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snowbellewells · 3 months

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Self Promo Sunday: "Sky's Canvas"

This little future Swan-Jones-Mills family fic envisioning them during their happy beginning post-s6 would probably have been well suited to Father's Day last week, but I didn't think of it until too late. I hope it will still be enjoyable this week too. It's a part of my one shot collection on AO3 or ff.net (if you'd prefer to read it either of those places instead) I hope you have fun picturing this alternate idea of what might have happened - and I'd love to hear what you think!

Notes: I toyed with the idea for this one for quite some time. The prompt elements that I have used are: a museum, the phrase “it was just a joke”, and also some small art facts – mostly about the particular museum itself (which is real). I have also put in a CS daughter (my personal head canon imagined one, Morgan Ruth Jones, whom I have written about before), and a college aged Henry. So, this is set somewhere in an alternative post-season 6 reality, where Henry stays in the Land Without Magic to seek his story, and also to be close enough to visit his family often, and for them to return the favor…)

by: @snowbellewells

The bubbly, nonstop chatter of her four-year-old little girl, which has cheerfully been filling Emma Swan’s ears for the past hour and a half, suddenly stills, immediately grabbing her attention and setting off an interior maternal alarm. She turns to seek out Morgan Ruth Jones – her little pirate princess – wondering if her daughter has yet again managed to sneak away from them and find herself in some sort of trouble.

Luckily, Emma doesn’t have to look far before she hears a chortling trill of baby laughter and locates her toddler with the disheveled head of dark, ringlet curls and twinkling, mischievous eyes – an aquamarine mix of her own green gaze and her father’s ocean blue – standing before a huge oil painting of a Spanish galleon rocking precariously on the stormy main and looking up at her father with fixed adoration. “Really, Papa?” Emma hears Morgan chirp, practically bouncing on the balls of her little feet as she tugs anxiously at his hook in eagerness to hear his answer. “Was it a storm that big you sailed ‘Roger’ through when you went to save Henwy in Neverland?!”

Emma is just chuckling wryly at the changes which have transpired in her life to give her a little girl more interested in daring adventures, ancient naval ships, and sword fighting than frilly dresses or dolls and makeup, even as her husband raises his eyes just enough to smirk at her knowingly over Morgan’s head, when another voice, youthful, warm, and settling into its masculine, adult timbre, answers Morgan’s question from over her shoulder, announcing Henry’s arrival to join them. “It was bigger, Pipsqueak,” he confirms jovially, pausing briefly to wrap a wiry arm around his mom in a quick side-hug before continuing to the side of his younger half-sister, kneeling to her level and adding with a gleam in his eye, “A mermaid summoned it to drown them all.”

“Hen-wy!!” Morgan squeals with glee; the painting, and even her papa’s beloved ship, forgotten as she flings herself into her brother’s arms with enough force to nearly bowl him over, causing Henry to chuckle as he catches her close to his chest.

“Hey Munchkin,” he greets affectionately, standing to his full height again – now even with his stepdad’s – still holding Morgan, her arms wrapped around his neck so tightly that Emma has to wonder if she’s ever going to let go. Turning to include his mom and his surrogate father in his next statement, Henry adds. “It’s great to see you all. Things must be quiet in Storybrooke, if you’re still going to stay all weekend.”

Here he arcs an eyebrow in curious bemusement, a trait Emma realizes all too well that he has picked up from her dashing scoundrel of a husband and probably uses to equally charming effect on all the girls he meets in his freshman courses at Bowdoin College. It is clear he has settled easily into the small arts school in Brunswick, Maine, just under a two hours’ drive from them, and that the campus atmosphere and freeing anonymity and normalcy he has there must be agreeing with him. Emma wants to snort in disbelieving laughter at his jest, though well aware that he knows better than to ever think his hometown would go completely, boringly normal. Instead, she shakes her head resignedly, merely giving her grown son a playfully long-suffering sigh. “You know how it is,” she shrugs, “never a dull moment. But – if you don’t count the dwarves coming to blows at Granny’s the other morning because Tom Clark accidentally sat in Leroy’s spot at the counter and got his flu germs on Leroy’s plate of bacon and eggs…”

“Which I do count,” Killian interrupts smoothly, winking at his adopted son. “I am the one who risked infection from the virus in forestalling their skirmish.”

Emma rolls her eyes at her deputy husband’s interruption and mutters “drama queen” under her breath, which Henry and Morgan both clearly hear and snicker at before she continues, “Otherwise it’s been as quiet as it ever gets. No deathly dangerous villains or curses meant to tear us apart and wipe our memories blank.”

“Yet…” Killian adds on needlessly, an ominous tone in his voice acknowledging the fact that they all know it’s only a matter of time before some new threat is wreaking havoc again. Their sleepy little town might seem like a place lost in time and space, but it is still a veritable magnet for trouble, and none of them can deny it.

Killian, however, waggles his brows playfully after his foreboding aside, making Henry shake his own head at his stepfather. It had seemed a rather grim pronouncement for the reformed pirate – more like his mom, really.

Morgan grins widely back at her father, nodding in gleeful agreement, her gap-toothed smile showing where she has lost a fair few of her baby teeth recently. “Yeah…yet!” she exclaims, not fully understanding the concern behind the sentiment, but always ready – as is her entire extended family – for action and excitement.

Emma shakes her head in humored exasperation at her two “children” – wondering, as she often does, how someone who has seen and experienced as much as Killian, who has witnessed some of the worst humanity had to offer and suffered at their hands, who has lived so long and weathered such crushing heartbreak and hate, can still easily find such simple, child-like joy in the littlest things. “Really, guys?” she questions, looking to her college student son for more mature support. “Can’t we just enjoy things being normal for once?”

“Aye, of course, my Love,” Killian replies deftly. “ ‘Twas merely a joke,” he adds, leaning over to brush a quick kiss to her brow that makes Morgan giggle, hide her face in Henry’s shoulder, and cry out, “Eww, they’re kissing again!” in a frank, tickling whisper against her older sibling’s skin.

“Just a joke is right,” Henry declares, motioning them forward to venture on into the rest of the Bowdoin College Museum and toward the particular exhibit he wants them to see. The collection was an 1811 bequest from a wealthy benefactor to the school and was one of the earliest college art collections in the country, as Henry had enthusiastically told her over the phone some weeks ago when his project had commenced. His Maritime History class had done a cross-curriculum partnership with the arts department to put together a student exhibit of research and mixed media in the college’s museum, and Henry has been quite secretive about his entry, even if insistent that they needed to see it in person. “Like anyone could be around you lot for long and think you were normal!” he scoffs.

“Ha ha,” his mother laughs drolly, bumping into his side with her shoulder in playful retribution as they move ahead side-by-side, with Killian, who is now holding a wriggling Morgan once again, following closely behind. However, once the jostling ceases, Emma grasps her nearly-grown son’s hand in hers for a moment, stunned anew at how much he has changed from the little boy who had found her in Boston all those years ago, and led her into the very life she has now. Squeezing tightly with emotion welling up in her throat, she wishes he could truly understand how much she loves him.

“Missed you too, Mom,” Henry murmurs softly, pressing her fingers back with his own wrapped around them. It is more than enough and makes her heart flutter in gladness.

Once Henry leads them through a few different rooms and several intriguing displays, he slows when they reach a large, somewhat circular room with a high, arched ceiling, and then turns to them with a mysterious smile on his face and clear anticipation in his big, brown eyes, just as they have always held, even at ten years old.

At first glance, this particular exhibit, this room in itself, seems empty. Looking around with faces equally full of curiosity and confusion, Killian, Emma, and Morgan end up staring back at Henry expectantly until Killian finally speaks up, “Begging your pardon, Lad, but I’m afraid I am not quite certain what you wish for us to see.”

Henry gives a nod of acknowledgement, rather knowingly pleased, and making Emma smirk to herself with a mother’s satisfaction at seeing her son so confidently happy and in his element. ‘He’s definitely got something up his sleeve,’ she thinks affectionately, admittedly finding herself anxious to see what his surprise might be. She knows that Henry has been loving this course all term – not to mention how thrilled her husband had been at the news – and that the long term practicum research projects are being showcased here throughout the entire month of April. Emma can only conclude that her son’s hard work has paid off in a way he’s proud of, and he must believe wholeheartedly that they will be too.

All Henry says is, “I take it you’re ready then?” and at Killian’s nod and Morgan’s “Yes, yes, YES, Henwy!!” exclamation, while she hops up and down exuberantly, he switches off the lights and presses a previously unnoticed button next to the light switch.

Immediately, the light and airy sound of some sort of flute or piccolo trickles through the quiet air of the room, a gently evocative melody with a lingering, haunted quality to its tone, enhanced by the sound echoing beneath of waves washing gently against the hull of some easily floating ship or back and forth over the shore of some deserted bay. Even as the sounds which are familiar and comforting to his tiny family audience wrap around them, small pinpricks of light appear just like stars in the night sky out on the ocean, sparking to life on the walls around them and the high ceiling overhead. It is a constellation spread out just for them in breathtaking majesty. Then, the Author begins to narrate his newest story…

Listening to Henry’s words, Emma feels her breath catch just a bit in both awe and emotion, glancing quickly over at her husband and daughter, before either of them realizes they are being observed. Morgan’s green eyes are wide and sparkling with interest and excitement, her mouth an open “o” as she looks above her, dazzled at what would appear for all the world to be the stars and constellations in the night sky brought indoors and spread out for their entertainment. Killian is silent and still, so much so that Emma knows – as few others would – just how valiantly he is battling some strong emotion…how very touched he is. Emma was never as great a student of the star charts and navigational astronomy as her sailor would have loved to make her, but Henry ate it right up, and she would bet her battered and beloved old VW that Henry has recreated some particular display that holds an extra meaning for he and his stepdad alone.

Shaking herself slightly to bring her focus back to earth and her attention back to the words of Henry’s presentation once more, she hears her son’s voice – soothing, engaging, and reeling her into the adventurous stories behind the scattered specks of light arrayed above them and their meaning and guidance to generations of sailors making their ways on a wide and pathless sea.

“The Cygnus,” Killian mouths silently beside her, appearing genuinely awestruck as he takes his gaze just momentarily from Henry’s representative “sky” to look in the eyes of the young man he has for years now cared for and loved like a son; a sincere gaze of fond understanding passing between them that brings a film of unshed tears to Emma’s vision that she has to rapidly blink away. In fact, soundless though it may be, she catches Killian’s comment only because she is so focused on her husband and his emotional reaction to this gift Henry has given all of them – but her pirate in particular. Emma senses that Killian knows it in this moment and holds tightly to his fingers twined with hers while practically beaming at her son, wondering again how she ever got lucky enough that the two most important people in her world would love each other as much as they each love her.

Morgan reaches over from Killian’s arms to pat her mother’s cheeks as Henry concludes his tale and turns the lights back up. “Don’t cry, Mama,” Morgan coos sweetly. “Henwy’s story was happy in the end. The Swan leads the sailor to his home.”

Emma smiles shakily at her daughter, and then the rest of her family with their looks of understanding. “I know, Baby,” Emma murmurs softly, still brushing away the evidence, but with her smile growing broader all the while. “Don’t worry. These are happy tears.”

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jrob64 @apiratewhopines

@whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @stahlop @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @winterbaby89

@spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic

@xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv @anmylica @jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper @branlovestowrite

@linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @let-it-raines @ineffablecolors

#self promo sunday #cs future family fluff #canon divergent cs ff post s6 #sky's canvas #cs one shot #cs famiily fluff #captain cobra feels #cs baby: morgan ruth jones

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 3 months

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4th of July Reruns: Independence Day

Happy 4th of July week to all who celebrate it! I have a couple of old 4th of July themed CS fics that I thought I'd share with all of you, and if all goes well, I'll have a new 4th of July fic to add to Fluffy Fridays this Friday!

Word Count: 2082

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 @gillie @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4

@linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious

@laughswaytoomuch @allyourdarlingswans @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight

@lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

Summary: This fic was originally posted to my Fluffy Fridays collection sometime around season 6. At the time, it was a "future fic", but now it is more of a slight canon divergence. With the Black Fairy defeated and the final battle won, Storybrooke is enjoying it's happily ever after and trying to make new memories. Emma has some exciting news for Killian.

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Independence Day

CS Genre: Future Fic

Spring slowly sizzled into summer—a particularly hot and humid summer in Storybrooke that had Emma grateful that they had indeed decided to stay in the Land Without Magic, a place where air conditioners were a thing.

Ever since the Black Fairy was defeated a few months ago, she and Killian had responded to far more “cat stuck in a tree” or “Leroy double parked in front of Granny’s” calls than “weird, fairy tale villain intent on world domination just destroyed something” calls.

In fact, they’d had no calls about fairy tale villains. It seemed Storybrooke had finally settled down into a peaceful, sleepy little town, with its requisite cast of eccentric characters.

It had never been the kind of life Emma had imagined she would lead—sheriff in a small town where everyone knows everyone else, married to her true love and so happy she thought she might die from it. But though it might not be the life she’d expected for herself, it was a life she loved with every fiber in her being.

Even when Regina decided to institute regular town meetings to discuss town business. (Seriously, they really were turning into Stars Hollow.) It was at one such meeting about a month ago, that the whole big production had been decided on.

“Now that we’re not, you know, fighting villains every other day,” Leroy had said when Regina called on him to speak, “I think we need to start participating in normal society things. The 4th of July is coming up. Let’s do it up right. Parade, fireworks, the whole shebang.”

Killian leaned over to Emma. “Perhaps I’m missing something love, but what exactly is the significance of the 4th day of July, and why would it call for an unusual amount of festivity?”

Emma smirked, so glad to get back to the business of enlightening Killian about the modern world rather than, you know, trying not to die or trying to keep him from dying. “It’s Independence Day in the United States, which is technically the country we live in. Lots of celebrating goes on that day.”

He’d, as usual, wanted to pepper her with about a million questions. Seriously, her husband wanted to know everything about everything. Usually, Emma dealt with it by telling him to go look it up on the “magic box”, aka Internet, but that wasn’t exactly practical during a town meeting. Seriously, Regina was as strict about “no talking!” in her meetings as the most demanding teacher.

“Shhh!,” Emma had said as various members of the town began brainstorming ideas for the best (and, honestly the first) 4th of July Storybrooke had ever celebrated. “You can look it up later.”

In the end they had decided to go with, as Leroy put it, the whole patriotic “shebang”. There would be a parade through the main street of town in the morning—complete with the Storybrooke high school band and various prominent citizens dressed in their Enchanted Forest finest. Emma wasn’t sure exactly what their Enchanted Forest attire had to do with the 4th of July, but she’d long since learned not to question these kind of decisions. It only led to confusion and headaches. Oh so many headaches.

(And to be honest, as the meeting was really ramping up, Emma realized kind of vaguely that she’d been having more headaches lately…along with way more nausea at weird times…and moments where she felt faint…and so much exhaustion she felt like she could barely get out of bed some mornings. Maybe she should make an appointment with Dr. Whale to see what was going on with her, but she thought she’d give it a few more weeks. After all, she’d been under a lot of stress since….well, basically since she moved to Storybrooke, and these weird symptoms were probably nothing more than her body sloughing off the stress and trying to get used to this strange new phenomenon known as “peace”.)

Anyway, the festivities would continue with a town picnic around noon and then fireworks as night fell.

And so it was that Henry and Killian spread out a blanket on the hill overlooking town on the evening of the 4th of July. Emma set her picnic basket on the blanket, and then sat down beside it, reaching for the ginger ale she always had at the ready lately. With a small, secret smile, she put a hand on her flat stomach, both excited and terrified about the news she’d received just the day before.

“And you’re sure we’re quite safe, here, love?” Killian asked as he sat beside her. “I must admit to being more than a little uneasy at the thought of the dwarfs setting off explosive devices for our amusement. It seems like a terrible idea.”

They’d talked about fireworks as soon as they’d returned from the town meeting back in June, and Henry had been amazed that Killian had never seen a fireworks display. “Are you serious?” Henry asked. “You’ve never seen fireworks? Fireworks have been around for like…ever. I know they were a thing in the Enchanted Forest. I saw them in my storybook—during Cinderella’s wedding!”

Killian shrugged. “Oh aye,” he’d said, “I’d heard of them, of course, but as a slave I’d not had much occasion to observe them. And then once I’d become a pirate…well, I was far more interested in causing the explosions than viewing them.”

“But fireworks are way better than just explosions!” Henry had assured. “They’re colorful and sparkly. Sometimes they have special designs. Some of them light up the sky, and others are like…little bursts of bright light and sound. And fireworks displays always have a grand finale and it’s just…I can’t explain it, but it’s awesome!”

“How precisely do they work?” Killian asked. “One lights a fuse and there is an explosion, aye, that I understand, but how do such explosions result in different formations and colors?”

“They just…do,” Henry said, with a little shrug. “I don’t know how it works. I just know it’s amazing.”

“I believe I shall consult Mr. Google, then, lad,” Killian said. “I find it far preferable to understand the mechanisms of my entertainment.”

Of course he did. Emma should have known. It had been two weeks after they’d moved in together before they could have their first family movie night because Killian insisted on researching what movies were, how they were made, how they were projected on screen, and how thin, circular discs inserted in a machine could cause said movies to appear on the “moving picture box”.

Her husband was a full-fledged nerd. A hot one, for sure, but a nerd nonetheless.

“Yes, Killian,” Emma said, coming back to the present and laying her head on her husband’s shoulder. “I’m sure everything is totally safe. Leroy’s got everything organized. Just relax and enjoy the show.”

“I shall attempt to do so,” Killian said, “but I fail to see how colorful lights can elicit as much excitement as you and the lad…ooooooh!”

Emma giggled as the first firework—a large one that changed color from red to white to blue, lit up the Storybrooke night sky. Killian looked up at the display in wonder, his eyes wide as saucers, a soft, boyish smile draping his face.

Sometimes she looked up at him and it just overwhelmed her all over again how much she loved him. Now was one of those times. She felt the tears come to her eyes, and Killian looked down at her in concern. As usual, he could sense her moods.

“Is all well, Swan?” he asked in concern, reaching up to catch the single tear that fell from her eye.

“It’s more than alright, Killian,” Emma said. “It’s perfect. All of this is perfect. I just love you so much, and I love our life together, and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve it, but life is just about perfect right now.”

He smiled tenderly, and leaned in to kiss her, but just before their lips connected, another firework went off, and Killian turned back to the light display. Emma smiled, laying her head once again on his shoulder as Henry wandered off to find Violet and watch the show with her.

The fireworks went on and on, and as they moved closer to the grand finale, Emma heard one of the dwarfs (she thought it was Happy’s job?) start the music. It had been decided that they would end the fireworks display with the 1812 overture, complete with the big finale coming during the cannon fire in the music.

Of course, as soon as it had been decided, Killian had gone to the library and pestered Belle for any information she could give him about the piece of music.

“The customs of this land are incomprehensible, love,” Killian had said that night as he helped her make dinner. “Why is it customary for this ‘1812 Overture’ to be played at celebrations of this country’s founding? The founding did not happen in 1812, but a generation before. What’s more, the piece was written to commemorate an event that has nothing to do with the United States. That Tchaikovsky fellow wrote the piece to commemorate the moment the Russians defeated Napoleon in his attempts to take over Russia. (Incidentally, is it only me, love, or does this Napoleon sound significantly like the Crocodile? Small in stature, lust for power, dreams of world domination…)”

“I really don’t know why the 1812 is so popular,” Emma said as she carefully pulled a casserole from the oven. “It just…is.”

“And it’s full of nationalistic anachronisms,” Killian had continued.

“What’s full of…what?” Henry asked, filching a roll from the bread dish and sitting at the table.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Your step-dad was about to explain about all the nationalistic anachronisms (whatever those are) in ‘The 1812 Overture’.”

“Quite so,” Killian said. “The piece features the French national anthem, La Marseillaise, for example, but in 1812, the song had been banned by Napoleon (the total ponce). Furthermore, the piece utilizes the Russian anthem ‘God Save the Tsar’ near the end, but it had not yet been written as of 1812. Not much of a historian, this Tchaikovsky.”

Henry groaned. “Mom, I think we need to ban him from the library. I already have to suffer through history lessons in school. Don’t need them when I get home, too.”

A particularly loud volley of fireworks brought Emma back to the present.

“So, are you enjoying your first 4th of July?” Emma asked.

“It’s been quite enjoyable, Swan,” Killian said, “but then any day I get to spend with you and the lad is.”

Emma’s nerves began dancing within her stomach (or was that just the nausea again). The moment was just about here. As soon as she’d learned the news from Whale, she’d decided she’d tell Killian just at the climax of the fireworks show. She wanted to make this moment special.

She just hoped he was as excited about the news as she was. They hadn’t talked much about it. This wasn’t something they’d planned; it had just sort of…happened. What if this wasn’t what he wanted?

“Anything the matter, Swan?” Killian asked just as the cannon began to boom in the music.

“No,” Emma said, taking a deep breath. “Something’s actually pretty great. At least I hope you think it is. I mean, I do, but we haven’t talked about it and…”

“Swan,” Killian said, looking more concerned than ever, “out with it, love.”

Emma took a deep breath, and then leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Killian, in about 7 ½ months you’re going to be a daddy again.”

His eyes got round again, as he sat up abruptly. “A father? I’m to be a father? You’re with child?”

She smiled tremulously. “Yeah, Whale thinks I’m about 6 weeks along. Are you…are you happy about it? I mean I know we haven’t really discussed it and this is a surprise and…”

He cut her off with a swift, passionate kiss, his hand moving to rest on her still flat belly. When he pulled back, there were tears in his eyes. “How can you even ask that, Swan? Of bloody course I’m happy. A baby! A product of our love! I do believe my life is now absolutely perfect!”

Emma leaned over and kissed him again, the tears streaming from her eyes as overhead the fireworks celebrated right along with the Savior and her Pirate.

#cs ff #captain swan fanfiction #cs canon divergence #storybrooke at peace #my fanfiction #4th of july reruns #independence day

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exhaustedpirate · 4 months

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i'm your dead girl walking

if you recognise the title, welcome to my heathers the musical brainrot! the song definitely influenced this absolute smut fest of a fic but there is a very fluffy ending! one day i'll learn to just give you smut but today is not that day! i give my heart to @belovedcreation for her amazing support and beta services for this fic, you're the best, babe!!

rated E | 8127 words also on AO3

summary: Regina manages to delay Peter Pan's curse for a few hours during which she spends time with Henry. Emma, having spent quality time with her family, decides to spend time with another equally special person. With only 6 hours until she is separated from Killian what else better to do than get "freaky"?!

