#cs fanfic au

[cs-fox]

Hybrid AU TF141 - a request from a poll I did a while back ❤️

- if hybrids are allowed in the military, I’d assume they were picked because of their superior combat ability. These are not animals, these are soldiers, chosen for their heightened senses and special abilities that give them an edge over normal humans.

- and I bet they’d be so surprised when a normal human joins their taskforce. What was this all about? Surely this human couldn’t have skills equal to theirs?

- after a long time of avoiding this new recruit and her strange smell, slightly friendlier and more curious avian Kyle decides to engage.

- you’re actually quite nice, at least at the surface, and strangely not bothered by the hybrids too much. There’s a couple of scars on your form that makes Kyle wonder but he knows better than to ask.

- the big werewolf, Soap, is next. He sniffs you, actually sniffs you - big, bristly snout nuzzling into your armpit exactly like a real dog. You think it’s pretty adorable till he shifts back, when you realise there’s suddenly a bulky Scotsman with his arm around you - and a wolfish grin on his face.

- then there’s Price, an aging sheepdog, with a beard akin to his animal counterpart. His dark, beady eyes are kind, but seem to hold a lot of knowledge, and unnerve you every time they fall on your form.

- finally, Ghost. He’s a kind of shapeshifter, for use of a more mundane term, because of his parentage. There’s wolfish ears atop his thatched blonde head but shadows leak from his imposing form like dry ice.

- he almost doesn’t say a word when he approaches, simply observing, as you rock on the balls of your feet awkwardly.

- ‘Um - hi. I’m - ’ ‘Y/N.’ he says, with an unreadable look. ‘I’m Ghost.’

- ‘Well, it’s an honour,’ you tried, attempting reverence, but you didn’t see any change in his demeanour.

‘Mhm.’

His eyes were so powerful, you swore they were boring holes in you, trying to suck your soul out through your mouth.

‘I mean - being able to work with this team. It really is.’

The man didn’t even move, until you made some lame excuse and all but ran off down the corridor back to your quarters, where you stayed for the next hour, a little thrown off by the huge skull-masked man.

You only opened the door when you heard scratching - a small noise, like a tiny animal was begging to be let in.

Because Ghost, despite his stony exterior, had taken to you straight away. You were a kind of light to him - friendly, kind, and a little bit oblivious… even so, he couldn’t resist trying to get a peek inside your quarters - after all, being a shapeshifter had it’s uses.

When the door cracked open, there was a slim tortoiseshell cat, with beautiful dark eyes. You gazed at it in wonder - how did a cat get into the barracks?

It mewled softly, and you scooped it up, grunting slightly at its unusual weight.

‘C’mon baby. I’ll see if I have any food for you.’

Having to gulp down warm milk was all worth it in the end for Ghost, after all, it wasn’t such a torture if it meant he got to spend the night in your bed.

[donteattheappleshook]

Not Broken at All Chapter 18/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated E

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Oh hey! What's up everyone?

I know it's been a while (shocking) but it's Solstice today and the muse decided something needed to be posted for this fic in honour of the fairy orgies XD

This was written super fast and not really re-read because it's already 10pm so I'll probably edit it later but I'm giving it to you all now.

Happy Solstice and I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

********

Part 18

“Doesn’t look so bad,” Will shrugs when they stand outside the mouth of the cave the next morning. Emma and Wendy roll their eyes at the same time. It does look that bad. For a place called Echo Cave she’d had expected something bigger, something louder. But all she can see as they approach is a narrow tunnel in the rockface, no sound escaping from within. So she jumps when Tiger Lily’s voice suddenly comes from within. 

“You’re late.”

“Apologies,” Killian nods. “The forest has changed a fair bit since I last made the journey - it took us longer than anticipated to find the path.” 

“You have a habit of doing that,” Tiger Lily scoffs. “Misinterpreting time.” 

The reply is so quick, and Killian’s sigh so exhausted, that Emma has to hold back a snort of laughter.

“We came as fast as we could.”

“Come then, let’s not delay any further. The others have gathered.” 

“Who are the others?” Emma asks Hook quietly as they follow.

“The eldest of those who were here before Pan. They were barely more than children when it happened, but They have some memory of how things were.” 

“I thought you said they’d forgotten all their magic.” 

“We did not forget,” Tiger Lily snaps from the entrance. Emma watches as the faint, gold dusting of magic that covers their skin, the only light in the otherwise pitch black cave shimmers and slides over their arm, cascading like water down through their fingers  that they trail along the  rocky wall, leaving flecks of sparking, gold dust in their wake.  “It was taken from us. Through slaughter and cruelty. When the children who were left behind grew enough to become a threat to Pan, we were forced to lock away what little we remembered or meet the same fate.” 

Every time she thinks it can’t get worse, it does. The massacre of Tiger Lily’s people and the destruction of their history, the torture and killing of the Lorelei, the horror of the murder of those boys on the beach. There’s no end it seems to Pan’s cruelty, to his thirst for blood. 

Emma reaches for the shimmering of light that remains along the wall, glittering and moving with the flow of the rough surface. It glows brighter beneath her touch and something swells from deep within her, rushing to meet it, warm and electrifying, before she yanks her hand back and stumbles the rest of the way though. 

The walk is long, this cave buried deep in darkness and stardust. She’s not sure she even hears it at first, a small whisper of a voice from far away, the words too quiet to make out, but repeating. As they continue along and a dim light starts to appear in the distance, they grow louder. It’s a child’s voice, rolling against the walls of the cave - wish I’d never come here… just want to go home. Just want to go home. Just want to go home….

She feels Killian’s hand on the small of her back and realizes she’s stopped walking. “It’s alright, love. It’s just an echo. The last secret that was shared here.” She still hesitates, not wanting to get any closer to the haunting voice. “Whoever they were, they’re not here anymore.”

“His name was Ruffio,” Will says, nearly as quiet as the first echo. “He’s been gone a long time.” He only meets her eye for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing as though he hadn’t said anything. She can’t blame him. She knows by now that nobody in Neverland ever goes home. “Come on - we’ve got secrets to spill.” 

The light ahead grows until finally they emerge into a massive cavern. The stone that surrounds them black onyx - gleaming faintly against the dust that covers the ceiling like a galaxy above them. The space feels boundless, endless like the darkness could go on forever and she’s reminded of their flight here, of the endless sea of stars they’d sailed in on. 

There are four people standing in the center of the chamber on a platform of the same black onyx, all of them with the same sharp, androgynous features as Tiger Lily, all with the same loose-fitting clothes and cropped hair, and all with that same shimmer of living magic glowing faintly in the dark. Tink stands with them, waiting. None of them are any older in appearance than herself, but she knows better by now than to judge age or power by appearance on this island. 

The Constant. 

They follow the rest of the way to the narrow, stone bridge that connects the ledge to the platform on which the others stand. When Emma takes a step to follow Tiger Lily onto the bridge, Killian puts an arm out, halting her in her tracks. Emma watches, heart in her throat as the bridge crumbles after Tiger Lily, stone falling away behind every step until they reach the end and there’s no bridge at all. 

“The Constant keep no secrets,” Killian explains. “The cave can’t compel anything from them. We, on the other hand…” 

“Of course they don’t.” No wonder they wanted to use this place. Easy to make others share their deepest darkest secrets when you’ve got none of your own to divulge and nothing to risk. “What about Tink?” she asks, nodding at the fifth person standing with the Constant.

“The fey have wings.” 

Right. “So how does this work?” 

“From what I remember, you step out onto the edge and call out your secret. If it’s truly your darkest, the cave will echo it back to you.”

“And then we get across?” 

“Aye, easy as that,” Killian attempts a smile, but it comes out as a wince. “I’ll go,” he offers though he looks like he’s dreading this as much as she is. She’s just thankful she doesn’t have to start.  He lets out another sigh, bracing himself and then, “I kissed Emma.” 

Fuck. Her heart drops into her stomach. He’s been a pirate for two hundred years - How the hell can his darkest secret have anything to do with her?

Will smirks. “Kissed? Is that what they’re calling it these days? And I think you’re forgetting that we were all there when she jumped you at Solstice.” His smirk deepens. “And when Emma came back all wet.” If Emma could reach him she’d smack him. 

“I literally walked in on you,” Wendy deadpans.

“I’m not talking about Solstice,” he sighs, not rising to the bait. “It was…” She knows when it was. We’ll keep each other safe, they’d promised. She doesn’t need everyone else to know though. Not when she’s not even sure what any of it meant or what it means now. “It doesn’t matter,” Killian shakes his head. “It was what the kiss - what all of it - exposed.” Fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. “My secret is… I never believed that I’d be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah.” He breathes her name like a prayer and a wound. “To believe that I could find someone else.” His eyes lift to hers and it’s only by sheer force of will that she’s able to stop herself from taking a step back, from running away from the way he’s looking at her. Because she needs to hear this. They all do. If she wants to get across this fucking bridge, if she wants to talk to the fucking Constant, if she wants to get her son back - she needs to hear this secret as much as he needs to tell it. “That is, until I met you.”

She doesn’t know what to say or if she’s supposed to say something, can’t bring herself to look at Wendy or Will or look away from his eyes still burning into hers. And then before she even can do anything, Killian’s voice echoes through the cave, ‘until I met you’ called back to them like a ghost. A rumble follows as a section of the fallen bridge rises back from the depths below them, rock by rock, rebuilding itself. 

Killian lets out a humourless laugh. “So, who’d like to go next?” 

“I will.” Wendy stands with her shoulders straight, like she’s ready for a fight rather than a confession. Emma gets a sinking feeling in her stomach from the way she’s making herself look at Killian, with shame and guilt. He doesn’t look surprised - he looks like he expected this to hurt. “Sometimes… Sometimes I wish you’d never found me. Sometimes I wish you had just kept on walking that day when Pan left me to die.” She winces. “I’ll always be grateful to you for saving my life, for taking me in but…” 

Killian nods when she hesitates, her eyes damp with unshed tears. “Go on, it’s alright.”  

“You trapped me here, Hook. You’re the reason I have to live in this neverending nightmare. Forever. You knew what that water would do to me and I know you couldn’t ask but… you didn’t give me a choice. And I think that if I had one now - if I could have had a say in the next hundred years of my life… I’d rather you’d just let me die because this -” she gestures at herself, at everything around them.  “It’s worse than death. And because of you I’ll never leave.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “I can’t even die if I want to. Not unless Pan decides that’s what he wants. You forced this life on me, Killian, you cursed me to live because it made you feel better and I don’t… I’ll never forgive you for that.” 

Tears stain her cheeks now, jaw tight as she refuses to let any more follow and Emma can see the heartbreak on Killian’s face. “Wendy…” but she shakes her head and he stops the step he’d taken towards her. 

“I’m sorry,” she chokes and he shakes his head this time. Her secret echoes around them like a taunt this time - ‘never forgive you for that’ - and another piece of the bridge rebuilds itself. The silence hangs between them, louder than any echo, until Will steps up. 

“I suppose I should go next - while we’re on the topic of never being forgiven.” He takes his own steadying breath. “I’m dying.” 

Wendy’s face falls. “... what?” It comes out cracked and small and frightened. “What do you mean you’re dying?”

The look Will gives her - there’s so much guilt there, so much pain and self-loathing and love. Emma may not know much about it but she can recognize it now in his eyes, in the way he looks at Wendy. “I lied when I told you I didn’t know what Pan did to my heart. I’ve seen him do it before.”

“One hundred years…”

Will nods, a self-deprecating smile falling flat. “I really hoped that I could keep it from you for a little longer. Neverland will slow it down but… he squeezed a hundred years from my heart. I’ll start aging faster - a lot faster - and pretty soon…”

“How long?” He hesitates a beat longer than Emma can handle - and Wendy… gods, she can’t imagine. “How long?”

“I’ll be dead in a few months - three, maybe four depending on how long I would have lived if I’d aged like a normal person but - I’m so sorry, Wen. I didn’t want to tell you, I -”

Whatever he was going to say and whatever she might have answered  is stolen by the cave calling back to them in Will’s voice, ‘dead in a few months’. Nobody looks as the bridge puts itself back together, all of them too focused on the cruel revelation. He did it for her, Emma realises, for all of them but… he’s dying because of her. Wendy’s losing him because of her. Even Killian looks solemn at the news. 

“Your turn, Emma,” Will chokes out with the palest attempt at levity she’s seen him manage since she met him. “Wouldn’t want to be left out of all the fun, would you?”

She looks out towards the chasm between them and the Constant. She doesn’t even know what she expected to confess, or what she’d hear confessed by those with her, and now, with the truth of Will’s fate hanging in the air, nothing feels like it matters in the grand scheme of things. 

What even is her deepest secret? That she gave up Henry? That she had her heart broken by a selfish man who used her and then left her? That she spent a year of her life in jail? That she’s spent her whole life searching for the parents who left her behind? That between Neal and her parents she doesn’t think she could ever trust someone again - could ever let herself love someone again, or let them love her… That she might be anyway? None of it feels like enough; none of it even feels like a secret anymore, not since Henry found her and brought her to Storybrooke. 

And then, like bile and sick, she feels something being forced up from her throat, words clawing their way to the surface and past her lips of their own volition. She can’t stop them. She doesn’t even know what she’s going to say until they come spilling out. 

“I wish Henry had never come to find me. I wish he’d never brought me to Storybrooke.” The confession leaves her gasping, tears in her eyes as though she had been sick. She wants to be, hearing such a horrible truth being spoken out loud. Killian looks at her with sympathy, but she turns away from it. And once it’s started, she can’t stop it. “I never wanted to be a mother. I gave him away because I knew he’d be better off without me - but also because I knew I’d be better off without him. He’s a beautiful, amazing kid and I love him more than anything… but I never asked for this. Every day since he showed up at my door I’ve been terrified - every minute of every day. Those few minutes in the Fae forest when I couldn’t remember him were the most peaceful I’ve felt in months and when it all came flooding back it just reminded me of how much simpler my life was before I had to be anything to anyone. I don’t want to lose him. But I never wanted to find him either.” 

The bridge rebuilds itself, completing the path across as the worst thing she’s ever said, ‘never wanted to find him’,  is echoed back to her cruelly. She feels drained, numb, and she wonders if the others are feeling this horrible emptiness too. She looks out at where the Constant wait. If this is their idea of having them prove their allegiance, they better be ready to give theirs in return.

“Come on, Swan,” Killian tells her, leading her across the bridge. None of them say a word, Will and Killian both casting glances at Wendy who won’t look up from her feet, and the silence follows them the whole way across. 

“That sounded rough,” Tink comments when they reach the platform, the five Constant talking in harsh whispers in a language she doesn’t recognize. 

“How lucky of you to have missed it then,” Will snips. He must be feeling worse than Emma realized.

There’s an argument starting, still in that foreign language, but she can tell just the same. Every few words there’s a glimpse of something that feels familiar, a syllable from another language she’s heard, a word that could be French or Spanish, a glimpse of English, not one language but many - like every language spoken at once.

“This meeting has been a topic of some controversy,” Killian whispers. “But I think Tiger Lily might be on our side.” 

“You can understand them?” 

He shrugs. “One picks up a few things after two centuries.”

There’s a small scoff from Tink. “Yeah, all that pillow talk was really educational.”

Killian ignores the quip. “They’re the keepers of the last of the forgotten history of the old Neverland.” He nods at each as he names them. “That’s Philodendron, Halcyon, Alder, Jacaranda, and you know Tiger Lily.

“Tiger Lily is one of them?” 

“Tiger Lily was the oldest Constant to survive the massacre. They were just shy of a century when Pan took over.”

“A century?”

“The Constant are eternal, love. A century is nothing.” 

The Constant have gone silent, a tense, begrudging conclusion to their argument that Emma can feel even if she doesn’t know the words. 

Finally, Tiger Lily speaks. “Tinkerbell tells us you wish to unearth the secrets of the island - secrets that were buried to keep us safe.”

“Secrets that could return the island to the way it once was if you ally with us against Pan,” Killian counters. 

“If our knowledge could have defeated the boy,” Alder interjects, “we would have done so a millenia ago when he first laid waste to this island.” 

“Maybe your knowledge alone couldn’t defeat him, but we have the Lorelei on our side, and the fae,” Wendy adds, gesturing at Tink. 

Alder scoffs. “You have one fairy. One who’s been without magic for almost five hundred years, who’s magic was corrupted by the very demon you seek to destroy. Our magic was born from the innocence and dreams of children, the purest light magic there is, and even it was snuffed out by Pan’s darkness. What chance have you with a weakened fairy and the duplicitous sirens?” 

“We have more than that,” Tink interjects, bitterness and insult obvious in the bite of her words. “We have her.” It takes Emma a moment to realize that she’s the one being gestured at and now every set of eyes is on her. 

“Me?” 

“Her?” Wendy frowns. 

“You can’t honestly tell me you haven’t noticed. She practically reeks of magic. It’s spilling out of every pore. I clocked it as soon as she got here.” 

“I don’t have magic.” The Constant continue to stare, questioning, doubting. “I don’t. Don’t you think if I did I’d have used it by now to get Henry back?” 

“Not if you weren’t aware of it, love,” Killian offers gently.

“Okay but I’m not some fairytale character; I’m from Boston - the land without magic. I don’t have any power.” 

“Oh for…” Tink swears under her breath, crossing the room and grabbing Emma’s wrist. Faster than she can stop her, the fairy pulls a small blade from the complicated twist of pins and leather that keeps her mass of blonde hair piled on top of her head, ivory handle embellished with gold runes, and slashes it across Emma’s palm. 

“Ow! What the hell!” Emma shouts, yanking her hand away. That fucking hurt. Tinkerbelle doesn’t resist, the rest of their small crew moving to intervene, but all at once, they freeze. Emma follows their gazes to her hand, clutched tightly in a fist to her chest and her breath catches. There’s light seeping through the cracks in her fingers, golden and swirling like smoke, shimmering like the magic that flows over the Constant’s skin. 

Jacaranda reaches a hand out to her, palm upturned in a request and Emma looks to the others before carefully placing her hand in theirs. Carefully, the Constant unfurls her fingers, examining the light that shines from her wound with a careful touch. Their eyes go wide. “This is our magic,” they say, voice soft and tinged with awe. “Ours and… something else.” 

“May I?” Philodendron asks, extending their own hand. Emma nods, even as the urge to refuse shouts at her. You don’t have magic. You’re not magic. You’re a goddamn bail bonds person from Boston, not a fairytale character. Philodendron looks at her after taking a moment to examine the wound themselves. “This is light magic,” they confirm. “It’s raw and untapped but powerful, more powerful than anything I’ve seen since before Pan’s time.” They twist her hand a bit, trying to look closer, to read something in whatever they see that Emma can’t. “But this isn’t born of belief and dreams as ours is, it's the product of something else… of -”

“True love,” Emma breathes out, so low she doesn’t mean for anyone to hear it. Henry had said that hadn’t he? That she was supposed to be the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, that she was supposed to be the Saviour. 

“Yes, that’s it,” Philodendron nods slowly. “You were right, Tinkerbelle. This is more powerful magic than we anticipated.” 

“Can you use it?” Emma asks, still not believing it really, but if it means they’ll help her get her kid back, she doesn’t care what she has to do. 

“That depends,” Halcyon takes a step forward. “Can you wield it?” 

“No, I…” she doesn’t even know how this is possible. 

“I can.” They all turn to Tink, Emma cradling her hand to her chest once more. “If you tell me what we need to do, I can guide her. But you’ll have to let me.” The last bit is directed at her and she hesitates… Tink hasn’t exactly made a secret of the fact that she’s not a fan of hers, and she just slashed her damn hand open… Trust already isn’t her strong suit to begin with. “I’m not going to steal it,” Tink snaps and looks genuinely offended and Emma remembers that she knows what it is to have her power taken from her. 

“I know you won’t. I just… what if it doesn’t work?” How powerful could this magic be? She’s not anything special, she never has been. Why would this be any different? 

“Then I guess you don’t get your kid back.” 

“Tink,” Killian warns but Emma can’t help but appreciate the fairy’s bluntness. 

“What do we need to do?” 

“This cavern, ” TigerLily starts, taking a knee and placing a hand reverently on the stone, “used to be a sacred place. It held all of the secrets of Neverland, and the dreams of children who visited - the purest and most honest of truths of all - fueled the island as it did our magic. This was its source - the source of everything. 

“But then Pan tainted this cave with his twisted version of secrets as power, as something to be wielded, and forced us to sacrifice the last of the light magic that still breathed life into Neverland, the cavern shielded itself from his darkness. Now it echoes truths rather than accept ones taken maliciously. This place… has seen nothing but darkness for centuries. It has not been sleeping, but fighting, the last of the resistance against Pan right under his nose, keeping the darkness at bay and it has hardened. We need to remind it what the light looks like.” 

“It can have mine. Whatever this is. If it can help and if this place can defeat Pan it can have all of it.” 

Tiger Lily smiles kindly. “Not all of it. It would never snuff out your light. But even the slightest kindling can spark an inferno and with it you can breathe magic back into the island.” 

“How?” 

They nod to Tink who retrieves her knife again, slashing her own palm this time, the light that glows from her wound a shimmering green, and holds her hand out to Emma. Heat burns across her skin when she takes Tink’s offered hand, the light between them growing, shining and mixing. Tink places her other hand on Tiger Lily’s shoulder and the Constant flattens both their palms against the stone beneath them. After a moment, they look to Emma and she knows she’s doing it wrong. She’s not doing anything but she’s doing it wrong. 

“I’m sorry.”

Tiger Lily shakes their head, their smile not malicious, but understanding. 

“I have met so many lost boys and girls on this island. So many broken, hardened children lead here by fear and hurt and neglect, so afraid to trust, to love, to admit or even accept what they want, what they desire more than anything - what has been robbed of them. This place is born of dreams and truths and you, dear Swan, strong Swan, brave Swan… frightened Swan, have locked yourself away from both.” 

“But I already told this place my darkest secret.” But she doesn’t need Tiger Lily to tell her - this place echoes darkness, resists darkness. That secret was Pan’s magic - not Neverland’s. 

“What do you dream of, Emma? What truths do you keep from yourself?” Emma opens her mouth to speak but Tiger Lily holds up a hand. “Do not tell them to me. Tell them to the lost girl. Unburden her.” 

What does she dream of? Things she can’t have, things she’s never had, things that were taken away. She wants to find her parents, that’s no secret though, she’s always known that. She wants them to have never given her up in the first place. She wanted a family, the one she could have had with Henry and Neal if he hadn’t turned out to be the vile person he was, the life that she’d had just a glimpse of after one missed period, before everything went to shit. She doesn’t want that anymore. She hasn’t let herself want any of it since then, not love, not family, not hope… 

Her skin begins to warm, something flaring beneath the surface. Liar. She doesn’t know if it’s the cave or herself or her magic but it echoes through her like her secret against the walls. Tiger Lily accused her of locking herself away from her dreams, from her truths, but can they even still be truths if they’ve been silenced and stomped down for decades? 

She thinks of the lost girl she was, abandoned, a runaway on the street, burning the last of her childhood, of stupid fairytales and stories to keep warm in a world that was only ever cold. What had that girl wanted? Powerless, lost, alone. That girl who felt like nothing, who meant nothing to anyone, who had never mattered and never would, who had only herself to take care of her. She wanted to matter - to someone, to herself, she wanted people to matter to her, to be able to let them. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. Even as she pushed away every foster parent, every friend, every lover as she grew older, she didn’t want - she doesn’t want - to have to do it alone. 

