#ouat 5a missing moment ff

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Operation Future”

This week’s little re-run is a bit more Captain Cobra than CS, in all honesty - though the CS love and devotion is certainly still present. I originally wrote it just after 5x08, desperately needing some fluff to make up for the painful reveal we had just gotten. I thought this was really more of a canon compliant missing moment fic, but as I went back to try to find scenes to make the art, I realized I had imagined more of this than I thought. In my mind, it still seems like a missing moment we just didn’t get to see though, rather than truly canon divergent. At any rate, I hope you enjoy if you give it a read (or read it again.)

Summary: (5x08 really gutted me for a bit, and now I have to write some fluff in order to recover and survive the wait for 5x10. Luckily, once I calmed down a little, I saw that there were some lovely sweet moments in the episode too, and I thought I might explore them further. This one is courtesy of Killian and Henry and their very own secret code name operation. Hope you enjoy! Obviously, I still don’t own them – if I did, I would play with them much more nicely! ;)

Also available on AO3 and ff.net, as part of the one shot collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts”

by: @snowbellewells 

When Emma’s lad had first come to him whilst they idled in Camelot wondering what to do and how to proceed, Killian had arched an eloquently skeptical brow – not sure why Henry would possibly want his opinion, want to include him in this way, and imagining Emma’s indignation at their plotting a major life decision for her in such a manner. However, the genuine hope in the young man’s eyes, the tone of voice that tried so hard to sound firm and sure while under the surface beseeching the pirate for help and support in continuing to believe, and the enthusiasm when Killian listened and showed interest, quickly led the pirate to acquiesce and become Henry’s partner in his newest secret operation.

And what a worthy mission it was. Though the Captain had known this about the boy already, the joyously enacted scheme drove the fact home to him even more forcefully. His love was not the only one stubbornly invested in the happy endings of everyone she cared for – her son was exactly the same. Heroism ran in Henry’s blood as surely as the sea flowed through Killian’s own veins, and the boy was pure love for all whom he cared about, without the extra protective shell of cultivated cynicism and walls Emma had been forced to develop so early in life. Henry had always had a home, been loved (even if Her Majesty Regina had not always expressed that love well) and known that he was wanted. The boy’s belief in Right and Good was a powerful thing, not allowing him to give up nor admit defeat when others might.

Thrusting the newspaper from Storybrooke into Killian’s line of sight, Henry had plowed forward with his explanation, growing more and more enthused as he could see the man warming to his vision. “Okay, so these three are the ones I like best, but give them all a look and see what you think…” he offered as he pointed to the classified section where several homes on the market were displayed. Even as his excitement had him near to bursting and he bounced on his toes slightly while Killian took the paper and began to peruse the choices with genuine interest, Henry still spoke quietly and kept a furtive eye on the others in Granny’s to ensure that their plans were not overheard.

Somehow, it wasn’t until he really studied the homes Henry had indicated that Killian felt this gesture’s importance hit him right in the chest. Tears he refused to let fall stung mightily in the corners of his eyes as the Captain realized quickly that all of the lad’s choices were near the docks and the Jolly, along with boasting lovely views of the water. True, Henry was looking for something good his mother could hang onto, something lovely – a hard-earned reward – to anticipate as she fought for her very soul, but he was also telling Killian that he wanted his mother’s boyfriend to be there with them for the long haul, that he was a part of their little family now, and that Killian had his acceptance and love; it was abundantly clear in the way the lad had chosen only homes that a sailor couldn’t help but love.

Glancing back up and holding earnest, eager brown eyes with his own intense blue gaze, Killian hoped desperately that he could express just how much this gift meant to him. The emotion swelled, tightening in his chest, and where words usually flowed from him eloquently, all he seemed able to rasp out in that moment was, “These are fine abodes, m’boy. Right worthy choices, to be sure.” He licked his lips, striving to continue, to say thank you, to let Emma’s lad know how much he truly cared for him in his own right, as well as for Emma’s sake, but all he could do was nod meaningfully to this extraordinary and astute young man, hoping it would convey his agreement, approval, and a growing sense of paternal love – all the things he was unable to force from his throat aloud just yet.

He could see though, as enthusiasm lit Henry’s gaze and the young Author gave him a determined nod in return – as if setting their course – that he should never have doubted the Truest Believer. Whether he had been able to voice all he felt or not, it would appear that he and Emma’s son also understood each other.

“Well now, Master Mills,” he gave Henry a playful, secretive smile, keeping his voice soft, but allowing a degree of joviality as well, “if we are in accord, perhaps we should shake on it and seal the deal? A gentlemen’s agreement of sorts?”

Henry literally beamed back at him, extending a hand to take Killian’s inconspicuously proffered right and finalize their arrangement – their gift for the mother and savior they both loved. “Aye, aye, Captain,” he said with equal good humor.

Killian circled the house he liked best, jotting down a tentative note of “This one?” beside it, then handed the classifieds back to Henry, who tucked the paper into his tunic for safekeeping. The lad had begun to back away, looking the tiniest bit awkward and unsure for the first time, when Killian couldn’t resist speaking once more to offer his appreciation and approval, even if it was not truly his place. “This is a stellar notion, Lad,” he murmured, hoping to show his fervent sincerity in even a quiet tone. “I do believe your mum will be quite happy with it.”

