#Dark Hook Comes to Storybrooke

[moistvonlipwig]

OUAT Week Day 1: Favorite arc

Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was an enchanted forest filled with all the classic characters we know. Or think we know.

But they were never trapped in a place where all their happy endings were stolen. They were never trapped in our world. They just kept living in the enchanted forest forever, same as they always had been.

And they were so much worse off for it.

Snow White and Prince Charming never had to confront the worst parts of themselves or their society. They never had to learn to accept and love a daughter who wasn't exactly how they'd imagined her. They never had to reflect on their past actions or learn to forgive the past actions of others. They built a kingdom that, much like their own selves, looked like a fairytale but crumbled like sand the moment it was challenged.

Emma grew up with her parents, but they coddled her and taught her only to look pretty and pick flowers and sing. She never learned to believe in her own ability to solve problems, never learned the importance of fighting back against wrongdoing, never learned how to do anything but surrender in the face of a challenge.

Henry, like his Storybrooke counterpart, wanted to be a hero. But he never had to learn empathy or compassion for villains. He never had to face the fact that people are more complex than their fairytale labels make them out to be. He never saw the consequences of black-and-white thinking. He became a knight and then a king who prized violence over kindness, vengeance over forgiveness.

Regina never cast her curse, and thus never learned what a hollow victory it truly was. She never adopted a child or learned that there were more valuable things in life than her quest for vengeance. Indeed, that is how we leave her: on the deck of the Jolly Roger, forever in that moment of pure confusion at the idea that anything could be more important than revenge.

Captain Hook, on the other hand, left the Wish Realm and did learn there were more important things in life than revenge. He had a child, and he gave up everything for her. But when he made a mistake and lost her, he had no support system to fall back on, no one to catch him when he fell. He returned to the Wish Realm, slid into depression and desperate schemes, and only clawed his way back to a better life once he joined up with the characters from Storybrooke.

Robin Hood lost Maid Marian early and never had a child with her. He kept stealing for himself and never chose to put his skills towards helping others. He lived a lonely and selfish life, without purpose or fulfillment, until he stepped outside the Wish Realm and was forced to consider what kind of person he really wanted to be.

Rumpelstiltskin lost both his son and the woman he loved. In fact, it's not clear that he was ever even reunited with his son at all. Thus, he never came to appreciate the value of making oneself vulnerable to love or the importance of doing the right thing even if it comes at a cost. Instead, he sought only power over others. He lost the humanity he once had and gave every part of himself over to the anger and fear within him. He became the ultimate Dark One.

The Wish Realm is fundamentally unchallenging. No one is forced to change or to reckon with their past. No one learns to empathize with their enemies. Everyone stays the way they were prior to the first episode of OUAT in perpetuity, calcifying into caricatured versions of themselves. It is a fairytale without depth, a fantasy world without humanity to ground it in reality. The only way to grow past its stagnation is to escape.

There are some strange and inconsistent wordbuilding choices in how the Wish Realm was written, to be sure. But thematically, the Wish Realm arc is coherent and powerful. It is a celebration of the journey these characters have taken with each other. An acknowledgment that the things you go through in life, good and bad, matter to who you are; that sometimes things we think are curses can be blessings in disguise; that, as Regina will put it in 7.20 "Is This Henry Mills?", "scratches are a part of life." The ultimate thesis of the Wish Realm storyline is that the characters of Once Upon a Time are better for having been a part of each other's imperfect, messy lives. I'd like to think that all of us are better off with these imperfect, messy fictional people in our lives, too.

#ouat meta #once upon a time #userstorybrooke #ouat #wish realm arc apologist hive wya #and it's the story of us

[mingisdoll]

Alternative Remedies

Includes: gn!witch!reader, idol!fwb!San, cursing, yelling, a teeny bit of violence, mentions of stress, angst with a fluffy ending? cockwarming, size kink, homeboy is playing with your ass a lot lol

@newworldnet

Thank you to @bunnliix for giving me the drabble title

Done.

That's what you were.

Just utterly fucking done.

You were just supposed to relax and help Mr. Gold and Belle take care of baby Gideon but nope! You had to go on a small quest with Snow White and David Charming. Emma and Hook were taking care of baby Neal and you couldn't use Henry as an excuse to opt out of this quest since the young boy was with Zelena. She wanted to bond with him a bit more and Regina volunteered to take care of baby Robin. So now here you were.

Sitting in the back of a cop car

With the Seven Dwarves

And they were yapping about such damn nonsense. You forgot your earbuds at home so you couldn't ignore their endless bickering about whatever the fuck they were on about. When it was time to catch the bad guy, you teleported out of the car and in between Emma's parents.

The quest was easy. You took out the bad guys with ease. So why were you so fed up? Simple.

Dopey swung his pickaxe and tried to hit the bad guy but they dodged at the last second and the tip of the axe slashed your arm. What was worse was that it was laced with magic.

Light magic.

And you dealt with dark magic for the main part.

When you screamed, or screeched in pain, random bursts of spells were expelled from your palms and everyone was blown backwards.

Which leads us to now.

You were yelling at Dopey for being stupid and not paying attention to where the axe was thrown and Grumpy stood up for him. Poorly may I add.

Snow and David swore they say smoke come out of your ears as you cussed out Grumpy. The angry dwarf remained stoic but the couple could tell he was afraid for his life.

"SCREW THIS! SCREW ALL OF YOU! FUCK THIS SHIT! I'M DONE!"

You threw Dopey's pickaxe to the side and teleported out of the forest in a puff of smoke. You were now in your apartment, sighing to yourself as you laid on the bed. Then, a notification appeared on your phone and you were about to tell whoever texted you to fuck off when a look of pleasant surprise appeared on your face.

You didn't think twice about responding back. Choi San was definitely someone that could help you with your stress. It's even better since he knows you're a witch so you didn't feel the need to cover up your words if you were going to rant to him plus you can poof in front of him anytime you'd like

San: Hey, baby

San: I'm in town

San: Well, technically I'm in New York lol anyways

San: My group finished the first concert for our American tour and I told them that I was gonna stay behind since they wanted to go out. Told them I wasn't feeling too well.

San: Wanna come over? We don't have to fuck. I just want you close to me.

And that's how you ended up in his room, straddling him and kissing him fiercely. He matched your ferocity and grabbed your ass a lot. He squeezed your hips and played with both of your cheeks for a bit before pulling away.

You: Sure. I'll be there in a bit. Lemme get ready.

San: I'm in the same hotel as last time. I'll be waiting, kitten.

"Bad day today?"

"Oh you don't know the half of it, Sannie."

As you ranted about your day, he mindlessly played with the hem of your jacket and listened to your words tentatively. He cradled your face and kissed your forehead softly.

"I know you put a spell on this jacket so your memory doesn't get fucked up since you're outside of Storybrooke. But may I remove it for now? I want to feel you." He asked gently. "I thought you didn't want to have sex." You were confused. "I don't but still. I need you with me. Do you catch my drift?" He clarified and it dawned on you. "Yeah you can remove it for now. I need you as well." He smiled at your confirmation before slowly shrugging off your jacket and setting it on the nightstand. You took off your leggings and San brought you into a deep kiss before licking his fingers and plunging them into your hole. While he was doing that, you took off your shirt and so did he.