Storybrooke’s Main Street was empty. All lights were turned off and the only source of light was the full moon. It was both eerie and peaceful, knowing what was to come.

Pan was defeated. Rumplestilskin was dead. There was a curse coming.

Emma sighed in the quiet night. Maybe she should be used to it, this impending doom every year, but really, who could?

According to Regina, the curse would hit at dawn. She was glad for the extra time Regina gave them, time to say goodbye, time to just be together. After that, Henry and Emma were off to an adventure of their own and they would be separated from their family.

Right, there was no getting used to that.

But now, with her parents asleep, Henry at Regina’s and everyone else making use of their last hours in the modern world, Emma felt restless. They had had a nice dinner at Granny’s, drank, and talked. There had been no tears, no frowns, no goodbyes.

But he had been there, sitting in the furthest corner of the counter. He had shared a drink with David, smiled at something Granny told him. Had spoken to Neal, hugged him. Had looked at her, watched her and turned away when she looked back. And yet, no word to her.

Well, if that’s how he was going to play it then- Emma sighed again, interrupting her own thoughts. They had 6 hours before their whole lives would be disrupted, before they were all separated once more.

Fuck it.

It was easy to reroute her wandering path. Before she knew it, Emma had stopped in front of Granny’s inn, her foot hovering over the first step. There was a faint light coming from the door, just like it had been two years ago when she first arrived in town. Walking through that door would be like proclaiming to the whole town what she intended to do and that was a mood killer.

Taking a step back, she saw one more light on. It was just as faint but it was on the second level and she could feel it, deep in her gut, that that was the window she was looking for. Emma took a deep breath as she looked up at it. Was she really about to do what she thought she was about to do?

Was she drunk enough for this? She could still feel that last drop of liquid courage in her stomach but really all that walking had sobered her up. Hopefully it was enough to give her that push. And really, it was a wonder she didn’t fall to her death as she climbed the trellis on the back wall, her only goal that faint light in the window. If she was thinking of anything but her destination, she would have laughed at how she wasn’t climbing with him but to him this time.

The window was locked because of course it was but she could see him lying in the bed with his back on the headboard, a beat-up book open with one hand, his hooked arm over his thigh. Hook was the picture of relaxation, his billowing black shirt unbuttoned, black leather trousers and bare feet on the bed. He really was making use of Granny’s offer of modernity on their last night in town.

It was now or never. Later she should have a chat with Granny about how easy it was to snap the window lock but it boded well for her tonight. Before she took a breath, Emma was stumbling into the room with an incredible lack of grace.

“Swan.” As she fumbled to stand up, she watched Hook put down his book unhurriedly. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Shh.” She brought a finger up to her lips as she fumbled to remove her boots. “There’s only a few hours until everything goes to shit.” She took a mental picture of the amused and confused smirk twitching his lips as she approached the bed. “Now is the perfect time for you to give me that ‘fun’ you promised.” His eyebrow hitched before the other joined in shock when she straddled his lap. “Or was that all talk?” His book was thrown to the floor in a flash, his eyes never leaving hers.

“No,” Hook answered quickly. “I just didn’t think-”

“It’s like I said,” Emma interrupted. “We understand each other. This world is really unfair so I say we make it beautiful here.” Leaning over him, she placed her hands on his shoulders.

She saw lust, desire, confusion, sadness, affection in his eyes and that should have made her run out of that room. But how could she when this was what she wanted most? His hand found her hip and she deserved an award for keeping it together at the touch of his strong, warm hand. “What do you say?” She urged.

“That works for m-”

Not wanting to waste any more time, she pressed her mouth against his just like she did in Neverland. And just like in that jungle, it only took a second for Hook to reciprocate the kiss, his mouth opening under her ministrations and giving just as good as she gave. His hand left her hip to thread into her hair while hers gripped his shoulders tighter, before she moved them down his shirt.

She had never seen him so undressed before, not even in the sweltering heat of Neverland. Her fingers found the open parting of his shirt and felt the surprisingly soft chest hair underneath. His responding moan to her touch had her hand clench in his chest, a wave of arousal wafting over her. His lips left hers and for a split second she was going to complain before she felt his lips on her jaw, on her neck, by her ear. Her mouth opened in silent pleasure as she felt his hand on the small of her back pressing her closer to him. Her hands were trapped between their chests but she wasn’t complaining.

His lips found her ear and she gasped at the feel of his teeth nibbling her earlobe before his tongue soothed the sensitive skin. A moan escaped her lips as her nails dug into his chest, his skin warm under her touch and making him gasp against her skin. Pulling away enough to free her hands but not so much as to stop his ministrations, she slipped her hands inside his shirt and began to slide it down his arms.

His hand left her back to completely remove his shirt and throw it god knows where. Without the distraction of his lips or her anxiety at starting this tryst, she took her time to look at his chest, her hands absent-mindedly following the path of her eyes. She took in his strong build, the muscles originated from hard work while at sea, his dark chest hair and the way it led down to a treasure she was excited to plunder tonight.

“Looked your fill?” Her eyes wandered up slowly to where he was watching her with interest, his lips red and full from the kisses they shared, his cheeks pink.

“Nope,” she answered, watching as his eyes widened in surprise before crossing her arms in front of her and pulling up her sweater and undershirt in one go. Boy, was she glad to have left her coat at home. She threw it behind her without looking, focused instead on the way his eyes took the same path her eyes had. His gaze felt like a touch and her skin broke into goosebumps at the thought. “Have you?”

He shook his head slowly as his hand ghosted its way up her back. She arched at the soft touch and she could swear his eyes darkened at the sight of her chest so close to his face. Before she could straighten her posture, she felt him pull her to him and then his mouth was on her collarbones, on her shoulders, on her chest, on the curve of her breast, pressing open mouth kisses on her bare skin. She fumbled behind her to unlatch her bra, removing it without disturbing his excellent work. She keened loudly when his lips latched onto her nipple, tongue lashing relentlessly and causing her to grind slowly against his lap.

She felt his responding groan against her flesh and his impressive erection between her legs. Her whole body lit up like the freaking fourth of July, her hands grabbed onto his head to keep him where she wanted him, to keep his talented mouth on her breasts. She had heard rumors of women orgasming just from this and thought them liars but this man was making her believe.

His hand, redundant in keeping her close to him, moved down her bare back until it reached the waist of her jeans. She wondered if he even knew what jeans were, if she should say something, if she should help him. All thoughts vanished from her head when he pressed his thumb hard against the ridge of her jeans, right on top of her aching clit. Was there like a clit magnet in that man’s finger? Her loud moan silenced any other noise.

With his left arm around her waist, his mouth on her other nipple and his thumb causing friction against her clit, she was almost sure that she was about to come like this. But there was something missing, and it wasn’t the way his teeth nibbled her flesh.

Her hands left his head and without the pull, he unlatched his mouth from her breast, looking up at her with dazed eyes and heavy breath. God, she wanted to commit that face to memory, engrave it in her brain. On instinct, she fused their mouths together, her nibbling on his lower lip just as he had done on her breast. He whimpered under her attention and, regrettably, his hand stopped moving. But that was probably for the best because it gave her the clarity of mind to reach for the button and zipper of her jeans.

“Emma…”

The way he moaned her name against her lips drew a shiver up her spine, her skin trembling in anticipation. With a last kiss to his swollen lips, she pulled away from his lap, sitting perpendicular to him on the right side of the bed. Glancing at his face, she saw the worry on his brow and the fear mixed with the lust in his eyes. But she couldn’t look at him any longer if she wanted to get out of these jeans. After a short struggle, she managed to peel the denim off her as well as her socks. Maybe she should be more concerned over where her clothes were going to end up but really, looking up to see the dark gaze of a plundering pirate just made everything else disappear.

Gone was the worry and fear, there was only desire in his eyes. Her mouth was parted as she breathed heavily and she leaned back on her hands, leaving her chest prominently out and vulnerable to his intense gaze. His hand landed on her ankle where it had landed on his lap, his thumb rubbing on her skin and causing goosebumps to rise up. Seemingly fascinated with her response, he moved his hand up her leg slowly before stopping on her thigh. His thumb reached the inside of her thigh and began to massage it carefully. An unexpected moan left her lips and she opened her legs wanting more of his touch and wanting it where she craved it most.

Swift as a cat, she blinked to find him on his knees between her legs, his eyes never leaving her underwear-clad center. His hand continued its upward motion on her leg, stopping at the apex of her thigh. His gaze met hers and his thumb met her clit, rubbing it in a slow circular motion. She moaned, throwing back her head. His thumb pressed firmly and she found her moans silenced by his desperate lips.

“You’re so wet, Emma,” he whispered against her lips, his thumb circling softly while his fingers quested to her center. Her hips stuttered under his touch. “Can I taste you?”

His desperate question had her letting out a quiet moan before nodding her head. Her head was full of fantasies of what his touch and kisses merely hinted at. He hooked his finger and metal substitute on her underwear, the cold of the appendage causing her skin to tremble. She raised her hips to allow him to remove them and he surprised her by placing a kiss above her clit, a small hint of what was to come, his breathy chuckle making her shiver as it hit her skin.

She couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t stop watching the way he kept his eyes on her center, on his focused frown, on his adoring lips. Damn, why hadn’t she done this before?

She watched as he laid down between her legs, as he raised her hips to place his arms underneath her ass, as his eyes darkened when her folds opened under his gaze. She watched as he lowered his head and yet still let out a gasping moan when he dragged his tongue from her center to her clit, wrapping his lips around it just as he had done with her nipples.

“You make the most delicious sounds, love,” he murmured and she felt the vibrations against her center making her thighs tremble.

“Please.” She begged quietly, unused to the feeling but knowing that there was nothing else she wanted to do. She begged for his touch, for his mouth, for him. “Please, Killian.”

She felt his eyes on her before, with a loud moan, his tongue returned to her aching center, flicking over her clit and taking her breath away, her hands grasping for his head, tangling in his hair. His hand grabbed onto her ass cheek, bringing her as closer to him as he could, kissing her below as he had up top. And what a talented mouth that man has.

“Say it again,” he asked desperately against her before his tongue flattened against her clit and wiggled.

She wasn’t even sure what he wanted or had enough breath to ask but when she cried out, “Fuck, Killian,” it must have been the right answer. Suddenly, he raised to his knees, bringing her hips up with him, keeping her against his mouth. Her legs fell over each of his shoulders and his arms wrapped around her waist. Fumbling to grab onto the sheets, onto something, she settled in for a loud ride. His mouth was relentless against her cunt, licking against her clit, penetrating her with his tongue. Her moans were ringing in her ears but all she cared about was how she could keep his mouth against her forever. When his lips wrapped around her clit once more and sucked, everything shattered around her, back arching as she called out his name in her climax.

Her breathing was heavy, her legs turned to jelly and she didn’t even know how she was going to move after that. His hand and hook gently lowered her to the bed and she brought her hands to her hair, trying to get a hold of her breathing. Damn.

“Alright, Swan?”

His voice caught her attention and she opened her eyes to watch him looking down at her, his eyes burning with desire, beard glistening, chest heaving and hand shifting his cock over his tight trousers. That vision caused a fresh wave of arousal to pool at her center.

Fuck.

She must have said it out loud because his hand tightened and his lips parted in a quiet gasp. Drunk on the way he was watching her, Emma lowered her hands down her chest, passing across her nipples. The short contact had her biting her lip as it sent a spark down her body. His eyes followed her hands as she slowly ran them down her belly to stop at the top of her thighs. His tongue passed through his lower lip and he closed his eyes in a hum.

The realization that he had likely tasted her in his lips had her circling her clit with her right pointer finger. He opened his eyes and she bit out a gasp at the way his pupils dilated at the sight of her pleasuring herself in front of him. Without taking his eyes off her circling finger, he unlaced his barely laced trousers, his cock springing out thick and hard. He took hold of it, his fist tightening around his base, and her mouth went dry.

Two of her fingers slid easily inside her and she delighted in the way his head tilted and his teeth dug into his lower lip. She brought them out to circle her clit and back inside a few times, with the same rhythm he ran his hand up and down on his cock. Satisfied with how much of her fluids she managed to accumulate on her fingers, she sat up under his watchful eyes.

Carefully bringing her fingers to his face, she smirked with the way he dutifully opened his mouth to welcome them. Her mouth parted as she breathed in sharply at the way he sucked and ran his tongue between them, cleaning all evidence of her arousal off of her fingers. Seemingly satisfied with his work, he released his hold on them but not before nibbling on her digits.

Biting her lip, she manhandled him until he was sitting back against the headboard. His eyes widened and his brow furrowed in confusion but, as she began to pull on his trousers, he bit his lip in excitement and lifted his hips to help her.

“Damn trousers,” she muttered in impatience under his amused grin.

“Never heard you complaining before.”

She rolled her eyes and his whole face lit up in mirth. Wanting to stop his amusement and proud that she had finally removed the leather, she ran her tongue across the length of him. His teasing stopped as he let out a guttural moan, his hand clenching into a fist where it rested on his lap. She grinned victorious as she took hold of his shaft to bring his tip into her eager mouth and sucked.

“Fuck.”

She preened under his unveiled pleasure, moving her hair over her shoulder, licked into his slit and moaned at the way his hand dug into the back of her neck. She took him further into her mouth and felt his hand clench in response. Taking hold of his wrist to urge him to take that control he so wanted, she relaxed her jaw and slowly lowered her head. He gasped and she felt him pull on her hair, inching her closer and closer to the base of his cock and she groaned in pleasure around him. She could feel herself getting wetter as she took more and more of him until her nose ghosted over his hip bone.

She felt him quickly pull her away from him and her bottom lip jutted out in an instinctive pout. She wanted more, needed more. He grinned over his heavy breathing and ran his thumb over her lower lip. She licked its tip and his grin widened.

“I’m afraid I would spend myself in your lovely mouth if you kept going.”

She rubbed her thighs together at the image he made appear in her head and she pinpointed the moment he noticed by the glint in his eyes. Maybe next time.

But there wouldn’t be a next time, would it?

She could feel her spiraling thoughts get out of control and before they could ruin this next, her last night, she straddled his hips, a knee on either side of him. Before he could take his next breath, she slanted her mouth over his, letting the feel of his mouth and her lingering taste in his tongue overwrite any thoughts that weren’t about him and his talented mouth.

Her hips ground against his length, slathering it with her arousal, and his hand left her head to take hold of her ass, fingers tightening against her flesh and urging her to keep moving her hips over him. She moved her lips over his scruffy jaw, his mouth free to encourage her with his heavy breathing and quiet moans, until she carefully bit into his earlobe.

“Killian,” she whispered, receiving a louder moan in return, her hand running down his chest until she felt his tip on her fingers. “I need it hard.”

As she bit more firmly in the flesh behind his ear, she raised her hips and lowered herself onto him. He entered her fully, taking away her breath and making her arch her back in one swift move. His moan was echoed in hers as she felt his left arm wrap around her waist to keep her close.

She tried to control her breathing, her body adjusting to his length, to the wonderful feeling of being connected to him. She joined their foreheads with a satisfied sigh and moved her hips in a tentative thrust. The feel of him inside her had them moaning in unison and she wanted nothing more than to hear that sound over and over again. Grasping onto his shoulders, she raised her hips until only his tip rested inside her.

“Tonight, I’m yours,” he whispered against her lips, his hand returning to the side of her neck, his left arm still heavy around her waist.

Tonight, she was his.

She slammed her hips down on his and didn’t wait before she raised them again. Her movements were helped by his returning grip to her hip, urging to move as fast as she wanted, to take as much as she needed. He gave her control and she took it, moving up and down in his lap, taking her pleasure. She buried her face against his neck, her moans silenced against his skin, thighs trembling as she felt her orgasm build up.

His thumb against her clit had her tumbling down into her climax, her back arching and head thrown back in a loud moan of his name. With a growl, she found herself on her back, his still hard length deep inside her and his mouth on her neck bringing her back to the present.

She dug her fingers through his hair, keeping him against her skin, his almost imperceptible thrusts along with his hardworking lips preparing her for another round. Never had it been like this. She pulled his head up to look at her, wanting to look into his eyes, wanting to see his face when he came. She ran her thumb over his swollen bottom lip like he had done before and felt the rush of affection mirrored in his eyes overtake her.

“Make me forget,” She pleaded, her eyes reflecting the anxiety and panic she wanted to push away. All she wanted was to forget that soon, she would have to leave this town behind. She would have to forget her family; she would have to watch the only people who had ever wanted her disappear.

His hand trailed from her shoulder down and up to her wrist. He moved one of her hands away from his neck so he could kiss her palm, a kiss she felt all over her eager body, before he placed her arm more firmly around his neck. Knowing what he wanted from her, she moved her own arm, holding her own hand behind his neck. His lips ticked up in a small smile and he urged her to wrap her legs around his waist.

She let out a gasp when he shifted his hips adjusting his position. He smirked before he planted a lingering kiss on her lips. “As you wish, Emma.” The sound of her name washed over her and lit up the smoldering fire inside her.

Her moan was loud and deep at the way he began to thrust against her, a slow, deep grind made to fan the fire into a hot blaze. His chest rubbed against her nipples and her breath quickened. She could feel the hum inside her telling her that this orgasm would be just as good as the others, even if he just kept that touch, that speed.

To her displeasure, he stilled his hips and moved his chest away. Her nails dug into his back, desperate to keep him there, desperate for the release. She whined, opening her eyes to complain but fell silent when she saw his wrecked expression, his mirrored desperation.

Waiting, feeling the buzz of expectation under her skin, she watched as he took a deep steadying breath. She watched as he kneeled on the bed, his thighs glued to hers. Her hands fell to the bed as he straightened up, fisting the sheets at the look of hunger in his eyes. He ran the side of his hook down her thigh, the sensation making her bite her lip and moan when the tip rubbed carefully over her nipple. So lost in pleasure, she barely noticed when he maneuvered her legs until they were straightened against his chest. His hook left her breast so he could lift her hips up off the bed and slide a pillow under her ass, aligning them perfectly.

Without warning, he reared his hips before slamming against her causing her to scream out. “Oh, fuck!” His lips pulled into a dirty grin, she could feel every inch of him inside her and, unable to gain any traction, all she could do was hang on for the delightful ride.

With unrivaled gusto, he slammed his hips again and again, the sounds of slapping skin, of his heavy breathing, of her loud moans, filling the room. The world around them vanished, all that existed was him and her, his touch, his moans and groans, her whimpers and shouts, his skin, her skin, them.

The speed at which her orgasm hit her should have surprised her but he felt so good and filled her up so well that she was more surprised that it had taken that long. She clenched around him and his hips stuttered before he threw his head back, the veins in his neck straining with his restraint.

“Come, Killian,” she begged, needing to feel him, needing to see him. “Come for me.”

As if he had only been waiting for her order, his deep groan preceded the twitching of his cock inside her as he spilled his release. The feel of him filling her drew out her orgasm, making her feel so full, so right, so complete. His grip on her legs loosened as he came down from his high and, no longer restrained, she let them drop to the bed on either side of him. Grabbing his wrists, she eased him down on top of her until his warm body covered every inch of her, his head nestled on her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair as they took control of their breathing, as she felt him soften inside her, as their bodies cooled down, unrushed.

Her fingers drifted onto his back, running up and down the light welts of scars she could feel, the marks of his long life, of his difficult life. She felt him placing chaste kisses on her skin as his breathing returned to normal. He touched on her own scars with those gifted lips, touched on the scars of her loneliness, her abandonment, and created another, a deep cut down her chest, and cauterizing it with the warmth of his breath. Her sigh was deep and satisfied as she cupped his head. His teeth nibbled on her stomach and she let out a breathy chuckle that he returned.

“I hope you weren’t thinking of sleeping tonight,” she warned, his mouth on her keeping the fire inside her alive. “It’s not morning yet.”

He hummed a denial, the vibration against her nipple making her bite her lip. “With you in my bed? Not bloody likely.”

Her laugh turned into a moan as he sucked a mark on her breast, her nails digging into his shoulders. His hum of pleasure guided her into dragging her nails down his back, likely leaving red marks in her way. Still inside her, she felt his cock twitch. Interesting.

Taking hold of his hair and pulling his face to hers, she took a mental note of their mutual enjoyment of hair pulling and landed a smacking kiss on his lips. She pulled away to find him grinning at her, his eyes soft under the blaze of renewed desire. She clenched around him, drawing a hiss out of him and a grin from her.

“I need to go to the bathroom but-” She gestured with her head before pushing against his chest and against her will, causing him to slip out of her. He moved away slowly, reluctantly until they were both sitting on the bed. She pulled him to her for a dirty kiss, swallowing his moan with her lips. “Get yourself ready for me, won’t you?” Her innocent question was accompanied by a not-so-innocent drag on her nails over his hip bone, his responding moan feeding her growing arousal.

He nodded dazedly, watching her under hooded eyes as she slipped out of bed. She turned around to step to the bathroom, stopping when she felt the swat of his hand on her ass. She looked over her shoulder to see him settling down on the bed with a poor imitation of an innocent smile. She rolled her eyes to mask her smile before carrying on her way.

When she exited the bathroom, she found him still splayed on the bed watching for her return, his hand moving slowly up and down his half-hard shaft. Leaning against the doorway, she saw his cock twitch under her interested gaze, her hand moving up her body. Under his wicked grin, she sauntered to the bed, settling into his inviting lap, kissing the smile off his face.

The next hours passed much like the previous, his talented mouth and cock dragging several orgasms out of her, his body full of marks from her own mouth, her nails and palms. His hook had created its own set of marks on her body, marks that drew a symphony of moans from her before it ended up digging into the mattress, cutting into like a hot knife through butter. They didn’t talk, nothing except moans, praises and demands escaping out of their lips.

“There’s not a day that will go by that I won't think of you,” he’d whispered against her temple as she came down from another earth-shattering orgasm and she wanted nothing more than to return the sentiment, to assure him that she would think of this night, of him, everyday.

But she couldn’t, so she kissed his chest instead, moving her lips higher and higher until she found his lips, leading them to another round, to another orgasm, to another memory. And at dawn, she kissed his parted lips and slipped unnoticed from his slumbering body.

She met her family at the townline, almost thankful for the sadness of the moment as it stopped any questions they might have for her whereabouts that night, or why she winced with every step she took and how it masked her anger at having to say goodbye to something she was already missing. And she missed him. Missed them. Missed her family. Missed Storybrooke.

