowhere to do it, killed off Neal, brought back Rumple as the flanderdized on-and-off-again cheaply shocking and contrived scapegoat “big bad,” even after giving him the most consistent, sympathetic, and well-earned redemption arc in the first two-and-a-half seasons, and deliberately ruined Rumbelle, both individually and as couple to try to sell us a Hook that was “redeemed” for being a blatantly narcissistically motivated “hero,” while still going back to blatantly being a dick whenever he could find an excuse to be a bully, seek vengeance, and revert. Except by S4-S5, he was now being “justified” and/or whitewashed in the narrative for going back to being a poorly motivated and vengeful dick whenever he had the opportunity, and was even given a gold star of being a “hero” for deciding not to go through with his entirely shady and criminal scheme of trying to murder everyone in town because his girlfriend pissed him off by bringing him back as a DO. Okay, sure, he had every right to be pissed off at Emma for doing that against her wishes, regardless of her good intentions at the time, but that doesn’t mean you do a complete heel-face turn and go on a cartoonishly evil and obsessive quest to cold bloodedly murder her friends and family for vengeance. You dump her, and tell her that she fucked up for bringing you back as a DO, even if you understand she meant well. You don’t react like a vengeful sociopath, and try to murder her friends and family because you “want to hurt her.”

That being said, I don’t think the show’s steep decline in quality after the Neverland arc all had to do with Hook’s inorganic promotion to “romantic lead” either. There were signs of abuse apology, creator pet favoritism (of Regina and Hook), whitewashing, sexism, classism, racism, rape culture, retcons, ooc moments, and ridiculous contrivances, plot holes, and twists forcing these characters in directions inorganically starting to show up as early on as S2, or even late S1.

Kitsowitz and these writers clearly only had two-and-a-half seasons (S1-3A) of story and development to tell for Emma, Regina, Rumple, and Snow, who were their original core lead characters. Once they got them there at the end of 3A, they had no idea what else they were supposed to do with any of them, Hook, Belle, Neal, or any of their other remaining main characters and relationships, they broke the previously established rules of their own universe to bring back Rumple, killed off Neal, butchered Emma, Rumple, and Belle’s original sympathetic characterizations to lazily and manipulatively sell Hook as “redeemed” without having to put in any effort to actually make him an organically sympathetic character in his own right worthy of the redemption he was handed, and retconned everyone in the remaining main cast’s previously established growth from S1-S3A to retread it over and over and over again by giving them all Aesop’s Amnesia (forgetting previously learned lessons from past bad choices, mistakes, and experience) over and over and over again to force them through the hoops all over again.

Reblog if you think CaptainSwan ruined OUAT

I hope this shit show is in it’s end

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 30: New York Christmas Serenade (3/4)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1825

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 31 32

New York Christmas Serenade (pt. 3 of 4)

CS Genre: Canon Divergence (missing year between 3a and 3b)

“Mom!  Wake up!” Henry said, shaking her shoulder.  “It’s Christmas morning!”

Emma groaned as she woke up.  It was early.  Way too early.  By the look of the sky from her bedroom window, it would still be Christmas morning for another several hours yet.  It could barely even be called dawn.

“Alright, Kid, I’m up,” she said on a yawn, reaching for her robe and slippers.  “I know you’re all about opening the rest of your presents, but you’re going to have to wait for the coffee to brew.  You know I’m not awake before I’ve had my first two cups.”

“Don’t worry about that!” Henry said, “Killian already made coffee.  Now he’s working on breakfast.”

Emma froze.  Killian.  How had she forgotten the handsome stranger was still there?

Not long after Henry opened his gifts, Emma had glanced out the window to see it snowing with a vengeance.  Turning on the TV, she quickly found out why.  They were in the opening stages of a monster blizzard.

Emma shot Killian a concerned look.  “You have a place to stay?” she asked.  “Your home close?”

“I’m afraid not, love,” Killian said.  “I’ve yet to secure lodgings for myself.  It’s no matter, though.  I’ve weathered many a storm.”

The thought of turning him out into the blizzard had seemed beyond heartless.  Who let a guest of theirs go out and freeze to death in a blizzard?  Particularly one her son seemed to have an inexplicable bond with—especially after getting that storybook?  Particularly one she felt such a tie to. 

“Look,” she’d said stiffly.  “It’s nasty out there.  If you want, you can crash on our couch.  Can’t guarantee it’s the most comfortable bed you’ll ever sleep on, but it’s bound to be better than wandering around on the streets of New York in the middle of a blizzard, right?”

His eyes had lit up as though she’d offered him the best gift of his life.  “It would be an honor to sleep on your couch, Swan,” he’d said in wonder.  “You’ve no idea how much it means to me that you’ve offered.”

Now, in the (still barely there) light of day, Emma began to second guess her magnanimous gesture.  What did she even know about this Killian guy really?  What kind of a mother lets a strange guy—who could be a serial killer for all she knew—crash on her couch with her son in the apartment.

You’re safe with him.  He’d never harm you.

Now where had that thought come from?  It made no sense that she’d know that, but somehow she could feel the truth of the statement all the way to her bones.  Killian Jones was no threat to her or to Henry.

(Well…except perhaps to her heart.  Only one night in the man’s company—one very platonic night—and she could already feel herself falling for him.  What was with her?  Emma Swan did not get crushes like that!  She had her heart locked up as tightly as Fort Knox.  No way she lets feelings in!)

Emma took a tentative step from her bedroom and couldn’t help the groan of appreciation that escaped her.  It smelled amazing out there.  Coffee—strong coffee from the scent of it—percolating, bacon sizzling, pancakes on the griddle.  She took it back.  Not only was Killian no threat to her, she may have to just invite him to live with the two of them.

“Morning love,” He called with a cheery smile—how did he look that chipper after only getting a few hours of sleep on a lumpy sofa?  “I trust you slept well?”

“What little amount of time the kid let me sleep,” she said on a yawn.  “He’s lucky it’s Christmas or no way I’d let him get away with waking me up at the butt crack of dawn.”

Killian chuckled.  “No I suppose not.  I know full well a man is taking his life in his hands when he wakes you.  There was one morning on Never…er…I mean…you look like someone who enjoys her sleep.”

“Nice recovery,” Henry said under his breath.  “Making her think you’re crazy is definitely not how you make headway with Operation Captain Swan.”

“Never?  Operation Captain Swan?” Emma asked in bewilderment.  “What are the two of you talking about?  How do you know my sleeping habits?  And when did you and Henry suddenly become best friends? ”

“Not to worry, Swan,” Killian said, scratching away at that spot on his neck again.  “This morning the lad merely told me that the way to your heart is through your stomach.”

“The way to my…Are you…are you saying you want to get to my heart?” No way she was telling him that very organ was pounding so hard at the very notion she was surprised he couldn’t hear it.

In a blink Killian’s embarrassment faded away to be replaced by pure flirtatious mischief.  “Oh darling.  You have no idea,” he purred.

She held his gaze for as long as she could (which…ended up being less than five seconds), and then she hid behind her favorite defense—sarcasm.  “Yeah, well, you gonna take that bacon out of the pan or just let it burn while you act like an idiot?”

He shot her a wounded look.  “Of course I had no intention of burning your victuals, Swan!  It took me quite some time to determine the proper way to utilize your cooking box, and now that I have, I have no intention of ruining a perfectly good breakfast.”

“It’s called a stove, Hook,” Henry muttered under his breath.

Seriously, when did the two of them become all buddy-buddy?  And where was this guy from that he didn’t even know what a stove was?

She had no further time to ponder the big questions of her life, though, as Killian slid a plate of food and a mug of coffee in her direction.  At the first bite, Emma moaned in ecstasy.  The man could cook.