Henry’s head dipped for a moment, bashful, and then, in a quick shuffle, so brief Killian almost thought he was imagining it even as it happened, the teen jerked forward, hugged him tightly, and then fell back and moved away before the man could even respond. Watching Henry’s retreat as he neared his grandpa, and Charming turned to clap him on the shoulder in greeting and welcome him into the little circle he had formed with his wife and Henry’s infant uncle to enjoy the repast Granny had made, Killian felt warmed from the inside and a smile lingered on his face. He was more strengthened for the struggle than ever, well aware that he was not alone in battling for Emma’s happiness, and as her two greatest loves united, they could not fail.

~~~00~~~00~~~00~~~

Four weeks later…

Henry stands on the front walk, looking up at the façade of the two story house he and Killian had picked as their favorite back in Camelot. Dew still glitters on the grass in the yard, and he huddles into the heavy wool of his coat against the chill of the cold, grey, early morning. The house is every bit as perfect as it had looked in that newspaper ad, and his mom does live here, but somehow things are still all wrong, and nothing has turned out the way he had hoped.

Not only is Emma still the Dark One, but something is wrong with Killian too. At first, Henry had attributed it to the fact that they were back home with no memories of their time in the other realm, and the frustration he knew the Captain must feel at thinking he had failed his love and seeing her so cold and distant, fully embracing the entity he had fought to destroy for hundreds of years. Henry had felt pretty guilty himself, though Emma had assured him that he was not one of those who had failed her, and he knows that his partner in crime, the man he thinks of as a stepdad, must be hurting even more.

The young man has tried to seek the Captain out, to listen, or to ask for sailing lessons as a distraction – even to enlist the man in a new mission to help his mom together. However, it seems that lately Killian is avoiding his company, keeping his distance for no reason that makes any sense to Henry. When they are in close proximity, as when they had used the Crimson Crown to summon Merlin, Killian is as encouraging and loyal as ever, assuring Henry he has faith in him, but otherwise there is a distance that Henry doesn’t like. One that had not been there before. Even without all his memories, the boy is nearly certain of it.

Clutching the old ad in his hands, Henry looks down at the picture of the house now standing before him, and Killian’s flowing script indicating it as their choice. Henry doesn’t really understand what has happened. He doesn’t know what he needs to do – yet. But he will not be deterred. His mom deserves her Happy Ending. Just as she had been so determined to provide for everyone else, Henry is going to see that she receives no less. He knows Killian needs to be here in this house with them. He needs these two people – his parents, he hopes, if they can have two seconds of peace all together to enjoy it – to be back to themselves and in his life once more.

Sighing, he admits to himself that hope seems lost right now, but he won’t give up on Operation Light Swan, the joyous reunion he and Killian had planned, nor on Killian and Emma themselves. He loves them. They’re family. And in his circle at least, family always finds each other. This house is meant to be the happy home of their dreams, not a cold, lonely mausoleum where Emma can hide with her darkness and heartbreak. He’s the Author and the Truest Believer, and even if it is his mission alone now, he will find a way.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @stahlop @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @therooksshiningknight @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @thislassishooked @wefoundloveunderthelight @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @winterbaby89 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @cosette141 @xarandomdreamx @justanother-unluckysoul @xsajx @anmylica @motherkatereloyshipper @zaharadessert @nachocheese-itsmycheese @booksteaandtoomuchtv​ @kazoosandfannypacks​

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Prestidigitorium!”

When I originally wrote this little one shot after Season 5′s premiere episode (5x01), I remember being both excited and anxious for what was to come for Emma and those who love her most. I couldn’t help wanting to write a bit of sweet fluff for them, in the midst of all the angst that I’m now sure is on the way. (Boy, we couldn’t have even guessed at how angsty Season 5 would really get, could we?) I loved that little Emma in the flashback was seeing The Sword in the Stone, and the title of this is from that movie’s song Merlin sings while showing Wart how to pack magically.

Also available on A03 or ff.net (As part of my One Shot Collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts) if you prefer to read on one of those platforms.

Summary:  Canon Divergent 5a Missing Moment /// Sometime in what I hope is the near future, a simple family movie night after Emma has defeated the Darkness…

The little yellow cottage by the water seems lit from within on this chilly autumn evening as night begins to fall over Storybrooke, Maine. Though it hasn’t been home for long, Emma Swan’s first place of her own – that isn’t a tiny apartment in some huge, bustling city – is already exactly the cozy sanctuary she envisioned. It hasn’t been more than a couple of weeks since she moved her things in, settled into the space, and she is only now starting to feel that she really will be alright. She will be able to stay here in this little town, and she won’t have to fear hurting the ones she loves, because the darkness is finally, completely gone from inside her.

Most of that credit goes to her two True Loves seated right in front of her, part of the gathering in her little home tonight. Her sexy and sweetly devoted Captain, and her precious son who never stopped believing in her, are the ones who kept her fighting even when her battle against the Dark One curse began to feel hopeless – when she might have otherwise lay down in defeat and been subsumed by the horrific and overwhelming power that had coursed through her veins, aching to take her over.

Tonight is not about that though, even if she cannot help ruffling Henry’s hair with such an overflow of affection that it makes momentary tears well in her eyes as she pauses by the back of the sofa where he sits with little Roland Hood, waiting for everyone else to settle in with them to begin movie night. Killian is sitting quietly on Roland’s other side, clearly trying to appear extra calm and still, Emma can tell, because of the little boy in their care. Finally feeling like herself again, Emma had offered to babysit so Roland could join their little party and Regina and Robin could have a much-needed night alone to truly reconnect, talk, and heal. It made her feel even more accepted and restored to normal when Regina didn’t hesitate to accept her offer at all. Still, Roland hasn’t spent much time with any of them except Henry, and Emma finds it insanely adorable how hard her former pirate boyfriend is trying not to spook the child, to the point of keeping his hook shielded from view at his other side. As if sensing her thought, Killian tilts his head up against the back of the couch to look at her hovering over his shoulder.

“You’re thinking quite loudly, Swan,” he quips playfully, though she sees the unasked question in his eyes behind the jest. After all they have been through recently, he is especially attuned not to let her thoughts veer back toward guilt and fear over where she has been or what she has done, not if he can help it.

Emma bends down to kiss his forehead affectionately, happy to bestow any bit of encouragement or sweetness on him after the lengths he went to in order to bring her back and what he endured when she was not fully herself. She doesn’t want to dwell on those memories now, and so she keeps the kiss brief and innocent, standing again swiftly and shaking her head clear of the heavier thoughts. Tonight is meant to be happy – a celebration – and she intends to keep it so.

“How’s the popcorn coming in there?” she calls toward the kitchen where her dad is trying to work the microwave and prepare their snack, while keeping her little brother occupied as well.

“Yes, Dave, need a hand?” Killian quips, the old joke of his only having one to spare familiar and accepted between them.

“Everyone just needs to hold their horses a minute!” David admonishes, no real scold in his eyes though as he strides into the room, one arm holding little Neal balanced on his hip, while carrying two huge bowls of mouth-wateringly scented buttered popcorn, one in each hand. “I’ve got it under control.”