But still, she drove away from the town she had called home with her son beside her and sent a silent goodbye to the man she wished to remember, the man she had left asleep in his room. She said goodbye to Killian Jones and to the future he could have given her. She was almost thankful that she was losing her memories.

---

When he appears at her door, a bright happy smile on his face and her name spilling from his lips, she is surprised to find him in front of her. For so long, he was the main character in her dreams, in her fantasies, the first and only person she would think about at night, the man whose mere idea was enough to have her refuse that furniture seller’s invitation. And feeling his lips against hers sparks something inside her, a feeling of right, of balance, of peace.

But she pushes him away, she brings her knee up to his crotch and she closes the door on his face. It’s impossible and she refuses it, ignoring the way her heart is still pounding on her chest.

But he’s persistent. Deep down, she knew he wouldn’t give up. He says his name is Killian and she can almost feel the way her mouth would wrap around it in the throes of passion. His name is Killian and he tells her impossible things. He begs her to trust him and damn her, she does. She takes the vial from his hand and downs the liquid in one go. The memories assault her all at once - her parents, her son, Storybrooke, him.

“Killian?”

His eyes soften with his smile. “Did you miss me?”

She hears the teasing tone in his voice but she also sees the way his eyes plead with her, burn into her, and she does, she misses him so much that it’s almost like a physical tether pulling her to him. She takes hold of his face, vial forgotten on the floor, and pulls his lips to hers, hoping her desperate kiss answers his question. His arms wrapping tightly around her waist tells her it does.

“Emma-”

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” she interrupts, her forehead touching his, her eyes clenched shut. “I wasn’t going to be able to leave if you were awake, and I-”

He silences her with a kiss, this one a mere press of his lips and she feels his smile against her mouth. “I know, love.” His hand cups her face, his thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. “I missed you too.”

She pulls him for a deep kiss, her tongue finding its way into his mouth, their moans lost against their lips, her fingers buried in his hair. She can still feel the way he touched, the way he held her, the way he marked her, the way he filled her. There is a burning inside her and she yearns for him just as she did that night a year ago.

“Wanna come to my apartment?” she murmurs against his lips, grinning at the way his hand tightens on her hip.

“I’ll follow you anywhere, love.” And she believes him.

The walk back to her apartment isn’t long and she has done that path many times over the past year but now, hand in hand with the man she wants nothing more than to see naked again, it feels like an eternity. As they reach her door, she sends a silent thanks to Henry’s sleepover plans before opening it. She pulls Killian inside by the lapel of his coat, his back slamming against the door and closing it in a quick movement. His pleased grin tells her he likes it when she takes control but she is much more interested in what his mouth can do when it’s kissing her.

She has eliminated any space between them, letting her feel his moan reverberate against her chest. Her hands have found their way inside his coat and she is grasping and pulling at his shirt and waistcoat needing him naked. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” She complains before she slips his large coat from his shoulders.

“So are you.” His hand grasps at her jean-clad rear while his hook digs into her sweater. She hums in agreement and grins at his displeased moan when she pulls away from him.

“I need space to take off my clothes, don’t you think?” With a pointed gaze, she drops her coat and pulls off her sweater.

“I’m incapable of thought around you, love.” He speaks towards her breasts and she would roll her eyes if she didn’t feel the goosebumps his intense gaze caused. Wanting to expedite the removal of their clothes, she began to walk backwards into her room and away from his grasp.

Almost like he is reading her mind, he unbuttons his vest one-handed, the sight reminding her of his masterful fingers and the way he played her. He unbuttons his shirt only enough to pull it off by the collar. Her hands fall to the button of her jeans just as his find his laces. She kicks off her boots and throws them somewhere in the room, his bigger ones receiving the same treatment. They stand in the middle of her bedroom when she finally removes her jeans. His trousers fall to the floor and she is reminded of how the Enchanted Forest probably doesn’t have boxers when his cock is free to be admired by her lustful gaze.

“Swan.” His hoarse voice makes her drift her gaze up to his eyes and she is reminded of their fire, of their lust, now and then. “You’re looking at me like you want to devour me.” There’s no complaint, it’s almost like a wish he doesn’t want to admit to but she does.

Slowly, she steps up to him, his cock so close to her. Her eyes remain on his and the way they darken at her proximity. With a smirk, she grasps his length in her fist and nibbles at his parted lower lip. “That’s because I do.”

Swiftly and silently thanking her carpeted floor, she sinks down to her knees, wasting no time in dragging her tongue along the underside of his cock, the memory and the feeling of how he feels inside her mouth causing her to moan against him. His hand wastes no time in grasping onto her hair and she rewards him by welcoming him inside her mouth.

His moan echoes in her room and she closes her eyes in pleasure, in happiness. Her mouth works around him slowly but determinedly, his loud response spurring her on. Her hand slips between her legs to find her already wet center and circles her clit with her finger. His hand flexes on her hair and she drags her teeth over his underside dragging a loud curse from him. Tongue lapping over his slit, she looks up to find his eyes on her, burning with hunger.

“Pull my hair,” she orders before taking a deep breath and taking his whole length down her throat. His shout is loud and she slides two fingers inside her. She smiles internally when his fist twists in her hair and pulls, moving her up and down his length, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

“Fuck!” he curses before she feels him pull her away from his cock. She looks up at him breathing heavily and with her fingers rubbing small circles over her clit. “Fuck…” he repeats in a dazed whisper before he pulls her to her feet by her hair and crashes their mouths together, moans lost in the intense kiss. “What a heavenly mouth you have, Swan,” he whispers when they pull away, his teeth pulling on her bottom lip.

“I need you inside me,” she whimpers, grinding her hips where his cock is pressed against her belly. “Please, Killian.”

His growl is the only warning she gets before his lips slant over hers and his hook tears at her bra. She moans against his mouth as she removes it the rest of the way and her nipples rub against his chest hair. She feels the bed against the back of her knees but is not allowed to fall with the way his left arm holds her against him.

“I won’t last long,” he warns, looking into her eyes, his lips swollen and red like hers must look.

“Me either.” She can feel it, deep inside her, that earth-shattering orgasm she knows is about to be pulled out of her. They have all day, all night, forever. That thought has her pull his lips to hers, her nails digging into his back, his moan reverberating in her chest, in her heart.

He nods with closed eyes before he turns her around and she finds herself face down on her bedspread, feet on her carpeted floor and nudged apart by his. Her hips sway in expectation, in the feeling of him filing her once more, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. She feels him peeling off her underwear and then his lips at her lower back, at her hips, kissing at the uncovered skin of her plump cheeks, her hands fisting her sheets at his touch.

At the same time her underwear slips down to her ankles, his mouth finds her center, pulling a gasping moan from her lips. His pleased hum vibrates against her folds and she moves her hips closer to his face. “You’re so ready for me, love.”

She nods and looks at him over her shoulder. “It’s been a long time.”

A shadow passes over his eyes before he nods. “Then let’s not wait any longer.”

“Please.” Her hips wiggle and begging becomes easier with him, when she knows she can lower her walls and he’ll keep her safe.

The world rights itself when he slowly drags against her walls and she feels like she found the missing piece of a puzzle. His chest is heaving as he waits for her to adjust to him, his eyes burning against her skin when she clenches around him. “Take me, Killian.”

His hips pull back and she is already waiting for the moment they’ll return to her. Her moan is lost in the plush quilt when he bottoms out inside her. His pace is relentless against her and it almost makes her forget the year they were apart. Almost. His brace keeps her hips in place while his hand on her upper back keeps her chest against the bed, her nipples rubbing against the fabric with every thrust. His hips stutter against her at a particularly deep thrust and she wonders how long he’ll be able to last and if it’ll be long enough for her to join him.

Before she can move her hand to her clit to help her along, his hand runs up to the back of her neck, fisting her hair and pulling. The pain mixed with pleasure is delicious and she needlessly places her hands on the bed to hold her up. “Yes! More, please, harder!”

His fist tightens in her hair and it’s almost perfect, she just needs- The curve of his hook on her clit, pressing against her bundle of nerves, brings her to a loud climax, his name echoing in the hot room. She is pulled to an upright position and his arms wrap around her waist, slamming one, two, three more times against her before he comes with his mouth against her shoulder. His chest heaves against her back, his breathing is hot on her shoulder and she can feel their release drip down her legs. It’s perfect.

“Emma,” he whispers as his lips kiss their way up her neck. “I missed you so much.” His voice is wrecked over more than their straining activities and she lets her head fall over his shoulder to kiss his jawline.

“Come with me,” she mumbles against his skin, wincing when he slips out of her. Taking hold of his hand, she pulls him to her ensuite. “We need a shower.”

They are quiet as she guides him inside the glass case before she follows. They are quiet as the warm water runs down their bodies, as they slather their bodies in soap, as he massages shampoo in her hair with his hand, as she does the same for him, as they let the water clean them of any remaining product. It’s good - feeling him so close, his touch, his presence. She wants it everyday. She wants him, not just his body, him.

Still without talking, she guides their dry bodies under her sheets, not caring for the afternoon sun still shining outside her window. She needs to lay with him, she needs to have this slow moment with him, to have this time. His eyes stay on hers as they lay on their sides facing each other under her cozy sheets and his hand leaves her grip to move her still damp hair behind her ear, his fingers ghosting over her jawline until his thumb runs over her bottom lip.

“You came to bring me home, didn’t you?” She doesn’t wait for his answer, knows it already. “Something happened.”

“I came back for you,” he answers, his hand taking hers back in his grip. “Something has happened but to be honest, I was just waiting for an excuse to come back to you. Someone sent me a memory potion and a message that a curse was coming, so I took the Jolly Roger as fast as I could away from its purview.”

Her eyes widen. “You outran a curse?”

“I’m a hell of a Captain.” His smirk is small but it still makes his eyes shine and she brings her free hand to his face. His eyes flutter closed at her touch. “As soon as the dust settled, I knew that the barriers were down and all I needed was a magic bean to find you.”

“Magic beans are not easy to come by.” Her eyebrows rise in surprise and suspicion.

“They are if you have something of value to trade.” His words are careful and his eyes lower to her shoulder.

“Like what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head before returning his gaze to hers, pain hidden beneath resolve. “Now that you have your memories back, we can return to Storybrooke and see what the damage is. All that matters is that you remember.”

There is more to the story, she can tell. She had seen his desperation for her memories to return and now she sees the grief he tries to hide. “What did you trade for the bean, Killian?”

His eyes and mouth widen at her unrelenting questioning and for a moment, she wonders if he is going to lie to her. “It really is of no consequence, Em-.”

With her hands on his shoulders, she forces his back onto the mattress while she sits looking down at him, her eyes drilling into his. “What was the price?”

He sighs defeatedly. “The Jolly Roger.”

Her breathing stops and she feels her lips part and eyes widen. His ship, his home, and he traded it to bring her back, for her. She can feel her heart slam against her chest at the realization but instead of panic, there is something else, something scarier, something that had ruined her before.

But as she looks into his eyes, those loyal, determined blue eyes, she realizes that this is different, she is different and he is different too. And suddenly, it all comes down to a simple truth. “I love you, Killian.”

It comes unrestrained, the words wrapping around the silence that fills the room. His eyes are bright and wide, an overwhelming hope and disbelief making her want to repeat those words until he believes in them. So she does, her voice stronger than before, more confident.

“I love you.”

She is an open book to him. He reads her heart in her eyes and she sees the moment he finds that simple, wonderful truth. His lips stretch out into a dazzling smile, the definition of happiness. “I love you, Emma.” And how could you not smile at such beautiful words?

Their lips meet in a soft kiss, softer than any kiss they had shared but just as good, if not better. The kiss is more than skin connecting with skin. She feels whole as his arms wrap around her and her hands cup his face. She loves him and he loves her.

It is perfect.

Tomorrow, she’d worry about fairytale parents, villains and curses. Tomorrow, she’d be their Savior. Tomorrow, she'll go back home. Tomorrow, she’d worry.

Today? Today, she is going to enjoy the feel of Killian’s arms around her. Today, she is going to let him love her with his mouth, with his body, with his words, with his actions. Today, she is going to be Emma Swan, the woman who loves a fairytale pirate and is loved in return.

#carolina writes #killian jones #emma swan #smut #cs smut #canon divergence #season 3 mid season finale #captainswan #ouat #once upon a time #cs ff #ouat ff

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princess-and-the-swan · 4 months

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MC Fic Rec: Somebody that I used to know

By I_should_be_doing_other_things | Rating: M

This is an angsty fic that switches back and forth between the time Emma and Killian get stuck in the past and the time they come back. In this fic, Killian and Emma spend years stuck in the past and eventually fall in love and get married, but when they come back, it's clear that something went very wrong. Complete with a WIP sequel.

Read it on AO3

Read the sequel

#ouat #captain swan #cs fic rec #emma swan #killian jones #enchanted forest au #canon divergence #pregnancy #angst #hurt/comfort #rating: m

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kazoosandfannypacks · 1 year

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"Wishing it Wasn't" by kazoosandfannypacks

Chapter 9/18: Reflections Pairing: CaptainSwan Rating: General Word Count: (1.1K/19.5K) Summary: Season 2 Canon Divergence: When Neal tells Emma he has a fiancée, she claims to have a new boyfriend of her own, and blurts out the first fairytale name she can think of: Captain Hook. Killian agrees to this ruse, but when feelings grow between the two, will the con be more than they can handle? Chapter Summary: Emma and Killian separately reflect on their evening together. Tags: season 2, canon divergence, gun violence in later chapters, angst with a happy ending, fake dating, mild character death, mildly anti neal Author's notes: >:} Taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @pirateprincessofpizza @pawshapedheart [if you'd like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

"Thanks for everything." Emma said, parking the car by the docks.

"My pleasure." He hadn't looked at her since she kissed him, and he wasn't breaking that streak now.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for his door, but she hit the auto door lock before he could, trying to smooth things out before he left.

"Hook," She said softly, placing her hand on his arm, "I shouldn't have done that, should I have?"

"What?" He asked.

"I shouldn't've kissed you." Emma said. "I crossed a line. I'm sorry."

"We did what we set out to do, Swan." He said, and he slightly twisted his arm out of her grip. "You've sufficiently proven to Neal that he made the wrong choice."

"Right." Emma said. She unlocked his car door. "Want me to walk you back to your ship?"

"I think I can manage."

"Oh, your jacket." Emma said, almost forgetting she was wearing it for how natural it felt to be wearing it.

"Keep it 'til tomorrow." He said. "Give it back to me when they're around."

It seemed like a good plan, but he said it so deadpan, monotone, almost upset- not nearly the same man he'd been twenty minutes ago.

"Alright." Emma said. "Goodnight, Killian."

"Goodnight." He said, almost coldly, not even bracketing it with a "Swan," or a "love," or even an "Emma."

Without another word, he left the car, left Emma sitting there, alone with her thoughts. They'd done what they wanted to do- they'd made Neal jealous, they'd kept up the ruse, they'd proven she's just as well off without him.

But the problem was she'd had fun doing it. She actually had a great time that night, once or twice even forgetting that their date was just fake. But then at the end, should she really have kissed him, just to make Neal jealous? Even if that didn't cross the line, kissing him again after she knew they were gone? That definitely did.

But Emma had to remind herself this is Captain Hook. His reputation preceded him- rumors floating around said he knew the names of the bar wenches in every port in the realm, that he'd never met a girl who didn't succumb to his charm, that he went through women faster than he did bottles of rum- and she knew how quickly he burned through bottles of rum.

She watched in her rearview mirror as he walked back down the docks, onto his invisible ship, and disappeared from view.

Had David been right? Had she neglected to be careful with Killian's emotions? He seemed like he was really enjoying himself with her- until she kissed him, that was.

She pulled his jacket just a bit tighter around her shoulders.

"That kiss was awful for him." She thought, her mind racing but the town standing still. "Why shouldn't it be? He's a pirate. He doesn't care about me. He doesn't like me. Because if he did, why would he get so upset when I kissed him?"

The only reason she saw that he had to be so upset by her kiss was if he didn't feel the same way about her. He'd flirted with her because he flirts with everyone, he'd pretend courted her tonight so she didn't throw him in jail, and, much like many men she'd met, he would only follow his interests in her to the brink of commitment- anything more than that would be too much for him- and Emma had started to cross that line.

She sighed as she eventually started the car.

"David was right." Emma thought. "I played with fire and I got burned."

She tried to shift her focus to other things- Cora and Regina being in town, the stranger who'd come in just before she left, trying to keep the secrets of the town from him, and from Tamara.

But still, that little voice in the back of her head was antagonizing, berating her, bogging her down with insecurities, reminding herself of her place, her place as the only woman in all the realms who could scare off the notorious Captain Hook.

---

"Does she know she's the only thing on my mind right now?" The notorious Captain Hook thought as he watched her drive away from his vantage point on The Jolly Roger. He was thankful she couldn't see him, that she hadn't been able to see how he'd turned back to watch her as soon as he was cloaked, how he stayed there until she'd disappeared too.

He looked up at the sky as he walked the gangplank, hoping to take familiar comfort in the constellations he often used to navigate- then remembered he was in a land with entirely different stars.

Everything in this land felt different, in an almost intimidating way. Hard roads designed to be used by vehicles that move so fast they can break a rib. Deep fried seafood. Food that comes in pre packaged boxes. Short jackets, short skirts- not that they were a bad thing, of course, just not quite what he was used to.

And yet, whenever he was with Swan, he couldn't help but feel like he was used to her. There was something about her that felt so safe to him, like a harbor, like The Jolly Roger, like….

He put his head in his hands as he sat on the steps to the forecastle deck.

There was something about Emma Swan that felt like a home.

He sighed as he pulled out his flask, knowing that no matter how he saw her, it couldn't change how she saw him.

"I'm just a pirate in her eyes." Killian thought. "I'm just a means to an end. She's just using me to get to Neal."

Killian had a hard time reconciling in his mind that the man he'd sat across from in the restaurant was the same kid who'd once stood on the deck of his ship, threatening Killian's life when he thought he was the one who'd killed Milah.

"What's become of you, Baelfire?" Killian whispered. "Where's that kid who just wanted to be a hero?

All that Baelfire ever wanted was a family- and as much as Killian tried to deny it, he really was the one who tore apart Bae's first family. He felt like he owed it to that boy he once knew to not wreck his chances this time, that if an opportunity came up for Emma and Henry to be Neal's family again, that he owed that much to him, just a fighting chance, without a devilishly handsome pirate standing in the way.

"It's better that way." Killian thought. "Swan deserves better than me."

And he looked up at the unfamiliar stars, he found himself silently hoping that Neal could be that man for her.

#once upon a time fanficton #cs fanfic #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #once upon a time #ouat #season 2 #canon divergence #kazzy writes

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spartanguard · 2 years

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green with envy

Summary: Being back in Storybrooke brought up a lot of emotions in Emma—some forgotten, some new, and mostly unpleasant. Is that why she literally seems to be turning green with envy? And what can she do about it? (canon-divergent-ish from 3x14)

A/N: Hello! I am still here! This is just a kind of silly idea I've had floating around for a while, and finally finished. All the thanks to @optomisticgirl for looking it over! Hope you enjoy it!

rated T | 5.7k | AO3

Emma was wired with nervous energy as she and her dad shuffled into the loft. Finding the Witch’s hideout—and apparently that she had been holding the supposedly-dead Dark One captive—was definitely jarring, but it wasn’t the only thing that had her on edge.

That moment with Hook in the woods was still playing through her mind.

“If it can be broken, that means it still works.”

Despite the distance she’d put between them after it (even though she came dangerously close to closing it), the idea lingered. She hated that he wasn’t as wrong as she wanted him to be, but mostly, she was envious that he could still have such an optimistic outlook, especially knowing that he’d been through as much shit as her, if not more, in the heartbreak department.

Jealousy wasn’t a good look on anyone, but that hadn’t stopped her from metaphorically taking on the same pallor as the forest around her. So she was going to try to ignore that—and him—as much as she could. There were much bigger issues at hand. But for now, she’d settle with a nap and a drink.

Cruelly, though, this new curse had taken her mother’s expectant condition into account, and upon inspection of the cabinets and fridge, there wasn’t a drop of anything harder than ginger ale in the loft. She was making a mental note to bug Granny for the good stuff once she got back to the inn, but her mom had a different idea.

“Well, Zelena left this tea here,” Snow offered, holding what looked like a homemade tea bag. “It’s green, so it’s got too much caffeine for me, and your father doesn’t like it. Why don’t you take it?”

Eh, what the hell; it would do in a pinch. And Emma did have to admit, as she sipped it from one of the mugs she’d favored before the first curse had broken, that it was probably the best green tea she’d had in a while, even better than from her favorite sushi place in New York.

It worked, for a bit, even though it made her a little homesick for the Big Apple. (The shot of whiskey she eventually got from Granny helped, too.)

And, like she was prone to, she swallowed down all those difficult feelings as she drifted off to sleep that night.

═══════════════

The alarm on her phone came way too early the next morning, even if it was one of her favorite songs. She started to groan and curl inward, until she remembered that Henry was still asleep, and quickly silenced both her phone and herself. She shivered a bit as she got out from under the thick covers, wishing she could stay in the warmth but knowing she had stuff to do.

That didn’t stop the brief pang of jealousy as she looked over at Henry, still asleep and snug in his bed. But that was why she was doing this, right? To make sure he stayed safe and comfortable? She’d take a nap this afternoon or something.

As quietly as she could manage, she grabbed some clothes and headed into the bathroom to get dressed and ready. Except—was it just her, or were the lights in there terrible? She knew she was probably a little pasty after having spent most of the last year indoors, but she didn’t think she looked…green.

It looked better after she put on her foundation, though, so she finished her makeup, pressed a kiss on Henry’s head, grabbed her coat, and headed downstairs to meet her parents and the rest of their motley witch-hunting crew.

She blatantly ignored the flip of her stomach when she saw Killian was already in the sitting room, quickly jumping into business with her parents, who were also expectedly punctual. They set a plan for the day, and if Killian noticed that she intentionally put distance between them—both during their meeting and in their plan of action—he made no effort to breach it, thankfully.

Though even that was its own kind of torture—that he knew her so well as to give her space. Ugh.

Anyways. The rest of the day went without event—no progress, but no setbacks, either. She’d take that as its own kind of win, and couldn’t wait for one of Granny’s grilled cheeses for dinner.