Looking up, she caught the positively sinful look in Killian’s eye.  “I quite like that sound Darling.  Perhaps I might endeavor to elicit it once more…sometime when we’re alone.”

“La, la, la,” Henry said, sticking his fingers in his ears.  “Kid in the room guys!”

Emma felt her face flame, so she did the only reasonable thing, she turned a withering glare at the idiot in leather currently seated at the head of the table.  “In your dreams Jones.”

“You have no idea.”

Emma glared again, expecting to see the same sinful look in his eyes, but what she found instead floored her.  Pure, unvarnished longing.  It was the look of a man desperately in love.  One who feared he’d never have a chance with the girl of his dreams.

The look called to her, and she suddenly had the insane urge to reach over, grab his hand and reassure him that he would find happiness one day.

Fortunately her hand closest to Killian was currently occupied shoveling as much food as possible into her mouth.

Breakfast was a short affair, eaten hastily.  While Henry was normally a pretty patient kid, waiting to open presents on Christmas morning would test the patience of any kid.

“Why don’t you go get your presents organized,” Emma said, getting to her feet.  “I’ll just take care of these dishes and I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Nonsense, Swan,”  Killian said with a hand to her arm…a soft pat that felt almost like a caress.  “Go have Christmas morning with your son.  I’m perfectly capable of righting the galley.”

“You sure?  I hate to have you cook breakfast and then stick you with dishes too.”

“Aye,” he said with a tender smile.  “Believe me when I say your happiness…yours and your lad’s…ensure my happiness.”

She smiled, impulsively reaching over and squeezing his hand.  “Thanks.”

“You are most welcome.”

The following hour passed in a veritable blur, Henry moving from present to present.  She supposed maybe she spoiled him with all the Christmas gifts she’d gotten him, but he was such a good kid and so genuinely grateful for everything he got.  And then, of course, there was always that little lost girl inside of her that would never forget what it was like to wake up on Christmas morning to a bare tree and a lack of family.  If it made her go a little overboard with her kid…that was just the way it was.

Just as the last gift—a brand new journal and gel pen (the kid liked to write)—was unwrapped, the couch seat beside her sagged, and Emma looked over to see Killian by her side.  Not only by by her side, but close enough she could feel the heat of his body against her.  It was…distracting to say the least.

“Um…” she said, clearing her throat and trying not to sound like a complete fool, “I guess that’s it.  The gifts are all unwrapped.”

“Not quite, Swan,” he said in a low, caressing voice.  “I’ve one yet to bestow on you.”

“Me?” she asked.  “You got me a gift?”

“Aye,” he said with a nod, turning away to rummage through his satchel once again.  I saw this and thought of you.”

“Th…thank you,” she said, taking the long, thin velvet-covered box he held out to her.  Opening it, she found a diamond and opal pendant in the shape of a swan attached to a fine, silver chain.  It was gorgeous.

“I know you don’t remember, love,” he said softly, “but this pendant reminds me of our first adventure…one of the most satisfying adventures of my life, and it belongs with no one but you.”

“The beanstalk!:” Henry said from his place on the floor, still surrounded by his Christmas loot.  “It reminds you of the beanstalk.”

“Aye,” Killian said.  “That it does indeed.”

It should have been completely nonsensical this conversation her son was having with her…pirate (No!  Not her pirate!), but somehow it simply wasn’t.  Something deep within her wanted to nod along and agree with them.

Before she could second guess herself, Emma leaned over and impulsively hugged Killian.  “Thanks!  I love it.  And…I mean, it’s still snowing out there.  If you, you know, want to keep crashing on the couch for the next few days, I’m okay with that.”

Notes:  I wanted to give Emma’s perspective on the things going on, but unfortunately, that didn’t give me an opportunity to show any post-memory gain conversations between Henry and Killian—or explain what Henry meant by “Operation Captain Swan”.  Don’t worry, all will be revealed in the fourth (and last) section of this little story.

–Up next: We learn what kind of plots Emma’s boys have hatched to help her remember—and whether or not they’re successful.  As New Year’s Eve arrives, Henry tells Killian about a certain midnight-on-New-Year’s-Eve tradition in the Land Without Magic.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[ohmightydevviepuu]

imperfect boys. perfect ploys. (this is a song about tragedy) [6/6]

“My ‘story’ is that I left a fucked-up situation and it kind of fucked me up,” he’d said.  But it was the way he’d said it, like it hadn’t broken him.  Like it was just a fact. But Emma’s life was a story, too.  A fucked-up situation that had kind of fucked her up.  She wasn’t that kid anymore.  Confidence could be learned.  And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t broken, either. Not if she picked up the pieces.  Not if she told herself a new story.  About who she was.  About what she wanted.  Roots, family, friends, a sense of the familiar—these did not have to be fairy tales. “You owe it to yourself,” Mary Margaret said. “Happy endings always start with hope.”

–

S3 post-neverland canon divergence. 20k of no-curse renaissance.

read it on AO3

to @wistfulcynic and @thisonesatellite who sat with me while we daydreamed on a hilltop in cornwall on the summer-iest summer day england has ever seen. it took me eight months but i got there in the end.

thank you to @shireness-says for time and feedback and kindness to the IAS @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @idoltina @initiala @thejollyroger-writer @phiralovesloki for always giving me a cheer when i needed it

--

seventeen. 'and straight on 'til morning'

The girl, Wendy, insisted on helping Neal to gather Henry’s belongings and stayed at his side for the entire walk to the Jolly Roger.  It was a race against a clock that was suddenly very real in this place where time did not exist, every second another precious tick against Henry’s life.

The boy looked very small in his father’s arms and smaller still once laid out on the deck to await the arrival of his mothers.  The Lost Boys were settled against the bulkheads and Killian had sent David below deck to sort out cabins and sleeping arrangements for himself and his family.

Any moment, the women would return; the Jolly Roger awaited her departure.

That left Killian and Neal standing side-by-side at the helm for the first time since Bae had left.  Neal’s fingers worried at the scratches in the wood.  “You sailed her well when you took the Jolly Roger from me in New York,” Killian said.  

“I learned from the best.  Isn’t that what you would say?”  Neal sighed.  “How did we get here, Hook?  How does this end?”

Killian glanced at Henry.  “Emma swore she would bring back Henry’s heart.  And I’m not sure any of those women know how to fail, especially her.”  

“Yeah, she’s—”  Neal sighed again.  “She’s really something.”

“She’s a hero,” Killian said.  “And an extraordinary woman.  She will return, and we will sail home.”

“We, huh?”  Neal’s eyebrow twitched.  “What’s it feel like, to be one of the good guys?”

“Am I?”

“I don’t know, Hook.  Are you?  You know I need to do this.  I need to fight for her.  A man who refuses to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.”

“Aye.”  Killian pinched the bridge of his nose.  “And Emma deserves someone who will fight for her.”

“So does that mean you’re gonna stand in my way?”

“I am in your way.  You and I, we’ve gotten caught up in so much nonsense—over a woman.  That’s not what I want for us.  Or her.  I won’t interfere in your fight, Neal.  I will let Emma make her own decision, and I will respect it.”

Neal held out his hand.  Killian took it.  They shook.

And then they heard the commotion.  Regina yelling at the top of her very commanding voice.  “Henry!”

And Emma:  “Henry?  Where is he?”

“He’s over here!” Neal and Killian met the mothers at Henry’s side.  David nearly tripped coming up the companionway.  

All they could do was watch as Regina pushed her son’s heart back into his body.  Watch, and wait.  Killian’s own breath felt like a weight in his chest as he watched for the boy’s.

“Are we too late?” Emma whispered.

With a sickening cough, Henry came awake.  His eyes opened and he tried to sit up—too quickly, which made him cough again.