Henry jumps up quickly to take one of the bowls from his grandpa and allow the man a free hand. David settles into the recliner with his young son, digging into the popcorn for his own handful and his eyes widening in pleased delight. “Wow! This is incredible!”

Henry laughs aloud, and Emma shoots her father a knowing look from around the people sitting between them. “See? Didn’t I tell you so?” She nods with playful gratification. “You can’t have a great movie night without buttered popcorn.”

“One point to the modern world,” David acknowledges with a conciliatory nod.

Killian reaches over to the bowl, putting his own handful of the hot, salty treat in his mouth. His eyes widen comically as well, and he nods vigorously in agreement. “Oh, aye, this is something the Enchanted Forest should truly be sorry they are lacking!”

Everybody crams into the cozy, but admittedly small, living room of Emma’s waterfront cottage as Henry pushes play on the DVD player and the movie begins. He’s been going through the Disney classics with little Roland, who is still wide-eyed and amazed by so much in the modern world, but clearly adores both the real world magic of animation and a catchy song as much as any other child. The selection for tonight is The Sword in the Stone, and though both Killian and her father had started to protest, afraid their recent adventures and trials – and how different Arthur, Merlin, and Camelot itself had proven to be from the legend they had known – might be upsetting or painful for Emma and all of them, Emma herself had urged them to let the boys pick. She could see the appeal in comparing the made-up story to a place they had just been able to experience for themselves.

What she didn’t say aloud was that the real ache in her chest came not from remembering Arthur’s machinations and veiled treachery or the danger they had all faced, but from the memories of this movie being the first one she had ever seen in a theater, how she’d had to sit all alone with no one to buy her snacks, laugh along with her, or be sure she was enjoying herself. She remembered all too well having to walk past the popcorn in the theater lobby with no money of her own, and the way she had so easily filched a candy bar from that other theatergoer without thinking twice. Perhaps the Darkness had always been in there with her light, long before she could have possibly understood…

As the cartoon reached the spot where Wart wonders into Merlin’s cottage and the bearded old wizard is magically packing his entire home into a single bag with his “Higitus Figitus” song, Emma can’t help curling in a little closer to Killian from where she has already wedged herself onto the couch between him and the sofa’s arm, leaning her head sadly on his shoulder.

“Alright there, Lass?” he whispers, breath warm and soft on her forehead so as not to disturb their younger viewers.

“Fine,” she answers shortly, knowing she’ll tell him later about how that scene had only served to remind her of all the times she had been packed back up from a foster home and sent away again. For now she only wants to snuggle up to his warmth and be glad he is still here with her, despite what she had almost become.

However, when she gets up later to check on popcorn and drink refills, she simply has to bring the two boys candy bars when she returns, and somehow with their smiles and excited thanks, and the arm of her pirate wrapped around her once again, the void from so many years ago is finally filled.

Tagging: @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @xarandomdreamx @sotangledupinit @scientificapricot @winterbaby89 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @cosette141 @anmylica @xsajx @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @stahlop @wefoundloveunderthelight @motherkatereloyshipper​ @kday426​ @gingerchangeling​ @gingerpolyglot​ @tomeandflickcorner​ @caught-in-the-filter @ineffablecolors @nachocheese-itsmycheese @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl

[snowbellewells]

Self-Promo Sunday: “And by a Sleep, We Hope to End the Heartache”

*** Sorry I’m late with the Sunday re-run this week! I’ve had the cover art made and this story picked out, but just haven’t been able to get it posted past couple of weeks. Anyway, this story was originally written for the second edition of the @csstorybook​ on Tumblr – go check that out if you haven’t, it’s amazing!!  My episode for that project was 5x04 “Broken Kingdom” and I wanted to imagine how Killian might have tried to help comfort a sleepless Emma as she fought the darkness within.  Hope you enjoy!  I’d love – as always – to hear what you think!

This can also be found as a chapter in my one-shots collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts” on AO3 or on ff.net...

             “Lass…Emma… Love, please, you have to stop…” his quiet voice, vibrating with emotion despite its soothing timbre, still somehow managed to slice through the paranoia, the swirling images, and yammering voices roiling inside her skull.  It was the one thing, other than her son’s hopeful, trusting face, which had managed to do so since she had risen from the ominous hatch in the Camelot forest, alone, confused, and the newest Dark One.  Her stride faltered at his plea, her step finally pausing before the window of the castle suite they had been given by Arthur for their accommodation.

             Looking over her shoulder to find his fraught gaze, Emma turned slightly toward the pirate, a glance half exasperation and half desperate need on her conflicted face.  “What do you want from me, Killian?” she whispered tiredly, her shoulders slumping with a weary defeat he had rarely seen from her.  He had no way of knowing that Emma desired nothing so much as to cross the large open chamber and collapse into his arms, as she had a week ago when they’d first found her in the stone circle about to crush Merida’s heart.  His embrace tight around her, his heart beating frantically just under her palm, those few moments had been the only time the riot inside her head had seemed to cease – when she could think clearly, as only herself.  She needed that relief again, and yet she feared letting down her guard, even for a moment’s comfort.  She was barely keeping all the violent, persuasive urges twining through her consciousness at bay, barely keeping all the raw power tingling under her skin from breaking free.  She could not allow herself the peace of Killian’s embrace; rest might let the horrors loose upon them all. 

             Her pirate watched her knowingly, his eyes gentle, yet seeing and understanding too much as his discerning gaze studied her from across the room.  Those blue pools of his stare took in the way she vibrated slightly, no matter how she tried to hold still.  He saw the tangled, disheveled fall of her hair – usually more a silky sheet of gold – the strange, rough grey duster she wore, still trailing dirt and dried leaves from the forest floor behind her.  This was his Swan before him yet, but she was in distress and guarded once more, in a way she had finally begun to put in her past – and he experienced a disorienting, long rush of despair at how to help her.  He only knew for certain that he must find a way.

             “Come here, Lass,” he finally murmured, half a directive and half an appeal, as he held out his hand to her from where he sat at the edge of the room’s large canopy bed. 

             “Why?” she fired back nervously.  “I’m the Dark One now.  I don’t sleep, remember?”

             The unhinged tone in her voice, as well as the unvarnished bitterness, worried him more than he cared to admit.  Killian hesitated, biting his lip and considering his next words carefully.  His pause only seemed to agitate her further.  Why indeed?  And yet, he could not help but want her near, wish to gather her to his side, run the curve of his hook down her spine, and attempt to soothe her, bring her some measure of comfort, however ineffectual it might prove in the end.

             Heaving a deep sigh, Killian forced his voice to remain slow and even, despite his frustration and his utter anger at the situation his Love had been cast into.  Crooking his fingers in invitation, beckoning her forward while keeping his hand extended to her palm up, he raised an eyebrow slightly in challenge.  “Nor am I trying to force you to, Emma. I have not forgotten what you are battling, but can I not try to aid you in the fight?  Can I not hold the woman I love for a few moments?”