You forgot how wide he was and you almost came on the spot.

As you were admiring his strong build, he sunk you down onto his equally thick cock and you moaned loudly. He chuckled smoothly and leaned in to nip, kiss, and lick at your neck. He missed marking you up. You tried your best not to squirm around since you were just cockwarming him, but with the way he was smacking and grabbing your ass, you couldn't help but wiggle in his strong hold. He pressed you against his semi naked form and just held you. He may have been shirtless, but his sweats and boxers were just pulled down to the middle of his thighs.

You mindlessly ran your hands over his broad shoulders and gawked at his firm chest, tiny waist, sculpted abs, pretty collarbone, muscular arms, and his face.

Oh his face was to die for.

Sharp jawline, sharper eyes, a pretty nose, pretty lips, high cheekbones, and

Was that an eyebrow slit?

"Nice brow slit." You commented randomly and he smiled. You found it endearing when his smile made his eyes crinkle and almost close up. "Thank you. I wanted to try something new." He explained. "Well you look nice."

For the rest of the time, you were just sitting on his cock, moving every now and then to keep him firm so he doesn't go limp and slip out. You definitely needed this. You felt all your stress wash away and you sighed in content as you looked down at the man that was holding you down onto his cock.

Choi San will be the death of you.

#newworldnet #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Let's spread some love 😘. What are some of your top five favourite cs fics?

Oh, Nonny... This is so difficult!!! There are so many incredible fics out there. So here is a list of the first five that came to mind because I rarely stumble on one that I don't love...

(1) @kmomof4 has a host of incredible fics. (It is kind of fun reading her backlog because her first few fics include author notes along the line of 'I am not a writer, but I had this idea. I will probably never write again' but she has 39 strong CS fics. I say all that to say... her recent Bridgerton-inspired fic A Mistress to No One is at the top of my list.

(2) @the-darkdragonfly was one of the first CS authors I read and I have yet to find a story of hers that I don't instantly fall in love with. I love her voice and style so, so much. She is single-handly responsible for my love for Will Scarlet. My current favourite of hers is Tempest - be warned it is incomplete-ish (it is a rewrite of an older story), but kudos and comments feed the muse... so, go read it and let her know how amazing it is.

(3) @nachocheese-itsmycheese will break your heart, bring tears to your eyes, and have no mercy for you while she does it. And, if that doesn't make for some amazing fics... I honestly don't know which of hers to recommend. Read them all? Currently, I cannot get enough of Between Waking Life and Our Dreams but that Darkness Series is also so good. And, I cannot forget the Captain Cobra story...

(4) @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89 also have an entire bookshelf of amazing fics. Their joint effort Dark Hook Comes to Storybrooke is bloody brilliant.

I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT I HAVE ALREADY REACHED....

(5) @donteattheappleshook is another of my first CS fic authors and, again, has a host of incredible fics for you to read. Not Broken at All is one of my favourites of hers, but seriously the other ones are so, so good that it is a favourite by the finest of margins.

But, seriously, this misses so many fantastic authors and amazing stories...

#asked and answered #cs fic rec list #major cs fic rec #captain swan #once upon a time #killian x emma #ouat #cs fanfic #cs ff

[spartanguard]

sons of love and death, 13/13 {CSSNS 23}

Summary: After the Final Battle, Killian Jones had finally settled into his happily ever after with his wife and family. Until a new foe arrived in Storybrooke: the infamous Dorian Gray, who looks rather familiar—one might say identical—to the pirate, and he’s on a mission: to claim the powers of the Dark One for himself. There’s only one problem: the Dark One no longer exists. What follows is a journey of vengeance, revelations, magic, and finally facing down the darkness within himself that Killian thought he’d finally put to rest. [roughly canon divergent from 5B, though set post-canon] A/N: Here we are at the end of my @cssns story for 2023!! Hope you like how I've wrapped it up! Thank you all for following along this adventure! (As always, thanks to the best beta, @optomisticgirl !) rated M | 1.3k words | AO3 |  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Several weeks later

Storybrooke’s harbor was just a few bobbing lights on the horizon, almost disappearing into the glare from the setting sun behind it. It was a clear, cool evening—perfect for a sail. 

Killian had navigated them to a spot just far enough away for privacy, but close enough to get back to town quickly if needed—not that they were concerned with anything happening, but mostly out of habit. That, and he didn’t want to get too far into open water until he was more comfortable with his new prosthesis.

It had taken him a week or so to recover from what happened with Dorian—more mentally than physically, though the stab wound had left a scar over his heart—but once he got through the thick of it and started getting back into a normal routine, he realized he needed something better than the old wooden hand. Surely in a realm with the technological advancements of this one, there had to be better options?

There were—probably too many, if he was being honest. They’d had to go outside of Storybrooke to meet with a specialist (as well as come up with a cover story for his original loss of limb and the subsequent primitive surgery on his wrist), but he was quickly on his way to having a more modern prosthesis.

(A more expensive one, as well; Emma’s eyes had gone wide when she heard the estimated cost, but Gold had been surprisingly generous and offered to pay for it. Killian had first assumed it was Belle’s prompting, but was shocked to find she had done no such thing. It wasn’t quite turning over a leaf, but perhaps it was the final nail in the coffin of their rivalry.)

The following weeks of physical therapy were rough. When learning his magic, he’d compared it to flexing a muscle in a new way; this was similar, but far more literal—and rather more painful, as those in his left forearm had seen little action in the last centuries. Now, though, he was finally getting used to using them, as well as his new hook. 

He had debated getting something a bit more hand-like, but after two hundred years, a hook was what he was used to. This one was far less intimidating, though, and far more dexterous; it actually opened and closed! He was still perfecting his modified grip, but the fact that he had one was thrilling.

(And he particularly liked practicing by using it to remove Emma’s bra straps. He was still working on unclasping, though.)

It was smaller than his old one, but still fit against the spokes of the Jolly Roger’s wheel perfectly. Weighing anchor was still a minor challenge, though, so he had Emma help him with that, and then waited for her at the railing. 

“You’re sure about this?” she asked for the umpteenth time as she joined him.

“Aye; it’s time.”

From the deep pockets of her winter coat, she produced the dagger. It was still as sharp and wicked-looking as it had been all those weeks ago, and knowing their blood sat in the enameled design was off-putting—even worse that it was forged from the steel that had so long been his companion. So it was high time to say goodbye to it, and all it represented.

The portrait had already been taken care of—buried in a small plot in the cemetery, with an unassuming stone bearing Dorian’s name. (Belle had protested simply entombing such an iconic artifact from literature, but no one felt right about trying to display it anywhere, especially with it being both damaged and cursed.) 

