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fortheloveoffanfic · 3 years ago

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Behind Closed Doors

Keanu Reeves x OFC (Emma Mathers) (A/n- yes the title was inspired by Taylor Swift's Illicit Affairs)

Masterlist Behind Closed Doors Masterlist

Warnings- Angst

Clandestine Meeting

“I miss you.”

Emma looked up from the text, taken aback. Her doe eyes were wide and the words which might have previously served to put a small smile on her face simply had her pulling half of her lower lip between her teeth. Stiffening her stance, her mind went rigid and though the keypad was opened and awaiting her reply, Emma didn’t quite know what she should say. So, instead, she glanced up, trying to keep her cool as she looked across the room, meeting his gaze from where he sat at the breakfast bar, phone in hand and morning paper discarded near his half finished bowl of cereal.

Keanu’s whiskey orbs stared back at her, practically willing her to start typing a response, to hopefully admit that she felt the same. It had been almost a week since Miranda’s return, and since then, Emma had gone back to avoiding Keanu like the plague. Even being in the same room with him was too much, though, considering that over seeing the twins’ breakfast was part of her job, mornings were proving to be hardest, and by all means the only time they actually spent together. “Everything okay Em?” Using his free hand, Keanu shifted his spoon around in his ceramic bowl, acting so nonchalant that it hurt to watch. Whoever said he wasn’t a good actor had to have been a good liar.

“Yeah,” sucking in a sharp breath, she nodded stiffly, giving the text, which he’d seen her read, one final glance before locking the phone and setting it down on the granite counter. Without further ado, she carried on, getting orange juice for Matt and then cleaning up a spill Poppy had made while trying to pour more milk into her sugary, colorful cereal. “Let me help you with that,” she mumbled sweetly, hurrying over to collect the roll of paper towels and subsequently tearing off a couple blocks to sap up the fallen milk.

Still on the counter, her phone chirped again, and when she was finally finished, Emma read yet another text from Keanu, that time through the notifications, “Can I see you tonight?”

Already exasperated, Emma rolled her eyes, clenching her jaw as she hastily snatched up the cell. She hated that he was just sitting there, acting like he wasn’t engaged, trying to reel her back in despite the consequences. She hated that she actually wanted to see him anyway, even more. But what Emma hated the most was knowing that no matter what, she was already Keanu’s closeted secret. “You’re seeing me right now,” she angrily tapped the little blue send button, tossing the phone back to the cool surface, only for him to respond almost instantaneously.

“You know what I mean……” Was his reply, and when Emma took the chance at sneaking a glance at him, Emma could see that Keanu’s eyes had softened, silently pleading with her to give in. In that moment, she could slowly start to feel her resolve wavering; everything she’d worked so had to build up over the past five days or so diminished by just one look. Suddenly, she felt strange chill run through her, not as a consequence of the environment, it was actually quite warm that morning. It was actually from the memory that arose upon reminiscing on the last time she’d been alone with Keanu. That day when Miranda had come back, the way he’d touched her while they laid in bed, how his smell, as predicted, had stained her sheets and finally, how he’d come into her room that night, caressing her cheek and kissing her forehead as if he cared. Emma knew that she shouldn’t have been falling for it; a relationship with Keanu was fruitless, he couldn’t offer her anything but private pleasures and then insurmountable hurt. Still, she wanted it, she wanted him.

Clutching the phone tightly, Emma quickly tried to blink away burning tears, staring at the words on the bright screen. “I’m sorry,” another one came in, followed up with, “Please, I promise we can talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Emma’s fingers worked quickly, and it hurt her to type those words while knowing that there was so much she wanted to say.

Again, before she could set it down, Keanu sent, “Don’t say that. I don’t want to end things this way. Just let me fix this.”

“How?” Emma was about to hit send again, when, in a flurry of floral silk, Miranda sauntered into the room, immediately going to wrap her arms around Keanu’s broad shoulders. He stiffened visibly, hurriedly dropping his phone face down, and Emma was left to silently watch the scene unfold, taking note of the way Miranda met her eyes briefly before laying a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“Good morning darling,” she sung near his ear, unable to bear anymore of it, Emma swallowed her hurt and get back to tidying the kitchen and tending to the children. Though, that didn’t quite stop her from listening, “I can’t believe you left me in bed, all alone.”

Chuckling softly, Keanu took a minute before coming up with a response, “You know I like to get an early start. Did you sleep well?”

“Just fine,” Miranda hummed, sashaying over to the refrigerator and scanning its contents until she spotted the overly expensive, extremely exotic, organic creamer that she usually took with her coffee. “Emily,” she turned to Emma, who by then, had long grown tired of trying to correct her, “Why don’t you get my mug and pour me some coffee?"

Miranda, as Emma had come to learn, had the oddest sense of humor and seemed to get off on ‘accidently’ treating her like a maid. And sometimes, like her very own lady in waiting. “Sure,” Emma managed through gritted teeth, all but snatching the handcrafted mug off a shelf in the cabinet and then half filling it with scalding black liquid. “Anything else?” The ordinarily polite quip was actually meant as a petty jab, though Miranda didn’t seem to get that.

“There is actually,” stirring in some of the creamer, not even looking Emma’s way, “Do you think could whip me up an egg white omelet?”

That time, before Emma could speak, Keanu was interjecting, “Mandy,” he tried to sound light and teasing, the edge of annoyance kept at bay, “You know that Em isn’t a maid. Besides, the tutors are coming soon and she has to get the kids ready.”

“Well I’m sure you can do that Keke, I have to finish prepping for my meeting with the wedding planner and I can’t do that on an empty stomach,” pouting dramatically, Miranda summoned up her best puppy eyes for Keanu, “Please darling? For the sake of our wedding?”

“I…..” Keanu stuttered, and Emma hoped with everything in her that he wouldn’t feed her to the lion, but of course, she couldn’t be so lucky, “Why not?” Defeated, Emma’s sigh was soft, and before she knew it, Keanu was rounding up Matt and Poppy and flashing her sympathetic look before herding them towards the hallway after announcing that it was bath time.

She waited until Keanu was gone, and from the minute Keanu was out of earshot, Miranda began the inescapable torture. She cared very little for those who she proudly referred to as help, though Miranda did like hearing herself talk enough to ramble on to anything with ears. “I don’t know if Keanu’s mentioned it,” she carried on, popping a grape from the bowl in the fridge into her mouth, “But we’ve decided on a winter wedding in New York. We’re doing it at the Weylin on New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s……” Emma’s voice was soft and it took everything in her to not break down at the thought of Keanu marrying someone else. Worst yet, it was so close, just over a month and a half away. “That’s nice.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Emma was in the process of gathering the egg whites, expertly separating them from the yolks like her mother had taught her so long ago. “It’s going to be a grand affair,” she explained exuberantly, “And I’ve got a designer from Dior working on a custom dress. I’m already in talks with a couple magazines, we’re going to cover the entire thing.”

Furrowing her brows, Emma slowed down as she moved on to chopping the seasonings. A publicized wedding? That didn’t sound much like Keanu at all; he was notoriously private and hated the press getting in on his life. It was why he’d avoided social media and had pitched out thousands for Matt and Poppy to be homeschooled. “Are you sure Keanu will like that?” Emma’s tentative probe was soft and unsteady and she knew very well that it wasn’t her place to ask.

“Well why wouldn’t he?” Miranda sank into a seat at the kitchen table, nearest to the window, where the warm light was filtering in and washing to room with a heat contrasted perfectly by the low setting of the air conditioner, “The publicity will be great for him too. God knows he needs it sometimes, if he didn’t work so much, there wouldn’t be anything for anyone to write about.”

“I think that’s the point,” foolishly, Emma countered, “I mean, he does hate having his life all over the media, he likes privacy. Right?”

“Oh God,” she burst out laughing, rolling her eyes, “You’re a naïve little thing aren’t you, Emily? Every celebrity plays that little game. But in our world, no matter what you do, everyone is gonna know everything about you, and it sells. And as long as it sells, who gives a fuck about privacy?”

Fumbling for words, Emma slid the now finished omelet onto a pristine white plate, “I’m sure its not possible to know everything.” The conversation was starting to make her uncomfortable, and Emma desperately wanted an out.

“Of course it is,” Miranda cackled loudly, “This is Hollywood dear, there are eyes everywhere.” Emma had just set the plate and cutlery down in front of Miranda, and was already, leaving the kitchen hoping to get back to cleaning up later that morning when the older woman added, just as she was at the mouth of the long corridor, “Just remember that Emily, every secret, every nose job, every hidden pregnancy, every affair…..it always gets out, sooner or later.”

She paused for a minute at the mere mention of the word ‘affair,’ though, Emma didn’t want to have some kind of teary episode right there in front of Keanu’s wretched fiancée, picking up a quick pace not long after. She had to get to her room before the heat had completely risen to her face and the tears had inevitably started falling, she couldn’t be caught like that without reasonable explanation. Emma was almost there, her door was straight ahead after she’d climbed the stairs, and her head was down as she toyed anxiously with the knot of the robe when someone grabbed her arm, effectively startling her. “Hey,” Keanu side stepped in front of her, looking around to make sure that they were truly alone. “I was hoping to get you alone.”

“Uhh….” Blinking away the shock she’d left the kitchen with, Emma tried to act normal, ignoring the rapid beating of her heart, “I um…..what do you want?”

“To see you, alone. Just the two of us,” before Emma could object, Keanu cut her off, “I know you’ve been avoiding me, and definitely I deserve the cold shoulder. But I have something planned, just for the two of us.”

“Ke-” Torn, Emma half sobbed, knowing that she badly wanted some time alone with him but also knowing that with Miranda back it would be a risk.

“I know,” he sighed, “But I miss you, so much baby,” he leaned in, stealing kiss which she readily reciprocated, “I just want to be with you,” he peered down the stairs, ensuring that Miranda wasn’t nearby, his baritone dropping an octave as Keanu placed a hand on her waist, stepping closer, “I know you’re mad at me, but don’t you miss me too sweetheart?”

“I’m not mad at you, and I do miss you” Emma laid a gentle hand on Keanu’s shoulder, a couple rogue tears slipping past her lashes, “But this is wrong, you know that.”

“I do,” he whispered, bending to press his forehead to hers, “But I can’t help it, you’re all I think about sometimes,” swallowing thickly, Keanu continued, “I’ve put something together and my sister has been asking for the kids for a while now. Miranda is gonna be out with her girlfriends tonight, say you’ll come with me.”

Licking her lips, Emma ignored the voice in her head that urged that it was a bad idea, “Where?”

“Its a surprise,” Keanu smiled faintly, catching her lips in a brief peck, “But I promise you’ll like it. Just dress in jeans, and your leather jacket cause we’re taking the bike. Okay?”

Hesitating, Emma eventually nodded, “Okay,” she sealed with a kiss, reluctantly untangling from him, walking off with a backwards glance, her tormented gaze meeting his hopeful one last time.

“Ke….” Emma emitted soft, breathy, delighted giggles that seemed to get lost the minute it was cast out in the atmosphere. The lights were turned down low and past the clear, glass double doors, a sleek, modern fireplace was lit on the porch that jutted out over the edge of the cliff, overlooking the darkened ocean. The heels of her boots thudded softly on the rich hardwood as Emma stepped further into the primarily glass abode. The high ceilings, supported by thick fiberglass beams, matched the floors when she looked up in awe, and eventually, when she reached the open doors leading to the cool outside, where a salty breeze blew her freed tresses, Emma was almost at a total loss for words, “This is……”

A wide, proud smile split his lips. Keanu was glad she liked it, he’d pulled a lot of strings to get them that place for a few hours. It was far off from the lively city and the thick surrounding foliage should have protected them from being discovered by any prying eyes. For a few precious hours, they could be free. Slowly, he approached Emma where she stood, grasping the cool railing, mouth still agape as she looked forward. Snaking his arms around her waist and pressing his chest against her back, he laid a kiss no the side of her head. It was so perfect, it always was; being with her.

Everything faded when she was in his arms; the chill of the night air, the glow from around the pool and the quiet crackle of the fireplace. When they were alone together, nothing mattered but Emma. Keanu had never felt that way about anyone, not even Diana, the mother of his children, the woman who ran from their family and broke his heart. He’d tried making it work with her for as long as they could, but in the end, she wouldn’t have married him, much less stick around and raise two children. Keanu had almost given up on finding someone, someone who’d love Matt and Poppy the way he did, be the mother they deserved and the woman he’d spent the rest of his life with. Even when he'd met Miranda, there hadn’t been much hope left, but he was willing to make it work. Though, lately, Keanu had taken to wondering if the woman right there in his arms was actually the one he’d been waiting for. She’d taken his breath away with her unmatched beauty and now, with each passing day, he was giving a little more of his heart away to Emma. It wouldn’t be long till she’d own the part he’d reserved for someone special. She was special, “Absolutely stunning."

When Emma turned slightly in his embrace, she found that Keanu was looking right at her, chuckling musically when he bent and nuzzled her cheek and tightening his hug so she couldn't escape his affections. "Are you talking about the view or something else?"

Peppering her cheek with kisses, his rough salt and pepper beard grazing her satiny skin, Keanu hummed, "Maybe someone else….." Finally, Emma spun so they were chest to chest, her arms winding around his neck, tangled her fingers in the ends of his hair, disheveled from wearing his helmet, "You look so beautiful tonight," his eyes softened, gaze clouded over with something uncertain though unwavering, "You're always so beautiful," Keanu leaned down, capturing her lips.

He tasted like tobacco and something uniquely him, the same thing she thought about when falling asleep at night. From the minute they’d first kissed, that night in Paris, tension practically shoving them into each other’s arms, Emma thought that his lips seemed like they were meant to lock with hers; Keanu always knew exactly what she needed.

Tilting her head, Emma let herself melt against him, submitting to the comfort of his warmth and the security of his kiss. Even if everything else was wrong in their lives, even if everyone would inevitably get hurt, at least they had that. Kisses that completed them, even if just for a little while.

A little while.

One day they’d have to go back to living without each other. Inhaling deeply, filling her lungs with the kind of fresh air that was usually absent in the city, Emma pulled away, her hands pressing against Keanu’s chest in unspoken protest, and in an attempt to keep her from walking away, he loosely circled her wrists, “What?” Knitting his brows, he frowned deeply, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” her voice broke unexpectedly, her eyes shining, bright with unshed tears, “Not really, its just…..” The words wouldn't come, at least not the ones that would help Emma elucidate exactly what she wanted Keanu to know. She didn’t want to ruin their one perfect night, but she didn’t want it to be their only perfect night. Emma wanted more, more than she might ever get with him, “You just……you do everything right, you know?” Shaking her head sorrowfully, she sniffled, “Almost everything.”

Casting his head towards their feet, Keanu nodded faintly, his chuckle dry and humorless, “Yeah,” he huffed, “I know what you mean.” Thinking on the matter for a moment, Keanu knew that his heart had been begging him to do the right thing, be the man that they both needed, but he simply couldn’t. Maybe if he didn’t have kids, or were just a few years younger. There were so many ‘maybe’s. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, trying to hug her.

“You always say that,” Emma slunk out from between Keanu and the guard rail, strolling along the balcony, trying to put some space between them so she could think properly, “But nothing changes.”

“I’m trying,” Keanu reasoned.

“Are you?” When Emma turned towards him, some of her hair whipped against her flushed cheeks, “Cause it feels like you’re just saying that to get me to shut up about the real problem.” Scoffing, she swiped at her eyes, “What are we doing Keanu?”

His lips quivered, an explanation absent. There was nothing he could say to fix it, he knew that, but he wanted to, he needed to. Keanu needed her. He knew he’d been playing childish games with Emma, sneaking around and stealing moments. He was too old for it to make sense, and Emma deserved to be more than his shadowed lover. “We’re……” He trailed off, wishing things were easier.

“You know what it feels like?” Folding her arms, Emma ignored the new dryness in her throat, opting not to move when Keanu approached her, racing out to lay a hand on her hip, probably worried that she was about to end things between them.

Licking his lips, Keanu’s gaze flickered to hers and he swore he already knew what she was going to say. He knew because he felt it too, “What?”

Emitting a frustrated sigh, exasperation fueled by the complexity of their lives and the knowledge that things were bound to stay the same unless he changed them. Emma, despite her better senses, raised her hand to cup his cheek, rubbing her thumb along the corner of his lips, as she tilted her head to the side, regarding him with obvious pain in her eyes, “It feels like I’m falling in love with you even though I shouldn’t.”

Keanu’s arm slid around to her lower back, urging Emma closer, pecking her forehead, “I’m falling in love with you too,” he whispered, muffled by her skin.

Relived by his admission, Emma relented to holding Keanu in a tight hug, pressing her ear over his steady heartbeat. They stayed like that for a while, faces turned towards the vast ocean beyond the mountain, the water darkened, only defined by the rippling glow; the distance so undefined that it was easy to liken it to themselves. An unbound beauty that may have remained largely unexplored. “Come on,” Emma eventually pulled away, grabbing Keanu’s hands so they wouldn’t be completely separated, “Let’s not waste the rest of our night,” she mustered up a small smile, one that was returned by Keanu who, like her, still seemed troubled, but was willing to put it past them, just they could make the most of their stolen moments.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea @nonsensicalobsessions

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x ofc #behind closed doors #nanny au #keanu reeves fanfiction #ff

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years ago

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Love, War, and Books by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 2/3

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly

Chapter 2: Poetry and Mean Spiritedness

Emma stood in the middle of a near empty store, she sighed, stringing up the lights around the small tree in the corner of the reading area. She gazed around at the few children and their parents looking around at the books before leaving without spending a dime. Jones Books had opened at the beginning of the week and sadly had affected the customer turnout for the week.

While it was upsetting, Emma was trying to stay positive, determined that business would pick up once the shine of the new bookstore wore off and the children begged their parents to return to the store that spent time and effort to bring the stories to life that they had known and loved.

“This bloody sucks!” Will complained as he closed the register for the evening.

“We’ll be out of business before the end of the month at this rate.” Ruby whispered in his direction.

“No one is going out of business.” Emma assured, patting Ruby on the back. “It will pick up after they get tired of the terrible customer service they are getting at Jones crappy bookstore.”

“I hope so because I have rent due on the 5th.”

“Please, you’re still living in a place with rent control. I’ll be out on the streets with the amount they rip from my hands each month across town.”

“No one is going to be out on the streets. Think positive. We’ll be fine.” Emma tried to calm the nervousness in the room.

“It’s like working in a tomb here.” Will moaned.

“Wow Will, way to be positive.” Ruby teased with a groan.

He shrugged and Emma skipped away from them, trying to ignore the negative concerns from her employees. She wasn’t going to be put out of business from Jones Books!

When she arrived home that evening, her positive attitude was threatening to wane on her. The store had barely made enough money to be in the black that evening, she stepped in a puddle before entering their apartment, and the zipper in the dress she wanted to wear to the dinner this evening snagged and broke as soon as she put it on.

Groaning she sat down at her laptop as she waited for August to get done with his shower. She read the message from JR10 and her smile returned momentarily.

Lonelygirl: I find that sometimes you are the one person I want to talk to at the end of a difficult day. Is that weird? If it is, just skip over that part. I pride myself in being a positive person, but lately I’m finding it harder to find that little piece of joy before I get swallowed into a black hole of sadness. I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you for being that little piece of joy I needed tonight.

She closed her laptop as August emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. “I thought you were getting dressed?”

“My zipper broke.” She frowned, holding up the dress in front of her.

“So, wear that one with the flowers.”

“I hate that dress.”

“So, wear the plaid one or the one with stripes. Or the red one is nice.” He paused, looking at her closet. “Any of these is fine.”

“Yeah ok, the red one is good.”

An hour later they were in the elevator and heading to the penthouse for a publication party. They were generally dry and boring but a great opportunity to meet other writers, artists, and people in the book business.

“Maybe you can find some people to assist you in your plight tonight.”

“My plight? And what would that be?” She waited on an answer from August.

“From Jones Books, if things got tough perhaps you could find an ally to help rally support.”

“It’s not going to get to that. My store is doing just fine.” Emma replied angrily.

“I know, I don’t know why I said that, of course it’s fine.”

“There’s enough business for more than one bookstore. We’re fine.”

He kissed her cheek. “You’re more than fine, you’re absolutely fine.”

“Yeah, exactly, we’re fine.” She repeated as they stepped into the party at the top of the building unsure if she was trying to convince August or herself of the state of her business.

~*~

Killian and Milah had arrived early to the party, a friend of the family who was hosting a publishing event had invited them to join them that evening. His father told him more than once that these events were the perfect time to rub elbows with people in the book business. Free advertising, he used to tell him.

“Oh, I can’t believe that August Booth is here. I listen to him on the way to work, he is so inspiring.” Killian nodded without actually paying attention as he scanned the room, his eyes settling on a familiar face in the back corner.

Emma Swan.

His eyes grew big, and he leaned over to speak into Milah’s ear. “I’m going to get a drink.” She nodded and he slipped out of view of the woman from his rival bookstore before she could turn in his direction.

“Havana Club Rum, neat.” He gave his order to the bartender, glancing around the room to find Milah.

“Malibu and Cranberry.” He recognized her voice before he turned toward her. When he did she smiled, and her eyes grew wide. “Hey! Remember me? From the bookstore?”

“Yeah, yeah of course I remember you.”

“How’s your brother?”

“He’s good, really good.” He grabbed his drink and held it up in front of him. “I have to get back to my date, very thirsty, would hate to see her wither from dehydration.” He joked.

“You’re Killian right?” She continued and he felt the sweat start to gather at the back of his neck.

“Yes, and you’re Emma.” He said with a smile before ducking into the crowd to escape.

~*~

Emma sipped her drink as she made her way back over to August, sliding up beside him as his conversation ended.

“I can’t believe you were talking to Killian Jones.”

Emma turned toward him, “Jones, as in…”

“Jones Books.” He nodded but Emma was already making her way across the room toward the man standing at the food table.

“Jones, your name is Killian Jones?”

“Last I checked, Aye.” He shrugged, turning back to the food, and filling his plate.

“You were spying on me!” She declared loudly. “You probably don’t even have a brother.”

“You wound me Swan. Of course I have a brother. Why exactly do you think I would spy on you?” He said as if he didn’t have a care in the world who she was, which angered her even more.

“I’m your competition, which you already know or else you wouldn’t have played that little charade in my store.” She had her hands on her hips, chewing angrily on her bottom lip.

“Competition?” He said with an annoying laugh that made her blood boil. “The only reason I came into your store was because I was spending the day with my brother. I like to buy him gifts when I take him out because honestly I have no idea how else to keep his attention. At the time there was only one place in the neighborhood to buy children’s books, though as I am sure you are aware of now, all of that has changed.” He shrugged, “So I ended up in your store, and it is a charming littlestore. You probably sell $250,000 worth of books a year…”

Her eyes widened as she stepped toward him. “How did you know that?”

“I’m in the book business, obviously.” He said arrogantly.

“No, I’m in the book business, you are simply the Costco of books.”

“Ah I see, and so you think that I needed to sneak into your tiny bookstore and steal your financial ledger because I’m afraid you’ll put me out of business? Give me a break, love.” He snorted and Emma felt flustered, angry, but frozen in place.

“What?” He asked as he watched her standing in front of him, mouth agape, saying nothing.

“Killian Jones, corporate scum, destroyer of small-time virtues, enemy of the hardback novel, how do you sleep at night?” August joined her at her side and Emma forced herself to close her mouth as she stared between them.

“I sleep wonderful at night, mostly from the pills though.” A woman interrupted and jabbed her hand toward August. “You’re August Booth, aren’t you?” she paused. “I’m Milah Gold. And I loved your podcast last week about how Amazon is taking over the world.” She turned toward Killian. “This man is a literal genius.” Emma narrowed her eyes at the woman.

“Wow thank you; you have no idea how much that means coming from someone as talented as you. So often I wake up and worry that people will think I’m a fraud or a failure. But this…this is truly inspiring.” August seemed to suck the air out of the room as he continued to praise the woman standing next to her enemy.

“We need to talk more. Have you ever considered writing a book?” The woman continued and August began to shift excitedly on the balls of his feet. Emma stood stoically as her eyes made contact with the man who was trying to destroy her business. He held her gaze, not wavering from the contact until she shifted her eyes back to her boyfriend. She breathed a sigh of relief when Killian and the woman excused themselves from the conversation.

Emma couldn’t concentrate the rest of the evening. Why did she say nothing when he provoked her? Instead of standing up for herself she froze, completely shut down.

“I really liked that Milah Gold. Sure, I know she’s completely driven by money, but anyone who listens to my podcast can always be turned around.”

Emma rolled her eyes, tossing down onto her pillow and staring at the ceiling while he continued to ramble on and on about the evening.

~*~

“I can’t believe we met August Booth. He’s so interesting, don’t you think he’s interesting?” He turned over in his bed, staring at the floor. “His ideas are just so ahead of his time. No one is saying the things he’s saying.”

Killian flipped the covers off his body and stood from the bed. He was feeling uneasy, angry, guilty. Why was he feeling guilty?

“Where are you going?”

“Bloody hell woman, I’m just not tired.”

JR10: Have you ever woken up and realized that you have become the worst part of yourself? Like when someone provokes you, every arrogant, self-absorbed, condescending piece of your personality comes springing to life and attacks. Who am I kidding, you wouldn’t know what that is like? I’m the dark asshole here.

He stared at his screen, almost needing to talk to her, hoping that she was online. His heart soared when it showed she was typing.

Lonelygirl: I completely understand. I’m honestly jealous, I wish I had that in me. When I’m provoked, I freeze like a fish gulping for air, only to spend the rest of the night tossing in bed trying to think of things I should have said instead.

He laughed; he couldn’t believe how opposite they were. She was a breath of fresh air.

JR10: Perhaps I could lend you some of my retorts and you could give me your silence. Though I must warn you, when you finally provide that perfect response that digs into the subject of your attack, you will learn a new trait. Remorse.

He paused, staring at his screen, and thinking about doing something really stupid. Or possibly brilliant. He wasn’t sure which it was.

JR10: Do you think we should meet?

He hovered over the enter button, did he really think it was a good idea to meet this woman? Before he could change his mind he punched the button sending the message and closing the lid of his computer.

~*~

“He wants to meet you?” Emma groaned and leaned against the counter, Ruby staring at her from her spot in front of the shelves. “What did you tell him?”

“I wasn’t going to answer him on an empty stomach. So, I made breakfast and then chickened out and ran straight to work.”

“That’ll show him.” Will joked as he nudged her with his shoulder. “Left him on read.”

“Oh stop.” Emma whined. “I’ll answer him, later.” She sighed, walking back to her office, and staring at her invoices. Sales were down by 30% since Jones books had opened. She was never going to survive at this rate. She needed to do something drastic.

“It’s a shame you don’t know anyone with a voice to the public. Someone who knows how to tug at the heartstrings of America’s bleeding heart.”

Emma looked up to see Mrs. Lucas entering the room. “You aren’t suggesting…”

“That man candy of yours.”

“Don’t call him that.” Emma scrunched her nose and shuffled the papers in front of her.

“Come on, he’s nice on the eyes that man of yours.”

“I guess.”

“If you can only guess, then maybe you’re looking up a different tree.”

Emma’s mouth dropped, “Grans! That’s completely inappropriate.”

The woman shrugged and left the room. “I’ll take him if you’re done with him.” She hollered back as she left.

Emma was being completely unfair to August, there was no way she should meet this JR10. Things were perfect just the way they were. She loved August, he was good to her, and all she was doing was having a conversation with a computer screen.

That’s all.

Nothing more.

As soon as she got home she opened her laptop, determined that this was the right decision.

Lonleygirl: I don’t think we should meet. Why would we ruin what we have? I enjoy talking to you, you enjoy talking to me, why mess with that? Please don’t ask again.

~*~

Killian sat with his dog in his lap and his laptop sitting beside him as he read the incoming message.

“Good job Jones, you scared her.” He patted the dog’s head. “I’m officially an idiot.”

He slammed the laptop shut, unsure how to reply to the woman.

The days went by in a flurry as the store picked up steam. Every time he walked through the expansive store, it was buzzing with customers, passing over credit cards, picking up bundles of books at an affordable rate. He was saving them money, he was a goddamn hero, he thought.

But as he was standing in the checkout line at the grocery store, waiting for any sign of movement in the past ten minutes, his sour mood was making him feel anything like a hero.

“Can you believe this woman?” The man in front of him complained to his wife. “She’s trying to pay with a credit card in the cash only line.”

Killian leaned to the side, trying to see who was causing the delay when he spotted the golden hair, angry face, and an ass that would make any man’s groin twitch. He laughed, cursing his luck, but stepping forward toward her anyway.

“Do you need cash?”

She turned toward him and groaned. “Definitely not, thank you.” She growled.