That’s what she dreams of, what she refuses to admit that she dreams of. That for all of her rightly earned distrust of everyone, for all of her caution and her fear of abandonment, of love and hope, she wants to be able to let them in, let them matter. She wants to believe that she could have that happily ever after that she’s scorned all her life. 

Images flash in her mind as the heat builds, her body tingling, a faint glimmer of light shining against her shut eyelids. Henry smiling in her doorway in Boston, Mary Margaret offering her a home, Killian bringing her to Neverland, Wendy helping her hide from Pan, Will sacrificing himself for her, Killian nearly sacrificing Milah’s name - sacrificing his memories, all of them banding together to help her save her kid, even Tink now, helping her to wield magic she doesn’t understand. 

She’s not alone. She’s not in this alone. For the first time in her life she has people she can count on. People she can trust. She thinks of the smile Henry gave her when she let him know she wasn’t going to leave Storybrooke even though she could, of Mary Margaret’s pep talks, of shared hot chocolate and drinks and advice in their apartment, of Killian in that dank brig after one of the worst hours of her life - perhaps I would - of his words whispered in the quiet darkness of his cabin - I’m here. You don’t have to ask - of his confession echoing around them - until I met you. She does matter to people. She’s not nothing. She was never nothing. She matters and she has people who matter to her. 

Her whole body alights, the blood in her veins not blood anymore but something else, something powerful and she can feel it surging beneath her skin, pulled by a force as it rushes through her and towards that opening in her palm. The white of her light overtakes the green and Tink’s body jerks like the surge of magic is as jarring to her as it is for Emma. Tiger Lily gasps, the ground beneath them starting to glow, tendrils of golden light snaking towards them across the stone like rivulets. Their body starts to shimmer, the dusting of gold shining brighter until their skin is swallowed by it completely. 

Emma can feel sweat beading on her skin, the salt mixing with the tears she hadn’t realized she’d been crying. She doesn’t know how much longer she can keep this up, the power coursing through her overwhelming. Tink’s hand is shaking in hers, both their palms damp and slippery and white knuckled and she can’t imagine how much more effort the fairy is putting in as the one actually channeling all of this. 

“There’s so much,” Tiger Lily says in awe. “We’ve forgotten so much.” Their eyes are glowing with the same gold that covers their skin, their mouth pulling into a smile even as tears roll down their cheeks. 

“I can’t -” Tink starts, but doesn’t let Emma release her hand when she tries to stop.

There’s another moment, the light engulfing the Constant almost completely, so bright Emma has to look away, before finally, suddenly, it stops. The three of them slump against the ground with a gasp of exhaustion. Emma doesn’t even turn when she feels hands on her shoulders, helping her to sit up, she knows it’s him. Wendy is at Tink’s side helping to support her as well as the Constant circle around Tiger Lily, all of them holding one another in a moment that feels beautiful and private as joy and heartbreak play over their faces. 

“Can you. Stop him?” Tink pants out. 

“I… I think so. There’s just - there’s so much. I need time to sort through it all.” 

“We don’t. Have. Time.”

“All of the secrets of Neverland, millennia’s worth, have just been poured into my mind. It will take me more than a few minutes to understand it all and find what will help us.” 

“How much time?” Emma asks. Henry’s already been here too long - too long without knowing that she’s here, that she’s coming for him. 

“I don’t… give me a few nights at least. Come back in three days. That should give me time to make sense of what is needed at least.” Their eyes are far away, like they’re not seeing the cavern around them but something far bigger and far more extraordinary.  

Emma nods. “Three days?” 

“Three days. And then we’ll rid this island of its false king forever.”

***********

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from my tag list!

@kmomof4 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly  @undercaffinatednightmare @jennjenn615 @dramioneswan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @batana54 @lfh1226-linda @csalltheway @xsajx @xarandomdreamx @onceratheart18 @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway @zaharadessert @thejollyroger-writer @ultraluckycatnd @justanother-unluckysoul @spartanguard @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @wefoundloveunderthelight @sailtoafarawayland @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @superchocovian @snowbellewells @xellewoods @sals86 @karlyfr13s  @ouatpost @skairipakomtrikru @lonelyspectator12   @anmylica   @alexa-fangirl-forever @inspiredbystardust @marcella2727 @paradiselady19 @koryandr @killiansprincss @goforlaunchcee

[pandion-aves]

Player Appreciation Week 2025 Day 2: Soulmates

Player hated every little bit of the idea of soulmates. He couldn’t even keep a friend for more than a few months, how would he deal with a soulmate? That is, until he realized platonic soulmates exist.

I know I'm a day late, I just wanted to finish the art! It's a Double Life (Life Series SMP) inspired soulmates au, and it's platonic soulmates!! We're All Soulbound To Another Who Lets Our Hearts Fall Down https://archiveofourown.org/works/64179109 ignore that I put posters from random things I like + a photo of my dog in Player's background

[myfearless-love]

Down the Primrose Path (Chapter 6/? - "margin of error: desire")

Chapters: 6/? — "margin of error: desire"

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Relationship: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Characters: Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Geppetto | Marco (Once Upon a Time), Alice Jones | Tilly, Elsa (Once Upon a Time)

Additional Tags: Captain Swan - Freeform, Captain Swan Regency, There Was Only One Bed. Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Duke Killian Jones, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Scarred Killian Jones, Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Emma Swan

Summary:

Desperate times demand bold actions, and Emma Swan is about to pull off the ultimate gamble: faking an engagement to the elusive Duke of Hookshire to rescue her family from financial ruin. Her plan seems foolproof—until Killian Jones, London's most reclusive and mysterious nobleman, learns of his sudden engagement.

Once a celebrated figure of society, a tragedy drove Killian into self-imposed exile. Now, intrigued by the daring woman claiming to be his fiancée, he steps back into the spotlight, determined to turn the tables.

In a game where hearts are on the line, can a fabricated love affair turn real, or will the truth shatter more than just their reputations?

READ HERE: AO3

Preview:

As always, a huge thanks to my wonderful beta, @xarandomdreamx, for correcting my mistakes and encouraging me with her thoughtful comments ❤️

Tagging some folks who might be interested:

@anmylica @elfiola @zaharadessert @gingerchangeling @undercaffinatednightmare

@jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @mie779

@winterbaby89 @tiganasummertree @stahlop @rylieblu @ultraluckycatnd

@eddisfargo @booksteaandtoomuchtv @laianely @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke

@beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @captainswan-kellie @veryverynotgoodwrites @lfh1226-linda

@snowbellewells @caught-in-the-filter @shady-swan-jones @bluewildcatfanatic @fairytalepetzkle

(Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)

[searchingwardrobes]

Scarborough Fair 9/?

Yes, it's true. You aren't dreaming. I am finally updating this long-neglected fic! Not only that, but I will be finishing it. As a matter of fact, you will have an update every day this week. If anyone still cares, that is, lol. I know the fandom isn't what it once was. However, I suddenly got inspired again to finish this. So whether or not anyone reads it, it's getting the resolution it deserves. Why did I neglect it for so long? Writer's block. I just haven't written hardly a thing in at least a year, probably longer. So when I laid awake, unable to sleep because I was finishing this fic in my head, I was ecstatic. That's why I'm finishing it whether anyone reads it or not. Of course, if you are still reading it, may I politely suggest commenting? It definitely feeds the muse!

Rest assured, there will be an update tomorrow. I don't have much going on tomorrow, and I actually planned more in this chapter originally. So be looking out for that!

Much thanks to the two biggest fans of this fic, Krystal @kmomof4 and Marta @snowbellewells - re-reading your reblogs of this fic helped kick me back into high gear!

And as an extra treat, here is a picture of Emma's wedding dress in this chapter:

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Emma Swan has had a charmed life, despite being a foster child. She has a wonderful family who loves her, and the best friends in the world. The only thing that mars her idyllic existence is her birth mother: a homeless woman who mutters nonsensical rhymes and claims to be Snow White. One fateful night, however, Emma’s world is shattered. Perhaps her mother’s rhymes aren’t nonsense after all.

Rated: M for date rape, dubious consent, teen pregnancy, and sexy times (the good kind!)

Words: Over 1k in this chapter

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight

Also on Ao3

Tagging:  (let me know if you wish to be removed or added):  @snowbellewells @teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thisonesatellite @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @ohmakemeahercules @tiganasummertree @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressay

Liam and Ingrid, unsurprisingly, had concerns when they came home to Emma and Killian announcing their engagement. Anna, unsurprisingly, was bouncing up and down with joy. 

“Are you sure you’re proposing for the right reasons?” Was their main question for Killian.

“Well, the main reason is I love her,” he told them with conviction, “but it’s also the timing. She needs me. I know deep in my bones I was always meant to be her husband, so if she needs me now, why wait?”

“Are you sure you aren’t just accepting out of fear? Because it’s safe?” Was their main question for Emma.

Emma’s answer was delivered with just as much conviction. “It isn’t just that I feel safe with Killian; I love him. Shouldn’t love feel safe, anyway? And I feel the same way he does. If we waited five more years, or ten, or twenty, nothing would change. We’re meant to be together.”

Liam and Ingrid couldn’t pretend to be surprised. Both of them had noticed a soulmate type of connection between Emma and Killian for a long time. They also couldn’t deny the logic of the decision when it came to Emma’s security and the baby’s. There was only one other concern.

“What about school?”

“I can finish high school married just as well as I can single,” Emma told them with a shrug, and Killian vowed he wouldn’t get in the way of her education. 

“But Boston College, Killian?”

He squared his shoulders and looked his brother dead in the eyes. “I won’t be returning. I’ve already told my boss he can count on me full time with the construction company. He’s promoting me to a foreman position, so I can easily support Emma. When the baby’s a little older, I can enroll at Red Oak and get my degree there.” 

Liam wanted to argue, but there really wasn’t anything wrong with Killian’s plan. Lots of people worked a year or two, or longer, before getting a degree. He wanted to say that Boston College was a lot more prestigious than Red Oak, but he knew full well it was a pretty weak argument. Killian would save a lot of money by transferring to Red Oak, not to mention gaining job experience. He let out a long breath and shared a meaningful look with his wife. 

“Well okay, then,” she said, her signature grin filling her face, “let’s plan a wedding!”

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

A date was set for mid-August, giving Emma two weeks between the wedding and the first day of her senior year. Unfortunately, Elsa wouldn’t be back from her study abroad program in time for the ceremony. It also gave them only three weeks to throw a wedding together. Thankfully, neither Emma nor Killian were big on grand ceremonies. 

The first item on Ingrid’s checklist was the venue. The bride and groom solved that easily: their own living room. Anna and Ingrid - and Elsa via Zoom - tried to protest that it was too small, but Emma just shrugged them off. 

“We can just pull out all the furniture and line up folding chairs. It’s not like we’re inviting that many people.”

Ingrid was concerned that the second item, the dress, would be impossible. Fate, however, seemed to be in their favor. Emma found a vintage dress that suited her personality perfectly at a thrift store downtown. She hadn’t even been dress shopping that day. Ingrid had taken her for ice cream after one of her prenatal appointments, and they had decided to stroll around the square with their ice cream cones. They were simply walking along the sidewalk, licking scoops of chocolate ice cream, and suddenly, there it was, displayed in a window. 

Emma wasn’t even sure it was meant to be a wedding dress, but it didn’t really matter. It was a cream colored, empire-wasted, sleeveless dress with one tier on the bottom of the long skirt. The fabric had a delicate floral pattern in light gold that shimmered when Emma moved. The top was a halter, which flattered Emma’s fuller bust due to her pregnancy. The empire waist also masked her growing baby bump and provided plenty of room in case she gained more in the next few weeks. When she tried it on, Ingrid started to cry. 

An employee stopped to admire Emma. “We just got that in yesterday,” she told her. “A woman told us it was her mother’s prom dress in 1976.”

Emma’s mouth fell open as she locked eyes with Ingrid. Her foster mother pressed her hands to her mouth and let out a happy squeak. 

“It’s fate, Emma,” she told her, and the two embraced. 

They left the store with the dress lovingly wrapped in its original box, having paid a whopping thirty-five dollars and seventy-five cents. 

 Every single item on Ingrid’s list was checked off with simple solutions by the bride and groom:

Killian’s tux? Well, if Emma was wearing a 70s prom dress from a thrift shop, Killian would find a thrift store suit, too.

The food? A potluck lunch would do just fine. 

The cake? The ones at the grocery store would do. As George Banks said in Father of the Bride, a cake is just flour, eggs, and sugar, right? Or something. 

The only thing Killian was concerned about was a place to live. Sure, he knew his brother and Ingrid would never kick them out, and there was at least a modicum of privacy in his attic suite. Still, it would be a little awkward, for one. More than that, however, was Killian’s pride. If he was really providing for Emma and the baby, he should be able to put a roof over their heads. 

His pride wouldn’t even allow him to go to his own brother with his concerns. Yet, Liam somehow knew anyway. Which was why he greeted Killian at the door one evening, a week and a half before the wedding, with a huge grin on his face and a slip of paper in his hand with an address on it. 

After hearing what Liam had to say, Killian raced eagerly up the stairs to Emma’s room with the good news. He came to a sudden stop in Emma’s open doorway, the smile falling from his face. She was sitting atop her bed, hugging a pillow, hastily wiping tears from her cheeks. Her mother’s journal rested atop the quilt beside her. 

“Hey,” Killian said softly as he entered the room, “what’s wrong?”

Emma slid over to make space for him on the bed, still trying to wipe the traces of tears from her cheeks. Killian picked up her mother’s journal as he made himself comfortable against the throw pillows along the headboard. Emma lifted his arm, put it around her shoulders, and tucked herself against him. 

“Is it the curse?”

She shook her head. “It’s my mom,” she told him softly.

He waited, rubbing her arm gently, and pressing his lips to the top of her head. Emma let out a shaky sigh before continuing.

“I wish I knew where she was. I’m getting married, and she doesn’t even know.”

Killian nodded but said nothing. Emma lifted her head just enough to look up at him. 

“Is it crazy that I wish she could be there?”

“Of course not. She’s your mother.”

“My insane, homeless, unpredictable mother who threw glass bottles at my head.”

Killian chuckled lightly. “True,” he tapped the green, cloth-covered notebook resting on the bedspread, “but I think reading her journal has given you a glimpse of the woman she was before. I think it’s made you realize, maybe for the first time, what you’ve lost.”

“That makes sense. I think I’m also worried that we haven’t heard from her in so long.”

Killian didn’t know what to say to ease her worries, so he cupped her face in his hand, tipped her chin up, and covered her lips with his. The kiss started gentle, intended simply to comfort, but then she responded so fervently and eagerly, that he lost himself. He shifted so she was beneath him, which caused a mewling sound to pass her lips that drove him wild. Emma slid her hand beneath his t-shirt, sending shivers up his spine as her fingers caressed his lower back. His hand grasped her waist, and his thumb slipped beneath the hem of her shirt. At the simple contact, Emma arched into him, and he began to trail kisses along her jawline. With one hand still on his back, her other hand threaded through his hair. She gasped when his lips trailed to the sensitive skin behind her ear, and something about the sound snapped him out of his haze of desire.

Killian pulled away abruptly and sat up, putting some distance between them. Emma still lay there on the bed, her face flushed, her hair splayed out on the pillows beneath her, a look of confusion marring her brow. 

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he said thickly, fixing his own mussed hair with shaking hands. 

“What for?” Emma asked indignantly, sitting up beside him. “We’re engaged.”

He turned to her and took her face gently in both hands. “I know. I love you, Emma, and I plan to cherish you. You deserve that. After everything you’ve been through, I’m not going to take you like this, hurried and frantic, thinking in the back of our minds that someone could interrupt us at any moment.”

Emma glanced sheepishly at the still open door and giggled. “Then close the door next time.”

He laughed with her and pulled her to him, holding her gently. He ran his fingers through her slightly tangled hair. 

“I want to make love to you. Slowly. Thoroughly.”

Emma shivered in his arms. “Are you trying to torture me on purpose?”

He laughed again. “I feel a bit tortured, myself, truth be told. But we only have a week and a half. Then we’ll have the time and the privacy we deserve.”

“Time maybe. But privacy?”

Killian pulled the forgotten slip of paper from his pocket. “Yes, privacy.”

Emma snatched it from his hand, looking at it curiously as she settled in the middle of the bed with her legs crossed. “An address?”

“Our address,” he told her, grinning broadly.

“For real?” Emma’s eyes widened.

“For real.”

Emma squealed and threw her arms around his neck. He laughed as she peppered kisses all over his face. 

“How?” she finally asked. 

“There’s a professor of archaeology taking a sabbatical to do a dig in Greece. He told Liam he was looking for someone to take care of his house while he’s gone. So it’s ours. For free.”

“For free?”

Killian shrugged. “Well, there are also some maintenance things on the house I’m agreeing to do for him free of charge, but basically.”

Emma gazed in shock and happiness at the paper in her hands. “It’s too good to be true.”

“It’s fate.”

Emma’s eyes shone with happy tears as she looked back up at him. “It really is.”

Killian was ready to throw caution to the wind and press Emma back down into the pillows when Ingrid appeared in the doorway. He was worried what she would say, seeing him on Emma’s bed, but Ingrid seemed too ecstatic to notice. 

“We’ve found her!” she told them. 

“Who?” Emma asked. 

“Your mom!”

[jrob64]

A Love/Hate Relationship - a CS modern AU one-shot

I wrote this story because I was in need of fluff, humor and hurt/comfort after the painful experience of losing two dogs in less than a year. Zeke, who was in my story Sowing Seeds of Trust, died of cancer last June. Two months later, we adopted Winston, who was the main character in Pet for Rent. Somehow, he swallowed part of a brush (while he wasn't at home) which perforated his intestines and caused internal bleeding. He died May 23. Writing my favorite trope for my favorite couple is therapeutic for me as I deal with my heartbreak.

Many thanks to @kmomof4 and @hookedmom.

Summary: Killian Jones' neighbor, Emma Swan, has hated him since the first day they met. When she finds out he came down with the flu and attempts to nurse him back to health, he's more than a little confused.

Rating: T

Words: 2582

Also posted to ffn and Ao3

Story is under the cut

*********

Killian Jones buried his face in a pillow and pulled it up over his head in an attempt to stop the incessant pounding. After several painful moments, he realized the noise wasn’t in his head, but was coming from the front door of his apartment.

Groaning, he tossed back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting with his head in his hands for a short while. When he finally got to his feet, he swayed dizzily and stumbled into the door frame, leaning against it to try to regain his balance.

He eventually made his way across the living room, unlocked the deadbolt and threw the door open. “What?” he demanded loudly, regretting it immediately when a sharp pain shot behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut before even registering who was on the other side of the door.

“Jones, how many times do I have to tell you to…Wow! You look like hell.”

Killian cracked his eyes open enough to see his neighbor from across the hall, Emma Swan. Infuriating to the highest degree and just as beautiful, she was the last person he wanted to see while he was in his current state. The two of them had a love/hate relationship…minus the love.

They had gotten off on the wrong foot when he moved in a little over a year ago. Unaware that she was a police officer who worked the night shift, he woke her up shouting orders at the movers. Emma Swan was not a morning person, especially after working an eight hour shift on the streets of Boston, and she informed him of it in no uncertain terms.

After that day, every interaction between them was filled with tension and snarkiness. Killian wished they could go back to when they met and start over again, because he knew she was basing her hatred of him on that first impression. In all honesty, he was quite intrigued by the fierce blonde and would like to know if there was a sweet or funny side of her she kept hidden very deep inside. Very, very deep.

Now she was here, standing at his door, scrutinizing him like a bug squashed on the bottom of her shoe. “Hangover?” she smirked.

He sighed. “I have the flu, Swan. It’s been going around at the office and I wasn’t lucky enough to avoid it. Now, if you’re done yelling at me, is there something I can help you with? If not, I’d really like to go back to bed.”

She took a step forward and unexpectedly pressed her palm to his forehead, then both hands to his unshaven cheeks. “You’ve got a fever.”

“Usually accompanies the flu. Now if you’ll…”

“Do you have medicine?”

“No, I…”

“Have you eaten? Are you drinking plenty of fluids?”

“I haven’t…”

“How long have you had it? Have you seen a doctor?”

Killian rested his pounding head against the door. “Must you use your interrogation techniques on me? I haven’t committed a crime, you know.”

“I’m trying to help,” she said, clearly offended.

“I could use less help and more sleep,” he grumbled.

“Yes, good,” she said, pushing past him into his apartment. “Go back to bed and I’ll get you something to drink. Do you want water, juice or…”

“More questions, Swan? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“All you have to drink is water, Dr. Pepper Zero and beer?” she asked, peering into his refrigerator. Closing it, she straightened up and began opening cupboards. “Do you have tea bags? British people like to drink tea, don’t they?”

He knew it would hurt his head to roll his eyes, so he simply threw up his hands and trudged off to his bedroom. Behind him, he could hear Emma celebrating the fact that she’d located the tea bags.

He had just gotten back to sleep, when he was shaken awake. “What now?” he growled, flopping onto his back.

“I made some tea and found Advil in your medicine cabinet. You need to drink something and get these pills in you.”

He raised his head and blinked up at her blearily. “You went through my medicine cabinet?”

“Yeah. Did you know condoms have an expiration date? The ones you have in there expired almost two years ago. Better not use them, because they’re likely to break.”

“Ugh,” he groaned, letting his head drop back down on his pillow. “Please just let me die.”

“You aren’t gonna die from the flu, Jones.”

“I meant from embarrassment,” he muttered under his breath.

“Sit up,” she commanded, sliding her arm under his pillow and pushing until he did as he was told.

First, she handed him a bottle of water. After glaring at her for several seconds, he finally took it, then swiped the two pills she held in her other palm. He popped them into his mouth and downed them with the water.

“Happy now?” he asked.

“Deliriously,” she quipped. “Now drink your tea.”

He accepted the mug she offered him and held it to his lips. Cautiously taking a sip, he grimaced and spit it back into the cup. “Did you heat the water at all? It’s barely warm! And how bloody much sugar did you put in it?”

“Well, I didn’t want you to burn your mouth,” she explained haughtily. “And I put in the same amount of sugar as I put in my coffee. Four spoonfuls.”

“Four?” he questioned. “Are you trying to kill me, or just give me diabetes?”

“You’re not a very good patient, Jones. You could at least be grateful that I’m helping you.”

“If you recall, I didn’t ask for your help.”

She ignored him, fluffing his pillow and pushing at his chest to get him to lay back down. “I found a can of chicken noodle soup in your cupboard. I’m going to heat it up.”

“Don’t add any sugar to it,” he groused, as she walked out of the bedroom, taking the tepid cup of tea with her.

“I heard that,” she threw over her shoulder.

“Of course she heard that, but didn’t hear when I told her to leave me alone,” he mumbled into his pillow. He tossed and turned, knowing that if he went to sleep, the maddening woman would just wake him up again.

Sure enough, she was back at his bedside within ten minutes, carefully carrying a plate containing a steaming bowl of soup and a small stack of saltine crackers. He sat up before she could order him to, and took the plate from her.

“You didn’t add anything to this, did you?” he asked.

“Nope, I just heated it up,” she assured him.

He dipped the spoon into the soup, blew on it and put it in his mouth, then promptly choked and sputtered. “Bloody hell, Swan! Didn’t you add any water to this?”

“Why would I add water?” she asked, a confused frown forming on her face.