He actually had come to terms with the loss of his brother more quickly than he anticipated. Despite all the drama, they had still come from the same womb, but he realized—after some more late nights fueled by slightly more beer than necessary on the back porch with David—it was more the what-ifs he was lamenting. Again, no one understood that better than his father-in-law. (And, in the process, he realized perhaps what he’d thought he was missing was already right there: regardless of what their relationship might be on paper, David had long since filled the brotherly role Liam left empty, and he admitted that Killian held a similar position in his own life. They could only partly blame the subsequent tears on the booze.) 

And now they would put to rest the last bit of Dorian, and part of Killian’s past.

Emma handed the dagger over to him, and he took it gingerly. Despite the emotional weight it carried, it just felt like any old dagger—no hum of magic, no din of dark whispers. 

He glanced down at the railing, where the burn mark from Dorian’s cigarette was still a blight on the wood. It was a scar it would always carry, just like the one on his chest from the blade’s edge, and so many others from his past. 

But it was just a mark—a memory, one from which he had learned and was moving on. 

A line from Dorian’s namesake novel stood out to him: “What fire does not destroy, it hardens.” In a way, it applied to both of them. Dorian had spent so many years burning in the embers of his own ego, entitlement, and anger that it had hardened his heart even against what love it had let in. Killian, though—he’d walked a similar path, but the fires of the Underworld had only hardened his resolve to fight for the things he loved, no matter what.

He didn’t need a piece of metal to remind him of that; the woman at his side was more than enough.

“Fare thee well,” he said, and without further hesitation, dropped the dagger into the ocean.

As long as they could, they watched it fall through the water, the setting sun glinting off its edges, until it slipped into the depths and out of sight. And with it, a weight that Killian hadn’t realized he’d been carrying also fell away.

He took in a long breath of the sharp sea breeze and slowly let it out, then pulled Emma close to his side. “How do you feel?” she asked.

For a moment, he mused on it; how did he feel? It was a complicated set of emotions to sort through, and he’d probably spend some extra time discussing it in his biweekly session with Archie, but one thought swam to the forefront: “Free.”

His dark history would always be there, but he was no longer going to let it hold him back. It took him coming face-to-face with an even darker turn his life could have taken to realize that it was, but now—he was ready to face the future unburdened, and eager for it to start.

“Good,” Emma said, smiling as she rested her head on his shoulder. “So what do you want to do now?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, then took her hand in his and led her away from the rail. “There was one thing I wanted to do with my magic, but never got a chance to.”

“Which was?”

“Remember that delicious red dress you wore to your father’s engagement ball?”

She rolled her eyes, but nodded. “Mm-hmm.” 

“Think you could conjure that up?”

She smirked. “I’ll do you one better.”

The soft, warm breeze of her magic surrounded them, leaving them both dressed as they were that night, the hem of his long tan jacket swishing against her voluminous scarlet skirts. “Perfect,” he murmured, and pulled her close.

And as the sun finally set, revealing a sky full of stars overhead, they danced under the lights—and into whatever lay ahead.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading! tagging some peeps (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows @wingedlioness @word-bug @thisonesatellite @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @klynn-stormz​ @resident-of-storybrooke @bluewildcatfanatic

#cs ff #cssns 2023 #captain swan supernatural summer #killian jones ff #sons of love and death #my ff

[kmomof4]

Anon Ask That Tumblr Wouldn't Let Me Post

Ohhhhhhh my, nonnie!!!! As all the other respondents to this ask have said before me, this was HARD!!!!

My top three fics- that I reread the most, at least once a year- those were easy...

Dark Hook Comes to Storybrooke by @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89

Fairytales by @kymbersmith-90

And the Swan-Jones Trio Unlocked series, and now in addition to the SJT, I've added the Swan-Jones Family fic, Cross Every Line by @totheendoftheworldortime

But beyond these fics, there are SO MANY that I LOVE SO MUCH, it is LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE to narrow it down.

So instead of trying, I'm gonna go down my list of authors I read the most and give you my favorite of their fics... Ready?

@artistic-writer Alii Dimidium Lunam, but only because she wrote it for me, I dreamt about it before it was written, and it was a big part of the inspiration for the CSSNS way back in '17...

@jrob64 Sowing Seeds of Trust

@snowbellewells for Marta, I truly could not choose, so I'm going with her latest fic, Deluge written for this years CSSNS

@whimsicallyenchantedrose Taking Back Neverland

@zaharadessert After much waffling and indecisive hand wringing, I think I'm gonna have to go with Halloween Gambit...

@motherkatereloyshipper Lost Girl: Found

@nachocheese-itsmycheese Darkness Will Be Rewritten

@cosette141 Begin Again series

@deckerstarblanche A Twist of Fate

@the-darkdragonfly The Ripple Effect series

@donteattheappleshook More

@elizabeethan Never Nothing series

@goforlaunchcee Waning Moon

@caught-in-the-filter Sharing the Joy

@thepirateandhisson Once Upon a Mama Mia

@xarandomdreamx The Curse of Misthaven Manor

@ohmakemeahercules I Knew I Loved You

@jonesfandomfanatic Meeting Your Needs

@teamhook The Wolf and the Savior

@mie779 Fragmented Lies

@sailtoafarawayland Fallen and Wanting series

@cs-rylie Irish Betrothal

@spartanguard Even Death Won't Part Us Now

@hookedonapirate Tangled Up in Blue

@iamstartraveller776 The Nightwalker Chronicles

@undercaffinatednightmare Once Upon a Shapeshifter

@booksteaandtoomuchtv Have to go with her brand new one for this year's CSSNS, Witchy Woman, because even though there's only one ch so far, I know it will be checking every single one of my boxes, so... there it is...

@searchingwardrobes Hope Is the Thing With Feathers

@grimmswan Orchid Island

@stahlop Making a Memory

@shireness-says A Fate Woven in Thread and Ink

@exhaustedpirate post mortem

@wyntereyez Squid Pro Quo

@eddisfargo Not a Day Will Go By

@kazoosandfannypacks Window Seat

@kazoo5480 Breaking Down

@anmylica Something About December

@veryverynotgoodwrites Perilous Harbor

@beckettj The Huntsman

@athenascarlet It's Complicated

@myfearless-love Untie My Silhouette

@ohmightydevviepuu (if I fall asleep) the shadows win

@killiansprincss A Court of Vines and Shadow

@hufflepuffinstorybrooke If You're Lucky, Love Leaves Scars

Those above are all at least still semi-involved in fandom, on Tumblr or on discord, even if they haven't necessarily written or updated anything in a while. Tumblr is being ornery, so I'm going to have to cut a few fics from this list and the fics from authors that have either moved on from CS fandom or RL has taken over. So I'll put those on another post in a few minutes... hopefully.

Update- Well, it did work, but just so all the recs can be found on the same post,

Here

Is the link to the Tumblr post with the rest of the recs!!!

#anon ask #that Tumblr wouldn't let me post #favorite fics

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 2 Rewatch Drabbles--2x22 And Straight on Til Morning

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my    rewatch of season 2 of Once Upon a Time as an attempt to finally jump    start the muse again.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a    “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.  Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on the very beginnings of Captain Swan’s epic love story, as soon as a certain dashing pirate makes his appearance.  