“Whoa.  Whoa, whoa—take it easy, buddy.  Take a breath.  We’re here.  We’re all here.”  Neal’s voice wavered as if he was holding back tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Henry said.  “I just wanted to save the magic.  I wanted to be a hero.”  He looked at Emma.  “Like you, mom.”

“It’s okay,” Emma said.  “It’s okay, Henry.”

“There’s plenty of time for that.” David gripped him on the shoulder. 

“Right now, it’s time to rest,” Snow White said.

Killian’s relief filled him.  His smile hurt.  “Welcome back, lad.  Only the best for our guest of honor.  Captain’s quarters, I think?”

“Come on.  I’ll tuck you in.”  Regina’s hand shook as she pulled Henry tightly against her and led him away.

--

Killian kept himself at the helm and away from the family dramas unfolding before him.  The ship was ready; there was little for him to do but wait.  And watch.  The Lost Boys were scattered on the forecastle but the poop was cluttered with Emma and the Charmings and a box containing the Dark One.

Would that he would stay so contained.

But Neal appeared nervous--eager.  Held the box tightly in his hand as he shuffled on his feet, preparing himself for the enormity of what he was about to do.  Killian saw him dart a glance at Emma—stock-still, her expression etched in stone.  Behind her the Charmings clutched at each other with the waterskin pressed between them and waited.

David turned, slightly, and caught Killian’s eye.  Nodded.  That was when Killian realized he was holding his breath and forced himself to expel it.  Released his grip on the wheel.

With a twist of his wrist Neal opened the box and for an instant the very air stopped moving.  The starlight dimmed.  Everything seemed to vibrate and there, on the deck of the Jolly Roger, stood the Dark One; Killian hated how grateful he was for it.

Neal pulled his father into his arms and Emma seemed to collapse.  Her shoulders sagged, her spine curved.  Her mouth moved for several seconds with no sound before she said, “He’s back.  That means—”

David could go home.  They could all go home—Emma’s entire family.

Killian grinned.  Emma Swan never failed.

The prince laughed.  “He can cure me.”

Snow White was nearly sobbing.  “We can go home?”  Emma flinched when her mother grabbed her , frozen, before collapsing again—further—into the embrace.  “A family.”  David’s hand gently cradled the back of Emma’s head.

Regina emerged from the companionway and took in the group hug with a roll of her eyes.  Emma extracted herself from her parents and looked at Killian—he tipped his head—then Neal, who straightened and removed the tied-up coconut from the strap of his cutlass.

“Can we get a move on?” Regina was as patient as ever.  “You—get over here.”  This was said to Neal.

“You think it will fly?” Emma said.

“It has no choice,” Regina said.  Grim satisfaction tinged her words as she held herself ready for the spell.  “Light it.”

Emma reached for the cannon fuse with her lighter—no magic—and Neal held the coconut steady.

“Now,” Regina commanded, and Neal obeyed; the Shadow was caught by the cannon and by the magic and trapped in the sail.  The fabric changed from white to black and filled with invisible wind and momentum as the Shadow strained to move.

“Let’s get the hell out of Neverland,” Emma said.

“As you wish,” Killian said.  “Prepare to weigh anchor!”  The magic of the ship responded to his order and shifted immediately with a tilt skyward.  Propelled by the Shadow, they were soon airborne.  Airborne, and free.  

David and Emma murmured to each other on the deck as Snow White dug into the remainder of their stores and began making a round of the Lost, offering them bits of food or sips of water.  Wendy pulled her dressing-gown more tightly around herself and made her way toward Tink.  When Bae—Neal joined them, the tiny girl wrapped herself around him.  Regina stood amidships along the starboard side—alone—until Tinker Bell moved to stand beside her.

Killian watched them.  He was alone at the helm and it stayed that way as, one by one, the assorted passengers of the Jolly Roger took themselves to the cabins assigned them by Prince Charming.  The Lost huddled together on the fo’c’s’le, sleeping in stunned silence.  The only sound aloft in the night air was the pleasing rush of fresh, cold wind as they sailed.

Emma was the last to take herself below.  For a while she stood there, only moving to tuck her hair behind her ears.  Over and again as the wind immediately whipped it into a tangle and she said nothing, did nothing, until finally she turned and looked up at him.  Taking him in from his brows to his boots.

Killian watched her and felt the hunger rise up inside him.  The need.  The desire.  It was unfamiliar and aching and it hit him with a force.  They had retrieved the boy and his promise, if there was such a thing, was fulfilled.  But with so much unresolved he held fast to what he had said to Neal—he would fight.  And he would let Emma make her decision.

He might as well have spoken the words out loud—Emma blinked, and turned away.  It was difficult not to take that as an answer but Killian turned his gaze skyward again as Emma made her way carefully through the companionway and down to the crew quarters.

Alone.

A shiver ran through him, right through the edge of his coat; it was a shock to feel the weather again.  A sign of his exhaustion, no doubt.  It was past time for sleeping.  Even Neal was sprawled on the deck, in between Tinker Bell and Wendy.  Killian locked the wheel on its course and left the magic to guide them through to the morning.  They’d nearly be home by then.

Home?  Killian chuckled unkindly to himself.  The Jolly Roger was his home, hell or high water.  He stifled a yawn and headed toward the cabin Dave had set aside for him—stopping at his usual quarters to check in on Henry, pleasantly surprised when Regina tolerated his intrusion.  Her hand was wrapped around her son’s as she mouthed the words to a story.

He hesitated outside the cabin assigned to Emma, his hook poised to knock on the door, but it was dead quiet and she hadn’t slept, either.  Killian took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose and took himself to his cabin.

Emma Swan was sitting in the candlelight—waiting—though she stood immediately when he entered.  He opened his mouth but no words came out.  He couldn’t even breathe.

She grabbed him.  She kissed him.  Again, again—all he could taste was her—until he was gasping for air, desperate, unmade.  She flicked her wrist, and the door slammed shut behind him.

--

For one shining second everything snapped into focus.

Like magic.

She could feel it.  Every nerve in her body was alive.  Dancing.  On fire.  Everywhere they touched hummed with power.  Emma wanted to laugh.  To scream.  To cry.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, pulling away.

“Wait, what?” What was he apologizing for?  She’d kissed him.  She’d wanted to.  God, she’d wanted to.  She just hadn’t wanted to let herself.  There had been too much on the line.

And Henry.

But they were on their way home.  Together.  A family.  And Henry was fine.  Alive, and whole.  Just like he’d said.  They hadn’t failed.  

They’d been a team.

“Hook?  Killian?”

He smiled—sort of.  His mouth moved, half-up at one corner.  It did not reach his eyes.  “I want this.  I want you,” he said.  “When you say my name—I want to make you scream it.”

“And I’m here to take you up on that,” Emma said, but she stepped back, too.  She wasn’t going to beg.  She wasn’t going to—

His grip on her wrist was soft, and sure, and gentle.  It centered her.  When was the last time someone had touched her like that?  So easily?  With such care?  When was the last time she’d let them?

“Emma.”  It was a whisper.  It was a caress.  His thumb slipped under the cords of leather wrapped around her wrist—right at her pulse point—she felt it everywhere.  Everywhere.  “My foolishness almost got us killed in the Dark Hollow,” he said.  “I don’t make a habit of this. I apologize, unreservedly.  My behavior with Neal was inexcusable.”

“Me and Neal—we’re not—”

“I know,” he said.  She liked the way he said it.  Like it was just that simple.  She also liked that he did not let go her wrist as he spoke.  “And that is not the kind of man I want to be.  But it was nonetheless an uncomfortable reminder.”

“Of what?”

His hand moved.  His thumb played with the ring on his first finger.  “Villains don’t get happy endings.  And I have been—I am—a villain.  Seeing you two together so soon after what we had shared—”

“It was just a kiss,” she said.  A lie, and he knew it.  He knew it as well and as easily as she knew that he spoke nothing but the truth. “Killian—” his hand stilled “—we wouldn’t be here now without you.  My father is alive because of you.  We saved Henry because you helped.”  