“Hi, Ashley.” He smiled at the cashier. “This is Emma, I’m Killian. This is a credit card machine, is it not, Lass?” The woman stared at him, nodding with her mouth agape. “It’s the night before Thanksgiving, people are hungry, tired, and I’m sure you would prefer everyone go home so that you can get off your shift, am I right?”

The woman smiled. “It’s cash only.”

“But you have the ability to run it through. Zip zip.” He said as he pretended to push the card through the machine.

The woman took the card and groaned, “Fine.” She said as she ran it through the machine.

“Everything good now?”

“Just great.” Emma replied rolling her eyes.

“Happy Thanksgiving.” He said with a fake smile, turning his back and inserting himself into the line to a swell of cheers and pats on the back.

~*~

Emma found that she was running into Killian everywhere she went to her utter dismay. Suddenly he was at her coffee shop, grocery store, and even the gas station. When he pulled up on his stupid motorcycle she wanted to comment about how he must be overcompensating for something, but that would mean having to speak to him. So instead, she found herself hiding anytime he showed up. Sure, it was ridiculous, but she just didn’t want to face him again after the credit card incident.

As much as seeing Killian was causing her sour mood, she knew that wasn’t the only reason. She hadn’t heard back from JR10 since she told him she didn’t want to meet him. She supposed it was for the best, she never intended for it to go anywhere in the first place.

But everything seemed to be going wrong lately. Killian, JR10, her store. Emma wanted to feel happy, especially during the holidays, but instead she just felt depressed.

She stood at the store display window, watching the children walk by with their parents, snow falling softly in the background, and normally this would bring her all the joy she needed to keep from missing her mom during the holidays. Instead, the little yellow “Jones Books” bags in the hands of the happy children only brought her sadness.

When she got home, she did the one thing that had made her happy recently. She ignored the awkward feelings, sat down with her cocoa, and opened her laptop to message JR10.

Lonelygirl: I miss my mom. The holidays aren’t the same without her. I don’t think I ever told you, but my mom passed ten years ago. Fuck cancer. She always made the holidays special and I’m just really feeling down this year and I guess nothing feels special anymore because nothing is going right in my life anymore and I could really use her advice.

She got up and stood by her window, tears falling onto her cheeks. She laughed as she watched the snow falling. “Suddenly I’m a mess, mom. I miss you.”

A sound alerted her to a new message, and she wiped her face, slowly taking a seat in front of the screen.

JR10: My mother passed when I was 4. Holidays are always difficult. It was a car accident that took her, my father never really knew what to do with two young boys. Intimacy wasn’t exactly his thing. I miss her most around Christmas. She loved the snow. I don’t remember much about her, but I remember that she looked like an angel in the snow. What kind of advice do you need? Maybe I can help.

Emma smiled, happy that he had responded so quickly and didn’t mention anything about the previous awkwardness of her declining to meet him.

Lonelygirl: I don’t think you can help me.

JR10: Is it man trouble?

Lonelygirl: No definitely not. My business is in trouble.

JR10: I’m a great businessman, what kind of business do you have?

Lonelygirl: That’s rule #2 remember! No specifics.

JR10: Well, it’s going to be difficult to help without specifics, but I guess the best advice I can give you is that nothing in business is personal. It’s not personal, it’s business. Don’t go down without a fight. A man, or therefore woman, unwilling to fight for what they want, deserve what they get. You told me that you worried about not being brave in life. This is your chance. Fight to the death.

Emma closed her laptop and looked in the mirror. “It’s not personal, it’s business.” She narrowed her eyes. “It’s not personal, it’s business.” She said louder as August walked into the room.

“What’s not personal?”

“Jones Books.” She announced. “I’m going to war. And I want you to help me fight them.” August walked over and lifted her off the ground, spinning her around.

“There’s my girl. Let’s take it to the man.”

~*~

“You are what you read, save your soul, boycott Jones Books.” Killian glared at the poster attached to the window of his store. Ripping it from the glass he stormed into the store, marching to the back and into Belle’s office. “What is this crap?”

“They’re all over the streets, I’m finding them on the back of the registers, on my car. That little bookstore that none of you cared about, means business. Did you know they got that podcaster, August Booth to devote an entire hour of his next show comparing us to sharks that attack children on the beach?”

“Of course she did, I believe she’s dating the man.”

“Who is?”

“Emma, the owner of Golden Swan Books.”

“You know her?”

“Might have met her once.”

“Oh God.” Belle recoiled and reached for her remote on her desk, turning the volume up on the television above their head.

“I’m here with Emma Swan, owner of the quaint children’s bookstore Golden Swan Books. The store is struggling to remain open under the constant attack of the new super store Jones Books that opened down the block. Emma how are you?”

“Thank you for having me, you know I just want to say that Jones Books may have cheap books and wonderful coffee selections, but most of their employees have never even read a book in their life.”

Killian groaned. “She’s a real pain in the ass.”

“Is she now?” Bell mused. “I’m sure she’s not nearly as beautiful in person as she is on television.” She smirked.

“Oh no, she’s gorgeous, but a bloody pain in the ass.”

“You don’t feel bad that you are basically destroying her livelihood?”

“It’s not personal…”

“It’s business.” She finished for him.

“Besides, I’m not physically doing this, it’s the company. I’m not this big bad guy here. I’m just doing my job.” He complained. “I sell discounted books. So, sue me. Because of me, more people get to…OH MY GOD…buy books.” He dramatically paced the office, his hands flailing as Belle looked on with a smile. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged, looking back down at her computer.

When Killian left the store an hour later it was to a line of people holding signs and screaming in his face. “One, two, three, four, we don’t want this superstore.”

~*~

Emma stared at the papers in front of her. “Wait, so it made no difference at all?”

“Sorry, dear, doesn’t look like it. In fact, we’ve lost more this month than we did the previous three before their store even opened.”

Emma exhaled loudly. “So, we lost?” Her shoulders hunched and she felt the air inside of her deflate. “What would mom do?”

“I don’t know, dear, but the store looks lovely.”

Emma smiled weakly as the woman left the office, slumping against her desk, she cried softly. She walked home in the rain, not even bothering to shield herself from the conditions. By the time she reached her apartment her clothes were soaked to her skin, her hair dripping onto the tile floor, and her tears were drowned by the moisture.

Sinking down at her desk, she opened her laptop and typed.

Lonleygirl: I need help. Do you still want to meet?

Emma tapped her nails on the keyboard, waiting anxiously for a reply. It didn’t take long for her to get one.

JR10: I’m happy to help. Do you know the Diner on 83rd? Friday, 7pm?

“Wait, you’re meeting him?” Ruby gaped.

“Like in person? That’s bloody dangerous, Emma.” Will scolded.

“You both are being ridiculous. We’re meeting in a public place. It’s fine.” She folded her arms across her chest and turned toward the older woman in the room. “Tell them Grans.”

“There are worse ways to meet men.” She laughed.

“Did you tell August?” Ruby inquired.

“No.” She said as she lowered her head. “He’s out of town this weekend. Some podcast convention in Los Angeles.”

“Aye, so that makes it alright to meet strange men you’ve been chattin’ with online?”

“I’m not going to stay long; we’re just eating food. That’s all.” She protested as Will made a gesture that indicated a sexual act. Emma groaned and punched him in the shoulder. “You’re disgusting. It’s just dinner. That’s all. 45 mins, an hour, tops.”

~*~

“I’m not even going to stay that long.” Killian protested as he and Belle walked the darkened streets.

“So how does this work? How are you going to know who she is?”

“She said she’ll have a book with a single rose.”

“A book, are you sure she doesn’t already know who you are?”

“It’s a common thing, from a book or something.” He mused and Belle rolled her eyes. “Do you think this is ridiculous, am I purposely trying to destroy a good thing with Milah?”

“Well, you do have a tendency to ruin things that could possibly lead to a future.” She laughed. “But I haven’t quite figured out why you and Milah are still together, honestly.”

“I love her.”

“Do you? Because I kinda think if you did, you wouldn’t be meeting up with random women you’ve been talking to online.”

Killian stopped walking and looked up at the door to the restaurant. “I can’t do this.” He started to turn away before spinning back toward the restaurant. “God, why do I need to meet this woman so badly that I can’t walk away?” He looked over at Belle. “Go look. Tell me if you can see her.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Killian. Do you want me to go in and have dinner with her too?”

“Only if she’s horrid.” He teased. “Please, Belle.” She climbed the stairs, peering through the window. “Do you see her?”

“Oh wow, she’s gorgeous.” Belle grinned. “Oh wait, no flower. Sorry.”

“Lass, this woman is a marvel. Even if she looks like her smiley face icon on discord, I may have no choice but to upend my life and marry her tomorrow.”

“Wait, I see a book.” Belle squealed, “And a flower…” She moved around the window. “The waiters in the way.” She peered again through the window. “Oh. Um…”

“What is it? Blonde, Brunette…is she a red head?”

“She’s gorgeous.”

“Bloody hell, I knew it.” He yelped.

“Yeah, definitely. I would say she’s as beautiful as Emma Swan.”

“The bookstore woman?” He asked confused.

“You said she was attractive.”

“Why are we even talking about Emma Swan right now?”

“Because, if you don’t like Emma Swan, you’re definitely not going to like this woman.”

“Why not?” Killian growled.

“Because she is Emma Swan.” Killian ran up the stairs, pushing himself against Belle and peering into the restaurant.

“Bloody hell.” He watched as Emma sat at the table, a soft smile across her lips, adjusting the book and the flower on the table as she nervously watched the door. Killian sighed and turned away from the door, walking back to the sidewalk.

“Where are you going?” Belle said loudly. “You’re just gonna let her sit there alone?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“But she’s lonelygirl, you were desperate to know who she was just ten minutes ago.”

“Goodnight Belle.” He said sadly, walking back toward his apartment.

~*~

Emma stared anxiously at the door, inspecting every person who walked through the entrance. When a tall man entered, smiling at her as he turned the corner, she stood up to greet him only for another woman to rush toward him, pulling her into his arms. Emma sat down, feeling dejected, her stomach tied in knots from disappointment. She couldn’t believe JR10 stood her up.

Maybe he was too good to be true.

“Ma’am, do you want your check?”

“No, can I have another glass of wine, please.” The waiter smiled and nodded sadly at her.

“Excuse me Ma’am.” Emma looked up excitedly at a young man standing next to her table. Ok he was a little younger than she expected, but age didn’t matter, right? “Are you using this chair?”

Emma narrowed her eyes as he started to remove the other chair from her table. “Put it down.” She bit her lip. “Sorry, I’m using it, I have a date, he’s coming.” The man apologized and Emma hollered after him. “He’s late.” She groaned as the door swung open and she felt like everything was moving in slow motion until it came to a screeching halt.

Killian Jones. Are you fucking kidding me?

He walked past her table, and she saw him react when he recognized her. His hands traced her table before picking up her book and making a face. She grabbed it from his hands and placed it back on her table. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” He said, taking a seat across from her.

“I’m sorry, but that seat is taken.”

He looked around with an air of arrogance, “Is he invisible? Do you have an invisible friend now?” He stood and apologized to the chair.

“Would you please leave.”

He had the nerve to bow, which made her blood boil. But instead of walking away, he took the table behind her, sitting down and leaning closer to her. “You know I’ve read that book.”

Emma looked down at her book. “You’ve read Pride and Prejudice?”

“I think you’d find a lot of things surprising about me, if you actually knew me.”

Emma glared at him, “If I got to know you I bet I’d find a cash register instead of a brain and instead of a heart, a bottom line.” Her mouth dropped.

“What’s wrong?” He replied after seeing the look on her face.

“I just did something I’ve never been able to do before. When confronted by a terrible and insensitive person, I knew exactly what to say, exactly at the right time.”

“I must agree, congratulations, it was the perfect mixture of poetry and mean spiritedness.”

“Mean spirted? I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t be offended, I was paying you a compliment, lass.”

“Please leave, I beg you.” She said on the verge of tears.

She reached into her purse, pulling out her handkerchief and dabbing the corners of her eyes.

“You know what that reminds me of? The first time we met.” He said reverently.

“You mean the day you lied to me when you were spying on me.”

“Hey, I never lied to you.”

She snorted. “Yeah whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The door opened and they both turned toward the door. A short man with an angry face entered the room. “I’m going to venture a guess that this is not him either. Who could your mystery man be? Will you be mean to him too?”

“Of course I won’t because the man I’m meeting is nothing like you. He’s kind and sweet and a much better man than you.”

“Except that he’s stood you up, it’s bad form to leave a lady waiting.”

“If he’s not here, then he has a good reason. Because there isn’t a mean bone in his entire body. But you wouldn’t know that because you’re just a jerk in a leather jacket who thinks he’s better than everyone else.” She turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And that’s my cue to leave.” He said softly, in a voice that sounded almost disappointed. But Emma didn’t care, all she wanted was to be alone.

~*~

“Somewhere inside that hard exterior must be the same woman who writes to you online, maybe underneath it all she’s just…”

“A real bitch.” He replied to Belle. “Can we not talk about Emma Swan? I’m going back to the office.” He said with annoyance, walking out of the back office and slipping out of the store onto the street. He hated that this woman was still driving him mad. She was a thorn in his side, infuriating, and troublesome and yet all he could think about was the way she wrote to him, the way he waited anxiously just to see that message pop up on screen.

More than anything, he missed her.

~*~

“So, he stood you up?” Ruby said angrily.

“Or he got injured.” Emma interjected and Will laughed. “Seriously, what if he had an accident on the way to restaurant? What if he’s lying in a hospital bed right now?”

“What if he’s a bloody murderer and he was meeting up with you to kill you?”

“Will!” Ruby exclaimed.

“I’m not bloody kidding, remember that murder at my apartment a few weeks back? They caught the guy, last night!” He pulled out his phone, searching for the information and holding up the screen to show them a picture of the man who was arrested the previous night.

“Oh my God.” Emma said cupping her hand over her mouth.

“Emma, that’s not him.” Ruby said rolling her eyes.

“But what if it is.”

“You’re making excuses, so you don’t feel sad about getting stood up, I get it, I do.”

Emma frowned; she knew her friend was right. She was sad, and maybe a little bit angry at JR10 for standing her up. Even though he hadn’t sent her a message since last night, perhaps she needed to let him know how she felt.

Lonelygirl: I’m thinking about you. Last night I went to meet you and you didn’t show up. I wish I could understand why. I feel like such a fool. But while I waited for you to arrive, another man showed up. A man who has effectively been trying to ruin my professional life. But the most amazing thing happened, for the first time in my life, I was able to say exactly what I wanted at exactly the right time. But just as you said, I immediately felt regret for saying them. I was mean, and I’m never mean. And even if it didn’t hurt him, because honestly, he just thinks of me as a bug to crush under his feet, but what if it did hurt him? I behaved badly and that made me sad. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I consider you a dear friend, and I hope you had a good reason for not being there tonight, but if you didn’t and we never speak again, then I want you to know how much this time with you has meant to me. How much it has meant just to know you were there.

Emma shut down her laptop, wiping the tears from her eyes and crawling into bed.

~*~

Killian paced in front of his desk, reading the message from Emma again. He stopped for a moment, glaring at the screen before walking away and getting a bottle of rum from his kitchen. He poured a glass and took a sip. He wasn’t going to reply to her. He would just let it end this way and be done with this charade.

He poured another glass and walked toward his desk, turning sharply, and heading to the living room. Sitting down on the couch he turned on the television and his vision blurred to the sounds of some mindless television show playing out ridiculous scenes on screen.

Sipping his glass, he swallowed, the warm liquid coating his throat as it slid into his belly. “Fuck.” He cursed, standing up and walking back to his desk. Looking at the screen he re-read the message from Emma for the fourth time that evening.

Fine, he thought. I’m actually going to do this.

JR10: I’m in Vancouver.

He laughed and hit the backspace button, deleting what he had written.

JR10: I was stuck in a meeting; a microburst took out the entire block so there was no way I could reach out.

“Ridiculous.” He said out loud, erasing the message again.

JR10: I cannot explain what happened last night, but I feel terrible, love. I wasn’t there for you and instead I caused you more pain. I’m sure that whatever you said last night was provoked, even deserved. You expected to find someone you trusted and met the enemy instead. I truly am sorry; the fault is mine alone. I hope that one day I will be able to explain to you what happened, in the meantime, I’m here for you. Please talk to me.

~*~

“So, he didn’t tell you why he didn’t show up?”

“Nope, just that he would explain another time.”

“Sounds like a scam to me.” Ruby said, biting her lip.

Mrs. Lucas cleared her throat. “What have you decided, dear?”

Emma frowned, sipping her tea slowly. “I don’t think we have a choice. We’re going to have to close.”

“Emma, I’m so sorry.” Ruby offered beside her.

“I feel like such a failure, like I’m just giving up, letting him win. It feels like mom is…”

“Oh, sweet girl, closing the store doesn’t keep her alive. No matter how much you want it to.”

Emma cried that evening, staring at empty shelves, barren walls, a darkened store that would forever be gone. She imagined her mother, looking down at her while she danced in circles around her legs. Had she really lost or was this just her being brave? Maybe trying something new was the brave thing to do? Letting go of the past, her safety net.

As she sat across from August, staring at him while he spoke between bites, she realized that for the first time in her life, she could be anything that she wanted.

“I have an Amazon prime account.” She announced.

He paused, “What?”

“I know, I know, they are evil incarnate, but when I buy something, I get it the next day and that’s pretty awesome and I should have told you, but I didn’t.” She let the statement hang in the air.

“Since when do you shop online?”

“I know, I suppose you could never be with someone that buys items online from large corporations.”

He laughed. “Forget about it, I forgive you. It’s fine.”

Emma glared at him. “You forgive me?” She took a long drink of her wine while August stared at her with concern growing on his face.

“What’s wrong Emma?” Suddenly the dam burst, and tears started to stream down her face. “Hey, don’t do that. Emma, it’s alright. This has been a tough week with the store closing.”

“It’s not that though, August, I need…”

“That was insensitive of me.”

Emma sniffled. “What was?”

“To bring up the store, when you’re having a hard time and I’m the one who’s…” He took a quick drink and reached out to take her hand. “Emma I don’t know how to say this. I think you are an amazing person, and honestly I’m so honored that you chose me because I know that means something to you and…”

“You don’t love me.” She said suddenly realizing what he was trying to tell her. He frowned, squeezing her hand and Emma burst into a fit of giggles. “That’s wonderful news, I don’t love you either.”

“But we’re so right for each other.” He mused.

“I know, it doesn’t make sense. Is there someone else?”

“Nothing that’s happened, but there is a woman, I don’t know. What about you? Is there someone else for you?”

Emma sighed sadly. “No, but there is the dream of someone else.”

#love war and books #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au

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sailtoafarawayland · 3 years ago

Text

Delirious (Entwined Series)

Summary: The show hadn't stayed on their radar for very long, eventually drifting to the nether reaches of their watch list, but parts of it lingered in the back of her mind – and from the looks both Killian and Hook sometimes gave her, the way they had started testing her boundaries when they made love, she knew her reaction to what they'd seen wasn't far from their minds either...

Series Information: A series of connected one-shots following the polyamorous relationship of Emma, Killian, and Hook. Each piece can be read standalone and is non-linear, but together will reveal some backstory. Tags/warnings that are specific to each piece will be posted at their heading.

Rated: Explicit

Relationships/Alternate Tags: Emma/Killian/Hook, light dom/sub, light bondage, come sharing, come swallowing

Many thanks to @hollyethecurious for the lovely cover art!

AO3 - FF

Delirious

Emma's body was not her own, floating somewhere, each touch against her skin was a ripple of cold electricity, the rise and swell of each part of her an instrument being played by someone else – her soft moans the background to the blood roaring through her like a tidal wave. She shifted as much as she could, tugging helplessly at her restraints as she was rocked into the mattress over and over, just enough play in the silky cloth that she could bend and stretch her joints, but not enough that she could escape from her position, her arms and legs drawn toward each corner of the four post bed.

Like something unstoppable, she could feel it building again as Hook rolled his body into her, the pleasure coiling and writhing and snapping deep inside, barreling through her and flying from her mouth on a silent cry, her voice nearly gone altogether as what may have been her fourth – she couldn't keep track anymore – orgasm tore through her.

It had started innocently enough, as these things often did for them, a lazy night flipping through Netflix in search of the perfect distraction – and then she'd paused just a little too long on one of the shows.

Bonding.

“What's that, love?” Killian had asked, taking her inaction for interest, and perhaps it was.

“Oh, I'm not sure, I just – ” She could tell them anything, she reminded herself “ – it looks interesting, don't you think?”

And though her two pirates had shared a mutual look that crossed her field of view, the darkened living room stayed silent as the three of them watched the scenes play out – the hot pink dungeon room and red X-frame dominating the center, crops and dildos decorating the wall, the client stretched on a table with a riding crop tickling his cheek, fingers knotted in the black restraints holding him down.

She didn't have to hide the flush in her cheeks from them, or the way she wriggled on the couch trying to sat the wet desire throbbing in her core – but it wasn't the scenes from the show playing out that were making her hot – it was the thought of being tied up and helpless between the both of them, unable to move as they took what they needed and brought her to the edge of oblivion over and over.

The show hadn't stayed on their radar for very long, eventually drifting to the nether reaches of their watch list, but parts of it lingered in the back of her mind – and from the looks both Killian and Hook sometimes gave her, the way they had started testing her boundaries when they made love, she knew her reaction to what they'd seen wasn't far from their minds either...

“Come back to me, Emma,” Hook growled, moving wetly within her, the familiar rumble of his voice against her ear pulling her back to the present, to the stretch of his cock and the cooling stickiness of Killian's release smeared along her thighs, leaking from her with every pump of Hook's body. “Don't you leave me now, darling. Can you give me another?”

Emma whimpered as Hook pulled out of her entirely, slapping his rigid, heated shaft against her sopping folds, giving her a brief glimpse of his length coated with both her own arousal and the seed Killian had left inside of her. She felt delirious at the thought of it, her body nothing more than a object to be used for their pleasure until they were done – every part of her something hot and wet and needing to be filled. Fingers dragged along her breast like knives sparking pleasure, cold shivers rising to meet the throbbing, constant ache between her legs.

“I think our princess has forgotten why she's here,” Hook intoned darkly, dragging the ridge of his cock through her slick folds once more before slapping it directly against her clit, drawing a yelp of pleasure from her. “Why don't you remind her, mate.”

“Aye, we can't have that, now can we?”

The pull of Killian's nails along her rosy, peaked nipple stopped as he moved closer, the heat of his body replacing the cool sting they'd left behind as he straddled her chest, her breasts pressed firmly beneath his weight.

“Wake up, love,” Killian purred just as Hook slid himself back into her center, her hips bouncing against the mattress as he resumed fucking into her with abandon. “Open that pretty little mouth of yours and clean up this mess you've made.”

Emma's eyes flickered open, her breath a sharp inhale as she took in the sight of Killian's cock flexing in front of her face, half hard and swelling quickly at the mere thought of having it between her lips. His length was painted white with not only her own arousal, but the traces of his release that he'd pounded into her, filling her to the brim and then reveling in how it dripped from her folds and smeared her thighs as he continued to thrust – making certain she felt as used and wanton as she looked, whispering how beautiful her body was covered in his seed.

He looked positively sinful, his length stiff and bobbing in a matter of seconds, coated with the evidence of their debauchery while their other lover was still sinking himself vigorously into her dripping sex. She lunged forward against her restraints, the cloth pulling achingly as she latched her lips around the head of his cock and rolled her lips over him, moaning with relief when he dropped forward, his hand and forearm thumping into the headboard as he leaned over her and let his length slip slowly into her mouth, her tongue firm and insistent against the ridged underside as she sucked him down.

Her body freed from his weight on her chest, Hook's thrusts began pushing her backwards against the pillows she was resting on once more, Killian angled over her and fucking her mouth leisurely as she fought to keep his girth between her lips, tongue and mouth cleaning their joint essences from him.

“Is this what you wanted, Swan?” Killian moaned above her, his features shadowed and framed by the tousled, dark locks hanging down as he watched her, “to be tied up and used, filled with our seed until it runs down your legs – your tight little throat and mouth cleaning us off when we're finished?”

Emma keened, every ridge and vein of Killian's hardness running across her lips as she did her best to lave every drop from his skin, his words another burning addition the the feelings she could no longer control. Her body slipped further up the bed as Hook pounded viciously into her, his grunts of pleasure wavering as he drew near his own release, her restraints digging into her ankles as her body was forced away from Killian. She stretched as far forward as she possibly could, mouth open and waiting for the swollen head of Killian's cock that was now just out of reach, desperation rolling from her tongue on a cry until she was suddenly filled, Hook grabbing her hips and yanking her back down the bed – his fingers digging pleasantly into her flesh as he pistoned into her, her legs forced wider as he buried himself as deeply as possible.

Killian's cock was lying thick and heavy against her tongue once more as Hook finally came, his shaft swelling within her tight channel and filling her with warmth, pulsing ropes of his cum bathing her walls and running out of her as he pulled free with a groan.

“So bloody beautiful, darling,” he breathed. “Killian, get down here and look at our Swan.”

Emma whimpered as the comforting stretch of Killian's cock withdrew from her mouth, leaving her entirely empty as she watched him move around the bed to join Hook, his lips turning up in a wicked smirk as Hook spread her thighs open, further revealing her drenched slit, his release sliding from within her and running down the seam of her cheeks – her thighs and pink folds defiled with every bit of come and arousal that had been dragged out of her.

“Bloody hell, Emma,” Killian growled, his fist moving to his rigid shaft and pumping it lightly, “you look positively sinful so full of our seed, but I think you can do better. What do you say love?”

Hook ducked between her legs as Killian watched, his tongue running up her slit and lapping, lips sealing around her abused flesh and massaging as he sucked, her hips bucking toward him as she released a lengthy cry, nodding furiously at Killian as he ran his palm down his length and cupped his balls, weighing them as if to see how much more he could leave inside of her.

“Yes...fuck...yes, more, Killian,” she gasped, her legs jerking at the restraints as Hook's tongue swirled inside of her wet sheath before pulling away, his lips and scruff glistening as he smirked from between her legs and crawled up her body.

“Open your mouth then, love,” Killian warned, taking the place Hook had vacated and stroking the velvety head of his cock over her folds. “If you want me to take you once more like the filthy, come-filled wench you are, then you'll open your mouth and swallow down every drop you're given.”

Emma's body shook at his commands, anticipation scorching along her skin as she snapped her mouth open and Hook leaned over her, his supple lips opening as he met the bitten flesh of her own, the combination of their warm releases sliding from his mouth into hers, slipping down her tongue and into her throat as he pushed for entry, his tongue curling over hers and sharing every sinful taste of himself – of her, of Killian.

Hook groaned, his fingers knotting in her golden locks as his chest scraped across her breasts, the scratch of his thick chest hair against her nipples making her moan, every inch of her body tingling and edging closer to a pulsing, consuming chaos – and Killian hadn't even entered her yet.

“That's a good girl,” Killian purred from between her legs, and without any further warning, he sheathed his entire length inside of her, meeting no resistance as what was left of Hook's lingering release was pushed from inside of her, coating them both once more in slick arousal, “our good, good girl...”

It was almost immediate, her body to sensitive to resist, another orgasm ripping through her with no control as she arched against the bed before falling heavily back down. Killian fucked her through it, broken words falling from his lips as she felt his thrusts falter for a moment, his cock slipping almost entirely out of her as something pulled at her ankles – and then they were freed, her thighs burning as Killian lifted both her legs and tossed them over his shoulders, rising up on his haunches and pushing back in to fill her, his thick cock nudging the very entrance to her womb.

“Over here, Emma – we can't have you leaving a mess,” Hook teased, his words floating to her through a fog, the sudden weight of his palm turning her face to the side where his cock was waiting for her, softening and glistening with their juices.

She opened her mouth and stretched to take him in, the carnal knowledge that right now she was nothing more than a warm body for her two lovers to take their pleasure in, servicing them clean, enough to wash any discomfort from her limbs as Killian rammed himself into her, his balls slapping against her ass, each impact of his hips driving her farther into a swirl of ecstasy that seemed unending.

“No, I don't think so,” Hook chided, pulling his cock just out of reach of her questing mouth. “Just your tongue, darling.”

Emma couldn't help the needy groan that fell from her lips, the filthy things they were doing to her, asking of her – giving her the things she'd asked for, things she'd only dreamt about, had never voiced aloud before...

Hook shivered as she stuck out her tongue, dragging it slowly along his shaft as he moved closer, lapping at the release clinging to him and swallowing it down as she worked her way around him. Killian's pace was unrelenting as he pounded into her, her body rocking solidly into the bed, each thrust he made echoed by the delicious sounds of their lovemaking, his cock dragging from her wet, swollen depths before plunging back in. Hook moaned as Emma laved the tip of his member, her lips rolling and pushing back skin as she sucked every bit of herself from his hardening flesh – good god, she didn't think she could go again.