Word Count: 766 (why did I think I could stick to a word count again?)

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

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (17.5) (18) (19) (20) (21-22)

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

Emma stared in horrified disbelief at the calm waters that had only moments before been a swirling portal which had swallowed up Greg, Tamara and Henry.  The panic threatened to drown her.  Not only did she have no way to get to her son, no way to save him, she didn’t even know where he’d gone.

Oh God, what was she going to do?  What was she going to do?

So far today, they’d discovered Regina missing and found her in the cannery, Tamara had killed Neal and then sent him through a portal to who knows where, Regina had dropped the bomb about the failsafe that was about to literally kill them all, Hook had returned to help them, Hook had screwed them over, she and Regina had stopped the failsafe, Henry had been kidnapped and dragged through a portal by a pair of psycho idiots, and now she, her parents, Regina, Gold and Belle stood at the dock looking out to sea without the first clue what to do next.

So basically your average Tuesday in Storybrooke.

Why couldn’t they ever get a break?  Ever?

“What is that?” Emma looked up at Belle’s question and followed her finger pointing out to sea.

Her stomach swooped and her heart raced as she saw the tell-tale sails and rigging of the Jolly Roger. “Hook,” she said, feeling hope for the first time in hours.

He was coming back to them, coming back to her.

Hook had changed alliances so frequently in the time that she’d known him that it nearly gave her whiplash.  She should write him off completely.  What kind of a fool trusted someone like that?

But she’d been speaking the truth when she confronted him back in the diner an hour ago.  “You and I, we understand each other.  Look out for yourself and you’ll never get hurt.”  She knew him.  She understood.  She’d known from the moment they climbed the beanstalk together that he was a good man who had lost his way after who knows how many tragedies.

He was a villain by circumstance, not by nature, and she knew he could turn away from the dark side if only he opened himself to become a part of something.

A part of something with her?

Emma mentally shook herself as the ship pulled into the dock and Hook slowly limped his way down the gangplank.  No.  She could trust him to help them find Henry, but she knew better than to trust him with her heart.

Even if she’d instinctively felt she could and wanted to ever since the beanstalk.

“I thought you didn’t care about anyone but yourself,” she said, her tone deliberately biting.

He looked deeply into her eyes as he placed the magic bean in her hand.  She saw his earnestness, the absolute sincerity in his cerulean eyes.  “Maybe I just needed reminding that I could.”

There was that swoop of her stomach again, the leap of her heart.  She ruthlessly pushed the attraction aside as she followed him onto the ship.  There would be plenty of time to think all of this through once they had Henry back safe and sound. (Well…maybe not plenty of time; knowing this town, they’d have approximately forty-five minutes before the next crisis.)

For now all that mattered was finding her son.

#once upon a time rewatch drabbles #season 2 rewatch drabbles #2x22 and straight on til morning #emma swan #captain swan #my fanfiction

[countrymusiclover]

His Golden Princess

Astrid is the sister of Emma Swan making them both the daughters of Snow White and Prince Charming. The sisters entered Storybooke on separate paths. Emma towards the Light and Astrid to Darkness. Astrid let's her mind wander down the path of confusing visions leading her to meet Mr. Gold/Rumplestiltskin. Piecing together what her nephew Henry says may all be true. But will she be able to resist the darkness drawing her feelings to the pawnshop owner.

1 - Dreaming like a Child

2 - Gut Feeling About Him

3 - Knows How to Win

4 - Henry's Theory About Fate

5 - Dagger Quest

6 - Apple's are Code Red

7 - Magic is Real

8 - Finally Have Parents

9 - ‘Emotion’ Magic Lesson One

10 - Nightmares of Burns

11 - Sleeping Curse Club

12 - Swan VS Pirate

13 - We're Discovered

14 - You're in My Realm

15 - Son of Rumplestiltskin/Henry's Father

16 - Hook to the Heart

17 - Near Dying Love

18 - Prince's Permission

19 - A Dangerous Dimond

20 - I'm Peter, Peter Pan

21 - Not You're Darling Pan

22 - Arrow Prophecy

23 - Beliefs Heart

24 - A Child's Curse

25 - Storybrooke Isn’t HIs Kingdom

26 - Princess Astrid Charming

27 - He's Not Dead

28 - Fight The Green Witch

29 - He's My Life

30 - Time Traveling Heart

31 - You’ve Earned Her Hand

32 - A Fairytale Come True

33 - Mr and Mrs. Gold

34 - An Ice Wall

35 - Past Comes Calling

36 - Am I Going Crazy Again

37 - Mirror of Darkness

38 - The Worst Versions of Ourselves

39 - To Saving My Husband

40 - Dark Princess

41 - You're the Dark One

42 - What to Fight for

43 - The Price of a Yellow Flower

44 - Love is the most powerful magic of all

Tag list - just ask to be added

@fanficismydrug @misskitty1912-blog @alanaangie24 @lover-of-books-and-tea

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#emma swam x sister reader #emma swan #margot robbie #ouat rumplestilskin #ouat rumplestilskin x reader #rumplestilskin x reader #ouat rumple #rumple x reader #robert carlyle #regina mills #the evil queen #mary margaret blanchard #snow white #david nolan #prince charming #prince charming/david #henry mills #his golden princess #oc : astrid swan #the dark one #ouat mr. gold #mr. gold #storybooke #ouat #ouat fandom #ouat fanfiction #once upon a time #ouat fic #wattpad fanfiction #comments really appreciated

[ouatsqincorrect]

What do you think were going on in Emma mind when she told Regina and Zelena about Hooks proposal? Did she even noticed Reginas reaction?

i’ve seen a lot of takes on this but i actually think the tragic thing about that whole moment was that this was the one time emma didn’t catch regina lying. her superpower flat out didn’t work on the person it has always worked on. i think it’s one part denial and one part the emma swan who first came to storybrooke has been buried so deep, even regina’s lies go past her now.

i think a lot about how emma and regina’s stories are similar but in reverse. regina lost herself to the evil queen, and to a situation that was completely out of her control, and had to work for years in order to get back to the person she used to be. emma was a badass in s1. she had issues, yeah, but who doesn’t? by s6, she’s hardly recognizable. she’s fallen into her own darkness and has lost herself. remember when snow was talking about regina and she said “she’s gone, but oh i hope she comes back someday.” yeah.

so no, i don’t think emma noticed regina’s reaction and if she did, she let it slide because it’s easier to ignore the fact that regina’s upset than it is to face why regina’s upset

#ask

[happy-emmdings]

Been enjoying your polls lately! do you have any headcannons on how you think cs live their married + family life? Like their habits, their kids, their jobs, their last names etc etc (also so happy you have asks now!!!)

Hi!!

Yes, I sure do have some! Maybe more then you asked for😅

But I have to say that I didn't watch season 7 and though I have a general idea what happens in it, I could not possibly be more confused about its timeline so... let's just say „I've elected to ignore it".