He blushed, and looked away.

“Thank you, Killian.  For coming back.”

“It was the right thing to do.”  He shifted.  “I just wish I had done it sooner.  I’m sorry.”

Emma leaned forward, slowly.  Forced him to look her in the eye.  “Trust me, you have a mark in the hero column.”  And then she kissed him.  Again.

Slowly.

Savoring it.

She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled herself closer.  Teased her tongue against his lips.  The sound he made was pure pleasure and he moved, his fingers threading through her hair.  Brushing against her cheek as one kiss became two.  Then three.  She stepped back, slightly, and smiled.  Killian’s fingers moved to trace her lips and he leaned forward, fusing their mouths together.

One kiss.  Another.  Three.

Then the kiss changed and she stopped counting.  His tongue slid into her mouth.  Greedy.  Heated.  His arms wrapped around her and she felt protected—precious—safe—as his mouth wandered, kissing a path across her jaw and down her neck.  Emma exhaled a noise that might have been his name.  The cool metal of his hook played at the hem of her top and his hand fingered the edge of her bra, pulling at the strap.  “May I remove this?”

Always a gentleman.

Emma unclasped it and tossed it aside, along with her top.  She watched him as he removed his coat and then it was her turn, her fingers working at the buttons of his vest and the laces of his shirt.  His eyes trailed every movement with searing intensity and then he lifted her.  “I would like to take you to bed.”

“And I would like to hear you scream,” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“As you wish.”

--

 Sated.  Spent.  Fucking exhausted.  Emma cocooned herself in the blanket; nestled more deeply into the pillow.  “My parents want me to get back together with Neal,” she said.

His fingers, idly tracing patterns on her back, froze.

“They didn’t even ask me,” she said.  “They just assumed.  True Love.  Yadda yadda.”

“I see.”  She reached for him but he twisted away from her, maneuvering himself until he was sitting up, his feet squarely on the floor, his back to her—inked and muscled, and twitching when she ran her finger up his spine. 

“Killian?”

He shivered when she said his name but his words, when he spoke, were strained.  Almost formal.  “A one-time thing.  I quite understand.”

“No.  No, Killian, that’s not—” Emma sat up, pulling the blanket with her.  He was so beautiful and had a confidence in his body and his nakedness that she was not feeling.  Not when he said that.  “That’s not what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“About Neal?” She shrugged.  “Yes.  He broke my heart.”

Killian gave a hoarse chuckle.  He smoothed his hand down his face.  He did not look at her.   “He did.”  

“Neal left.  My parents left.  Graham—” she caught her breath.  “Everyone I’ve ever cared about.”

“Me.”

She nodded.  Took a deep breath and moved.  Touched him.  Let her hands roam and feel the warmth of his skin and the tension beneath.  Turned him to face her and dropped her head to his shoulder.  “I left you first,” she said.  “That’s what I do.  That’s what Neal taught me.  I don’t want to go back to that.  I want to be a part of something.  Aside from Henry, I don’t think I ever have.”

“But you could.”  His arm came around her.  She reached up and threaded her fingers through his.  “Is that what you want?  Or is that what you are afraid of?”

“Both,” she said.

“I would follow you to the end of the world, love.  And back again.  Which are you asking of me?”

“I’m asking you to stay,” Emma said.  Her body hummed as she said it—  focused.  Powerful.  “I want to try something new.  You’re not a villain, Killian.  You’re not a monster.  Your happy ending—”  

Killian smiled.  A breathtaking, beautiful, hopeful smile.  “It’s you,” he said.  “Don’t you know, Emma?  It’s you.”

Every candle in the cabin flared.  He laughed.  His arm hooked around her waist and in less than a second he had her on her back, crowding her, his nose  and his face buried against her neck until his breath tickled.  His hand went to her breasts and when she reached for him, his hook caught her wrists and brought her hands above her head.  His fingers danced along her stomach, her muscles tense. Killian’s forehead pressed against hers, his eyes lit up in the night as she shivered and shook under his slow, gentle caress—as his touch slipped between her legs—as he kissed her, teasing—“Please,” she gasped.

It was the ‘please’ that did it.  His fingers twisted and the world around her went white; she came down slowly, letting herself melt into the bed.  His arms.  She was in a haze, in a place between sleeping and awake.  She felt like she could say anything and be understood.

It was an entirely new feeling.

She liked it.

“I don’t want to tell my parents,” she said.  “My father and mo—Mary Margaret.  About this.  About us.”

“You needn’t protect me from your father, love,” he said, amused.  “He’s made his opinions clear.  Called me names.  Meant a lot of them, I think.  But Dave and I, we’ve arrived at an understanding.  I’m more worried about Snow White.  She’s a fair hand with that bow.”

“I don’t need their permission.  Neither do you.”

“You’re angry with them,” he said.  “Aye, you’ve a right to be.”

Emma shifted to face him head-on, resting herself on his chest.  Inked—like his back—muscled, strong.  Her hands made a pillow and she set her chin down; their eyes met.  “I’m tired,” she said.

“Aye,” he said, slowly.  “You’ve a right to be.”

“I’m so tired, Killian.  And if I tell them then they’re just gonna try to convince me how much they know better.  I don’t want to fight or explain.  I just want them to understand.  Just once.”  Emma laid her head down on her hand-pillow and listened to his heartbeat.  Closed her eyes.

“You have a plan,” he said.

“Maybe,” she murmured.  She was so drowsy.  So comfortable.  “Maybe I do.  Will you trust me?”

“Yes.”

One eye opened.  “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”  Killian leaned forward and kissed her forehead.  Her cheek.  The corner of her mouth.  “It will be daylight soon.  We’re nearly home.”  His hand smoothed her hair as he slid out from underneath her.  

She was asleep before he was gone, the word ringing in her dreams.

Home.

eighteen. 'happily ever after'

Mrs. Lucas greeted him with a very particular—knowing—look as he walked into the diner, the bell over the door heralding his arrival just a few minutes after the device in his pocket had made a noise. A text: They know. Granny’s.

Eloquent, Emma Swan was not.

He’d replaced the device—the phone—in his pocket and hurried, though he affected nonchalance as he pushed the door open. Mrs. Lucas was not fooled. Her face lit up in what could only be described as glee. “Leroy owes me ten bucks,” she said. “How did you pull it off?”

Killian carefully settled himself on a barstool before he leaned forward, beckoning her with a finger. Raising his eyebrows. Making a show of looking around before he answered. “Magic,” he whispered.

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Her laugh was short and sharp, like a bark.

“Now, Mrs. Lucas”—Killian raised his eyebrow dramatically—“would I lie to you?”

She snorted and turned away, leaving a pint of beer in front of him. Killian twisted on his stool and watched her in the corner. Watched them, for Emma and her mother huddled close together over their table.

But he hadn’t told her a lie.

That first night in Storybrooke, as he’d sat in his quarters contemplating the bunk that felt too soft and too large and the night air that felt too cool and too still and too quiet, she’d appeared. A shift in the air, and a puff of white smoke; he’d been sure he was dreaming. In her hand, there was a small object. A black rectangle of some hard material that folded over. “I can’t stay,” Emma said. “But—it was too quiet at home. And I brought you something. It’s a telephone—”

“A talking device,” he said. He’d recognized the Greek even when he hadn’t known the word. Astonishing what one learned in the Royal Navy, and how it carried over even into this realm. “The mermaids have a magic like this.”

“This way we can talk. Or text. And no one will know but us.”

“How romantic,” he deadpanned. But her fingers curled in his as he spoke, twined together.