At least, she had been, until she walked into the diner and saw Killian seated at the counter, leaning across it with a lascivious smirk on his face as he apparently flirted with Ruby. That jealous feeling from this morning turned her stomach again, so badly that she made a dash for the restroom. She thought she heard a “Swan” spoken on her breeze as she crossed the dining room, but she didn’t want to stop.

In the privacy of the ladies’ room, she took a deep breath. The nauseous feeling dissipated, but the longing didn’t quite. She splashed some water on her face to cool the flush that had arisen, and put a bit on her neck, too—but when she brought her hand back, it wasn’t red on her throat…it was more green, all along the left side. Not anything dramatic, but a noticeable change from her normal skin tone, and she couldn’t blame it on the lighting this time..

What the hell? Was there something wrong with the water? Maybe she should shower at her parents’ tomorrow.

But for now, she just tied her scarf tighter around her neck and decided to call it a night; there were some Pop-Tarts in the room that would have to suffice (goodness knew she’d had worse meals in the past).

She hit something warm, solid, and wrapped in leather when she emerged, though. “Love, are you alright?” Killian had a steadying hand on her shoulder and worry in his brow.

“I’m fine; just tired,” she said quickly, stepping away from him—and pointedly avoiding his eyes.

“Swan, I know that’s not the whole of it,” he protested as she started to move for the stairs.

“Well, it’s certainly part,” she tossed back. “I’ll see you tomorrow; tell Ruby I said hi.”

She probably didn’t need to say that last part, but the jab felt good as she took the stairs two at a time. (The fact that he had no response—and knowing it was a low blow—wasn’t something she’d think about until she was safe in her room. She also may have feigned a headache as a reason to dim the lights, lest Henry notice the odd spot on her neck.)

═══════════════

It seemed like the spot had faded the next day; or, at least, she’d done a good job of convincing herself it had. She still needed her scarf to cover it, though; winter in Storybrooke necessitated one, so no one would really notice.

In fact, she was feeling totally fine until she got down to the dining room. Henry had headed down first (only after promising not to talk to strangers, which was still most of town) and she saw him across the way, seated at a booth, laughing. For a minute, she was confused, until she saw David was sitting across from him.

She should have been happy to see that, even without Henry’s memories, he was still getting on well with his grandfather, and how good David was with him regardless. She may still have a hard time accepting David as her father, but there was no denying the man’s paternal leanings.

The longer she watched, the more that sour, jealous feeling stirred in her stomach again. Henry didn’t have a complicated relationship with his father—not that he knew about, anyway; and he didn’t have to grapple with all the fairytale BS in his background. (She may have told him that he came via stork when he asked when he was 5, but that was still more probable than being shoved through an intra-realm portal in a tree.)

But at the same time, she didn’t want to rain on their good time with her descending mood, so she took the last seat on the counter instead. Granny almost immediately noticed the way she was slouching in her seat. “Hot chocolate and bear claw?” she called out from the other end of the bar.

“Please,” Emma gratefully replied.

It only took her a minute to get the necessary sustenance to Emma, and she expertly slid them across the counter. But before Emma could even pick up the mug, Granny’s firm grip was holding her chin. “Hold on there, girl; you have something on your nose.”

Emma had never known the feeling of a grandparent tending to her; it was simultaneously touching and embarrassing—especially when Granny used a little too much force trying to wipe away whatever was on her face. “Huh; it’s not budging. How did you get green on there, anyway?” she asked, narrowing her eyes and peering closer.

Shit—more of that? What the hell? “Oh, I must have knocked into something and bruised it,” she quickly lied, hopping up off her stool and out of Granny’s grasp, covering her nose with her hand. “I should…probably go look at it; I’ll bring the dishes back,” she blurted out, grabbing her plate and mug, and hurrying back upstairs (well, as fast as she dared with a mug of steaming hot cocoa).

Once back in her room, she set the food items aside and ran to the bathroom, flicking on the light. Sure enough, there was a greenish smudge on the side of her nose—not terribly dark, but noticeable.

Quickly, she grabbed her concealer stick and attacked her nose. A few times. That seemed to moderately cover it up. But this was getting weird; just what was in the water here that was causing—whatever this was? A rash, maybe? She’d gotten hives from nerves a couple of times; maybe this was related?

She stared for one more minute, but then just sighed and put her concealer in her pocket. There were bigger things to worry about than some weird blemish.

To her dismay, she ended up needing it more often than she expected. It seemed like every time she was in the restroom, she was reapplying makeup on some new spot. The rest of her nose changed color after a meeting in the mayor’s office, where Regina and Robin were shamelessly flirting (and honestly, they should just get together—but she envied that they both seemed so comfortable together); she had to cover up a spot on her chin after patrolling the woods with Robin and Roland and being in awe of how great a dad Robin was (she was jealous of how confident he was, and maybe a bit that Henry didn’t have any positive male role models like Roland did in abundance); and nearly caked it on the back of her hand during another stop at Granny’s, just after seeing a mouthwatering-looking grilled cheese on someone else’s plate.

As she frowned at her pallor in Granny’s washroom, still coveting that sandwich, she had to remind herself that envy didn’t look good on anyone, even though that was all she’d been feeling all day.

Wait—was that it?

Was she literally turning green with envy?

This was Storybrooke; stranger things had certainly happened. (Flying monkeys, anyone?)

But…this seemed like a step too far. No, it was just a weird rash or something. She’d just make a dermatologist appointment when they got back to New York, she’d get some cream, and it’d go away in a couple weeks. Yup, that was all.

And everything was fine until she went back out to meet Henry for dinner. She glanced around the dining room for him, only for her stomach to turn more than once.

First, when she saw Killian seated at the counter with Tink, deep in what seemed like a friendly, light conversation. There was a salacious smirk on his face, but Tink looked to be giving it right back to him—especially when he threw his head back and laughed, showing off the cords of his neck and that constantly teasing bit of chest hair that seemed to become even more exposed as his body heaved and shook. She’d love to have something like that with him, but her damn walls and worries kept that from happening.

Forcing herself to look away, her gaze settled on her parents, seated together on one side of a booth. The way they were cuddled together was almost sickly sweet, but what really got to her was the way David’s hand rested high on Snow’s so-round baby bump, likely feeling her future little sibling move around. God, was Granny chopping onions? She wiped some mist from her eyes, but it was hard to ignore the overwhelming jealousy she felt—both that her baby sibling would always know they were loved and wanted, and that she had to go through her own pregnancy just like she’d done everything else in life: alone.

God, she was queasy from how much it stung—both of those sights. Hopefully no one had seen her yet because, oh god—she was gonna be sick.

Fast as she could, she ran back to her room, just making the toilet in time before bile came up. She felt flushed and angry and bitter, even if she really had no reason to feel those things—or every reason to, and had just been triggered too many times in one day.

She turned back to the sink and ran the cold water, splashing a bit on her face to hopefully cool her overheated skin. She closed her eyes and did briefly enjoy the sensation; it helped a bit. At least, until she opened her eyes.

Because when she did, it became blatantly obvious that her hands were green.

And so were her forearms, when she pushed up her sleeves.

And then she looked in the mirror—and let out a yelp. Because whatever this new skin condition was had covered her entire face and neck now—even her scalp, when she moved her hair a bit to check. It wasn’t an ugly green, at least—kind of a light fern-y color—but still, so wrong.

What the fuck was going on?

She felt her face; her skin didn’t have any different texture than it usually had, so maybe the rash idea was out.

Algae in the water, maybe? No; that didn’t do…this, whatever this was.

She’d look perfect if she wanted to audition for Wicked once they got back to New York, but there wasn’t enough concealer in the whole town to cover this up until then.

For a moment, she was envious of the way she looked when she woke up that morning—and, to her horror, watched herself turn a shade of green darker as that jealous feeling overcame her.

Fuck. She hadn’t been wrong—she was literally turning green with envy.

She groaned and hung her head. This. This was why she wanted to go back to New York. Where none of this stupid magical shit happened. At least, she had to assume that was the cause; she’d worry about the ‘how’ later; for now, she just had to not make it worse.

Maybe if she just stayed away from the stuff that seemed to be triggering it, it might reverse itself? With all the other crap going on, she didn’t want to pile this on—but at the same time, she knew trying to go out and about would inevitably draw attention to it, and her mom or someone would want to fix it.

But mainly—how the hell would she explain it to Henry?

So yeah, trying to resolve on her own was the best plan of action.

She called down to Granny to see if she could run up some food; the old wolf was confused by the request but complied, and Emma was careful to make sure she’d gone back downstairs before opening the door to grab the (perfect, beautiful, delicious) plate of grilled cheese and onion rings.

Playing the headache card again bought her another night in the dark with Henry, but she’d have to come up with a valid reason for that tomorrow. (Was it logical to say there was a power surge and the room was out of electricity? Even though there were other empty rooms on the floor? Eh, that was a tomorrow Emma problem.)

Thankfully, he didn’t question it again, and she was able to chalk up the hoodie wrapped tight around her head to the room being drafty.

But the next morning was another story. She woke before he did and tiptoed to the bathroom, but there was no change in her complexion. Damn.

She managed to get back under the covers and wrap them around her head before Henry stirred. Bless her caring boy, he figured she was still asleep and moved quietly around the room as he got ready before gently shaking her “awake”. “Hey Mom, you want to get some breakfast?”

She had to feign sounding ill. “Sorry, kid; I’m not feeling the best,” she said weakly. “Maybe go see if Killian wants to go with you? And ask if you can hang out with him today?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just a stomach bug; I’m feeling a little green around the gills,” she said, then winced at the accuracy. “Give me a day and I should be fine.”

“Are you sure? Want me to get you some ginger ale?”

“Mm, maybe later; I just want to sleep right now.” Thank god her internal lie detector wasn’t hereditary.

“Alright,” he said, though he sounded uncertain. “I’ll check on you later, okay?”

“Okay,” she chuckled. “Have fun.”

She felt him press a kiss to the blanket wrapped around her head, then waited until she heard the door click shut to remove it. Hopefully, she could convince Granny to do delivery again.

Several minutes later, she was still sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling her phone absentmindedly (she’d been about to call Granny when she got distracted by a Facebook notification) when a sudden, insistent knock on the door made her jump and drop the device in her lap.

“Swan? Are you alright, love?”

Dammit. She should have known Hook would want to check up on her after Henry talked to him. Though, based on the way he’d been flirting with every other woman in town the last two days, she was mildly surprised.

“I’m fine,” she called back. “Just a stomach thing; I’ll be good by tomorrow. Can you watch Henry today?”

“Of course, but who’s going to look after you?”

She scoffed. “Me. I can take care of myself.”

“You don’t have to, you know,” he said softly; she almost didn’t hear it through the thin door.

“I’ve made it this far,” she bit back. “I’ll survive another day.”

“Can I bring you anything, then?”

“No!” she yelled, mostly out of panic; knowing him, he wouldn't be satisfied to leave her something without actually seeing her. “I’ll be fine; just—go.”

He sighed, and it wasn’t hard to imagine him hanging his head in frustration. “Can you at least open the door for a moment? Assuage my worries?”

She rolled her eyes. “You have nothing to worry about. Besides, I look super gross.” That part wasn’t entirely a lie, at least.

“I find that very hard to believe.”

“Trust me,” she lamented, looking over her chartreuse hand. “Seriously, just—take Henry fishing or something, or go hang out with Tink; I know you’d be happier hanging out with her.”

“Swan, you do realize that by insisting on my absence, I’m far more likely to want to stay?”

Emma groaned at his persistence and flopped back on the mattress, making her phone clatter to the floor.

“What was that? Hold on; I’m coming in.”

“No!” she shouted again, jumping up and running for the door. Henry hadn’t locked it so Hook had no trouble turning the knob. But she was on her feet immediately, and he’d only opened the door a few inches before she was slamming her whole body against it, forcing it shut.

“Emma, what the bloody hell is going on?”

“Nothing! Can’t I just have a day to myself?”

“If it were that simple, then why feign illness?”

“Well, I thought that meant people would leave me alone, but I guess I was wrong.” Who knew she’d long for the days when she didn’t have people looking out for her—but, more importantly, expecting her to save the day? She held her hand up, and sure enough, it turned another shade of green darker. At least she’d have good camouflage the next time she went into the forest.

“Perhaps it’s because people care about you,” Killian snapped. He may not have said it specifically, but they both knew he was referring to himself. “Have you considered that?”

“Yeah, well, maybe they care too much. The sooner they figure that out, the better.” She was being dramatic, she knew, but until she got over this thing, it’d be better to keep people at arm’s length.

“Swan,” he nearly whined. “You can’t possibly still think so little of yourself. There are so many people here who—”

“Don’t even start,” she cut off. “I’ve heard that hope speech before. But it’s not exactly something you can easily accept when your whole life, you’ve been some orphan freak. No one wants that.”

Well, now it was getting personal, it seemed. Why did he always have that way of cutting to the deep of her issues?

“You are not some ‘orphan freak’, love,” he replied, almost indignantly. “You are a fierce, strong—”

Okay. It was time to shut him up. Without even thinking, she swung the door open and finished his sentence for him. “Green-skinned weirdo?”

It was rare she was able to render him speechless; this situation wasn’t quite the confidence boost it normally would be, though. His jaw hung slack and she could see his eyes roving over what skin he could see (not much outside of her hoodie and sweats).

After an eternal several seconds, he closed his mouth and swallowed. Then, to her surprise, he gave her a smirk. “That’s quite the look, Swan—it rather complements your eyes.”

She rolled her eyes; of course he’d turn this into flirting, so she tried to close the door on him. But he stopped it with his hand. “Hold on, darling—might I come in? I suspect you don’t want to draw any wandering eyes into our forthcoming conversation.”

She hung her head; he was right—they needed to talk, but she didn’t want anyone else to see her. “Where’s Henry?”

“He’s downstairs with Ruby.”

She snorted. “Surprised you’re not there to properly teach him how to flirt.” It slipped out automatically.

“Beg your pardon?” Killian sounded slightly offended.

“You heard me,” she scoffed. “I saw you with her yesterday; I know you can’t resist her charms,” she replied, mimicking his accent (poorly).

His brow furrowed, but not in anything resembling the shame she wanted to see on his face; no, his eyes were wandering over her own face and neck in a way that made her feel exposed. She looked away, down at her feet, but that was when she noticed that the skin of her hand was yet darker. Dammit.

She just sighed and stepped aside, extending an arm to invite him in. He slipped into the room swiftly and quietly with a grace that she was doing her damnedest to not be envious of; surely there was a maximum on this thing? (Plants could only turn so green, right? Maybe this was a…chloroform? No, chlorophyll—thing. She’d never paid much attention in science class.)

She closed the door quickly behind him, and he turned to face her, his jacket swishing distractingly around his legs and making it seem like he was taking up more of the room than he actually did. Or maybe it was just the overall immensity of his presence in the room, or the weight of the tension between them.

“Is it safe to assume that this isn’t a cosmetics choice?” he started, gesturing at her face.

“Obviously,” she confirmed, rolling her eyes. “And last I checked, my foundation hadn’t gotten moldy.” Though she did need some more—she’d just about used hers up with all of this.

“Am I to gather, then, that it’s something a bit more…supernatural in its occurrence?”

“If that’s your fancy way of asking if it’s magic, then yeah; at least—I think so,” she shrugged. “I don’t know how or why it started all of a sudden, but every time I feel jealous, I get a little more…like this. Looking like the freaking Wicked Witch herself.”

“Do you think it was her?”

“I don’t know; maybe,” she huffed, then flopped down on the end of the bed. “I hadn’t exactly gotten that far. It’s not like I’ve really had a chance to think about the things happening to me. It’s as good a guess as any, but it doesn’t solve a damn thing.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he concurred, his voice gentle, and she could almost cry—it was the first time anyone had just simply agreed with her in nearly a week and let her vent. “What started it?”

She recounted as much as she could remember over the last couple of days—the little things, like wanting to sleep in or coveting a sandwich, and the bigger emotions from last night when it came to her parents and Henry. She couldn’t bring herself to mention anything regarding her emotions towards him, though.

He listened, but tilted his head when she was done. “That doesn’t seem like everything, love. I’m no expert on magic, but I know it involves emotion, and you haven’t described anything particularly deep.”

“What, seeing my parents getting ready to have the perfect life with their new baby isn’t a deep enough emotion? Why would they still want me around when they’ll have everything they ever wanted with that one?”

It was a cathartic release of everything she’d been holding in on that subject pretty much ever since they got back to town. Killian said nothing, just stared intently, seemingly inviting her to go on—so she did.

“And Henry—I’m so jealous of the fact that he doesn’t have to deal with all this magical bullshit, but even the fact that he’s missing those memories is magic in itself and…god, I wish I was still there with him. I miss our old life, and I feel like such an awful parent having to lie to him constantly here.

“And you!” she continued, now on a roll. “I’m still mad and a little heartbroken over the Walsh crap—absolutely not in the market for a new guy, at all—but you’re here and being all caring and I think, y’know, maybe? But then I see you flirting with Tink and Ruby and I just remember—why on earth would you want someone with all my baggage?”

She paused to catch her breath. Then, in a small voice, ended with, “And how much of an asshole am I for thinking all of this?”

She wasn’t prepared for whatever judgment was on Hook’s face, so she just fell backwards against the bed and threw her arm over her eyes.

No response came immediately, but then she felt a dip in the mattress near her and the springs squeaked as Hook took a seat a respectable distance away. “A completely normal one,” he finally said. “Perhaps even justified.”

She rolled her eyes, even if they were still hidden under her arm. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not. It’s not uncommon for an older child to feel replaced by a younger one; even if the age gap is a bit more dramatic here, given the course of your life, it’s completely understandable. And it’s even more so that you miss what you and Henry had; even if it started falsely, the last year was real, and special, it sounds like.” There was a bittersweet edge to his voice at that, reminding her that he still hadn’t been fully honest with her regarding his past year. Not important now, though.

“And, love,” he went on. His careful fingers found her wrist and gently pulled her arm away from her face. She was hesitant to meet his gaze, but when she finally did, the condescending look she was expecting wasn’t there—only a small, almost insecure smile and understanding. “I don’t know why you’d think I’d be concerned about the complications of your past, when my own is significantly moreso—a fact of which I know you are aware.”

He had her there; it was no use to try to argue that fact.

“And when it hasn’t stopped me from admiring you thus far,” he added, a bit quickly—like he was blurting out a confession, even though he’d never exactly hid his feelings. She certainly hadn’t forgotten the Echo Cave, or their brief encounter prior to that. The one that meant a lot more than she’d told herself it did.

Although—she’d kind of just admitted as much, hadn’t she? She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks as she blushed (and wondered what color it came up as).

“Yeah, well, I’m sure your daydreams didn’t include some green freak,” she countered, rolling on her side away from him and crossing her arms. Even if she had just accidentally admitted her feelings, that didn’t mean she was ready to pursue them right away. So back behind her walls it was.

“Emma,” he sighed, sounding almost exasperated. Good. He stood and stepped around her, looking down at where she was pouting. “Despite my care for my personal appearance, I’m not actually that shallow. I don’t give a damn what’s on your outside; your spirit and your soul are what’s beautiful to me. And don’t you dare doubt it for a second.”

She swallowed; he sounded genuinely angry, and she could see something resembling hurt within the fire in his gaze. She sat up. “You really mean that?” she asked quietly.

He sat down again next to her. “Bloody hell, love; how else can I convince you?”

Her entire body was suddenly aware of how close his was to her—even more than their moment in the woods the other day. She wasn’t sure if she was feeling heat from the adrenaline of their conversation, or just off of him, or both, but she found herself swaying ever so slightly closer to him, chasing it, until her face was hardly even an inch from his.

He was watching her carefully, his blue eyes taking her in under the studious set of his brow. She held his gaze, but then glanced at his mouth—and that was all it took.

Almost involuntarily, she leaned the rest of the way in and found his lips with hers. He stiffened at first, but only for a fraction of a second before leaning into her, his hand finding its way into her loose hair.

She hadn’t forgotten how skilled he was in this department, but it was a nice refresher; like their first time, she grabbed his jacket to get closer and deepen the kiss. His hand slid down, gripping her waist, and she felt his hook settle on her other hip.

And as they sat there making out, it was like a weight lifted off her—yeah, she was dealing with some pretty heavy feelings, but she didn’t need to feel guilty about it; she just needed to feel them, and then move on. The people that loved her would love her no matter what. She maybe wasn’t ready to admit that was what the situation was with Killian, but he was on her side—and that was enough.

And goddamn, could he kiss.

She couldn't help it—she was craving more and threw her leg over his lap to straddle him. But he wasn’t ready for that and ended up falling back on the mattress, bringing her with him. “Oh, shit—sorry!” she blurted out (while trying to catch her breath).

He just laughed, that deep chuckle that did nothing to tamper her growing arousal. “It’s plenty fine, love,” he wheezed, grinning with his eyes squinted shut.

She at least rolled to the side so she wasn’t crushing him while he tried to catch his breath, and couldn’t help but laugh a bit herself. Finally, he turned his head to her and opened his eyes, a soft expression settling over him. “There you are, Swan,” he said, reaching across and brushing her hair out of her face. “Looking more yourself already.”

Huh? She glanced at her hand where it had settled on his chest, temptingly close to the open vee of his tunic. It was back to its normal (probably too) pale color.

“Though I must admit, the green had been growing on me,” he quipped. She lightly slapped his chest where her hand rested. “You seem to be in better spirits, then,” he observed.

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “Thanks for getting me through that.”

“Anytime, love,” he said softly, and she knew he meant it.

So she kissed him again.

(Several times.) (And maybe a bit more than kiss.)

═══════════════

They did eventually meet back up with Henry, who had been hanging out with Ruby in the meantime. He might have given Emma a knowing smirk she pretended to ignore, but was mostly happy she was feeling better. (And later, when he got his memories back, was far too amused by the fact his mom was dating Captain Hook.)

She might have leaned a little bit harder into her parents’ hugs that week. And might have enjoyed a couple more grilled cheeses.

But the most satisfying moment came during an encounter with Zelena at Granny’s, once they knew she was their enemy. She looked at Emma and sneered. “Why aren’t you green?”

Emma glanced over her shoulder at Killian, who was giving her an encouraging smirk. “Guess I just didn’t let envy get the better of me. Better question is: why aren’t you?”

Zelena screamed in frustration and disappeared in a cloud of green smoke. They hadn’t beat her yet, but with everyone who loved her on her side, they were bound to yet.

Though if she took a few extra kisses from her pirate for moral support…that was her business.