For their honeymoon, Emma and Killian go on a long cruise along the East Coast (there are many advantages to marrying the real Captain Hook), maybe to Florida and back and they make several stops along the way in different places. Killian explores more of the strange land without magic (and with way too much technology) with Emma as his guide and it’s very fun and wholesome

Of course, they inevitably interact with regular people and there is so much comedic potential in that. Obviously because Killian is 200-year-old pirate from another realm but it's time for Emma to realize that she's not the normal person constantly bewildered by the existence of fairytale characters anymore... she's one of the magic freaks now, she has to stop herself midsentence before she accidentally says something that would sound insane

Just imagine Emma and Killian finding themselves at a bar, getting to know some friendly strangers and they start playing Never have I ever... infinite possibilities how that could get increasingly weird

They have an adventure in the Bermuda triangle too, because nothing can be normal for Storybrooke's heroes

Hope Swan Jones is born 2 years after the end of season 6 and she adores her big brother Henry, even though their dynamic is still more like young uncle/niece because of the big age gap but they get full sibling energy when it comes to an argument

Swan is her middle name just to confuse everyone

I've always imagined Hope with dark hair and green eyes even though blond Hope seems to be much more popular. Now I'm contemplating the possibility of dirty blond

The jury is still out on whether or not they would have more than one kid but I suck at coming up with names so🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Emma continues to be Storybrooke's sheriff which at this point just means being the Savior. Let's be real Storybrooke hasn't enforced a single law since the first curse was broken and it’s not like deputy Captain Hook has ever had a lot of regard for law, but... They try to maintain order more or less. Things do get more peaceful, but it's still Storybrooke so of course stuff happens from time to time but nothing traumatizing or apocalyptic. Nevertheless, Emma and Killian solve occasional mysteries together and keep Storybrooke citizens safe

Killian is the first member of Belle's Book Club, because he supports his friend Belle when she decides to start organizing fun activities at the library. You just know he read the original version of The Odyssey. Other book club members include for example August, sister Astrid and Leroy (who is only there for Astrid and their will-they-won't-they non-discreet romance annoys Killian to no end because he's not a bloody matchmaker why are they asking him what the other thinks of them)

The Swan-Jones family goes sailing on their family vacations every summer!

Make it a joint family vacation with Belle and little Gideon. Belle finally gets to travel and Hope and Gideon become unlikely childhood friends.

There's also at least one Swan-Jones and Charmings camping trip that includes Snow teaching Hope and Leo how to make a fire and build shelter in the wilderness, sword duels with sticks, stargazing, campfire songs, so many campfire songs! (they all have such beautiful singing voices and they should use them) This is also time for Emma to bond with her parents and experience something she didn't have as a kid

"Eat some bloody vitamins" dad Killian vs. "Popcorn mixed with milk duds" mom Emma

Killian Jones cannot look at a child he has some connection to without being like "Welp looks like I have to teach this little pirate everything there is to know about sailing and navigating by the stars and secret maps, I simply must, it's the code..." So Hope can tie every kind of knot there is and becomes an expert in old timey boat stuff by middle school

She loves it because 1) it's a special thing she and her dad can bond over 2) it makes her feel cool and smart 3) she's a total nerd 4) she inherited the innate love for the ocean that runs in her dad's side of the family

Hope has magic but she's not super good at it, Emma helps her practice and sometimes pulling an innocent prank on dad or grandpa is part of the practice

Killian makes so many dad jokes. And so does Emma

Killian sings Hope to sleep when she's little and Emma reads bedtime stories to her

Sometimes she reads something like Winnie the Pooh and Hope asks if Winnie the Pooh is also real and Emma shuts the book and stares at the wall and has an existential crisis for a second because who knows at this point he might as well be??

So, these are some of them that I salvaged from the absolute chaos that is my notes app... Thanks for the ask❣️

#in my alternate season 7 henry goes to college #(and maybe ​drops out has a quarter life crisis and goes to some magic land to collect stories) #that might be similar to actual season 7 i guess #but i’d have henry meet sheherezade and they would be like story-collector rivals/partners/friends/maybe love interests #they’d just have a thing #that’s fully inspired by d20: neverafter btw #but without the horror stuff #putting this in the tags because its kinda off topic #i’m still developing this idea #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #hope swan jones #the swan jones family #ouat headcanon #answered asks

[pirateswhore]

ypu mentioned thinking that hook has ptsd or cptsd. what makes you think this? And would you say it would affect his relationship with anyone or with situations?

so ! personally leaning towards c-ptsd for him.

c-ptsd or complex PTSD differs from PTSD in that its caused by a continous traumatic event or multiple traumatic events in succession (whereas regular ptsd is caused by a single traumatic event).

now for killian's trauma.. let's see:

lost his mother

sold into servitude by his father

spent his entire childhood and teenhood as a slave

been to the navy (with mentions of an ongoing war)

lost his brother

lost his wife AND hand

so I'd say he has the "multiple traumatic events" requirement checked. now for symptoms:

- difficulty controlling your emotions: we see him often be impulsive and snapping at others; we witnessed multiple knee-jerk reactions from him (pulling a gun on ursula in 4b, wanting to burn his emotions in 6b)

- feeling as if you are permanently damaged or worthless - he struggled with self-loathing and resentment throughout the series, and often felt like his past actions were too evil to ever be forgiven or redeemed. we can see he feels unworthy of love and support (like when he tells Emma "I'm not sure I deserve saving" in s5b)

feeling like nobody can understand what happened to you - I feel like until he met Emma (and her infamous "you and I, we understand each other" quote), he probably felt like he was alone in his feelings and experiences

- feeling very angry or distrustful towards the world, avoiding friendships and relationships, or finding them very difficult - "love brings nothing but wasted years and endless torment" straight from his mouth. when we first met him, his relationships boiled down to superficial allyships to aid his cause.

constant feelings of emptiness or hopelessness, regular suicidal feelings - for someone who calls himself a survivor, he sure as hell had a lot of suicidal thoughts and tendencies. from going on what was essentially a suicide mission to kill the Crocodile, to talking about how he would join Milah once he avenged her. he was also... very quick to jump and sacrifice himself (call it selfless, I call it "doesn't care if he dies")

other symptoms can include losing hope and positive world views ("I'd hate to be the one to offer optimism", constant dismissal of heroes' remarks about hope and happy endings) as well as substance abuse and addiction. which. yeah, I can bet he abused more than just rum, considering that opioid misuse goes back to the 17th century (golden age of piracy) as well as tobacco and other recreational drugs. we see him struggling with addiction all his life and its a running theme for the character (with parallels between addiction and darkness)

as for affection his relationships, most definitely. people with cptsd are very often untrusting of others. when we met him, his walls were as high as Emma's when it came to opening up to people, he simply had a more playful, flirty persona he put on for th3 world to mask it. and for situations, cptsd causes someone to be in a state of survival at all times ("I'm a survivor" yea I wonder why) and be hyper aware of their surroundings ("I'm quite perceptive" again I wonder why)

overall, while I don't think this (or his possible BPD and ADHD, both of which go with cptsd often, bpd especially) were intentional by the writers, I do believe that once you compare his behaviour to the behaviour of people diagnosed, there are some clear similarities too large to ignore. I don't think he really understood the concept of mental health before coming to storybrooke (I'm unsure if the concept even existed in people's minds in the EF). but yea. it goes with his character and backstory I think.