“Because Campbell’s soup is condensed. It’s too salty this way. Adding extra water dilutes it enough that it tastes like soup is supposed to taste, rather than tasting like…like the ocean. Haven’t you ever made soup from a can before?”

“Sure,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest petulantly. “I make Progresso soup all the time, but I never add water to it.”

“Progresso soup isn’t condensed. This is.” He took the stack of crackers, then thrust the plate back towards her. “I’ll just eat these, thanks very much. Now that you’ve tended to me, you can leave me in peace.”

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” she asked.

Was that concern he saw on her face? Surely not. Emma Swan would never be concerned about him. It would be more realistic if she were to try to poison him. Perhaps he should have been more careful eating and drinking what she gave him.

Shaking his head slightly to try to clear those thoughts, he said gruffly, “Yes, I’m sure. It’s not like you really helped anyway.”

This time, he thought he saw a flash of hurt cross her face, before she turned and left the room. Soon he heard the front door close.

He couldn’t have really seen Emma Swan look concerned and hurt, could he? Great. Now he was going to have to add hallucinations to his list of symptoms.

He ate the crackers, then lay down and turned onto his side, tugging the blanket up around his shoulders. He was achy and feverish, but it was the guilt over how he treated his apparently well-meaning neighbor that kept him from falling asleep.

*********

Three days later, after his fever had been broken for twenty-four hours, Killian went back to work. Upon returning home at the end of the day and getting his keys out to unlock his apartment, the door across the hall opened and Emma stepped out.

“Oh, hey Jones. Looks like you recovered, no thanks to me.”

Killian rubbed his finger behind his ear. “I owe you an apology, Swan. I was rude and should have never said what I did.”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s no big deal. I guess I’ll never be a Florence Nightingale.” Turning on her heel, she muttered, “See ya around.”

“Swan…Emma, wait,” he called out, hurrying after her.

She turned around. “What?” she huffed.

“I, uh, I truly am sorry. It was very kind of you to try to help me, but…”

“But what?”

“But why did you do that? I mean, given the fact you hate me…”

“I don’t hate you,” she interrupted.

“Really? You could have fooled me.”

Emma stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and looked down at the floor for several long moments. When she finally looked up, he was shocked to see the vulnerability on her face.

“Look… I’m not good with…people,” she said softly. “And I’m also not good at admitting when I’m wrong.”

She paused and he waited patiently, wondering where she was going with this.

“None of the people I know would be concerned enough to check on me if I called in sick to work. You’ve lived here long enough for me to realize that…that you don’t seem to have anyone like that, either. I never see anyone coming or going on a regular basis - besides the pizza delivery guy, but I don’t think he counts.”

Killian chuckled dryly. “You’re very observant, Swan.” He paused for a moment, debating whether he should open up to her as she was to him. “And you’re also correct,” he added finally. “I moved here from England when I was transferred for my job, and I don’t have any close friends yet.”

She nodded. “I figured it was something like that. The day you moved in, I was…well, to put it bluntly, I was a bitch. And, as I said, I’m not good at apologizing, so I just let things go on being…uncomfortable. When I saw that you were sick the other day, I thought it was my chance to make things better between us, but I screwed that up, too. I just…I guess I wanted to let you know that you didn’t have to be alone while you were suffering - that there was someone who cared. I…I’m sorry I made things worse.”

“You didn’t make things worse,” he assured her. “I appreciate the effort. Actually, if you think about it, it was really quite comical.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“And they do say laughter is the best medicine, so your failed attempts at helping are probably what cured me so quickly.”

Seeing the grin on his face, the corners of her own mouth turned up a bit. “You’re an idiot, Jones.”

He took a step closer. “How about if we start over, Emma? It would be nice to have a friend living across the hall.”

She eyed him, chewing her lip in contemplation. Then she held her hand out to him. “Hi, I’m Emma Swan. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

He reached forward to give her hand a firm shake. “Killian Jones. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan.”

She smiled and he was amazed at how it transformed her already lovely face. They stood awkwardly for several moments, until Killian said, “Well, I should let you go. Were you on your way to work?”

“Oh, uh, no. I was just going to get something to eat.”

He rubbed his hand along his jaw, dropping his eyes as he asked, “Would you, um…would you like some company?” Looking back up, he saw her eyes widen and hurried to add, “Just as a friend. As you well know, I don’t have much to eat in my apartment.”

She snorted out a laugh. “You still have more than I do at my place.” Turning away from him once again, she said, “If you’re sure, you’re welcome to join me. I was just gonna go to the diner around the corner. Tonight’s special is grilled cheese and onion rings.”

“Ah, greasy diner food,” he said, beginning to follow her. “You do know if you keep eating that stuff, your arteries are going to be filled with sludge.”

She chose to ignore him as she started down the stairs. “They have the best hot chocolate, too.”

“How much sugar do you add to it?” he grinned.

She glared at him over her shoulder. “No sugar, just cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon in hot chocolate? Sounds…interesting.”

She stopped on the landing and turned to look at him. “If you’re gonna make fun of my preferences for food and drink, you’re uninvited.”

Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he said, “I meant no offense, Swan. Perhaps I’ll even give your…unique concoction a try.”

That meal led to another, and many more. Soon they added regular coffee dates. Gradually, at Killian’s urging, Emma tried and eventually acquired a taste for black coffee, no sugar. Even more gradually, at Emma’s urging, Killian acquired a taste for greasy diner food.

Six weeks after Emma’s attempt to nurse Killian back to health, they went on their first official date. Killian was very happy to discover that Emma Swan did indeed have both a sweet and funny side. They realized they had many things in common, as they talked during their dinner at one of Boston’s most renowned restaurants, then walked along the waterfront.

At the conclusion of the date, they shared a kiss outside her apartment door, which opened both of their eyes to the fact that there was a significant spark of attraction between them. As they continued to date, the spark ignited into a blazing flame. (They made sure to replace the expired condoms in Killian’s medicine cabinet, once it was obvious they were going to put them to use.)

They became each other’s ‘person’ - someone to laugh with, cry with, share everything with, and nurse back to health when the need arose. By the following winter, when the flu made its way through Killian’s office once again, he had his own live-in nurse, whose skills were much improved from the previous year.

By that time, they still had a love/hate relationship…but now, it was minus the hate.

*********

A couple of fun notes:

-Colin was drinking a Dr. Pepper Zero during the Meet & Greet I went to at GalaxyCon in Columbus last year.

-At another con several years ago, Jen admitted she never drank black coffee until Colin got her hooked on it. (No pun intended!)

*********

Thank you for reading.

Tagging:

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4 @hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda

@pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426

@julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling @andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones

@zaharadessert @lyssapup27 @undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat @teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90 @apiratewhopines

@hollyethecurious @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @caught-in-the-filter @stahlop @veryverynotgoodwrites @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @whimsicallyenchantedrose @earanemith @superchocovian @idristardis @captainswan-kellie @beckettj

[cssecretsanta2020]

SO MANY SANTAS! BUT there's always room for more!

This event welcomes all santas old, new, santas that haven't made anything in a while, santas that have never made anything.

The gifts don't have to be fanfic or art. It can be anything from icons, gifs, playlist, fic recomendations, poem, anything! As long as its Captain Swan related/inspired and based off what your giftee likes!

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SIGN UPS CLOSE NOVEMBER 26th! PAIRING GO OUT NOVEMBER 29th-30th!

[everything-person]

Summary: Princess Emma has gone missing and with the kings promise of a special reward for the one to bring her home safely her friends plan to be the ones to do just that.

A/N: The Rescue is a one shot fic I wrote for Captain Swan January Joy 2021 before that it was a prompt from a Wander Over Yonder episode for a good couple of years. Though I do like my one shot version I will admit I rushed the ending so I am now writing it as a multi chapter on AO3.

You can fin the original one shot on Tumblr Here.

The multi chapter on AO3 Here.

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 19: Nightmares

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 18

tw: minor descriptions of physical assault, PTSD panic attack, car crashes, and emetophobia (very minor description)

Present Day, June 1986

It’s been three weeks since the court ruled in Steve’s favor, and he still doesn’t quite believe it. Doesn’t believe it when his lawyer calls to tell him that the payment will be coming to him soon. Doesn’t believe it when that money gets transferred to him. When he pays his lawyer and it’s all over.

Steve doesn’t have to fight with them anymore. Have to think about them anymore. They have absolutely no power over him whatsoever.

He doesn’t know what to do with that really.

All his life, he’s been playing the part designed for him. Done what other people wanted, doing things for himself later. In secret. Now that most of it was out, the pressure gone, he doesn’t know what to do anymore.

Steve gets up to go to a job that he didn’t want in the first place. Really only got because his dad wanted him to get a part time job as punishment for not getting into college. Following Robin after the mall blew up. It was all just stops on a train that he was given the ticket to.

Now he switched trains on his own accord. Went in a different direction. One that he chose because he wanted it. Sounded like a life he wanted to live. Sounded like there were other passengers on the train that might get off at the same destination. Want to spend time with him as they traveled. Get to know him. Maybe even love him.

And that’s what happened. He still doesn’t know how, or why. What to do with it. But he’s learning to.

If anyone were to ask him what he was going to do with this life he has now, with the winnings, he wouldn’t know. He doesn’t know what he wants to do tomorrow let alone in the next five years. The picture he has in his head looks the same as it is now. Happy with everyone he loves around him, looking exactly the same.

But that’s not what’s going to happen.

The kids are going to grow up, change, go off to school. Julie will too, leaving his house empty again. Robin will eventually go to a school that can give her more than a community college can. People in the town will continue to outgrow it.

While Steve continues to stay in the same spot forever. Rooted in the same place that hurt him so much. The same place that helped him grow into someone he’s actually proud of. Showed him the life he could have if he was just brave enough to go and catch it.

Now that he has it, it’s all he’s ever wanted. He’s not ready to let it go quite yet.

“Do you think you could teach me how to drive?” Julie asks Steve over dinner.

Steve freezes in shock, head shooting up to look at her. “Yeah, sure, I guess.”

He’s known her less than a year but the question still makes him feel so old. Feeling like he watched her grow up as she went through so many changes. So many emotions. Slowly formed into the person she is now right in front of him.

“Cool.” Julie says, going back to her dinner.

Steve wonders how long she’s been wanting to learn how to drive. She’s been able to for over a year now, just never got around to it. With the nature of her mother’s accident, he wasn’t sure when she would want to ever learn. If she would want to.

“Is there a reason you wanted to learn?” He asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

Julie shrugs. “Just haven’t yet. And I’ve been thinking about maybe getting a part time job, saving to try and get a car of my own before I go to college. I know it’s still a year away, but cars are expensive and minimum wage is shit.”

College. Something he knew was coming but was hoping it could be a little farther away. He wonders if this is how every parent feels. Wishing their kid would just stay in one place for a little while longer and stop growing. Stop changing. So they don’t have to change with them.

He’s not a parent. Not yet, and not for a long while. But he can’t help but feel some sort of protective instinct over these kids that changed his life. Want to look out for them in every situation, make sure that nothing ever hurts them. He knows that’s not how life is supposed to go. Kids are supposed to make mistakes and learn from them. That’s the way it went for him, so it’s the way it will go for them.

He just didn’t want it to.

“I don’t know why you’re so worked up about this,” Robin comments while unboxing the newest releases. “We all knew this day would come someday.”

Steve sighs, leaning on the door of the stock room. “I just wanted that someday to take longer to actually get here. It’s like the last few years went by so fast and got so muddled in my mind that I forgot time kept moving.”

“I get that. But,” she places the last tape on the cart and turns to him, “just because the kids are getting older, doesn’t mean that they’re leaving.”

They are in a way, though. Even though he knows that won’t be permanent. That they won’t forget about him the way other people have, it still makes the anxiety trapped in his chest start to rise. The instinct to hold on tight and never let go so much stronger.

“This town is too small for them. We both know that. They are going to go do amazing things, while I’m still here doing the same mediocre things I always do.” He holds the door open for her as she rolls the cart through.

“Have you ever thought about doing other things?”

Steve pauses in front of the cart, making Robin run into him. “What?”

“You’re acting like you can’t do other things. If you hate what you’re doing right now, try something different. No one’s forcing you to do the same thing you were doing yesterday.”

She pivots the cart to move around him, leaving him with thoughts he’s honestly been scared to think about.

Steve’s made a routine for himself. Go to work, pick up the kids, drive them around, go home. Live a life that he enjoys and work a job that he kind of hates. Follow his best friend wherever she goes because he’ll love whatever it is.

Was it what he thought he’d be doing with his life, no. Is it something he wanted to do the rest of his life? He doesn’t want to answer that question. The rest of his life was uncertain for the longest time. Each year testing the strength of his body and his mind. Making it feel like tomorrow was some bright future he may never get to see.

It was easy to get so stuck in the present when the future seemed like it would never come. Now that it is, Steve is scared to figure out what it is. What it means for him.  

“Look,” Robin continues, knowing exactly how he’s feeling. “I’m not saying you have to pick what you want to do right now. Or tomorrow, or the day after that. I’m just saying that if you really hate doing this,” she waves towards the shelves, “then you can start thinking about what you would want to do instead. There is still so much time for you to figure it all out.”

Time is something Steve’s learning how to deal with. But Robin’s right. Maybe it’s finally the right moment to think about what he can do with it.

. . .

“That is so exciting,” El exclaims when Julie tells her that Steve is going to teach her how to drive. “You will be the first one of us to learn how to drive.”

“Well, that’s actually Max,” Lucas corrects. “She learned how to drive a while ago.”

“Yeah poorly,” Mike adds. “And only in a parking lot.”

Max rolls her eyes. “I drove in the street that one time.”

“And almost got us killed.”

“Scared Steve shitless.” Dustin laughs.

“Scared all of us shitless.”

“Not me,” Lucas defends. I wasn’t scared.”

Dustin snorts. “So that wasn’t your high-pitched scream then?”

Lucas kicks him under the table.

El turns to Max. “When did you drive?”

Max motions for El to get closer and whispers it into her ear. Just another reminder that Julie has no idea what they are talking about. Another inside joke that she’ll never understand. El takes a second to be shocked before bursting out into giggles.

When the bell rings, Max stops Julie before she can walk away. “Hey, could you help me bring my stuff to my next class. El has a test today so she can’t do it.”

Julie shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

She picks up Max’s backpack and carries it in front of her. Following after Max as she yells at the groups of seniors who like to stand in the hallway and block everyone’s path.

“So, you and El have gotten pretty close, yeah?” Max asks way too casually than she should for such a loaded question. And in the middle of the hallway.

“I mean we’re friends, right,” Julie tries to play it cool. Especially since to El, this is all they are.

Max stops, turning her chair to Julie and giving her a look that tell her to cut the shit. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t really want to talk about this here.”

She barely wants to talk about it at all. The hatred for herself slowly turning into guilt that churns her stomach each time she looks at El. Knowing that she’s feeling something that she shouldn’t. Almost asking El for something that she can’t give. Wishing that this feeling could go away and they could just go back to being normal friends. Without all this complicated shit.

“That’s fair.” Max resumes rolling down the hallway, stopping in front of her classroom and reaching out to take the bag from Julie. “Your house after school then?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Julie wishes she would.

“El’s my best friend. Of course I’m not.”

The school day ends, and they go over to her house. She sits next to Max in her room like it’s some interrogation. Waiting for her to be the first to speak. Not wanting to share too much too fast.

“You know, El’s probably going to be pissed when she figures out that we hung out without her,” Max finally breaks the silence.

Julie huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, probably.”

The thing about actually having a crush, Julie realizes, is that it’s so special to have one. Like a little secret that she and only a few other people know. This special little feeling that, at the end of the day, brings her so much joy to have. Even though it’s terrifying. It’s a good terrifying.

“I was really happy when El became friends with you so fast,” Max continues. “I love the guys, but she needed someone else who knew how to take it down a notch. Someone calmer. Someone like you.”

Her lips can’t help but turn into a soft smile. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Max nods. “I think we all needed that too. Life has been crazy the last few years and it’s been nice to have someone to remind us that life doesn’t always have to be tied to that. Especially for El.”

“What do you mean?”

Max takes a deep breath, shifting the pillow behind her. “There’s a lot that I can’t tell you, and there’s stuff that I don’t even really know. None of us do. She wouldn’t tell us all of it. But you know how El is adopted right?”

Julie nods.

“I, uh, don’t know how much of this she wanted me to tell you. Just that she didn’t want to do it herself so bear with me here. Before she was adopted, El was in a really bad home. If that’s what you could even call it. And a lot of really terrible things happened there that none of us like to talk about. She escaped from there one night and eventually got adopted by Hopper.”

Julie remembers that night she stayed at the Byers after they got kicked out of the house. How she told El about the fourth of July when the mall burnt down, and she saw all those people walking to their death. The face El made after she said it. Looking determined as all hell and older than she needed to be. Like a switch in her mind flipped and she was a totally different person than Julie knew her to be.

How horrible her life must have been to take the joy out of her face so fast. To turn defense mode on in a way that made her look like a soldier.

“That’s terrible,” are the only words Julie can think to say.

Max nods, looking down at her hands. “Yeah, it is. This is the same place, same people, that are responsible for a lot of the bad things that happened in this town. They worked at the Hawkins lab.”

“Shit,” Julie sighs, leaning back against her wall.

“Yeah, shit.”

The room fills with silence.

“Why are you telling me all of this now?”

“Because I’ve never seen El open up to a person as fast as she has with you. It took a long time for her to open up to me, and sure there were other things in the way that stopped that, but I’m talking right as we became friends. We were close, but not you guys close.”

Julie can’t imagine Max and El being different from the way they are now. The soft interactions full of a trust that looked so natural. Like they had been friends for a lifetime, fully comfortable around one another.

“And I’m starting to notice, and please tell me if this is out of line, that you might be thinking about El differently than I think about El.”

Julie wonders if this is the time where it isn’t taken well. That someone tells her that this is the worst thing that she could do. Having a crush on a friend could break relationships. She didn’t want to break this one.

“I do,” she finally says to Max. Ready for the berating to start.

Instead, Max nods with resignation. “I think El does too.”

The room starts to buzz as Julie’s heart starts to pick up. “What?”

“She hasn’t, like, told me anything. And she’s probably going to hate me for telling you this at all. But I want to protect her and protect you too and this weird waiting period is really awkward for me, and I’d rather just get to the point where I’m third wheeling.”

“I’m sorry,” Julie interrupts her, still trying to wrap her head around the idea that there’s a possibility that El might like her back. “You think El likes me?”

Max raises her eyebrow. “Have you seen the way she’s been acting around you? Complimenting you every day, clipping your hair back, giggling at literally every joke you say. No offense but that’s a little excessive, your jokes aren’t always that funny.”

Moments start to replay in Julie’s mind. Having been so focused on the way she’s been acting, that she didn’t even notice the way El’s behavior around her changed. How she interacted with Julie just different enough from the rest of the group for it to be significant. For it to be special.

She remembers shrinking in on herself when she knew El was looking at her for longer than she should. Thinking that it was because Julie was making her feel uncomfortable. Never because she could have been doing the same thing Julie has been doing this whole time. Admiring in secret.

“I didn’t notice.”

Max groans. “Of course you didn’t. Neither of you did. It’s like Will and Mike not realizing that they’re into each other. Do you know how frustrating it is to know that your friends like each other but they’re too stupid to do anything about it.”

“Oh my god, you noticed the Will and Mike thing too, I thought that was just me.”

“Don’t try and change the subject. You like El, and I think El likes you. What are you going to do about it?”

Julie winces. “Is nothing an option?”

Max grabs Julie’s arm. “You are driving me crazy. Ask her out or some shit.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Julie says, full of fear. “What if I mess up and then I lose all of you guys. I already feel like an outsider sometimes when you guys start talking about the things I don’t know about. I’m the friend that everyone would be ok to lose if this doesn’t work out.”

A few beats pass before Max starts to speak. “Ok, one, you are not the friend that everyone would be ok to lose. You have integrated yourself into the group more than you think you have. Second, you are so focused on a relationship that you haven’t even started yet. Life’s too short to have regret for the steps you didn’t take. Believe me, I know.”

Max wraps her arms around her leg, shifting it to a better position. Inadvertently reminding Julie of the things that have happened the past few years. The events she was just a bystander to, never fully experiencing what happened. When they did, somehow. She still wished she kind of knew.

But maybe Max was right. Maybe Julie could take the risk. Ask El on a date. Hope that it would work out, and that she wouldn’t regret it later. What would she regret more? Asking, or forever wondering how it would have turned out had she not.

. . .

July 1987

The room is blurry as Steve comes into consciousness. The bright lights giving him a headache, and the taste of copper resting on is tongue. His one eye can’t open that well, almost swollen shut. His wrists burn against rope as he twists them. Trying to get them apart.

His good eye blinks, focusing on a pair of black boots in front of him. Raising his head, he meets the scowling face of the Russian officer. Hearing words spoken in a language he doesn’t understand to the other man in the room.

“Ah, he’s awake,” The Russian slurs in English. Stepping forward and looking down at Steve. Menacing.

“Let me go,” Steve begs. “I don’t know anything.”

The officer grabs his hair, pulling his head back to look at him. Steve’s tempted to spit in his face.

“I am only going to ask you this again. Who do you work for?”

Steve can’t help but let out a sad laugh. Knowing he won’t be awake for much longer. “I already told you. I work at Scoops.”

The ringing in his ears starts when his cheek burns. Vision blurring again. He straightens his head, panting to try and get the air back into his lungs. Only for it to leave as the officer hits him again. Always the right side of his head. It hurts so much it’s almost numb.

“No, no, no,” Steve pleads as the officer winds up again. Blood pooling in his mouth with the next collision. He spits on the group. “I work at Scoops,” he screams with as much breath he can muster.

The world goes dark again.

Steve wakes with a scream. The surroundings not matching that of his cell. A weight around his torso preventing him from getting up. He rips the blankets off of him, pulling the weight off and throwing it away. Cursing as his feet can’t kick off the sheets. Can’t get free.

Tears are streaming down his face as he struggles. His hands free. The rope burn stinging his skin. His torso itches like crazy. Like small little bites stabbing into his skin. He needs to find Robin. Needs to see if she’s ok.

“Steve,” a voice says to him. How do they know his same? Did he tell it to them? What are they going to do to him now.

He still struggles with the blanket, finally pulling his feet free. Attempting to get off the bed and search for anything as a weapon. This place isn’t the cell he was in before. They must have moved him when he was knocked out.

“Steve,” the voice says again. Sitting up on the bed and starting to move towards him.

Steve flinches from the touch, raising his fists. Ready to strike them first this time. His heart is beating in his ears, the constant ringing in his right only amplified. Adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He needs to get out of here.

A light clicks on. Illuminating the room he’s in. It doesn’t look like a cell. It looks like a bedroom. Have they constructed this just to give him a false sense of security?”

“It was just a dream, Steve.” The man gets out of the bed, taking a cautious step towards Steve. Hands outstretched to block any punches Steve might throw.

Steve wasn’t the threat here. He was just trying to protect himself.

“Can you tell me three things you notice about this room?” The man cautiously spins them around, clicking on another lamp in the room.

The bare walls reflect the light, the soft yellow so different from the blaring white. The walls a tan instead of white or grey. It looks so familiar, but Steve’s mind is so confused. The tears continue to stream down his face as he tries to figure out where he is.

“I work at Scoops,” Steve stutters.

“I know you do.” The man replies quickly. “I believe you.”

More tears. Steve’s hands lower. They know now. Does that mean he’s free to go?