She drew in a sharp breath at the feel of Killian's teeth marking her leg, his hips stilling for a moment at the end of each thrust as he savored being surrounded by her depths, her walls clutching at his girth. She felt delirious with the sensations they were both pulling from her, her awareness of everything beyond the way they felt inside of her gone – every inch of her skin aflame and the core of her being as thick and fluid as molten lava.

She moved with purpose down the underside of Hook's cock as he angled nearer, his hand lifting its weight when she nosed against the damp skin of his sack, caressing each heavy globe with the flat of her tongue before trying to roll its fullness into her mouth – but with her hands still tied, she couldn't get what she wanted, and a whimper of desperation fell from her as she tried to wriggle closer.

“Does my filthy princess need her mouth filled?” Hook crooned, Emma nodding insistently against his pebbled flesh, her nose nudging the delicate globe inside, “and how do you ask nicely, love?”

“Please,” she groaned, mouthing at what she could reach, wanting to feel the weight of each delicious sphere sliding into her mouth. “Please, I need it...need you...”

“Give our dirty minx what she needs,” Killian growled from between her legs, his thrusts becoming erratic as sweat dripped along his neck to settle at the edge of his collarbone, “keep that mouth of hers sated while I fill up the rest of her, Jones.”

A wave of satisfaction roared through her, tingling along her legs and pooling at her fingertips as Hook pressed forward and gave her what she was craving, his cock resting heavily against her face as he used his fingers to cup his balls and hold them steady while she sucked one in, earning a groan from both of her pirates at the sight. Humming around the deep, satisfying taste of him, Emma rolled her tongue beneath the heavy weight, wishing she could hold them both in the warmth of her mouth. She felt the slow bump of his fingers moving along his shaft, his skin slick with her saliva as he lazily stroked himself above her, and she carefully dragged her teeth over the taut skin of his sack, letting him drop free as he moaned, drinking in her swollen lips and body flushed to perfection as she rocked beneath Killian's exertions.

With almost no warning, the tension in Emma's body flooded free, the spiral of bliss that had felt never ending becoming a perfect ache that rolled over her once more, her pleasure drawn out of her on a wordless cry as her senses trembled between feeling too much and nothing at all, her walls contracting tightly as Killian continued to slide in and out of their grasp, his cock swelling as he prepared to fill her once more.

“Gods, you're a bloody vision,” Hook breathed, dropping to seize her lips with his own, her body twisting as she tried desperately to find equal ground with him, but it was impossible until he relented, hastily untying one of her restraints so that she could meet him in turn. Her muscles burned as she grabbed his hair and tugged him against her, her moans swallowed by the heat of his mouth as Killian cried out with his release, the thick length of his cock throbbing hotly within her as he mouthed the bruised flesh of her leg and held his shaking hips firmly against her body.

He thrust into her twice more, a shiver racing along his spine as her soft whimpers and the slowly ebbing pull of her flesh drained every last drop of his essence, his body falling heavily forward as he let her legs drop back to the bed. His forehead was resting hot and sweaty below her breasts as she shuddered the last of her orgasm from her body, her fingers combing through both of her lovers' tousled locks contentedly.

“That was...”

“Something we'll have to repeat,” Emma murmured, feeling the fresh slip of Killian's release smearing between them as he shifted, every inch of her body feeling deliciously used in a way she knew she would feel for days to come.

END

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmom0f4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop @karlyfr13s

#Captain Swan #cs fanfic #CS fic #emma and hook #sailtoafarawayland #entwined #wish hook #m/f/m

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thanatosangels · 4 years ago

Note

CONGRATS ON 100 MAE!!! i love your writing, so can i get a 🥰 for kitty?