             Her lower lip trembled in response, before she pressed her mouth tightly closed, considering his offer, the longing clear on her face, until she let her swirling green eyes meet his at last.  “Y-you still…you still see me?” she finally whispered, her voice desperately fearful, quivering at the end with hope.

             There was no need for flowery words, only to hold her gaze, give a decided, affirmative nod and answer, “Aye.”

             At that single word, Emma took one hesitant, faltering step toward him, then another, until he could clasp her hand in his questing fingers and pull her against him, sitting at the edge of the rich, overlarge bed.  Mumbling quiet nonsense, Killian tucked Emma under his chin, cradling the back of her head in his palm and rocking them gently from side to side.  “Shh, Love, shh… it’s going to be alright,” he crooned, injecting steadfast certainty he wished he truly felt into his tone.

             Emma’s voice was broken and child-like as she spoke, her words muffled slightly by the leather of his sleeve.  “How can it be?” she asked plaintively.  There was something achingly human about her now, when before she had seemed so steely and impervious – untouchable as she stood at the window like a sentry, proud and strong, but cold and hard as well, looking out over the courtyard into the dark night.  The power within her was a distancing shield, a barrier higher and more impenetrable than her emotional walls had ever been.  Pulling back again briefly to look into the limitless eyes of this man who had pulled her back from the brink, her face was flushed and wet with silently shed tears, as real and vulnerable as he had ever seen her.  “I’m hanging by a thread, Killian.  There’s so much pressing inside, trying to escape, and the voices, the Dark Ones before me, they’re constantly whispering, watching, tempting me and trying to take over.  If I let my guard slip, if they get loose…  I’m terrified of what might happen, what I might do… who I might hurt…” The last words dropped to the barest whisper, her eyes falling to their intertwined fingers anxiously, unable to see the disgust and disapproval that must surely be on the face that had always before been nothing short of adoring.

             However, what she found when she looked up was far from devastating – so tender it made her very pulse still, bringing her up short and blinking in disbelief.  “That will never happen, Emma.  I know it with every fiber of my being, as surely as I know the way around my ship and as clearly as the navigator’s course is marked by the stars in the sky. You are stronger than that demon, Love.  Though I hate that you must fight so bitterly, I have no doubt that you will win.”

             “Thank you for believing in me, Killian,” she bit her lip, the lower one caught by her teeth, and she continued to play with their fingers, again avoiding his eyes to stare at their joined hands.  “But I can’t help worrying.  You can’t know that for sure!  When you found me yesterday evening, trying to take the dagger from Regina’s hiding place, I nearly took your head off!  It was your quick reflexes that saved you, not any restraint of mine.  I wasn’t in my right mind at all.  Wh- what if you had been killed?  What if you had been Henry?  Or my mom with my little brother?”

             Killian sighed, giving a moment for Emma to feel her words had sunk in, gathering her closer still against his chest and pressing his lips to the soft hair at the crown of her head, humming gently against her skin, hoping to quiet her anxious quaking in his arms.  When he did speak at last, his voice was low, a mere warm undertone at her ear.  “Swan, you have already fought back since then.  Think of our ride this afternoon, and that moment of perfection in the Middlemist field.  The Crocodile’s vile echo, any of the others, they were not present then, were they?  Those insidious voices vanished, aye?  Do not grant them a way back in.”

             Emma nodded weakly, burying her adorably perfect little nose into his thickly furred chest, as if it were the softest pillow she had ever rested against.  Killian had never seen her so fragile – his angel of boots and leather and steely resolve – and though his heart swelled that she would finally turn to him in her need, he hated the burden she bore.  It was too much, too much to ask of a woman who had been so strong and carried such hurt all her life.  A little sigh escaped her rosebud lips, the breathe tickling his collarbone, and Killian felt a rush of tension and wild energy drain from her, her shoulders slumping and her slight form leaning against him more heavily for support.

             “So, do you think you can allow yourself a bit of peace?” he asked, smoothing mussed strands of her hair back over her shoulder affectionately, just as he had done almost since their first meeting.

             Emma only muttered unintelligibly against him at first, before she finally put enough distance between them for him to make out her husky voice.  “I’ll lie down with you and try to rest a bit.  You still need to sleep, Pirate.  But I won’t…it won’t work…I’ve figured that out by now.  It’s just the way it is…”

             “Fair enough then, Swan.  I will make do with what I can get,” he assured her, offering a crooked half-smile and scooting back toward the pillows piled at the head of the bed while still keeping her in his embrace.

             She made no effort to distance herself, moving with him and placing her hand over his heart near her flushed cheek as he settled comfortably on the mattress, looking up at the high, stone ceiling above them.  His one hand began to trace idle patterns on her shoulder and arm as they cuddled together, neither drifting into sleep yet, but perhaps finding a bit of respite all the same.

Eventually, when Killian did find his eyes fluttering closed, he began to speak, softly and almost without thought.  He would not leave her alone in her struggle, and so he began to fill the void with words to keep himself awake and with her.  To his own astonishment, what came to his lips were tales he had long forgotten until that moment, memories from when he was but a lad long ago, which no other person had heard – not even Milah or Bae – until that moment.  And he was grateful then for Emma’s warmth and full attention as he spoke, emotions that had needed vent for centuries were now finally loosed – all the pain and rejection of being left alone and afraid in the dark, a child who had started out on an adventure with his papa and instead been thrown rudderless into the heaving waves of a cruel and treacherous adult world. 

His voice dwelt haltingly on his one light – both his anchor and his compass – his Liam.  Once begun, the story of their stolen boyhood streamed from him, the bits and pieces of the beloved older brother who had been his companion and the only family left to him, in a harsh, dark world of slavery and bleak deprivation.  Liam, who had told him stories when he couldn’t sleep for the suffocating pitch blackness of the hold where they were sometimes locked at night merely for the sake of the other crew’s entertainment or for some imagined mistake; the growing young man who had given half his rations to his gangly younger brother whose belly never felt properly full; who had found a way to splint Killian’s ankle when the sadistic bosun on their master’s ship  had yanked and twisted it to keep Killian from scaling the ropes to the crow’s nest where he could hide from the hulking man’s mistreatment; the protective father figure who had curled around his sibling offering body heat when they both shivered in their bunk, one threadbare blanket between them on winter nights at sea, and his hero who had given Killian the one gleam of hope he had possessed in those endless suffering years. It had all been pent inside him for so long that once he began to speak of Liam, Killian couldn’t bring himself to stop until it was all voiced.  Liam Jones had been taken from the world much too soon, and Killian had not allowed himself to grieve – taken to piracy and retribution, plunging headlong down the ages -  until that moment in Arthur’s kingdom with his silently listening True Love.

His deluge of words did not seem to faze Emma; in fact, she appeared to welcome his outpouring, tracing gentle fingertips over the contours of his face and into his hair, the strokes as soothing as his touch had been to her a short time ago.  Killian didn’t know how long he talked and Emma listened attentively, but his eyelids at last drooped closed in the still watches of the night, his voice slowing and tripping sluggishly, exhaustion and flagging adrenaline towing him under until he could not fight sleep any longer.  He thought he saw Emma’s hand wave over him, but then he was lost in slumber. 