#tw suicidal thoughts #tw abuse #tw trauma #killian jones #headcanons

[thegladelf]

An Open Heart is An Open Wound 13/?

Guess who's back! *nervous laugh emoji*

I know it's been a while. Life got busy and writing got hard, but uh, we've gone down another Captain Swan rabbit hole and that led to old fanfic and that led to me realizing that I still had at least a couple of chapters outlined. So I dunno if I have it in me to finish this fic, but I'm going to get y'all as far as I can. I've forgotten a lot of what I originally had planned, but luckily I have notes for some of it and the show for the rest. There's at least one more chapter coming after this and I know it's going to make a lot of people happy. (No beta to credit this time, we die like Liam Jones now)

Last Chapter | From Beginning | AO3

Summary: Killian was sent to our world to find a cursed town called Storybrooke, but his quest was derailed when he met Emma Swan. Drawn together by a past that is more similar than either of them realize. For a time, they were family. Then things changed and Killian left to complete his mission. Now, ten years later, Emma has come to Storybrooke and it’s Killian must decide whether he should pick up the pieces. (Alternate universe retelling of Season One.)

Word count: 10.8k

# # #

“Whatcha reading?”

“The Hulk versus Wolverine.”

Killian didn’t recognize the first voice at the end of the aisle, but the second was one he knew well. Not wanting to startle the lad, he ceased his perusal of the baking goods—he knows there are ready made breakfast foods, but he prefers making things from scratch and free of all those words he doesn’t know—peering over the shelf tops to find his son holding up a colorfully illustrated book for the inspection of a girl not too much older. She stood a bit taller than Henry, her hair cascading over her shoulders in golden waves. Her clothes echoed his school uniform, which made sense he supposed, as there was only one school that he knew of in this town and it got out a few minutes ago.

“I’m Ava,” the girl supplied.

As she spoke, someone brushed past Killian drawing his attention. Another child in a school uniform, this one a dark-haired boy with his arms full of toiletries. He strode casually past, seemingly unaware of Killian's presence. Killian noted the care in his step, his suspicion confirmed as the lad crouched down at the end of the aisle, quietly reaching for Henry’s backpack on the floor.

“I think I’ve seen you around school,” Ava continued as her accomplice slipped his items inside Henry’s backpack. “You’re in Miss Blanchard’s class, right?”

The second lad stood quickly, stepping forward. “Almost ready, Ava?”

A flicker of unease flashed across Ava’s face as she acknowledged the new boy. “This is my brother, Nicholas.”

Indecision stayed Killian’s hand for only a moment. He and Emma had used similar tactics on more than one occasion, and from the look of these children, they needed the items. But they were involving Henry in their actions and that he couldn’t let slide, no matter that he had been in their position on many occasions. Hadn’t he often nicked things while good, polished Liam distracted the cart owners?

“Hi,” Nicholas said, touching his sister’s arm. “Come on – let’s go.”

The girl smiled at Henry. “You want to come hang out?”

Henry’s bright reply stabbed at Killian’s emotions as he stepped forward, but the shop’s proprietor was eyeing the threesome with narrowed eyes—though that might just be the continual cold the balding man seemed to suffer from.

“Hold up just a minute there, mate,” Killian said, resting his hand on Henry’s shoulders. With his hook, he caught one of the many loops on Henry’s rucksack, sliding the zipper open to reveal the stolen goods. “I don’t think you want to be going anywhere with these two until they’ve returned these things.”

Ava stared up at Killian, like a rat caught in a trap, her fists balled at her sides. The boy — already halfway to the door — bolted the rest of the distance. His sneakers skidded against the tile floor as nasally challenged Clark slapped his hand over the door.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded of Nicholas. He sneezed and dabbed at his nose with a crumpled handkerchief. “Don’t think I didn’t see you rob me.”

Henry’s lip trembled as he looked at the pair of siblings and despite Killian’s common experience with these waifs, he felt the flare of anger at how they had taken advantage of such a good heart as Henry’s.

“That’s why you were talking to me,” his son accused. “So your brother could put that stuff in there.”

Ava bowed her head, at least having the decency to be ashamed. Her brother glared at Clark, but remained silent.

Clark grabbed the boy by his arm, roughly pushing his toward the counter and his register. “I don’t know who you two think you are—don’t you go anywhere missy, you come right over here with your brother.”

He glared until she obeyed, though it wasn’t surprising, she didn’t seem keen to leave her brother. A trait she shared with Liam, he truly hadn’t known when to let Killian go either.

Clark grabbed a phone just to the side of the register. “I’m calling your parents—all of your parents,” he said, with a look at Henry. “And then I’m calling the sheriff.”

“Surely that’s not necessary,” Killian said. “It’s toilet paper and food stuffs. Certainly you can let it slide so long as the children put it back and promise not to engage in such activities again.”

“Certainly I will not,” Clark shot back. “I won’t stand for thieves in my store.” He schlumped around the counter, yanking the bag from Killian’s grasp. He threw it on the counter with a thunk. Carefully, he unpacked the bag, sneering at Henry’s school books as he called Emma and then attempted to call the children’s parents. From Killian’s side of the conversation, the former appeared more fruitful than the latter. The man tried to dismiss Killian, but as he showed no sign of releasing Henry as well Killian opted to stay.

Besides, he recognized the look in the children’s eyes. They might need a champion to plead their case.

Emma and Regina must have both been in their offices, for they arrived at nearly the same time. Regina’s black sedan whipping into a spot behind the curb, she was up and out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind her, as Emma’s cruiser pulled into the space behind her. Killian bit back a smile at the sight of her rolling her eyes as Regina stormed through the door.

“What’s all this about?” the mayor demanded.

The clerk pulled himself up to his full height, which was still several inches shorter than the mayor. “Well, I’m sorry, Madam Mayor, but your son was shoplifting.”

“That’s a lie,” Killian said. “I saw the whole thing myself. Henry had no idea.”

“See?” Regina said. She grabbed the olive bag, zipping it closed with finality. “We’re going.”

Emma breezed through the door in time to halt Regina’s progress out of the shop. She paused, her eyes sliding over the scene, taking in each person. Her jacket rode up on her shoulders as she propped her hands on her hips, finally zeroing in on their son.

“Henry.” She sounded surprised. “What happened?”

Regina sighed. “Miss Swan, must I remind you that genetics mean nothing.” She spoke forcefully, her arm curling around Henry’s shoulders and drawing him closer. “You’re not his mother and it’s all taken care of.”

Her words made Killian’s blood boil, but Emma didn’t even flinch. Her calm demeanor reminded him of their bargain. Though he wanted to, giving Regina the dressing down she deserved would only strain things between the two and they had Henry to think of. For his sake, there needed to be peace between his mother’s.