“I’m going to lunch with Neal tomorrow,” Emma said. “Tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, until they see what I see. What I know. And then maybe—” she stopped. “What are you going to do?”

“I have some ideas.” He pulled her into his arms. Into his bed. Felt her rands roam as she traced his tattoos with her fingers and then her lips and her tongue until he shivered. Screamed.

And so did she.

She slipped from the sheets, quietly, and stood. “I can’t stay,” she said again.

“I understand,” he’d said. Because he did. “I’ll see you tomorrow, love.”

“So we’re going to do this?” And the unspoken question—you’re going to stay?

Killian nodded, answering both. “Your father’s been waiting for me to rob him since the moment we met. I would hate to be a disappointment.”

She’d appeared that first night and every night since; he almost wished that time were stopped again just so he could live in those moments forever. Here and now, David stood next to him--also watching, also quiet.

In the corner, Snow White started crying. So did Emma. Happy tears, Killian thought—Snow was smiling, holding Emma’s hand—Emma’s shoulders were relaxed and open as she leaned closer.

Killian smiled, too. He heard David’s sigh of relief. Saw his smile when their eyes met. “Take care of her, brother,” the prince said.

“She can take care of herself,” Killian said.

“Better than anyone,” David agreed. “But something tells me she’ll be busy watching out for you.”

“She would, wouldn’t she?”

“Just like her mother,” David said. He clapped his hand on Killian’s shoulder. Gave a squeeze, walked to the table in the corner.

“Another one, if you please, Mrs. Lucas,” Killian said, running his hand through his hair. The bell over the door rang, and Killian glanced over his shoulder. “Make it two.”

He slid the second pint over just as Neal sat on the stool next to his.

“I’m sorry,” Killian said.

Neal took a long, slow sip. He said, “I don’t need an apology, Killian. “And you don’t need my permission.”

“Not about that,” Killian said. “I’m sorry, Bae, for the ugliness that passed between us. If I could do it again, I wouldn’t.”

“Neither would I,” Neal said. “But then we wouldn’t be here. With her.”

“She loves you,” Killian said.

“I love her,” Neal said. “I probably always will. She’s my family.”

“Aye,” Killian said. “She is. And your boy.”

Neal surprised him, then. He turned on his stool and offered his glass in a toast. “And you,” he said.

“To family,” Killian said. He clinked their glasses together.

“To family, and home.”

[snowbellewells]

Self-Promo Sunday: “Under the Weather”

This is just a little post-Neverland one-shot, taking place sometime after they've returned to Storybrooke with Henry. Pan's gone, and there is no second curse. It was probably originally inspired (some years ago) by cold January weather and my wondering how Hook manages to keep warm and not get sick on a freezing cold old ship. And cold January weather brought it back to mind today to dig out for Self-Promo Sunday. Anyway, pretty sweet and fluffy, I'll admit it, but I still hope you enjoy - even all these years later and after how much closer our pirate and princess became...

"Under the Weather"

By: @snowbellewells​

Also available on ff.net or AO3

If anyone had asked her, Emma Swan couldn't have explained why she felt the sudden prickling of concern in the back of her mind, nor the unexpected, pressing need to make sure he was alright. Shaking her head at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea, she had fought against her impulses all day. She had busied herself with paperwork and answered calls about power outages and other inconveniences that came with the cold, wintry Maine weather, but there weren't enough jobs by early afternoon to keep her mind from wandering back to him and her eyes from every so often floating up to check the clock.

David knew something was bothering her; Emma could feel her father's eyes studying her for clues to her agitation. However, he was also wise enough to bite his tongue and not ask questions. She wanted to tell him to go on home to Snow, and she would finish up. Yet she didn't, knowing that would only make him more curious. Resolutely, stubbornly, she kept finding any bit of busy work she could lay her hands on to stop the disconcerting waves of concern for him that were now rolling through her at regular intervals.

'He's a 300-year-old pirate captain, for Heaven's sake!' her mind berated her seeming irrationality. 'He can certainly take care of himself in a sleepy little town. What in the world could he need you for? You haven't had word of any kind of trouble…' Still, while all of these arguments made perfect, reasonable sense, Emma found they didn't soothe her unease in the slightest.

When the clock finally struck five, David stood casually, announcing that since they weren't busy he was going to head home and help Snow with supper, if Emma didn't need anything. Emma shook her head 'no' with a small smile, thanking him and saying she would see him shortly.

"You're sure I can't do anything else to help before I leave?" her father asked sincerely, again looking at her so closely that Emma knew he was trying to divine her thoughts.

"Positive," she reiterated with a definite nod, giving him a playful smirk and waving him out the door. "I'll call if anything comes up, but I should be right behind you in an hour or so."

Once her father had left her to her own devices, Emma tossed the case files she had been pretending to read across the surface of her desk and gave up all pretense of working. Standing up and beginning to pace, she at last admitted to herself that the worry swirling inside her for Hook was not going away – in fact, it was only growing stronger. Taking one last glance around the interior of the station, she realized that she wasn't going to get anything else done, and she wouldn't have any peace until she put her awful hunch to rest. Hook was going to tease her mercilessly about her concern for him, but apparently she was going to have to live with that. The fact that he tended to haunt her steps and turn up anywhere she might be, made it especially disconcerting that she hadn't seen or heard from him in three days. At least, she was telling herself that was all it was.

She grabbed her jacket, hit the lights, locked up, and was headed for her car before she could fight with herself any longer. Parking the bug at the docks, Emma stepped out, straightened her clothes, and steeled her nerves before striding purposefully to the spot at the far end where the Jolly Roger had been anchored since their return from Neverland. Normally, the Captain was so alert and aware that the moment he heard anyone nearing his ship he would have already been standing on deck looking down in challenge, but Emma didn't see any sign of him.

Walking up the gangplank, she let her boots stomp and echo loudly; giving him fair warning that she was coming aboard and expecting him to appear any minute with an "Oi! Who goes there?" and brandished sword, but she was greeted with nothing but silence. Finding her footing on the familiar wooden deck, Emma actually experienced a strange sense of welcome reunion. Since they weren't hiding from Pan and Henry was safe, it was actually nice to be on the sturdy ship once more. She could have really grown to like the adventure and thrill of sailing, if the situation had been different and her son hadn't been in danger. She didn't linger in her nostalgic thoughts for long though. Trailing a gloved hand fondly along the ship's side, she moved toward the open door of the stairway which led below decks. Poking her head in, she tried calling out, "Hook?! Are you here?"

Again she got no response, so tamping down the feeling of trespass, she entered the darkness of the stairwell and stepped lower, growing more concerned all the time. 'Where had the insufferable idiot gotten to? And even more disturbing, why did she care?'

Remembering the lower level of the ship from their time in Neverland, she found her way down the hallway with a guiding hand along the wall, even though evening dusk was closing in and none of the hanging lanterns were lit. She passed the crew quarters that the rest of them had stayed in and didn't stop until she reached the room at the furthest end of the ship – the Captain's quarters. Pausing for a second, she drew in a quick, tight breath and then rapped her knuckles on the door. "If you're in there, Pirate, you'd better answer me," she warned, before adding with wry humor, "and I hope you're decent, because I'm coming in."

Whatever she had been expecting, the sight that met Emma's eyes when she entered Hook's chamber was not it. He was there, but the laughter that had been about to erupt at bursting in and catching him by surprise died in her throat when she got her first good look at him.

He was curled up in his bunk, even though it was barely 5:30, and he looked dead to the world, completely unaware of her presence despite all her yelling and stomping around. Even from across the room, she could see those unfairly long, gorgeous eyelashes flutter fitfully as he hovered not-quite-asleep, not-quite-awake, and he rolled from his side to his back with a pitiful, low groan.