“Tell me three things you see,” he repeats. So soft it makes Steve want to crumble.

“A bed,” he whispers. “A nightstand. A lamp.”

The man takes another step forward. Coming into more clarity. Brown curls fall onto his shoulders. He looks nothing like the Russians.

“Good. Anything else?”

“There’s a picture on the nightstand. The bed has blue sheets. There’s a poster on the wall.”

Eddie places a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder, he flinches before leaning into it. Closing his eyes and trying to focus on the touch. Letting it ground him.

There’s a knock on the door. Steve’s eyes fly open again as he whips his head to look. Heartbeat increasing again.

“Take a seat, sweetheart, I’ll get it.”

Steve freezes, unable to move. He’s directed toward the bed, somehow, he sits down. Knuckles clenched into white.

“Are you guys ok,” he hears a soft voice say. “I heard screaming.”

Eddie doesn’t open the door more than a small crack. “Yeah, we’re fine. I got this, you can go back to bed.”

The door shuts with a small click. Eddie returning to Steve. Sits next to him as the adrenaline fades. Leaving his body exhausted and his mind still searching for explanations.

“Can you tell me what year it is, Steve?”

He shakes his head.

“It’s July second, 1987. You survived them, Steve. Everyone did.”

A sob escapes his throat. His body collapsing into himself. Curling up as the energy releases. He’s wrapped into a hug and pulled further into the bed. Being protected while he falls apart.

Steve wakes up again a few hours later. Gets out of bed and into a routine. Takes a shower, gets dressed, makes himself breakfast. Goes through the motions of a normal morning.

The front door closes quietly. Eddie and Robin coming into the house. Sitting with Steve at the table.

“I took Julie to school, that’s why I wasn’t here,” Eddie explains. “I told Robin what happened.”

Robin looks down at the table, biting at her lip. “Tomorrow marks two year since-.”

Steve looks at his coffee. “Yeah, I know.”

“I can’t believe it’s been that long. It feels so close yet a lifetime away.”

“It was like I was back there. Even when I woke up.” Steve takes a deep breath. “I thought it was going to be better this year.”

Robin’s hand finds his, her fingers shaking. “Me too.”

They find themselves curled up on the couch for the rest of the day. Eddie there just to make sure they’re both ok. The house quiet except for the low volume on the tv. Lights off so they don’t flicker. Robin’s fingers pressed into Steve’s wrist to feel his pulse. His arm holding her close, proving that she’s there.

They made it out of there. They’re both alive. He wishes that their minds would stop trying to tell them otherwise.

. . .

Julie walks into a dark house. Steve and Robin asleep on the couch with Eddie awkwardly sitting next to them. Looking out of place. She wants to ask about what she heard last night. How she heard the screams from across the hall.

Eddie gets up when he notices her. Motions for her to meet him in Steve’s bedroom. Shuts the door gently behind them before turning on the light.

“You probably have a few questions about last night.”

Julie nods. “Is he ok?”

Eddie runs a hand down his face. “Physically, yeah, he’s fine. But other than that, he will be. This week is an anniversary of something for him. He was reminded of that last night.”

“The mall fire,” Julie fills in. “I know that they were there that night.”

“Do you know why?”

Julie shakes her head. No one would tell her more when she asked.

Eddie nods, crossing his arms and swaying on the balls of his feet. “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to tell you what happened. I don’t even know the full of it.”

She thought Steve told him everything. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s the reason Steve can’t hear well in his right ear anymore. And the reason he gets really bad PTSD attacks. Like the one he had last night.”

“And that’s why,” she tilts her head to the door. Knowing that Steve and Robin tangled together in the living room.

“She was there too.” Eddie looks at the door. Pain painting his face. “A part of me wishes I knew what really happened to them so I could help. But they already relive this pain more than they should, they don’t need to do it again just to fill me in.”

Julie pauses before asking the question that’s been on her mind since the first time she heard screams through the walls. Wonders if there’s a part of her that really wants to know. Or if this is just morbid curiosity. But there were memories of her own that haunt her. Placing her back into moments of her life with things left unexplained.

She cares about these people. It hurts to know that they are in pain. And if she could help, know how to help them through the panic or PTSD attacks, she thinks it’s important enough to know.

“Do you think you could tell me what you know,” she asks softly. “Or at least what you do to help calm him down. I think it would be good for me to be prepared in case it happens and you or Robin aren’t here.”

Eddie presses his lips together. “I’ll do the second one, not the first. As much as he doesn’t want to talk about it, it’s not my story to tell.”

“That’s fair.”

Eddie tells her what he does to calm Steve down when it gets really bad. How with the panic attacks, it’s good to count with him while he breaths. And if he’s willing, grab his hands to help ground him. Tell him about what’s in the room. How it’s different than the pictures in his mind. More things kind of all based on that.

Julie takes it all in, making a mental list in her mind, hoping she doesn’t forget it. Hoping that if it ever happens, she won’t mess it up. Saddened by the fact that this is Steve’s reality.

. . .

A few days pass since Steve’s reality morphed with his nightmares. The date crossed out on his calendar far enough away that it’s finally starting to sink in. Steve made it out of there two years ago. Yet it still affects him like it was yesterday.

Just like back then, life moves on. He goes to work and comes home. Gets weird thinking of the future, and what that means for him. How each milestone will pass, the anniversary of dates coming and going. Affecting him in more ways than he realizes. Until he’s waking in a cold sweat and his body is transported back into his past selves. Some fucked up time travel.

His mind stays fixated on that night. How long it took for his brain to recognize Eddie’s face. To differentiate the safety of his home with the danger of his interrogation cell. How dangerous it could have been.

Eddie told him that Julie has asked about it. How he didn’t say anything, but did tell her ways to help him through an attack. It’s something he never thought of before. Out of all the possibilities that run through his mind, the thought of her being present for one of the attacks never crossed. He never thought she would be there for one of them.

But she almost was. If Eddie hadn’t been there, it would have been Steve opening the door. He didn’t want her to see him like that. He didn’t want the monsters in his head to meld her into something she wasn’t.

She wasn’t a part of this life, he wanted to keep it that way. But Steve has never really gotten what he wished for. It was time to tell her the parts he could.

No one wants to hear about the truth. They don’t want to know the dangers that rest beneath their feet. Blissfully ignorant and wanting to stay that way. Ignorance, however, can hurt sometimes. He didn’t want it to hurt her.

When Julie gets home from school, Steve asks her to sit in the kitchen. Takes the seat across from her and starts to lay out everything. How this conversation can’t leave the room, and she’s never to let anyone know that he told her this.

“This is about Starcourt, isn’t it?” She asks somewhere in the middle of his warnings. “Why all those people walked straight to their death.”

“How did you know about that?” Steve knew that people must have seen it, but it was kept out of the news.

Julie tells him about the night she went looking for her mom. How she got caught in the crowd of people walking toward the mall. Saw the names of people she knew flicker on the tv screen the next morning.

Steve tells her more than he should. About how Will going missing five years ago was a catalyst to so much more. How he got roped into everything. Skipping the bit in the middle for the most part, focusing on how Max came into it all. Then gets to the Russians.

Tells her the story of an innocent mystery turned terrifying nightmare. The interrogation that thankfully didn’t end in his death. Fireworks that crashed into the monster the size of a building and crashing a car into a possessed maniac. All of it ending in burning red, leaving the survivors to cope with their loss.

She’s taking it better than he thought she would. And he hasn’t even said everything yet. Just barely gets to spring break before Julie is pulling him into a hug. Until he realizes the wetness of his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” she chokes. “I am so sorry you had to live through that.”

He doesn’t finish telling her everything. It’s probably a good thing. The NDA’s aren’t as loose as the ones from a few years ago. And it’s better for her to process this and maybe learn the rest later. If she wants to. If he wants to explain it all again.

. . .

“Alright, now turn on the blinker and slowly hit the gas again,” Steve instructs as Julie sits at a stop sign. No one else around.

It’s been a few weeks since she’s started learning how to drive. Slowly easing into it in random parking lots while no one is there. Learning where all the signals were, and basic traffic laws. Most of it was review, but she didn’t mind the practice.

She pushes on the gas, jerking the car into motion. Pulling away from the parking lot and onto the street. For the first time. Julie is driving on the road.

“Ok, good. Just try not to hit the gas so hard next time.”

Steve’s been an ok teacher. Patient for the most part but gets frustrated when he can’t explain something properly. But he hasn’t gotten angry at her yet. Carefully corrects her but makes sure she knows that she’s doing ok. That she’s starting to get this right.

Julie pulses the gas. Learning how to keep the speed of the road. Overcorrecting when she gets too close to the yellow lines. The overcorrecting again when she gets close to tree line.

It’s scary driving something so large. So powerful. Hearing how the engine revs each time she pushes her foot down too hard. Feeling the pull of the seatbelt against her chest as she hits the breaks too fast.

But she’s getting it. Adjusting herself as she gets used to the feel of the petals beneath her feet. Loosens her body as she gets more comfortable gripping the steering wheel. As she gets used to the size of the car and the way it moves.

“Great. You’re doing really great, Julie. How about we turn here and-.”

A deer jumps in front of the car.

Julie slams on the breaks as she swerves close to the trees. The car coming mere inches from the trunk. Her arms shaking as they grip the wheel.

It all can happen so fast.

Steve unbuckles his seatbelt, turning towards her. “Julie, take a breath ok.”

One wrong move and the hood of the car would be curved around the tree. The airbag would be in her face.

“Just take a breath, we’re ok.”

What if her foot had slipped as she pushed down on the breaks? What if her hands fumbled the turn? Would the deer have contacted the car? Would she have killed it?

“You followed your instincts. We’re ok. That’s all that matters. We’re ok.”

Was this what it was like right before her mom’s crash? Did a deer just jump in front of the car? Her foot missing the break as she slammed into a tree. As it crashes just right to take her life. Was this mistake so easy to make that Julie almost made it too?

“Julie,” Steve touches her shoulder, comforting her. “It’s ok. Take all the time you need.”

Julie unbuckles her seatbelt and bolts out of the car. Runs to the wood as bile stings her tongue. Let’s the adrenaline out onto the dirt as she crashes. As the air escapes from her lungs.

Steve’s beside her rubbing her back. Saying something but it doesn’t register. Too stuck in her head to think of anything else.

“I’m sorry,” slips out of her mouth. Not sure of what else to say.

“Don’t be. It was just an accident, it happens all the time.”

Tears start to make their way out of her eyes. “But I didn’t see it. I could’ve. I could’ve crashed the car. Or worse and.” Sharp, shaky breaths interrupt her sentences.

Steve turns her to look at him. “Julie, hey. Look at me.” She does. “Take a deep breath, ok.”

He counts as she forces herself to breath in. She holds it, feeling the beat of her heart in her lungs. Releases it. Does it again.

“I didn’t see the deer either,” Steve admits once she calms down a little. “Something must have scared it, and it ran into the road. And you did a good job avoiding it.”

She doesn’t feel like it was a good job. “It all happened so fast.”

The tears continue to stream down her face. The feeling of the break pressed into the bottom of her foot. Throbbing. Her shoulder stinging from the pull of the seatbelt. The feeling of it all finally registering.

Her forehead hurts. Something is dripping down in between her eyes. She reaches up and swipes away blood. The buzz coming back to her veins.

“Fuck,” she mutters, eyes glued to her hand.

Steve gets up and comes back with a small first aid kit. Wiping away the blood with some napkins and pressing them against her forehead. Waiting for the bleeding to stop.

She doesn’t even remember her head hitting the steering wheel.

They sit in silence while Steve cleans the cut. Julie wincing when the alcohol wipe hits her broken skin. Steve finds a small piece of gauze and tapes it to her forehead. Packing up the first aid kit and returning to just sitting next to her.

“We’ll sit here as long as you want to, then I’ll drive us home,” he says.

Drive. Julie doesn’t know how she can sit in the car again. Knowing how easy it is for it all to fail.

“It all happened so fast,” she says again. Fixated on it.

“Yeah, yeah it did.” Steve’s trying to stay strong but she can see the shock in his actions too.

“Was it that fast when,” a lump forms in her throat. “When she? When my mom?”

Steve realizes what she’s talking about, starting to open and close his mouth. Trying to find something to say.

“I,” he starts. “I don’t know.”

“That’s all I could think about.” She looks at him. “All I can think about is how I could almost have died just like her. One wrong move and I-. And we-.”

Steve grabs her arms, looking her dead in the eyes. “Hey,” he says softly. “It’s ok. Whatever could have happened, it doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that we’re here, and we’re safe. You got shocked and followed your instincts. And because of that, we’re both ok.”

Ok normally doesn’t feel like this. But she tries, really tries to listen to his words.

“I know none of this is going to stop the what ifs in your mind. Believe me, I know. But those what ifs are not going to change what happened. It’s important to remember that.”

She knows he’s right. But it’s so hard to keep her mind on track. Letting it off rail to the ends of possibilities. Wondering if there was ever one where there was never an almost crash to begin with.

“Let’s go home. Get an icepack on that head and make sure it’s ok before you go to sleep. Ok?”

Slowly, Julie nods. “Ok.”

She gets in the car. Buckling the seat belt and tugging it to make sure it locked. Steve gets in the driver’s seat and readjusts it and the mirrors before slowly pulling away. The almost accident fading as she stares in the sideview mirror.

It was just an accident. It can happen to anyone. It just had to happen to her.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis,

@ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi,

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet,

@steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy,

@connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso,

@crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @melonmochi

[princess-and-the-swan]

CS Fic Recs: Bridgerton-Inspired AU

While I anxiously await the arrival of the second half of Bridgerton S3, I'm absolutely DEVOURING these 3 Bridgerton-inspired CS fics I've found:

A Scoundrel... Or a Gentleman? by @kmomof4

Killian Jones has been in love with Emma Nolan since the day he met her - the day before she married his brother Earl Liam Jones. That was six years ago, and Liam has been gone now for four years. Emma and Killian have both arrived in London for the season - her to seek a husband so she can hopefully bear children, him to finally take up his duties as the earl, including finding a wife. Will they succeed in their respective desires? Complete. Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton's story, this is the fic that sent me into my Bridgerton-fic frenzy. While there is a little bit of Liamma in the beginning, this is very much a Captain Swan fic and it's so much fun to follow along with the evolving relationship dynamic between the two.

A Mistress to No One by @kmomof4

Bastard Emma Swan enjoys one night of pure magic and romance in the midst of a life of drudgery and abuse- attending a masquerade ball and meeting aristocrat Killian Jones. Two years later, the same man she met on the best night of her life reappears, saving her from a dire fate in the process. Now, she must keep herself from falling in love with a man she can never have. But when that proves impossible, is there any hope for a happy ending between two people from such vastly different worlds? Complete. I will admit, that I have never read Benedict Bridgerton's story, so I had no idea what to expect. This story reminds me of Cinderella but if Cinderella and her prince had an actual connection beyond a single dance.

The Duke and His Swan by @hollyethecurious

Dearest Reader, the ton is abuzz with speculation that the new Duke of Ironhook will be remaining in town for the duration of the Season. Second born of the illustrious Jones family, Killian Jones has quite the legacy to live up to now he has inherited the dukedom from his late elder brother. Also entering Society for her first season is Miss Emma Swan, ward to the Viscount Nolan’s family. Gifted with a respectable dowry, Miss Swan’s financial worth and uncommon good looks will surely make up for her rumored prickly disposition in the eye of more than one fortune seeking suitor. Stay tuned, Dear Reader, for this author has it on good authority His Grace and Miss Swan shall cause quite a sensation, perhaps even resulting in… scandal! Complete. If you haven't already read this fic, I HIGHLY recommend it. Loosely inspired by Daphne Bridgerton's story, this is very much a friends to lovers trope that so many of us adore. After I read this fic, I binged several of this author's other works as well because her writing is absolutely addictive :)))

These fics are the bane of my existence and the object of all my desires and I really hope more Bridgerton-inspired fics will begin to pop up--especially a Colin Bridgerton-esque fic to commemorate the Polin season! If you've found any others that you enjoyed, please please please let me know! Happy reading!!

[overlordofthelollipopguild]

Taking That Second Chance, Chapter 7 - A Captain Swan, Once Upon A Time Fanfic

Start here on FF.net and here on A03.

Chapter 7 is here and here.

Note: I know that in canon, Regina tried to train Emma in magic the same way she was taught, so using anger and negative emotions to use magic, but I'm going with the idea that perhaps at that time, Regina didn't fully understand Emma was truly a Light Witch, so after Regina figured it out, she trained Emma better. The reason I'm mentioning this is because there's an explanation of Light and Dark magic in the chapter and I'm trying to head of the nitpickers in the reviews/comments.

Also, TRIGGER warning for mild mentions of alcoholism and addiction.

Chapter 7

“Choices are the hinges of destiny.” – Pythagoras  

A bright light spilled out of the Wishing Well of Storybrooke as the group from the Enchanted Forest flew out of the portal. 

Snow landed first tucking and rolling as she lost her footing. Laying on her back, she looked up at the bright sky, finding herself in a different set of woods than the ones in the Enchanted Forest. Pushing herself up, she looked around, recognizing the well. 

She was back home. 

As Marian stumbled out, she maneuvered so that she landed on her back with Roland tightly tucked against her chest. Her breath left her as her back hit hard ground, eyes closing and teeth clenching at the pain. 

Roland cried against her, scared and overwhelmed over the realm traveling, not understanding exactly what happened. 

Mulan and Aurora stumbled out next, both tumbling to their knees close to the well. Mulan looked around for any threats. Finding none, she stood and helped Aurora up, glancing over her for any injuries. 

Finally, Anton brought up the rear falling over the edge last and flat onto his back onto the ground. He heaved heavily trying to catch his breath. It took him a moment to get his bearings. 

Snow pushed herself up and looked around wildly. “Where’s Emma?” She hurried over to the well, seeing the portal close. “No, no. Emma!” 

“Hook,” Anton gasped out. “He said they were right behind. Portal was closing.” He pushed himself up, using the wall of the well as an aide. “He was running towards the portal, but he was carrying her. That might’ve slowed him down.” 

“Do you think they missed it?” Aurora asked as she too came towards the well, looking for any inkling that Emma or Hook were coming through. 

Snow stared down into the darkened well, not even able to see the water at the bottom. There was no sign of Emma or Hook. No, no, no. Panic gripped her at the thought of being separated from Emma again. They just found each other; now Emma was stuck in another realm with the most dangerous and notorious pirate in their land. Tears pricked at her eyes. She was a horrible mother. She couldn’t keep her daughter twenty-eight years ago, and she lost her again now. What if they couldn’t find another portal? What if Emma was stuck there for good?

“At least Cora didn’t come over with us.” Mulan stated grimly. “Kicking her away from us as we travelled through realms must’ve worked.”

“What does that mean?” Aurora asked. “Is she still alive?” 

Marian stood, loosening her tight hold on Roland, who calmed down somewhat, but just barely. “Does it matter? She’s not here, which means she can’t terrorize any of us anymore.” That was certainly a relief for all of them. She brushed dirt off of Roland’s cheek. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

Roland just nodded, clinging to his mother. “Want to go home, Mama.”

Marian swallowed. She hadn’t wanted to go through the portal, and now they were separated from Robin. Again. Her poor husband was probably going out of his mind with worry not knowing where Roland was or if he was even alive. 

“We need to find a portal back.” Snow said. 

“Are there portals here?” Marian asked. She needed a portal back to the Enchanted Forest, back to Robin, but with this being the Land Without Magic, Marian doubted finding a portal would be easy.

“No.” Snow said. “The Dark One is here, so maybe he knows of some way? I can’t leave my daughter in the Enchanted Forest with a man I can’t trust she’s safe with.”

“Even if she’s not safe with Hook, she sure knows how to handle him.” Mulan grumbled. She glanced around the woods before turning to Snow. “This is your world. What do we do now?”

Snow looked down the well one last time with the vain hope she might see Emma. Closing her eyes, Snow took a breath. She’d find a way back to Emma. Even if she had to make a deal with the Dark One. Opening her eyes, Snow turned back to the group. “We head into town, get you all settled, and I reunite with my husband and grandson.” Her grandson who might very well hate her for leaving his mother behind. 

“Let’s go then.” Marian said. “I for one could use some food and a bed.” Then maybe discuss a portal with the Dark One. 

The others agreed and followed Snow through the woods into the town. 

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

He really should’ve waited until the afternoon when school got out. Reuniting with her now would only distract her, but after a long night of thinking over Liam and Henry’s words, Jefferson knew he couldn’t wait any longer to reunite with his daughter. Even though he was sweating from nerves and second guessing himself, Jefferson stood still staring at the bus as it came down the street.

Here we go. 

He watched the bus pull up to the school parking lot. Swallowing, Jefferson walked closer as the fourth graders hopped off the bus. Come on, Hatter, you can do this. 

Jefferson watched each face, searching for the familiar face of his daughter. 

Soon enough, Henry exited the bus with Liam close behind him. His breath caught in his throat as Grace appeared behind the boys. Her smile was wide, laughing at something one of the boys said. 

Jefferson stepped closer. Taking a deep breath, he needed to get to her. It was now or never. 

“Grace!” He called out, hoping she’d recognize his voice. 

Grace froze. 

Liam and Henry paused as they too heard her name, both turning, both looking surprised when they saw him behind Grace, though he was still a good distance away. 

“Grace!” He called out again, his throat tightening the longer it took for her to turn around. She hates me. What am I even doing here? I knew this was a bad idea. Gods, I should’ve left her alone. She’s probably happier without me. 

Finally, she slowly turned around. Tears and disbelief were in her brown eyes when she took in the sight of him. 

Then suddenly she was sprinting towards him. “Papa!” 

Relief filled him as he realized that her tears were joyful ones, so he knelt down just in time to catch her in his arms. 

Her arms locked around his neck as she buried her face in his shoulders, sobbing into him. “Papa, papa, you found me. I can’t believe you found me.” 

Guilt ate at him at her words. She believed he’d been looking for her just as she’d been looking for him. He swallowed again, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat. Grace deserved the truth. No more cowardice and no more lies. Jefferson squeezed her tightly one last time before releasing her to look at her. He brushed some loose strands of her dark blonde hair behind her ear. Gods, she looked so much like her mother. That only struck his heartache all the more. 

“Grace, I…” He choked on his words for a moment. Once he told her the truth, she might very well hate him then. “I missed you so much.” Emotions overwhelmed him. Guilt, fear, remorse, everything hitting as he looked into her guileless brown eyes. 

“Papa, it’s okay.” Grace smiled. “I missed you too. I’m so glad you found me.”

Jefferson winced. Here came the hard part. He needed to be honest with her. “Grace I love you so so much. You mean absolutely everything to me. I need you to know that.” 

“I know that.” Grace’s brow furrowed, confused as to why he was telling her this.

“Grace, I wasn’t cursed the same way everyone else was.” Jefferson began. “Regina left my memories intact even as she gave me knew memories. Two lives in my head drove me to insanity. I didn’t know what was real somedays.” Jefferson swallowed thickly. “Even with two lives in my head, I had a huge house and wealth, but Regina took you from me. She put you right in front of me but made sure we could never be together. For twenty-eight years, all I could think about was how I failed you all the while watching you live a happy life with two very alive parents. I’m your father and I was supposed to protect you, but I let Regina scare me into one last job.” He paused, letting his words sink in, hoping Grace would understand. 