 ~~~88~~~

When he woke with the next day’s dawn, the spot where she had rested beside him was still warm, but Emma was no longer there.

 ~~~88~~~

              They set up a reassuring pattern after that.  Night after night, for as long as they were guests in the castle of Camelot, Killian could at least coax Emma to lie down in the circle of his arms and rest her weary body, if not her mind, in actual sleep.  It was better than nothing, and the pirate strove with all he had to stay awake with her, to keep vigil at her side through the lonely grey hours, when she was most vulnerable and her strength might flag.  Exhausted though they both were, it could have been so much worse, and Killian was grateful for what she did allow him to do.  The first time he had fallen into slumber and woken with her gone, his heart had been in his throat, fearful for where she might have gone and what horror could have gripped her and spurred her from their resting place.  However, when he found her where they all convened for breakfast, a tiny, almost light, smile curved her lips upward at the corners when she spied him.�� Something in her face let him know that she appreciated what he had shared, that he had allowed her to comfort him, and that somehow in granting her that caring gesture, he had made her feel more human and given her back a bit of herself.

             Those sleepless nights in the broken kingdom of legend’s Once and Future King, when Emma curled into his side and he finally felt the shaking ease from the taut muscles she had held under rigid control all that day, more terrified with each passing one that she might slip and do some terrible magic she couldn’t take back, and he sensed more than heard her say that the hissing demons in her mind had ceased their torment for a while – those nights were when their fragile love, born in Storybrooke over moonlit walks, pizza with Netflix, and interrupted coffee dates, took root and grew into something dauntless, lasting, and True.  From those nights he held her until his body gave up and forced him to sleep, or they both stayed awake and saw the morning paint the sky together, from then on Captain Hook and his Swan Savior were joined in a bond which could not be severed by distance or foe, the Darkness, or even Fate.

             Once they left the land of Avalon, there was further pain and trial.  The fatal cut from Excalibur would have been Killian’s death; he had been resigned to it, had lived much longer than he’d ever been meant to and begged Emma to let him go.  But the threat of losing her pirate – her reason to finally open her heart again and let herself fully live – caused Emma to make a tragic mistake.  The temptation that had finally broken her resistance and blackened her soul after all her desperate struggle and restraint, was made in bending the laws of nature to keep him alive.  His angel fell to the need to save him, to not lose one more person who loved her and allowed her to love – to feel – in return.  And when she crumbled, it drug him into the pit along with her.  Harsh words and rage, bitten into blades that wounded and scarred, passed between the True Loves who then shared the worst Darkness the realms had ever known.

             Yet, after the torture, the fire, and one more crippling separation, they found the way back to each other.  Exhausted, battered, but hand-in-hand, after traveling to the very Underworld itself and defying the lord of that domain, in the end even death could not part the Savior and her captain forever.  When they finally stole a moment upon their return – tripping tangled together up the front steps of the house that Killian and Henry had chosen by the dim light of the stars on a chilly May night in Storybrooke, Emma was so sleepy she was nearly punch drunk in her sailor’s grasp as he barely managed to catch her before she fell onto the wooden porch.  Both of them were chuckling lightly, blearily only half awake, but so glad to be alone together and safe, at least for a moment, that anything else could wait.  It had been a long time coming, and the austere hall and front room were somewhat haunted yet by their distorted alters’ presences and the barbs they had thrown, but they bypassed that silent space – it would keep for the morrow – to finally enter the bedroom they had always meant to share.

             The peace which washed over Emma in that moment they fell together, sinking into the thick, cushy comforter, navy blue dotted by tiny white anchors she had chosen with him in mind, and the joy she felt at the sleep-muted delight on his face on first glimpse of them, was the most comfort she had felt since he stole her away on horseback that afternoon in Camelot.  It seemed lifetimes ago now, though she could still feel the pink petals of the Middlemist flower he had handed her in that green haven and the sun slanting down on their faces as they had kissed.

             She realized then that though there was healing still to be done, they had once more reached the place of hope they had found amidst the dazzling field of blooms and golden light.  There was the promise of forever in that hazy remembered moment, with the white dress and cape, the wind in her hair, the kiss that had swept her up in delight. Though the sky had been their only witness, Emma had felt her heart blend irrevocably with his in that moment, and there in their home by the sea, weeks or months later, so jarring and confused she hardly knew which, as he pulled the sheet and blankets up to her chin before huddling beneath them with her and hoping to banish the world outside, it felt as if they were finally going to enjoy the vow that had been made between them in that fairy tale scene rose-tinted in her mind’s eye. With Killian at her back, arms wrapped around her so that hand and hook could rest upon her skin, and his nose nuzzled warmly at the nape of her neck, at long last Emma finally slept.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615​ @searchingwardrobes​ @kmomof4​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @laschatzi​ @jrob64​ @apiratewhopines​ @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @sotangledupinit​ @anmylica​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @gingerchangeling​ @gingerpolyglot​ @optomisticgirl​ @tiganasummertree​ @spartanguard​ @therooksshiningknight​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @elizabeethan​ @donteattheappleshook​ @drowned-dreamer​ @justanother-unluckysoul​ @cosette141​ @xarandomdreamx​

[snowbellewells]

Self-Promo Sunday: “Dark Swan, Hot Chocolate”