"Hook?" she questioned worriedly, her voice small as she walked toward him, already stretching out a hand hesitantly. Once she got close enough to touch him, she nearly jerked back on contact; his skin was burning with fever under her fingertips. Emma gasped in surprise and leaned in closer, now truly concerned that he wasn't responding to her. She swiped her hand up his sculpted cheekbone to brush under the fringe of his dark hair and feel his forehead, equally hot and clammy from dried sweat.

It might have been the cool feeling of her hand on his flushed skin, but those stunning blue eyes, looking much more bleary and unfocused than usual, finally forced their way open to gaze at her in confusion. "Swan?" he mumbled, his voice sounding ragged and raw, probably from coughing, she realized sympathetically, "What are you…? Am I dreaming?"

She shook her head, smoothing his damp hair back and trying to calm her heart, which was now fluttering erratically at seeing him so vulnerable. "No, I'm here, Hook….I…" she hesitated, feeling that maybe she was giving too much away, "I just had a feeling…that something was wrong…that you needed help."

Hook started to smirk at her and, she was sure, offer some sort of smug comment on her admission, but he was shaken by violent tremors just then, shivering uncontrollably and a gruff sort of moan escaped against his will instead.

Her heart went out to him. Emma had honestly never pictured the man getting ill; he had survived a violent amputation, the Dark One's hand squeezing his heart, the rough, dangerous adventures of a pirate, and centuries of life in more than one realm. She would almost want to tease him for being felled by something as simple as the flu – if she weren't so concerned at the condition she found him in. She couldn't help wondering how long he had been lying there like that. Had he taken too much of a chill before she even arrived? What would have happened if she hadn't felt so compelled to come looking for him?

Reaching her other hand out in an effort to take his good one, Emma heard Hook's breath wheeze disturbingly as his mouth fell open, obviously trying to get a deeper breath through what must be badly congested lungs. "We'll be lucky if you haven't holed up in this drafty old boat and let your flu turn into bronchitis, Buddy," she chided him.

He tried to chuckle good naturedly, she could tell, but it became a wracking fit of coughs that made him clutch at his ribs and squeeze her hand in his, as if for reassurance that she was still there. "Hang in there," she whispered, squeezing back. "You're going to be okay." He barely nodded, but then his eyes fluttered closed and he didn't respond to her anymore. His loud, openmouthed, stuffy breathing let her know not to be alarmed, but Emma took the chance to look away from him and glance around the cabin.

There was a fireplace, but he had obviously not even felt strong enough to get up and tend it, as it had sunk to embers and was about to go out. She felt her own teeth nearly chattering it was so chilly in the room. He should probably be taken to someone's house – or to the hospital – but she didn't think she could move him alone, or that he was going to be able to stand and help her much.

Forcing herself to clear her head and draw in a deep, steadying breath, Emma tried to focus on one problem at a time. She pulled her hand from his clasp, and then patted his arm gently as if to reassure him she would only be a minute, though he made no movement and seemed out of it again. Stepping to the other side of the room, Emma took the poker from the mantle and stoked the fire until the embers flickered to a bit more life and then added a couple new logs. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure he wasn't looking, and then began to rummage carefully through the heavy old trunk she spotted in the corner until she found a few more blankets than the single one that Hook was already using – which must have already been on the bed. He was obviously sweating and feverish, but she knew that he was still chilled and needed to stay covered.

Coming back to his bedside, she sat tentatively on the edge of his bunk, just next to his hips and gently spread both blankets over his inert form, tucking them in with a level of care and concern that bewildered, frightened, and warmed her all at once. Hook didn't even open his eyes, but let out a breathy sigh and murmured in a voice even lower and rougher than usual, "Emma…you came…"

Her name on his lips with such pure and simple affection stilled her motions and she froze for a moment, hands hovering over him as if she had forgotten how to move. Blinking, Emma came back out of her trance and stood again, looking around to see that the fire was crackling and the room was already less cold. With a nod of approval to herself, she quickly escaped above deck for a moment.

She knew her first call should be her parents, to let them know she wouldn't be coming for supper after all. However, she dreaded explaining to her suspicious, overprotective father why she had felt the need to check on Captain Hook and now didn't want to leave him sick and alone. So she put it off by calling Ruby first, knowing the other woman was about to get off work at the diner and asking her to pick up some orange juice, bottled water, cough syrup, and Kleenexes, and bring them to the Jolly, promising she would explain when Ruby arrived. Then, once she couldn't put it off any longer, Emma was relieved to get Snow on her parents' phone. Her mother actually seemed concerned about the Captain as well and wanted to help, but Emma managed to dissuade her – for reasons she didn't even want to study too carefully. She informed her mother she would be back in the morning, once she made sure Hook had some fluids in him and his fever had broken, and they ended the call.

She paced on the deck until she saw Ruby striding down the dock – sashaying was more like it. The female wolf had a sort of wild grace even in her human form that Emma wasn't ashamed to admit she envied. Emma gave Snow's best friend a wave, and Ruby grinned widely, holding up the bag of requested items. Emma thanked her, explained what was going on, paid Ruby, and tried not to dwell on how anxious she was to get back to Hook and make sure he wasn't any worse.

"You've got it bad and don't even know yet," Ruby murmured, eyes twinkling mischievously at Emma.

Emma felt her hackles rise as she shot back defensively, "What are you talking about?"

Ruby just raised an eyebrow at Emma, giving her a look that said she might be fooling herself, but it was right there for anyone else to see. "You can't lie to someone with a canine sense of smell," Ruby smirked teasingly. "The pheromones are literally rolling off of you in waves. Not that I blame you…" she paused, licking her lips almost predatorily, "…that swagger, those eyes, and all that leather…"

Emma snorted indelicately, rolling her eyes at the waitress' antics and turning Ruby to give her a push towards the gangplank. "You're crazy!" she added, laughing even as her pulse raced with the truth and she hoped the other woman couldn't sense that too.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Sheriff," Ruby called back as she sidled off with a wave. "I'll let you go…for now. But I want details later." She turned once to wink at Emma, then she was gone, her chuckling at Emma's expense fading behind her.

Once Ruby had left, Emma redirected her steps below; trying to wipe her mind clean of the werewolf's teasing and her heart's whispering that was true. She stepped back into Hook's cabin, eyes immediately drawn to him across the room as she rooted through the bag to pull out the medicine and a bottle of water. She moved closer, only to see that he was shaking, teeth chattering, limbs shuddering enough that the blankets were sliding off him. His eyes were no longer closed, and they rolled up to meet hers weakly as he coughed harshly, sounding as though it raked his chest raw. "No need to gawk at me, Emma love, it's embarrassing enough having you here when I'm like this." He didn't get any more out though as the effort of speaking set off another coughing fit. Trembling, he suddenly wouldn't look her in the eyes.

She took pity on his pride and leaned in to help him sit, offering the plastic cup of cough syrup.

Hook wrinkled his nose, looking at it doubtfully for a moment, then glanced to her, "What is this, Lass?"

"Medicine, you stubborn pirate," she laughed, shaking her head at his hesitation and holding it out to him again. "Come on, I'm trying to help. We need to get some liquids in you."

He held out his hand to take the cup from her, but his fingers trembled so badly that Emma could see he was going to spill it all if he did. With a sigh, she brought it to his lips instead, tilting it so he could swallow, and gasped slightly, feeling a tingling sensation run through her hand as her knuckle brushed his chin. Their eyes locked together at the shock of the contact and neither moved until he shivered violently again, the shakes actually rattling his teeth and jerking them from the strange sort of reverie they had entered.

"Go on, Beautiful," he grit out, lying back as comfortably as he could manage and averting his eyes, "can't have you getting sick too. I'll survive. It will not be the first time in 300 years that I've been ill."