In the distance, the bell for school rang and Liam and Henry looked between father and daughter and the school building before shrugging. They’d let the teachers know what was going on, so they headed inside, letting Grace have her time with her father. 

“She tricked me, and I left you alone. It was the biggest mistake of my life and I can’t tell you how much I regret it.” He made sure to look into Grace’s eyes as he continued speaking. “When the curse broke, I knew where you were, but I thought you’d hate me for abandoning you and I was a coward. I let my own guilt rule my decisions, and thought staying away from you was for the best.”

Grace’s face fell as he spoke. Did he not want her? Was he saying goodbye for good?

“You were so happy under the curse.” Jefferson swallowed, tears gathering in his eyes. “I thought it was better for you to stay away. I’m still not sure if I should be in your life. My time away from you really did a number on me. I’m not exactly the most stable parental figure at the moment.” He paused again, this time to take a breath, hoping he’d be brave enough to continue. “I do love you. I want you to come home with me, but if that’s not what you want…if you want to stay with your cursed parents then I will be more than happy to let you because you deserve the best life you could possibly have even if I’m not in it.”

There. He got it all out. 

“Papa,” Grace let her tears fall. “You’re so stupid.” She hugged him fiercely. 

Jefferson blinked. Okay, was that an answer? He wasn’t sure but he hugged Grace back. “Does that mean you’re not mad at me?”

“No, Papa.” Grace mumbled into his shoulder. “I can come home after school, right?”

“My home?” Jefferson asked, wanting to be sure. “What about our neighbors…you’re other parents?”

Grace pulled away. “They’ve been helping me look for you. They want to help you out, like they did before the curse, but they want to start their own family.”

“Really?” Jefferson huffed out in disbelief. Grace wasn’t mad, and she wanted to come home. Fuck, he worried himself to death for no reason. Maybe he needed therapy. No, he definitely needed therapy. Not with Archie though. God, did they even have other therapists in Storybrooke? He shook his head a bit. He’d worry about that later. “Yeah, okay, I’ll pick you up here after classes and we’ll go talk to them.”

Grace beamed at him. “Okay.” She hugged him again. “Promise me you’ll be here?”

“I promise.” Jefferson said. “I swear to you I will be here.” He wanted to reenforce the idea to her that he wasn’t going to disappear again. Maybe family therapy wasn’t off the table. 

She nodded and reluctantly went inside, looking over her shoulder multiple times just to make sure he was still there. 

Jefferson sighed. Well, step one, reuniting with Grace was done. Now he needed to learn how to be a proper father again.

Crap. 

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

David entered Granny and Ruby’s private apartment on the ground floor of the Inn, looking for them after Art, the other cook, told him they were delayed from working today. “Ruby, Granny, you here?”

Feet pounded down the stairs and Ruby came into view, her expression one of pure panic. “We can’t find my cloak!” 

Her cloak that protected her from turning into the wolf during the full moon. While she hadn’t needed it in ages, with them being in a new realm with magic, Ruby was terrified about how the wolf would act during the moon. With the curse, they relived the same day over and over, but there wasn’t magic either. What if the wolf was feral now after being dormant for so long? What if she was a danger to everyone? 

The stairs creaked as Granny followed her. “We’ll find it. No need to worry, Red.” Her calm exterior was the reassurance Ruby needed, but inside, she was worried herself since with having magic in Storybrooke they weren’t sure how the wolf would react come the first full moon.

“What if we can’t find it in time?” Ruby asked, fear clear in her tone. “The full moon is just over a week away.” 

“Plenty of time then.” David said, following Granny’s lead to keep Ruby calm. “If we can’t find it, then we’ll figure something out.” He clasped a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I promise.”

Ruby relaxed slightly before stiffening again. Her head tilted in a way David knew meant her hearing picked something up. “Hold on. Is that…?” She raced out of the room, leaving David startled before he and Granny followed her. 

Just as David entered the parlor of the Inn, he saw a group of women, a man, and a small child. 

Ruby was hugging… “Snow!” David exclaimed hurrying over as Ruby and Snow pulled apart. 

Snow didn’t have time to recover from Ruby’s fiercest bear hug before Charming came in sweeping off her feet in a hug, his lips pressing hard against hers. “Charming.” She breathed, smiling against his kiss. 

As David set her down, before he could even speak, he was forcefully pulled away and thrown into a wall.

“Anton!” One of the women exclaimed shocked. 

“You!” A large, unshaven man with long dark brown curly hair pinned David to the wall with hatred in his eyes. “You killed my family! I should kill you too!” His hands gripped David’s throat tightly. 

“Anton, wait.” Snow and Mulan both moved to pull Anton off of David. Marian shielded Roland from the scene by hurrying back out of the Inn, fearful of her toddler becoming even more traumatized than he already was after everything with Cora. 

David struggled to breathe through the vice of Anton’s hands.

“No, I won’t let you protect this monster.” Anton snarled at the women. His hate filled eyes turned back to David. “You took everything from me.” Anton squeezed tighter. “How would your father, King George, feel if I killed you now?”

Snow, Ruby, and Granny all realized the same thing at once. Anton didn’t want revenge on David. He wanted revenge on James. 

If David hadn’t been fighting to breathe, he would’ve realized it too. 

“Anton, Prince James died thirty years ago.” Snow snapped, hoping she’d get through to the giant. “My husband is James’ identical twin brother David.”

Anton didn’t loosen his grip right away, but slowly he lessened the pressure around David’s neck. “What?” 

David was sputtering. 

“David and James were born to shepherds.” Snow said, trying to keep her wits about her as David struggled. “The Dark One took James when they were babies and George raised him while David was raised by their birth parents. David didn’t even know about James until after James died.” Snow cautiously approached Anton, placing a hand on his arm. “David isn’t James. He’s a good man. You need to release him.”

Anton slowly let David go and stepped back. He let David catch his breath before asking, “You really aren’t James?”

David breathe harshly, taking a minute before he found his voice. It was raspy as he spoke. “No. I never met him.” David coughed as his lungs begged for relief. He took another deep breath. “I know he was a bastard just like George. I’m sorry for what he did to you.” He coughed again, his throat bruised.

Granny appeared with a glass of water for David, which he took gratefully. 

“I’m sorry.” Anton whispered. “The last time I saw your face it was helping other humans murder my brothers. They were all I had left. They raised me.”

“Anton, I’m so sorry.” Snow patted his arm comfortingly. “I know it can never make up for what James did to you, but I truly wish things were different. I swear to you, David and James are completely different men.”

Tears formed in Anton’s eyes and he nodded as his throat thickened with emotions. He focused on David again. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you.”

David waved him off. “Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long for James’ reputation to catch up with me.” 

Snow turned to Granny and Ruby. “Anton, Mulan, Marian, and Aurora came over from the Enchanted Forest. They need rooms until we can get them on their feet.” 

“Of course.” Granny nodded. She led Anton and Mulan away towards the front counter. Aurora ducked out to let Marian know that the fight was over. 

Snow hugged David tightly, the adrenaline from watching him almost die still in her system. 

David leaned on her, still struggling to regain his breath. Anton’s grip was tight enough to leave bruises, but he hoped he didn’t have to go to the hospital. That’s when he realized something. “Wait, where’s Emma?” 

Snow’s expression crumbled. “The portal closed before she and Hook could come through. It happened so fast. Cora pulled Aurora through and then the rest of us fell in. Emma was separated from us. She’s still there.”

David swallowed though it was hard to do. His little girl was lost to them again. “Emma’s resourceful and smart. She’ll find a way back to us.” 

“I hope so, Charming.” Snow buried her face into his chest.

“Hold on, did you say Hook?” Ruby asked. “As in the legendary Captain Hook? He’s real?”

Snow sighed unhappily. “Not only is he real, but if we’re not careful, he’ll be Emma’s new boyfriend.” 

Shocked, David could only exclaim. “What?” 

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

Killian started a fire and kept Emma close to it, but without a change of clothes, he feared they’d both grow ill. He watched her unconscious form with concern. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t broken anything, but she’d have a hell of a bruise on her back. 

Even so, he checked periodically to make sure she was still breathing. 

With the portal closed, they’d have to figure out their next steps. Portals were hard to come by without magic beans now. He pulled the dried bean Emma gave him from his coat pocket. 

He wondered why Emma insisted on keeping a dried up, useless little thing like this; there couldn’t be any magic left, could there? 

His eyes traveled to the pool of water at the center of the clearing. What was the legend again? That the waters could restore life? Killian looked at the bean in his hand. Was it possible? Would the waters of the lake restore the bean?

A jolt of excited hope shot through his heart as he stood up and walked over to the water. Carefully, he held the chain from which the bean hung between his index finger and thumb. Please work. Lowering the chain, he dipped it underneath the water. 

Holding his breath, not knowing how long it would take, he watched the bean in the clear water. After a minute, the bean seemed to glow briefly before slowly turning from brown into a translucent, sparkling white. 

Killian grinned as he pulled the bean from the water. It actually worked. The bean was restored, which meant Emma had a way home.

The thought stopped him short. His first thought should’ve been that he had a way to exact his revenge. He was one step closer to killing the Dark One. Yet, his first thought concerned Emma. He looked over to her prone form. He could leave now and she wouldn’t be able to stop him; he’d get to the Dark One, magic be damned. 

Except it would be bad form to leave her. His heart didn’t want to anymore than his good form did. What about Milah? Why was he so concerned over a stranger when his revenge was within reach? In three-hundred years this was the closest he’d been to getting to the Dark One. He knew he couldn’t use the dagger, which was why he bottled some Dreamshade in the hopes that such an incurable poison would be the key. However, since Emma told him that the Dark One brought magic to Storybrooke, he tried to think of ways to get close to the crocodile, knowing that Rumplestiltskin would be on his guard if he ever saw him. He knew Emma wouldn’t help him since she was already against him getting his revenge. Though considering it was Rumplestiltskin he was after, Killian didn’t quite understand why she was so invested. On the beanstalk when she admonished him for his suicide mission, Killian could’ve sworn he saw grief in her eyes as though he meant something to her.

That was impossible though since they barely knew each other. Yet, since he met her, Killian couldn’t deny that there was a deep, intangible connection he felt towards her, and he was almost certain she felt it too.

Having never experienced anything like it, Killian wasn’t sure how to describe it other than this desire to know her, protect her, and be near her. If he was honest with himself, he hated this feeling, but he couldn’t help being curious about such a mystery. What was it about Emma that sparked this connection? Was it because she was the Savior? Was it because she had magic? Or worse, was she using magic to make him feel this way? He doubted that last bit. Emma truly didn’t seem comfortable with her magic even though she was far more advanced than any novice he’d encountered. More than that, she didn’t seem the type of person to manipulate people, and he would know having been that person and having worked with people like Cora and Regina.

Killian wished he had an answer. Especially since whatever was going on between him and Emma pushed Milah so easily from his mind in a way he’d never allowed before. He loved Milah so deeply and fiercely he thought he’d never get over her. She was his first love. They had only a few short years together before it all ended violently and abruptly. Killian despised Rumplestiltskin down to the marrow in his bones for ripping his happy ending away from him. Yet, here was this beacon of light crashing into his life so unexpectedly that he wasn’t prepared for her. 

It was a bitter pill to swallow and truth be told, Killian wanted to resent Emma for it, but he couldn’t quite find the strength to do so. With his mind a tumultuous whirlwind of emotions, Killian returned to Emma’s side, sitting beside her with his stomach full of knots as he thought over the choices he made in his life and about his revenge.

Anger, bitterness, hatred. These were the emotions he wrapped his heart in for so long he felt terrified to peel them away. Since Liam’s death, he wallowed in such darkness, which only intensified after Milah’s murder. He failed to get revenge for Liam’s death and the king lived on to continue his bloodline despite Killian’s efforts. He couldn’t fail Milah too. He needed to kill the Dark One. He couldn’t let some white witch, no matter how beautiful, get in the way of his goals. 

His revenge was all he had, and all he had ever lived for. At one time he thought he could let it all go for Baelfire, but the boy proved that opening one’s heart to love of any kind, whether it be familial as he had with Baelfire and Liam or romantic as he had with Milah, wasn’t worth the pain. He needed to protect his heart and if death was the final solution, so be it. No one cared whether he lived or died. His crew was gone, likely swept up in the curse and better off for it. He had no family. No one would miss him. After all villains don’t get happy endings. Villains only begot and received tragedy. 

After living so long, death was the only ending he truly needed and the only peace he would ever get from his torment. 

He fiddled with the magic bean, looking at the final key for his revenge. He was so close he could taste it. Yes, he’d get Emma home and go with her, but then they’d part ways and he’d finish what was started centuries ago. He truly hoped that his ending would mean the end of the crocodile as well, but that remained to be seen until he got to Storybrooke and assessed his options. Fortunately, he was a patient man when the occasion called for it.

A groan broke him from his rumination. His eyes instantly flicked to her as Emma slowly came to awareness. Worry for her well-being overtook him much to his irritation. Killian remained silent as she got her bearings, quickly pocketing the bean from her sight. 

The first thing Emma was aware of when she returned to consciousness was the stiff, aching pain shooting up and down her back. Her lungs breathed sharply and painfully as she adjusted her body in order to see her surroundings. The sun was higher in the sky and the waters of Lake Nostos not far from her. But where was everyone else? What happened to the portal?

“Afternoon, princess.” Hook’s tone had bite to it. “Sleeping the day away while the rest of us commoners have work to do?”

Confused as to why he was angry, Emma turned her attention to the pirate captain sitting near her. His eyes were hard and that muscle in his jaw ticked with irritation. What the hell happened while she was unconscious? “Hook, the portal.” It was hard to talk through the pain. Damn, she’d kill for a bottle of Aleve and an ice pack. “What happened?”

He hated seeing her in pain, wishing there was more he could do, and he hated himself for fucking caring about her. “It closed. Everyone else fell through and we remain stranded.” 

Emma eyed him, knowing he was holding something back. What was going on with him? Was it because he lost his chance at revenge? No, that couldn’t be it. Killian had the bean and he was intelligent enough to know the waters would fix the bean. After all, he’d done so in the original timeline. “You healed the bean. We have that, and I’m sure the Jolly is docked somewhere close by.” 

Killian stared at her for a long, scrutinizing moment. “I never told you I had a ship or her name.” 

“If I’m going to tell you how I know about the Jolly or that you’d use the waters on the bean, then we’re going to need a lot more rum than what’s in your flask.” Emma sighed. “How far to your ship?” 

“Too far for you in the state you’re in.” Killian said. “How are you feeling?” His tone was neutral, but Emma saw the worry in his eyes. 

“I’ll live.” Emma sighed. She didn’t feel like bones were broken, but she certainly felt beaten up. “Don’t worry about it. The sooner we get to the Jolly, the sooner I can tell you everything.” Emma pushed herself up unsteadily. 

In a flash, Killian was next to her, supporting her with an arm around her waist, just below the spot where most of the pain was centered. “You can’t walk in your state.”

“What are you going to do, carry me?” Emma arched a brow. “I know I’m lighter than the rum barrels you’re used to, but I doubt you’d be able to carry me from here to your ship.” 

The back of his neck prickled as her words unsettled him. Shaking himself, Killian had an idea. “Perhaps not, but you know how to teleport, don’t you?” It was a guess, but he knew Emma wasn’t entirely incapable. 

Emma eyed him, surprised he hadn’t cottoned on sooner that she wasn’t entirely new to magic. “I’m still working on teleporting myself, but I’m an export at teleporting hooks.” Her joke only earned a raised eyebrow from him. Sighing, Emma explained. “I can’t teleport to somewhere I’ve never been, but fortunately for us, I’ve been on the Jolly before. I’ve never teleported myself and someone though, so hold tight.”

She’d been on the Jolly before? Killian’s confusion only grew as Emma tightly wrapped her arms around him. Shaking himself, he leaned into her personal space with a smirk. “Don’t worry about getting too handsy, love.” He tightened his hold around her waist, though kept his hand in an appropriate spot.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Flirt away, Hook. We’ll talk about what’s eating at you later. Let’s just get going.” 

How did she read him so well? His smirk fell and he pulled back, though allowing her to still lean on him for support. He’d get his answers soon enough, he hoped.

“Close your eyes. Think of your quarters on the Jolly.” Emma whispered in her ear.

Killian’s arms wrapped around her as he followed her command. 

Emma took a breath and reached out for her magic, hoping she had enough energy left to try something like this. Pushing away her worry over teleporting farther than she’d ever tried before, Emma concentrated on picturing the Captain’s quarters on the Jolly. The bed in it’s wooden frame. The slanted beams which divided the windows. The small table that seated four. Take us to the Jolly. She told her magic and it responded in kind. 

Her body floated away in a whisky white cloud, though even as she became nothingness, she held tight to the nothingness Killian became. It wasn’t long before she felt herself solidifying and her feet were on hard ground. Opening her eyes, she found herself in his room on the Jolly, Killian himself in her arms. Sighing in relief, Emma released her hold and stepped back. Her vision swam suddenly and her feet gave way, but she didn’t hit the ground. 

Killian lifted Emma in his arms, depositing her onto his bed. “Sleep, Emma. You need your rest.”

“Home.” She mumbled before her eyes fluttered closed. 

Killian swallowed, wondering when exactly Emma visited his ship and her strange words. She was an enigma he was going to figure out. 

For now though, he’d find food, and maybe have a drink or two. 

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

At the end of the school day, Liam and Henry watched Grace walk away with her father, a skip in her step. 

Liam hated the bitterness festering in his heart. Where was his papa? Why couldn’t he reunite with him? Why did Grace get her father back and he was stuck alone?

Henry put a an arm around Liam. “It’s okay, Liam. We’ll find your dad too. I promise.” 

He wished he had Henry’s optimism. Every day that passed, Liam lost hope that his father was even in Storybrooke. They’d never be reunited. As kind as Henry and David were, and as much as Henry reassured him that Liam had a place in their family, Liam felt doubt creep in his bones. Was he an orphan after all? “What if we can’t find him?” 

“Then you’ll stay with us.” Henry answered confidently. 

Liam wasn’t so sure. 

The boys made their way towards the bus. 

Not wanting to think about his lack of parents, Liam changed the subject. “Did you figure out what’s going on with your book?”

Henry’s nose wrinkled. “No. It’s weird though.” He hopped onto the bus with Liam and they headed towards the middle seats they often occupied. “The new pages aren’t exactly stories from what I can tell.”

“What are they then?” Liam asked as they sat down.

“Honestly, it reads like a history book.” Henry said. “Something about Arcana, Arcanum, darkness, powerful magic. It all sounds long ago, like it’s a history of magic.”

“What’s Arcana and Arcanum?” Liam asked. 

“No idea.” Henry said. “I haven’t had time to really sit and read over everything. I don’t think it’s English though. Like some words are, but other words I can’t figure out.” Henry wasn’t sure, but from the little bit he picked up, it was as though the new pages were in multiple languages, but why? Who would write a history book where every sentence wasn’t fully in one language? 

“Is there a title page somewhere?” Liam tapped on his knee, ready to get back to the loft and hide away from his thoughts. 

“Not that I found.” Henry shrugged. “I wonder if Grandpa knows anyone who can read other languages.” 

Liam arched a brow. “What about Google? I mean, wouldn’t the internet be easier?” 

Ironically, Henry hadn’t thought about that. He knew the Enchanted Forest had English, but did they have all the same languages as the Land Without Magic, or could some languages be different? “It’s not a bad idea. It makes sense that if English exists in the Enchanted Forest, then other languages would too. I still think we should try and find Pinocchio too. Like I said, he changed the book once, so maybe he knows what’s happening now.”

“It couldn’t hurt.” Liam agreed. “Where can we start looking?”

“Well from what I overheard at Granny’s, Marco is still looking for him.” Henry said. “So he’s avoiding his dad. He’s hiding, but I wish I knew why.”

“He’s a former puppet, right?” Liam asked. “Maybe he’d be comfortable in the woods with his cousins Oak and Pine.”

Henry snorted at the joke, but Liam made a good point. The woods were vast and there was plenty of places to hide. 

Before long, the bus reached their stop on Main Street and the boys got off.

“Henry!” 

Henry’s head whipped towards the sound of Snow White’s voice. 

Snow and David stood nearby, both smiling widely, David’s arm around Snow’s shoulders. 

“Grandma!” He ran up to her, throwing his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. “You’re back!” Excitement overcame him. Grandma was back, which meant Mom was back. He grinned up at her. “Where’s Mom? What was the Enchanted Forest like? Did you beat Cora?” 

As he volleyed his questions, Snow’s face fell. She and David shared worried looks, bracing themselves for how Henry would react.

Liam walked over cautiously, standing near David. 

Snow chewed the inside of her lip as she pulled back, being sure to meet Henry’s eyes. “Henry, I’m so sorry. Cora kept Emma from the portal. She’s still in the Enchanted Forest.” 

Henry’s stomach dropped. “What?” What did she mean his mom was still in the Enchanted Forest? No, she was supposed to come home. 

Seeing Henry’s distress hurt Snow’s heart. Some mother she was; her daughter was abandoned once again. If only she’d been faster and gotten to Emma before falling through the portal. She couldn’t even find relief in the fact that Emma wasn’t alone since she wasn’t entirely sure Hook could be trusted with her daughter. Snow truly hoped Emma was right about trusting Hook, and that the pirate would get her daughter home somehow. “Henry, I’m so sorry. Even though she’s not home, we know she’s alive and I know she is going to find another portal home because all she could talk about was trying to find a way home to you.”

David knelt before Henry, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Your grandmother is right. Nothing is going to stop your mom from finding her way home. Remember, our family always finds each other.”

His throat was too tight with emotions to speak, so Henry nodded yes for his grandparents’ sake. While he believed Snow and David’s words, it wasn’t the same as having his mom back with him. Where would she find another portal? How long would it take? Henry swallowed as his grandparents pulled him into a hug. 

Liam remained off to the side, watching the exchange awkwardly. While he felt bad for Henry, since his mom still wasn’t home, anxiety festered in his gut now that Snow White was back. What if Henry was wrong? What if they decided to put him out on the street? They didn’t owe him anything and it’s not like he was paying his way or pulling his weight.

When Snow and David released Henry, Snow turned to the young boy David had told her about. Her heart ached to find out that Liam had been on his own with no one to take care of him, wearing ragged clothes and starving. While she hoped they could find his father, Liam was more than welcome to stay with them for however long he needed. Noticing how nervous the boy seemed, Snow smiled warmly, and stepped closer to him. “Hello, Liam. I’m Snow.” 

“Hello, ma’am.” He mumbled shyly. 

“Oh please call me Snow.” She put an arm around him. “You’re family now after all.” 

Her words surprised him. Did she mean it or was she just saying that to comfort him and put him at ease? Looking at her welcoming expression, Liam felt that perhaps Henry was right, and that he was slowly becoming an accepted member of this small little family. “Okay.” He said, though it sounded small. He was starting to hope that Henry was right, but there was still a part of him that couldn’t quite believe in their words and reassurances. He wasn’t sure if he would ever feel secure again, even if they ever found his papa. He’d been alone so long that it would take time to get used to being a part of a family again. 

“How about family dinner at Granny’s?” David suggested. “Milkshakes all around.”

His suggestion at least got a smile out of both boys. As the four of them walked to Granny’s with the boys walking ahead, Snow and David looked at each other concerned, both worried about how Henry was taking the news. 

They knew that Emma would find her way home, but they hoped it would be sooner rather than later. 