Well friends, I’m a little late getting this posted this week, but I wanted to revisit this little early 5a one shot - a missing Swan Believer moment that I would have loved to see when they returned from Camelot to Storybrooke. There’s art now too, so hopefully the whole product will bring a bit of warmth and a little smile. It can still be found as a chapter in my collection of various one shots, “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts”, on either AO3 or ff.net, if that is your preference. There are numerous other fics where this came from in that collection. 

Summary: Standing alone outside Granny’s Diner, while all of those she loves are gathering inside without her, Emma feels the true weight of what taking on the Darkness has cost her. But there’s one special person who can still bring an offering that reaches her, no matter how dark and cold the night might feel...

“Dark Swan, Hot Chocolate”

by: @snowbellewells

She stands alone outside the packed diner, huddled into the long, black duster she wears over her equally dark dress, futilely trying to ward off the chill autumn air. Unfortunately, the effort is wasted when the cold comes from within her as well, wrapping subtly around her heart. Cozy, bright lights and the hum of chatter from her gathered family, former friends and allies, emanate in a soft glow from the windows of the little inn and restaurant, piercing the night.

The woman once known as Emma Swan, now the self-proclaimed Dark One, impassively watches those within mingling, laughing, and embracing. If a person didn’t know the tiniest nuance of her face, she would look unaffected, waiting for the best time to make her next move. However, as her thin frame, buffeted by the wind at her back, leans forward slightly, a hint of the yearning within her peeps through the harsh, immovable veneer. The former lost girl who had almost – finally ¬– found her home nearly shows through the frosted, severe hair and barely glimmering pale skin for a moment, aching desperately to take a step closer, to be back inside, within the warmth of love and light, once more a part of something.

The Darkness slides back in smoothly, quickly, before Emma’s human longing can fully take hold, purring with the thrilling tingle of so much magic at her fingertips, whispering that she does not need any of them. ‘Look at them, going right on without you…’ the insidious voice in her head reminds, until Emma finally recedes once more and it is the icy, impervious new magical villain who turns and begins to walk away – a solitary black shape against the backdrop of the dark, deserted street.

Suddenly, she stiffens at the sound of the bell above Granny’s door jangling, a slam as it hits the frame again, and footsteps pounding down the steps, onto the pavement, seemingly running after her. She pauses, body taut and vibrating with barely contained power, fingers clenched in tightly until her nails dig into her palms, forcing herself not to spin and immediately blast the newcomer off his or her feet.

Waiting, she is still and unchanging as stone until a small, light hand falls gently on her arm, and Henry speaks in the voice that pierced her impenetrable heart four years ago when he showed up at her door in Boston, and refuses to leave her, even now. “Mom!” Henry pleads, voice roughly cracking with emotion as he clutches her elbow. “Wait, please…”

No matter how the beast within roars and tries to surge up in retaliation at her hesitation, Emma fights through it enough to turn and look on her son, a young man now but still beseeching her to listen and believe in him. Henry’s mop of brown hair ruffles in the breeze as his eyes search her face, hope somehow still directed at her, his faith causing a lump to rise in the back of her throat where nothing else has penetrated.

“Here,” Henry offers, holding up a to-go cup from Granny’s that she hadn’t noticed until then. “I know you like it with cinnamon…like I do. You must miss the hot chocolate.” He tries a mischievous, knowing little smile, and Emma somehow feels a tiny echo of her own inching her own lips up at the corners.

Giving the barest of nods, Emma extends her hand to take his offering, careful not to let her fingers brush his – not wanting the chill that has taken her over to infect his warm heart and generous spirit. “Thanks, Kid,” she rasps, struggling to force the words past a tightened throat and make them heard.

He shrugs, “No problem” his easy reply. They share a moment that is nearly casual, coming close to the easy camaraderie they have always had. But his earnest face sobers quickly as he catches her wrist before she can distance herself again and stares into her eyes unflinchingly. “I – I know you’re angry…at Gramps and Grandma, my other mom…everyone. And you’re hurt. You feel like it’s too late…this is who you are now, and that they should have to pay. It isn’t true though! I’m not giving up on you – and I’m not the only one, either.”

She shakes her head, starting to protest, but Henry interrupts, not letting her deny his hope and his love…his Charming optimism. “I miss you, Mom,” he adds wistfully, then plows on, “but I know you’ll be back. Until then, enjoy the hot chocolate.” With that, he gives her one last quick smile and dashes back the way he came, back into the warmth and light of the gathered citizens of Storybrooke.

Emma turns and continues the walk to her house alone. Raising the cup to her lips though, she finds one tiny tendril of warmth and comfort at first sip; the chocolate, milk, and spice of the cinnamon greet her tongue with happy nostalgia and sweetness. It solves nothing – and yet, for the briefest of moments, it thaws a bit of the ice that has encased her from the inside out. Maybe the real Emma is still in there somewhere, anxious to savor something as simple as a favorite drink, and maybe – just maybe – find her way back out.

Tagging: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @cosette141 @zaharadessert @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @anmylica @xsajx @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @thislassishooked​ @optomisticgirl​ @sotangledupinit​ 

[jennjenn615]

Love love love love love this!!!!!!

Self Promo Sunday: “Prestidigitorium!”

When I originally wrote this little one shot after Season 5′s premiere episode (5x01), I remember being both excited and anxious for what was to come for Emma and those who love her most. I couldn’t help wanting to write a bit of sweet fluff for them, in the midst of all the angst that I’m now sure is on the way. (Boy, we couldn’t have even guessed at how angsty Season 5 would really get, could we?) I loved that little Emma in the flashback was seeing The Sword in the Stone, and the title of this is from that movie’s song Merlin sings while showing Wart how to pack magically.