Something about the way he said those words and the look in his eyes stopped Emma cold. Her insides squeezed painfully at the thought of him suffering like this before with no one to rely on or even care if he recovered or not. That realization alone made her more determined than ever to take care of him, despite him being too proud to ask for help or want to trouble her. She shook her head, leaning with him as he tried to back away from her. "Nope, sorry, Hook. You're stuck with me." She held out the water bottle next. "Here, drink up."

His eyes narrowed, and he tried to growl at her, but the menacing effect was ruined by his raw throat and how pathetic it ended up sounding. "I'm not an infant, Swan." He grumbled a bit more, but drank about half the bottle with her holding it for him, before he stopped with a short sigh of frustration. "Go on. You must have better things to do, and I don't wish to impose."

"Really?" she shot back at him, arching a brow at his attitude, but not put off by it for a second. It was scary how alike they were; she could tell he detested looking vulnerable in front of her, or anyone. If she was honest with herself, she probably acted the same way anytime she was sick. "Stop being such a baby, Hook," she added, kicking her boots off and hanging her coat over his desk chair, "and slide over."

She nearly laughed out loud at his startled expression, and his confused, "Swan? What are you on about?"

"You're sick. You're cold. You need someone to look after you. I'm the only one here, so I'm not leaving. However, I'm tired, and it's chilly, so scoot over."

For a second, she thought he was going to fight her, and she wasn't sure if he was embarrassed, worried she would get sick, or if he truly was – despite all his innuendo – the gentleman he had always claimed to be. A round of chills and coughing gripped him again though, and once his head dropped to the pillow once more in defeat, she knew she had won. "Scoot," she ordered again, lifting the covers to crawl in next to him once he did.

So close to him, Emma realized how clammy and chilled Hook truly was. He had felt like he was burning up earlier, but the shivers would be hard to miss, curled up next to him as she was. To her amusement, as reluctant as he had seemed moments before, Hook was now pulling her closer. "You're so warm, Emma," he murmured, his arm coming to rest across her middle and shooting heat through her veins.

"You're a little bit out of your head right now, aren't you?" she teased him, still genuinely concerned, but also touched at the fact that he had allowed her comfort, feeling needed and wanted right where she was. Without thinking, or stopping to second guess what her hand did instinctively, she began to lightly stroke her fingers through his coarse, black hair, sifting it soothingly and watching as his breathing smoothed out and his forehead came to rest in the crook of her neck. It gave her an adorable little thrill in her stomach at the sight of him looking so young and unguarded, as if his burdens had lifted away.

"Emma," he murmured out under his breath, and neither the scratchiness nor the softness could mask the gentle affection in his voice.

Her heart stuttered, wondering what he was thinking as he whispered her name in his sleep. For a second, she wanted to panic and bolt, but then she realized how lovely the moment actually was. She could honestly lie right there with him and never want to move away. Occasionally, a small little tremor still ran through him, but they seemed to finally be lessening. She smirked wryly to herself, knowing that if she was smart, she would be out of his bed by morning, before he woke up feeling better and ready to plague her mercilessly for all of this. She lightly traced her hand in circles on his back, hoping he was warm enough and that she had gotten enough medicine down his throat.

Shaking her head, Emma chuckled at the way he had curled himself around her protectively, smiling in his sleep unawares. She felt her own eyelids growing heavy, and the thoughts that had troubled and distracted her all day simply floated out of her mind. She was almost grateful she had the excuse to be so close to him and hold him; she would never have done it otherwise. Defining this could wait; she was going to enjoy the moment while it lasted.

Tenderly, she tilted her head just a bit to place a light little kiss to his forehead, amazed at how beautifully at peace he looked in sleep, then cuddled deeper into their embrace. Deciding just this once not to be in control, but simply to feel, she allowed her eyes to close and followed her pirate's lead, drifting off to sleep at his side.

(I was originally so flattered that "Under the Weather" received so many nice reviews, that though I really only had that one-shot in mind, the requests for the next morning caused me to re-think and come up with this. After all, good reviews are nearly as irresistible as Killian Jones' smile. It's (again) pretty sweet and fluffy...)

Epilogue: The Next Morning

Rays of warm, golden sunlight filtered into his cabin, tickling Killian Jones' face and waking him groggily from sleep. He yawned, intending to roll over and go back to sleep, when he froze, his movement arrested in shocked surprise at discovering that he was not alone in his bunk. He stiffened, years of being on guard and ready for attack taking over unconsciously as he turned his head tentatively to the side. Despite the lingering stuffiness and congestion in his head and the weak sensation in his limbs, he was pirate enough to have already reached for the cutlass he had stowed at his other side before lying down the night before, tucked hidden between the edge of the bunk and the wall. However, the vision that greeted his eyes stilled his actions and stole his very breath.

Emma Swan was curled up next to him, actually cuddled into his side, her long, blonde tresses arrayed across the pillow with the sunlight glancing off them in a glowing halo. She let out a sweet little sigh and nuzzled her face into his shoulder, bringing her hand to rest unknowingly on his chest. There was a look of such peace on her face, that he had never seen her wear in waking hours, and it completely enchanted him.

Killian knew without a doubt that if he woke her, she would run – shut him out again, pick up her cares once more, and reinforce her walls. It pained him, but he knew it to be true, as surely as he breathed. He wanted desperately, more than he had any right to hope, for her to stay. Emma had come to him, cared for him, when he was ill and alone, and it had kindled a longing in him that she would trust him enough to stay always. From the moment he had met her, with her fiery eyes and stony determination, a modern woman out of her element in the Enchanted Forest, he had been drawn to her as strongly as had been pulling away from him. She didn't want to be abandoned as she had been before, so she had made sure to leave him first. He had been following her ever since. Her turning up last night changed the game. Suddenly, he was not the only one who cared.

Emma's brow furrowed in her sleep, as if something in her dreams troubled her, and hoping to soothe her, Killian reached over to brush a finger across her cheek, feather light, then smoothed the crinkled skin between her eyes. He was hoping to ease her back into quiet slumber, not wanting her to wake, or for this dream to end. It was as if he had wakened into a serene moment of refuge from the world that had been nothing but a bitter storm of hate and cruelty for as long as he could remember – until she entered it.

Her lovely face smoothed again, and she mumbled sleepily, a tiny smile quirking one corner of her perfect, tempting mouth. She practically hummed the word that he leaned in to hear. "Killian…" she whispered, her tone sounding so warm and happy caressing his given name that he could not help but smile and long for the day when she might speak it to him with that much affection while awake.

It didn't matter that his throat was still raw and he would kill for a drink. He tried to stifle the need to cough, for fear it would jostle the golden-haired angel who had now rolled over to face him and twined her legs with his as surely as she had twined her grasp around his heart. He hardly dared to breathe, much less move, but he was still staggered by how much better he felt just being able to clumsily sift his calloused fingers through the strands of her silky mane.

Sunlight might have been pouring in to wake them, but he was going to ignore it for the chance to have this incredible, broken, infuriating woman in his arms as long as her possibly could. "I love you, Emma lass," he whispered hoarsely under his breath, placing a kiss to her temple. Then he closed his eyes, not sure if he could actually manage sleep with her so near, but needing to savor this moment. So gently it was almost imperceptible, he cradled her even closer to the warmth of his body, glad he had woken to find her still there.

Someday, he did desire to wake her with languid kisses trailing down her neck and along her collarbone, whispering endearments before either keeping her in his bed all day to love her as she deserved or venturing out to fetch her breakfast and talk to her and she readied for a new morn. Yet he knew that day had not yet come. He would not rush her. Instead, he would celebrate the step she had taken in allowing him to know of her concern for his well-being. He would hold her close enough to memorize and treasure the feeling – in all probability, she would fight its happening again anytime soon – and be glad she had given him reason to hope. Killian touched one flaxen strand of her hair, twirled it around his finger for a moment, and then tucked it behind her ear. "I can wait as long as you need, Emma," he whispering fervently. "I have all the time in the world."