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

It was dark out as Emma came to, finding herself in Killian’s bed, fully clothed and still sore along her backside. Gingerly, she rolled over onto her side, facing the rest of the room. 

Killian sat at the table, watching her. His eyes were curious as he took her in; Emma was certain he had more questions than she was ready to answer. 

Her eyes flicked away, landing on the table, where a few jars of pickled vegetables and a plate of hardtack rested on the table. A bottle of rum and two glasses were set out. 

Emma’s stomach rumbled, so carefully, she slipped out of his bed and limped to the table. 

“How are you feeling?” Killian asked. He was proud of himself for sounding completely neutral. His feelings were a jumbled mess at the moment; as Emma slept, he thought over his entire life thus far and didn’t like his analysis. Again, his anger wanted to lash out at the woman who made him question everything, but at the same time, he knew it wasn’t fair to Emma to put all of this on her. 

Emma grabbed the rum first, pouring it in her glass to the rim.

Killian raised an eyebrow. 

Emma shrugged. “I told you, we’re going to need a lot of rum for this conversation. Plus, my back is killing me and you don’t have pain killers.” She took a hefty gulp before surveying the jars before her and loading up her plate. 

Killian surveyed her curiously. Emma seemed to know things, but if it was just a part of her magic, why were they going to need the rum? Just what was he about to learn about this infuriatingly intriguing woman? He too began to eat, wondering when he’d get his answers. 

For her part, Emma mulled over where to even begin with such a conversation. Time travel was hard for her to believe and she’d done it twice! Killian tended towards skepticism as she did, though he was more optimistic than she was most of the time. She knew she needed to be honest; there weren’t going to be any secrets between them. Not if she could help it anyway. The thing was, should she let him ask his questions first or tell him everything and then he could ask? It might be easier to give him the full story, but it was a lot to take in. 

After a while of them eating in silence, Killian finally spoke. “You said you’d tell me everything. What exactly is everything?”

Emma paused, unable to look him in the eyes, not wanting him to read her as he often easily did. Starting from the beginning would be easiest, he’d have all the details… “Okay. Well, I have a lot to go over.” She started. Deep breaths, Emma. “But I need you to listen and save your questions until I’m done, all right?” It would be easier to tell him everything without interruptions. 

Killian could only nod as anxiety settled in his stomach. “All right.”

“So, here’s how this story goes.” Emma began by telling him how Henry found her in Boston and how he brought her to Storybrooke. She spoke of her animosity with Regina, her deal with Gold for Ashley’s baby, Graham’s death, her ascendency to Sheriff, her kidnapping, Snow’s brief imprisonment, Henry almost dying, slaying the dragon, and breaking the Curse. 

He listened intently to her tale. 

“Now, the thing is, when Mom and I came to the Enchanted Forest the first time around, things were different.” Emma carried on. 

The first time around? Killian wanted to ask the question aloud before remembering Emma’s request. 

“So, originally, when we went to my parents’ castle, you and Marian weren’t with us.” Emma said. She saw how curious he was, and hoped he’d let her get everything out first. She weaved her tale of Killian working with Cora, the first trip on the beanstalk, her betrayal of him and his going back to Cora, the first battle of Lake Nostos, how she thought she left him behind, how he used the bean the first time around to follow her to Storybrooke. Emma spoke of his attempts at revenge failing, Henry’s kidnapping, their journey to Neverland, their first kiss, the journey home. “Pan followed us and cast the Dark Curse. Henry couldn’t go to the Enchanted Forest, so he and I were left behind. A year later, you found us and brought us home.” 

Wicked witches, flying monkeys, and their own time travel experience came next. Then Emma told him about the Snow Queen and Elsa and how the Dark One controlled his heart before he was banished from Storybrooke. 

Emma swallowed thickly as tears gathered in her eyes. Now came the hard part. “After Elsa left, there weren’t any villains around. It was peaceful. You and I had dates. You were a part of family dinners and movie nights with my parents and son. Hell, I think Dad was starting to see you as his best friend.” Emma sniffed. “We told each other everything. I told you about my childhood, Henry’s father, things that I never shared with anyone.” Her throat caught. “You told me about Liam and Milah, about things you did working for Pan, about your father…” She closed her eyes. “We didn’t have secrets.” Tears started falling freely. Opening her eyes, Emma couldn’t look at Killian as she remembered his lifeless eyes. “We were heading home and there was this building that burned. The owners hired contractors to fix it and they left crap everywhere. When we passed by it…” Come on, Emma. You can do this. You can tell him. 

“A brick fell and hit you on the head.” Her lips trembled as she held back sobs. “You were right next to me one second and then…then you were gone. There was so much blood.” Her emotions wanted release, but Emma held back, knowing she needed to finish telling him. “When I realized you were dead,” She choked on the word. “I begged you to wake up. I wanted you back so badly. All I could think about was how we just found each other after all the time I wasted pushing you away.” Finally, she found the strength to look at him. It surprised her that his own eyes were glassy, clearly holding back his own emotions. She figured her tale overwhelmed him and adding on that he died might’ve been too much for him. “I passed out. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the Enchanted Forest. I somehow, without a spell, or portal, or potion, time travelled fifteen months into the past. I couldn’t tell you how I did it, but all I can figure is that I wanted you back so much, that my magic responded.” Emma met his eyes. “I love you so much that I couldn’t live in a world where you didn’t exist.”

She sniffed again, wiping away her tears. “So, I decided that I wasn’t going to waste time. I was given a second chance, so I took it. I changed things. Maybe I shouldn’t have and maybe I’m playing God or something.” Emma shook her head. “I don’t know, but I do know that it doesn’t matter now.” Clearing her throat, she leaned forward, carefully taking his hand in hers. “What I do know is that no matter what, time traveling, changing the past, all of it is worth having you back. You’re worth it, Killian.” 

Killian could only swallow as a whirlwind of emotions overwhelmed him. Everything Emma spoke of was hard to believe, but in a world of magic, it wasn’t entirely impossible. But she time travelled for him? Because she loved him? That was much more improbable. He was a villain and his revenge was all he needed. How could someone clearly as good and light as Emma want anything to do with him, let alone love him so strongly that her magic acted out of her control as it did? “I…Time travel?”

Emma nodded. She pulled back, watching him, waiting. It was too much to take in, she knew. He’d need time. Hell, he’d need space. She’d have to give it to him. She promised no secrets, but she also wasn’t going to push him before he was ready. Changing the past or not, Emma wasn’t going to manipulate him into loving her. He needed to come to that on his own. He needed to give up his revenge on his own. “Yes. I still have a hard time believing it and I’m living through it.” 

Killian closed his eyes, massaging his temple, hoping to push away the beginnings of a headache. “You time traveled fifteen months in the past, because I died. Because you love a version of me?” He wasn’t under any illusions that his present self earned any affection from her.

“I love the man you could be.” Emma said. “But I’m not going to force you. You have a choice.”

“My revenge or you?” He snarled, defensive. He was already questioning his life choices and he didn’t want a guilt trip added to that. 

Emma flinched at his tone. “No. You can choose to live your life and let go of your pain and heal. Or, you can pursue your revenge and die and be reunited with Milah in the afterlife.” As much as it hurt to say, she couldn’t force him to let go of his revenge. It was his choice before, and it needed to be his choice now. 

Killian scoffed. “You time travelled to save me, and now you don’t care if I live or die?” He found that hard to believe. 

“No, I do care.” Emma snapped. “I want you to live, but I’m not going to make your choices for you and have you resent me for the rest of your life. You need to decide for yourself who you want to be and what life you want to live.” She leaned back, crossing her arms over his chest. “If you go after Rumplestiltskin, yes, I’ll be devastated, but I refuse to watch you die again. So you and I are going to Storybrooke tomorrow, and then we’ll part ways. You can find me when you make your choice.” 

Her passionate words stirred something in him, but Killian shoved it all down. He truly disliked the way this woman made him feel. 

Emma lost the rest of her appetite, so she grabbed her glass and the bottle of rum and stood. “I know it’s a lot to take in.” He wasn’t the only one overwhelmed with everything. For the first time in a week, she had a chance at privacy, and she was going to take it. “I think I’ll hunker down in the crew quarters for tonight. I’m taking the rum for my back. You have plenty more if you want to drink your problems away.” Okay, low blow since she knew he struggled with alcohol since he was a preteen, but she was tired, sore, and wanted to be alone. Killian wasn’t the only one who lashed at when in pain. 

Killian didn’t watch her leave. His eyes stared at the table, trying to process it all. Emma loved him, or a future version of him at least. One who gave up his revenge for her after only knowing her a few weeks. Three-hundred years he spent in the Hellscape that was Neverland, doing Pan’s grotesque bidding, searching for any means to kill the Dark One without becoming the very creature he hated, all for the woman he believed to be his truest love, and now this captivating stranger strode into his life only to tell him that he gave up everything he fought and suffered for for her? Killian couldn’t understand it. How could he just let it all go?

Worst of all, from how Emma spoke of the future, the Dark One still lived. 

He stood and walked over to his cabinets, where more rum was stored, took out another bottle, and took a rather large, bitter swig, anger running through his veins. Anger at himself for being weak and at Emma for apparently having so much power over him. Agitated, Killian stood and began to pace the length of the room. His future self told Emma everything; did that mean she knew about his childhood as a slave? Did she know about the scars he carried, physical and invisible? She knew about Liam. She knew Killian goaded him, leading to his death, that he was responsible. His skin crawled thinking about how much Emma knew when he knew so little about her. He hated it. He felt…exposed. 

Then there was the fact that Milah apparently meant nothing to him after all. His stomach twisted. Why did he always fail everyone he loved? Killian gulped down more rum, until the bottle was empty. His hand acted before his brain did and the bottle soared through the air, shattering against the wall. A scream of anguish left him, echoing throughout the ship as he fell to his knees. 

In the crew quarters, Emma sobbed, letting out every emotion she’d been holding in since Killian’s death. Her body shook as she cried for the future she lost, the possible future she would have now, losing Killian, losing Killian again if he decided on a different path, everything hit her all at once. Emma had been alone in her life many times, but the despairing loneliness that gripped her now put all of her past to shame. She was adrift at sea with only hope to guide her and she wasn’t sure of that was enough. 

It was too late to go back to the beginning. She made her choice and now she and everyone else would have to live with it for better or worse. 

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

They watched the sunrise from the roof of the library. The young man with his mother’s blue eyes and dark hair and the woman with their father’s curls and brown eyes sat together overlooking the sleepy little town. 

“Don’t get too giddy.” The young man said to his older sister. “The Captain and the Savior will find their way back to Storybrooke.” The pair always were too clever and resourceful. It proved rather infuriating in the past…or future as it were. 

“I know.” She grinned. “And when they get here, we’ll kill them. Or, well, we’ll make it accidental. Like the brick in the last timeline.” She giggled at all of the fun ways to kill the Truest of Love couple. 

He turned to his sister. “You aren’t concerned as to why we have to time travel to kill him again? You don’t think they changed the past in our stead?” They could too. After all, despite his sister’s confidence, Light Magic often won out. Particularly the Arcanum. He shuddered at the thought of the power of the entire Arcanum coming down on them. 

“They follow the rules.” She huffed. “It will be too detrimental for them to time travel as well. Even if they did, they’d try to change very little.” 

“They might not if it means correcting what we’ve done.” He countered. “This is a dangerous game we’re playing. The Grand Design…”

“Oh don’t be so serious.” She chided, pouting. “We have the darkest of magic on our side. We were meant to rule over these plebeians and we will make sure father lives this time to aide our rise to power.”

He wished his sister took the threat of the Arcanum more seriously. “You forget that there are more of them. Particularly the Seventh.” Did she forget how sacred seven was to magic? How much power seven held?

“He won’t do anything to alter history too much.” She was adamant in her beliefs. The Arcanum wouldn’t break the rules of magic. They were confined by them. She and her brother were above them. It was that simple. 

“If it means protecting his family, ensuring that the Savior and her happy ending live on…”

“You doubt our plans.” She stood angrily, cutting off her brother.  “We are this close to achieving our goals. We just need to get rid of…”

“I don’t doubt our plans or you, sister dear.” He corrected. “I just worry that you underestimate them.” 

She scoffed. “You fear them, you mean?”

“I have a healthy respect for their power.” He said. He too stood. “Come on then. Let’s see what Snow White and her prince are up to. If they come, they will seek out allies.”

The sister nodded and the pair teleported away in whirls of black smoke. 

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

It was well past sunrise when Emma went up to the deck, ignoring the pounding headache from the rum. Killian wasn’t anywhere to be found, so she assumed he was probably sleeping off his own hangover in his room. 

Emma walked to the bow of the ship, looking out over the sparkling sea. Sleep hadn’t come easy last night. After her crying ceased, anxiety and doubt kept her tossing and turning and when she dozed off, nightmares plagued her. The rum only numbed the pain in her back, not the one in her heart. She finally gave up around sunrise, lying in her misery as her mind mulled over every decision she made since her arrival to the past. Even though she saved Killian, what was the cost? 

Regina once told her that it was Dark Magic that had a price. Light Magic, so long as it was used for good, only put good out into the world. It was a balance. 

Dark Magic ate away at the user, darkening hearts, corrupting good, while Light Magic only reinforced the goodness of a being. However, with the good came a higher price. Should a user of Light Magic use their magic for evil, then they’d become the darkest of magic users. Light and Dark were antithesis after all. Light couldn’t be used for evil and Dark couldn’t be used for good. It was how Regina explained her magic weakening over the months of her using it for good. 

“I’ve used only Dark Magic my entire life.” Regina said. “Since I’ve been using it for good, it wants to transform into Light Magic. Of course, I slip up and use it for bad, and I’m back where I started. Transitioning from Light to Dark is quick and overwhelming because of temptation. It’s a powerful, corrupting force. It’s addicting. It is an addiction. Going from Dark to Light is harder. It’s like being an alcoholic. You kick it for a bit, but if you aren’t careful, you fall off the wagon. Then you have to start your sobriety all over again. It’s a constant struggle. Since I’m in the midst of it, my powers are weakened from going back and forth. It took me years to build up my Dark Magic and my heart is still darkened. It will take more years for that darkness to go away and for me to grow stronger.”

Emma wondered if her time traveling with her Light Magic was fueled by a dark intent. Selfish, sure, but did selfish mean dark? Would she pay a price for what she’d done? 

She didn’t know and that worried her as much as what would happen between her and Killian now did. Emma sighed, leaning against the railing, feeling the weight of the world crushing down on her. She felt as though she was Atlas, serving her punishment for her going against fate. Maybe. Was fate even really a thing? Her mother liked to think so. Emma heard Snow’s spiels on fate, True Loves, and happy endings often enough. 

Was Killian fated to die, or was she fated to time travel and save him? That was the question. 

So lost in her thoughts, Emma didn’t hear him come onto the deck or his footsteps as he walked towards her. “Doubloon for your thoughts, Swan?” His voice was soft, uncertain, but it still startled her. 

“Hey.” Emma held herself, standing back from him, unsure of where they stood. 

Killian scratched behind his ear, looking away from her. He drunk himself into unconsciousness last night and his head throbbed him into a wakeful state. He took a potion to cure his hangover, and with that came a clarity of thought. He wasn’t sure he wanted to follow in his future self’s footsteps, he wasn’t sure if he wanted a life with her, but he wallowed in his revenge for so long, Killian wondered if it blinded him. Was the life he lived one Milah would’ve wanted for him? Would she want him to have killed, maimed, kidnapped, stolen in her name? 

Killian second guessed every choice he made and where it led him. He wanted to hate Emma Swan for the way he doubted himself and his path, but his heart was too tired. He was tired. And Emma needed to get home to her family. “Are you ready to go?” 

Emma nodded. “Yeah.” She pulled the bean from where it rested in her pocket. Without a thought, she handed the bean over to him. 

Killian fingered it gently, remembering the last time he used one. Shaking his head, he pocketed the bean. “Let’s weigh anchor and sail further out.”

Emma nodded. It didn’t take too long as Killian expertly guided his ship away from the harbor, further into the ocean. Emma took a steadying breath as he threw the bean. 

The swirling portal slowly expanded and Killian sailed his ship straight on into it.

Emma held onto the railing tightly. She was going home and the unknown all at once. 

It was time to brave a new future. Maybe she was strong enough, maybe she wasn’t, but she was going to find out one way or another. 

[cs-fox]

more more more cut bench!simon because I love him and the guy I based him on didn’t come to work last night </3

You’d been trained to work on cut bench during Simon’s absence (“sick” - when he said it, it sounded a hell of a lot more like “hungover”). You actually weren’t half bad, so when he turned up, he was a little surprised to see you taking his place.

‘Alright, move over,’ he said after a beat, but you shook your head. ‘Nah. I’m cutting tonight,’ you clarified, trying to hide your grin.

‘You’re joking?’

Though he didn’t seem mad, just amused, as he dropped an apron over his head and chuckled.

It was a Sunday, so pretty slow business, which meant there was nobody rostered to take care of phone calls and counter orders. John, your shift runner, had asked if yourself and Simon were okay to answer the phone if it rang.

Taking phone calls was one of your least favourite parts of the job, but you still agreed.

And that’s how you ended up next to Simon at the counter, his hand dangerously close to your waist as he leant on the benchtop, phones nestled in the crooks between your neck and shoulder.

You didn’t even notice that he was finishing up his call when both of your hands reached for the card terminals; his huge mitt completely encasing your slender fingers as Simon tried to key in $30-50.

You tried to snatch your hand away, but he held it there, four fingers interlaced with yours and one typing in the customer’s card number.

A boiling hot blush crept across your cheeks as you mumbled apologies down into the phone, this wasn’t the first time a boy had touched your hand - why were you so flustered?

Heavier relief you’d never felt when he finally put down the phone, only to be replaced by panic when his back pressed up against yours, arms effectively caging you in against the counter as you weakly asked for Thomas’ - the man on the other end of the line - card number.

‘Alright there, baby?’ Simon asked, as if for all the world he was just training a newbie, like he was helping you take a call.

‘M fine,’ you mumbled, ‘2-7-7-7, 1-8-8-2.’

His hips shifted slightly against yours, God, he’s lucky there’s nobody else in store - and you shuddered, trying to finish the phone call as quickly as possible.

‘Thanks mate, have a great night,’ you said quickly into the phone, all but slamming it down on the receiver. ‘Simon - ’

‘What’s up?’

‘Can you… move…’ the last part was a weak, mumbled request, so much so that he laughed softly.

‘I don’t think I will.’ you gazed up at his face, eyes tracing over his angular jaw, thick neck, and heavily lidded brown eyes, and you couldn’t muster a smart reply.

And it was all you could do, after all, when you felt his lips make warm contact with your cheek, you gasped, revelling in the feeling of Simon’s smirk against your skin.

____________________________________________

yeyyeyeyeyey

:]

[donteattheappleshook]

Not Broken At All Chapter 16/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated E

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Oh hey, remember me? Remember this story I haven't updated in a year…… Please don't hate me lol Sorry for how long this took - this chapter was just impossible to write and time just kept passing. I'm hoping there won't be such a long break again but I know better than to make promises.

Hopefully some of you are still reading this and enjoy this new chapter!

Note that I made a small change to the last chapter (which fixed this one). You don't have to read it, just know that the lost boys who died on the beach are still out there.

Anyway… here you go! Sorry!

Thank you as always to @the-darkdragonfly for letting me just throw ideas at you about this story all the time and putting up with all the changes! 💕💕 And thank you @kmomof4 for looking this over and helping me decide on the ending 💕 (You can blame her! I kid... mostly)

Small content/trigger warning: This chapter includes more of the aftermath of the hunt. There are no children actively hurt in this chapter but there are bodies and burials and grief.

*******

Part 16

“Mom?”

The thundering of her heart rips her from sleep, hollow and echoing with the blood rushing in her ears, painful in her chest. But there’s only darkness in the small room of the ship, eyes wide and unfocused, the remnants of a dream she can’t remember still making shapes in the dark. She could have sworn she heard it, like it was there in the room with her. But there's no one here - only Killian still in the bed next to her, the arm that had held her close before now outstretched beneath her as he sleeps. A dream. Neverland playing tricks on her - or one of the lost boys above deck calling out to the dark for their mother. 

“Momma?” That one’s real, quieter. One of the children must have found a way down, wandering the halls looking for someone he’ll never find. “Mummy…” That one is heartbreaking. She rises from the bed, Killian not stirring as she slips from the sheets and makes her way quietly across and out of the room. The boys were told not to come down here - better she find whoever it is than one of the pirates. “Mom?” There’s no one there to accompany the sound in the dim light of the lantern outside the cabin and she hesitates, looking towards where the disembodied voice came from. Whoever they are, it sounds like they’re making their way back to the deck on their own… “Mom?” 

The word cuts through her, paralyzes her, heart so tight in her chest she can’t breathe. Henry. She knows his voice - already so deeply ingrained in every part of her being after such a short time that hearing it now is like a piece of herself lost and calling out to be found. 

“Emma?” Softer, getting further away from her - losing him all over again. Her bare feet make no sound as she runs past the crew’s quarters, past the bosun’s room and the galley towards the deck. The door creaks wearily as she climbs the steps and opens it to the night air. The lost boys are asleep - all of them - every single one exhausted from the horrors of the day and she pads carefully through the bodies - sleeping and dead - searching. Henry’s not among them. The ship holds that eerie Neverland silence she can’t get used to, no crashing of waves or rustle of wind, the faint discordant song of the Lorelei the only hiss of sound as it floats in and out on the sea. 

“Mom?” 

Her eyes snap to the back of the Jolly. “Henry?” she hisses. 

“Mom!” Emma nearly stumbles over a sleeping child as she tries to catch up to him before he’s lost to her again. He found her. Of course he did, just like before. She should have known he would. She rounds the helm, heart pounding so violently it reaches the stern before she does. But there’s no one there, again, just an empty deck where a child should be, where her son should be. 

“Where are you?” There’s nowhere else to search, only the sea that surrounds them.

“Emma?” Wendy is standing in front of her, head cocked. “What are you doing up here?” 

She looks towards where her son should be, where the voice no longer calls out to her. There’s nothing there, no one, just the sleeping boys, just Will. 

“Did you see him?”

“See who?” 

“Henry. Did you see him? Did you see where he went?” 

“Henry? There’s no one else up here. It’s just me and the new recruits. You must have been dreaming.”

“I know what I heard. I know my son.” The other woman’s expression turns pitying and Emma’s shoulders tense. “I heard him.” 

Wendy’s frown deepens and when she speaks her voice has the same tone that hers had when she’d been trying to calm Hook in the hospital, the one you use to console a crazy person. “I’m sure you did.”

“It wasn’t a dream.” But even as she says it she starts to doubt her own words. There’s no sign of him, no sign that he was ever here. Wendy wouldn’t lie about that. 

She sighs. “I believe you.” She does, but she also doesn’t believe Henry’s on the ship either. Emma goes to the ship’s edge, careful not to trip over any sprawled limbs, and squints out at the beach against the sun that’s just starting to rise. Maybe he’s not on the Jolly. Maybe he’s somewhere out there. There’s no sign of him on the blood soaked sand and relief settles like a stone in her throat even as the fear of not knowing where he is rises up again. “Neverland plays tricks, Emma.” Wendy joins her at the bow, leaning against the rail, back straight and alert as she looks out at the carnage before them. “You can’t trust anything you hear. The shadows’ll do anything to lure you out.”

“The shadows?”