THANK YOU SO MUCH OMGGG!! <333 this is way longer than i meant it to be but i had so much to say hahhaha

~~~~~

I shouldn't have come.

It was Kit’s first thought as soon as he stepped through the portal.

Holy shit, its hot. That was the second.

Despite growing up in LA, the three years he’d spent in the English rain had clearly changed his body’s temperature regulations. He was used to all encompassing grey dampness - seriously, how can one country have four seasons but they’re all just different variations of rain? - and the scorching sun hurt his eyes and made him sweat uncomfortably.

He took a deep breath, remembered all the advice about ‘just being himself’ that his dad had given him, and made his way up the path.

Inside the LA Institute was much the same hustle and bustle as before. It was like stepping into one of his dreams. Kit was greeted with a whirlwind of kind words and hugs, swiftly chased into the kitchen and handed a steaming cup of tea - “because, you know, you're English now!” Dru smiled brightly - and a chocolate chip cookie. Everybody was asking how he was, what he’d been up to, how were Mina, and Jem, and Tessa, how was his training going. Emma was particularly interested in the answer to that last question, and pulled him aside later to suggest training together so she could give him all kinds of tips and tricks. He realised, with a jolt, that he was slightly taller than her now.

The only person who didn’t greet him was Ty.

As he absentmindedly answered everybody’s questions, he glanced around the kitchen anxiously. Ty was the reason he was here. Maybe not officially, and maybe it wasn't something Kit wanted to tell everyone, but it was the truth regardless. After everyone was finished, and people began to wander away to get back to their day, Kit pulled Julian aside.

“Hey, do you... uhm...,” He ran a worried hand through his hair. “Have you seen Ty?”

Julian gave him a sad sort of half smile. “I think he went down the beach.”

-----------

The water was even bluer than he remembered, and the sand was warm between his toes. He made his way along the beach, trainers and t-shirt in hand. It was too hot for either of them. He was glamoured, so he wasn't worried about mundanes seeing the Marks that now twined their way along his strong arms and chiseled stomach. Sometimes, he had to do a double take when he looked in the mirror because he still didn’t recognise himself, even now. He still thought of himself as the scrawny, lanky, awkward-looking boy of years past.

He kept scanning the beach over and over again, looking for any sign of Ty. There were none.

He kept walking.

He kept walking until he recognised the cave that Ty and he had met with Shade - well, Ragnor Fell - in and a sudden pang shot through his heart at the memory. He walked in slowly, automatically reaching for the witchlight Ty had given him, when he realised he didn’t need it. The cave was already lit.

Kit froze in the small, corridor like hollow at the front of the cave. He stared, wide eyed, at various candles that were littered around the room, the books that were stacked neatly in the corner, and the small, wooden table and camping chair that sat in its centre. But mostly, he stared at the figure sitting at the table. Beautiful. His head was bent over a small gaming console, the Herondale necklace hanging next to Livvy’s locket at his throat, long fingers moving rapidly, black hair curtaining his face, headphones over his ears. Kit blinked, sure he was seeing things, but no.

He’d found Ty.

He drank in the image of him in the dim light. He was taller now, his legs longer, but he had the same slender build. Kit saw the small muscles rippling in his arms under the grey t-shirt he was wearing as his fingers worked. He nearly collapsed. It had been so long, so long since he'd held him on the roof of the London Institute, so long since he’d told him that he loved him, so long since he’d watched him from afar on the beach for the final time, and yet he still felt his heart rate increase and he still wanted to run his hands through the muddle of black hair on his head and he still wanted to part his lips with his own. He still felt the same.

Ty must have sensed the fact he was being watched then, because he turned his head and looked at Kit. His grey eyes, shining like two silver rings in the candlelight, widened in surprise and he stopped playing his game. He was staring at Kit’s chest.

Kit was suddenly acutely aware of the fact he didn’t have a top on. He felt himself flush.

Ty pulled his headphones off, putting them around his neck. The inside of Kit’s wrist throbbed at the sight.

The silence was deafening. They were both just staring; Kit at Ty’s earphones, Ty at Kit’s chest.

Finally, after what was probably seconds but felt like hours, Kit had to say something.

“Uhm.... hey.” He gave a small, awkward wave. Smooth, dumbass.

Ty flicked his eyes away and stared fixedly at the cave wall directly ahead of him. His mouth was in a hard line, and his right hand was tapping out a fast rhythm on the arm of his chair. Kit swallowed hard.

“Why did you leave me?” Ty said, his voice barely above a whisper

Kit felt his heart break in two, right then and there. Tears welled up in his eyes. It took everything in him not to go over and put his arms around Ty, but he knew he wouldn't want that. He dropped to his knees instead, bending his head so his blonde hair would hide his face.

“Because,” his ragged voice caught in his throat. “Because I loved you. Because I still love you, even now. Because you're the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen. Because I want to be near you all the time.” Every thought, every word, he’d been holding in for three years seemed to be tumbling out. He didn’t stop them. “Because you make me laugh. Because I want to be there for you. Because i dream about you. Because i need you.” He put his head in his hands as a sobbed racked his body. He could feel Ty looking at him.

“You left because you love me?” The confusion was clear in Ty’s voice.

Kit took a deep, shaky breath. “Yes. But I mainly left because you don’t love me.” It was not accusatory: his voice was hollow and tinny in his own ears.

“But Kit, I do love you.”

Kit snapped his head up.

“What?”

“I do love you.” Ty got up, placed his console on the table and came to sit cross legged in front of Kit, looking directly into his eyes. “Why do you think I’m in this cave? Why do you think I’m wearing this necklace?” He pointed at the Heron. Kit shrugged. “I’m here because this is a place we were together. I come here when i want to be with you. And I wear this because it’s the closest thing I have to being yours. It makes me feel closer to you.” Ty looked down at his hands then, and even in the dim light, Kit could see he was blushing.

“But... but....” It was Kit’s turn to be confused now. “Why didn’t you come to see me today? I had to come and find you. You weren’t there.” He was aware he sounded like a whining child, but he couldn't help it.

"I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to say, and i didn’t know want to say anything in front of the others, and i thought you might...” His voice wavered. “I thought you hated me.”

“Oh, Ty,” Kit reached out for his hand, instinctively, and Ty let him take it. “I could never hate you, not ever.”

Kit turned his own wrist over to show the small outline of Ty’s headphones he had tattooed there. Ty traced it with his finger wonderingly. His touch sent chills all the way through Kit’s body.

“I have spent the last three years waking up every morning and loving you even more than i did the day before, even when i didn’t think that was possible.” Kit’s voice was low and steady. Ty laced their fingers together. “I have spent the last three years dreaming about you, and crying when i realise you're not there.” Kit leaned forward, putting his face level with Ty’s. “I have spent the last three years running away from the best person i’ve ever met,” he dropped his voice to a low whisper. “But i don’t I don’t want to run anymore.”

And then his lips were on Ty’s, and everything in the world made sense.

#kitty #mae 100 #kitty fanfiction #the dark artifices #tda #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #dru blackthorn #julian blackthorn #emma carstairs #tsc #the shadowhunters chronicles #shadowhunters #tessa gray #jem carstairs #mina carstairs #tsc fanfiction

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homeformyheart · 4 years ago

Text

i don’t feel so alone anymore - noah harris x mc (mtfl)

author’s note: i had to repost this due to blog access issues. this was an idea i had early on when my two first loves started and takes place before mason and ava break up. i used the farmer’s almanac to pick specific flowers to reference in this fic. the meaning of white jasmine is “sweet love, amiability” and pink camellias represent “longing for you,” which i thought was fitting for noah. the other two flowers are defined in the fic.

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. moodboard created by me. series/pairing: my two first loves - noah harris x mc (emma rating/warnings: 13+; minor grief, mourning word count: 3.3k summary: it’s the third anniversary of emma’s mother’s passing and the price family have plans to visit her grave. noah finds out and offers emma his heart in support.

i don’t feel so alone anymore

the day was here again. i can’t believe it’s been three years, emma thought to herself as she grabbed a black sweater dress and pulled on a pair of black tights. am i really going to wear all black today? screw it, she thought, pulling on her calf-length black leather boots as well. she didn’t want to spend another minute thinking about her outfit or school. she just needed to make it to lunch.

emma sighed and pulled out a photo album from the bookshelf on her desk, opening it about three quarters of the way with practiced ease. she couldn’t help but smile at the photo in front of her – the last time her family was complete and happy. she had just started her freshman year of high school and made the cheerleading squad.

“we need to celebrate! can we have 4 specials, including milkshakes, and the family-sized ice cream sundae for dessert?” mrs. price ordered in rapid-fire succession, before everyone had even settled into the booth.

“mom, you know we’re not going to be able to finish all of that!” emma said, trying to be serious but failing to stop the wide grin on her face.

mr. price put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “it must be a special occasion if we’re getting the ice cream sundae.”

mrs. price looked pointedly at her husband, but the twinkle in her eye suggested she was teasing. “of course, it’s a special occasion. our little emma bear is a high schooler and a cheerleader!”

emma stuck her tongue out at the childish nickname her mom continued to use. “mom, don’t call me that!”

it was the last memory she had of her mother that she could look back on fondly, before she got sick. emma traced her mother’s face with her finger, her gaze lingering on the deep purple scarf with pink and gold flower detail and matching dangling earring set. she looked up at the box hidden in the top shelf inside her closet, where those same scarf and earring set were stored, untouched for the past three years. taking a deep breath, emma grabbed the box and pulled out the scarf first, running the soft fabric through her fingers before wrapping it delicately around her neck. she picked up the gold dangling earrings next, sliding them onto her ears, the pink and purple crystal flowers catching the soft light of the bathroom lights. her phone buzzed a few times and she glanced over at the notifications.

noah: [want a ride to school?]

mason: [hey emma, need a ride to school?]

it was the same every morning, except when mason was carpooling with ava. she stopped expecting texts from ava, after she decided that emma was trying to steal her boyfriend. however, she was not in the mood for any of the stupid drama today. she quickly texted a brief “no,” to both, put her phone on airplane mode, and followed her dad out to his car.

“i’ll pick you guys up at 12:00, right here,” mr. price said, looking over at emma and mackenzie, who just nodded and stepped out of the car.

emma looked over at her dad and noticed the tired look on his face. his eyes were red and puffy, like he had spent the night crying. “we’ll get through this together,” she said, softly.

mr. price met her gaze and smiled. “you look beautiful today, just like your mother did when she wore that scarf.”

emma felt her lips quirk up. “thanks, dad.” she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and stepped out.

she wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone today. she walked to her locker to grab her history textbook before heading to homeroom.

“look at miss goth-wannabe over there. going to a funeral?”

emma took a deep breath. she saw lauren and ava walking towards her out of the corner of her eye and turned away so she wouldn’t have to make eye contact. she blinked rapidly at the stinging feeling forming behind her eyes at lauren’s comment and quickly sat down in the back corner of the room, on the side of the room closest to the door. if she had looked at ava, she would’ve seen the conflict on her best friend’s face. but they weren’t really talking these days, and emma didn’t want to feel hurt and disappointed in case ava didn’t remember what today was. only four hours to go.

as soon as the bell rang that signaled the start of lunch, emma walked as fast as she could toward the school entrance. she was weaving around students heading to their lockers or the cafeteria, heading in the opposite direction, when someone grabbed her wrist. emma tried to yank her wrist away and whirled around to see who had grabbed her.

“hey emma, where are you rushing off to? is everything okay?” noah asked softly, still holding onto emma’s wrist.

emma looked up at him and her eyes softened at the genuine concern in noah’s eyes. she bit her lip as she debated internally whether to tell him the truth. there were only two people who really knew what happened freshman year and would understand why today was so significant, but of course, those were the two people she wasn’t really talking to much lately.

“my dad’s picking me up for lunch and i have a free period after. i’ll be back for practice,” she said finally, avoiding eye contact.

noah let go of her wrist and moved to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. the simple motion made emma’s heart flutter and her body tense. bringing her eyes up to meet his, emma let out breath she didn’t realize she was holding. noah’s gaze was soft, gentle, but inquiring in a vulnerable way. his hand lingered by her cheek and she subconsciously started to lean into his palm. as if on cue, noah brought his palm closer and emma felt his thumb gently stroke her cheek.

there was something about the look he was giving her that made emma want to let him in. “we’re going to visit my mom’s grave. she died three years ago today,” she said softly, dropping her gaze to the floor.

noah held her chin firm and lifted her face so she was looking at him again. “i’m so sorry,” he murmured. “it’s understandable why you’d want to avoid everyone today. what can i do?”

emma pulled back instinctively, startled, but noah’s grip on her chin held her in place. most people who had never lost a loved one usually asked, “are you okay?” and emma would say “i’m fine,” as if it were a reflex. if they hadn’t lost a loved one, sometimes she would get the unintentionally offensive “time heals all wounds,” that she’d respond to with silence until they awkwardly excused themselves from the conversation. this was the first time in a long time someone just acknowledged her pain and asked her what they could do to be supportive rather than presume she wanted to hear unsolicited advice.

“that’s really sweet. i don’t think anyone’s really asked me that before, so i don’t really know if there’s anything you can do. but i really appreciate it,” she said finally, feeling a small smile appear on her face.

“i have a free period after lunch too,” noah started slowly, bringing his thumb to stroke her bottom lip. “i could keep you company or provide you with a distraction. whatever you need.”

his voice never wavered but emma saw the uncertainty in his eyes that darted between her eyes and her lips.

emma smiled a little wider. “that sounds nice. maybe you can meet me at the graveyard after my dad goes back to work? i’ll text you.”

noah’s eyes seemed to brighten and soften at the same time. “you got it, emma,” he said and with one last, quick glance at her lips, he dropped his hand from her face.

as soon as his hand left her face, emma missed the warmth. her gaze dropped to his lips once, before moving back up to meet his in what she hoped would be seen as silently asking for permission. noah’s gaze darkened so slightly that emma wondered if she imagined it, before his soft lips were on hers. she wasn’t sure who moved first, maybe they both moved at the same time, but all she could focus on was noah. he was kissing her sweetly and gently, as if he were afraid of pushing too hard or overstepping, and it was just what she needed.

she finally pulled away after what felt like minutes even though it was probably a few seconds and smiled. “thank you,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze before walking out the door.

ten minutes later, emma slid into the booth next to mack at the diner they used to go at least once a week. now they went as a family a couple times a year, in the spirit of remembering her mom. both mack and her dad were quiet and staring at the menus in front of them.

“3 specials with milkshakes and an ice cream sundae?” she suggested, mustering an encouraging smile on her face as she looked at her dad.

mr. price’s face brightened a little. “that sounds perfect for today.”

mack rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop a smile from forming on her face. “i am definitely going to fall into a food coma after lunch.”

emma quickly put in their order, making sure to also ask for coffee for her dad. once the food came, the awkwardness dissipated a little as they reminisced about their favorite memories with their mom. emma noticed both mack and her dad’s expressions seemed a little lighter by the time they were ready to leave.

after the meal, and boxing up lots of leftovers, they headed to the graveyard after a quick stop at the florist to pick up a bouquet of pink calla and stargazer lilies. emma held tightly on to the bouquet the entire ride over, feeling a sting behind her eyes and trying to keep the tears at bay by blinking rapidly. her mom absolutely loved pink lilies in all forms and while looking down at the picture-perfect flowers in her hands, she could feel how much she missed her mom. she missed her so much it physically hurt.

all too soon, she’s standing in front of her grave and the large tombstone with only the left half filled out. her parents had bought a shared plot and tombstone when her mom got sick. it was one of her mom’s strengths – she was always thinking ahead to find ways to lighten the burden on her family, even if said burdens came. the design and inscription on the tombstone were thoughtfully designed and selected by her mom, so the message was especially poignant. it was also the way her mom removed the burden from her family of having to deal with the logistics of arranging everything while they were deep in their grief.

“i love you mom. and i miss you so much every day,” emma said softly, kneeling down to help her dad clear out the weeds in front of the stone before laying the bouquet down. i hope i’ve made you proud, she thought to herself, taking a few steps back to allow her dad and mack to have their own private moments.

mr. price stood between emma and mack with an arm around each daughter. he gave their shoulders a light squeeze and emma wrapped her arm around her dad’s waist to give him a one-armed hug.

“come on girls, i’ll give you a ride back to school,” he said as he started walking back toward the car. mack followed but emma hesitated.

“actually, i’d like to stay a little longer. i don’t have any more classes today so i just need to get back in time for practice. i can take the bus back,” emma explained, tensing as she waited for her dad’s reaction. to be honest, she expected him to get angry and go into a lecture about skipping school even if she had a free period, but he didn’t.

he was quiet for a few moments before nodding. “i’ll see you at home later. be careful,” he said, turning back around.

emma let out the breath she was holding. she ignored the 30 unread texts and 5 voicemails from mason and sent a quick text to noah, who arrived more quickly than she expected. she walked back toward the main path so he could see where she was and noticed that he was holding two bouquets.

“what’s this?” she asked, as they walked back to her mom’s grave.

noah looked at her sheepishly. “well, i wanted to bring you and your mom something. the hyacinth and gladiolus flowers are for your mom,” he said, pushing the bouquet in his right hand toward her.

emma bent her face down to take in the scent of the flowers. “these are beautiful. usually people just get roses or chrysanthemums. i don’t think i’ve heard of these before, why’d you pick them?”

“i did some research on the meaning of flowers. white hyacinths can represent prayers for someone, and gladiolus flowers represent remembrance,” he said, softly. “i wanted these to be special.”

emma felt her heart swell with warmth. “noah… you being here is special. but thank you, this is incredibly thoughtful.” she smiled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. she motioned for him to place the flowers next to her bouquet from earlier before turning back to the grave.

“mom, i want you to meet someone special. this is noah harris from school, a very important friend i made this year,” emma said softly, intertwining her fingers with noah’s and giving him a light squeeze.

“just a friend?” he teased softly.

emma blushed and tried to keep her gaze forward. “i, well, you’re special to me,” she stumbled, embarrassed.

noah squeezed her hand. “you’re special to me, too.” he turned to address the grave. “mrs. price, you have an amazing daughter. she tried so hard to become my friend when everyone else preferred to ignore me. i never thought i’d have someone like her in my life, someone who sees me for me and chooses to see good. i am so grateful that you raised her to be so kind and thoughtful.”

emma’s jaw dropped and she turned to look at noah’s face. even from his profile, she could tell he was being sincere, and very vulnerable. he turned to her with a soft smile and emma just felt like her insides were melting. she surged forward to kiss him, hard, letting go of his hand so she could wrap hers around his neck. noah took a step back in surprise but quickly regained his balance and held her waist firmly as he kissed her back. he pulled back shortly after to hand her the other bouquet, which emma had forgotten about. she took the bouquet from him and inhaled the perfume radiating off the pink and white flowers before looking back up at him.

“these are for you. white jasmine and pink camellias,” he said softly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

“thank you,” emma said, sighing happily when noah placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “and what do these flowers represent?”

noah was silent. emma looked up from the flowers at him curiously but he was avoiding her gaze. was he blushing? she couldn’t remember if she had ever seen him blush before and now, she was really curious about what these flowers represented.

“you’re blushing! now i really want to know. please or i’ll just look it up,” emma teased, elated at finally seeing noah blush.

noah turned to head back toward the main path, but not before he grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers. “i think i’d rather you look it up when you get home so you can’t tease me anymore today,” he said quickly as they made their way to his motorcycle.

“fiiiine, but i reserve the right to tease you about it tonight or tomorrow,” emma said, taking the spare helmet from noah.

he grimaced but emma could see the ghost of a smile twinkling in his eyes. she climbed behind him on the motorcycle and held tight as they made their way back to school. they walked hand-in-hand to the football field, ignoring the looks from everyone as they continued toward their respective locker rooms to get changed for practice. emma held on to her bouquet tightly and couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she chatted with noah the entire walk over.

if anyone was looking closely, which emma wasn’t, they would’ve noticed that noah wasn’t really saying anything but looking at emma adoringly as if everything she was saying was the most interesting thing ever. which it was, at least, to him. not even seeing ava being handsy with mason could put a damper on emma’s spirits as she said goodbye to noah before heading over to the bleachers for cheer practice.

“how good of you to come back for practice after skipping school at lunch,” lauren remarked sarcastically as emma started stretching. the entire cheer squad and even mason seemed to have gone silent, waiting for emma’s reaction or response.

emma took a deep breath and straightened up to look at lauren directly with a frostiness that seemed out of character. she could see ava and mason out of the corner of her eye look at her with concern. “i didn’t skip. my dad signs us out for a half day so we can visit my mom’s grave on the anniversary of her death every year. got a problem with that?” she stated, her voice unwavering. lauren’s eyes widened in surprise. “didn’t think so.”

“two laps everyone, now!” ava ordered. the other cheerleaders seemed relieved as they started jogging away from the bleachers. “emma, wait. can we talk?”

emma paused and turned to look at ava and mason. “em, i’m sorry. i tried texting and calling you all day,” mason said, hands clenching as though he was trying to keep himself from reaching out for her. emma knew what he was really saying, which was that either he was sorry he forgot it was the anniversary of her mom’s death and that emma would need all the support she could get from her friends or that he remembered and was sorry he didn’t try harder to reach out. maybe he was too preoccupied with ava.

emma gave both of her friends long, appraising looks. “is that all?” she said, a little inwardly surprised at her own indifference. ever since her two best friends started dating, instead of seeing them both more, she saw them even less. she thought she would feel less alone after coming back from wisconsin but being a third wheel threw a wrench in that. until she started getting to know noah.

“emma… you know we’re here for you,” ava said softly, her eyes searching emma’s face for cues.

emma thought back to how noah stopped her in the hallway before she left to meet her dad and the flowers he brought to the graveyard. “except you know, you actually weren’t there for me today,” she said, giving them both a piercing look. mason and ava seemed to both tense and inwardly withdraw.

“but don’t worry, i’m okay. more than okay, actually. for the first time in a long time, i’m happy and i don’t feel so alone anymore,” she said, more to herself than to them, as she turned to start jogging along the track.

she didn’t look back at the concerned looks on mason’s and ava’s faces but did wave to noah when she noticed he was looking at her. she still missed her mom every day, but today it didn’t hurt as much. and she knew who to thank for that.

* * * * * mentions: @nyastarlight; @khoicesbyk; @chetachisblog; @robintora; @shows-simp-card;

#choices fanfics #choices fanfiction #playchoices fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #my writing #reposting for new blog #my two first loves #noah harris x mc #mtfl noah #choices #pb choices #playchoices #not twc #my choices fics

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lassluna · 4 years ago

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Swan’s Hourglass (1/?)

Emma Swan had a mission. Find a place to start New Hyrule, her kingdom apparently. It was her mission as Princess or Savior or whatever. It’s going terribly if she’s honest. No one ever gave her Princess or Savior lessons growing up. She really has no idea how to be a Savior. She doesn’t even really want to in the first place.

But when the Demon Ship kidnaps her son and she gets stranded on a strange island with only an old woman and peppy fairy for help, Emma will have to do what she has to do to rescue her son, even if that means putting a certain self-proclaimed pirate captain in his place.

Legend Of Zelda AU

AN: I am SO EXCITED to start posting this. This has been in my documents for YEARS and I can’t wait to share what it is become. Thank you SO much @cssns for giving me a reason to commit to writing this. Thank you @spartanguard for being a fabulous beta and making sense of this thing, it would not be what it is without your fabulous input. Thank you @eastwesthomeisbest for creating such an amazing image, I love it to pieces!!!!

FFN Ao3

Prologue

“Our story begins not long ago; there was a young man, head to a band of lost boys, thieves of the kingdom. His name was Baelfire. Baelfire was cunning, smart and mysterious. They wanted to explore the unfamiliar land.

One day Baelfire met a young girl on her first adventure outside her parents’ home. She was young and curious and ready to make her own destiny.

After a series of strange events, the girl began traveling with the group as she’d become smitten with Baelfire. Through many adventures, they found old ruins, hoping to make off with treasure. Instead, however, light enveloped the girl, revealing that her lineage wasn’t just sheep farming as she once thought, but that it traced back to a line of legendary heroes known to their time as The Saviors. She was the lost princess prophesied to save her people from a terrible fate.

When her identity was revealed, a wicked witch appeared and carried the princess away from Baelfire as she knew that the Savior was destined to destroy her. Instead she sought to take her power for herself. She used her power to destroy the kingdom many years before.

Baelfire chased after the princess in order to rescue her. He crossed mountains and ocean, slayed terrible beasts in order to be reunited with his True Love. When he finally found her, the princess was not alone as she had been with child when she was taken and bore his son while in captivity.

They used their power to become true heros and slay the Wicked Witch once and for all, and the princess and her infant son were rescued at last. However, during the battle to rescue her, Baelfire sacrificed his life to ensure the safety of his family.

The princess decided to honor his memory and find a new land to restore her kingdom to what it once was, surrounded by her new family of Lost Boys…”

There is a loud sigh coming from a mop of dark hair.

“Come on, Henry? What did you think?” insists a voice. It’s the same voice as the one who told the story. He is tall and skinny, dressed in traditional sailor’s wear with hair a slight shade darker and freckles all over his face.

She always enjoys listening to her friend’s storytelling from a distance.

“Boring,” came the reply, much to her amusement.

“What? How?” the story teller says again in surprise.

“Johnnn,” Henry groans. “You tell the same story every time,” he says in exasperation. “You don’t even add to it.” He looked up at her from the lower deck as she stood on an upper section watching him. “At least Mom sometimes tells me of Dad’s adventures,” he insists, standing up from where he’d been sitting and stretching. “You were there, shouldn’t you know more than Mom about this?” he asks skeptically. “Mom was captured when all the exciting stuff happened.”

She watched as the man looked up at her, exchanging a careful look with her. She keeps her gaze firm.

It was a very direct, don't you dare.

“I’m forgetful,” John retorts to her son.

“You’d forget years of your life?” Henry asks, yet again. “I still don’t buy that.”

She could tell that Henry was starting to get around John’s story, as he always was. Ever since Henry was a toddler, he’d always been so curious. Now that he was growing up, he’d become desperate for more details, more information, more of anything interesting, especially details of his father.

Her kid was growing up so fast…

“Henry,” she calls out, making him notice her for the first time. She stands overlooking the lower decks. “Aren’t you supposed to be on lookout?” she asks. “You know the Captain wouldn’t like it if her first mate is slacking on the job,” she teases.

Henry’s eyes light up, all thoughts of the story gone from his head.

Well, not that fast. She muses silently.

“Oh yeah!” he says excitedly, “We’re looking for the Demon Ship,” he reminds her, grabbing John’s hand and darting off towards the edge of the ship. She could hear him rambling about it from the other side of the vessel.

“You know Emma,” says a new voice. Emma had had a suspicion she had been listening too. “You’re going to have to tell him the truth eventually.” Emma didn’t look back at her.

“What I tell my son about his father is my business,” Emma reminds the Captain. “You promised me you’d honor that,” she reminds her. The last thing she needs is someone telling her how to raise her kid.

“I just think that Henry’s a smart kid and will figure it out. Shouldn’t it come from you and not when Michael and John have conflicting stories?” she presses. Emma turns towards the brunette sea captain, looking her straight in the eyes. Captain Wendy Darling did not waver.

“We’ve been over this a dozen times Captain,” Emma says as politely as possible. “I will protect Baelfire’s legacy, Henry’s hero until I see fit to tell him otherwise,” He’s her kid, and the last thing she needed was for him to dwell on the past; lord knew she dwelled on it enough.

“I just think—“ But Emma cuts her off.

“Bae’s already dead; what good will the truth do any of us?” she snaps. Wendy raises a brow.

“Maybe it would let your son see you less as a damsel and more as a hero, Savior,” Wendy replies with an almost whimsical sound at the word ‘Savior’ and it fills Emma with dread. “Maybe it would let you see yourself that way too,” she adds.

“I am no Savior,” she says sternly, barely resisting another snap. “If I was, Baelfire wouldn’t be dead. He saved us from the Wicked Witch and that’s all I want to hear on the subject,” she says firmly.

Wendy shrugs slightly, conversation over for now. It’s a common argument for them. It feels like they have it every day. She’s supposed to be some Savior, but she doesn’t feel like one, she never has, even after years free from the Wicked Witch. All Emma’s been was the daughter of a sheep farmer, and after the death of her parents before she met Bae, she was lost. She never meant to save the world; she never meant to be the one destined to find some new land for her people.

Emma doesn’t want to be the Savior. She wishes she could just hand off the job to someone way more qualified.

Emma watches Wendy look up at the sky, face stern. Emma never really understood why Wendy has been helping her for all these years; at first, it was some obligation to Bae, but yet she’s been talking about telling Henry the truth about his father since Henry was old enough to hear these stories. She doesn’t understand it; Emma would think she’d want to protect his image.

Emma doesn’t think she’ll ever truly understand her. “Besides,” Emma continues, “Shouldn’t you be trying to find a way to avoid this Demon ship Henry keeps talking about?” she asks, still eyeing the brunette.

Henry had taken up talking to other sailors whenever they reached port. At first, he wanted to try to trade some of his treasures for different things, and then it turned into him hunting out stories from dock workers or deckhands. He was always very excitable when it came to adventures so Emma was barely surprised when Michael came to her that first time he caught Henry wandering off to engage in a conversation with a stranger.

Wendy takes the change of subject gladly. Wendy rolled her eyes. “There is no Demon Ship,” she insists. “It’s just some pirate gang or something, an urban legend to scare people.” She crosses her arms and she looks insulted by the accusation.

“Are you sure?” asks a voice from the hull; Emma recognized Michael, slightly pudgier than his younger brother holding the wheel of the ship, looking at Wendy in uncertainty. “What about all those ships that have gone missing?” he asks nervously. “No survivors or ship remains were ever found.”

Wendy sighs in annoyance, but Emma can see it’s barely contained outrage. “We’re going to be fine,” she says again. “These seas are protected,” she reminds them.

Emma raised a brow in disbelief. “Protected?” she asks. Emma didn’t see any royal colors on this piece of the map; she thought this area was uncharted.

“By the Ocean Queen,” Wendy retorts as if it’s obvious.

“Ocean Queen?” Henry asks, being drawn in by the talk of adventure and stories. His eyes lit up. “Who’s she?” he asks.

“No one’s told you?” Wendy says in disbelief. “She’s a benevolent ancient ruler who protects all sailors in this area of the ocean,” Wendy replies. “Legend has it that she rules with three helpers, but not much more is known.” It makes Henry’s smile widen at the thought. Emma was sure her son’s head was filling up with ideas of meeting this ruler one day.

But at ten years old, Emma was not having it.

“You believe in an Ocean Queen and not a Demon ship?” Emma asks. It seemed a little one sided to her.

Wendy snickers. “Of course I don’t!” she exclaims. “I only believe in the wind and the stars; everything else is just fairy tales,” she says with a laugh. “That’s just an old story my mother used to tell me. She grew up around here,” she informs them. “A little place called Molida Island.”

Henry groans. “Aunt Wendyyyy,” he says with a sigh. “That’s mean.”

Wendy sticks her tongue out at him, looking like the kid Emma had met all those years ago. “That’s what you get for slacking off on your duties, mate.”

Henry sticks his tongue out right back at her. It wasn’t often that Wendy acted her age, only barely being 23 herself; but when she did, it was refreshing to Emma. It reminded her of the fierce Captain who could see them all through any storm in the sea and yet still had a soft side.

Emma’s relaxation was short lived, as before anyone realized it, a dark and thick fog rolled over them.

“What the—“ Wendy cries in surprise. “Everyone get to your stations,” she snaps at her two younger brothers. “We’re taking a detour from this place,” she orders. Emma looks around unsure. She has a dark feeling in her gut. She feels tingling in her soul, but she blocks it out. She doesn’t need more to deal with right now. She just needs her kid.

“Henry?” she calls out. She wanted her son with her while the crew worked on getting them out of here.

“Wind’s dead, Wendy,” John calls out.

“How can the wind be dead when a fog literally just blew in?” she snaps back.

“Mom, look!” she hears Henry say. He was sitting on the edge of the ship pointing out. “A ship.”

Emma looks over and realizes that Henry was right: there was a ship heading towards them and fast. “Henry, get away from there,” she orders, rushing down the steps in her dress. She barely reaches him as the ship descends upon them.

Emma sees its superior size loom overhead and dark wooden hulls cast a shadow upon their smaller vessel. Its ornaments are all a faded ivory color looking almost like bone. It looked like death itself had come for them.

“It’s the Demon Ship!” Emma hears Michael cry out. “These waters really are cursed!”

“It’s just a ship,” Wendy snaps at them. “Emma, Henry get below decks; let us handle things,” she orders. Emma nods in agreement, reaching over to gather Henry’s hand in hers and hide below deck. This was dangerous and Emma needs to keep Henry safe.

She just wants to take her son where it’s safe.

Henry pulls away from her. “It is the Demon Ship!” he insists. “And there could be a lot of treasure on board.” He reaches up for a stray piece of rigging, much to Emma’s horror.

“Henry!” she shouts, trying to grab him as her son swings over to the ship. “Henry get back over here!” she calls out once he lands safely. She is going to ground him for life for this.

“It’s fine, Mom; it’s—“ Suddenly as if possessed, the fog around them gets much denser and it is hard to see Henry at all. Then she hears a piercing sound that shakes her to her very core.

“Mom!” Henry screams. He screams for her.

“Henry!” Forgetting every ounce of her fear, Emma grabs the rigging, same as Henry had, and attempts to swing over to the other side. She needed to get to her son now.

However, the Demon ship started to move away from them so Emma’s leap of faith lands her clutching to the side of the ship.