═══════════════

thanks for reading! tagging some peeps: @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @phiralovesloki @thisonesatellite @iverna @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa-default @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke @deckerstarblanche

#cs ff #cs canon divergence #ouat 3b #ouat 3x14 #transformation #ish #my ff

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stahlop · 2 years

Text

All of Me (loves all of you)

Merry Christmas @cosette141! Here is your Christmas gift from your Secret Santa! I had so much fun writing this little fix it, canon divergence piece for you. I know season 4a is one of your favorites and I just happen to be in the middle of reviewing that season, so it worked out perfectly! I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you to @xarandomdreamx for being my beta

And thank you to the Captain Swan Secret Santa for putting this on again!

Rated: T

Ao3 Link

Emma slammed her bug into park and started beating on the steering wheel. The words of the Snow Queen echoed through her mind.

The only way this ends is you embracing who you are.

But Emma had embraced who she was. Wasn’t that why the wand had worked in the past? Wasn’t that why she had wanted to stay in Storybrooke? Because she was embracing who she was? She just needed to get her stupid powers under control, and without Regina’s help she just couldn’t get a grasp on them.

Right now, she just needed a place to hide.

As if her magic understood her need, her hands sparked and her car went back into drive and started driving itself.

“Great,” Emma sighed to herself. “Just like the Ford Anglia in Harry Potter.”

It deposited her in front of Gold’s cabin in the middle of the woods. The last time she’d been here he’d been beating the crap out of Mo French. She hoped it had been cleaned since then.

She slammed the car door as she got out, putting her red leather jacket back on to ward off the chill. She didn’t even bother checking if the door was locked, her magic automatically opening it for her.

“That would’ve been useful when I was younger,” she murmured to herself. The place was spotless. Definitely been cleaned up since the Mo French incident. Emma wondered if Gold even remembered he owned this place. It didn’t look like anyone had used it at all. Everything was in perfect order. No rumpled bed sheets, nothing in the sink, not even any wear on the sofa. However, there did happen to be a thin layer of dust over everything. Emma found a roll of paper towels, tore off a piece, and started dusting the cabin. She was already beginning to feel calmer.

—-----

Henry had never been so thankful that driving in the woods had to be done slowly. After the debacle with his mom, he’d hid while he saw the encounter with the Snow Queen. He hated how the Snow Queen could get under his mom’s skin so easily, especially as he’d seen his mom go up against his mother without any regard for the consequences. What was it that made her think the Snow Queen was worse than the Evil Queen had been?

He watched as the car drove itself through the winding roads and managed to catch a glimpse of it as it stopped in front of a cabin in the woods. He wasn’t sure who it belonged to, but he was sure someone back at the loft would know.

He followed the road back into town and ran to the loft. He could hear his grandparents, Killian, and Elsa arguing from outside the door about continuing to look for Emma some more.

“Perhaps she doesn’t want to be found.” Killian said, quite angrily, though Henry could tell he was also worried. “Since, you know, that’s what she bloody told us!” They may have only started dating, but Henry liked how concerned he was about his mom, and that he wanted to give her the space she’d requested.

“Well,” David began, “the good news is, thanks to the ice wall, Emma can’t leave town.” Henry scoffed. Of course Grandpa was only concerned about whether his mom would leave. Not whether she was okay or what she was feeling.

“The longer she isolates herself, the worse it’ll get. Her magic will just keep spiraling,” Henry heard Elsa say. It almost made him run right back to the woods to try and talk to her again. “When your powers are out of control, everything’s upside down, and you don’t want to be anywhere near the people you care about,” Elsa continued.

“Wonderful,” Killian said with a sarcastic tone Henry knew he used when he was trying to cover up his own feelings. “Well, should we send Sneezy after her, or Happy? Which is the dwarf she despises?” Henry silently chuckled at Killians words, making his head throb and probably bleed more from his most recent encounter with his mom in the woods. But he continued to listen to what was being said.

“I was so scared that I would hurt Anna until I finally realized you can’t run away from the people who love you, because in the end they’re the only ones who can help you.” Elsa finished. His grandparents began arguing again about what was best for Emma, but Henry took Elsa’s words to heart. He needed to send someone who could get through to his mom, who loved his mom, not someone who would just talk at her.

He took a minute to psych himself up before opening the door, just in time to hear David say “then we go out and find our daughter. Okay?”

“You don’t have to look anymore.” The adults all looked shocked to see him come through the door. Which, to be fair, he was supposed to have been sleeping upstairs. He absentmindedly put his hand to his injured head (he silently cursed himself for upsetting his mom enough that she accidentally had a burst of magic and hurt him, something she was trying so hard to not do) and pulled back his hand with spots of blood on it.

“What happened?” David asked concerned.

“Look, I’m sorry I snuck out, but I found her.” All the adults looked at him in awe. He tried not to let it go to his head, knowing he’d found her when the rest of his family couldn’t. His grandparents began talking over each other to find out how she was, but all Henry was concerned about was Killian’s reaction. He looked…relieved, yet he still didn’t ask any questions. He knew Henry would answer them in his own time. He was exactly who Henry needed to send after his mom. He’d be the only one who could get through to her.

“I’d really like someone to look at this head injury I’ve managed to get,” Henry said, focusing his attention on Killian as he said it. Killian looked at Henry, his eyebrows raised in question, which he then quickly schooled and nodded in agreement. Luckily, his mom wasn’t the only person Killian could read like a book.

“I’ll take the lad and get him cleaned up.” Killian said before anyone else could volunteer. Henry quickly steered him to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

“You have to go to my mom!” Henry said, turning to face Killian. He expected to see relief on his face, but instead he saw something more conflicted.

“I don’t think your mother wants to see me, lad,” his face dropped, looking hopeless. He gestured to the cabinet; Henry quickly took out the medical supplies to keep up the pretext. Killian wet a small hand towel and motioned for Henry to turn so he could get a better look at the wound.

“You’re wrong!” Henry said adamantly, then winced as Killian wiped away the blood with the towel. “You heard what Elsa said, isolating herself will only make it worse. She’s at Gold’s cabin in the woods.” He tried to turn toward Killian but he kept him facing away from him. “Do you know where that is?”

“Aye, lad, I do.” Killian sounded almost resigned, like he still wasn’t sure if he should go. Henry finally wrenched from his grip and turned around.

“She’s scared and she’s afraid she’ll hurt someone. She just needs someone to reassure her that her magic isn’t bad. That it’s part of her. It’s like Elsa said, she needs someone who loves her..”

Killian looked shocked. Henry wondered if he’d overstepped. Despite the fact that Killian had been trying to court his mom for a few months now, they’d only started dating. Killian tilted his head down, not looking at Henry’s eyes.

“It’s that obvious, is it?” He let out a shaky breath. Henry didn’t think he’d ever seen him so vulnerable. The great Captain Hook worried that Henry knew he loved his mom.

“Well, mom’s oblivious, as usual. Or maybe she’s just using her magic as an excuse. You know how skittish she gets.” Killian gave a wry chuckle. “But you need to go. I think you’re the only one who’ll be able to get through to her. You actually listen to her. My grandparents are great, but they’re scared of her, whether they want to admit it or not.” Killian nodded in agreement. He fished out some gauze from the medical supplies Henry had brought out with a small piece of medical tape and affixed it onto Henry’s wound.

“Tis merely a scratch,” Killian gave Henry a small smile and stroked his hair. Henry understood the significance of this gesture - it was fatherly in nature. Another reason Henry knew he could trust him.

“Are you sure you know where Gold’s cabin is?” Henry wasn’t sure he’d be able to find it again.

Killian nodded. “Aye, lad. I’ve traipsed through these woods enough, I’ve got a good lay of the land. I didn’t realize the cabin belonged to the Crocodile.” He made to leave the bathroom, but turned back toward Henry. “Are you sure she’ll be alright with me going to her? I’m trying hard to respect her boundaries.” His face dropped in concern. Never did Henry think he’d feel sorry for Captain Hook.

“I think you’re the only one she will see. Though knowing mom, she’ll fight you at first. Killian smiled.

“Well, it wouldn’t be me and your mum if we weren’t fighting, would it?” A grin spread over Killian’s face and Henry thought maybe everything would be alright.

“I’ll distract the rest of them for as long as I can.” Henry said, returning the medical supplies to the cabinet he’d got them from. “You sneak out and get to mom.” Killian nodded his head in agreement.

Henry slipped back to the rest of the group. Mary Margaret started fussing over his head while David gave him a light reprimand for leaving the loft when they told him not to. Mary Margaret insisted on making something to eat since they’d all be out all night. They could use some rest before Henry told them where Emma was. As David had pointed out earlier, it’s not like she could leave town with the ice wall around it.

Henry could see Killian patting down his jacket and pants pockets. “Bloody Hell! I’ve left my talking phone in the back of your truck.” He announced though no one seemed to be paying attention. Mary Margaret was showing Elsa how the stove worked as she also gathered ingredients for pancakes. David was pacing around, most likely trying to decide what they should do after they’d refueled and recharged.

“It’s just called a phone.” David responded mechanically, watching as Killian headed for the door to retrieve it.

“What an impractical name. I’ll be back in two shakes.” Henry observed Killian go out the door, everyone else still too absorbed in what they were doing. Killian gave a quick, awkward wink to Henry - he knew Killian would not be back in two shakes.

—---

The calm Emma had been feeling immediately dissipated once she finished dusting. With nothing left to do with her hands, the sparking had started up once again. She sat on the edge of the couch staring at her hands, willing them to go back to normal. But the doubt rapidly crept in.

She’d hurt Henry.

She’d hurt her father and almost hurt Killian.

The look on her mother’s face.

How could they want to be around her after that?

How could she act like everything was normal after that?

Maybe Ingrid was right and she was a monster.

“You are nothing of the sort, love.” Emma looked up to see Killian leaning on the open door frame, his signature smirk overtaking his face. She wasn’t sure if she was glad or scared to see him.

“Did I say that out loud?” Killian nodded in the affirmative. Emma could tell he was being cautious. Usually he would say ‘aye’ and it would sound incredibly sexy. But she could see his casual smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and their usual blue was closer to a stormy gray. It would be upsetting if it wasn’t….sweet.

“How’d you find me?’ Emma asked warily. She could already feel the sparks in her fingertips coming to life as if a lightning storm was on its way.

“Henry.”

Emma’s hands went to hips. “I drove here!” She said incredulously. Killian just shrugged. She didn’t really know what to do with that. She loved Henry and she’d hurt him. She couldn’t risk hurting Killian too. It still amazed her that calling him Killian came as easily as drinking water after calling him Hook for so long. She’d known, logically, that his name wasn’t Hook. She’d called him Killian when he took care of Henry, before his memory had come back, but that had almost been like a role he was playing. The part of Captain Hook will be played by Killian Jones. And she’d called him Killian when Gold and Zelena had almost killed him and she’d lost her magic. Even after he got his hook back, he was now just Killian. But this person in front of her, the one trying so hard to give a casual indifference, she wasn’t sure who this was. He didn’t have the flirtiness of Hook or the undying devotion of Killian.

“Your family is worried about you, love. At least give them a call and let them know you’re alright.” Emma sighed. “Henry’s fine, by the way. Just a scratch.” He added. Emma pinched her face, already having forgotten about her altercation with Henry in the woods. The Snow Queen had come after that and then everything had been a blur.

“God, I’m the worst mother in the world.” She cried, sitting herself back on the couch, her head in her hands.

“No, love. You just have a great deal many distractions going on.” He took a small step inside the cabin. “Have you eaten?” Emma turned to see he held a bag from Granny’s. “Bear claws and a hot chocolate, just the way you like it.” He smiled, a real smile this time. One that actually made his eyes crinkle in that way that Emma knew he’d seen a lot in his lifetime, but also made him look sexy. As if on cue, her stomach growled. Killian took that as a sign that he could come inside and sit next to her on the couch. He passed her the bag and she took it gingerly, still afraid of what her magic might do, but it seemed to have calmed down with the prospect of food.

Silence permeated the room as she ate. The only sound they could hear was the wind whistling through the trees outside. How had they gone from dates and kisses and letting him in about her past, to this uncomfortable silence? This was not who they were. They were all flirtations, and banter, and heated glares. Emma didn’t like it at all.

She was about to say something, anything, when the door slammed shut. They both turned to look and then saw heavy snow falling outside the windows.

“Crap!” She ran over to the slammed door and pulled it open. Within the few minutes it had taken to eat, there was already nearly an inch of snow on the ground, and it didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon. Big, fat, fluffy flakes were falling at an alarming rate. “Crap!” She yelled again. “Killian, we’ve got to get back to town!” Killian shook his head.

“We can’t drive in this, Emma!” The wind had picked up and was now howling around them, her hair whipping around her face. “Get back in the cabin.” Emma wanted to scream at him that they needed to leave, but at the pace the snow was coming down, she knew he was right. They’d be trapped and at the mercy of the elements. She nodded and ran back inside with Killian following close behind.

“Think you can light a fire for us?” He asked, nodding to the pile of wood near the fireplace. Emma looked at her hands, fearful for a moment that she might put a hole in the cabin like she did the sheriff station (she really hoped Regina could magic that back together ASAP), instead, she concentrated on the wood Killian was placing in the fire. She closed her eyes, and then hoped for the best.

“Good job, Swan! I knew you could do it!” Emma opened her eyes to see the fire spark to life and Killian grinning like a fool. The expression on his face was so infectious, she felt a grin spread across her face too. Killian was looking at her in awe. “Come here, Swan.” he beckoned her to him with a gesture of his hand. Emma took it and suddenly he was kissing her.

As someone who had initiated most of their kisses, Emma felt slightly out of control when Killian would kiss her first. She’d only been in one relationship where the other person kissed her first and it made her feel wild and out of control. She hated feeling like that now. But the more Killian kissed her, his lips caressing hers gently, the more safe she felt. The more she felt seen. The more she felt treasured (and that was saying a lot considering he was a pirate). She pulled away at that revelation. Killian’s eyes were still closed and instead of opening them to look at her, he leaned his head forward so that his forehead touched hers. It felt more intimate than the kiss they had shared, and it made Emma extremely uncomfortable, even though she didn’t want to feel that way.

“Emma…” Killian’s voice almost sounded broken, like he was afraid she would tell him it was a one time thing again, which was ridiculous since they were….dating. But at the same time, Emma could see why he might think that. Or maybe she was overthinking things. Looking for an excuse so that she wouldn’t be too hurt when he decided to end things. Except…she didn’t think Killian would ever want to end things. And she wasn’t sure which scared her more, him wanting to leave her or him never wanting to leave her, so she decided to deflect instead.

She took a step back from him. “This isn’t a regular snowstorm. I think this is the Snow Queen.” Emma said as she headed toward the window. In the short time that she and Killian had been together, there seemed to already be a foot or two of snow on the ground.

“I gathered that, love, seeing as it’s too early for snow storms of this caliber, even being this far north.” She arched an eyebrow at him regarding his knowledge about Maine’s seasons, and he gave her a smile back. Maybe her fears were just that - fears. Why else would he change his entire wardrobe, hang out with her family, and learn about Storybrooke if he wasn’t planning on sticking around?

“She wasn’t happy about me not wanting to be her sister. She keeps trying to convince me that no one can love me with my magic. From what Elsa told me, magic isn’t abundant in Arendelle. People are afraid of it there, so I’m guessing the Snow Queen has some traumatic backstory that makes her think she knows everything there is to know about how people feel about magic.” Killian nodded, waiting for her to continue. That was something she’d never had, someone who actually listened to her. When she was younger she’d just been some dumb kid. And now her parents were too busy with their own traumas and trying to finally raise a child from birth. Well, Emma really couldn’t blame them for wanting that. That feeling of finding out she hadn’t raised Henry when she got her memories back was devastating. The fact that Regina basically gave her a do over, well, at least she still had those false memories to hold onto. Emma realized she’d gone off on a tangent in her head. Killian was still expectantly waiting for her to go on.

“She keeps calling me a monster, which I’m not. I have saved people with my magic.” She was angry now, which did nothing to keep the sparks at bay.

“I can attest to that, Swan. Without your magic, I’d be without my shadow, dead on Neverland. Or killed by a giant icicle that the Snow Queen conjured up.” Killian walked over to her because she’d apparently been pacing in front of the window as more and more flakes floated to the ground. It would have been beautiful if it wasn’t a threat from the Snow Queen. He took her hands in his and Emma was afraid that her magic would hurt him like it did Henry, but he didn’t even seem to notice it. “I’m a fan of every part of you. That includes your magic. You wouldn’t be the woman I’ve been chasing after without it.” He kissed the knuckles on both hands, which in the past would have made her squirm (in a good and bad way), but in this instance, it only reassured her. And because Emma couldn’t think of anything as poetic to say in return, she pulled him close and kissed him.

Their bodies melded into one as they walked over toward the small bed set up in the corner of the cabin. Emma certainly hadn’t expected this turn of events to happen tonight, but she couldn’t say she was sorry about it. Except when her knees hit the frame and she sat down, Killian did not follow her down, her lips chasing his as he backed away. He stayed standing and looked at her with something akin to fear behind his eyes.

“Before this goes any further, Emma, I have something to confess.”

—---

Killian hadn’t expected the day to take this turn. He’d come here to talk to Emma, to convince her to come back to the loft, and maybe convince her that everything the Snow Queen was saying to her was a load of rubbish. He hadn’t thought that things would lead to a bed. And despite having been a pirate for hundreds of years and having many a man’s wife, he didn’t want to do this with Emma with this secret hanging over his head.

Emma was staring at him, her face still flushed from their heated kiss. He was nervous, a feeling he hadn’t had since he became a pirate and raided his first ship. He was positive this was even more nerve wracking than that, because revealing his deal with Gold and what he’d been compelled to do might make Emma hate him. And while he could deal with any assortment of emotions from Emma, hate was the one that would undo him.

“I’m afraid I’ve been lying to you,” he began. Killian could see Emma’s face immediately fall, but he knew he had to get this out if he wanted any type of future with her. “Gold has been lying to Belle about the dagger. He gave her a fake, and I knew, so I blackmailed him. It’s how Elsa and I found the Snow Queen in the forest, and then how I got my hand returned to me for our date.” He was staring at the floorboards of the cabin as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. He couldn’t bear to see the disappointed look on Emma’s face, so he soldiered on and continued his tale. “Gold blackmailed me into helping him. He has a hat that collects magic powers. He forced me to collect a magical old man that he had some vendetta against. He knew I’d do whatever it takes to be with you, and he used it against me.” Tears stung his eyes as he spit the words out as fast as he could so he could get everything out. “I just wanted to be a better man for you, Swan.” He dared to peek up at her at this point. Her expression was one he’d never seen before and that made his heart drop into his stomach. “But I failed. And now because of it, I might lose you. I’m sorry.” He knew his apology was probably worthless, but he also knew it had to be said. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, head still tilted toward the floor. It felt like hours though he knew it was most likely only seconds. He hadn’t realized his hand was clenched until he felt a warmth radiating around it. He looked to see Emma holding his hand in hers. She didn’t look afraid, or upset, or filled with hatred, she looked concerned.

“Killian,” she breathed out a sigh. “You never have to be anyone but who you already are. I fell in love with Captain Hook, the pirate. You know I wanted you at the beanstalk and that’s why I left you up there. It wasn’t you I didn’t trust, it was myself. I…I’m not good with words like you are, but Killian Jones,” she moved directly into his line of sight so they could see eye to eye, “I love you.”

The world seemed to have gone silent after her declaration. Never in a million years would Killian have thought Emma would be the one to say ‘I love you’ first. He’d known from the first moment he’d met her that he could possibly fall for her, but his need to get revenge for Milah had still been too strong. It wasn’t until he saw how desperate she was to find her son and had offered his services in Neverland that he realized just how much he’d already fallen. And then, of course, after their first kiss and subsequent admission in the Echo Caves, he knew she was the one he would give up his revenge for.

Emma’s eyes had a watery sheen to them and Killian realized he’d probably been in shock far longer than he intended to. He could feel the sparks emanating from her hands that were still holding his, though slightly looser. He wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t said anything back or due to her unpredictable magic.

“Emma Swan,” he said, grabbing her small hand in his larger one. “Make no mistake. I love you too. I just never thought you’d admit it first.” Killian chuckled and saw Emma’s shoulders relax at his admission. She melted into his chest and he brought his arms around her in an embrace. He was sure Emma could feel his heart racing and he couldn’t help but smile at that. They stayed that way for a few minutes, just feeling the warmth from each other, listening to the crackling of the fire and the wind from the snowstorm outside.

“I think you help my magic.” Emma said so quietly that Killian almost thought he imagined she had spoken. She pulled away slowly, putting her hands up so they could both see that the sparks had disappeared. “Elsa told me her sister’s love helped her control magic, and I’ve noticed that when I’m around you I can control it better. Usually. Yesterday notwithstanding.” Killian nodded in understanding. Just like her powers to detect when someone is lying, all her powers seemed to go awry when she was overly stressed. Killian kissed the top of her head in reassurance.

“Emma, you love me. I never thought I’d find that again. I’m honored that our love helps you.” Emma smiled at his words before leading him back to the couch where they sat huddled together. Emma practiced her magic by floating logs onto the fire. She laughed as she did it with ease.

After a few moments of contemplative reflection (and stolen kisses) in front of the fire, Emma finally addressed what Killian had confessed earlier. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you blackmailed Gold and then he blackmailed you right back.” Killian froze, but Emma snuggled in closer to him. “We can discuss it later. Right now, I just want to act like a normal couple sitting in front of a fire on a snowy day without thinking about Snow Queens and Dark Ones and magic fairytale nonsense.” Killian kissed her temple, smiling against her hair. Emma grabbed his hand and hook and brought it to her lap as she rested her head against his shoulder.

The Snow Queen may have tried to convince his Swan that her magic made her a monster, but to Killian, her magic made her the most amazing woman he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing. He could only hope that whatever the Snow Queen threw at them next, that Emma used her love to defeat her. Killian vowed that he would stand by her no matter what because he knew Emma was his happy ending, the one, as a former villain, he never dared to hope he could ever have.

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx @qualitycoffeethings @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake @klynn-stormz @tiganasummertree @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @deckerstarblanche @onceratheart18 @the-darkdragonfly @wefoundloveunderthelight @earanemith

#csss2022 #csss22 #captain swan secret santa #cs canon divergence #cs s4 fix it #cs fanfic #cosette141

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jrob64 · 2 years

Text

Her Heart’s Home - Part II of Where Her Heart Belongs (Killian’s POV)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @kmomof4!!!!