Tagging a few who may enjoy (or did before): @effulgentcolors​ @let-it-raines​ @spartanguard​ @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @winterbaby89​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thislassishooked​ @laschatzi​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @searchingwardrobes​ @hollyethecurious​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @killian-whump​ @thisonesatellite​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @shireness-says​ @snidgetsafan​ 

[gch1995]

I’ll always love Rumbelle, both individually and as a couple from S1-S3 canon and in canon-divergent/AU fanon scenarios. That being said, I don’t approve of the abruptly, cheaply shocking, contrived, flanderdized, and wildly ooc, annoyingly hypocritical, cartoonishly evil, exceedingly cruel, exceedingly desperate, exceedingly distrustful, exceedingly self-righteous, exceedingly selfish, exceedingly reckless, and ridiculously stupid ways in which Kitsowitz and these writers characterized them throughout S4-S6. I could understan it if those wildly ooc, unsympathetic, and stupid deviations in their otherwise normally intelligent and sympathetic characterizations in regards to each other made any sort of consistent, organic, logical, and relatable sense within the canon narrative, but Kitsowitz and the writers just abruptly and cruelly made them as melodramatically and uncharacteristically unsympathetic and stupid as possible at certain intervals out of nowhere because their ridiculously asspulled plot twists demanded they be derailed, so that they could rerail them back on track for the exact same arcs they had already gotten from S1-3A over and over and over again.

Aside from the fact that Kitsowitz and these writers were obviously pulling a deliberate character assassination on Rumbelle, both as individual characters and a couple, to prop up Hook/CS on to a pedestal they didn’t deserve either from 3B-S6, the wildly ooc, melodramatic, and increasingly unforgivable painful character derailment and retcons throughout 3B-S6/S7 to achieve re-railment of character development that had already been achieved in S1-3A, is exactly what Kitsowitz and these writers also did to Emma, Hook, Snow, David, Henry, and even Regina (though her character assassination was the least egregious), too.

Yeah, there are some nice moments throughout 3B-S7 where these characters and relationships here and there that reminded me of the same relatable and complex ones they originally were throughout S1-3A, but that’s really all that 3B-S7 is to me. A collection of beautiful moments of wasted potential for a show that once was, could have, and should have been far better. A collection of wasted ideas that inspired far superior fanfiction. For me, though, the real canon OUAT died with “Going Home” (3x11). You could even see problems in the writing starting to show with rape culture, misogyny, plot holes, and ridiculous contrivances and plot twists starting to show up in S1. But what they did to the show after resurrecting Rumple and killing off Neal/Bae was what really sunk this show into an unsalvageable mess of character assassinating bad writing, not just for Rumple and Belle, but every other remaining main character and ship on this show, as well.

I wonder if any of yall out there knew that i am in love with and would die for Rumbelle, both members and as a pairing

[lenfaz]

The Princess and The Pirate, ch. 14 (14/?)

CS Canon Divergence, post 3A: Hook finds an unexpected surprise after he leaves the Charmings in the Enchanted Forest.

Ch 1 /Ch 2 /Ch 3/ Ch 4/ Ch 5/ Ch 6/ Ch 7/ Ch8 /Ch 9 / Ch 10 /Ch 11 /Ch 12/ Ch 13

Fic tag

Read it also on Ao3 or FF

I don't even know if anyone is reading and this was clearly not all the story I wanted to tell when I started this fic almost 3 years ago. But I will finish it, I promise. Even if it's with plotline notes and dialogue excerpts

Chapter 14: Drinking Partners

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

Killian turned around, his brow furrowing at the unexpected guest.  It had been three days since he’d left the castle and his crew were to set sail in two days’ time. He had been ensuring everything was ready for the travel, throwing himself into the known routines of getting a ship perfect for sailing as a way to avoid his feelings. But his traitorous heart and his deceiving mind gave him no quarrel, and soon he found himself sulking and commiserating. His crew had known better than to talk to him when he was in such a state, and one by one they’d found things to do ashore, taverns and wenches to visit, and left him to brood on his own at nights, with nothing but a rum barrel for company.

It hadn’t escaped Killian how much his crew seemed to be finding ties inland, either rekindling relationships long forgotten or building new ones. It wouldn’t be long until this port would become home for most of them… just when Killian was adamant to escape his heartache in the only way he knew how: sailing the seas without looking back.

However, none of that explained the man that was standing on the dock, waiting for his reply. Killian smirked and shrugged more out of habit than anything else. It was easy to play that part, after all.

“Since when do you need permission to board a ship in your port, Majesty?”

David gave him a brief smile. “This isn’t one of my ships, Hook. I think is customary to ask.” He shuffled on his feet. “I was wondering if the services of your ship as a safe harbor to drink oneself in peace were available to other members of the royal family.”

Killian tilted his head and contemplated the request. A big part of him wanted to say no and send David back to his family, urging the man to seek comfort in the wonderful woman waiting for him, or the friends willing to lay their lives for them. But a part of him knew exactly why David has sought him. When one holds a position of power, one cannot succumb to darkness. One must set an example. Always. That was who Liam used to be, leaving any type of moment of weakness for the solitude of his cabin, sinking himself in a place not even Killian could reach him. That was David now, desperately seeking the one place where he knew he could unleash his demons. Killian wasn’t going to deny the man the chance to do so.

He bowed his head, his hand motioning over the deck. “My rum barrels are at your service, Majesty”.

/-/

Surprisingly, Prince Charming could hold a lot more rum than Killian would have thought. But eventually, drunk stupor fell on the other man, and his frustrations slowly started to fade away.

“I should have chased him the moment you made it back with Emma. I should have gotten on my horse, found him and make him pay.”

Killian downed his rum and swallowed, letting the fire burn his throat. “Revenge may sate your being, but it's an end, not a beginning.”

David took his time with his rum, and studied Killian until the other man almost squirmed under the scrutiny. “Is that why you didn’t go after him?”

Killian pondered his answer for a moment. “My one priority was getting Emma out of there and return her safely to the castle. Everything else held little importance at that moment. You needed to stay in the castle to ensure she was safe after we made it back. That was your priority, mate.”

And it was a good one.

But it seems that wasn’t enough for a rum fueled David who was letting his demons out. “And now? Is there a reason why I shouldn’t find him now?” He averted his eyes to the sea, his jaw clenching and his hand fisting at his side. “I want to. Every part of me is screaming for compensation, to make him atone for what he did to my daughter,” he confessed hoarsely and Killian’s heart tug at the sadness and anger in his voice. He knew that feeling so well, after all.

His hand reached to clasp on David’s shoulder, forcing the other man to look at him. “You don’t want to go down that path, mate. It won’t turn back time. It won’t stop what already had happened…” he swallowed, letting his own emotions flood him. “It won’t heal her any faster.”

“Is that why you’re leaving?” David asked.

Killian averted his eyes, feeling uncomfortable for letting his emotions get the best of him. “She needs time. Emma doesn’t need me here, like a constant reminder of one of the worst times of her life, of the pain she suffered.”

“But you saved her.”

And she couldn’t even hold my gaze after it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Killian sighed, running his hand through his hair. “All she sees right now is darkness.” And he knew all about darkness creeping up on you. He could only hope his own absence and her family’s love would be enough to anchor her back into the light.

Silence stretched between the two men as they both stared out to the sea. “Where would you go?”

Anywhere but here where my heart is breaking time and again.

“There’s always somewhere to sail. The sea is endless.” The sea, his first love, was waiting to embrace him again and help him heal as well.

David shook his hand. “I hope this pass… I truly do,” he said sincerely.

“Take care of your family, Majesty.”  Take care of Emma.

“You take care of yourself, Hook.”

“Aye, will do.”