“Emma!” She hears a chorus of voices call out in dismay. But she doesn’t care; she does her best to scramble upwards, trying to find something to catch the edge of her feet, anything to just hold on.

She hears a snickering laughter, sees a flash of dark hair and then someone uncurls her fingers from around the edge.

“Henry!” she shouts helplessly as she splashes into the water. Both the sky and the water were dark and grey and she couldn’t seem to make out either the Demon ship or her own ship in her confusion.

“Henry!” she cries one last time before the water swallowed her whole.

Tagging:

@phiralovesloki

#Cssns #Captain Swan #Legend of Zelda AU #Swan's Hourglass #captain swan au

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equalseleventhirds · 5 years ago

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thinks about it being 1985-ish and michael is like 20 and the baby of the archives, compared to ‘has a master’s in library science so probably late 20s’ eric and head archivist gertrude and (mystery) emma

and he’s nervous and a little awestruck and just trying to help (he probably expected his job was to fetch tea and file papers, like an intern except he never even finished university and james wright had smiled at him at the interview and said ‘assistant to the archivist’ and michael doesn’t even know what that means)

and of course gertrude doesn’t tell him anything but she’s his boss and much older than him and also has comforting explanations for every strange thing he encounters, and honestly after ryan after what happened michael clings to those like a lifeline

(and maybe sometimes eric or emma looks at him, really takes a second to see him, and he’s young and naive of course but there’s something hollow and weary in his eyes, like he’s gone so far beyond scared that now he just lives like this every day... but then he smiles anxiously at them and asks if they’d like some tea and that’s gone)

and then one day eric, who’s been going on dates with this mary woman (who is about a decade older than eric and seems to know things and is frankly absolutely terrifying) shows up at work sullen and angry and refusing to do his job, and he won’t tell michael or emma why but time goes on and he makes some comments to gertrude and she goes quiet and cold and tells him if you hate it so much then quit and he snaps back you know that’s not an option and michael leaves on ‘research’ before it can turn nasty

(and he avoids them for a week or two and when he comes back gertrude tells him eric is dead)

and he hasn’t got time to dwell on it, actually, because they aren’t hiring another assistant to replace eric, apparently, and now he and emma are splitting eric’s work, and anyway he missed the funeral, and he’s not even sure mary keay would have let him come, he was just eric’s coworker

and then one day emma

and then it’s michael alone in the archives with gertrude, and he’s still so young even though it’s been a few years, and he’s good at his job now but he never expected to be the only one left, not when the other two were older and more experienced and better at it than him. but he is.

and then one day he gets to work and the archive is locked, and it’s strange, but he gets the key from a janitor and opens it up to see if maybe gertrude fell asleep at her desk

but she’s not there

she’s not there, and she’s always there, or else on a business trip, and she hadn’t said anything about a business trip, and he’s already lost so much he’s watched or not-watched so many people disappear

so it’s michael who goes to gertrude’s flat, gets the address from wright, knocks on the door and just hears a weak groan from inside

(and he’s young and nervous and maybe not the most competent but he’s also six feet tall and broad-shouldered and strong, and when it’s really important he can break a damn door down)

so it’s michael who finds gertrude, surrounded by strange symbols and books and is that hair in some kind of net? but that’s not important because she’s lying on the floor clutching her chest and with hardly even enough breath to gasp in pain

because she is in pain, and she won’t--cant?--tell him why, or what’s happening, but he rushes her to a hospital and sits in the waiting room for hours until gertrude’s friend adelard comes in, stern-faced but kind, and tells him go home like an order, like an edict, like a truth, and michael can’t argue with someone who can speak like that

and it’s michael in the archives, gertrude’s only helper, when she comes limping in a week later, her face lined with exhaustion and pinched with pain, but she’s alive at least, she’s there, he’s not alone

and he rushes to help her and at first she moves to wave him away (like she always did when he tried to help with carrying a stack of files or a big box, he tried to help everybody, he was the youngest and the strongest and it was his job), but then she pauses and smiles at him wanly and says thank you, dear and takes his arm

(she binds the circle in a forest far far away, but michael doesn’t know that, doesn’t know the worst of her pain is gone. he just knows that now she smiles weakly at him, and her voice wavers sometimes, and she asks him for help more often, and when she thinks (or he thinks she thinks) he’s not looking she’ll wince and rub at her chest like it hurts. and michael is alone now, he’s the only assistant left, and the only person around to help gertrude. so he will. that’s his job now.)

#the magnus archives #someday i'll make this into a whole fic but for now HERE HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT MICHAEL SHELLEY #am i projecting? YEAH #is this a little bit about my own parents? ...........sure so what #fanfiction #fine it can go in that tag so i can keep track of it #algie writes things

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littleredroseonthevalley · 4 years ago

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Covered Mirror

Summary: A light bulb creates its own environment, photography creates the photorapher. Does Emma create her relationship, or does it create her?

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Explicit depictions of depressive episodes. Reader discretion is advised.

If those descriptions relate to your or a loved one’s mental state, do not hesitate to call health services operating in your juristiction. It gets better.

Words: 2200

Notes: I vacationed in Noahland, now it’s back to Masonville. Keep the balance or smth.

I’m real proud of this one. I’m happy how it turned out. I think it has weight, but still ends on a hopeful message. I hope you like it too!

Why do I think I’ll be swarmed with anon hate? Is there something I can do that doesn’t end with me swarmed with anon hate?

Marshall McLuhan once said that the light bulb creates its own environment, and Emma Price sometimes cannot help herself but think about it. She creates her photography, and her photography creates a new Emma.

Photography was a visual art. It might have an easier learning curve than, say, sculpting, but it was still an art that demanded perfection and practice. It was necessary to develop an aesthetic sense, an eye for the light. All in all, great abilities to have.

The problem was when that aesthetic sense turned around on her.

After another win for their school football team, Emma stood outside the pitch as the students and their families pass her by, waiting for her boyfriend.

Waiting for her boyfriend to finish talking to Ava Lawrence. The tall, blonde, fit cheerleader.

Emma did not really want to believe that she was jealous of her. Ava was a cool girl; they were friends from the photography club. They even hung out on occasion. Besides, Emma was dating Mason and she trusts him and Ava, so it is not like she should care, but she cares. Too much for her own good.

Emma Price felt like she was far from perfect, while Ava Lawrence was the epitome of perfect. Perfect hair, perfect marks, perfect personality, perfect social life, perfect figure. If she was honest with herself, Emma had to admit that, on her weaker moments, she wanted very much to be friends with her, just so she could absorb some of that perfection by osmosis. She wanted desperately to be like her.

When Mason first asked her out that day in sophomore year high school, after longing after him for so long, she could not have known that dating the most popular boy at school could feel so lonely.

Mason was not a bad boyfriend, much to the contrary. He was an amazing boyfriend. He would never go out of his way to hurt her feelings, but the decline in her self-confidence seemed to be getting to her. It was not about him, it was about her, and sometimes she had difficulty remembering that.

Once he was done speaking to Ava, he ran back over to his girlfriend. The wind hitting his blond hair in a way that was bound to make anyone have a crush on him. He had the widest smile on his face, waiting to talk to her about the game.

“I didn’t think you’d show up.” He said, with a boyish smile gracing his features.

Emma was a little taken aback by this comment. “What do you mean?”

Mason shrugged. “You just haven’t been wanting to hangout or anything... Or just not coming to my games.”

She tallied the season games on her head. He had a point, she concluded.

“Sorry, I’ve been really busy.”

She did not like lying to him, because she knew that after so many years of close relations with each other, he could tell straight away. However, at this instance, he did not bother commenting on it. He concluded she would tell him if something was wrong.

Or at least she used to tell him everything that was wrong. When they were still friends. Before they made their relationship public, and before she heard what everyone had to say about that relationship.

Teens were vicious creatures. They would be nice to her face, supportive and welcoming, but as soon as they thought she could not hear them anymore, their tongues would run amok.

“I don’t even know what he sees in her.”

“Have you seen her hair?”

“Is it just me or she put on weight?”

“What is she even wearing?”

“He could do so much better.”

She began to compare herself to almost every girl in town that said or thought things like that. She started to believe everything they were saying. Some nights, she stood in front of the mirror on her closet door looking unblinkingly at herself.

She did not like what she saw.

It had gotten so bad, she put a blanket over her mirror and tried not to look at herself at all. There were days she barely brushed her hair, days in which she gave up any thought or care into her appearance, into herself.

People saw Mason, with his light hair, football skills and rich parents and thought he was not that bright, and to be fair, he was not going to make it into any honours courses this year, but he was perceptive when it came to Emma. Deep down, he worried about her. He saw how this year at school has affected her, but he could not figure out how to confront her about it.

“Alright, it’s okay. There’s a house party this weekend, though, at Chad’s place. Do you want to go with me?” He asked, but soon amended, trying to lay off pressure of her. “It’s alright if you can’t. I can go by myself, or we could do something else if you’d like.”

She rolled her eyes, and held his hand with a meagre smile, hoping her tone of voice inspires confidence. “Of course, I’d love to go with you. Why do you think I wouldn’t?”

“The last time we spent the Saturday together was last month, at that midnight showing at the movies, remember? We don’t even go out running anymore.” He pointed out. “I’d thought you might like your space on Saturdays.”

“Oh! So it is.” She said, realizing he, again, had a point. “I don’t mind spending the Saturday with you, Mase. Guess I’ve just been a little overwhelmed these days.”

“Good! It’s a date, then!” The boy beamed. “Would you like me to drive you home? I’m done here.”

Before she could answer, though, a high whistle came from their left. Mason’s teammates were hurdled to the side, signalling for him to come. He ignored them, but Emma felt their eyes on the two of them together.

“N-No…” She stutters, shaking her head nervously. “It’s OK. You’d have to drive all the way to my house and then back to yours. It’s too much trouble.”

“It’s no problem, Em. I want to drive you home.” He insisted.

“No, Mason, it’s better if I walk. That’s OK, really. I like walking. I get to admire the scenery, and you never know when inspiration strikes.” She motioned for the camera hung around her neck.

“Oh, well…” His smile falters. “No problem, then. I’ll text you tonight, yeah? And we can spend the Saturday together.”

The girl smiles toothlessly. “Sure, Mase. You should go, your friends are waiting.”

He sighed. “OK, then, I guess. See you, Emma.”

*_*_*_*_*

When Emma, predictably, did not answer her phone that night, nor made any sign to set up a date on Saturday, Mason decided enough was enough and marched his way to the Price household.

He parked his car on the driveway and walked in large, firm steps to the front door, on which he knocked three decisive times.

It opens.

“Hey, Mason.”

“Hello, Mack.” He greeted, stiffly. “Is your sister home?”

She hesitated. “Yes, she is sleeping.”

“This late?” He commented

“Yeah, it’s… Kinda of her thing on weekends now.” The younger girl responded; lips pursed. “Mom and dad are out. Why don’t you come in? I’ll take you to Emma’s room, and I want to speak with you, too.”

The blond nodded. “OK, I’m all ears.”

Mackenzie stepped aside for him to come in, and motioned for him to walk up the stairs.

“Emma is… Well, she is not herself. I think you noticed.” She began, and with Mason’s encouragement, she continued. “I don’t really know what’s up with her. Dad threw a few medical names at it, but we’re all grasping at straws here. He wants to get her on meds, Mom’s holding him back, but even she’s wavering at this point.”

His eyes widen. “I didn’t know it was that serious.”

“It… It’s something, alright.” They stopped in front of Emma’s bedroom door, and Mackenzie lowers her voice. “Look, you’re her boyfriend. I know she loves you. I don’t expect any miracles, and you shouldn’t either, but… I don’t know, try something? Anything.”

He sighed. “I am, but I think I’m not trying hard enough.”

“Just talk to her, OK? Try not to be too aggressive, she doesn’t respond well to that, and brace yourself. It’s ugly in there.”

Mackenzie opens the door slow and quiet, and Mason walks into Emma’s bedroom. As her sister said, she was asleep. He instantly noticed the blanket over the mirror and all the pictures of her on the desk turned down.

To say it was messy was an understatement. Clothes scattered across the floor, everything atop her dresser was on its side, and the blackout curtains on the window were closed.

He sat on the end of her bed and shook her awake.

The girl wakes up in a jolt. “Wha-…”

“Hey, Em.” He greeted, quietly.

“Mason? What’re you doing here?” She blinked in confusion.

“I came to pick you up; we’d agreed to spend the Saturday together.” He said, looking away.

“Oh, right. We did.” She said, pushing the hair out of her face. “Good morning.”

“It’s one o’clock.”

“Same difference.” She chuckled as she sat closer on the bed to him.

He reluctantly shook her off, giving another glance at her dorm and then he sighed tiredly. “Why is your mirror covered?”

Her eyes went wide and she looked down at her hands. She began to pick at her nails subconsciously as an act of nervousness.

“Oh... It’s nothing.” She responded, avoidantly.

He brought his hand up to her chin so she could look at him. “I’m not an idiot, Emma.”

“I know.”

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”

She bit her lip, looking back at the picture frame on her bedside table that had a picture of her and Mason when they entered high school. It was face down, like all others, but she felt the need to look at it all of a sudden.

“Everyone says all those things...” She whispered. “It’s really hard to not let it get to you. Especially when the voices inside my own head speak even louder.”

He moved his hand from her chin to her cheek, caressing it, and she automatically leaned into his touch. “They’re all full of shit. They know nothing, they hear nothing. Why do you care for what they have to say?”

She averted her gaze, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Emma, you are the most beautiful girl in this entire school. Of the entire world, I swear.” He insisted.

She chuckled, pulling away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Mason.”

“I’m not!” The boy defended, his body facing her, grey eyes unwaveringly gazing her figure, begging her to look at him. “I mean it, Emma, honestly. There is no one prettier than you to me.”

“There are so many other better girls that would love to be with you, y’know.” She said, quietly. “Like Ava.”

“Like hell she wants to be with me.” He said, humouredly. “She doesn’t even like me that much, and even if she did! Ava Lawrence can’t even compare to you Emma. I can’t believe you would say that.”

She could feel herself crying, and before she knew it, he was wiping her tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” He hugged her tightly.

“I feel like I do.” The girl hiccupped. “I’m so stupid. I just cause trouble and worry, and I don’t want to be like that, but I just can’t help myself!”

“I know, Emma, but it’s worth it. You’re worth it.” He assured her, holding her while she cried it out. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix you up and you’ll be better than ever. I’m going to help you, your parents and Mack, too. It’s all gonna be OK.”

He sighed, kissing the crown of her head and getting up. He walked over towards her mirror and pulled the blanket off. He also opened the curtains and placed the pictures back to their original positions.

Afterwards, he asked Mackenzie to come into the room. She took her sister into the bathroom while Mason cleaned up some of the mess, taking the dirty laundry downstairs, the trash out and organized minimally the mountain of papers and photos scattered on every surface.

When Emma and her sister emerged from the bathroom, she had showered, put on some nice clothes and some light make up. It was not much, but it was enough to make her feel better than she had in a long time.

Her boyfriend beamed boyishly at her, and she could not help to smile back. He offered her his hand and they made their way down to the public park on her neighbourhood.

Sitting on the grass, with the sun warming her skin and Mason’s bodily heat against her waist, it was very nice.

Emma had a long way to healthy, and she knew that, but feeling his presence next to her helped a great deal. She felt hopeful, and perhaps he really had a point.

It would all turn out to be OK.

MTFL Masterlist

#my two first loves #mason jennings

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nothingeverlost · 4 years ago

Text

Henry Gold (10/?)

Summary: Regina asked for Gold’s help in procuring a child, but when he held the wee boy in his arms he couldn’t give the child up. Ten years later it’s Henry Gold who arrives in Boston, looking for Emma.

This chapter: A thief, punishment, ice cream, and a story of tragic love. AKA The Skin Deep chapter.

It’s a monster at almost 11,000 words.

TW for mentions of suicide and for violence.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

Gold was not the most popular person in town. It had taken Emma less than a day to see that. With few exceptions people seemed to avoid him unless they had dealings with him. It was strange, really, how many people in town seemed to have dealings with a pawnbroker. Those that interacted with him willingly seemed to do so for Henry. After a couple of months in town she still wasn’t sure there was anyone she’d call Gold’s friend. He’d visited someone named Jefferson a few times, but Emma hadn’t met him yet.

She wasn’t used to seeing people yell at Gold, though. She was on her way to the diner when she saw him crossing the street, a red-faced angry man shouting out that Gold was ‘the lowest’ and wasn’t going to get away with it. Emma hadn’t noticed him before but she’d hardly met everyone in town.

“Isn’t that Dove driving away in the florist van?” Emma jogged to catch up with him. She’d met Dove a few times, and knew that he worked for Gold in some capacity. Henry had a wooden unicorn in his room he said Dove had made for him.

“It’s being repossessed. French is months behind in his payments.” Gold ignored the man still shouting. Ignored the mayor walking their direction as well, ducking into the shop the moment he had the door opened. Emma followed.

“You lent him money?” There was a bank in town. She knew that because her paychecks were direct deposited. Filling out the paperwork had been the first time she’d used Gold’s address as her home.

“I run a pawn shop, Emma. I lend money to a great many people. French is simply one of them.” Gold’s hands tightened a little when he said French’s name. It was a small thing, but Emma noticed it out of the corner of her eye. Money didn’t seem to phase him; she doubted he was bothered by a default on a loan. French meant something to him.

“What are you going to do with the van? It’s not exactly going to fit in one of the window displays.”

“I’ll figure something out,” he said with a shrug. “However if you know anyone that is in need of roses let me know. I apparently have acquired a few.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She wasn’t about to tell Mary Margaret. She might get ideas, and David getting flowers delivered would not go over well at home. “I’m going to get a coffee across the street. Can I get you anything?”

“Thank you, but I’m fine. I’ll see you this evening.” Without another word he vanished through the curtain to his office. Emma left him alone, crossing the street to Granny’s. She was unsurprised to find that David and Mary Margaret were in tables right next to each other.

“Hey David, did you find a home for the kittens yet?” After the storm Graham had found three abandoned kittens and after ascertaining that their mother wasn’t coming back he’d taken them to a shelter.

“Believe it or not a woman with triplet daughters came in yesterday and adopted them. They’re going to be a birthday surprise.” David’s grin was enthusiastic; it was impossible not to smile back at him. Mary Margaret kept smiling at him until Emma coughed to get her attention.

“Good morning.”

“Morning Emma.” Mary Margaret had barely greeted her when Ruby brought over her coffee. She put in her order of two muffins to go.

“I’m still getting to know everyone around here. Do you by chance know anyone named French?” Emma made sure to make it sound like a casual query.

“The florist’s name is Moe French. I don’t think there’s anyone else in town with the name. His place is over on Franklin.”

“He doesn’t have any family?” It seemed kind of sad, to sell flowers to other people and have no one to bring them home to.

“I don’t remember hearing anything about a family. He’s from Australia, so maybe he still has some back there?” Mary Margaret’s attention wavered. “Ashley is here with the baby. She looks exhausted.”

Emma looked over her shoulder; she hadn’t seen Ashley since the hospital. Sure enough it was her, pushing a stroller. If anyone had ever needed coffee it was her. Could you drink coffee when you were breastfeeding? Was Ashley the type to breastfeed? Emma didn’t have a clue. She’d only had milk for a couple of days before it had thankfully dried up. “Hey Ashley, how’s it going?”

“I don’t know. The baby’s great, I love her so much, but between Sean working doubles and the baby not sleeping I haven’t had a break since I got home from the hospital. We haven’t even had time to talk about our relationship. He said he wants to get married but we haven’t had time to plan anything.” Ashley collapsed into the chair David had just vacated. “I had to get out of the house. I don’t even know if I’m hungry.”

“You need a night out.” Ruby apparently didn’t have any questions about if Ashley was drinking coffee. She brought over a mug and put it in front of the blond. “Leave the baby with Sean and we can have drinks. Mary Margaret you could use a girls-only night, couldn’t you? And Emma, you should totally come too. Leave the badge at home, though.”

“Yeah, sure.” It wouldn’t hurt to get to know people better. It would be nice for Gold and Henry to have some time on their own too. They didn’t need her in their space all the time.

“Where should we…” The ringing of her phone interrupted her question. Since it was Graham she answered. “Hey.”

“I just got a call from a woman named Kravitz about a disturbance next door to her. She heard loud noises and the front door was left open. Emma, it’s Gold’s house.”

“Crap. I’ll go check on it. I’ll call and let you know what’s up.” She shoved her phone into her pocket and pushed away from the table. The coffee was too hot for a quick gulp before she left. She was going to miss the caffeine.

“Emma?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Sorry, work.” She ran out of the diner, hoping that when she got to Gold’s house it was nothing more than a prank or someone’s overactive imagination. It helped a little, knowing that Henry was already on his way to school and Gold was at work. But only a little.

Someone had broken into his home. More importantly someone had broken into his son’s home, the place where Henry should be completely safe. The door was ajar, just as his usually annoying but sometimes handy neighbor had informed him. As he stepped inside he withdrew the gun he’d brought with him from the shop; he wasn’t taking any chances that someone was still around. The first damage he saw as he rounded a corner was the smashed glass over a picture of himself and Henry from last Christmas. Tables were overturned, things missing, but it was the empty display case that told him everything he needed to know.

Moe French was going to suffer.

When he heard a sound he turned, gun raised, and found himself facing Emma.

“You have a gun?” she asked, staring at him.

“As do you.” He lowered his, slipping it back into the pocket of his coat after confirming the safety was on. “I assure you it’s registered. I keep it at the shop.”

“What happened here?” She lowered her own, but kept it in hand as she took in the destruction around them. “Son of a bitch.”

“It appears we’ve been robbed. I haven’t gotten any farther in the house. If you wouldn’t mind checking upstairs I’d appreciate it. The sooner you do whatever you have to do legally the sooner we can get this cleaned up. I’d rather Henry didn’t have to see it.” He looked at the smashed photo and tightened his hand into a fist. Bastard.

“Do you know who might have done this?” Emma asked as she walked around broken glass.

“I haven’t a clue,” he lied. If Emma was focused on the case she’d be less likely to get in his way. He was going to take care of Moe French on his own. They had things to settle between them, things that had already waited far too long. Decades too long.

“This morning with Mr. French…”

“He’s a florist and it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow. What would he have to gain from this? If he were to steal anything it would make the most sense to try and reclaim his van, not a few trinkets from my home.” They were, of course, more than trinkets. Not including the sentimental value of what was stolen, the antiques from this world and another were worth thousands. Emma was too clever for his own good. At least she would have no reason to suspect that Moe’s actions were aided by Regina. He could see her fingerprints over the whole thing. Only she knew his history and could possibly know the importance of one single teacup.

“I’ll check the rest of the house and then we can head for the station. I need you to file a report so we know exactly what we’re looking for.”

“Emma.” He stopped her before she headed for the stairs. “Unless it’s necessary I’d rather Henry didn’t know. There’s no reason for him to worry.”

“As long as this looks like it’s a one time only thing I won’t say a word,” she promised.

“It won’t be repeated,” Gold muttered under his breath. It was a promise too.

“I know Gold said there’s no point looking at Moe French, but I think we have to look at him. He sounded pretty angry this morning when Gold repossessed his van. Is there anyone else you know that might have a reason not just to steal, but to trash the place?” Fortunately the thief didn’t have the time or the desire to go upstairs, and the bedrooms were untouched. It seemed odd to her that most of the house was untouched, not that she was complaining. There wouldn’t be much to clean up and if they were lucky Henry wouldn’t have to deal with the worry and fear of knowing someone had broken into the house.

“Regina hates him, but she’s not into larceny as far as I know. Most people around here aren’t stupid enough to try something like this, especially considering he’s the landlord for half the town.”

“So what do we know about Moe French? Is he…” Emma froze when she reached her desk and found a bouquet of wildflowers in a vase. Next to the flowers was a donut, chocolate glazed but covered in red and pink sprinkles.

“I know roses are more traditional but I’ve never been one for cultivated flowers and we’re not exactly traditional so far. I didn’t know we’d have a case when I put them there, and I thought about moving them considering but even if we can’t do dinner tomorrow I wanted you to have flowers today.”

“Dinner?” Emma was still stuck on the fact that he’d gotten her flowers. From the looks of them he’d probably gone out and picked them himself.

“I thought we could try this thing I’ve heard of, they call it a date. Sometimes it involves this thing called dinner. It might even include this other thing called kissing.” He wasn’t quite laughing but she could see it was close to happening.

“You’re such a dork.” Emma laughed because it was the easiest reaction. Though they’d been taking things slow for more than one reason, Emma had expected a date at some point in the not too distant future. When she hadn’t expected was Valentine’s Day. No matter how much she told herself it was a day like any other it meant something. She’d never had a date on Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t a day you picked for a casual thing, and that’s all she’d had except for Neal. They hadn’t been together in February; they met in the spring and by the following year she was pregnant and alone.

“It doesn’t have to be tomorrow.” Graham was too damn observant and she’d been quiet for longer than she’d meant. His hand on her cheek was warm; it wasn’t at all the way a sheriff should be touching his deputy but they were way past professional boundaries. “We can have dinner another time instead.”

“No.” Emma shook her head. This was Storybrooke, a place for new beginnings. “I have the perfect dress for dinner on Valentine’s Day. It’s red, sexy, and way easier to wear when I don’t have to worry about chasing someone in heels.”

“I promise I have no plans to run anywhere.” His thumb grazed the corner of her mouth before he pulled away. “I do, however, have a lot of incentive to find stolen property today so it’s wrapped up before tomorrow. Why don’t we start with French’s flower shop?”

“Okay, but I’m not buying you any roses.”

Emma frowned at the loot laid out on one of the spare desks in the office. She should be feeling better; she wasn’t even at the end of her shift and she had Gold’s stolen property back. It certainly looked like his stuff; little statues she might call paperweights that were probably worth more than her car, a stack of plates and three teacups, none of them the same pattern, a tapestry that might look better if it was washed, a silver tray, a wooden box.

Something felt wrong. She and Graham had found the stolen goods in the backroom at Game of Thorns. It was too easy. Nothing was hidden, but was laid out on a table as if displayed almost. Maybe that was what bothered her. Or maybe it was how deliberately Gold had tried to convince her that French wasn’t worth considering as a suspect. She needed answers.

Graham was still looking for French. She was waiting for Gold to show up. She didn’t have long to wait; ten minutes after she called him he was striding into the station. “Apparently your pal Moe was capable of more than you thought.”

Gold barely acknowledged her, his attention on the recovered items. It was strange; for all that his house was cluttered he didn’t seem particularly invested in things. When Henry had broken a china plate a few weeks ago he had only shrugged and cautioned his son not to touch any shards. He didn’t brag about his art unless it was something Henry drew. It never bothered him if his ties got dirty while cooking or playing. Something about this theft, though, had him more upset than she’d seen him ever, except the day that Henry had been missing.

“Gold?” She gave him a couple of minutes to look, but if his jaw tensed any more she didn’t know what was going to happen. Nothing good.

“It’s not here.” He dismissed everything on the desk curtly.

“What do you mean? These things are yours, aren’t they? The black lion thing is familiar, and the vase. The cups…”

“Something is missing.” He sounded certain. Emma wasn’t sure how he could tell, from the mess at home, just what was missing.

“There’s a lot of things here.” Maybe she should pick up a few of them and see if moving them around helped. After all he hadn’t touched them.

“And none of them matter. Where is Mr. French?”

“Graham is looking for him. If something is missing we’ll find it, Gold. I promise.” She’d always prided herself on her job. There weren’t a lot of things she was good at, but finding things was one of them. Knowing when people were lying was another, and Gold wasn’t lying. He was certain something was missing, and it was pretty obvious he didn’t want to say what.

“Not if I find it first.” Emma looked up, staring at him sharply. That sounded a hell of a lot like a threat.

“Gold, when you said you didn’t think French would steal from you…” He had tried to distract her when she’d asked him about French. He hadn’t ever outright denied that the florist could have been the thief. She realized that now.

“He wouldn’t, not unless someone else put the idea into his head.” He half-turned as if he was leaving. The whole time he’d been in the station he’d barely looked at her. It felt almost as if he was a stranger, rather than someone he’d lived with for the last four months.

“Who would do that?” It wasn’t a guess. He knew more than he was saying.

“Henry’s going to be home soon, and I’d like to be there. I’ll see you this evening.” he acted as if he hadn’t heard her question.

“Gold.” It was too late. He was gone.

He barely slept, watching the sun rise from his bed before giving up on the idea of more than a few restless hours. Moe French was hiding in some hole where the Sheriff didn’t know to find him. Gold wondered if it was self-preservation that had him cowering like a rat, or if he was simply celebrating his victory of stealing from the town bastard and lucky enough to escape Graham’s notice.

His luck wouldn’t last long.

The front parlor was restored; if one didn’t know to look for things that were currently being held at the sheriff’s station they wouldn’t know anything was missing. Henry hadn’t noticed the absence of bric-a-brac that didn’t usually catch his attention, and the one broken picture was tucked away until a new piece of glass could be purchased. Neither Emma nor Henry had commented on the empty display case. Gold had been careful not to look at it when either of them were around. After both were asleep he’d stared at it for more than an hour.

He would get his cup back, and someone would pay for the temporary loss of it. It was the only thing he had of his Belle.

“So just how much candy do you think Henry’s going to eat today?” Emma asked as she joined him in the kitchen. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting there, the cold cup of tea in front of him in an annoyingly chip free cup.

“The rule in his classroom is that you bring a Valentine for everyone in the class or none at all. So unfortunately I think the answer is quite a lot.” If only that was his main concern tonight. “I have a meeting tonight. Will you be home before six-thirty?”

“I, uh…” Emma uncharacteristically looked away. “I have a date.”

“Well well. The sheriff, I assume?” It took him a moment to react, to pull on a mask and play at the banter that would usually come so easily. He was honestly happy for her, and if it came to it for the sheriff as well. He was a good man, too long a prisoner of the queen. They both deserved the happiness that he never expected to have.

“Yeah. We’re, I don’t know, doing dinner or something. If nothing comes up.” She frowned. “It could wait, though, if you need me to watch Henry.”

“I’m certain Ms. Lucas doesn’t have plans for the evening. She’s always glad to spend time with Henry. You go on your date.” He had things to do, but he forced himself to take a breath and slow down. Emma was important because of Henry and the curse, but she was important as herself as well. Perhaps in the beginning he had only cared because she was useful, but she’d become a friend in her own right. “Don’t let the paper cupids and heart decorations seem more important than they are. It’s just a day. When other people make a lot of it there can be pressure, but tonight should simply be about the two of you being able to talk to each other. To share stories that get missed when daily routine and work get in the way. Just focus on that and don’t think about the rest.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” She smiled a little, still restless but hopefully feeling better. Gold nodded and returned his focus to the tea he was making. He honestly hoped for the best for Emma’s date, but mostly he was glad it meant the only law in town would be nicely distracted tonight.

Gold would have preferred to make his purchases with no one around. Mr. Clark, he knew, wouldn’t say anything. The man wasn’t very smart in any realm, but he was smart enough not to make any comments. David was a less certain element. In another time and place he would have been full of questions. Somehow the prince had always been able to get him talk about things he never had any intention of talking about. He’d actually confided in Charming more than once despite himself. Perhaps it had something to do with the fraternity of men who raised sheep.

He didn’t seem to be quite so curious here. Nolan, as he was apparently known in this world, didn’t ask about the rope and tape. He seemed more distracted by the cards in his hand. Two of them, for two very different women. Not surprising.

“Couldn’t make up your mind?” He couldn’t resist commenting on the cards; each one for a wife, though he didn’t know it. It amused him that one featured a castle that might be a cartoonist’s drawing of David’s home.

“They’re both so us.” The prince hesitated slightly. He’d had time to settle into his life since waking up, but he knew from a few comments Emma had made and his own observations that his interest in Mary Margaret hadn’t dimmed since the day they ‘met.’

“You’re lucky to have someone that loves you so much.” Kathryn, of course, was under a spell but Snow White’s love was strong enough to battle a curse. He was certain that Regina was raging over the rumors of the two.

“I’m lucky for a lot of reasons.” Gold had to smile at the sentiment coming from the recent coma patient. He didn’t know how lucky he really was, to be not only alive but awake. To have his love so very close. And his daughter as well. Gold almost laughed when it occurred to him that Henry was the grandson of the princeling behind him in line. Henry could do worse than having Charming as a grandfather.

“Love is like a delicate flame. And once it’s gone, it’s gone forever.” They’d spoken of lost love once before, when the pain was more raw but no less intense. Just as then he knew that Charming, at least, still had a chance. “Cherish what you have.”

Gold carried his purchases out to the parking lot, where the garishly painted van waited for him. He had some hunting to do.

Emma was really glad both Gold and Henry had left for the evening when she came down the stairs. She was nervous enough without any comments about her dress or questions about where they were going. She liked Graham. Really liked him. She couldn’t remember when she liked someone so much, which was a lie but one she could live with. Honestly it might be easier if she didn’t care so much. Graham’s friendship and their working relationship meant too much to her to screw it up, and once dating and sex came into the picture she always screwed things up.

And that wasn’t even taking into account his recent dating past and near-fatal heart attack.

Was it too late to cancel? She’d half convinced herself to head upstairs and change when a knock on the door stopped her. Too late. She opened the door to find Graham standing on the front porch, wearing a suit of light gray, his top button undone and no tie in sight. He held a small stuffed wolf.

“Wow.” It was the first thing he said, and certainly not the worst reaction. She knew the red dress fit her well, and it certainly wasn’t like anything he’d seen her in.