A nod. “They see into your dreams, see what it is you want most and use it against you. It’s how so many of the boys end up here in the first place.” Wendy’s shoulders sag a little, looking out at the bodies on the beach. It’s the closest Emma’s seen her come to breaking the hard mask she’s worn so well since the hunt started - the real person behind the cold captain. “And now they’ll never leave.”

“What happens to the bodies?” she asks, looking back at the dead, carefully wrapped in sheets on the deck.

“We bury the ones who made it here at sea. Neverland takes back the rest.” 

Emma frowns, eyes darting to the shore. “What do you mean it takes them back?” 

“They become the shadows that live in Dark Hollow, whispering to Pan, finding children, his way of keeping an eye on the outside world. He’ll come at sundown to collect them.” 

“They become the shadows?” she swallows, cold dread tasting bitter at the thought of all those kids having to become Pan’s creatures, forced to do his bidding forever. “The boys?”

Wendy nods and her stomach drops. 

“What about the ones who died here? Will they be shadows too?” 

She shakes his head. “Neverland magic can’t touch this ship. Whatever enchantment’s on it is powerful enough to keep even the darkness away.” Neverland can’t find you here. 

Emma hears her sigh when she looks back out at that beach. “Don’t even think about it.” She’s thinking about it. “He gets to keep his winnings. Those are the rules of the game. Those rules keep us alive.” 

She doesn’t answer, only gives the captain a small nod, thoughts still spinning with the cruelty of it all, that even in death these children can’t escape Pan. Wendy puts a hand on her shoulder, the gesture surprisingly consoling, the mask slipping again. “You’re not the only one who wishes it could be different.” 

Emma nods, grim and defeated, and Wendy pats her shoulder with a tight-lipped smile before turning towards where some of the children have started to stir. 

She wishes she could say she thought about it longer, or at all, really. But all she can think of is every single kid she knew growing up, all the ones who fell through the cracks, the ones who were given up on or abandoned, all the adults who threw up their hands and said there was nothing they could do - that was just how the system worked, that rules had to be followed. Fuck that. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” 

Wendy’s shout echoes above her, cut off by the water when she plunges into it. It takes her deeper than she expected it to, the fall further than she thought, but she kicks wildly, eyes burning against the salt until she breaks the surface. And then she’s swimming, boots and vest heavy against the waves, hat lost somewhere between the ship and the surface, but she keeps going. She can make this swim, she’s made it before - and she has a purpose now. 

She stumbles as she climbs onto the beach, the tide pulling at her knees and then her ankles like it’s trying to draw her back to where it’s safe. Emma fights it, running and slipping across the sand once it’s hot and dry beneath her feet and collapsing beside the first boy she finds. He’s tall and wiry, limbs stretched out, calf-like, not yet grown into his elbows and knees. And now he never will. 

She kneels beside him, stroking his cheek before closing his eyes. Salt water drips onto his skin, turning dried blood fresh again as she tells him she’s sorry - that this happened, that she couldn't do anything to stop it, that Pan gets to keep living. She doesn’t know how long she just sits there with him, looking out at all the other kids who won’t ever go home. 

“Swan…” No. She’s not going back - not leaving them here. She slides her arms under the boy’s shoulders, heaving his limp, heavy frame onto her chest, not sure how she plans to get him back to the ship, just that she will. “Swan.” She ignores it, digging her heels into the sand, trying to plant them under her enough that she can get to her feet. But it slips away beneath her boots and she falls on her ass again and again. She’s not leaving him here. She’s not leaving any of them here.

“Swan.” 

“What!” she snaps, barely looking up at him, wet hair plastered to his face, coat left behind, shirt soaked in water and salt. She can’t get her legs steady enough beneath her, can’t lift the kid any higher into her arms, so she starts to drag him back across the beach, holding tight to his chest as she makes it inch by inch, blonde head rolling limply against her shoulder. 

“Emma,” Killian says softly when she stumbles, she and the boy fall back against the sand. If he says her name one more goddamn time… His hand is gentle on her arm, stopping her as she moves to stand again and she looks up, ready for a fight, whatever she has to, but she’s taking this kid back to his stupid, magical ship where he can rest in fucking peace. 

But his gaze isn’t scolding, not a warning or even pity and he reaches for the boy in her arms, taking his weight from her and hoisting him over his shoulder. He fixes her carefully with a solemn, resolved stare when she stands to meet his gaze. “There’ll be consequences.” 

She looks back towards the shoreline where Will and Wendy are standing by the dinghy. “Do you care?” she asks him, turning to the others, “Do any of you care?” There are more coming out of the water now, pirates and lost boys marching onto the beach.

The residual anger fades from Wendy’s eyes, hardening into something different, and then she kneels beside a small body, this one looking too young to have been on this side of the hunt. “John didn’t make it off the beach,” is all she says before lifting him from the sand and meeting Emma’s eyes with equal determination. 

Will shrugs. “Pan already wants me dead,” he says, bending to pick up another child, cradling the boy to his chest. “Might as well be for a good reason.”

Slowly, the others begin doing the same, gathering the fallen, some searching for brothers, friends, others finding any they can carry. Emma follows Killian’s gaze to where two older kids come to the aid of a young boy trying to pick up a bigger body that bears him a painful resemblance - a brother no doubt. She doesn’t miss the way Killian watches them carry him across the beach, the younger boy not letting go of his brother’s sleeve. He’d lost his brother here as well, to Pan’s cruelty. She wonders how long ago it was, wonders if any amount of time matters. 

Emma follows Killian as he brings the tall boy’s body to the dinghy and sets him down gently. 

“So what now, Swan?” he says, turning to look at the Lost Boys gathering their fallen friends, “You’ve declared war on Pan. And these boys will follow you to the end now. Where will you lead them?” 

Emma spares another glance at the beach, at the pirates that were Lost Boys and the Lost Boys that will be pirates, all of them stolen from their lives and their families for Pan’s enjoyment. “Home. When this is over, and Pan is dead, we’re taking them home. All of them.”

“Aye,” he says, with an edge of something she can’t place in his voice, his gaze holding hers just a moment too long before he moves to collect another body, damp skin and drying shirt becoming stained with someone else’s blood. He hesitates, casting a glance back at her. “They aren’t the only ones who’ll follow you,” he tells her before turning and walking back towards the shore.

***

There are twice as many bodies on the deck as there had been last night, a sea of white cloth laid out on the bow of the Jolly like snowfall, twice as many ghosts wrapped in sheets waiting to be buried at sea. There are twice as many lost boys too, half of them no longer cowering by the edge of the ship’s rail, gazing longingly out at the island they’d just escaped. Instead they stand in rows, backs straight and heads bowed, already falling in line, already soldiers as they wait for their captain to speak. 

They’d sailed further from land than Emma’s been since they first arrived, the water deeper here, where no light can reach the depths even with the sun burning high and bright above them, and no shadows can be cast. “They’re weakest when the sun is at its peak, where the light can’t cast them further,” Wendy had explained. “At night though… at night the whole world is shadow.” 

Killian stands tense before them, Wendy and Will at his side, the two captains and their first mates. There’s something off in the line of his shoulders, in the way his thumb keeps sliding over the rings he wears. She’d seen him in the aftermath of the hunt, surrounded by the bodies, used to death and slaughter and cruelty. He’d held back then, composed and calm as always around the boys and young men that had survived. But as he looks at the sea of white, the cannonballs tied to their ankles that will drag them all down into the darkness where the shadows can’t reach them, she can see him losing that tenuous grip on his cool indifference. So can Wendy, if the hint of sympathy barely cracking through her own harsh disguise is anything to go on. 

When she thinks that he might not manage it, that his first mate might have to step in and take over, he lets out a bitter sigh. “Best not to draw it out.” Will steps forward, he and Killian lifting the closest body onto a plank balanced on the rail, held steady by two of the older crewmen - both barely out of their teens - preparing to tilt the body into the sea. 

Before he can raise his hand to signal the order, a small boy appears at his side, and Killian freezes. Emma hadn’t seen him break rank, hadn’t seen him make his way across the deck - no more than seven or eight years old.  She recognizes him, the one who’d been trying to carry his brother on the beach. She wonders what he could have possibly done for Pan to decide he’d had his fill of time in Neverland. 

The boy’s coat is tattered and dirty from however long he’d been in the jungle, and her reaches into it to pull something out, and then stretches as far as he can to reach across the body that’s nearly at eye level with him. And there, in the center of white sheet, he sets a baseball card down on the fallen boy’s chest. 

Emma doesn’t breath, the men holding the plank staring at the card, everyone on deck silent and frozen. The child moves to Killian’s side then, tugging at the thick leather of his sleeve until the captain leans down and gives the boy his attention. “Jack.” 

A strange sort of uncertainty falls over the crowd at the sound of the lost boy’s name. This is clearly not how things are done. Even the newest recruits shift uncomfortably - waiting. She watches the understanding settle in the line of Killian’s shoulders as he nods at the newest member of his crew. After a moment, one of the men who’d been holding the plank reaches out and tucks the card into the folds of the sail and then looks to his captain. Killian turns to the boy before nodding again.

“Jack,” he repeats, loud enough for everyone to hear.

There’s barely a splash as the body disappears beneath the surface, hardly a sound in that chilling stillness that Neverland possessed, but it resonates across the deck and Emma feels something shift. Wendy moves to help lift the next body onto the plank as Killian waits. A name is called from somewhere near the back, too quiet to place among the rows of former lost boys, but Killian repeats it as he had first one and there’s a moment of solemnness before another splash echoes across the deck. 

He names each of them -they all do - friends and brothers calling out to identify the fallen, to remember them before they’re laid to rest where Pan will never find them, where he’ll never hurt them again. 

***

“What do you think he’ll do?” 

Killian looks up at her standing in his doorway, shirt slipping over his head, catching on his hook. “Pan?” He sets to working the fabric free, hair windswept and sticking up at strange angles, skin still marked with the blood of the children he’d carried. 

Emma nods. He’d said there’d be consequences and she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since they’d gotten the last boy off the beach and onto the ship, his body wrapped in a sheet and sent to the depths with the others.

“I don’t know, but he won’t be happy.” 

She worries her lip between her teeth, casting a glance down the hall to the steps where overhead the boys are being introduced to their new life of piracy. “Darling makes ‘em spend days scrubbing the ship clean when they first come aboard. Says it ‘builds character’,” Will had explained. “Let it go already - it’s been nine years.” 

“Not having second thoughts, are you?” 

She shakes her head. She knows she did the right thing, that the children that died yesterday deserved some amount of dignity, of care, even in death, that those who lived deserved to see that they mattered, that they would be missed, that they wouldn’t be cast aside or forgotten. And that they wouldn’t be forced to be a tool in Pan’s neverending need for more playthings. 

“No, but I guess… I guess I didn’t consider that the consequences might not just be mine.” He could come for any of them. As far as Pan knows, she doesn’t exist. But Killian and Wendy, Will and everyone else on this ship could fall victim to Pan’s anger because of her. 

“Every person out there made a choice today, Swan. Something they haven’t been able to do in a very long time.” He finally gets the shirt free of his brace and lifts his gaze to hers. “Whatever consequences befall us now, the burden will be all of ours to bear. Not just yours.” He waits until she nods in agreement, then moves to dip his hand and hook into a basin, Emma watching as the water turns a murky red. “I will say though, Swan, I pity Pan for when he finally finds himself on the wrong side of your wrath. You’ve turned all of Neverland against him, even his own.”

“I think he did that himself when he tried to kill them.”

Killian shakes his head, grabbing a dampened cloth with his hook and scrubbing at the blood and sand dried to his hand. “The fact that they’d defy Pan and choose their fallen friends… the fact that half of them didn’t run for the treeline to beg him to take them back… You’ve changed something, love. You’ve done more for the creatures of this island in a week than any of us have managed in centuries.”

“I couldn’t just do nothing,” she mutters, crossing her arms and shrugging awkwardly. 

Killian gives a short, humourless laugh, avoiding her gaze, scrubbing harder as the cloth continues to slip from his hook. “Believe me, Swan, it’s very easy to do nothing.”

Emma takes a step into the room. “You didn’t do nothing.” 

“I didn’t do nearly as much as I could have.” 

“Stop it,” she scolds, crossing the space between them and taking the rag from him. He startles as she grabs his wrist, running the cloth over the blood caked into his palm. She knows her hair and clothes probably look just as bad - everyone out on the deck today carrying the stain of Pan’s cruelty on their skin. “You did what you could while staying alive. You can’t protect people if you’re dead. You can’t protect your crew, and you can’t protect the kids Pan sends your way if you’re dead.” He doesn’t have an answer to that. Good. 

They stand in silence as she finishes her task. When she can’t pretend to be cleaning the now non-existent blood anymore - the most stubborn bit finally wiped clean - when she can’t avoid saying what she came to say anymore, she sighs. “Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“I know you could have just as easily made me leave them there on the beach - that it probably would have been the safer choice.” 

She rests the cloth in his open hand, focusing on it instead of him. She’s not great at this ‘thank you’ thing, at people understanding her the way he had on the shore today. 

“I don’t think anyone could make you do anything easily, Swan,” he teases and she shrugs, matching his hesitant smirk. “And it may have been the safe thing to do, but it wouldn’t have been the right thing.” His fingers curl around hers, keeping her there and drawing her attention back to him. “I should thank you as well.” 

“For what?” she echoes, frowning. She’s pretty sure she’s done nothing but cause problems for him since she got here. 

“For reminding me that I can still choose to do the right thing. I’d started to believe I’d forgotten how.” 

Her frown deepens. “Killian, you’ve done the right thing since -'' always, she wants to say, since she met him and made him bring her back here. He’s done right by her and her son and everyone else here from the beginning. 

“Since you chained me to that bloody sick bed,” he finishes, smirking again even as he shakes his head in disbelief, thumb is stroking across her knuckles - she doesn’t think he means to be doing it. “I don’t seem to have the option where you’re concerned. It’s exhausting, really.” Emma does her best not to laugh, not when he takes a step closer, fingers curling more purposefully around hers, the metal of his ring cool against her skin as he drops the cloth, eyes focused on hers like he’s trying to find an answer in them.  Voice soft, the teasing gone now he breathes, “you’re a bloody marvel, Swan,” and he’s so damn close now that she can feel his words warm against her cheek, can smell the salt and leather and rum that clings to his skin even after a day like today. 

He doesn’t move and she can’t decide if she wants him to, if the pounding of her heart stems from a desire to have him close the distance between them or from fear of what it would mean if he did. He’s watching her like he’s trying to decide the same and the words come out before she can stop them.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” 

His brow quirks up in amusement, before it shifts into that smug arch that’s become so familiar. “I believe you’re the one who’s initiated all of our previous dalliances, love,” he points out and she can feel her face going hot because he’s not wrong - she’s been throwing herself at him every chance she gets since that first kiss that was meant to distract him. “But aye,” he continues before the embarrassment gives her time to second guess herself. His hand lifts to her cheek, thumb tracing over her lip. “If you’ve no objections…” 

She should have some objections - like that making out with the really hot, annoyingly heroic pirate that makes her feel all kinds of confusing things she doesn’t want to be feeling is a really bad idea. But her head shakes without her permission and then he’s leaning in, carefully and agonizingly slowly until his lips only barely brush hers, the taste and heat of his mouth leaving her aching for the promise of more. She’d accuse him of teasing, only it doesn’t feel like a tease, more like a question as his lips catch hers gently, chaste and slow before pulling away and hesitating a moment longer. 

Emma’s fingers reach to tangle in his hair as she resists the urge to pull him to her like she has in the past. He lets out a small sigh at her touch and she can almost taste it before his mouth is on hers again, kiss slow and deep, swallowing the small sound she lets out when his brace slides low across her back to draw her closer. He kisses her like they’ve never done this before, every brush of his lips and stroke of his tongue and exploration and she’ll never get over how strongly her body reacts to him and the all-consuming way his mouth claims hers. 

She breathes his name and he lets out a low growl, hand tightening in her hair, pulling her closer, teeth dragging over her lip like he can catch the sound before soothing it with his tongue. He walks them back across the room to the door, pushing it shut, cradling her head against the impact as he presses her into the wood, mouth not leaving hers. She’s taken aback for a moment by the gentleness of his touch, but then his lips leave hers to trail the length of her neck and the shuddering heat that burns her everywhere his tongue meets her skin has her arching into him, need pooling low in her stomach. 

Emma lets out a small whimper when he follows the line of her shirt to the swell of her breasts and Killian groans, pulling away, forehead resting against hers as they both pant into the space between them. “I don’t have the energy to do everything I want to do to you tonight,” he sighs.

“How about just some of it?” she asks and he laughs, hand tracing the same path his mouth had, stopping at the center of her chest, over her heart, and sounding as frustrated as she feels - but also just as exhausted. Today had been a trying day, even by Neverland standards, and they’re both weary and still covered in blood and dirt and sweat from the exertion. 

“I know,” she agrees with a sigh, even if she doesn’t like it. Her hands slide from where they’d woven themselves into his hair to settle on his chest, his skin warm and soft against the coarse hair, heart beating hard under her palm. “Can I…” He waits, gaze focused on her even as she looks at the floor. She hates feeling vulnerable, but with everything that’s happened, with what Wendy told her about the shadows, and the now growing threat of an angry, vindictive Pan she just… “Can I stay?” 

They hadn’t talked about it in the morning, about Emma coming to his room the night before, the ship so loud with the cries of those broken children thrust into adulthood too young, into piracy against their will. She’d been gone before he woke, chasing phantoms across the deck and jumping off ships and they’d pretended as though it had never happened. And she’d been grateful for that. It made her feel brave enough to ask now, to admit that she needed this.

He seems surprised by her question before an expression of gentle understanding softens his features. “Aye, love,” he nods, reaching to brush her probably wild and matted hair from her eyes. “I’d like that.” The hitch of her heart calms when she realizes that maybe he also doesn’t want to be alone tonight, that maybe he needs the comfort and safety of another person after all the tragedy they’ve seen these last few days. 

He kisses her again, soft and gentle and easing some of the dread that’s made a home in her chest since she left Storybrooke. She thinks he meant it to be chaste, but neither of them seem in any hurry to give up the press of his mouth against hers, the reassuring comfort of his heartbeat, beneath her palm, or the warmth of his calloused fingers against her cheek, the metal of his hook, cool and grounding on her hip. 

She lets it go on longer than she should for a kiss like this, one that isn’t building to anything else, that isn’t meant to excite or seduce but just to feel and savour something good for once, something easy. It’s the way she’d kissed him by the water on Solstice. It had been dangerous then and it was dangerous now. 

Still, Killian is the one to pull away first, Emma chasing his lips without meaning to before he clears his throat, cheeks flushed and an expression she can’t place in his eyes as they meet hers, like the one he’d worn in the brig - perhaps I would - and suddenly it’s all so much more than it was supposed to be, than it can or should be. He must sense it too because he takes a step back, fog still not fully cleared from his gaze as he straightens. 

“I should go ensure the crew are prepared for the night - that there’s a watch planned.” She peels herself off the door so that he can get by. “There’s hot water in the pitcher if you want to wash the day off,” he adds, waiting for her nod, returning it, and then darting out of the room. 

Emma sags back against the closed door. What the hell are you doing? She can’t be doing… this. Whatever this is. Not here, certainly not now when she should be focused on her mission, on her son, not when the last time she came close to this was… Her fingers brush over the boot laces tied around her wrist. Look how well that had ended. Look how well it always ends. 

By the time Killian returns she’s washed her hair and the worst of the grime from her skin before slipping under the covers in a stolen, clean shirt. She feigns sleep when she hears him move almost silently around the room, there’s the splash of water and the rustle of clothing as she forces her eyes to remain shut. It’s not until she knows he’s standing by the bed, hesitating, like he’s not sure he should still join her now that she’s ‘asleep’ - as though she didn’t ask him if she could spend another night in his bed- that she breaks her pretense. 

“Just get in, Killian.” There’s a pause, a stillness in the air before she feels the sheets move and the bed sag beside her as he slides in, settling on his side next to her but leaving enough room that there’s no risk of them touching. And it’s a palpable distance. “Do you… do you want to sleep alone?” she asks quietly, anxious now that this isn’t one of his frustrating gentleman streaks but that he’s changed his mind, that she’s imposing, asking too much of him. 

“No,” his voice is just as low as hers and she holds back a small sigh of relief. 

“Please don’t make me ask…” Emma feels him calm beside her, the awkward tension leaving him as he inches closer. His fingers ghost over her shoulder for a moment before he slides his arm around her waist and pulls her back against him.

“I’m here, Swan. You don’t have to ask.” The promise is breathed into her hair, lips pressing to the crown of her head as they had the night before and Emma shuts her eyes against the tears that burn at the edges of them. “You’re safe,” he tells her again, like he knows she needs to hear it, and she nods. She knows. Even as the cries of the lost boys drift into the room from above deck and the jungle beyond, she knows. 

She turns in his arms, tucking her hands beneath her cheek so she can see him, follow the outline of his jaw and neck in the moonlight that steals through the drawn curtains. Even his silhouette is beautiful, the light playing over the edges of his skin, turning it almost iridescent, and making her want to reach out and trace the curve of his bare shoulder and arm where the shadows suggest shapes in the dark. 

“You are too, you know.” Killian might be one of the bravest people she’s ever met, but she knows that Pan terrifies him. And today he pissed him off - because she asked him to. “If Pan wants any of you he’s gonna have to go through me first.” Bold words as they hide beneath the covers like children hoping they won’t be found.

She doesn’t have to see his eyebrow tick up to know that it is. “Aye?”

“I’m scarier than I look.” He bites down on a laugh or a teasing comment. Her fingers found their way to his elbow at some point - she hadn’t meant to. They follow the line of his bicep, his shoulder. “I can keep you all safe.” Her voice nearly breaks on the last word - because she has to. Henry, Killian, Wendy, Will, she needs all of them to survive this. She’s lost everyone she’s cared about. She won’t add them to the list.

His finger is gentle beneath her chin as hers dance across his collarbone and she lifts her gaze to the pale blue that shines even in the dim light. “We’ll keep each other safe then,” he offers like a compromise and she nods. She can do that. 

She doesn’t have to ask if he’s going to kiss her this time, and she doesn’t care enough to be conflicted by the fact that she wants him to - not here in the dark where her doubts can’t find her. His hand slides over her cheek, fingers tracing the shell of her ear to curl around the nape of her neck, like he’s mapping his way to her by touch. When he draws her in she goes willingly, mouth meeting his like muscle memory, the heat and feel and taste of him a familiar temptation that she could find blind.

He hums low in the back of his throat when her lips part beneath his in invitation, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue hot and slow against hers, using his hooked arm to pull her close, legs tangling beneath the sheets. She’s on goddamn fire as he continues to touch her with nothing but his hand in her hair, lips not straying from hers, and it’s not fucking fair because nobody should be able to push all of her buttons and make her want them so badly without even trying. And he’s not trying. This is just… how he is with her, how they are together and it’s maddening and intoxicating and she wonders if it’s always like this when you care. 

Fuck. The thought stops her. Fuck, she cares. She cares if he lives or dies - if something were to happen to him… If it happened because of her, she doesn’t -

“Are you alright, love?” The words are spoken against her lips. No, she’s absolutely not. But she’s not dealing with that right now. She doesn’t want to deal with how or why or when she ended up caring so fucking much, what it could do to her, like it’s done so many times before. She shakes her head, ignoring his question, both her arms wrapping around his neck to pull him back to her, mouth slanting over his in a silent sort of plea. He returns it, though his kiss is gentler than hers, softer and less urgent than it had been a moment ago and her heart and mind grow a bit less frantic. 