I’m a day early, but since the story is finished & I won’t have time to post it tomorrow, you get an early present! As requested, here is a second part to Where Her Heart Belongs from Killian’s point of view. I hope it’s everything you wanted!

Extra special thanks to @winterbythesea for allowing me to use the beautiful artwork she created for WHHB to make the banner. Thanks also to @hookedmom for being the best beta once again.

**I’ve taken the liberty of using two of the most iconic CS scenes in a different way for this story. I hope no one minds.

Rating: M (because Mary insisted Krystal would want it that way!)

Words: 6262

Find Where Her Heart Belongs on Tumblr, Ao3 or ffn

Find Her Heart’s Home on Ao3 or ffn

*********

“I’d say you’ve got your magic back,” Killian said, seeing the wand Emma was holding start to glow. “Now, shall we go?”

She closed her eyes and concentrated and he turned to see a portal beginning to open in the wall of the Dark One’s vault, then gestured for her to go through it ahead of him. When she didn’t do as he indicated, he turned back to face her again, but she wasn’t there. Glancing around the space with an increasing sense of panic, he didn’t see any sign of her.

The only thing he could figure was that she somehow slipped through the portal without him noticing, even though he didn’t know how that could have been possible. Realizing his only chance of escaping the vault was going to close soon, he jumped through it.

When he landed on the floor of the barn, he looked around, hoping to see a flash of blonde hair. His heart sank at the sight of the empty building. He quickly got to his feet and rushed out the door. Just beyond it, he heard a buzzing sound and spotted Emma’s talking phone laying on the ground. He tried to push aside the thought that she probably would have picked it up if she had come through here.

Stuffing it into his pocket, he continued to Granny’s, bursting through the door, breathing hard and scanning the diner for Emma.

“Hook, did you find her?” David asked, rising from the booth where he was seated with Mary Margaret and the infant prince.

“No, I…didn’t she come back here?” Killian asked. “I thought perhaps she made it through the portal and…”

“Portal?” Mary Margaret interjected with alarm. “What are you talking about?”

Killian took another quick look around and realized nothing had changed since he left to pursue Emma. Sighing heavily, he began relating the story of being sucked into Zelena’s portal and their adventure in the Enchanted Forest.

*********

Emma didn’t return that night or the next, or the one after that. For four days, Killian, her family and friends searched everywhere for her, but she seemed to have vanished.

As they sat strategizing in the loft the evening of the fourth day, Regina rose from her seat abruptly and went to stand in front of the mirror where they had witnessed the reunion of Ariel and Eric.

“What is it, Regina?” Mary Margaret questioned, crossing the room to stand beside her.

Regina continued to study the mirror. “I thought I saw…yes! There it is again! Do you see it?”

Henry knocked his chair over in his rush to join his mother, with Killian and David right behind him. “What, Mom? What do you see?”

“It…it’s Emma!” Killian shouted, seeing a blurry image on the surface of the mirror.

The room filled with noise as each of them began to see the same thing as Regina and Killian.

“Regina, can you do anything to let us see her more clearly?” David asked.” Maybe we would be able to identify where she is.”

“You know I can’t perform mirror magic,” Regina snapped. “Obviously, there’s some residual magic left in it from Emma and that’s why we can see her.”

“Can you please try, Mom?” begged Henry. “Please?”

Regina’s eyes softened as she looked at her distraught son. Turning her attention back to the mirror, she held both hands out in front of her, closed her eyes, and concentrated.

“It’s working!” Mary Margaret cried. “Regina, you did it!”

Killian stepped closer, trying to determine Emma’s location. “Do any of you recognize that place?” he asked.

All of them stared at the image, shaking their heads one-by-one, before Henry suddenly shouted, “She’s going into what looks like a library! What does the sign say over the door?”

David squinted. “Columbus Public Library,” he read slowly. “Columbus? Where is that?”

“There are lots of different Columbuses in the country,” Henry informed him, running to get his phone. He Googled ‘Columbus’ and read, “There are twenty-three states with a city of Columbus in them.” His shoulders sagged and he looked up sadly. “How are we supposed to figure out which one it is?”

“Are you saying she’s in the land without magic, Lad?” Killian questioned.

“Yeah. She must be somewhere in the United States, we just don’t know where.”

“Well, we can narrow it down somehow, right?” Mary Margaret asked hopefully. “It looks like it’s pretty chilly there, so we can rule out warmer states.”

After Henry pulled up a map on his computer, he and Mary Margaret began checking off states like Texas and New Mexico. Meanwhile, the other three continued to examine the mirror for any more clues to Emma’s location.

The sick feeling in Killian’s stomach gnawed at him as he watched her browsing books in the library. Clearly, her memory had been wiped since she seemed to feel at home in the location and didn’t appear to be attempting to find her way back to them. To him.

“Henry, come here!” David suddenly shouted, noticing something on the wall behind the circulation desk.

The boy quickly did as told, casting his eyes on the spot where his grandfather was pointing. “What are you…oh! That’s a state flag! I think there’s only one that’s shaped like a pennant!”

Rushing back to his computer, his fingers flew over the keys as he typed in another search. “It’s Ohio!” he shouted. “Columbus, Ohio! That’s where she is!”

“How far away is it?” Killian asked. “Can we make it there tonight?”

“We’re not going there,” Regina said decisively.

“What the bloody hell do you mean?” Killian growled. “We have to go get her!”

“Look,” she said, turning haughty eyes on him, “you said you were in the Dark One’s vault right before Emma disappeared. That means he’s probably the one who sent her to that place and obviously wiped her memories. If we go swooping in there to rescue her, she’s not going to know who we are and we’ll never convince her to come back with us. We’re going to have to find another way.”

“And just how do you propose we do that?” Killian spat, stepping closer until he was toe-to-toe with the queen.

“I’m not sure, yet,” she countered, not backing down. “I’m going to have to think about it.”

“Well, think fast, because Emma has already been gone too long!” he stated venomously. “Unless you have another reason for not wanting to bring her back. Maybe you like being with Henry alone. Maybe you like not having Emma around!”

“Enough!” Mary Margaret interjected, cutting off Regina’s retort. “It’s getting late. Let’s all get some sleep so we are refreshed and can try to come up with a solution tomorrow. At least we know where Emma is and have a pretty good idea of what happened to her.”

“Belle might be able to help,” Henry suggested hopefully. “We can ask her in the morning.”

“Aye, and perhaps she can get the bloody crocodile to admit what he did and make him undo it,” Killian snarled.

Regina and Henry said their goodbyes, but Killian was loath to leave the mirror as long as Emma’s image was visible. Stepping in front of it, he was frustrated to see it was blurry once again.

Mary Margaret looked at his forlorn expression and handed the baby to David. “Could you please change his diaper and get him into his sleeper? I’ll be in to feed him in a few minutes.”

David put the fussing infant up against his shoulder, glanced over at Killian, then gave Mary Margaret a nod and went into their bedroom.

“Hook?” Mary Margaret said softly, placing her hand on his forearm. “I know you’re worried about her, but there’s nothing more we can do tonight. Go to your ship, get some sleep, and we’ll get a fresh start in the morning.”

He swallowed hard, then turned sad eyes toward her. “I no longer have my ship.”

Mary Margaret’s brows raised in surprise. “What do you mean? Where is it?”

He studied his boots for several moments, before finally speaking in a low, tortured voice. “I…I had to find Emma and I needed a magic bean, so I…made a deal with Blackbeard.”

“You traded your ship for a bean so you could bring Emma back?” she asked incredulously.

“Aye,” he said simply, his eyes still fixed on the floor.

She stood stock still, digesting the shocking information, finally shaking herself out of her reverie to say, “Stay here. I…I’ll be right back.”

He was still standing in the same spot when she returned. “Here are some pajamas,” she said, holding them out when he turned to face her. “You can stay up in Emma’s room tonight.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Pardon me?”

“Killian,” she began, and at the sound of his given name, his eyes grew even larger. “You sacrificed something very important to you to bring our daughter back to us. The least we can do is provide you a place to sleep.”

His lips turned up with a hint of a smile. “Thank you, Milady.”

“Please call me Mary Margaret or Snow,” she said warmly. “Now get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a very important day and we all need to be well rested…or as well rested as one can be with a newborn in the house. Goodnight, Killian.”

“Goodnight, Mary Margaret.”

After she left the room, he squinted into the mirror one more time, sighing when he was unable to distinguish Emma’s form within the cloudy surface.

He trudged up the stairs and changed into the pajamas, then settled into Emma’s narrow bed, finally relaxing as he was surrounded by her scent. “Tomorrow, Love,” he murmured. “We’ll bring you home tomorrow.” Yawning widely, he turned his face into her pillow and fell asleep.

*********

Unfortunately, nothing they tried brought Emma home the next day. Belle agreed to help and suggested a way to try to jog Emma’s memories. Aided by a spell Regina discovered, they were able to send the storybook through the mirror to Emma. Once she found it, they were relieved to see that her image in the mirror was clear as long as she was looking at the book.

They also realized that people could be transported through the mirror and several were eager to help, each one hoping they would be the one to trigger the return of her memories. But when Killian attempted to pass through, he was met with a solid, impenetrable wall. He was horrified and furious, sure Rumplestiltskin was the person responsible for blocking him, but Gold claimed to have no memory of doing it.

“Bloody crocodile,” he ground out through gritted teeth, addressing Mary Margaret, David and Belle. “She would recognize me from the illustration in the book if I could just get through to her.”

Belle promised she would try to persuade Gold to remove the magical block, if he had indeed put one on. In the meantime, Killian had to watch one person after another interacting with Emma through the mirror, despairing that he was unable to be one of them.

They saw Emma beginning to put the pieces together little by little, but had no idea how long it would take for her to figure out who she was and where she belonged. As the days passed and everyone returned to their routines, Killian remained, watching her every move.

When the figures in the picture began to dance around the page, he was sure it was her magic causing it, even though she was in the land without magic.

Her parents, Henry, Regina and Belle were with him when Emma wore the red ball gown and pushed her fingers through the page. Killian swiped at them, attempting to make contact, but she pulled them back before he could. When he heard her murmur, “So close, Killian Jones. Someday I’ll make it to you,” his heart shattered.

The group decided to send Ashley and Marco through with the necessary things to complete Emma’s look, everyone hoping it would be enough to help refresh her memory. If not, they knew they had one last chance - sending Killian to her, provided Belle could get Gold to remove the block.

Killian took up his familiar position in front of the mirror, staring into the blank surface as he wondered if Ashley doing her hair and Marco giving her the jeweled headband would do the trick. Suddenly, her image materialized before him, looking exactly like she did in the illustration. His breath caught as she created ripples with her fingers, then he heard her whispered plea - “Please let me get through to you, Killian Jones.” A halo of white light appeared as her hand came through the mirror. Thinking quickly, he pushed his hook toward her searching fingers. As soon as she grasped it firmly, he pulled with all his might.

He caught her in his arms, the relief flooding through him like a tidal wave. “Swan. At last!” he exhaled.

Emma drew back to look at him for several seconds. Just as he was beginning to fear that her memories hadn’t returned, she tugged him to her, fusing her lips to his. His concern dissipated and then he was returning the kiss. She rarely let her walls down enough to give him any indication of her feelings for him, but in that moment, he was almost certain he could feel the love he was pouring into the kiss being reciprocated.

He spent the next several minutes after the kiss ended holding her and answering her questions about what happened. When she started to ask him why he hadn’t come to her like all the others, he could read the trepidation in her eyes and hurried to assure her how much he wanted to, but was blocked.

His heart swelled when she thanked him for never giving up on her, and felt like it was going to burst when she explained that she was talking about all of the times he encouraged her and stayed by her side. She noticed.

Then she told him she and her heart were back with him where they belonged, and he swore he had never felt happier in his entire life.

Far too soon, her family and numerous townspeople came rushing in the door, alerted to Emma’s return by the energy her magic sent through Storybrooke. Wearily, he sat down and watched the happy reunion, suddenly feeling the physical and mental exhaustion fully setting in.

When he glanced up and saw her send him a smile, his weariness lifted long enough to return it. He expected everyone to stay for a while, so he decided it would probably be best to head to Granny’s inn. He stayed there his first three nights back from their adventure in the Enchanted Forest, until Mary Margaret extended the invitation for him to stay with them.

He rose from the bar stool and made his way across the loft, speaking briefly to Belle and Henry before stopping in front of the door. Looking over his shoulder for one more glimpse of Emma, he noticed her giving a hug to August and thanking him for alerting her to the presence of the storybook in the library.

Quietly slipping out the door, he pulled it shut behind him, then started down the stairs. Two steps from the bottom, Emma’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Killian, where are you going?”

The thrill of hearing his name roll off her tongue zipped through him before he turned to face her. “I thought I would give you time with your family and friends,” he explained.

“And you don’t think that includes you?”

He gave her a tired smile. “I’m happy to know that it does, Love. I just…I was going to get some sleep.”

“So you’re going to the Jolly Roger?”

Dropping his head, he scratched behind his ear. “Actually, I, um, I’m staying at Granny’s,” he admitted.

“Instead of your ship? Why?”

His ears reddened. “It…it’s a bit of a long story, Swan.”

“Well, hang around and once everyone leaves, you can tell me.”

Killian glanced toward the outside doors, then back up to Emma at the top of the stairs. He wasn’t keen to tell her the tale, but he couldn’t deny his Swan anything. “As you wish,” he responded, before climbing up the stairs to join her.

*********

Granny sent food over for the group, who lingered until early evening. When everyone said their goodbyes and left, Henry giving Emma a long hug before leaving with Regina, David cleaned up the kitchen while Mary Margaret got the baby ready for bed. Emma pulled Killian down on the couch with her and intertwined their fingers. They sat quietly for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, simply happy to be together again.

“Mom told me you slept in front of the mirror nearly every night since I was sent away,” Emma finally said, speaking quietly as she stroked her thumb over his rings. “That couldn’t have been comfortable.”

“Your mother provided some bedding and pillows for me. I’ve slept in far worse places.”

“You could have slept in my bed, you know.”

He chuckled lightly. “I did, the first night, but once we were able to see you whenever you opened the book, I didn’t want to take the chance of missing you.”

“You can sleep in there tonight, if you want,” she whispered.

“In your bed?” he asked. Seeing her nod, he hurried to add, “No, Swan. I’ll not make you sleep somewhere…”

“I meant with me,” she interrupted, her eyes not meeting his.

His grip on her hand tightened. “I’m not sure your parents…”

“I’m an adult. I don’t need permission from my parents to have a man in my bed.”

“Even if that man is a pirate?”

She twisted around and placed her fingers under his chin to turn his face toward her. “Being a pirate doesn’t define you, Killian. You’re so much more than that.”

His left eyebrow quirked up. “You truly believe that?”

Placing both hands on either side of his face, she looked into his eyes intently for several seconds before answering with certainty, “All the help you gave us to rescue Henry from Neverland, then finding us in New York and bringing us back, not to mention everything you did to protect and help me after we fell through Zelena’s portal - that’s more than enough proof that you’re an honorable man.”

Killian wondered if she had any idea just how much those words meant to him. He opened his mouth to respond, but found he couldn’t get words past the lump in his throat. He settled for giving her a lopsided smile as his face turned a deep shade of red.

“So, yeah,” she said, “I want you to stay with me tonight, if that’s alright with you.”

He gave a slight nod, and she rewarded him with a smile, then stood and pulled him up beside her. Keeping her fingers threaded through his, she walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Dad,” she greeted.

David was just finishing up the dishes. He pulled the plug to let the water out of the sink, dried his hands, then turned and leaned against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. “Hi, Sweetheart,” he smiled. Shifting his gaze toward Killian, he said, “I guess you won’t need to sleep on the floor in front of the mirror tonight, huh Hook?”

“He’s going to sleep in my bed with me,” Emma said without hesitation.

Her father’s brows shot up and his mouth dropped open, then he cleared his throat. Killian prepared to defend himself, but the next words out of David’s mouth took him by surprise. “You…uh, you’ll need to borrow a pair of my pajamas again, I’m assuming?”

Killian blinked rapidly, trying to register the prince’s question. “Aye, if you don’t mind,” he finally responded.

David’s eyes darted between the two of them, taking in their linked hands, before sighing and leaving the kitchen.

“See? Nothing to worry about,” Emma said, but despite her confident words, Killian was sure he could hear relief in her voice.

Mary Margaret returned with David, going directly to her daughter and giving her a hug. “David tells me you’re heading off to bed.” When Emma affirmed it, her mother added, “The past couple of weeks have been very tiring for everyone. Sleep well, Sweetheart. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

Killian could see the tears shining in Mary Margaret’s eyes when Emma pulled away to go give her father a hug. He was sure the tears were in response to Emma easily calling her ‘Mom’, after struggling with it for so long. It seemed her time with her parents back in the Enchanted Forest had something to do with that.

David handed Killian the pajamas, then took his turn hugging his daughter, fixing the other man with an intimidating look after releasing her. Killian didn’t drop his eyes, meeting the prince’s gaze unwaveringly. After several moments, David finally gave him a nod, bade them both goodnight, and followed Mary Margaret into their bedroom.

Emma led Killian upstairs, each taking their turn to change into sleepwear. When he entered her bedroom, she was sitting on her bed waiting for him. “I didn’t know which side you wanted,” she explained.

He subconsciously ran his hand over his hook as he answered, “The left side would be fine, if you don’t mind.”

After pulling the covers back, she slid under them and scooted over, turning on her side to look at him. He unclicked his hook, removed it and laid it on the table beside her bed, then slowly pushed his sleeve up and unbuckled his brace. His hand wrapped around the leather covering his wrist, but he hesitated, looking up at her.

Locking eyes with him, Emma reassured him, “It’s alright, Killian. You don’t have to take it off if you’re not comfortable, but I promise you it’s not going to bother me.”

He paused another few seconds, before firmly grasping the brace and pulling it off, placing it beside his hook. Her eyes never left his as he did, not even glancing at his scarred wrist, despite having never seen it before.

Giving her a small smile, he laid down on the narrow bed, positioning himself so he was face to face with her. “I don’t think I ever want to take my eyes off of you again,” he said, bringing his hand up to rub his thumb along her jaw.

“I would despair if you did,” she smirked.

He grinned, recognizing his own words from their first meeting in the Enchanted Forest. “May I ask you something, Love?”

“Sure, but then I want you to tell me what happened to your ship.”

“If you insist,” he conceded.

“What did you want to ask me?”

“Were you happy in that Columbus place?”

She lifted her left shoulder in a shrug. “I guess, but I was all alone…again. I always had this feeling something was…off. Missing. Things just didn’t feel quite right, you know? And then when I found Henry’s book in the library, it was…” she paused, obviously trying to put her feelings into words. “It was like I had…hope. The stories felt like old friends, even though I’d never read them before; at least, I thought I hadn’t. I guess they were still deep in my memories, despite Rumplestiltskin trying to take them away.”

“We could tell by watching that you were beginning to recognize things.”

“Yeah, especially that picture of the two of us dancing. I couldn’t figure out how it was possible that I could be in there.”

“I knew you would work it out, Swan. You’re bloody brilliant.”

A blush filled her cheeks at his praise. A few beats passed, until she said, “Now, tell me about the Jolly Roger. What happened to her?”

Killian’s fingers switched from stroking her face to scratching behind his ear. “I, uh, she no longer belongs to me,” he admitted softly.

Emma’s eyes grew wide, her mouth forming an O in surprise. “Wh-what do you mean? Who has her?”

He swallowed hard, no longer able to meet her gaze. “Blackbeard.”

“He stole your ship from you?” she asked, anger seeping into her voice.

“No, I…I traded her to him,” he muttered.

She shifted backwards to look more fully into his face. “Why in the world would you do that?”

Licking his lips nervously, he considered how to answer. He hadn’t wanted to tell her all the details about how he found her and Henry after Pan’s curse; what he’d given up and why he made that choice. He was afraid it would overwhelm her to discover how desperate he was to have her back with him. She was just beginning to trust him enough to let down her walls for him, and he didn’t want to give her a reason to build them back up and shut him out.

Finally, he said, “I needed a magic bean and he had one. The only thing he would consider to trade for it was the Jolly.”

“But why would you need a…” she stopped and a strange look passed across her face. “You used the bean to get to New York and find us, didn’t you?”

He raised his eyes to hers. “Aye,” he replied simply.

“You traded your ship for me?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“It was the only way, Emma. Your family needed you and your boy, and I…I couldn’t bear to be apart from you any longer, so when I got that message from the bird, I did the only thing I could. I would do it again in a heartbeat. I have no regrets.”

“But Killian, it’s your home.”

“They say home is where your heart lies, and…” his voice trailed off, unsure of how she would receive his declaration of her being his home. Silence filled the room as they each got lost in their thoughts.

“I remember telling you that the only one who saves me is me,” Emma said at last, “but you seem to keep saving me again and again.”

He wrapped his right arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest, whispering his words into her hair. “You have saved me too, Emma, in more ways than you will ever know.”

She was quiet for a long while as he reveled in holding her close. “Do you think we might be able to catch a break and not have a crisis for the next few days?” she asked.

Killian chuckled. “I wouldn’t count on it, Swan. This town seems to attract every imaginable disaster.”

“And yet you chose to stay here when you could have sailed away and left it behind.”

“I stayed for one reason.”

“I know,” she stated. “To get your revenge.”

“That’s why I came here, but that’s not why I stayed.”

She leaned back to look at him. “Why then?”

“Don’t you know, Emma?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “It’s you.”

He watched the look in her eyes change from wonder to disbelief to awestruck, as tears gathered in them. Then she leaned in and tentatively pressed her lips to his.

Killian slid his hand up to the back of her head, holding her to him as he returned the kiss. Their lips moved softly and languidly together, the tips of their tongues teasing and tasting.

The kiss they shared when she returned had been filled with relief and passion, and left him breathless. This tender kiss spoke of the deeper connection they now shared with one another; one built on trust, understanding, and another feeling neither of them was quite ready to express out loud.

It left him equally breathless.

When it ended, Emma snuggled into his chest, his arms encircling her and holding her tight. He knew she could probably feel his heart hammering in his chest, but if she did, she didn’t mention it.

They lay quietly for so long, he was sure she had fallen asleep, so her words murmured into his neck took him by surprise. “Killian, may I ask you something?”

“Of course, Love.”

She raised herself up to rest on her elbow and looked into his face. “Do you ever think about…taking our relationship…to the next level?”

“The next level?” he asked, hoping he understood what she meant.