“Is that for me?” He didn’t seem inclined to say much, so she pointed to the stuffed animal.

“I didn’t want to do flowers again and I thought this would be funny because you know, you followed the wolves with me and everything, but now that I say that I worry that it’s weird. Or lame. Is it lame?” She wondered if he was aware that as he looked at her he was petting the stuffed animal.

“It’s sweet.” She’d had a stuffed tiger once, something some foster parent had probably given her. It had lasted a couple of houses before it had gone missing or been left behind in one of her many moves. Her blanket was the only thing she’d managed to hold onto from her childhood. No one since had given her a stuffed toy. “Henry will get a kick out of naming him for me.”

“Is he here?”

“Nope, he’s having dinner at the diner with Granny. Gold is… somewhere.” Emma frowned. Gold had been acting weird ever since the robbery, and she didn’t love how vague he’d been about his evening activities. He’d been pacing for a good half hour before he’d left to drop off Henry.

“Yeah, I knew that actually. I saw him when I was coming over here. Weird thing is, he was driving the Game of Thorns van. If he was moving things around for the shop I didn’t figure he had Henry with him, so I thought maybe…”

“You saw him with the van?” Emma’s bad feeling got worse. They still hadn’t found Moe French and Gold still insisted that something stolen from him was missing. Something he refused to talk about. “What way was he heading?”

“Northwest, towards the bridge I think. Maybe he’s just parking the van somewhere French can’t find it and take it back?” Graham still had the stuffed animal in his hands. Emma took it, and wished she could do more than toss it on a hall table; she didn’t want him to think it didn’t matter. But she had a feeling in her gut that something was very wrong.

“Gold’s cabin is out that way. I’m sorry if you made reservations but I think we need to drive by and see if there’s anything going on we need to know about.” It would be embarrassing if she showed up and Gold was there doing something completely normal, and she had to explain why she’d taken her date out to the cabin. It would be just as weird if she and Graham showed up to an empty place in the middle of nowhere. But she had to take the risk.

“You might want to change your shoes first,” he pointed out, looking down at her heels. Emma sighed.

“I’m sorry.” She might have been on the verge of canceling the date, but that hadn’t been about him. Well, only in the fear of ruining their relationship sort of way. But he’d dressed up and made plans, and since he’d been with Regina for so long and she was a manipulative bitch it was a pretty good chance he hadn’t made date plans in a really long time.

“Our job is important. Besides, if we miss dinner there’s still dessert and that’s the best part of a meal.” Graham drove to the cabin without asking any questions about where it was. Emma had to wonder if he’d been there or he just knew. When they rounded the last corner the van was like a beacon in front of the cabin, despite the shadows. Somehow she had known it would be there. Weirdly, though, there weren’t any lights on inside.

“I’ll go first. Give me a minute, okay?” Her shoes might be sensible, but she was still wearing the red dress under her winter coat and it felt familiar. Uncomfortably familiar, like the last months hadn’t happened and she was still skip tracing. But Gold wasn’t a bounty, he was a friend. And he might not be doing anything more than stashing extra storage at the cabin. Emma left her gun in her pocket and proceeded with caution.

The door was unlocked. She didn’t have to wonder if he was in the cabin.

“She’s gone forever – she’s not coming back. And it’s your fault! Not mine! You are her father!” She couldn’t call it shouting. It wasn’t loud. It was painful. Emma stepped into the room and found Gold leaning over Moe French, the cane she’d seen used as an aid to walk now used as a weapon to hit the larger man despite the fact he was tied up.

Shit.

“It’s your fault.” When he swung his arm backward to inflict another blow Emma was able to grab the cane.

“Stop.” It was only another moment before Graham ran into the room. Gold tugged once against the cane before half-turning and making eye contact with her. The fight seemed to fade at that moment. It was the first time she’d ever thought that he looked old. She looked at her partner. So much for their date. “I think we’re going to need an ambulance.”

“Do you want to wait with him while I sort out the rest of this?” Graham stared at Gold, somehow not seeming very surprised by what he had done to Moe French.

“I’m not that great with blood and I think Gold and I have things we need to talk about. I’ll see you at the station?” It would be easy to hand things over to Graham. It wouldn’t be right.

“Yeah.” Graham nodded as he knelt down at the wounded man’s side. It was probably a bad time to notice how nice his ass looked in the dress pants, but she had been in date mode half an hour ago. Emma looked at the door, and then at Gold.

“I’m going to let go of your cane now. I get that it works pretty well as a weapon but let’s not right now, okay?” She wasn’t really worried, except that Gold still didn’t seem very focused. She needed to make sure he knew that she wasn’t a threat. “We should go outside.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” He didn’t look in Moe’s direction before walking out the door. Emma followed.

“I’m glad I was. Things looked pretty bad in there, Gold. It’s going to be hard enough to explain to Henry that I had to arrest you for assault. I’m glad to avoid the murder charge.” Would he have gone that far? After seeing him with the cane she didn’t know.

“You could just not arrest me.” Gold made the comment as he looked at the dark forest, but he didn’t sound like he considered it to be possible.

“French is going to have to go to the hospital, and there are going to questions. You know I can’t do that.”

“If you left me alone with him for another minute it wouldn’t be an issue. Do you really think anyone would miss him?”

“You don’t really mean that.” But when he looked at her Emma had to quell a shiver. The wild rage from earlier was gone, but she could see the anger still. Colder now, but no less lethal. “We should go before the ambulance arrives. I don’t have to do the whole handcuff thing, do I?”

“Where would I possibly go? I’m not abandoning my son.” She couldn’t go so far as having him in the front seat, though. She held open the back door for him, waiting until he was settled before closing it. He was silent for the brief ride to the sheriff’s station. Fortunately it was late enough that the street was almost empty; anyone on Main Street was settled in a restaurant or the ice cream parlor, enjoying their happy little dates. She wondered which restaurant she was supposed to be at right now. Emma frowned when she took off her coat and looked down at the red dress.

“So, first time in a cell?” She tried a bad joke, to break the thaw in the room. It was the first time she’d locked anyone in a cell before. Figured she couldn’t have an easy first time.

“You’d be surprised.” She half expected him to pace the small space, but he settled on the edge of the cot.

“Are you ready to talk about what happened?” Emma settled on the arm of the couch, facing him. There was paperwork, but that could wait. Besides, a lot of it depended on French’s prognosis and if he was pressing charges.

“You’re far too much like Henry to be content if I said no.” Gold sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“You were beating up a man without any plan to stop, Gold. And I get it, he stole from you but I don’t think that’s what this was about.” She had been shocked by what she’d seen, and how out of control Gold had been when he usually seemed, if anything, too reserved. Now that she had time to process everything she remembered the words he had used. “You said it was his fault, that someone wasn’t coming back. French has a kid?”

“Had. She…” He looked down at the floor, drawing in a breath slowly before looking up at her. Emma winced, pretty sure she knew what came next. “She died.”

“She mattered to you.” She stopped shy of asking if he loved her. She remembered what it felt, the first time she’d woken up in a bed with Neal wrapped around her, and the moment she realized he wasn’t coming back. She remembered what it felt like when she let down her guard and kissed Graham for the first time, and the fear when she was certain he was dying. The pain and love she could all but feel radiating from Gold felt like something beyond that.

“I loved her more than I thought I was capable of loving. When I met her I had been dead inside for such a long time and she brought me back to life. But I didn’t trust it. She was so beautiful here.” He touched his chest just above his heart. “So kind and smart and wonderful. Why would she want to be with someone like me?”

“What did Moe French think of you and his daughter?” She didn’t know much about French, but clearly something had gone pretty badly.

“He hated me from the moment we met. We had a fight. I knew one day she would figure out that she was too good for me so I drove her away before she could leave me. She was young and beautiful, she’d find someone else who could love her better. Someone who could give her more. She went to her father but he hated me so much he wouldn’t accept her even when it was over. He said things to her. Cruel things. And then he told her she was no longer his daughter. My Belle.” She could see the tears in his eyes, but knew he wouldn’t let them fall. Not while she was watching.

“Where did she go?” Graham would have mentioned if French had a daughter in town, even if they were estranged. She waited a full minute before speaking, gently reminding him that she was still waiting. “Gold?”

“She was found in the river on a Monday. Her neck was broken. A witness said she jumped off the bridge.” Once he stopped speaking he seemed completely motionless. Not just still, but as if he was a statue or a toy with the batteries taken out.

“I…” She’s gone forever, he had said. Not coming back. For all that he had yelled at Moe as he beat the other man, Emma had to wonder how much of that rage had been aimed at himself.

“You should go get Henry. It’s past his bedtime already.” Gold spoke in carefully measured words.

“I can call Ruby, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind keeping him for the night.” It might be the easiest thing to do, and they had extra rooms at the B&B.

“You don’t want him to find out about this from someone else, and he deserves to sleep in his own bed. Please.” Gold’s eyes flicked in her direction briefly.

“I don’t know if I should leave you alone.” He might not be interested in talking any more but that didn’t mean he needed to be alone. And telling Henry she’d arrested his dad wasn’t going to be the most fun conversation she’d had today, which was saying something.

“I’m not going to try and escape.”

“I never thought you would.” Strangely, for a moment she remembered how worried Henry had been about his friends leaving town. No one could leave, he’d said. It was nonsense, of course.

“I’m not going to do anything else either. If it would make you feel better you can have my belt and shoelaces, though.” He leaned his head against the back wall, his eyes closed and his voice drained of emotion.

“I don’t know what to say to him.” She’d arrested his dad. No matter how close they were going or what Gold had done she couldn’t imagine Henry was going to understand that.

“Nothing can prepare you for moments like this when you’re a parent. You just have to figure it out as you go and hope for the best.”

“I’m not a parent.” She’d never thought of herself that way, not even when she was pregnant. Even a moment’s daydream would have made it too hard to do what she’d needed to do. “Giving birth doesn’t make anyone a parent.”

“Being a parent has nothing to do with biology. You told him you would stay for a day. It’s been four months. Why are you still here, Emma?” She was surprised to find he was looking at her. Emma blinked, unable to think of anything to say. “He trusts you and he knows you’ll keep him safe. Right now that matters more than anything. Go home, Emma. Henry needs you.”

“Yeah, okay.” Even with everything else happening he put Henry first. As much as she dreaded it, she couldn't do less. Emma reluctantly stood up. “I’m sorry about Belle.”

He didn’t say a word as she left.

“You look like you could use a drink. How about I pour you one and then I can tell you all about how Sean showed up and proposed to Ashley. It was pretty sweet.” Ruby picked up a glass but Emma shook her head.

“I just came to pick up Henry.” The truth was she would love a drink. She was more interested in some solitude to work through what she’d learned tonight, though, then pretending to be interested in Ashley’s love life. And she really didn’t want to answer questions about her own Valentine’s date.

“He just finished up an ice cream sundae; Granny took his dish before he could lick it clean. He’s in the back booth.” Ruby nodded towards the back of the diner. Emma frowned when she saw that he wasn’t alone. The annoying stranger in leather was sitting with him. She was about the head back when her phone rang. She only answered it because it was Graham.

“Hey.”

“You still at the station?”

“No, I’m taking Henry home. I didn’t know where blankets and things were, though, if you don’t mind stopping by and checking on things.” She was careful, no matter how softly she was speaking, not to say anyone’s name. It wasn’t going to keep quiet for long, not in this town, but she needed to talk to Henry alone.

“Yeah, I’m about to head out of here. French has a broken arm and a couple of cracked ribs. He’s going to have some humdinger bruises tomorrow. All in all he’s pretty lucky.”

“Sure, everyone’s lucky tonight.” She shook her head. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? And I’ll pick up the donuts tomorrow.”

“Guess we’ll need an extra one.” Emma could hear the faint sound of someone being paged in the background. “And Emma? I really liked the dress.”

He didn’t give her a chance to say anything before he hung up. She had some thinking to do, about if she really would have canceled the date. About what she wanted. About if he was going to see the little red dress again. That all had to wait.

“Hey Emma. Is dad with you? We could have an ice cream before we go home.”

“Nice try, kid. Even if Ruby hadn’t ratted you out I can see the chocolate in the corner of your mouth.” She debated asking the stranger why he was talking to Henry, but she didn’t have the energy for another conversion where she had no idea what was happening. Instead she nodded her head with the barest acknowledgment and ignored the way he was looking at her dress. “Your dad asked me to pick you up. It’s past your bedtime.”

“Dad’s not home yet?” As usual the kid was way too clever, already suspecting something was wrong.

“I’ll tell you all about it when we get home, okay?” She might not know much about being a parent, but she knew a lot about needing privacy when rugs got pulled out from under you.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Emma glanced at the stranger who was way too interested in their conversation. The diner was empty enough that not many other people were around. Henry loved his spy stories and often pretended he was on secret missions. Emma decided to use it to her advantage. “There’s some stuff happening but it’s code word clearance only.”

“Okay.” Henry bit his lower lip as he slid from the booth and followed her to the front door. He was preoccupied enough that he didn’t notice he’d forgotten his backpack, which had somehow moved from his side of the table to the floor next to the stranger, along with the book inside.

On the short ride home Henry was quiet, looking out the window until they pulled into the driveway. His silence ended about two seconds after Emma closed and locked the front door.

“Where’s my dad?”

“Let’s sit down.” Emma would have loved a minute to run upstairs and change into something more comfortable, but it wasn’t like anything about the next couple of minutes was going to be comfortable.

“The only time dad doesn’t come home at night is when he’s at the cabin and he always takes me.” When Emma sat down on the sofa he didn’t join her, but remained standing. “What happened?”

“Have you ever gotten in trouble at school?” She doubted it. Mary Margaret’s concerns were usually about him being too quiet. He didn’t take after her, fortunately, in that regard. Thirteen different schools and she’d been sent to the principal in all but two of them.

“One time dad had to pick me up because I got into a paint fight with someone who ruined my art project. It was a Mother’s Day card.” Emma closed her eyes for a moment. Crap. She remembered plenty of mom and dad gifts made in art class. She’d dreaded those holidays.

“When you get in trouble at school you have to go see the principal. Me and Graham, we’re sort of like the principals for the town. We help people when they need us, and when people are fighting we have to tell them to stop.”

“My dad was fighting?” Henry sounded as surprised as Emma had felt. “He never fights. He usually says bad things about people after they leave if he’s mad.”

“He got in a fight this time.” Which wasn’t really accurate, considering the rope and tape that had bound his opponent, but she didn’t need to get into details.

“Emma, is my dad in time out?” Henry finally sat next to her, turned slightly so their knees touched.

“You could say that.” It sure sounded better than ‘hey kid, I arrested your dad.’

“For how long?”

“I don’t know, Henry. Graham and I are going to have to figure that out. But he’s not hurt and he’s safe. He’s just going to have to stay at the station for a little while.” She hoped ‘little while’ was at least close to the truth. She didn’t know what she was going to do if they had to hold Gold for any length of time. They didn’t have the facilities for a longer jail sentence and she didn’t have the ability to parent full time. Henry didn’t deserve that.

“He’s in one of the jail cells, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Emma nodded reluctantly.

“Can I see him?” Henry, who usually sounded old for his age, suddenly sounded young.

“We’ll talk about that tomorrow, okay? Right now you need to get to bed.” She couldn’t imagine he’d fall asleep anytime soon. She knew she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d call Graham and check in one last time for the night. Maybe they wouldn’t just talk about work.

Maybe she’d have that drink she couldn’t accept from Ruby.

“Are you going back to work?” Henry leaned in, his head on her shoulder.

“Not tonight. I’m staying right here, okay? You’re not going to be alone.” She could promise that much, at least.

The jail cell in Storybrooke’s sheriff’s station had more to recommend it than the dungeon under Snow White’s castle. It was cleaner, better lit, and the cot was more comfortable. That didn’t mean Gold was any happier about being behind bars. He didn’t blame Emma, no matter how inconvenient her timing had been the night before. No, the blame was split between Moe French and Regina. Moe French had taken the only thing he had left of his Belle. And he was certain that Regina was behind it.

His cup. It had been enshrined in his great hall for almost six years before the curse began. In this world it sat alone on the shelf of a display case. Like shadows from a dream he could remember his Belle dropping it in this world as well, her soft fingers caressing the broken bit. He could remember her being in his home, long before Henry entered his life. Curled up on the couch with a book from his library. Teasing him in the kitchen. Dancing with him in the garden. He knew it was all a lie, memories created by the curse, but like a double-exposed picture they were hard to separate from the real memories of a castle a world away.

When he had told Emma of the version of his Belle this world remembered he could see her walking down the steps of the pink house for the last time. He could remember the pale pallor of her skin when he had visited the morgue. Her father had refused to identify the body. There were many nights he’d stood on the bridge and thought about joining her, but he was too much of a coward. The memories were not real, he knew now, but the guilt and rage were no different here then they were in another world.

“You don’t look like you got much sleep.” The sheriff was back not long after the sun rose. He’d offered to stay the night, but Gold preferred the time alone.

“No offense, but the accommodations don’t suit me.” He wasn’t sure if he’d slept at all, or had only dreamed while still being awake. It didn’t matter.

“Leroy doesn’t tend to complain. He snores, though.” To Gold’s surprise Graham approached the cell with two paper cups in hand. The one he handed off through the bars smelled herbal. He wouldn’t have thought Graham knew or cared enough to bring tea rather than coffee.

“Yes, well not all of us can fall into a drunken stupor.” He’d seen the dwarf around town, his grumpiness taking on a harder edge being separated from his brothers. The only thing he and Leroy had in common, however, was a dislike for the local nuns. “I don’t suppose you have a place to shower this morning?”

“Sorry, not right now but we’ll figure that out.” Graham crossed the room to his office, shedding his jacket and leaving his coffee on his desk. He was back a moment later with a second offering. Gold frowned in confusion at the walkie talkie.

“Why?” He didn’t reach out to take it.

“Someone wants to talk to you. Channel four.” Graham turned it on and held it through the bars again.

“Dad?” The sound of static was soon replaced by the voice he wanted to hear the most, and most dreaded. He snatched the walkie talkie from Graham’s grasp and pulled it close.

“Henry.” His son had spent the night without him. Only a handful of times in the boy’s life had that happened. “How are you son?”

“I’m fine. Emma said I have to go to school. She made breakfast but the toast got burned. We’re having cereal.” Cereal was a rare treat; he didn’t think it was hearty enough to get a growing boy through the hours to lunch. It didn’t matter today; he knew Emma was doing her best.

“Emma’s right. School is important.” He knew that Mary Margaret would keep a close eye on him. She loved the boy, somehow instinctively knowing that he mattered more to her then she knew.

“I want to come see you but Emma said after school Are you really in jail? Emma said you got in a fight with someone. Were they a bad guy, like Saruman?”

“No, not like that.” If he only knew that it was his dad that had more in common with Saruman. “I got angry at someone I knew a long time ago, who hurt someone I cared about. But that doesn’t make what I did okay. Fighting is wrong, Henry.”

“Unless you’re protecting someone else, right dad?”

“If it’s really about protection,” he agreed. Like Bae, his Henry was already more of a hero than his father.

“But you were just fighting and that’s why Emma had to put you in time out, right dad?”

For the first time in more than a day Gold laughed. Time out brought up an image of Henry, three years old and covered in cocoa powder, trying to make his own drink after he’d been told no. “Yes, Henry.”

“Emma says it’s time to go, dad. You’ll be home soon, won’t you?”

“Let Emma know if there’s anything you need right now, son. I’ll see you soon.” He couldn’t lie, and he didn’t have an answer. His anger had gotten the best of him, and he didn’t yet know the cost. “I love you, Henry.”

“I love you too, dad.” The walkie talkie returned to static. Gold turned it off and set it down on the cot next to him. Graham had retreated to his office, giving him at least the illusion of privacy. He looked up and found the sheriff bent over paperwork. For a man currently without a heart he was kinder than most people Gold knew. He would have to find a way to thank him.

“You were supposed to go on a date last night.” By mid-afternoon Gold was going stir crazy. It took a lot of willpower not to pace the small space he was allotted. At least he hadn’t started trying to climb the walls. He’d done that once upon a time; it wasn’t a good thing. His day had been broken up very little. There had been a donut for breakfast and a pastrami sandwich for lunch. Other than that there had been a few conversations and a great deal of staring at the clock. Graham had escorted him to the bathroom a few times, the extent of his freedom. The station didn’t have a shower, though, and he still wore the suit he’d put on the day before. “Another regret from last night.”

“I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.” The moment she spoke Emma’s face went carefully blank. He knew that look. She hadn’t meant to say that. Suddenly the papers on her desk seemed very interesting from the focus she was giving them.

“Having second thoughts about the sheriff?” He’d been gone the past hour with some vague mention of ‘rounds’ which might have been true or might have been about giving them some privacy to talk about Henry and how he was coping. Gold hadn’t noticed anything unusual between the two of them.

“More like second thoughts about me.” Emma gave up the pretense and came to sit on the edge of the sofa. “It’s not the date, it’s what comes next.”

“A second date?” He raised one eyebrow and tilted his head to the side, waiting. He had a pretty good idea what she meant.

“Two dates I can handle. Maybe even three. But after that it’s not just going out on a date. It’s something more. Graham is a really great guy whose last relationship was really bad. He doesn’t need another disaster.”

“And you’re certain it would be a disaster?” ‘You could’ve had happiness if you just believed that someone could want you. But you couldn’t take the chance.’ He could almost hear Belle, from a lifetime and a world away. She would have believed in Emma and the Sheriff.

“It always is. Casual I can manage. Anything else and I fuck it up.”

“You haven’t fucked up anything with Henry. And while I can’t say much for your accommodations here I have no other complaints about you as a houseguest.”

“It’s not the same. Plus the fact that I haven’t messed up too badly with Henry yet just means the other shoe hasn’t fallen.”

“Emma, there’s no one in the world I would trust with Henry more than you.” She didn’t see herself as a mother, not yet, but he could see it. It hurt to know that there might be a time when he was no longer the best parent for Henry, but at least he knew his son would have a fierce protector in his mother. “If anything were to happen to me…”

“You haven’t even been in here for a day yet, Gold. Let’s not get all dramatic.” Never overly comfortable with emotions, Emma shifted slightly. Gold could almost see the wall building around her. He knew a lot about walls.

“I shut out love when it was mine for the taking, Emma. And love is like a delicate flame. You can’t turn smoke back into fire. When it’s gone it’s gone” She looked so much like her father. He almost shook his head at the irony of giving them both advice in the same twenty-four hours. “One of us should learn a lesson from all this, and I’m afraid that it’s too late for me. It’s not too late for you.”

“I should call Graham. To find out when he’s going to be back,” she clarified. “It’s almost time to go pick up Henry.”

“Of course.” There was nothing else for him to say. Perhaps he’d said too much already.

Emma made her call and stayed at her desk, making it clear she wasn’t going to be talking anymore. Perhaps he’d ask Emma to pick up a few books when she took Henry home. It would at least alleviate a little of the monotony. He would need to start putting together his legal defense, at least. He was about to ask when Regina walked into the station.

Damn. If there were going to be bars between them he'd prefer she was the one on the inside.

“Deputy Swan, you may go. I need a moment alone with your prisoner.” She walked through the station as if she was still royalty.

“I’m not going anywhere.” It was nice to see, the way she stood between his cell and Regina. Nice, but not conducive to learning what Her Majesty wanted. She hadn’t set Moe French up simply for a laugh.

“It’s time to pick up my son, Emma. Why don’t you take him out for an ice cream?” He couldn’t help rubbing it in that Henry was his child. Regina had been desperate to be a mother once, a fate he was always glad Henry had avoided. Regina didn’t treat her possessions any better than she treated her enemies.

“I’m not leaving you alone with her.” He knew her concern for him was genuine, but as she looked over at the doorway he knew that she was worried about more than just him. Graham should be back any minute. All the more reason to get their little talk over with.

“She can’t do anything but talk, and that’s nothing to worry about. You can bring me back a cone.” He smiled to reassure her.

“Run along dear,” Regina commented dismissively. A poor decision on her part since it almost made Emma change her mind. After a moment’s hesitation, though, she went for her coat.

“Just this once,” she said as she left. Gold waited a moment before saying anything.

“Come to test out your reelection speech on a captive audience, Madame Mayor?”

“Perhaps I just came to admire the view. I could get used to this.” When she smiled she was every inch the evil queen.

“Please, sit.” He was careful not to use the trick too often, but the fact that she was forced to comply wiped the grin off her face. She sat on the edge of the couch where Emma had been not long ago.

“I heard you did quite a number on that poor florist. At least you didn’t break his legs; it would be tragic if he had to walk with a limp.” As usual Regina was not subtle, going for the easy hits.

“There’s no reason to start pretending you care about anyone else, dearie. Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here.” When she glanced at her purse he knew. Relief flooded him. “When two people both want something the other has, a deal can always be struck. Do you have what I want?”

“Yes.” She was so smug, so proud of herself. He was reminded of a child figuring out a task on their own for the first time.

“So, you did put him up to it.” He’d only had a small flicker of doubt. On his own Maurice might have smashed up his house. Might even have stolen. He wouldn’t have gone after the cup. He had no way of knowing the significance.

“I merely suggested that strong men take what they need.” He almost laughed at Moe French being called a strong man. He was a weak and insignificant person. How his Belle had come from such a man he didn’t know.

“And you told him just exactly what to take.” She had been more observant than he had realized, to understand the significance of his cup.

“We used to know each other so well, Mr. Gold.”

“Did we?” He understood her. She was the worst he’d ever done, molding her into the darkness he needed. The curse castor and the curse breaker, two women he’d manipulated into being. Both so hurt by his actions. But while Emma had his guilt and sorrow, Regina had his scorn. He understood her, but she didn’t know more than a fraction of who he was. “I know you well enough to know you have what I want. The question is what you want in return.”

Her eyes narrowed. He wasn’t playing her game. She wanted to gloat. But she wanted something else and that was what he needed to know, almost as much as he needed his treasure returned. “I don’t have all day, dearie. If you’re not interested in a trade…”

“I want you to answer one question. And answer it simply. What’s your name?”

“It’s Mr. Gold.” So that was her game. He hadn’t expected that, and had to work hard to sound as if he didn’t have a clue what she meant. It seemed his four-month advantage had come to an end. She knew that she wasn’t the only person who remembered.

“Your real name.”

“Every moment I’ve spent on this earth, that’s been my name.” He was stalling, trying to figure out the best way to play her and still get what he wanted. The fact that he was so clearly frustrating her was just a bonus.

“But what about moments spent elsewhere?” He wondered how long she had suspected. Did she know that he was the one that had hit her when she was trying to kill Graham? Did she think that he had known the whole time?

“What are you asking me?”

“I think you know. If you want me to return what’s yours tell me your name.” She knew. There was no way he could deny it. All he could do was use it.

“Rumpelstiltskin.” With a single word he could feel Mr. Gold and all his illusions of humanness shed. Decades fell away and he was in another cell hidden in a cave, feeling the bitter taste of an almost victory that would destroy everything he knew. When he grasped the bars he could almost feel the crackle of unusable magic under his skin. “Now give me what I want.”

“Such hostility.” Like a child poking a dangerous animal she couldn’t resist baiting him. She probably thought she was hiding the fear in her eyes.

“Oh, yeah.” He wanted her to be afraid. He needed it, to make sure she didn’t come near those he cared about. She had played her role in taking his Belle. She wouldn’t endanger Henry. He needed Emma safe too; the curse would be pointless without the Savior.

“Over this?” When he took the cup from his purse he stared at it, hating her fingerprints in the same place where Belle’s had once been. He forgot to breathe. At least he knew she hadn’t destroyed it. “Such a sentimental little keepsake.”

“Thank you Your Majesty.” The moment it was close enough he snatched it, pulling it from her hold. He slunk back from the bars and cradled it carefully in his hands. Other than the chip it was undamaged. Belle’s cup, safe again in his possession. He took a breath and pulled his gaze from it. Regina was already too aware of its significance. He looked at her. “Now that we’re being honest with each other, let’s remember how things used to be, shall we? And don’t let these bars fool you, dear. I’m the one with the power around here. I’m going to be out of here in no time, and nothing between us will change.”

It was a promise. It was a threat. And though he’d long since abandoned any gods it was a prayer.

“We shall see.” Always one to feel like she had the last word, Regina was quick to leave.

Gold starred at his treasure until he heard voices. Graham, Emma, and Henry all entered the station at the same time, just a moment after Gold slipped the cup into his pocket. He’d rather avoid explaining it.

“Dad.” Henry raced for the cell, his hands touching the same bars Gold had held onto just minutes ago.

“Henry.” He was grateful to see his son, as much as he hated that Henry would forever have the image of jail bars in his head now.

“We were afraid a cone would make a mess.” Emma unlocked the cell door and stepped inside, handing Gold a paper cup with a scoop of ice cream inside. He was certain the rainbow sprinkles were Henry’s doing. “If I leave the door open you’re not a flight risk, right? I think someone might like to keep you company.”

“Can I really?” Henry looked up at Emma, eyes shining bright and the remains of ice cream on his lip.

“I can’t see that it would hurt anything. I’ve got some paperwork to do.” She tried to head for her desk, but Henry stopped her with a fierce hug around her waist. Emma stiffened briefly before relaxing and returning the hug. “Go on, kid. I think your dad could use one of those.”

Henry ran into the cell and flung himself at his dad. Gold pulled him onto his lap, careful of the cup in his pocket, and held him tight. One love was lost to him forever. One son was still out of his reach. But he still had Henry. “My boy.”

#verse: henry gold #fic: henry gold #my fic #emma swan #graham humbert #henry gold #gremma #swan believer #mr. gold

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sailtoafarawayland · 4 years ago

Text

Oh, Captain!

Summary - Emma think’s she’s hurt Killian and deals with the consequences, saving him from himself just might be the one she didn’t see coming.

Rated for all, no warnings.

Tumblr Exclusive for now- will be posted over at AO3 and FF (Farawayland) when life allows. I just needed to write some happy what with all this not happy I’m watching on the news. Most likely a one-shot.

Chapter 1

Emma’s heart was in her throat.

He knew.

He knew, and she hadn’t even been the one to tell him.

“Don’t!” she pleaded, catching up to him and snatching at his sleeve, her fingers seizing the thin, black fabric and wrapping around his forearm. “Killian, please…”

The warmth of her hand, the chill of her fingertips—they were always so cold, despite his many attempts to warm them—stopped him in his tracks, the tension between them slackening as he allowed himself to be swayed back toward her, but she held on tightly, too afraid to let him go.

Afraid of what he would do.

“Am I supposed to simply let it go, Emma?”

She could hear the outrage, low and dangerous, in his voice—and it hurt, because she knew it was her fault.

“Belle shouldn’t have said anything—I told her not to, that I would handle it. I just wanted to wait until after tonight. I was afraid if you knew he’d kissed—”

“He kissed you?” Killian growled, his features darkening as he yanked his arm from her grasp, the prop hook clattering to the floor between them as he stormed toward center stage where Neal was mid-scene with Tinkerbell.

“Shit,” Emma groaned.

Belle probably hadn’t mentioned that, had probably only implied she’d seen Neal hitting on her and refusing to take no for an answer, but had left out the part where he’d tried to steal a kiss.

Emma didn’t know why she had so much trouble with words—why the things in her head couldn’t just exit her mouth in the right way, or at least in a way that didn’t always make things worse. It should have been so easy to explain—that the minute Neal leaned in, she’d shoved him halfway across the library, and if that hadn’t left an impression, she had a right hook ready. That in that moment, she’d been so sorry that she’d insisted on keeping her relationship with Killian a secret. That she wanted nothing more than to have been sitting there with his hand wrapped in hers, for everyone to see—no one else trying to take what wasn’t theirs.

Emma wavered where she stood, not sure how to process the shit show everything had become in such a small space of time. Killian was seething, his black leather coat flaring behind him as he stalked across the stage—much to the surprise of the cast performing. Ashley stumbled over her line and twisted her hands in the lime green tutu she wore as Killian reached them, his long fingers wrapping around Neal’s shoulder and jerking him into an about-face.

The gasps of confusion from the opposite wing were audible as everyone tried to figure out why Killian was on stage when he shouldn’t be, and the murmurs from the audience were no better. She was sure they were all wondering why Captain Hook was confronting Peter Pan out of nowhere. Time slowed as she watched Neal’s features twist from surprised to nervous, her eyes snapping down to Killian’s hand as he clenched it into a tight fist. She couldn’t take her eyes off the chunky, heavy jewelry from the prop department adorning his knuckles.

Props that she knew he was about to drive into Neal Cassidy’s face.

Principal Gold’s son.

The man who always had it out for Killian.

“Shit.”

Her boyfriend was about to get expelled, and it was all her fault. She should have told him earlier, but she couldn’t fix that now. She had to do something—anything—now.

Trying not to think about how far from normal this opening night was turning out to be, or how Wendy had no place in this scene, she rushed after him, doing the only thing she could think of to keep him from getting thrown out of his senior year.

“Oh, Captain!” she cried, feigning exhaustion and leaning heavily against the backdrop of painted, wooden jungle. She paused for a moment, catching her breath and glancing warily behind her, as if she were afraid at any minute something dangerous was going to pounce from the bushes.

Three sets of eyes from center stage turned to her, along with every head in the packed auditorium.

She caught her breath and tidied the blue bow perched on top of her perfect curls. “You found me! I thought I would be trapped here forever—”

Killian’s grip was still white-knuckled on Neal, who was starting to squirm uncomfortably, and Ashley looked like she wished she could actually turn into a ball of light and fly away, but she could see the curious sparkle in Killian’s eye beneath a cheekily arched brow, and it gave her the bravado she needed to keep going. She had no idea where this scene was headed with her at the helm, but it didn’t really matter.

Saving the play wasn’t the point.

Saving Killian was—the rest would just be a bonus if she could pull it off, so she continued.