“I’m here because I’m the Sheriff,” Emma said, with a sarcastic tilt of her head.

“Oh, that’s right.” Sounding disappointed rather than humbled, Regina stepped back, nodding at the boy and girl. “Go on, do your job. Take care of those miscreants.”

Emma sighed, but said nothing else to Regina as she and Henry left to the chiming of the bell. Ava and Nicholas eyed Emma’s badge warily. Killian found he wanted to comfort them, offer some assurances that Emma would set things right. He kept silent though, it was not his place to make promises for her.

“Did you call their parents?” she asked Clark, fiddling with her keys.

“Uh, the number they gave me was disconnected,” Clark said. With an exasperated huff, he circled back around the counter and started packing the items into a little, blue shopping basket. Though he kept his head down, the tilt of his head made it clear he followed every word of the interrogation.

“Did you guys give Mr. Clark a fake number?”

The children shook their heads.

“Then why’s it disconnected?”

The boy hung his head and tears sprung into the girl’s eyes.

“Cause our parents couldn’t pay the bill,” Ava said, soft and broken.

Emma picked up the nearest item, a tube of toothpaste. She gave the small box far more scrutiny than it deserved. Remembering her own childhood, no doubt.

Emma met his gaze when she looked up, but focused on the children once again. “And you guys are just trying to help out, huh?”

“Please,” Ava whispered. “Please don’t arrest us. It will just make things worse for our parents.”

Clark sighed, setting the basket down on the counter with a thud. He leveled a disapproving glare at Emma.

“The items never left the store, Mr. Clark,” Emma said. “I think you can let it go this once.”

“And what about the next time?” the man asked in his nasal whine.

Killian shook his head. Henry hadn’t found the time to acquaint him with every character in the book—though he suspected that the lad had at last figured out who Mr. Gold was—but they had found a few stolen moments here and there for Henry to acquaint Killian with the people most pivotal with his grandparents' story. He couldn’t imagine anyone putting up with Clark for very long, let alone as long as Snow White and the other dwarves had.

“There won’t be a next time,” Emma said, fixing a stern look on the cowed children.

“And you’ll be compensated for the items,” Killian put in. He fished his wallet out of his jacket pocket, laying out the money that would have paid for the few items he needed. He could manage one more morning of only citrus for breakfast and come back tomorrow. “Ring them up.”

“Hook…” Emma said.

“No, I insist.” He smiled at the children. “I’ve been there a time or two myself. Their intentions are good, even if their methods are suspect.”

Emma smiled at that. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Fine,” Clark said and then sneezed.

The children glanced at each other, their mouths hanging open.

“Thank you, Mister,” Ava finally said. “We promise it won’t happen again.”

With a smile, Killian wondered if she meant they wouldn’t steal again or simply that they wouldn’t get caught.

# # #

“I could’ve taken care of all that,” Emma said as she watched Ava and Nicholas trot merrily up to her squad car.

Killian shrugged, letting the door swing closed behind him and cut out the jingling bell above it.

“My brother and I were very much like them, once upon a time. Though we didn’t have parents to go home to.” He grimaced, closing his eyes like he wanted to shut out a particularly painful memory. It was one of the most concrete details he had ever shared with her about his past. With a scratch behind his ear, he continued, “The kindness of a stranger could have changed both of our lives.”

Emma pressed her lips together. “Yeah, too bad there aren’t more strangers like you out there.”

He snorted. “That’s probably a good thing, Swan.” He threw a flourishing gesture toward the kids leaning against the car. “Would you like some help transporting them back home?”

“I’ll add that one to the list,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“What list?” Killian asked, brow furrowing.

“The list of people you think I can’t handle,” she replied, sticking her hands in her back pockets. Her eyes strayed down the street, eyeing the pawnbroker’s sign swaying in the wind. “Should I put preteens before or after middle-aged men who use a cane?”

Killian tensed. “That is hardly something to joke about.”

“Lighten up, Hook. I know you don’t like the guy, but I think I could take him in a fight.”

Killian grunted, staring so hard at the kids she thought he might burn a hole through Nicholas’ head.

“Hey,” she said. “I don’t like him either. And I don’t plan on looking for trouble. Though if he keeps showing up at work…”

“What?” Killian snapped, tearing his gaze from the children. “When?”

Emma held her hands up, more to tell him to chill out than to push him away. “Whoa. He was there the day after the election is all. Wanted to give me Graham’s jacket.”

“And you’re just mentioning this now?” he demanded. “What did he do? Did he threaten you?”

“Stop it,” she said, aware of the two kids watching not far away. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him a little further down the street, turning him so those flashing blue eyes wouldn’t get the kids all worried. She sighed. “He wanted to congratulate me or whatever. Apparently, my standing up to him was all part of some master plan to get me elected.”

She suppressed a shudder, remembering the silent way Gold appeared at her office door two weeks ago. She hadn’t even known he was there until he spoke and nearly scared her out of her skin.

“Emma,” Killian pleaded, “I need to know things like this.”

“No,” she snapped. “You don’t. Look, your problems with Gold are not my problems with Gold. I don’t know what happened between you two, but until you care to tell me what he did that was so awful, I’m going to handle him based on my own experience. Got it?”

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’ll see you around,” she said, pushing past him.

The kids slid inside the car as soon as she popped the locks, setting the white plastic bag with the groceries Killian had purchased between them. Ava rattled off an address with a speed that stoked the burning suspicion already coiling in her gut.

Emma expected yellowed, peeling paint and maybe a boarded up window, but the house she ended up at was a calming blue and looked well maintained. The yard neatly cut and the steps leading up to the door swept clean. It was in better shaped than Ava in her ratty sweater and Nicholas with his shaggy haircut.

“This it?” she asked, throwing the gear into park. At the kids nod, she unhooked her seatbelt.

“Please, no,” Ava said, sinking into the backseat. Her fingers tightened around the belt buckle. “If our parents see you, they’ll be so embarrassed.”

Emma twisted, her jacket squeaking against the leather seat as she faced the kids fully. “Did Henry tell you about my superpower?”

Ava shook her head. “We just met him.”

“I have the ability to tell when anyone is lying.” Emma softened her voice, trying not to sound too harsh as she met first Nicholas and then Eva’s eyes. “Tell me the truth, money problems aside, is everything okay at home?”

They both nodded too vigorously.

“Yeah, we’re great,” Ava answered, but her words sounded hollow. Rehearsed. “Can we go?”

Emma contemplated calling them out, but thought better of it. Something was off for sure, but she needed to know more before she could decide what to do. “Alright.” She inclined her head toward the door.

Both of them flashed her relieved smiles as they piled out of the car, the bags in their hands. The sun caught Ava’s messy waves as they bounced against her back. The girl turned and waved to Emma from the top step, her smile bright and very, very fake. With a nod, Emma shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. The kids watched her in the rearview mirror, so Emma kept going until she rounded the corner of the street and couldn’t see them anymore.