Also available on A03 or ff.net (As part of my One Shot Collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts) if you prefer to read on one of those platforms.

Summary:  Canon Divergent 5a Missing Moment /// Sometime in what I hope is the near future, a simple family movie night after Emma has defeated the Darkness…

The little yellow cottage by the water seems lit from within on this chilly autumn evening as night begins to fall over Storybrooke, Maine. Though it hasn’t been home for long, Emma Swan’s first place of her own – that isn’t a tiny apartment in some huge, bustling city – is already exactly the cozy sanctuary she envisioned. It hasn’t been more than a couple of weeks since she moved her things in, settled into the space, and she is only now starting to feel that she really will be alright. She will be able to stay here in this little town, and she won’t have to fear hurting the ones she loves, because the darkness is finally, completely gone from inside her.

Most of that credit goes to her two True Loves seated right in front of her, part of the gathering in her little home tonight. Her sexy and sweetly devoted Captain, and her precious son who never stopped believing in her, are the ones who kept her fighting even when her battle against the Dark One curse began to feel hopeless – when she might have otherwise lay down in defeat and been subsumed by the horrific and overwhelming power that had coursed through her veins, aching to take her over.

Tonight is not about that though, even if she cannot help ruffling Henry’s hair with such an overflow of affection that it makes momentary tears well in her eyes as she pauses by the back of the sofa where he sits with little Roland Hood, waiting for everyone else to settle in with them to begin movie night. Killian is sitting quietly on Roland’s other side, clearly trying to appear extra calm and still, Emma can tell, because of the little boy in their care. Finally feeling like herself again, Emma had offered to babysit so Roland could join their little party and Regina and Robin could have a much-needed night alone to truly reconnect, talk, and heal. It made her feel even more accepted and restored to normal when Regina didn’t hesitate to accept her offer at all. Still, Roland hasn’t spent much time with any of them except Henry, and Emma finds it insanely adorable how hard her former pirate boyfriend is trying not to spook the child, to the point of keeping his hook shielded from view at his other side. As if sensing her thought, Killian tilts his head up against the back of the couch to look at her hovering over his shoulder.

“You’re thinking quite loudly, Swan,” he quips playfully, though she sees the unasked question in his eyes behind the jest. After all they have been through recently, he is especially attuned not to let her thoughts veer back toward guilt and fear over where she has been or what she has done, not if he can help it.

Keep reading

[jennjenn615]

Love this! Killian would do anything for Emma!! And he proved that over and over!!! Thank you for sharing this!!! I’ve read it several times!!!

Self-Promo Sunday: “And by a Sleep, We Hope to End the Heartache”

*** Sorry I’m late with the Sunday re-run this week! I’ve had the cover art made and this story picked out, but just haven’t been able to get it posted past couple of weeks. Anyway, this story was originally written for the second edition of the @csstorybook​ on Tumblr – go check that out if you haven’t, it’s amazing!!  My episode for that project was 5x04 “Broken Kingdom” and I wanted to imagine how Killian might have tried to help comfort a sleepless Emma as she fought the darkness within.  Hope you enjoy!  I’d love – as always – to hear what you think!

This can also be found as a chapter in my one-shots collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts” on AO3 or on ff.net…

             “Lass…Emma… Love, please, you have to stop…” his quiet voice, vibrating with emotion despite its soothing timbre, still somehow managed to slice through the paranoia, the swirling images, and yammering voices roiling inside her skull.  It was the one thing, other than her son’s hopeful, trusting face, which had managed to do so since she had risen from the ominous hatch in the Camelot forest, alone, confused, and the newest Dark One.  Her stride faltered at his plea, her step finally pausing before the window of the castle suite they had been given by Arthur for their accommodation.

             Looking over her shoulder to find his fraught gaze, Emma turned slightly toward the pirate, a glance half exasperation and half desperate need on her conflicted face.  “What do you want from me, Killian?” she whispered tiredly, her shoulders slumping with a weary defeat he had rarely seen from her.  He had no way of knowing that Emma desired nothing so much as to cross the large open chamber and collapse into his arms, as she had a week ago when they’d first found her in the stone circle about to crush Merida’s heart.  His embrace tight around her, his heart beating frantically just under her palm, those few moments had been the only time the riot inside her head had seemed to cease – when she could think clearly, as only herself.  She needed that relief again, and yet she feared letting down her guard, even for a moment’s comfort.  She was barely keeping all the violent, persuasive urges twining through her consciousness at bay, barely keeping all the raw power tingling under her skin from breaking free.  She could not allow herself the peace of Killian’s embrace; rest might let the horrors loose upon them all. 

             Her pirate watched her knowingly, his eyes gentle, yet seeing and understanding too much as his discerning gaze studied her from across the room.  Those blue pools of his stare took in the way she vibrated slightly, no matter how she tried to hold still.  He saw the tangled, disheveled fall of her hair – usually more a silky sheet of gold – the strange, rough grey duster she wore, still trailing dirt and dried leaves from the forest floor behind her.  This was his Swan before him yet, but she was in distress and guarded once more, in a way she had finally begun to put in her past – and he experienced a disorienting, long rush of despair at how to help her.  He only knew for certain that he must find a way.