“—stuck caring for Pan’s lost boys, washing their socks, cooking their meals, and do I ever get a thank you, Wendy—what delicious coconut salad, Wendy? No, never!” Righteous indignation flooded her face and she straightened her dress brusquely, angling toward the audience as she arched an eyebrow and rested her hands on her hips. “And let me tell you, not a single washing machine or microwave on the whole island.”

Not waiting for the reaction, but smiling inwardly as the wave of laughter rippled through the crowd, she turned her attention back to the strange trio that was a squeamish looking Peter Pan, a very nervous fairy, and an inscrutable Captain Hook. Relief washed over her as she saw Killian’s face losing that dark edge as she approached, her breath catching in her throat as they locked eyes. It may have been a cliché, but he’d always been able to do that to her, to just steal her breath away. It didn’t help that he looked sinful as anything in that pirate get-up. She thanked her lucky stars that he’d tossed that ridiculous wig and hat in the trash and decided to give Captain Hook his own spin.

He met her halfway between the wing and centerstage, letting go of Neal’s arm without a backward glance. To her surprise, the spotlight followed him, bathing them both in its glare as they came together. Her hand brushed along the rough stubble of his jaw before settling on the back of his neck, his arms circling her, and though he was dressed as a pirate, the possessive squeeze of his hand at her waist was all him.

There was anger and regret simmering, she could see it in the way he held his jaw, but there was also happiness, and laughter, and something more in the warmth of his eyes—something she would catch glimpses of sometimes when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, but she knew what it was, and that he held back for her—because she’d been so insistent about keeping everything between them a secret, because for some reason she was terrified if she admitted what she felt, and what she wanted, that she would lose it. It was a silly thing, and now it had hurt them.

“I never thought I’d fall in love with a pirate—” and it was not how she thought she’d tell him she loved him, so it was probably good that technically it was Wendy telling Captain Hook—“but you see me when no one else really does—made me realize that I have dreams, Captain. I can do anything I set my mind to. I can be anything—a lawyer, a sheriff, a high-end fashion designer specializing in faux-crocodile-vegan-leather accessories…”

She had no idea where that came from, but the raucous laughter from the audience made her feel a little better—at least they were having a good night. Then her gaze slipped to the side and she finally saw all of the horrified faces of the cast and crew watching the debacle from backstage. Well, maybe there was no way she was going to save the show, but even if Gold let loose, he couldn’t put the blame solely on Killian now. She was in the thick of it too, and she doubted he’d go so far as to expel Sheriff Nolan’s daughter.

“I’ve yet to see you fail, Wendy,” Killian asserted, and though the name was wrong and he was projecting enough to reach the back of the auditorium, she knew the words were meant for her, because he’d always believed in her, always believed in them.

She hated that she had been so afraid of what this could be, that she hid it away, worried if she put her heart out there, it would all fall apart.

“While I used to think that catching that crocodile was my happy ending,” Killian continued, grinding his jaw at the thought of the sneaky reptile, “I know now that it’s you, it’s always been you, so tell me, love,” and he dipped his lips closer to hers, teasing a kiss before turning his gaze on the audience, a rakish grin spreading across his face as he gestured broadly over the crowd, “will you sail away with me?”

“Always,” she breathed, “to the end of the world, and time!”

There was a roar of noise from the audience—laughter, clapping, whooping, whistling—and while she had no idea where the words had come from, what came next, well, that was no mystery. She grabbed her pirate, hands fisted in his jacket as she rocked into him, bodies swaying as their lips clashed. It didn’t matter that they were standing in front of the entire school, every detail illuminated by the hot spotlight—in that moment, there was nothing but the two of them.

It wasn’t until they broke apart—and if people hadn’t known about them before, they sure did now—that Emma heard anything outside their bubble, but then it hit—the crowd was clapping and laughing, perhaps at the insanity of it all, but who cared. Gold’s voice was cutting through the chaos backstage, reaching that thin, forced pitch that meant he was furious, and Belle was already picking up the pieces. Neal was grumbling and nursing his arm—maybe the best acting he’d ever done—beating a retreat from the stage, and the rest of the cast and crew couldn’t take their eyes off of her and Killian as they scrambled to close the curtains and help Belle figure out what came next.

Emma tugged Killian into the wing and back through the stacks of equipment and props to a quiet corner, wanting to find a place they could speak, but also to remove him from Gold’s eyesight as quickly as possible.

“I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“Emma,” he murmured, tilting her chin up so she could see the truth in his words. “I’m not upset with you. How could I be?”

“It was my fault. If I hadn’t insisted that we keep our relationship a secret, then he…”

“Oh, Swan. It is not your fault that Neal assaulted you.”

“Assault is a little…look, if he had known we were together, he wouldn’t have tried to kiss me.”

“He shouldn’t have tried to force a kiss on you, regardless. You’ve been more than clear, for years, that you have no interest in him. Though, maybe I shouldn’t have lost my temper and stormed the stage,” Killian admitted, ducking his head and scratching his ear in that way that always made her heart flutter. “Thanks for saving me from myself, lass.”

“I meant what I said, Killian,” she whispered, her voice dropping as she pushed the words out before they could crawl back in. “I think…I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

“Are you sure it’s not just the hook, Swan?” he teased, giving her the out, because he just understood her that well, but she could see the hope in his eyes, and suddenly all of that old trepidation was gone.

“You’re not even wearing the hook,” she pointed out. “I’m sure, Killian Jones. I love you, whether you’re a smoldering-eyed pirate, or not.”

“You think my eyes smolder?”

“Stop it!” she laughed, shaking his shoulders gently as he waggled his brows at her, the both of them enjoying the smile of the other before he grew serious once more.

“And I love you, Emma—so much.”

“Yeah, I know.”

* * *

Gold’s fury had tapered down to mild annoyance by the next morning, no small thanks to Sydney Glass and his cover story on their humble production. He’d praised the comical genius of their work, calling it far from ‘just another retelling of the same old story’. He highlighted the unexpected romance and praised the heartfelt acting of the two leads, whose whirlwind chemistry swept the audience away. He even went so far as to paint the play as a tongue-in-cheek examination of eternal youth versus personal growth, and while Emma thought that the whole piece was a little lofty, she was more than happy that there hadn’t been any blowback on Killian for his stage-crashing.

Overall, opening night hadn’t been a total failure, and Belle had been more than capable of a hasty rewrite for their follow-up performances. While Neal wasn’t thrilled with his sudden decrease in lines, Emma was hardly going to complain that she got to kiss her smoldering-eyed Killian Jones on stage each night—and if the hook and pirate costume went missing from the prop department for some reason, she doubted anyone would notice.

END

#Captain Swan #captain swan ff #emma swan #killian jones #captain hook #cs fanfic #cs au #cs ff

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courtorderedcake · 5 years ago

Text

Hallow Chapter xiii - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch / ?? - In which they will always find each other, but it may cause an argument

Waking up next to her should have embarrassed him, should have absolutely mortified both of them from the impropriety of the action, even clothed. It felt right, though, or even safe, but it was another strange magic that he didn't want to ask about. There had been a moment of uncertainty when she woke up, her eyes alert immediately as she looked at him, then relief until he whispered a rough good morning. Panic had set in, and her eyes screwed shut as she tensed, whispering to herself. Not knowing what to do, he rose to leave, only to have her grip his wrist.

Her eyes were wide, but the fear was easing. "No. I just, I just need a moment. I thought it was real. Sometimes you feel so right, and I forget where we are. Wait, have you and I… We haven't been intimate, have we?" Her voice raised in its pitch, and Killian choked out a cough. His face burned and he would not look anywhere but the ceiling.

"No!" Emma blushed as well, and he looked at her shyly for just a moment before looking at his feet. “No. Nothing like that. You just sleep better next to me, and I… I sleep better too.”

"Oh. That's… Thank you for doing this, then. I feel tired to my bones. It never stops, this exhaustion."

"What could I do to make it easier for you?" he whispered, and she laughed, closing her eyes to pinch at the bridge of her nose. "Emma?"

"It's just - I don't know how to deal with this, with you, this early. You're so kind, so nice! And it makes me feel…" Her eyes opened in irritation, hand touching his cheek as something lurked just below the surface, hiding what she wasn't saying. Gently letting her fingers trace through his stubble, she searched his face.

Leaning closer, he pressed a kiss to her palm, whispering to her contentedly. "Makes you feel what exactly?"

"We could have been -"

Lilly rapped at the door frame, completely nonplussed by his presence in Emma's bed, or their current closeness.

"Isaac and Cruella ask of you tomorrow," she drawled, before picking at a long fingernail. "You'll need your strength, and to be ready. I couldn't persuade them, and I'm sorry."

Emma was up in an instant, pleading with her friend. "Please Lilly. You told me we were friends, I can't keep doing this. Last time made me forget, and I -" Killian could barely hear as they walked to the small bunk Lilly kept. She didn't sleep in the house, which Killian found strange, but Lilly herself was strange. She had appeared shortly after Emma, but had always been Emma's shadow and caretaker. It was just normal, along with her disappearing for months, sometimes years. Standing, he crept to the door frame, straining to hear.

Emma called for him, told him to let himself out and she would meet him at the library. Not willing to miss this chance, he waited instead, listening to the women argue.

"I don't know either, but Cruella is demanding another session," Lilly was hissing. "You still have to fulfill your promises, and yeah, I do regret this, Emma. But what choices do I have? Neither of you are exactly the picture of suffering!"

"We are! This isn't real, and I can't stand the thought of what will happen when it's over. I made a promise, but it wasn't for this. It never included -"

"Oh boo hoo, he's happy. He's not a villain. You get to live ages together. Is that really what you want me to bemoan with you? Complaining that you are both content?" Lilly's voice was raised, anger lacing each word. "And you, you are the one spending time with him! If you are that scared, stay away from him and make it clear that you aren't -"

"That's not fair," Emma's voice wavered. "You know that's not fair. This is not a reward fitting the consequences - "

"It’s not? Or is it because you are scared you feel something for him?" Lilly wasn't visible, but he could hear the triumph in her tone.

"I - This isn't him. It's confusing, and I hate it. I don't know if this is some trick, or -"

"Oh Emma," Lilly laughed darkly. "Do you think that any of us have that much control? It's his memories, or his thoughts, because you're giving him power here. It's whatever he is underneath, mixed up with anything you added. Your memories and his are one giant pool, and you're just going to have to wait it out. This is on you. You helped sustain his memory of whatever her name was for far longer than - "

"Milah. Her name was Milah," Emma snarled. "This is the furthest we've ever gotten, because we keep finding each other - and whenever we do, everything falls apart. I am getting weaker every iteration. I can't keep giving you my power and sustaining this without completely losing myself - then who will bring him back? Who will bring me back?"

"I won't let them do that, Emma, I will protect -"

"Could you honestly stop them? If the answer is no just stop. Lilly, I'm scared."

Killian listened, confused but with a strange feeling of expectation as he tried to understand the vague feeling of anger he held. He shifted, able to peek around the corner without being seen.

"Then tell them that! Tell them you refuse sessions until you've had time to rest."

"I have. I know I have. I never should have brokered this deal, it felt off. Killian was the reason I said yes to it, and even he was acting bizarre. I know you wanted to think it was you, but he was the tipping point."

Lilly looked at her oddly, her face paling. "How was he acting bizarre? When did you talk about it?"

"He was - he brought it up that I should take the deal. I asked and he said you had told him, but he was just, his mannerisms were so strange. He acted like -"

"Like Cruella?" Lilly asked, her voice going low, and serious. "Emma, I didn't tell Killian anything. He came to me and said he was drugged, darted with kraken's ink and a potent dose of belladonna. If he wasn't the Dark One he would have died ."

Killian felt like he'd been dipped in cold water at the mention of a darkness, his spine turning to a column of ice. The feeling passed as quickly as it came.

"Instead, he said he woke up to find out that you went under. He was furious, said that he should have protected you, and I begged him to take the draught to reach you in sleep like I had. He did after yelling at me for being an idiot, and now he's here. He has never known what is happening with my people or me, never agreed to let you do this. If these aren't your memories -"

"They're his. That's the only explanation. I wouldn't be surprised if some of yours are mixed up in these too, but I can't remember a lot that came before any longer."

Lilly shifted nervously, grimacing. "I guessed as much, but this is insane - What are you going to do? Being in his head with the Darkness - If you really are forgetting more each time, or all of it, how do we know this is really him, or if the Darkness can get to you or - "

"I'm going to tell him everything. He's real. I trust him." Emma said firmly, taking a few steps towards his location. "I'm absolutely sure the Darkness isn't here. It's just him." He froze, but Lilly stood, shaking her head with a small smile.

"'Just him'." Lilly laughed. "You don't just trust him, you love -"

"I know. I know Lilly. Gods help me should I ever escape, he will never feel the same," Emma muttered, her blushing face making the green in her eyes so bright when they met his as he stood from his hiding spot.

Stepping out of her room, he ignored her sputtering protests and roughly brought her lips to his. She melted into the kiss, hands going from fluttering in surprise to gripping his shoulders to pull him closer, his tongue chasing hers tentatively.

Lily groaned, throwing her hands up. "Gross," she muttered, and sat in a dining chair with a huff.

"Well, hi," Emma sighed out, murmuring against his lips. His forehead touched hers, and she smiled up at him radiantly.

"Good morning."

"I have wanted that for so many, many mornings, so yes. It is a good morning at last," Emma whispered, her fingers holding tightly just below the hair at the nape of his neck, their next kiss broken by Lilly's loud throat clearing.

"I don't know which I like worse, you pining after each other or you pawing at each other. Just mate and be done with it, Fiore I beg thee," Lilly groaned. Emma giggled lightly and Lilly grumbled as she made her way out the door. "I'll be back in one hour to plan. Get your fill of face sucking until I return. If you forget after Cruella makes her move, it's likely going to take a while before it happens again."

"Lilly?" Emma called after her friend.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for looking after us. If I forget again, remember how happy I am that you are watching out for me," Emma said with sincerity. Killian felt a twinge of anger he could not explain, an itch at the back of his mind that tried to move forward.

Lilly looked sad, but blushed bashfully. "Don't thank me, Emma. Besides, what are friends for?"

She left, lingering in the doorway for just a moment while Emma tightly hugged him, before shutting the door quietly behind her. Killian had the vague memory of a dragon burning down a castle, Emma calling the dragon a traitor as it flew, asking it why, begging it to stop while using its name - Lilly.

The thought never passed his lips, Emma sending him to the floor to press herself against him.

"I've wanted to kiss you again so badly here, so many times when you told me that the lives we were together in weren't real -"

"Emma," He pulled away abruptly, concerned. "I understand that both you and Lilly buy into this idea that we all are cursed, but I need you to understand that a future together means letting that go."

"But - you don't believe me? Please, I'm not crazy, I -"

Killian shook his head, gently smoothing her curls. "No one said anything about you being crazy, love. Please, just listen."

"You are accusing me of imagining this then, that's it? And Lilly's just what, tolerating me or placating me?" Emma looked at him with clear upset, pulling off of him and back to sit on her heels. "Don't be pedestrian -"

"I need you to hear me out, please." Sitting up, he grabbed for her hands with his own, his hook against her thigh. Her distrusting look of appraisal did not send him comfort. "Milah wrote me letters, she said she saw the way you looked at me and how I looked at you, but she wanted you to be better. She thought both of us deserved a chance where you were healthy of mind."

"I wish you had just remembered." Emma pulled her hands from him, rising to her feet. Killian reached for her, but she shook her head and turned away from him. "You never trust me, or yourself. Don't you feel any sense of this being wrong? Please, Killian."

"If I humor you, will you please consider treatment of some sort? It pains me to see you go into fits, even if it brought you to feel something for me. I don't want to take advantage of that."

"Fine, you want to humor me? How big is this island?" Emma stood, glaring at him with her eyes narrowed. Fire flashed behind the green of her pupils. "Why have your brother and Elsa only shown up when you think they should? And Olaf, that sweet boy, why has he disappeared? Why can't you remember why you have a hook for a hand, or why your father and Nemo have gone without a trace, or even how old you are or what day it is?"

"I - That's - That's preposterous, and insulting to my family -" He stood, shaking his head.

The island was large but had strange terrain, that was true. The Blackwater was rocky cliffs, pine forest, and dark ocean with stone buildings. The Baelfire was shrubby inland swamp and bog with beautiful flower fields. The beach and town were peaceful sandy coves that lead up to apple orchards and pumpkins, all within at most a half hour’s walk in any direction... Why did he not remember the cartography? He was raised to be in the navy, as Liam was, he should be able to say with certainty. And yes, his brother. Liam and Elsa had taken over the Blackwater when Father had gone. Nemo and Father did not check in with him, they were grown men who were probably sailing the warmer coasts. Olaf had to have gone to some school or back to Elsa's kingdom, that was easy enough.

His hook caught the light, and he tried to make out the memory of why it shot pain through him. A shard of something had pierced him, but the memory being foggy was just a side effect. As for his age, he'd stopped caring to count, and as for the day, it was a Saturday because the library opened whenever he felt like it. The library opened whenever he felt like it, but later than usual on Saturday's, and rarely on Sunday's. The pervasive feelings of something not being right or wrongness in some thoughts or feelings regarding memory was just her casting doubt.

"I knew Elsa when she was alive. I know of Liam, from her, from my home, and you. I tried to keep Milah alive for as long as I could. Please, just listen."

"Don't you dare twist her death," he hissed, pointing a finger at her, and advancing slightly. Not Milah. Emma couldn't -

"I'm not twisting anything, Killian. I hated every minute of not being able to keep your memory of her alive. I tried so hard, and it took so much magic just - "

He moved toward the door, now furious himself. "Enough."

Emma blocked his exit, grabbing him roughly to turn him as they moved outside. "Why won't you just believe me? Why can't you trust me, this one time without me being pulled apart to prove it to you? Why can't you just trust yourself enough to know that this is all wrong? You promised me!" Emma screamed at him.

"I thought I could handle this, and I was wrong. If I'm tied into your madness, I refuse to play into it like Lilly does. I can't, I can't do it, and this is why. I'm sorry, Emma." He pushed past, and he heard her frustrated cry as she sat on the stairs leading to the cottage.

He would swear that he heard her say something else as he left, words swallowed by the trees and his own anger.

"I'm so tired of hearing you apologize to me, Killian."

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

A day passed by, and Killian steadfastly held onto his anger with Emma despite the nagging voice of reason that tried to corrode his stubbornness. Three parts of his whole argued cyclically : If (A very small if, at that) Emma was mad, he had still promised to help and support her, but had instead acted in anger over something she conceivably couldn't help. If she wasn't mad (a large if), it could be that she brought up his family to push him out of anger, some sort of resentment for her own situation with her orphan past and adoptive family, meaning he had every right to be angry despite her clear emotional distress. If she wasn't mad, and somehow what she was saying was all true about past lives, living ghosts, and false memories (the largest if, by far), he had presumably left her before and she was terrified of the consequences of that abandonment.

It's easier to fight with himself when he's opening the dusty bottle of rum, ignored since Emma had eclipsed his lonely routines.

"Emma! Please love, answer me, I remember and I am sorry -"

Red claws raised, the woman who is not a woman lets Emma crumple at her feet, Isaac and Lilly watching dispassionately from their mounts.

"Too late puppy," she giggles.

He isn't graceful when he throws Emma over his shoulders, running into the woods away from the laughing false queen as she blows her horn. A fox calling a human hunt, his memory laughs at an unamusing joke at their expense. Killian tries to hide them, tries his hardest to nestle them in the gnarled roots of a creek bank. Emma blinks awake, looking at him as a stranger while he begs her to be quiet. When she says his name again, it's with a veneer of defeat.

"It's alright Killian. You won't remember dying here, and it doesn't hurt for long." Her hand tries in a feeble attempt to staunch the bleeding, face going paler as seconds fly by. "A little pain, then it's like falling asleep."

The black and white dogs - no not dogs, foxes - find them with ease. Killian pulls her from hiding to run, and Emma obliges even in her injured exhaustion. They duck behind trees and bushes, hooves growing louder by the second. Emma is calm, her face set in marble, completely impassive unlike he's ever seen her. This is his fault.

"I'm so sorry I left you alone, I didn't -" he tries, but she stops him with a slow shake of her head. She takes his hand as hoofbeats shake the ground. They're going to die, they are going to be killed - no. They're going to be separated, this is what happens when they are taken away from the other, violence to make it easier to rip them apart.

"I'm so tired of hearing you apologize to me, Killian," she whispers, stumbling slightly. The arrows in her back don't feel real, but nothing does because it isn't , and the next volley that hits him hurts for just a moment, before he's waking up to Liam saying someone's washed ashore. The nightmare forgotten in a child's curiosity, lost within another dream.

His head pounded as he woke from too much drink, groaning at the feeling of being so hungover. He couldn't focus, even as his hands pressed into his eyes to abate the throb of his skull. His hand throbbed too, the cut pulsing and angry.

Pulling his hands back slowly in confusion, he looked hard at the gash that halved his palm, the way his fingers have stiffened into a claw like hook, the swollen flesh red and angry. Blinking, he stared in disbelief, until the illusion disappeared before his very eyes and the silver metal of his hook lay heavy on his knee. It shot a not so phantom pain through his arm, and Killian felt ill.

From his home it is a ten minute sprint to the Blackwater, the doors pushed wide open into the courtyard that is being reclaimed by evergreen and moss. It smells like rain, clouds thick in the sky, making it look like a blanket of eggshell and gray set out to block the sun. Liam shouted after him when he ran past, greeting him in confusion while Killian searched for the room he knows he does not remember.

Is a room still a room if it isn't remembered? If a tree falls in it and no one is there to hear, does it still exist?

The door handle was an elegant french curve, but was placed high on the door at just below his chest level, his stomach turning at the memory brought back to this place. He hadn't opened the door since he was twelve, his height not catching up with him until later. The handle was where he would have remembered reaching for it, remembering opening it to see his pale mother waste away in her quiet room until the day she wore her death shroud.

Liam called down the corridor, but Killian pushed the door open regardless, its blurred images and blank areas making bile rise in his throat. The bed was clearly defined, its canopy like a mouth and where Killian had always looked first no matter what. Nothing else in the room could draw his eye from his mother in her pink velvet bed with its many tassels and golden pull cord. The pull cord appeared, falling down from the ceiling to the bedside, his sudden memory of it bringing it into the tableau. Liam reached from behind him and sighed, closing the door.

"Don't do that to yourself little brother," Liam said, solemnly. "Leave her room closed, there's nothing but bad memories of her in there."

Killian couldn't help the insane bubble of laughter that burst from his mouth at the word 'memories', leaving a stunned and purpling Liam behind as he ran from the Blackwater to Emma's cabin. It took ten minutes to get there, and he panted out laughter at the absurdity of the truths Emma had laid out, calling her name. She didn't answer, leaving him to look for her behind her cottage, the beach down the trail, or anywhere else she preferred to go when she needed quiet. It was as if she had disappeared into thin air. A storm was rolling in, his nerves less important than finding Emma. He looped around again, surprised and then not at how easy it was to loop the island. This time he saw a flash of gold in the cliffs that lay just past her cabin.

Emma was pressed tightly to a ledge, sitting to lean against the rock as it crumbled from her scrabbling feet, one hand holding on to a root tightly and the other holding her opposite shoulder. The light muslin gown she wore was dark red under her hand.

"Emma?" he yelled up at her, her wide eyes meeting his. She pressed fingers to her lips in a wince, looking up at the cliffs as if expecting something. Killian began looking for a way up to her, the green smoke pouring over the edge catching him off guard. It swirled over the rocks, its mass forming a shape that resembled a clawed talon.

There was no explanation for how it picked Emma up, and flung her off the cliff face to the hard packed earth below.

Sprinting towards her as fast as his legs could carry him, he ran to where she lay sprawled on her side, her pale dress bright against the dark sand. Panic set in when she did not react at his touch. He brought her into his arms, rubbing her cold limbs. They warmed, and she sputtered, making a small keening noise when she moved. Her breathing was shallow, but she cracked a smile when her eyes opened to meet his own.

"Maybe we should reexamine the idea of you being mad, because I believe that it may be spreading," he whispered, leaning her over so she could cough.

"Killian," Emma sighed in relief when she had caught her breath.

"Darling, I don't know what is happening, but we're going to be alright. I'm sorry I didn't believe you, I'm sorry that I betrayed your trust by leaving you like that. I won't let anyone - " Two figures appeared on the far side of the beach, walking towards them as the sky turned to grey ash. Emma shook her head, panicking.

"I can't keep them from us, I'm too weak. I used everything I could on you and Milah," she whispered, her shoulder very clearly broken as she winced from trying to hold his hand.

Knitting his brow, he looked at their village leaders, Cruella and Isaac, then back to Emma. "Don't worry, it's Isaac and I'll just tell him -"

"No. You don't understand, we don't have time. I'm - Killian, I'm done for here. You don't need to die, you can hide, it will be easier if you hide. I don't want them to punish you. You're defenseless here, and they're going to drain me. Please, find me again. For now, you must go." Emma gave Killian an apologetic smile.

Isaac moved from behind her, wrenching her away with tremendous force. Lilly appeared from down the cliffside, the sky darkening to pitch as she tried to loosen Isaac's grip. Cruella surveyed the scene with a cruel smirk, her profile like ink on silk, eyes predatory as she strode towards him.

"Isaac, it seems that we have some resistance. Emma, isn't it about time you forget about your problems for a bit? Lilly, Killian, don't you want your friend to relax?" Cruella purred. Her words were like mulled wine and honey, and Killian felt his head go fuzzy.

Killian nodded, compelled to let Emma go into Isaac's grip, as Lilly hesitated.

"Please Lilly, don't do this. Please, we're friends. Killian and I have to go -"

Isaac interrupted with a wheezing noise, clamping a hand over Emma's mouth. "Lilly, do you want your cut or not?"

Lilly nodded solemnly.

Emma cried behind Isaac's palm, eyes flickering to look at them all as he searched for a way out as she struggled. The earth shook, the sky almost as dark as pitch, lightning and thunder assaulting the beach. Killian noticed he didn't feel discomfort, not even worry. The warmth in his chest made him feel tired, even as a place in his mind screamed that he needed to focus on Emma, get Emma out -

He let his eyes slowly meet her own, watching as Isaac removed his hand, letting go of Emma, her back arching and fists balling. Her eyes wrenched shut and she trembled, silently screaming, as magic poured out of her into Isaac's slowly moving palm. Isaac sighed, eyes fluttering, and stepped away.

Lilly raised a rock in front of Emma, holding what looked to be a mere smoothed lava stone, but in reality was a magical artifact, and Killian watched as again magic flowed out of Emma's body, curling tendrils softly wrapping around the stone and making it glow slightly. Before Lilly could pull away, Cruella threw her aside, standing in front of Emma with their noses almost touching. Killian felt his heart beat faster, and that voice calling on him to do something, do anything, was so loud now.

"Cruella, don't -" Isaac started, but was thrown aside with a flick of her red fingernails, disappearing into the air. Lilly charged the woman from the side, and Cruella simply laughed, and snapped her fingers, Lilly crumpling nearby.

"Now then. Let's make the best use of this meeting, my sweetly dreaming little princess.” With her black and white hair blowing in the wind, she turned to Killian with a wide grin that made the angles of her face dark with shadows. Her red amulet seemed to smolder, green smoke pouring from around her. "Lover boy can watch so he can see what it is he's up against every time he ruins one of these dreams. It doesn't matter how many you destroy, I'll make sure that she is happy and get what I want. You won't take her from me, puppy."

Emma made a small noise of protest, but Cruella's long fingers sprung out to wrap around her neck. Emma’s eyes shot open, wide and completely white, powerful magic pouring off her while her tears reflected on her cheeks like diamonds.

Killian took a step toward them, and another, stumbling on the now uneven sand. Looking toward the village, he could see it breaking away, floating in places as it caved in on itself. As if the information was always there in his mind, he knew with a dulled realization that his brother, his family, were all long dead or never there.

Cruella's cackle made his head snap to look at Emma, watching as the magic that was like rays of sunshine was being pulled into Cruella's body, the light swirls of it going dark as it touched her. Emma's fists went limp, her fingers uncurling and head beginning to loll, her own magic mixing with the dark of Cruella's, going more of a gray before dimming. Cruella let her drop to the sand, the small patch of beach they all were on the only thing left on a stark white canvas as she disappeared in a cloud of dark black smoke. His legs still felt leaden, but Killian moved in a clumsy and scrabbling crawl towards Emma, finding her barely breathing, her nose and ears bleeding slightly. The beach shrunk further as he cradled her closely, Lilly's unconscious body disappearing.

Fractures appeared around them, the whiteness creeping up with speed. Emma's eyes flickered open briefly, dull and tired, looking up at him with confusion.

"Who…?" she murmured, before falling back into unconsciousness.

The white had crept up all around them, Killian’s foot falling off the crumbling edge he now balanced on, Emma's legs almost pulling him away and into the nothingness. He gathered her closer, pulling her onto his lap, before they fell into the white abyss. It darkened quickly, smoke and debris making them spin, Emma's body tucked into his own.

Stroking her hair he kissed her forehead, whispering softly that they would be alright, their descent either slowing or bodies growing used to the velocity. She didn't answer or stir, her breathing at least steady, but he felt her nose begin to drip again and tore off a piece of his shirt to hold there. She struggled then, frustrated that her nose was blocked most likely, waking briefly.

"What….?"

"Emma, I don't know -"

"Emma? Who…? Who is Emma?" she asked, confused.

"You're Emma, Princess Emma. That's your name, please -"

"I'm Emma? Who are you then? Where are we and why can't I see you?" She touched his face, slowly running her hand over his cheek. "I know you."

"Yes, love. You do. I'm -"

And then he gripped nothing, the hand on his cheek replaced with a gentle stirring of cold air, silence falling around him in the vacuum of where the princess no longer was. He shook his head, suddenly confused. The princess, he'd called her that hadn't he? Memories assaulted him one after the other without mercy.

Yes, the princess, the sleeping princess, her body next to his in the Kitsune cathedral, raised on a dais of marble. Lilly begging him to wake her, his own fears after waking from some attack confirmed, warning that the imprisoned Kitsunes had made their play, and Emma -

Emma was in danger of wasting away, becoming a husk of what she was. She lay so still, he could see the memory of her pale face and body dressed in the crimson color of the apples in their orchard, the square cut of the neckline barely moving. The Darkness had rejoiced and asked the Dragon princess to take the shard, but Killian had fought for her, made the draughts himself from the library to join her, and when he failed, she brought him back again and again.

How many times had he failed her? How many times did she have to whisper for him to remember or to find her, always to find her? That this time he was her savior and the guide out of this place?

Isaac's voice hissed right in his ear, "Come then, villain. We will let you be the hero." Killian fumbled through the smoke, searching for the man flailing through darkness. The world spun faster and faster, the crack to the side of his head mercifully stopping its wandering.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The real losers in this terrible scheme are as always, the Other's prey: its own kind taken mercilessly. They don't know the secret of their cull, the Other hides her falsehoods from them with care. They believe that the Other is a force of good.

Emma knows better.

An empty husk cannot reveal the Other's secret and her deceit. If Emma were to wake and tell tales of the Other taking more magic than needed, of creating these hollowed out husks to gorge itself, of the monster that waits in shadow to feast, or of its rigging the system to snub even what was once called friend - the result would be turmoil.

It's been easier to fix the game every single attempt, the process growing smooth, but this has been the easiest yet for the Other to win. Usually, the Other's pet, the Author, shares this stolen magic with the island after the unlucky victim burns out, grinding to nothing. They hollow, empty themselves, become hungry ghosts that fall together to have something in their lonely attempts to fill themselves with life. They go willingly to their ends for ideas of glory and duty, of the chance to be a savior; they believe they know the heaviness of the title. It's trickery, trickery that Emma herself has fallen for - a sacrifice that is supposed to be just a marginal chance in a lottery, but this time Emma is here instead. It's a welcome gift the Other cannot believe has fallen into its lap, a hen house full of plump chickens unlike anything the Other dared to dream of, a never-ending meal for its gluttonous creation.

In this place, realities are mixing together and Emma is losing her mind, sometimes even within memories that are not her own; minds immersing in each other in overlap. It is almost too easy for the Other to win this game.

Emma's magic keeps coming without end, magic that is draining steadily to break this curse that Regina and Queen Snow have bungled. A spell that is both broken and at the same time not; cast wrong in the midst of war, cast by a distraught friend turned foe knowing that she must do something to prevent more death. It is a blade with a double edge, the spell meant to banish and preserve under a barrier, its power never anticipated being fought against. The many cracks in the spell have given way to create effects in the spell's makeup, rippling out into a terrible fate that no one could have foreseen. How do creatures made mostly of magic themselves survive without it? The barrier decays slowly, but the magic within leaks free through the cracks. The creature claws at it haplessly, and the Other simply held out until their lucky day.

The chance that Emma can give them freedom is too great to pass up, even if just for a few of them. No one could ever suspect the greater good is only for the few.

Emma falls again, and she is sure the Other is somewhere, smiling as it drains her, and pushes her one step closer to being devoid of everything.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The smell of tobacco and the feel of velvet registered in Killian’s mind as he stuttered to waking, the confusion and memories of what had passed hitting him in blurred increments. He was sitting in a wingback chair, the velvet arms a taupe color that complimented the quilt that covered part of the back. The room he was situated in was tall and rounded, stretched tall with shelves that seemed to go on for a great while. Windows dotted the circular walls where bookcases stuffed with tomes did not, and beams stuck out here and there as if they had been jammed in by a giant's great hand. The wood was wrapped thickly in rope that served as pulleys, dreamcatchers and strange charms hanging from any other unclaimed space. Scrolls, crystals, and sculptures sat in disarray all over the shelving. Beside him a fireplace crackled merrily, and across from him sat a chair matching his own, where Isaac looked on expectantly.