“Yeah, you know…physically,” she said, a blush moving up her throat.

He reached up to brush his fingertips over her reddened cheek. “I have,” he affirmed. “It just…it never seems to be the right time.”

She ran her hand down his chest and teased the skin under the hem of the henley he was wearing. “Now seems like a pretty good time,” she whispered into his ear, sending shivers of excitement through his body.

“Are…are you sure? Your parents are right downstairs.”

“Despite the upstairs being open, sound in the loft doesn’t really travel; it’s almost as if it’s been soundproofed. I never hear them when they’re…being intimate. Thank the lord.”

A grin spread across his face, but faded almost as soon as it appeared. “Emma, are you really sure?”

Her eyes darted between his before she leaned in and kissed him again, her tongue demanding permission to explore the warmth of his mouth. When she pulled away, leaving him panting, she asked, “Does that answer your question? If not, maybe this will.”

Her hand moved lower to rub against the pronounced ridge of his cock through his flannel pajama pants. He groaned, closing his eyes as he felt his erection stiffen even more. “Gods, Emma!” he gasped.

“Shh, this place might be reasonably private, but I don’t want to test that theory,” she mumbled against his lips.

He would’ve been able to follow her instructions better if she hadn’t squeezed his cock at the same time she was admonishing him.

As she continued to move one hand up inside his borrowed shirt and give attention to his rapidly swelling shaft with the other, Killian began to lavish open-mouthed kisses from below her ear down to her collarbone.

“Too many clothes,” Emma murmured. “I need…”

“Need what, Love?” he asked, between licking at the small marks he had sucked under her clavicle.

“I need to feel your skin on mine,” she whispered. “I just…I need more.”

He nodded his understanding before reaching behind himself to grasp the collar of the shirt and yank it over his head. Her fingers went to work right away, skimming through the abundant hair on his chest and abdomen.

“Do you have any idea how often I’ve wanted to do this?” she sighed. “You and your aversion to buttoning your shirts has nearly driven me wild sometimes.”

Her light touches were doing the same to him at the moment, but he wasn’t about to complain. He spent the last two weeks yearning to bring her back. Being separated from her cemented his awareness that he had to have Emma Swan in his life.

“Your turn, Swan,” he said, pulling at the collar of her pajama top.

She sat up and gave him a sultry smirk, then slowly began undoing the buttons down the front of the shirt. His breath caught as her fingers pushed each one through the buttonhole, knowingly teasing him. He was sure it would be worth the wait.

His assumption was verified when she finally shrugged out of the shirt, exposing her splendid breasts to his hungry eyes. “Bloody hell,” he exhaled on a shaky breath, and then he was giving them the attention they deserved - fondling, licking and kissing them, while Emma closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure.

She fell back on the bed and he shifted to hover over her, his hand and wrist working their way down her ribcage to the top of her pajama pants. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and he halted his movements.

“Is…is something wrong?” she questioned.

“What if I…impregnate you?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m using birth control.” At his quizzical look, she explained, “That means there’s hardly any chance I’ll get pregnant from…doing this.”

“Oh, I see. That’s good to know,” he replied. “Shall we, um, proceed?”

In response, she grinned and trailed her fingers down his stomach and under the waistband of his sleep pants. He inhaled sharply as her fingers wrapped around his girth, returning the favor by easing his hand down the back of her pants to squeeze her lovely backside.

Their pajama bottoms and underwear soon joined their shirts on the floor and they were completely bared to each other. He knew his Swan had nicely toned muscles on her trim form, but gods above, he could never have imagined how breathtaking she was, her body absolute perfection.

Killian took his time mapping her curves with his fingers, lips and tongue, while her hands roamed and stroked his physique. He didn’t know how much longer he would be able to hold himself back, but he was determined to let Emma be the initiator for every step.

When his fingers found their way to the heat between her legs, he could feel that she was very ready. He slid them through her sodden folds, his thumb finding her bundle of nerves. Her legs began trembling and her fingernails dug into his sides.

“K-Killian,” she stammered, voice low and sultry, “I…please say you’re ready.”

“Aye, Love,” he grunted, his cock so painfully erect, he was afraid he would explode as soon as he was inside her.

She arranged herself underneath him, widening her legs, and he settled between them. Looking up, his eyes met hers and he was awed by what he saw there. This wasn’t about satisfying lustful feelings for either of them; he could tell it was more than that. If he had to put into words what was shining in her eyes, he would say it was affection and trust, and a large part of him hoped he wasn’t reading too much into it by thinking he saw love there as well.

Bending her legs, she brought them up on either side of him, then reached down and aligned him at her entrance. He pushed into her slowly, watching her face for any sign of discomfort, but her eyes were closed in bliss as she ran her tongue across her bottom lip, puffing out short breaths.

When he was completely engulfed in her heat, he rested his forehead against hers, biting his lip to keep from saying the words that were on the tip of his tongue. She had said her heart was back with him where it belonged, but stopped short of saying those three little words. Even though he was completely in love with her, he wasn’t going to tell her, until she declared her love for him first. He couldn’t take the risk of making her run to avoid her feelings, as she was prone to do. For now, he was going to savor the feeling of being joined together with her.

Once he was sure he could move without climaxing too soon, he slowly withdrew and pushed back in. “Faster, Killian,” Emma whimpered, digging her nails into his arse.

He complied, snapping his hips while trying to muffle his groans of pleasure. The pleading gasps she pressed into his chest spurred him to deepen his thrusts and she began lifting her hips to meet them.

Killian could tell she was getting close and started adding an extra grind with his pelvis, which quickly had the desired effect. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him to her tightly as her orgasm washed over her. He saw her biting her lip to keep from crying out, briefly wondering what it would be like the next time when they were in a more private setting - if there was a next time. Gods, he hoped there would be a next time.

Her walls squeezing his cock prompted his own release. He stilled within her as he spasmed, his breathing harsh and raspy in the crook of her neck.

Their sweat and breath mingled as they lay tangled together, neither ready to move away from the other yet. Her fingers kneaded the skin on his back as he scattered kisses over her shoulder and throat.

After several minutes, Emma finally spoke. “Do you remember when I told you it was a one-time thing after we kissed in Neverland?”

“Aye,” Killian assured her, wondering with a bit of apprehension where the conversation was heading.

“I won’t say that this time, because I’m really hoping it’s not,” she said, lightly trailing her fingertips along his jaw.

“I’m very happy to hear that,” he sighed, pushing up to look into her eyes.

She cupped his face between her hands. “You look exhausted, Killian. We should both get some sleep.”

“Aye, Love. I won’t argue with that, as long as I can stay here with you.”

She gave him a soft kiss. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

After using tissues from her bedside table to clean up, they redressed and settled into bed. He held her in his arms, her head on his chest and her legs tucked between his.

“Goodnight, Killian,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Love,” he returned, then drifted off into his first restful sleep since she was pulled away from him, intent on never letting her go again.

*********

Please send @kmomof4 some birthday love. If anyone deserves it, she certainly does!

Tagging: @xsajx @hookedmom @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @lyssapup27 @swanlovato @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @lkles08 @wyntereyez @bubblegum1425 @xhookswenchx @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @dreamingdreamsalways @oncechicagolove @andiirivera @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @vampcoffeegyrl23 @enchanted-swans @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @lavenderbudd @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @xouatxcs @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084 @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @cocohook38 @captainswan4life85 @molly958 @kingofmyheart14 @badwolfreturns @itsfridaysomewhere@fallingforthecaptain @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @omgmarvelousmorgan @justanother-unluckysoul @mrs-potato-but-likes-tomato @anothersworld @deckerstarblanche @purplehawkcaptain @superchocovian @k-leemac @citygirlscowboy @laughterandbooks @sotangledupinit @apiratewhopines @huntressandlioness1 @cosette141 @gingerpolyglot @motherkatereloyshipper @cs-rylie

#csff #her heart's home #jrob64 #part II of where her heart belongs #killian's pov #a birthday story for Krystal #happy birthday @kmomof4 #canon divergent #portal transport #wiped memories #cs smut and fluff #cs fanfiction #captain swan fan fiction #captain swan fic #ouat captain swan fanfic

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saptaincwan · 1 year

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woke up. starvign for more cs fics please if you have recs. lmk,, 💗

#captain swan #also tons of notifs omg i will reply 2 ppl tomorrow mornign #i am Spoiled to hell and back by the thousands upon thousands of cs fics my tastes have gotten so specific 😭#starving for canon divergence/compliance again #tbh i think i can read most of verthing ur all. so talented #peace and love #anchor

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makwandis · 1 year

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imagine if I could like actually write out my ideas and make them into fics...imagine....

#i dont think many ppl would read em tho #because i just write extremely canon divergent stuff like it isnt even hetalia anymore #and its just abkut vikings #and i just do it to make myself happy #like cs lewis lmao #i write what i want tk read #so #eh #but if u want viking baltic prussia fics...hmu!?!!? idfk

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ohmightydevviepuu · 7 months

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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.

#cs fic #canon divergence #season 3a #no curse renaissance

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snowbellewells · 1 year

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Belated Birthday Fic for @jrob64

Joni (@jrob64) this is long overdue now, and probably not worth the waiting you've done for it, but I still wanted to give you the story I wrote for your birthday. It takes place in Season 2, after Emma leaves Hook on the beanstalk, but diverges in that Hook carches up with the Savior and the rest of the Princess squad again without Cora. There's some mentioned whump and I hope plenty of hurt/comfort (since you and I both enjoy that so! ;) And I hope you'll still like it, even though it's now well past your birthday. I am so glad we are friends and that this OTP and fandom lead us to meet and get to know each other!

“Consequences”

by: @snowbellewells

The logs and twigs they’d gathered for their campfire were crackling mightily, releasing occasional pops when sap ignited, but giving off the light and heat their weary and mismatched group needed as they wordlessly gathered on a fallen stump and large rock nearby. None of the women spoke. Exhausted and worried, and still not fully trusting of each other, they merely watched as Mary Margaret spun the rabbit she’d brought back for supper on the spit they had rigged up over the fire and listened as Mulan finished assembling the tent they’d soon crawl into once they had eaten at last.

This wilderness was about the furthest thing from an “Enchanted” Forest that Emma could have conjured in her naive 21st century mind, but she was simply too drained to point out the irony to either her mother - she wasn’t even ready to apply that term to her friend and roommate yet - or honest-to-goodness freaking Sleeping Beauty. And it didn’t help that she kept hearing Hook’s voice echoing in her ears, the hurt and shocked betrayal in his tone - and in those dangerously expressive eyes - as he’d pled with her, ‘Have I told you a lie? Why do this to me now?’ She had the sinking feeling that no matter how tired her body might be, when she lay her head down tonight, she wouldn’t be able to sleep for seeing his face as it had looked when she had turned away on the back of her eyelids, and her guilt at leaving him chained atop the beanstalk gnawing at her insides.

Shaking her head clear, Emma reminded herself once again that Hook had been in league with Cora; they had no proof but his word, her gut feeling, and her superpower no one else believed, that he wasn’t still working for the witch against them. She’d done the right thing, Emma savagely scolded her yammering conscience. Nothing was worth the risk of not getting back to Henry - or even worse, seeing Regina’s evil mother find her way to where Henry was. Certainly not a piercing-eyed pirate who seemed to see right through her and make her squirm doing it.

With a nod and murmur of thanks, she took the portion of roasted meat offered to her on a makeshift skewer and nibbled at it gingerly. It might just be that she was famished and too tired to be picky, but it tasted better than expected. Emma was swallowing her second bite, when noise caught her attention from the nearby treeline. She jerked upright, immediately on guard; her state of near-slumber shattered and all her nerves jangling with alarm. Her eyes met Mary Margaret’s as her mother reached for her bow and Emma stood with fists clenched, ready to defend them however she could, whether her gun was any use out here or not. Mulan had abandoned the tent at the sound as well, smoothly drawing her sword and facing the trees in front of them like a deadly sentinel.

The noise of heavy footsteps smashing through the underbrush grew nearer and louder; branches snapped, heavy, gasping breaths were heard, and Emma could only square her shoulders and wait for whatever new foe was coming forth to show itself.

What she wasn’t expecting - and what tore a harsh gasp from her throat on sight - was for Hook to stumble dazedly out of the woods toward them, momentarily leaning against a tree trunk to steady himself, his face obviously bloody and his clothing torn. He took a couple more weaving steps toward them before the toe of his boot caught a root that sent him sprawling face down in the dirt at their feet. And he didn’t get up. Didn’t move or speak. Emma was rushing forward in spite of herself before she could think better of it. Her mother called for her to be careful, and Mulan’s stern face cautioned it could be a ploy, but she paid neither of them much heed.

He still hadn’t moved, and he looked even worse close up. He’d been hurt. Badly. Surely Anton wouldn’t have… This wasn’t what she had wanted. Was this her fault?

Crouching, Emma tried to shake Hook gently, to stir him back into wakefulness. A groan escaped him breathily, which shouldn’t have relieved her nearly as much as it did. There was nothing for it but to roll him over onto his back. At least then she could see his face and assess the damage.

But when she did, her breath caught a second time, choking up somewhere between her throat and her lungs. She couldn’t imagine there had been many times in the life of Captain Killian Jones when this could be said of him, but he looked terrible. His lower lip was busted, with rusty remnants of dried blood staining where they had trailed down his chin. One eye was swollen nearly shut, and the other was bleary to the point that she wondered how he had made his way to them through the dark. A large gash that had barely closed showed beneath the disheveled dark fringe on his forehead. Dark, purpled bruises and nasty scrapes mottled the skin of his face, neck and collar nearly everywhere she could see. Though she would have never admitted it aloud, Hook’s usually flawless countenance was horribly altered by whatever had happened to him. The shadows darkening his usual mischievious sparkle and daring turned her stomach in a way she couldn't begin to explain.

He struggled to raise his head slightly and blinked up at her as best he could through the usable slit of his eye. “Ah Swan, caught up to you, didn’t I?” he jested brokenly, somehow still teasing her through what must be immense pain.

Tilting her head to study him, Emma struggled to look unamused while inexplicably aching to place a hand to his forehead, brush back the matted hair there, and offer some modicum of comfort. Her fingers moved almost of their own accord, hovering just barely over his cheek before hesitating and pulling back, tingling at their proximity even as she resisted making contact. There didn’t appear to be a single place on him that wasn’t battered and wouldn’t cause him more pain if she tried to touch.

As if reading her concern, Hook shifted restlessly, attempting to lever himself upright and then falling back with a wince and guttural moan of protest. She also noticed for the first time how tightly he kept his hook arm pressed to his side, not sure if the injury was to the arm itself or if he were shielding his stomach or ribs, but it ratcheted her worry for him that much higher. Not certain what to do for him, or what to say, her usual half-annoyed bantering retorts fled her the longer she witnessed his vulnerability. Emma finally settled on simply answering his question, and asking one of her own. “It would appear you’ve caught me,” she acknowledged, then added softer, “But why?”

Huffing out a weary breath, Killian didn’t look at her as he barely shook his head, the motion seeming to express that he didn’t quite know himself. “I guess because, double cross and all, Lass, you lot are the safest choice for company of my rather limited options.”

Emma flushed with embarrassment at his casual mention of what she’d done. Her cheeks burned, knowing the man who lay before her could surely see how she’d colored at the reminder and could only hope that his current state made him less sharply observant than usual. That she hadn’t trusted him or the brief alliance they’d made shamed her, and then made her angry for feeling ashamed. She’d been burned before, and had learned to be more wary. That she had wanted to believe him, and had silently agreed when he’d called them quite a team, had only made her more anxious to leave him behind, to flee before he turned on her and she was left in the dust herself. Pushing the conflicting emotions aside, she tried another tack instead. “But what happene to you? How did…? Surely Anton didn’t…?” She was tripping over her words now, flustered and chiding herself as she shook her head in frustration.

Biting her tongue until she could regain control, her eyes flew to her hand when Killian used his to clasp it and gain her attention. Though his fingers were trembling with the effort, he held on and answered her slowly. “No, that wasn’t the work of your giant admirer. Your new friend released me once the time you requested of him had passed. Bloody gargantuan numbskull threatened me to leave you in peace, but he didn’t do this damage.”

Emma exhaled air she’d hardly realized she was holding. It didn’t make things right between them, but she was grateful that she hadn’t misjudged Anton’s nature and directly caused the torture Hook had clearly undergone. “But then, who?” she whispered, finally daring to squeeze the hand that held hers in return, while at last reaching out and smoothing a light caress over his brow.

He flinched slightly at the initial contact, but then his eyes fell closed momentarily with a sigh of relief. Emma had to know, though the only other option she could think of had dread settling in her belly like stone. “Who did this to you?” she choked.

“Why Cora, of course,” he intoned, trying to appear either flippant or matter of fact and failing with the shadows that passed over his expression. “Not honestly sure why she didn’t finish the job, unless she thought she had and this old body is just too stubborn to give up the ghost.” He drew in a ragged breath before adding, “At any rate, after letting me know that she would leave me here, unable to ever gain my vengeance on Rumplestiltskin, she made certain she had demonstrated the consequences of choosing to align myself against her.”

By this point, his breathing had grown shallow and labored once more with the effort of speaking. Shushing him with a plea to rest, Emma was eager to check with the others about anything they might be able to do for his injuries. He certainly didn’t need her to keep him talking as she was. Pressing trembling lips together, Emma dashed away the single drop of moisture that had escaped her eye and laid his hand tenderly back on his chest. “Well, thankfully, Cora counted her win a bit too soon. Let’s see if we can help you live to fight another day.”

His unfairly long lashes fluttered, and a small, soft chuckle broke from his cracked lips, but Killian seemd to be rapidly giving up the fight to remain lucid. Emma wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad while they tried to tend to his wounds, but she had to do something. She wasn’t going to desert him again.

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

When his eyes fluttered open some time later, Killian Jones found himself dazed and dizzy, then almost nauseous, with his throat parched and dry. Panic followed almost immediately as he struggled to gain his bearings and found himself weak as a newborn kitten, floundering even to sit up unaided. He could not have said whether it had been minutes, hours, or days since he was last aware of his surroundings, but just as he was not sure how much time had passed, he was also vaguely uncertain of where he was and whether or not he was alone - an even more disturbing condition.

His mind was reeling as he attempted to move, scrabbling around over the dry, dusty ground with his good hand in a frantic search for his cutlass. Surely he must have left it within reach. He had learned long ago, even as the captain of a mostly loyal pirate crew, that enemies were varied and numerous, and that he must never let his guard down without a weapon close at hand. He had a jagged, long-healed gash running under his ribs, which Smee had tried his best - if rather crookedly - to sew closed, but which had taught him that lesson all too well.

With a frenzied sound of frustration in his throat, Killian kept fighting to sit upright, ready to defend himself against some unknown foe, only to have hands grip his upper arms tightly, pressing him back and forcing him to remain on the ground. “Unhand me, you blackguard!” he growled, only to have his vision finally regain focus and the fight abruptly drain from his limbs when he found himself staring up at Emma Swan hovering over him, her touch the one keeping him in place.

“Easy there, Hook,” she chided, loosening her grip as he stilled and grew calmer upon seeing he was not under immediate attack. “You’ve got to settle down, or you’ll hurt yourself even more. We tried to stitch the deepest of your cuts and bandage you up. Don’t undo it all!”

She was fussing over him, Killian realized belatedly, his hazy and addled mind slowly filling in the blanks he had missed. She might be scolding and grumbling as she did so, but she was still frightened for his well-being and more concerned for his comfort than he would have dared imagine possible.

He had known there was a frisson of energy that flowed between them when he’d taken her hand in the giant’s lair, cleansing and caring for the cut on her palm despite her stubbornly self-effacing protests. And he really hadn’t thought he was imagining the way she’d held her breath and her pupils had dilated when he’d eyed her daringly while tying off the bandage with his teeth. Still, he’d been hesitant to place too much fatih in what he was reading from her either. Emma Swan was overly guarded and used to being on her own. Someone had obviously hurt her deeply enough to make her push everyone else away in response. Not only that, but she was an actual royal - the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, no less - and the fabled Savior besides. Her light was much too pure and bright to be aligned with his dark and tarnished pirate soul set on vengeance.

All the same, he had cursed himself as seven times a fool when his heart plummeted at her turning and running from him on the beanstalk. He had held out a little hope for them, in spite of his better judgement, or he would not have been so hurt by the betrayal. She was as full of shining enticement, from her flowing golden hair to her sparkling jade eyes, as any buried treasure. He couldn’t help wanting to stay by her side.

As Emma slowly moved to support him, helping him ease into a sitting position while bracing him against her own hip and shoulder, she offered him a water skin and held it up so he could take a much-needed cool drink of water. Killian was stunned to realize that maybe winning her over wasn’t as lost a cause as he had thought. Perhaps Emma Swan already cared more than she wanted to allow herself, and against her own good sense - much as he had found himself doing.

Several quiet moments passed before Killian fully registered that all was still and motionless around them. It was full dark now; the middle of the night, or perhaps early morning, if his view of the moon was accurate, yet he could hear no movements or voice’s from Emma’s royal, bandit, or warrior companions. The fire next to them was dimmed to near embers, and it seemed for the moment as if he and Emma were the only two people under the brilliant array of stars overhead.

Now that he had his bearings and his thirst was slaked, he ventured a glance beyond his lovely blonde Savior’s beguiling face, at least far enough to see that a rough tent had been staked and three bed rolls were occupied beneath its temporary shelter, explaining their privacy, but raising even more questions. Why were the rest of them willing to lower their guard enough to sleep with a virtual stranger and former enemy in their camp? It had been hard to miss the warning and distrust in the Lady Snow’s eyes, at any rate - probably largely protectiveness for her daughter, but still, why grant him this sort of uninterrupted interlude with Emma then? He was clearly in poor shape; maybe they had reckoned he couldn’t do anything to harm them, or charm Emma too thoroughly, as injured as he was.

Killian was abruptly startled from his wandering thoughts when he once more felt the cool, soothing touch of Emma’s fingertips trailing up the side of his face and into his hair. She raked the dark strands back from his fevered skin, calming even the pounding that pained him from the magical beating he’d endured and the rough impact his head had suffered when Cora finally dropped his battered body to the hard ground and left him for dead.

The Enchanted Forest’s lost princess spoke so quietly he had to strain to hear her when she addressed him again, her eyes studiously avoiding his to observe her fingers carding through the mussed, blood-caked strands of his hair. “I’m sorry… truly, I am. It was wrong of me to leave you behind the way I did, and… I should have trusted you. You may be a pirate, and awfully full of yourself, and way too flirty for your own good…”

At that, Killian attempted to waggle an eyebrow and smirk salaciously to make her smile, only for a cringe to escape him at the motion of his brow and lip.