             “Come here, Lass,” he finally murmured, half a directive and half an appeal, as he held out his hand to her from where he sat at the edge of the room’s large canopy bed. 

             “Why?” she fired back nervously.  “I’m the Dark One now.  I don’t sleep, remember?”

Keep reading

[jrob64]

🥺😢🥹

Self-Promo Sunday: “And by a Sleep, We Hope to End the Heartache”

*** Sorry I’m late with the Sunday re-run this week! I’ve had the cover art made and this story picked out, but just haven’t been able to get it posted past couple of weeks. Anyway, this story was originally written for the second edition of the @csstorybook​ on Tumblr – go check that out if you haven’t, it’s amazing!!  My episode for that project was 5x04 “Broken Kingdom” and I wanted to imagine how Killian might have tried to help comfort a sleepless Emma as she fought the darkness within.  Hope you enjoy!  I’d love – as always – to hear what you think!

This can also be found as a chapter in my one-shots collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts” on AO3 or on ff.net…

             “Lass…Emma… Love, please, you have to stop…” his quiet voice, vibrating with emotion despite its soothing timbre, still somehow managed to slice through the paranoia, the swirling images, and yammering voices roiling inside her skull.  It was the one thing, other than her son’s hopeful, trusting face, which had managed to do so since she had risen from the ominous hatch in the Camelot forest, alone, confused, and the newest Dark One.  Her stride faltered at his plea, her step finally pausing before the window of the castle suite they had been given by Arthur for their accommodation.

             Looking over her shoulder to find his fraught gaze, Emma turned slightly toward the pirate, a glance half exasperation and half desperate need on her conflicted face.  “What do you want from me, Killian?” she whispered tiredly, her shoulders slumping with a weary defeat he had rarely seen from her.  He had no way of knowing that Emma desired nothing so much as to cross the large open chamber and collapse into his arms, as she had a week ago when they’d first found her in the stone circle about to crush Merida’s heart.  His embrace tight around her, his heart beating frantically just under her palm, those few moments had been the only time the riot inside her head had seemed to cease – when she could think clearly, as only herself.  She needed that relief again, and yet she feared letting down her guard, even for a moment’s comfort.  She was barely keeping all the violent, persuasive urges twining through her consciousness at bay, barely keeping all the raw power tingling under her skin from breaking free.  She could not allow herself the peace of Killian’s embrace; rest might let the horrors loose upon them all. 

             Her pirate watched her knowingly, his eyes gentle, yet seeing and understanding too much as his discerning gaze studied her from across the room.  Those blue pools of his stare took in the way she vibrated slightly, no matter how she tried to hold still.  He saw the tangled, disheveled fall of her hair – usually more a silky sheet of gold – the strange, rough grey duster she wore, still trailing dirt and dried leaves from the forest floor behind her.  This was his Swan before him yet, but she was in distress and guarded once more, in a way she had finally begun to put in her past – and he experienced a disorienting, long rush of despair at how to help her.  He only knew for certain that he must find a way.

             “Come here, Lass,” he finally murmured, half a directive and half an appeal, as he held out his hand to her from where he sat at the edge of the room’s large canopy bed. 

             “Why?” she fired back nervously.  “I’m the Dark One now.  I don’t sleep, remember?”

Keep reading

[jrob64]

🥹🥹🥹

Self-Promo Sunday: “Dark Swan, Hot Chocolate”

Well friends, I’m a little late getting this posted this week, but I wanted to revisit this little early 5a one shot - a missing Swan Believer moment that I would have loved to see when they returned from Camelot to Storybrooke. There’s art now too, so hopefully the whole product will bring a bit of warmth and a little smile. It can still be found as a chapter in my collection of various one shots, “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts”, on either AO3 or ff.net, if that is your preference. There are numerous other fics where this came from in that collection. 

Summary: Standing alone outside Granny’s Diner, while all of those she loves are gathering inside without her, Emma feels the true weight of what taking on the Darkness has cost her. But there’s one special person who can still bring an offering that reaches her, no matter how dark and cold the night might feel…

“Dark Swan, Hot Chocolate”

by: @snowbellewells

She stands alone outside the packed diner, huddled into the long, black duster she wears over her equally dark dress, futilely trying to ward off the chill autumn air. Unfortunately, the effort is wasted when the cold comes from within her as well, wrapping subtly around her heart. Cozy, bright lights and the hum of chatter from her gathered family, former friends and allies, emanate in a soft glow from the windows of the little inn and restaurant, piercing the night.

The woman once known as Emma Swan, now the self-proclaimed Dark One, impassively watches those within mingling, laughing, and embracing. If a person didn’t know the tiniest nuance of her face, she would look unaffected, waiting for the best time to make her next move. However, as her thin frame, buffeted by the wind at her back, leans forward slightly, a hint of the yearning within her peeps through the harsh, immovable veneer. The former lost girl who had almost – finally ¬– found her home nearly shows through the frosted, severe hair and barely glimmering pale skin for a moment, aching desperately to take a step closer, to be back inside, within the warmth of love and light, once more a part of something.

The Darkness slides back in smoothly, quickly, before Emma’s human longing can fully take hold, purring with the thrilling tingle of so much magic at her fingertips, whispering that she does not need any of them. ‘Look at them, going right on without you…’ the insidious voice in her head reminds, until Emma finally recedes once more and it is the icy, impervious new magical villain who turns and begins to walk away – a solitary black shape against the backdrop of the dark, deserted street.

Keep reading