Killian attempted to spring up from his chair to throttle the smaller man, but reddish smoke appeared around him as Isaac yelped. The smoke formed heavy chains that pulled him back to his seat, Isaac looking at him from behind hands raised to protect his face.

"Wait, wait!" Isaac gasped out, and Killian struggled against the manacles. "Hold on -"

"Where's Emma?" Killian yelled, and Isaac lowered his hands. Killian tried again to lunge at him, Isaac flinching back slightly, but could not move farther than just above his seat. He growled, and Isaac laughed nervously.

"All in good time. Are you settled? We have a lot to discuss, my boy." Isaac sighed. "Tea? It's a dream, so I can get you any kind either of us has in our memory -"

"Where," Killian gritted out, "Is Emma you rotten---"

"No tea then. Okay. Well." Clapping his hands on his lap, Isaac looked at Killian with a patient smile. "How much do you remember?"

"Emma is asleep under your bloody rites, which she was tricked into because you are all well and good in some madness about sacrifices -"

"Yes well, living is quite important to us, as a species and just as a whole biological imperative," Isaac said with a bit of nervous amusement in his tone.

"You're killing your own kind, you wanking imbecile -"

"No, no, no - I'm not. That's not the intention or my purpose. I didn't even know about the hungry ghosts until a few cycles ago. Even then, Cruella is the monster. I want the Kits to go back, I don't like doing all this," he gestured, and Killian narrowed his eyes. "I'd rather be writing other things, you know."

"Writing?" Killian blinked, his confusion making Isaac grin.

"Yes, writing. I can write fantasies that happen in the dreamscape or if someone has altered perception. I write three strengthening tasks for this ritual normally, but… Emma has made that a bit more difficult." He pressed his fingers close together as if to pinch, in a gesture showing a small amount. "She's doing most of the work, I give her a few vague notions and boom - she's drowned the page in what she wants or expects to happen, or what you want or you expect to happen."

Killian let his shoulders sag. He thought for a moment, before asking quietly, "How long have we actually been here?"

"Just over a week. It's incredible, really. We've pulled you both from each other's minds so many times. You won't believe how many dreamcatchers I've had to make, but Emma, she fights that like it's nothing. A mere parlor trick." Isaac made a noise like a scoff, rubbing his temples. "Usually a Kitsune would have burned out around the third dream. Now, I've lost count how many iterations we've been through, some stacked on top of the other. The main formula remains the same, though: She dreams, we drain her magic that is heightened by the fantasy, and then it restarts. With Emma, it was hard to get her to restart initially, especially when you entered the picture. We started having to, well. Kill you both."

Blanching, Killian could not hide the shock on his face. Isaac laughed lightly, trying to pat him on the knee as he reared back from the man's touch.

Tutting slightly, Isaac shook his head. "Oh, don't be too upset. It only hurts in the dream and only for a moment… at least for you that is. I have no idea about your lady. She's entirely beyond my understanding, and her magic is unpredictable to the extent of creating chaos on already unstable magic."

Killian was floored, almost collapsing as if to melt into the armchair that mirrored Isaac's. Isaac continued on as Killian laid his head in his hands, one hand, no longer a hook, scratching at his scalp softly. He ached for Emma to be there to hear this, process this with him, possibly from the fact she currently shared his mind.

"Which, I mean, I can understand, it's old, esoteric magic work, but not failure proof. Like the separation of your little friend the Darkness. That took skill, and I was lucky to get it out on the first go, especially since you were quite the unexpected guest." Isaac gestured as if flicking off dirt. Killian stared at his hands, watching them shake.

Isaac cleared his throat, suddenly aware he was no longer being attentively listened to. Killian’s eyes snapped back and he continued on.

"But not my book, alright, and that's what - I mean as a researcher you must understand, I'm floored. The book has some of the strongest magic in these worlds, realms, and planes - and here, your 'Lass' is, fighting it off as if it was a glamour. Some people remember once or twice, but not everyday, and bringing herself to you or you to her! You weren't even supposed to fall asleep the first time, but you must have done something - a potion or draught maybe?" He rubbed his chin, thoughtful, before shaking the idea away.

"Regardless, there should have been no second time, but she just summoned you in like you were supposed to be there. We kept trying to stop you from saving her, or whatever she wanted. It's just incredible. It's not, it's just not feasible that she can break through in every pocket of memory, or time - we were completely blindsided by Milah, Liam, and Erica? No, Elsa, that's right; Emma's mind or magic - haven't figured out which yet - will not allow you to not have good memories, nothing could fight my quill with her giving the ink. If one of us stepped in to try and correct her, give her a little punishment by way of hurting you in some way, she would find a way around it. She's fascinating."

"So why are you letting this happen? Are you going to give her to Cruella?" Killian gripped the arms of the chair, heart racing again at the thought. "I won't let you -"

"Cruella?" Isaac let out a bark of surprised laughter, shaking his head. "No, no. Cruella isn't a friend of mine. We are… We rely on each other with a mutual vehement dislike. Cruella is just a leech that can shapeshift and manipulate, like her imitation of you to convince Emma or her thrall on the beach there. That won't work again on you, or at least not very well, her thrall is a one trick pony. Cruella has a great love of the finer things in life, and I helped her get them with my quill. She used me as she uses anyone within her reach. I haven't stopped since finding out about her trickery, because it would be a suicide mission. She'd make me a puppet or chain me away."

"You still should have said something you coward! How can you just sit there -"

"Because I don't have the trust of Mal and Zorro like Cruella does. Understand, Dark One, that they may rule this island on the surface, but it is that Kitsune She-Devil who pulls the strings and has everyone under her thrall." Isaac looked sad for a moment, but it quickly left his face as if he remembered himself. He cleared his throat and began again.

"Cruella, Maleficent, Regina and by proxy, myself, had plans to kill Snow Whitehart of the United Realms before she could take her place as queen. Maleficent and the traitor, Regina, backed out after Maleficent found herself with child, and Regina's precious Daniel Equi was killed by Goblins. They ran to the crown, and Regina's punishment was banishing her two closest friends to an island they cannot leave. Eternity is a long time on an island that you cannot escape. I don't care to stay, and I wouldn't mind to go." Isaac drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair before turning himself to sit sideways, head resting in his palm while his elbow pressed into the place his fingers had been.

Killian cocked his head confused. "You're safe here though, with plenty of food and that library -"

"Not exactly 'safe'. We're - both Kitsune and Dragons - Elemental beings. Not having magic stung as the spell began to decay from our attempts, but it's been fixed since we came up with the Harvest. We'd all rather not find out what happens when there is no magic as we are creatures that rely on it for survival," Isaac laughed darkly.

"I'm not in the lottery because I'm integral to keeping up the magic supply they divvy up. Que sera sera, as they say. Some of us have made peace, some gripe about the sacrifice, but Cruella has never known calm in her life. Especially now, since she's gotten quite a taste for Emma's powers, more so than ever. Hollowed out Kitsune after Kitsune doing her feeding, it's a shame." The same sad look crossed Isaac's face, like a cloud darkening where sunshine had been. Isaac rubbed his palm over his eyes and forehead, as if to rub it away, grunting slightly.

"Cruella wants to break out of this cage with her monster and do whatever it is her Goddess complex entails, and who should saunter into her web but a magic buffet that can do just that. Right now she's probably realized that we're talking, and looking for a way to prevent her prey from leaving. I truly think Emma will be left here a husk if Cruella has her way, taking all of her magic and letting her be the last piece to her collection of enraged spirits. I'm sure the princess has plenty of anger to feed that creature." The man shuddered, grimacing and closing his eyes tightly.

Killian blinked, turning his head to the side slightly to question Isaac. "What creature?"

"You haven't seen it then, the hungry ghosts all together?" Isaac raised a brow, sitting upright. "Oh, so you don't know about Cruella's pet! When you see that beast, you won't forget it. Cruella keeps it… hungry."

"How do I stop her? How can I protect Emma?" Killian almost pleaded, worry lacing the words.

"I think if Emma has nightmares in succession, she can escape with you. Cruella won't like it because you'll expose her avarice and her plans, but me, I'm not greedy. I'm simply curious. If I had my way, I'd want you both to stay so I can study her magic." Isaac waved his hand, with a flourish and the manacles that bound his wrists fell away to smoke. "I want to see if I can contain it like your dark little secret, or see if we can create a power supply from longevity, so if she were to stay - "

"Stay?" Killian interrupted.

"Yes, stay. We're secured against Goblin filth, you don't have the Darkness in you here, she doesn't have to go to war. She's safe, like her parents probably wanted. I'd let her sleep a few days each week, and she could have memories of her family there or dream of whatever she wanted. Emma's happy here, and once Maleficent gets wind of this, she won't have anymore of this distress with Cruella. Cruella will be lucky if she gets to experience distress, Mal will probably eat her in a single bite." Isaac let out a delighted laugh, turning again in his seat and giggling at the thought. He wiped tears from his eyes, throwing them aside.

Raising a finger and wagging it, he turned his head to look at Killian. "But, more importantly, you're happy here, and you're free. No need for that nightmare business or any unhappy thoughts. That's the other option, you see; you could give in. It's a paradise. There's always the off chance she truly does free us, as that would be preferable. I'm just looking at odds that say not good. The least favorable of course goes unsaid, but I'm inclined to think you like my alternative."

"I couldn't. Emma is fighting this with every bit of strength she has. She's made it clear that she can't possibly - she doesn't want to be here." Killian took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "She wants to actually find her family, be free of this, save her people and -"

"And now she has friends here, " Isaac shrugged, "You could be the hero for once, not the villain. I mean, don't you want that? She doesn't seem so clear when she figures out that this is really you. You could be a little selfish, Lieutenant."

"Those feelings - She doesn't really feel that way." Killian looked away, but could feel Isaac's smile without needing to see it. "And I can't do that to her, I can't lo - I can't enjoy her friendship only to have her realize that I…"

"You're going to give up a chance to see what it could be like if she and you were something more?" Killian tried to protest but Isaac silenced him with a noise.

"Ah, ah! The dear little princess obviously reciprocates your," Isaac coughed, laughing slightly as he made a strange gesture with his fingers, enunciating, "'Hidden Feelings'. And why wouldn't she? Without your Darkness, and her desire to die trying to save a kingdom that will war for ages after this, you two are pretty well matched."

Swallowing hard, Killian looked down at his boots. "No."

"Hm. Well, what do you say we give you both a few more days. Emma can't be taken out yet, she's still dreaming what is written. After that, she will be back to the waking world, hopefully with the barrier broken." Isaac sat up again, letting out a loud gasp. "Saaaaay - man to man, how about I do you a little favor? I'll make it so she knows who you are, and if all goes right, that she won't remember a single bit of this."

"Why? Just her and I, of what it could have been if we were just ordinary? Why would I do that to myself?" Killian looked at Isaac, his narrowed eyes easily showing his incredulity.

"Because she won't remember, and because once that toxic sludge climbs back on your bones, you'll at least have had a moment of happiness with her, before her inevitable end. Even a husk is a better option than what awaits her out there if she fails. That's a heavy risk, and I would wager that with your little dark conscience there, you might not be able to bet on anything but what it believes is the winning horse." Isaac shrugged once more, Killian's chest aching. "Regardless of if you want her to see you like this one last time or not, she's going to dream. Take it, or you can leave it."

"No tricks?" Killian said slowly. "What dream will she have?"

"No tricks. I don't know what her dream will be," Isaac shrugged again, scratching his balding head. "Whatever she's thinking of strongly, enough to enter the slumber."

"How can I trust you? What about Cruella?"

"You can't. I could just write another ending, make another dreamcatcher, tweak and twist things as much as I can against her magic making you miserable while keeping you trapped - but, I do prefer happy endings, the happiest for everyone being the barrier’s destruction. As the Kitsune leader, I'd prefer them to stop being turned into mindless zombies, and to be able to get good rice wine again." The reddish smoke appeared again, morphing into a red porcelain decanter patterned with a golden dragon. Two small cups without handles followed after it as they bounced down to Isaac. He offered some to Killian, but Killian shook his head. One of the cups vanished in a puff of smoke.

"I've been desperate for it, and they make the best batches in the Eastern mountains. As for Cruella, who knows what that witch is doing at any time; best to believe it's malicious and plan for the worst."

He threw back his glass, shivering with glee as it went down. The decanter and cup dissolved into nothing.

Killian hesitated for a long moment, leaning forward to place his face in his hands and scrub hard at the back of his neck. "You swear to me that she won't remember? That this, whatever this is, once we are out of here she'll be okay? That I can give her a chance, that she can maybe find someone worthy of her once she saves her family?"

"Wow, you actually believe she can succeed! You of all people know I can't guarantee safety for the princess. I'm doing the best I can as it is. If you want to stay around and protect her, feel free to risk it. I have no idea." Killian scowled at the man, who cocked his head mockingly. "Are you sure that you want to waste this obvious devotion you have for your lady love?" Isaac grinned.

"Isaac. Answer me. Will she remember?"

"Yes, yes. She won't remember. You'll have your precious memories, and only you." Reaching forward, Isaac offered his hand. "Deal?"

Killian hesitated, before reluctantly shaking the man's hand.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Falling out of the dream from Isaac's push was like going from a pillow bed to a vat of tar. The Darkness attacked him instantaneously, the feeling of it like a great ripping and writhing mass as it reclaimed every inch of him that had reprieve. Its voice was shrill, sensations overwhelming all at once, its attempts to force him to stop his endeavors disarming.

TAKE THE SHARD! TAKE IT, TAKE IT, TAKE IT NOW! TAKE IT OR ELSE - TAKE IT AND FREE US, FREE US SO WE MAY HAVE OUR LIFE BACK IN THE SHADOWS

It went on, never ending. The voice could scream for as long as it needed. Killian did not find he cared.

Emma lay still, hands folded at the waist, a satin wrapped bouquet wilting against her bosom. His attention elsewhere, the Darkness shrieked in fury. Killian let it, let it begin breaking him again, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers cracked as he pulled them away, but he ignored them. Laying on his cot next to her, he laughed quietly to himself, the Darkness trying desperately to keep him in its clutches without success.

DON’T YOU DARE! COWARD!

Its snarling howls fell away, the falling sensation abating as he landed in a soft seat while a balmy late spring day appeared out a large open window next to him. Flower petals fell over a courtyard, the garden spectacular in its beauty. The walls were high on the other side, huge windows allowing a view from multiple stories of what could be nothing but the palace.

Orchestral music played somewhere nearby, the polished floors gleaming in the light of a chandelier. Standing up from the plush, velvet wingback chair, Killian walked towards the sound of the music. A hand clapped him on the back, the familiarity of it and the warmth spreading through him and bringing back so many memories, and Killian readied himself as he turned.

"Younger brother! It's about time you saunter into your own bash." Liam grinned at him. Killian felt a deep pang of loss followed by gratitude for the ability to see his brother again. Emma's doing, no doubt. He quirked an eyebrow swallowing back any sadness with a smirk, and let himself have the moment.

"Do my ears deceive me, or does my ancient and senile brother actually refer to me correctly as younger?" he quipped. A servant brought by a drink assortment, Liam taking a tumbler while Killian waved the man away.

"Don't despair, Killian. This courtesy lasts only for tonight - nothing about your award ceremony can be little, especially when it coincides with a chance to mingle with your pick of lovely women vying for your attention." Liam sipped his drink, walking in the direction of the music, Killian walking next to him. His brother was in full regalia which explained his own, but he couldn't place what ceremony they could be at together at the palace. In his time in the Navy, Killian had only seen the old grounds, not the always growing and subtly shifting palace Emma knew. It had been in construction secretly during war time, Liam only seeing the beginnings of it and construction concepts.

"Brother," Liam said sternly, and Killian fell from his thoughts.

"Hm, yes?"

"I said," Liam sighed, rolling his eyes. "Are there any in particular that you have a fancy for? I've heard rumors, but they cannot possibly be correct."

"I, well..." Killian’s face heated, thinking of the princess. The thought occurred to him that Milah may be in this dream too if he wasn't careful. He licked his lips, but Liam interrupted, giving his arm a squeeze.

"I know it's been difficult with what happened to Milah, but if you truly have moved on, even to as much as being open to someone -" Liam turned him, holding a hand on both of his shoulders as he searched Killian’s face. "I am beyond happy for you, not to mention proud. Especially if she's a higher status than us, which by the way - having to hear news by way of Elsa's gossip is very unbecoming, Lieutenant. I should hope that as a Captain you learn to communicate better."

Killian swallowed hard, his brother's pride and praise so long unheard. Whatever this was could not be a memory, Liam and Milah erased within the same terrible days, and being named Captain was impossible considering his war crimes. This was at one time his dream, in some ways. A promotion at the palace complete with pomp, all while his brother and loved ones looked on. Before Milah the dream had included adoring women in droves, until he danced with a finely dressed lady who was his one and only 'true love' like some boyhood fantasy.

Liam led him to a curtain, drawing it back to reveal an opulent ballroom. Trumpets sounded and dancers stopped twirling, those at tables standing while others simply had their attention drawn to where Liam and him stood.

"Presenting Killian Jones, savior of the realms. Long may he live!" a voice called out, the revelers repeating it with whoops and shouts.

He stepped forward, Liam falling a step behind as they made their way to a table in the front of the room. Elsa hurriedly snuck her elbow through Liam’s as they walked, and Ingrid already stood there with Anna. Another blare of trumpets came louder and longer, and the voice called out again, much more excitedly this time.

"Their Majesties, King David and Queen Snow of the United Realms, and her Highness, Princess Emma. Long may they reign and may their lives be longer still!"

While the revelers repeated the announcer’s words, the King and Queen appeared waving, sitting at the head table with them. Emma was the spitting image of the King in so many ways, his eyes and hair, the soft smile, but her mother's beauty and fine features were very present. The Queen had the same nervous brow furrowing as Emma, looking around at everything as if she was confused. She met his eyes, and her own narrowed. Opening her mouth to say something, she quickly stopped when Emma appeared, looking bashful.

"I forgot my note cards," she whispered under her breath, taking a seat next to him, and her mother sighed exasperated. Emma continued on, talking to her parents. "I'm sorry, I have just been out of sorts today - I can't figure out my up from my -"

Shifting in her full gown, its champagne fabric crinkling, she glanced at him with a polite smile, turning back to her mother to begin again before whipping her head back to look at him with wide eyes.

"Your Highness," Killian nodded, amused. Isaac had promised him recognition and was not to be out done, apparently. Emma retaining her memories of him would make this fantasy an entirely different sort of dream.

Emma stared at him with her mouth slightly parted, unable to speak. Her mother coughed, breaking the spell as Emma nodded in acknowledgement.

"I'm sorry Mother, I was saying I'm out of sorts today. I will introduce the new Captain with the generic toast and if you and Father want to add to his accolades, you can do so," she said calmly, back to ignoring him once again. Killian frowned slightly, but played with the small spoon in the place setting to stave off the wait until she would have a moment. "I think his brother wants to give the majority of the toast anyway, so no large fuss."

"Emma, are you okay then? Nothing else that we should confer about before this? We can push off toasts until after dancing and talk just you and I; you can talk to me about anything. I miss you so much," The Queen took Emma's hand in her own, squeezing it. Her eyes met his and she quickly looked back at Emma. "We can go right now; we don't have to even stay -"

Emma giggled, delighted. "I am not the only one out of sorts today then. When have you been one to tease like this?"

"Emma, I don't know what this is or -"

"I'm fine. I promise you that this is the last time I lose my note cards or smear ink on my dress from trying to get out of memorizing a speech." Emma gave a firm nod, and gave a squeeze back before she removed her hand from her mother's grip. "Let's get this over with so the new Captain can parade his awards around and we are closer to a foot rub."

Winking at the Queen, Emma turned to him.

"Hi!" she said, smiling brightly.

"Princess, I can't say that I haven't waited for this moment since -"

"I suppose that I must have seen you around during the war efforts, and I've heard of your heroics, but I admit that it is my mutual pleasure to meet you, Captain. You seem so familiar to me, but I owe you my life so many times over. I suppose that must be it?" Emma looked up at him, and his heart sank. There was no recognition there but the faintest notion of what they were to each other.

He smiled back, unable to help himself even as a strange sort of sadness ran through him. "I'd save your life as many times as you would let me, Princess."

"Oh, you are a silver tongue. I'm sure you are delighted by the turn out tonight," she snickered.

He shrugged, his smile going sad, the grief of losing this promised chance Isaac had failed to give them finally setting in fully. "I had someone, but they're gone now. The war took her."

Emma stiffened, her smile wiped clean away. "I'm so sorry. If I had known, I would have never -"

"It's fine love. I've been fortunate enough to find someone else who is so far more remarkable than anyone I dare to guess is also present with us. She doesn't remember me, which is a shame. I will win her heart again without fail and without trickery, as I have in the past. Hopefully, I'll remind her of everything that has come to pass between us." Reaching for her hand, she watched entranced as he lifted it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. The moment he touched them to the soft skin, she shivered, and something lit in the full pools of jade her pupils had become.

"After all," he whispered, smoothing over where he had kissed with his thumb as he lowered her hand. "I will always find her."

Emma looked stunned, her breathing slightly ragged as she tried to suck in a hiss of air in her tightly threaded gown. Turning to her mother who was talking with her father in a tense discussion of some sort, she choked out a whisper.

"Mom, Mother, I - you're right. Let's do the toasts after dancing and dinner, with dessert. It's unconventional, yes, but I need - I need a moment." Her mother looked alarmed, but Emma raised a finger. "I'm fine. Nothing is wrong, no code words dropped. I just - it's very warm in here isn't it? I think dancing will give me some air, or I can slip outside. I just need more time to compose myself."

"Alright, but Emma?" The Queen's tone was nothing but concern, her eyes no longer flicking to look at him, but darting to the corner of her eye like a Bogey-Man lay behind her. "If any of this feels wrong, strange, or just off, tell me. Do you understand?"

Emma nodded. The Queen stood, grabbing the King's arm and dragging him upwards. He shot Killian a look that was unmistakably displeased, but brushed it off almost immediately in a display of grateful hosting.

"Guests of honor, toasts will be held at dessert to lend more time to celebration. Please dance, and dinner will be served as soon as the time arises," the Queen announced, clapping her hands. The lights of the ballroom began to twinkle as she took to the dance floor with the King. The orchestra played louder once more, a slow and haunting tune that swelled beautifully as they spun.

"Princess?" he asked, leaning over far closer than he should. She smelled so lovely, the urge to kiss the juncture of her neck and shoulder where it peeked out from under the pleated neckline making him grit his teeth.

She stammered out something that wasn't quite a word, color creeping onto her cheeks. Taking a breath while he chuckled, she managed another try. "Yes? Yes, what is it that you need -"

"I would like to ask you for this dance, or several. I have no need , except to admit to you that I ask because you are beautiful beyond measure tonight." He stood, offering his hand. Although her face heated further and she gaped at him in shock, she took it quickly in her own without hesitation.

Her hand fit perfectly in his own as he remembered, and like so many times before he spun her into a waltz. It was hard to keep from pulling her too close the way he was accustomed too, already too informal and too forward here as it were. The court had so many risks, what he wouldn't give to be back in the village, the forest, the street fair, the tavern, so many lives layered together, or to have her remember -

"You dance like a magician," Emma said in wonder. More were joining them on the dance floor, but Emma swept them away in her radiance. She seemed to shimmer as if she was something imagined, even as he was sure she was real and so much more importantly, her. His Emma.

"Oh?" he grinned, twirling her. She laughed brightly at what here would be considered absurdity, a frivolous move that did not belong in dancing. If it was unbecoming, neither cared. "Do I now, princess? Pray tell?"

"You haven't stepped on my feet once, Captain. You anticipate my every move as if you are a seer. Even when you did whatever that spin was, I feel as though I'm floating on air in your lead. I have not danced like this in hundreds, probably thousands of dance partners, and rarely do I give such praise." Emma subtly shifted, moving her body slightly closer to his own. He hummed, leaning in slightly.

“Much better, with a partner who knows what they're doing,” Killian whispered into her ear, and she beamed up at him.

"I don't know what it is about you, but you're so familiar, like I know you. Like I should know you, and I feel like I'm drowning just by being in your presence. I… I've never known anything like this, Lieu - I mean Captain, sorry." They stopped, no longer spinning. They had ended up near the curtains where he had entered, sequestered away from the majority of prying eyes. Pressing her hands to his chest she traced a pattern in the heavy fabric. "You mean something to me in a way that hurts me to be away from you. Like knowing you're here makes me feel so safe, so cared for. Something is there, a deeper emotion; I just can't grasp it."

"Princess, I should -" he started, but Emma swayed towards him, closer still.

"Maybe we should stop dancing, I'm a bit dizzy…" Emma whispered, looking up at him with reverence.

Killian touched her face gently, bringing his forehead against her own. "We've stopped, darling."

"Oh. So we have." Her lips brushed against his palm, one of her hands reaching up to play with the hair on his neck, tugging slightly at the tie of his queue. "This feeling, this familiarity as if I've been through a hundred lives with you finding me…?"

"Yes?" he whispered, her fingers pulling him to her, bodies pressed tightly together even against her golden gown and his uniform.

Emma's touch moved around his neck to his jaw, her thumb's soft pad stroking the scar of his cheek. "Is it lo-"

"Lieute - Capt - Whatever you are !" the king hissed as he clapped a hand roughly on Killian’s shoulder, a grin on his face that was dangerous, his eyes wild. "A word, if you will."

"Daddy, please -" Emma started as the King pushed between them.

Her father's eyes flashed darkly, and Emma stepped back in surprise. The king composed himself, failing to cover his curled lips. "Emma, stay there and dance with someone else, but not like… Whatever the hell this was."

"I regret this interruption too, but I am nothing if not gracious, except dashingly handsome." Emma giggled at his humor, her father's glare at her causing her to cough instead, while Killian brushed off the King’s hand. He bowed before Emma, kissing her hand as her face flushed with red. "I await my next dance with you Princess, with hope that you will not suffer through thousands more partners before I return."

She laughed prettily, and curtsied. The King caught his shoulder as he rose, pulling him to stand and gripping his elbow like he meant to break it. Dragging him across the ballroom floor, only a few onlookers seemed to notice as everyone else danced. The Queen stood up, taking a few steps from her seat, Ingrid and Anna rising as well. Liam and Elsa were waltzing, and Killian tried to memorize the happiness on their faces. A stampede of wild horses could not distract them from gazing at each other, laughing as they turned. The King pulled him into the hallway briskly, passersby gasping and bowing as Killian was dragged past.

"Oi, er, your grace -"

"Shut up. Just shut up," the King gritted out, before opening a door and throwing Killian inside.

He'd been brought to a study, or small library he guessed, the walls paneled and bookshelves built into the rich wood. Several busts sat on shelves or rested on pillars, a globe and realm switcher sat opposite each other on either set of a large desk that was covered in scrolls. There were no windows, but the realm switcher emitted a light golden glow along with a few spread out wisp filled lamps. The King pushed past him, knocking him hard on the shoulder.

Killian examined his options, choosing to apologize and appeal to the status of the crown instead of battering the obstinate man with a chair and enjoying his time with Emma. He felt she might approve of one method over the other, even without bias involved.

"Your Majesty, I did not mean to offend, I had heard how lovely your daughter was -"

"Come off it then, Jones. Do you think even your status as Captain can buy access to the throne?" The King turned slightly to sneer, pushing around scrolls on the desk. "We aren't Arendelle, we are the crown. There are standards here, not sheer desperation; especially with the knowledge that your kingdom is doomed, causing a royal to settle for a Navy sea dog."

"Do you mean… Liam and Elsa?" The King’s eyes flicked up, and he shrugged. Killian took a steadying breath, now regretting his choice in options. "I assure you, sire, that pairing is very much a fine match from any purview except for yours. Her family and I were overjoyed -"

"Yes, because your title has been lost under your drunken coward of a father's yellow streak. Do you think I want that attached to our family?" He pointed a finger, the nail long. "You didn’t want it attached to you and your brother enough to enscript to the war as fast as you could."

"My father abandoned our house to my brother, who has worked tirelessly to make sure that the people of the Blackwater and surrounding areas are safe." Killian balled his fists, his patience thinning further. Emma had mentioned her father was stubborn and overwhelming when it came to anyone courting her, but this seemed off for one of her dreams.

"You look and act just like him, you know." the King chuckled with malice. He drummed on the desk "That's my major reservation. When I saw my daughter with you all I could think is, 'There goes another coward. When will he abandon her, and break Emma's heart?'"

Killian stared at the King, examining him closely. He seemed to blur and shimmer slightly, even after Killian blinked. In every other dream, the pattern had been the same: They would not separate if it was pleasant, as long as they had met, unless someone stepped in. Someone who had long fingernails, who spoke in words meant to bleed someone dry, and who did not use her own face.

"You are not Emma's father, are you?"

"So perceptive, my little hero. Pup caught the scent, and followed my trail. It's so much easier to convince you of being not worthy of her when there's that glorious Darkness rattling around in your head." The King leered at him, advancing with a swish of his hips, a black streak appearing in his hair.

"Cruella." He nodded, stepping backwards to pick up a previously spotted fireplace poker. Like most items in the realms, it was made of a hard obsidian instead of iron, and would crack easily after a few hard blows. He was at a great disadvantage, let alone being on her preferred playing field of the dreamscape.

Dramatically gesturing to the empty room, Cruella's laugh ran out of the King’s mouth.

"Hello puppy. Fancy meeting you here." The smirk settling on the King’s face was suddenly much redder, and unmistakably not his. "I got a whiff of that hairbrained scheme you, Lilly, and Isaac cooked up to stop me, and thought I might drop in. Good thing I did too, now I can see how tight I have to make your leash to keep you from taking Emma away from me."

"What did you do to her? She doesn't remember me at all!" Killian lunged, the King seeming to shimmer as the woman giggled.

He appeared next to Killian, patting his cheek, before reappearing in a wooden chair behind the desk, puffing on a long cigarette and throwing the poker aside. Killian dropped the ash she had left in his palm with disgust, now defenseless.

"Well puppy, you kept me from what I wanted, which is to say… your sweet little puppy love, Emma." She giggled again, green smoke coming from the King's nostrils. "You make her remember that there's something better than our perfect paradise for you two. You made her feel things other than happiness and sweet dreams, making us both suffer. She barely gave me any magic after trying to keep you from your fears. I've been trying to plague you with nightmare after nightmare, but you keep coming back to ruin her happy dreams by making her accommodate you. Milah for example, or your brother Liam, or Elsa, or your sweet mother Alice - Every time I try to torture them, kill them, crush them in ways to destroy you, she saves you from their torment. Emma deserves happiness, isn't that what you told poor Isaac?"

"This isn't happiness you bloody leeching witch - "

"Oh, but it is - when you aren't here to ruin it. So when you and Isaac chatted, I placed a curse of my own on poor sleeping Emma." She grinned, eyes narrowing at him. "Should anyone try to rescue her, the only way out will be through her worst nightmares, and I will torture her every step of the way until she goes mad at the sight of you. You're a prominent feature of her fears, so trust me, it will be easy. All I have to do if you keep meddling is let the curse run its course, nightmare after nightmare until she never wakes again and begs for happy thoughts."

"You wouldn't. You need her magic -"

"Fun little tiddy bit, love." Cruella let the ash of her cigarette rain on the desk. " Your fear made Emma's magic weaker, because she expended so much to keep you comfortable. But her fear is delicious, and so much easier to take. When she was scared for you, it blew me away. True nightmares only, of course. Absolutely mouth watering. When you are in a nightmare she is in, her fear is like finest champagne."

"You can't have her." Killian raised his voice, and she cackled harder.

"Oh but I will. Every second you are in her dreams will be an endless loop of nightmares, and I'll take every bit of her magic, until she withers into a husk, angry, afraid and alone." Her smile was her own, under the king's eyes. She stood, and was suddenly trailing a finger down his shoulder at his side. "Or you could leave. I could even try and give you that shard…"

"Damn the shard," He lunged, and she was back at the desk, giggling while taking a long pull of her cigarette. "I won't stop until Emma is free of this. Emma has Isaac's dream to go through, and then your buggering curse. I will be here for her, and I will get her out of here. She will wake up."

"She will never love you. She won't even remember this, and you, you monstrosity, you will never be able to love her." Cruella sneered through David's face, nails scratching the table.

Killian laughed, and the king's face turned to fury. "It doesn't matter. The future isn't something to be afraid of if I love her right now - and I do." The confirmation of this fact took him by surprise, but it was irrefutable. Warmth spread through him, then a fierce heat that furthered his determination. "Regardless of everything, I love her at this moment. Regardless of everything, this is who I am under the Darkness, trying to protect her, trying to break through against all odds. "

"You absolutely horrid little beast -"

The door creaked, and Cruella's form of David snapped back into place, nothing but the small red choker indicating the deception. Queen Snow entered the room, and Killian bowed.

"Ah, my love, this is poor timing I'm afraid." The king's voice was tinged with anger. He pointed at Killian. "This man is an imposter and a Goblin spy, we'll need to call the guard -"

"Oh, my!" Snow picked up a heavy bust, ready to throw it at him. Killian flinched slightly, braced for the impact. "Is Emma safe?"

"The princess should be -" Cruella turned towards the Queen in the king's form, just as she took both hands to lifted the bust above her head making to throw the heavy marble. Killian prepared himself, but instead watched as she brought it down on her husband's skull with a sickening crack. Cruella crumpled, her true form revealed as she began to fade away.

Killian blinked as Snow panted, wiping dust from her hands.

"Your Majesty, I - Um -"

Snow drew a sword, stalking towards him with fury in her eyes like flame, so much like Emma's, the blade pressed against his neck. She spoke lowly, the edge there sharper than her sword.

"That is not and was not my husband, Captain Liam has been dead for years, you are most definitely not a lieutenant, and this, this is a sleeping curse. My Daughter's sleeping curse. So start talking, Dark One. And don't you dare skip anything."

#Courtorderedcake #15th #February #2020 #February 15th 2020 #Hallow #CSSNS #CS AU #CS FF #Captain Swan

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