She noticed, of course, and rather than admonishing that it served him right, as she would have usually done, Emma hissed in sympathy and hushed him with a gentle hum in the back of her throat. “See, this shouldn’t have happened to you, Ho - Killian.” Her switch from his moniker to his real name struck him right in the center of the chest, with as much emphasis as a physical blow. He couldn’t decide if her concern, guilt, and contrition more warmed his heart or troubled him - not wanting to win her over out of mere pity. “That witch only caught up to you, found you empty-handed, because of what I did. This is my fault… b-but… I never wanted you to be hurt like this. I only wanted a head start, to get back to my son.”

If he hadn’t been shocked to his core already, the depth of emotion in Swan’s voice as she made her confession would have been enough to bowl him over. It sounded as though she might be on the verge of tears on his behalf, and Killian could hardly fathom it. Drawing a ragged breath of his own, he wet his cracked lips and managed a sincere response to her heartfelt openness.

“Darling,” and here he couldn’t help a bit of a rogueish grin at her, despite how it pulled on the broken skin of his lip again.

She shook her head, but didn’t scoff or interrupt, not this time, and heartened, he continued in all sincerity. “I’m not going to lie to you. I was angry when you shackled me there and left me behind. I’d been on the level with you, was doing my best to help you, and for the first the time in a long time, I felt like I connected with someone genuinely. But I also understand that your boy is your first priority. You cannot let anything else matter as much - or even possibly risk his safety.”

His battered knuckles were beginning to swell, and his fingers ached as he moved them, but Killian still managed to return the clutch of Emma’s own hand and intertwine their fingers with a sigh of rightness and relief. Glancing back up to search her gaze once more, he added, “I understand what being separated from one’s child might do to a person… more than you might think, in fact. I respect you all the more for your urgency and desire to return to him as soon as possible.”

He could see Emma wondering what his words might mean; the gears turning in her sharp mind were obvious, even if she only pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes slightly, watching him a few moments longer. Thankfully, she didn’t press the matter further, but instead released what seemed a lungful of air she must have been holding worriedly and gave him a hopeful smile. “So… you forgive me, then?”

The barest dip of his chin was as far as he dared move his aching head, but Killian assured her without hesitation, “Aye, Emma, I do,” in as strong and certain a voice as he could muster.

By then, the faintest tendrils of light were beginning to break through the deep indigo sky and soft hints of scuffling and waking from their fellow travelers hinted that they would not be alone much longer.

Though he still hurt all over as if he had been scorched by a dragon’s breath and then crushed by an ogre’s tread, Killian couldn’t help but feel as if his situation had drastically changed. Even more so when Emma Swan’s eyes grew warmer yet; her aspect beaming crookedly at him like sunlight slowly emerging from a bank of clouds. Just before they were joined by Snow White bearing coffee for his Savior, Emma winked at him conspiratorially and leaned forward to murmur. “I’m glad, Pirate. After all, we make quite the team, remember?”

Tagging a few others who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @apiratewhopines @sotangledupinit @stahlop @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @killian-whump @artistic-writer @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kazoosandfannypacks @justanother-unluckysoul @wefoundloveunderthelight @motherkatereloyshipper @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @jonesfandomfanatic @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @drowned-dreamer @xarandomdreamx @caught-in-the-filter

#belated bday fic #gift for @jrob64 #cs one shot #ouat s2 canon divergent ff #consequences #killian whump #hurt comfort

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 2 years

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Valentine’s Rerun (1 of 2): Cupid’s Grenade

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

Originally part of my Fluffy Fridays collection. When a mysterious stranger comes to town and sets off a magical grenade in Granny’s during the breakfast rush on the day before Valentine’s Day, the residents of the town suddenly feel extra amorous. What will Emma and Killian do if the spell doesn’t wear off?

CS Genre: Canon divergence from early 3b

He crossed the town line into Storybrooke late on the night of February 12th. He walked for half a mile before he reached anything resembling civilization, wanting nothing more than a place to rest and regroup, a place to plan his next move.

It had been an extraordinarily bad year. So much discord, so much division everywhere he turned. It drained his energy, his very life source like nothing had since the last Ogre War. He needed an infusion, and he needed one fast. Thank the gods Valentine’s Day was little more than a day away.

He passed a shop, dark and closed, caught his reflection in the picture window and jumped back, startled, bringing one wrinkled, bony hand to his equally wrinkled, bony face. He was even further gone than he’d previously believed. He could only hope the rumors about this sleepy little town were true.

“Storybrooke, that’s where you want to go,” the seer had assured him. “Not only is it the only source of magic in this land, but it’s brimming with True Love, both that which is acknowledged, and that which is denied.”

If he had any hope to survive the week, he needed that True Love.

If this world had any hope to survive, they needed him just as badly.

He walked slowly, laboriously, looking for the most opportune place. Town hall? No, it emitted angry energy, a place of discord. A brick building with a sign over the door calling itself The Rabbit Hole was promising, but still not quite right. Finally, he arrived at an establishment with tables and chairs on the terrace, a bright, neon sign proclaiming Granny’s.

Perfect.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

The next morning, Granny’s

Killian stepped from his room in the bed and breakfast and headed downstairs to the cafe where he was to meet Swan and her parents for a quick strategy meeting while they dined on Granny’s delectable fare.

He smiled to himself, an extra spring in his step as he walked. The situation in which the residents of Storybrooke found themselves was, once again, less than ideal. An unknown, unnamed villain had cursed them back to Storybrooke and wiped their memories of the past year, and no one had any idea why. He should be concerned; he knew he should, but he couldn’t stop the joy that bubbled up within his heart.

Selfish though the thought was, he was grateful for the villain’s machinations, grateful for the curse.

For it was the curse that allowed him to cross worlds, the curse that allowed him to be reunited with his Swan, the curse that ended the hell that had been the last year without her.

Oh, he’d tried to convince himself that he’d merely needed to return to his pirate lifestyle, but every step he took away from her, away from the hero he’d tried to become for her, had felt wrong, made him feel her loss even more acutely.

Slowly, but surely he’d come to realize that it was more than just the loss of the love of his life that made his pirate activities lose their luster. He’d changed. Not just because of her, but because of himself. He wanted to be a good man, a hero.

Killian stepped into the cafe. Early though it was, the sun had barely come up, the establishment was already brimming with business. He scanned the tables until he saw her sitting at a booth across from her parents.

His heart turned over. She was so bloody beautiful, so bloody precious to him.

He knew she was hesitant to embrace life here in Storybrooke once again. She loved her parents, held at least some amount of affection for him, but the weight of being The Savior hung heavy on her. He couldn’t blame her for wishing to retain the seemingly peaceful existence she’d lived with her lad in New York.

Still, she’d come back with him, had agreed to help her family, the whole town, defeat the newest threat to their safety. He could only hope to one day exhibit half her courage and selflessness.

“Hook, you finally made it,” Swan said, scooting over and patting the seat next to her. “After all your talk about being a pirate and rising with the sun I thought I was going to have to go up and drag your butt out of bed.”

Killian gratefully took the seat next to Emma, using all his willpower to avoid imagining Emma coming to his bed.

“I rise with the sun, darling,” he said with a grin, “but it would seem you lot couldn’t wait for that auspicious occasion.”

Emma looked down, playing with the handle of her mug of cocoa. “Yeah, well we wanted to make sure and meet early enough that we could talk before Henry wakes up. Don’t want the kid to get freaked out with mentions of curses and villains and whatever other crap we need to discuss. He doesn’t have his memories, after all.”

Snow White reached across the table and covered her daughter’s hand on her mug. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll find a way to bring back Henry’s memories. Somehow. And until then everyone here has agreed to live like that sleepy, normal town we thought we were during the curse.”

Emma glanced aside, a look of guilt on her face, and not for the first time, Killian wondered if she even wanted her son to regain his memories. He could feel the turmoil coming off of her in waves and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and sooth the tension away.

But he knew his Swan better than that. She’d rebuilt the fortress around her heart over the last, long year of separation, and it would take him some time to help her disassemble it; some time before his advances were once again tolerated, let alone welcomed.

“Okay,” Emma said, after a deep breath, “so we know someone cursed you. We know a year has gone by that you don’t remember. We know crossing the town line turns people into, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, flying monkeys. Anything else I’m missing?”

“I had a conversation with the dwarfs,” David answered, “and after their latest patrol at the town line, they found…”

Suddenly the door to the diner was slammed open, the bell above ringing angrily. The entire diner went silent, still, as the oldest man Killian had ever seen walked slowly in until he was standing in the very center of the room. Dressed all in red, quite the dapper tuxedo and top hat at that, the man walked, hunched over, leaning heavily on a cane. Every eye was on him as he stopped, looked at the gaudy Valentine’s Day decorations Granny had hung, shaking his head at the Cupid with his bow and arrow, and then reached into his breast pocket.

Killian watched, fascinated as he pulled out a small red object in the shape of a heart, pulled a pin from its center, tossed it to the floor and then slowly began walking away.

“Grenade!” Leroy shouted as the object began smoking.

Chaos ensued as the cafe’s patrons scrambled to reach the exits, but it was clear they’d never be free of the building in time. Killian reacted on instinct, moving to cover Swan’s body with his own just as a large “boom!” filled the diner as the heart-shaped object exploded.

He waited for the shock, the pain as the explosive blasted him, but it never came. He looked up to see nothing but a pink, shimmering cloud billowing from the heart, suffusing the diner, and then dissipating.

For a moment he felt an intense burst of love and longing for the woman beside him, and he instinctively looked down into her startled eyes, but then she blinked, and the spell was over. Killian shook his head and sat up, resuming his own seat on the bench.

For a moment, a shocked silence fell over the room, and then an excited buzz began as Granny’s patrons realized they had indeed survived the...whatever the blazes that had been.

“What the hell was that?!” Emma ground out.

“I don’t know,” Dave said, “but I have a feeling we really need to find out.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Later that afternoon

“Cupid? You’re telling me that old guy was Cupid?”

Emma ground her teeth in frustration, keeping her hands resolutely in her jeans pockets lest she do something stupid like grab her pirate (no! Not her pirate) and kiss the daylights out of him.

What was wrong with her?

After the heart grenade had gone off in Granny’s this morning, she, her parents and Hook had found Belle in Gold’s shop to pick her brain, see if she had any idea who the mysterious old man was.

Of all the answers Belle could have given them, “It appears Cupid has come to Storybrooke,” was the last one Emma had expected.

Of course Cupid was real too, because...of course he was.

Belle reached under the counter and retrieved an old book decorated with flowers and hearts. Flipping through several pages, she turned the tome toward them, pointing to a photograph of a very old man.

“That’s him,” Snow said, “that’s the man who...did whatever he did to us.”

“Like I said,” Belle said, turning the book back toward her. “It seems we’ve been visited by Cupid.”

“Who and what is Cupid?” Killian asked from her side. (Emma ground her teeth again, determinedly ignoring the way his velvety voice made the butterflies in her chest flutter and come to life. Ignoring the intense affection she suddenly felt for him. Ignoring the sudden desire to lace her fingers with his.)

“Best I can tell,” Belle said, “he’s a deity of some kind. He, for lack of a better word, feeds on love. It’s his source of sustenance. The more the world around him is depleted of love, the older, frailer he becomes.”

“And what does that have to do with the grenade or whatever that he tossed at us?” Emma asked.

Belle flipped a couple of pages, and then pointed down at a passage of text. “That’s the interesting part. You see, February 14, Valentine’s Day is his big day of love harvest every year. His grenades contain a powerful spell that...encourages love and affection in everyone on which the spell falls. It reaches its peak in 24 hours, which makes today, February 13 the perfect day to launch it.”

Emma groaned. “A love spell? Are you telling me freaking Cupid cast a love spell on all of us? One that won’t wear off until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid so,” Belle answered.

Well, that was just...just…

Actually that was kind of reassuring.

From the second that damn grenade had gone off, Emma had been feeling things she couldn’t explain, things she didn’t want to feel, things she’d been working hard at denying ever since Neverland, maybe even before.

As soon as the spell had cleared, she’d looked up into Killian’s intense blue eyes and felt wave after wave of want, of longing, of...of...love crash over her. She wanted to hold him, kiss him, hold his hand, touch him.

But that wasn’t the worst part. Physical attraction she could handle. Hook was hot, there was no denying that. Feeling a physical pull to him, that was understandable. If she didn’t think it would give him the wrong impression, she’d have no problem giving into her urges. She’d had plenty of one-nighters in the past.

But it wasn’t just physical attraction she felt following the pink, sparkly cloud. No, it was emotions as well. She had the sudden need to talk to him alone, to tell him that she’d somehow missed him during the last year, even though she didn’t remember him. That some part of her had been so intensely happy to see him there at her apartment door that she could hardly contain herself. That his attempted True Love’s Kiss...she didn’t knee him because he’d assaulted her, she’d kneed him because it felt right, like she was coming home and that totally freaked her out. She wanted to tell him she was glad he’d found her, glad he was by her side, glad he’d brought her home.

But that, all of that, was crazy. She didn’t do emotions, didn’t let herself be that vulnerable with another person, someone who could destroy her if she let him.

So all things considered? Finding out she was feeling all this due to a stupid love potion was a relief.

All she had to do was grin and bear it until the spell wore off tomorrow and then everything would be back to normal.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Granny’s Bed and Breakfast, February 15, 2 hours before dawn

Emma tossed and turned, her fitful sleep punctuated by dreams. Disturbing, troubling dreams.

Dreams where she walked with Hook, hand in hand, down by the docks. Where they talked and kissed. He smiled at her and she smiled back. They were both radiantly, blissfully happy. He led her back to his ship (where was his ship, by the way? She was pretty sure she hadn’t seen it since they’d come back to Storybrooke), down to his captain’s quarters.

She teased him about his tiny bed, he’d laughed along with her, wiggling his expressive eyebrows in that ridiculous way of his, joking that it wasn’t the size, it was what you did with it. He’d swaggered to her, invaded her space, threaded his fingers through her hair as he leaned down and captured her lips….

Henry mumbled something in his sleep, and Emma woke with a start.

The dream had been so damn lifelike. She could still feel Killian’s hand in her hair, feel his lips against hers. Bringing a hand to her chest, Emma willed her heart rate to slow. Why was this happening to her?

The last 36 hours had been torture. Pure, beautiful, intense torture.

Her feelings for Killian had grown and strengthened as the 13th and then the 14th wore on, and though she knew they weren’t real, knew they were caused solely by Cupid’s stupid love spell, more than once she’d almost cracked, almost thrown caution to the wind and bared her heart to the man who was constantly in her thoughts.

Emma had been half sure Hook would use the curse to try to get close to her. She was afraid he’d declare himself again, try to force her into an awkward conversation about the feelings they held for each other, but she needn’t have worried. Killian seemed no more eager to explore the effects of the love spell than she was. He’d left the library soon after Belle explained their predicament, and he’d kept his distance ever since.

He’s giving you space. He doesn’t want to pressure you, to take advantage. He’s always a gentleman.

Emma felt a rush of affection yet again, and that alone frustrated her beyond belief. It was February 15, the day after Valentine’s Day. Why hadn’t the spell worn off?

Emma groaned, getting up and tossing on a sweatshirt and slippers. Clearly she wasn’t getting anymore sleep tonight. Better she go down to the diner and get some cocoa rather than risk waking Henry with her frustration.

“Hey, Ruby,” she said on a yawn, settling on a stool at the counter. “Hope I didn’t startle you. I know you’re not exactly open yet.”

“Emma!” she said, stepping around the counter and giving Emma a quick hug. “I’m a wolf, remember? Heard you tossing and turning half the night. Something on your mind?”

Emma buried her head in her hands. “Got any cocoa?”

“Uh oh,” Ruby said, turning to give Emma her full attention. “Is this a regular cocoa with cinnamon conversation or a cocoa with rum conversation?”

“Rum,” Emma mumbled. “Definitely rum.”

Ruby tossed her a sympathetic smile, and then turned toward the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned with a fragrant, steaming mug of cocoa. Sliding it Emma’s way, Ruby leaned on the counter. “Okay, spill. What’s going on?”

“So who was it with you?” Emma asked. “You were here the other morning when Cupid dropped his bomb. Who’d it make you think you love?”

Ruby gave her a strange look. “Who’d it make me….? Emma, what are you talking about?”

“You know, the grenade thing,” Emma said. “I figure it made you think you were in love with the closest person to you. Something like that? I was just wondering who it made you love.”

“Emma, you know magic can’t make you fall in love with someone, right?”

Emma shrugged, then took a sip of her cocoa. “I know it can’t create real love, but I mean, it was a spell, right? Maybe it makes people think they’re feeling things they aren’t.”

Ruby’s smile was far, far too knowing. “Hook right?”

“What?”

“After the whole love cloud thing, it was Hook that you fell for.”

Emma groaned, making Ruby smile all the wider. “Knew it! Knew the hot pirate had your panties in a twist.”

“Ruby!”

“Sorry,” she said, looking anything but. “I just call ‘em like I see ‘em, and from what I see of the two of you around here everyday? Yeah the sparks flying from the two of you could start a forest fire.”

Emma felt her cheeks flush and buried her face in her hands again. “Ruby, it was just…”

“Don’t even think about saying it was just Cupid’s grenade,” Ruby said, “because, one, I’ve seen the two of you together since long behind that old man dropped his love bomb on everyone. Two, like I told you, no magic can create love. And three, you know who I suddenly fell in love with?”

Emma looked up, one eyebrow raised in question.

“No one,” Ruby said. “Nothing changed for me at all. You know why that was? It’s because if there is a person for me out there, they’re not here in Storybrooke.”

“But the cloud…”

Ruby shook her head. “Emma, you and your family aren’t the only ones who talk to Belle and do research, you know. After Cupid’s little stunt I paid her a visit too. Wanted to know what was going on as much as you guys did. I discovered that Cupid feeds on love. Real love. True love. Fake, artificially created love would do nothing for him. So his spell doesn’t make people feel things they don’t; it just helps people focus on the things they actually feel.”

Emma’s heart pounded. “So you’re telling me, the hell I’ve been going through for the past day and a half…”

Ruby grinned again. “Yep. You, Emma Swan, have the hots for Killian Jones. Cupid or no Cupid. Besides, Cupid’s spell wore off several hours ago. If it was fake, you’d have gone back to normal by now.”

Emma took one last swig of her cocoa and then carefully placed the mug back on its coaster. “So what am I supposed to do with this now? How am I supposed to proceed?”

Ruby shrugged, walking to the diner’s door, turning the lock and flipping the sign to open. “That’s totally up to you, but my two cents? Go talk to him. Tell him what you’re thinking and feeling. That unsettling feeling isn’t going to go away until you do.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Killian heard a soft tentative knock on his door and he groaned, swimming reluctantly from the depths of sleep. He’d been having such a good dream, such a beautiful dream. He’d walked with Swan by the docks, taken her aboard the Jolly (how he missed his old girl, though he’d barter her away a million times if it meant he could be with Swan). She’d joked with him about the size of his bunk. He’d kissed her….

Knock, knock, knock

Killian groaned, noting from the pitch black of his window that it was not even dawn yet. He hoped whoever was out there had a bloody good reason for disturbing him.

Tossing on a white undershirt and flannel sleep pants, Killian padded to the door and threw it open.

His irritated “What?” died on his lips when he saw his visitor. Bathed in the soft light of Granny’s hallway, her hair soft against her shoulders, Swan looked like an angel. Killian resisted the urge to pinch himself, half convinced he was still dreaming.

He swallowed hard.

“So, um, can I come in?” she asked with a self-conscious little smile.

Killian snapped his mouth shut and quickly stepped back, gesturing with his hook for her to enter while he flicked the switch that bathed his room with light.

“Of course, love,” he said quickly. “Please, have a seat.”

She looked around and sat on the edge of the second double bed in his room, the one he had not used, and then looked down, picking at a loose thread on the counterpane.

She’s nervous.

Killian’s curiosity was piqued. Why had she come to him at this time of the morning? What could have her so rattled?

“So,” he said finally, when it was clear she wasn’t going to speak first, “what brings you to my room, love?”

“It’s just…” She started, before abruptly standing and turning toward the door. “Ugh, this was a mistake. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

He rose quickly, stepping between her and the door. “Please, Swan. Something’s obviously on your mind. Share your burden with me?”

She took a deep breath, and then nodded.

“It’s the whole Cupid love spell thing,” she said finally.

Killian suddenly looked aside, hand absentmindedly coming up to scratch behind his ear. “Love, you needn’t say anything. I’ve no wish to pressure you, no wish to hear a declaration bourne artificially out of a spell…”

“That’s just it,” she said, stepping into his space, placing her hands on his arms. “I...I...it didn’t go away. The spell wore off yesterday, right? I’m still feeling everything I was feeling then.”

He looked at her quickly, eyes widened, hope blooming within him in spite of himself. “What are you saying, love?”

“I’m saying...look, I don’t know what I’m saying,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him until they were seated, facing each other on his bed. “But there’s, there’s something there between us. I’m really glad it was you that found Henry and me in New York. I’m glad you came back to Storybrooke with me. I, I feel better with you beside me. I’m grateful that you’re there to listen when, you know, things get to be too much. I can’t guarantee I won’t get scared again, and I can’t guarantee I won’t, I don’t know, build walls again, but I just wanted to let you know, at least once, that if we ever just have a peaceful moment in this town...maybe I’d be willing to see where things could go.”

His heart turned over, and he reached up to cup her cheek, couldn’t help himself. Smiling gently, he leaned down and kissed her softly, almost reverently. “Swan,” he breathed on a sigh. “You’ve no need to thank me. By your side is where I’ll always wish to be.”

“Good,” she said softly before leaning in to return his kiss with interest.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

He stopped outside Granny’s Bed and Breakfast and looked up at the single illumined window. Breathing deeply, he smiled to himself. His harvest was complete, and what a harvest it had been!

Passing the same shop he’d passed on his way into town he took a look at his reflection. He stood tall and strong, skin smooth and youthful, hair sandy and neatly combed. He was young and handsome once more.

He started walking toward the edge of town but then stopped, thinking better of it. It was true what they said about this town; it was overflowing with love. Perhaps he’d stick around for a while.

#cs ff #captain swan fanfiction #cs 3b canon divergence #cs valentine's day fic

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