He changes the pace, slowing her, calming her, Emma sinking into the purposeful slide of his mouth and tongue and the tug of his fingers in her hair. He pulls away, their breath shallow and he finds her eyes in the dark again. The shadows don’t let her read his expression, but he must see something in hers because his hand slips from her hair, following the strands down her back to her waist where it flattens against her hip, slipping beneath the fabric of her stolen shirt. He moves so slowly, like he expects her to stop him, or he’s just giving her the chance to, but the heat of his palm trailing up her side is the most agonizing kind of torment and she bites hard on her lip to keep from begging as he inches across her skin.

When his hand finds her breast she lets him swallow the gasp that escapes her and the small curse she lets out when his thumb rolls over her nipple. She breathes his name when he continues to touch her, her nails digging into the back of his shoulders when he moves to nip and lick at the pulse point of her neck. He releases her only long enough to work the few buttons of her shirt open and then his mouth is on her breast and the room fills with her poorly silenced gasps and pleas as he teases her with teeth and tongue. 

She’s grateful when he kisses her again, just as his fingers trail over her stomach and dip between her legs, muffling the sound that would have alerted anyone still awake to exactly what was taking place in the dark of the cabin. His touch is fucking perfect, like he’d watched her in that fairy field where he talked her over the edge because ever stroke and curl and thrust is exactly what she likes, exactly what she needs and she knows it won’t take long. 

Killian falters when she reaches for him, fingers sliding into the soft, slippery fabric of his pants and finding him hard and straining in her hand. He bites out her name like a curse when she strokes him and he tries and fails to regain his composure. When her mouth claims his he groans into the kiss, his fingers matching the pace she sets with her hand on him and the roll of her hips. His thumb finds her clit and she bites his lip at the meticulousness of his touch, determined and fervid and she thinks he must be close too if he’s trying to send her over the edge so urgently.

Her free hand is vice-like in his hair, holding him to her as they whisper hushed gasps and curses into each other’s mouths and Emma has to turn her head into his shoulder, teeth sinking into his skin as she feels her climax building, hips rocking frantically as he brings her higher and higher. Her grip on his cock tightens, her strokes faster as she nears that edge. His words fall out in a choked mix of encouragement and pleasure, beard rough against her skin, breath hot on her neck, until she feels him tense against her. He groans a muffled ‘fuck, please, Swan,’ against her throat, fingers curling and urging and then she’s coming, back arching and her cry cut off by his mouth on hers before she feels him spill himself in her hand. 

“Fuck,” Killian curses, low and breathless in the stillness of the Neverland night. She doesn’t have any words, heart still racing and eyes still shut tight, her body feeling like it’s going to float away despite the heaviness in her limbs. She tugs his mouth back to hers with the grip she still has on his hair and the groan he lets out almost makes her feel bad, exhaustion and desperation and desire wrapped into one, low sound. 

He kisses her again, lips moving to her neck, her shoulder, her breast, and she’s about to warn him not to start something he can’t finish as the low hum of warmth settles over her skin, but then his fingers tug the edges of her shirt closed gently, pressing one last kiss to her mouth before standing and retrieving a cloth.

“Was that one of the things you had in mind?” she teases when she hands it back to him and he discards it. Her voice is still breathless and strained as he climbs back into the bed, sliding beneath the covers and taking her hand in his. She watches as he raises it to his lips, placing a kiss to the center of her palm and then weaving his fingers through hers. She tries not to let her heart grow frantic with the mix of fear and longing that surges when he lets their entwined hands rest in the bare space between them. 

“That was… wholly unexpected,” he rasps, thick with sleep and sex. She thinks his eyes are drifting shut, the strain of the day finally taking him even as his thumb strokes carefully over the back of hers, slower and slower as he’s pulled under. 

She watches him for a moment longer, making out the line of his brow and cheek in the dark, the steady rise and fall of his chest, more relaxed than she’s ever seen him. And as she pulls his hand to her mouth, lips settling against the cool metal of his rings, she knows exactly what he means. 

***

Emma wakes to a hand pressed firmly over her mouth, her eyes darting open in panic, muscles tensed, braced for a fight. But where she expects an intruder she finds only Killian, face close to hers, finger held to his lips, and she’d fucking deck him for scaring the shit out of her like this if it weren’t for the seriousness of his expression, the fear he just barely hides beneath the command. She knows that fear can only mean one thing, even before he whispers it into the darkness, eyes darting towards the ceiling, to the deck above them.

Pan.

******

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[4getfulimaginator2022]

[myfearless-love]

Too Well Tangled (Chapter 21/21 - "Untangling the Last Knot")

Chapters: 21/21 — "Untangling the Last Knot"

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Relationship: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Characters: Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Arthur (Once Upon a Time), Knave of Hearts | Will Scarlet, Robin Hood (Once Upon a Time), Mad Hatter | Jefferson

Additional Tags: Captain Swan - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Enemies to Lovers, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Emma Swan, Angst and Romance, Banter

Summary: Determined and tough-minded Emma Nolan is on a singular mission: to rescue her dim-witted brother from the clutches of Killian Jones, the infamously rakish Marquess of Hookstone. Little did she anticipate her own burgeoning desire for the audacious, unscrupulous scoundrel she intended to despise. Killian Jones, the enigmatic Marquess of Hookstone, has more than earned his sinister sobriquet, the "Prince of Darkness." His past, a stormy mosaic of rejection and rebellion, has forged a man both feared and revered. Yet, the indomitable Miss Nolan proves an unexpectedly formidable opponent for his infamous charm. But when Killian's reciprocated passion lands them in a scandalously compromising, and very public, predicament, Emma is left with no recourse but to demand satisfaction...

Previous chapters: ch. 1 II ch. 2 II ch. 3 II ch. 4 II ch. 5 II ch. 6 II ch. 7 II ch. 8 II ch. 9 II ch. 10 II ch. 11 II ch.12 II ch. 13 II ch. 14 II ch.15 II ch. 16 II ch. 17 II ch. 18 II ch. 19 II ch. 20

READ HERE: AO3

Preview:

BIG shout out to my amazing beta @xarandomdreamx for always catching my mistakes and leaving me smiling with her comments!!❤️

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(Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)

[searchingwardrobes]

Scarborough Fair: 11/?

I'm so excited, ya'll! This is it - the wedding chapter! And the wedding night, which means sexy times. I don't write smut, so it's super steamy and then fades to black. Buuut this may just be the steamiest thing I've ever written. So, enjoy!

And a reminder of Emma's wedding dress:

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Emma Swan has had a charmed life, despite being a foster child. She has a wonderful family who loves her, and the best friends in the world. The only thing that mars her idyllic existence is her birth mother: a homeless woman who mutters nonsensical rhymes and claims to be Snow White. One fateful night, however, Emma’s world is shattered. Perhaps her mother’s rhymes aren’t nonsense after all.

Rated: M for date rape, dubious consent, teen pregnancy, and sexy times (the good kind!)

Words: Over 3k in this chapter

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten

Also on Ao3

Tagging:  (let me know if you wish to be removed or added):  @snowbellewells@teamhook@kmomof4@jrob64@xhookswenchx-reads-blog@thisonesatellite@welllpthisishappening@spartanguard@ohmakemeahercules@tiganasummertree@sparlecorn93@sals86@pirateprincessofpizza@xarandomdreamx@zaharadessert@huntressandlioness1@jamif@undercaffinatednightmare@onceratheart18@sparlecorn93@sals86@pirateprincessofpizza@xarandomdreamx@zaharadessert@huntressandlioness1@jonesfandomfanatic​ @hollyethecurious @lfh1226-linda

Chapter Eleven

“I can’t believe I was so stupid!” Ingrid slammed her palm against the steering wheel as they drove back home.

“It isn’t your fault Ingrid,” Killian assured her. “I think it was that amulet he wears. When he touched it, something happened to me. My thoughts got muddied, and I was drawn towards him.”

Ingrid shook her head and pressed her lips into a thin line. “You withstood him better than I did,” she looked over at Emma, “you both did.”

Emma’s brow creased. “You’re right. Maybe it has something to do with what my mom and Belle both said about true love.”

“What did they say?” Ingrid asked. 

Killian cleared his throat. “Just that the love Emma and I have for each other can be protection against Rumplestiltskin.”

“Not exactly,” Emma laughed, looking back at Killian with pride sparkling in her eyes. “My mom seemed very relieved that I had Killian, and Belle said that Rumplestiltskin wasn’t counting on Killian being in the picture.”

“She said he hated me,” Killian clarified.

“Don’t listen to him,” Emma told Ingrid, “he’s basically my hero.”

Killian scoffed even as his cheeks pinked, and Emma laughed.

“Emma,” Ingrid scolded, “how can you be so flippant about this? I told that horrible man things about our family. I invited him to the wedding! He could ruin it somehow.”

Emma shook her head. “He won’t. I don’t think he even can. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do.”

Ingrid glanced at Killian’s reflection in the rearview mirror. He shrugged back at her. Emma was humming the tune of “Scarborough Fair,” of all things, looking contentedly out of the window. How their visit to the mental hospital could possibly have encouraged her was beyond him, but he loved her all the more for her sudden optimism. 

Ingrid’s phone started to ring, and she answered via her bluetooth.

“Hey babe,” she told Liam.

“Hello, love. I’ve got great news!”

“We can use as much of that as we can get. What is it?”

“That professor of agriculture got back to me. According to him, we can take a kernel of corn and grind it down. Then we add that corn ‘powder’ to something fine, like flaxseed, and sow that.”

“Will that count?” Emma piped up.

“He thinks so,” Liam said. “Apparently there’s some legend in . . . Wales? Scotland? I can’t remember, but anyways, in the legend a father won’t let his daughter marry the man she loves unless he can sow an entire field with just one kernel of corn. This was how he accomplished it.”

“You didn’t tell him about our situation, did you?” Ingrid asked with concern.

“Of course not! I told him I was thinking of publishing a second book about the song ‘Scarborough Fair,’ that’s all.”

“Okay, well, at least that’s one thing.”

“Elsa is doing some data analysis to figure out how fast Emma needs to plow before the tide comes in.”

“Now we just have to find this town no one knows.”

That was what worried Killian the most. None of them had any idea how to go about the second riddle. And after their visit to the mental hospital, it was more clear than ever that the future of many people, not just Emma’s, was in the balance. 

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

The next week and a half flew by, and before Emma knew it, she was sitting in front of Ingrid’s vanity mirror in her wedding dress. Ingrid was applying her makeup, and Anna was using a curling iron on her hair. They all yelped when the door flew open, but it was only Liam. 

“What’s with all the people downstairs?” he demanded.

Ingrid straightened up to look at him, a stick of eyeliner gripped between her fingers. “We’re having a wedding, dear, the living room is filled with guests.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “I’m aware of that. But I counted two priests, a rabbi, a baptist minister, a Buddhist monk, and some woman waving a gourd around.”

“The gourd is part of a Cherokee ritual to ward off evil spirits,” Ingrid explained as she leaned down to apply eyeliner to Emma’s eyelids, “and there’s only one priest. The other is an Episcopalian minister.”

“Ingrid, what’s with all the holy people, that’s what I’m asking!”

Ingrid sighed as she straightened once again from her task. “I invited an evil imp to this wedding by accident, okay? So I’m trying to counter that with anything and everything I possibly can!” 

Liam sighed. “That’s sweet of you, darling. Eccentric, but sweet.”

He stepped forward and placed a kiss against his wife’s cheek as Emma and Anna laughed. He left after promising for the fifth time that day to keep Killian downstairs. 

“Do you think he noticed the crystals you lined up on the fireplace mantel?” Emma asked when he was gone.

Ingrid chuckled. “Probably not.”

Anna let out a frustrated groan as she released another limp curl from the curling iron. “I’m not good at this!”

“I told you to use hot rollers,” said Ingrid. 

Emma shook her head. “I don’t want my hair too overdone.”

Anna gave Ingrid a weighted look. “If only Elsa were here. She’s the only one who can do that loose side braid you love.”

Suddenly, Ingrid’s walk-in closet burst open. “Did someone say they needed my help?”

Emma squealed with joy at the sight of Elsa stepping out of the closet. She jumped up and threw herself into her older sister’s arms. 

“I’m so glad you’re here!”

“And I’m glad to finally get out of the closet.” Elsa looked over Emma’s shoulder and scowled at her sister and her aunt. “I thought you two would never say the code word!”

“We didn’t know Liam was going to interrupt!” Anna retorted. 

Ingrid just laughed. “Sorry we hid this from you, Emma, but we wanted it to be a surprise.”

“I wasn’t sure I could make it, either,” Elsa explained, “so we didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

Emma shook her head, dabbing carefully at tears that threatened her makeup. “I don’t care, I’m just so happy to see you! Will you be my second bridesmaid? You can wear the dress you have on - this wedding is very informal.”

“You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Elsa assured her. “Now, are we going to do something about your hair or not?”

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

Killian stood in front of the fireplace in the Jones family living room, his brother standing at his side. He kept fidgeting and shifting from one foot to the other. 

“Nervous?” Liam asked him.

“No,” he answered without hesitation. He barely noticed all the people, most of whom he swore were strangers, crowded into their home. He didn’t feel he was giving up his freedom or being burdened, or any of the other cliches people used for grooms. He just wanted to see Emma descend the stairs. He wanted to pledge his life to her, slip the ring in Liam’s pocket onto her finger, kiss her, and then begin their life together. 

Liam’s friend and colleague, shoved into a tiny corner with his keyboard, began to play the processional, and Ingrid was the first to descend the stairs as Emma’s matron of honor, a tiny bouquet of white daisies clutched in her hands. Elsa, then Anna. followed Ingrid down the stairs. Killian strained his eyes for Emma. She wouldn’t be escorted. She had said it was unnecessary, and she wanted Liam to be Killian’s best man. 

Then, suddenly, there she was, and the music changed. She seemed to float down the stairs like a vision, her dress trailing the ground, her bare shoulders glowing under the lights, and her golden hair in a loose braid that draped over her shoulder. Her hair was threaded with baby’s breath and Queen Anne’s lace, and she clutched a simple bouquet of white roses tied with a white satin ribbon. Her eyes were searching the crowded room, but she didn’t seem to be able to see him. 

Then, suddenly, at the bottom of the stairs, she faltered. She reached out one hand to grip the banister tightly. Her skin went suddenly pale. She seemed to be staring at something no one could see. 

What Killian couldn’t see, what no one could see, was the man at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on his cane. Only Emma could see him. Her breaths became shallow, and she suddenly felt dizzy. Panic gripped her heart. 

“You want to run,” Rumplestiltskin told her, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “You don’t want to get married at 17. You don’t have to. Just turn around and go back upstairs.”

Emma began to shake. What was she doing? He was right! She was too young to get married! Why was she getting married again? Who was she marrying? Something wasn’t right. This man made sense - she should just run back upstairs. 

“Emma?” 

Rumplestiltskin jerked his head towards the sound of the young man’s voice. The boy didn’t see him, of course. His spell had seen to that. But why was there such strong magic emanating from the lad? Rumple recoiled, feeling a sudden, sharp, physical pain. The shirt! The stupid boy was wearing the shirt Emma had made with no needle or seam. The wretched shirt that solved the first riddle. No one could see it; he wore it beneath his shirt and tie. The boy must be sweating in the heavy felt, too. What had possessed him to don the thing? Curse him! Rumple stumbled backwards, the magic of true love overpowering him. He turned and ran, his glamor spell starting to wane, and his skin burning. He almost fell down the steps, but when he reached the sidewalk he turned and steadied himself, smoothing down the front of his suit coat. 

“No matter,” he snarled up at the house and the people inside. “I may not be able to touch you yet, but I will, mark my words, I will, and soon!”

Inside, the sound of Killian’s voice had broken the spell that had held Emma frozen at the bottom of the stairs. She looked down into Killian’s gentle smile and sparkling blue eyes, and every doubt and bit of confusion fled. He held out his hand.

“Don’t be afraid, Emma,” he told her softly, “we’ll walk the aisle together.”

She took his hand and descended the last few steps. She tucked her arm into his and beamed up at him. 

“Why would I be afraid?” she asked him, and she would never remember the strange man at the bottom of the stairs. 

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

Emma giggled as Killian carried her over the threshold of the house they would share, at least as long as the professor who owned it was on sabbatical. Killian set her down, brushed her lips with a kiss, then stepped forward, his arms spread wide.

“So, what do you think?”

Emma stepped slowly into the room, taking in the small foyer and the modest living room to the left. To the right was a stairwell, and down a short hall in front of her was a small eat-in kitchen. It was a narrow, two story Victorian, even older than the home she grew up in with Ingrid. Emma wrapped her arms around the post of the stairway banister and looked up at the decorative stain glass panel above the front door which was so common in Victorian homes. It cast shafts of colored light onto the flowered wallpaper. 

“It’s not very big, I know,” Killian told her, “but the man who owns it is a bachelor, after all. The upstairs is better, though. He renovated it to just one huge master suite with a really modern bathroom. It’s got a double shower!”

Emma caught his gaze at that, and a teasing smile lifted her lips. “Really?”

Killian swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. He’d never heard that one word sound so laden with sensual promise. Emma bit her lower lip as she regarded him, still draped across the banister. 

“I could . . .” he stuttered, “give you a tour. Of the house, I mean.”

Emma grinned slyly, then gazed up the stairs. “I only want to see the bedroom.”

Killian swallowed again, “Oh - okay.”

Emma stepped closer and took his hand. She said nothing, just gazed at him in a way that took his breath away. He took the stairs, leading her by the hand, every nerve in his body on high alert. 

The stairs led them straight into the master suite, with no door separating the two. At the back of the room was a sitting area surrounded by built-in bookshelves. A TV was mounted on the wall so it could be seen from either the sofa, rocking chair, or bed. 

The bed. It was a queen size, four-poster bed situated in front of a beautiful round window of colored glass. It dominated the room, or at least it seemed to right now. Emma walked to it slowly, running her hands along the quilt that lay across it. When Ingrid had seen the house, she said the quilt was another sign that fate meant them to be together. The pattern of interlocking circles was called a wedding ring quilt. 

Emma wrapped her arms around one of the bedposts, just like she had the banister downstairs, and looked at him shyly. Two spots of color tinted her cheeks. Killian scratched behind his ear and gestured to the door to his left. 

“Do you, uh, want to see the bathroom?”

“Killian,” Emma said gently, “why are you so nervous?”

He was able to laugh, just a bit, at her words, but he didn’t know what to say. Emma took one step forward, took him by the hand and pulled him closer. To her and to the bed. She ran both hands up the front of his shirt and began to undo the buttons. His heart threatened to beat right out of his chest. 

Suddenly, Emma paused. “What’s under your shirt?”

“The one you made. To solve the first riddle.”

Emma laughed as she worked off his tie and undid the rest of his buttons. “Oh my God, you must have been burning up!”

“You have no idea!” He laughed too and peeled the scratchy, insanely hot shirt up and over his head. He sighed in relief as he tossed it aside, then ran his hand through his sweaty hair. He caught Emma staring at him, her cheeks now bright red. He wondered if she would get nervous now, but instead, she turned her back to him. 

“Unzip me?”

Her back was almost completely bare already in her halter dress. The zipper didn’t start until her lower back. He could scarcely breathe as he slid it down, revealing her lacy underwear. 

“And untie the halter?” Emma’s voice was thick, and he was thankful he wasn’t the only one obviously shaken by desire.

Killian did as she asked, letting his fingers dance along her spine after he finished. Emma sucked in a sudden breath at his touch. He stepped closer, encircling her waist and pressing his chest to her back. Still holding the front of her dress to her chest, Emma leaned back into him, and he trailed kisses along her neck. 

“Are you even wearing a bra?” he asked against her skin.

Emma turned to face him, still holding her dress up. “It’s hard to wear a bra when it’s a halter,” she said, then she let go of the dress, and it fell with a soft rustling sound at her feet. 

For a few heated moments, he took her in, glorious in nothing but a pair of white lace panties. Then he surged forward, pressing her bare breasts against him and devouring her mouth with deep kisses. Emma moaned as he maneuvered her to the bed, and her hands fumbled with the zipper of his pants. 

After kicking aside his pants, he covered Emma with his body, nothing between them but that tiny scrap of lace. His hands roamed, as he sucked on her neck, and Emma panted as she grasped his back. He pulled back for a moment, tenderly cupping her cheek. 

“You asked why I was so nervous.”

“Mhm,” Emma replied, her lips pressed together, and her eyes wide.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, his hand drifting down to caress her breasts. 

“A little,” she whispered. 

“Me too,” he confessed, “because I don’t want to hurt you.”

Emma pressed her hands to his cheeks. “I know you would never hurt me.”

He ran his thumb along the waistband of her panties, and she shuddered, her eyes fluttering shut. 

“I don’t want you to be scared,” he whispered hoarsely.

Her eyes opened and held his as she lifted her hips and guided his hands.

“Do I look scared to you?”

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

The window above the bed scattered beams of light in various shades across the quilt that covered Emma and Killian. They were both still naked, and Emma was tucked against him, running her hands through his chest hair. He ran his hands along her bare arm and kept brushing kisses to her forehead. 

Emma let out a contented sight, “That was amazing. I want to do it again and again and again.”

Killian chuckled. “I’m so relieved to hear you say that. I was so worried, I even asked Liam for advice.”

Emma twisted so she could look into his face. “You talked to Liam about us having sex?” she yelped. 

“Not like that, just . . . I wanted to be sure I was sensitive to what you’ve been through. He understood that and was really helpful. I read that some guys are really rushed and insensitive without meaning to be when it’s their first time, and I didn’t want to do anything stupid.”

Emma nodded, then a slow grin spread across her face. “Well, whatever he told you, I need to send him a thank you card, because . . . wow!”

Killian laughed. “Now, that would be awkward.”

Emma suddenly grew quiet, and her hand stilled in its exploration of his chest. 

“Emma?” he asked tentatively.

She sighed and rolled over next to him on her back. For her to lie there next to him, her breasts uncovered, made him feel so honored to receive that vulnerability. Still, something told him she was insecure about something.

“Did I disappoint you, though?” she asked.

Killian rolled closer to her as he exclaimed, “What? Why would you ask that?”

“Well, I doubt you imagined a woman with this kind of figure for your first time.” She ran her hand over her baby bump, which still wasn’t incredibly noticeable, to be honest. 

“Emma,” he said softly, turning her chin to face him, “you are the most beautiful, exquisite thing I have ever seen in my life. I thought I was going to internally combust for a moment when your dress hit the floor.”

Emma chuckled at that, but he could still see the insecurity in her eyes. He decided to show her instead. He gently ran his hand down the length of her body, stopping at her rounded abdomen. He caressed it gently, then leaned down and placed a lingering kiss right beside her belly button. To his surprise, he felt a small thump in response. 

Emma gasped, and Killian’s head snapped up. “Did he just -”

“Yes,” Emma laughed, “he just kicked you.”

Killian lowered his lips again to Emma’s belly. “Hello, little one,” he said, “it’s me, your daddy.”

He kissed Emma’s belly button again, and Emma dug her fingers into his hair. When he looked back up at her, tears were shining in her eyes. He pushed himself up and kissed her, gently at first, and then with more passion. Emma broke the kiss, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“Didn’t you say something about a double shower?”

Before he knew it, she was out of the bed and darting to the bathroom door. With a growl, he jumped up and chased after her.