She parked against the curb and jumped out. Brittle, winter grass crunched under her boots as she crept through a yard, peeking around a bush just in time to see the kids disappear around the side of the house. Emma took off after them, careful to stay just far enough behind that they wouldn’t catch her lurking.

The pelted across a deserted street, leading her through an overgrown yard and past useless, rusting trucks. Finally, Nicholas tossed the bags to Ava and used a trash can to scramble over a fence. The girl did the same. Emma almost went after them, but decided against it, noting instead the dilapidated, white house that appeared to be their true home.

She circled around. The house was old and obviously abandoned. She wondered why it hadn’t been listed in the paper all those weeks back when she had been looking for a home. She probably could have afforded this one too, she thought and immediately scoffed at the idea. Emma Swan was not the type to own a house. Renting worked just fine for her, thank you very much.

Every window on this house was boarded up, but the front door had a simple lock. Biting back a smile, Emma knelt, making quick work of the lock. Dust littered the air when she entered and she suppressed a sneeze. Light filtered in through the old boards, landing on a trap door that led into the basement and the floor creaked loud enough to provide sound effects for the movie Twister. Emma paused, stepping down on the board that protested so loudly, making groan again.

That should do it, she thought.

Quickly, she ducked down a hallway and waited to see who would be the first up from the basement.

Before long, Ava and Nicholas came tiptoeing through the house, Nicholas holding on tightly to his sister’s hand. They missed Emma in her little corner, peering instead into the kitchen.

“Why’d you guys lie to me?” Emma asked, stepping out of the shadows. “Where are your parents?”

The kids spun toward her, eyes wide. Nicholas pressed his mouth shut tight, but Ava lifted her head, a hint of a challenge in her posture as she said, “We don’t have any.”

She knew she had recognized the look in their eyes. Now the questions was, what could she do about it?

# # #

After she escorted them down into the basement—which was in even worse shape than upstairs, despite the furniture crowded together in an attempt to create a home—Emma had the kids gather up all their things and marched them back down the road to her squad car. They went without complaint, both eyeing her warily, but seeming to accept the inevitable.

She knew what she should do. Cases like this were social services business not hers, but every time she looked in the rearview mirror and saw their dejected faces, it reminded her of what would happen to them if she made that call.

“What happened to your parents?” she asked.

“Our mom died a couple of years ago,” Ava, the appointed spokesperson for the pair, said. She fiddled with her hair, wrapping and unwrapping a strand around her finger with frenetic energy. Gone was the calm, cool exterior.

“And your dad?”

Ave just shrugged.

She knew what she should do, but that was exactly what had been done with her, wasn’t it? The people who had handed her from home to home were just doing their jobs. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, what was it Killian had said about the kindness of strangers? Her life could have been so different if even one person had truly cared about her.

So she decided she would care about these kids. She was going to do her best to make sure they didn't get separated. Maybe she lacked any real idea of what to do exactly, but there had to be something.

“Hey, I need to stop by the station real quick to pick up some stuff,” she said, glancing up at them through the mirror. “But you’re not in trouble, okay? I’m going to take you to my house and get you some real food and then we’ll figure out what to do.”

Ava sighed, groping for her brother’s hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.

They opted to wait in the squad car, so she left the keys in the ignition and hopped inside for a few minutes as she searched through the records for anything related to them or their mom. She found a file, an autopsy report, with the name Ava had given her for their mother, but not much else.

The car was still there when she came back out and only then did it occur to her that they could have stolen it. Emma shook her head. Intentions aside, she needed to be a little more careful with these two.

Twenty minutes later found them back at the loft, a pot full of mac and cheese on the stove as Emma and the kids ate. Both children had tucked into their food with relish, shoveling it into their mouths like it might disappear.

“Hey,” she said, waiting for them both to pause and look up at her. “There’s as much of that as you want. I’ll even make another box if you’re still hungry, just don’t make yourselves sick.”

Nicholas swallowed, nodding. They both continued with a little more patience this time. Ava’s fork scraped the bottom of her bowl just as the apartment door opened and Mary Margaret walked in.

“So I hear that—” Mary Margaret froze, gaping at the two kids now sitting at her kitchen table.

Emma’s chair squealed against the floor as she pushed it back. “Guys, this is my roommate Mary Margaret. I need to talk with her for a minute.” She jerked a thumb back at the kitchen. “I won’t eat more than this, so you can have the rest if you want.”

Both kids jumped to their feet, bowls clutched in their hands.

Mary Margaret couldn’t seem to decide where to look. Finally, she said, “Uh, what did you need to talk about?”

Emma pulled her back into the bedroom, the file weighing heavily against her conscience. She knew how many rules she was breaking.

“They need a place to stay for a couple of nights,” Emma said.

“What? Why?” Mary Margaret hissed. “What happened to their parents?”

Quickly, Emma spilled the details of their little adventure at Clark’s store. Her roommate pressed a hand to her mouth as she listened to Emma’s description of the house they had been living in.

“They’re wearing the uniforms from your school,” Emma finished. “Do you know them?”

“I’ve seen them, but…: She shook her head. “I had no idea. None of us did.”

Emma sighed, a small part of her relieved that Mary Margaret hadn’t been close to these two. She didn’t know what she would have done if her roommate had had suspicions about the kids’ home life and said nothing.

“Ava and Nicholas Zimmer.” Emma opened the autopsy file again, her eyes scanning the documents. She saw no mention of the kids, just like she hadn’t found anything about them the first time she read through it. Mom had apparently passed from some form of cancer. “They said their mother was a woman named Dorrie Zimmer. She died a few years ago.”

Mary Margaret fiddled with one of the buttons on her blouse. “And the father?”

“There isn’t one. At least not one that they know.”

“What does, uh… What does social services say?” Mary Margaret asked. She took a step forward when Emma stayed silent. “You didn’t report them.”

Emma leaned in, lowering her voice even more. “I report them, I can’t help them. They go into the system.”

“The system that’s supposed to help,” her roommate countered.

“Yeah, says the woman who wasn’t in it for sixteen years,” Emma snapped in a hushed voice.

Mary Margaret stepped back, swallowing nervously.

Emma pushed on. “Do you know what happens? They get thrown into homes where they are a meal ticket, nothing more.” She peeked behind her again, glad to see the kids settled with their second bowls of cheesy goodness. She caught Mary Margaret watching too. “These families get paid for these kids and as soon as they’re too much work, they get tossed out and it all starts over again.”

“But they’re not all like that.” Mary Margaret shook her head.

“All the ones I was in.”

Pity filled Mary Margaret’s eyes, but not for the kids, this time she directed it at Emma. “What? We’re just going to adopt them?”

And there was the crux of the matter. There wasn’t room here, neither of them were exactly in the position to take on two kids. Emma had no delusions on that hand, she wasn’t even equipped to handle Henry. And Mary Margaret…well, she’d want kids of her own someday, there was no home for them with her. Maybe a few weeks ago she would have given up and consigned them to the system with a heavy heart, but standing in the kitchen she had remembered her argument with Killian. It took him only a few minutes to accept Henry as his son, only a few minutes to demonstrate just how wrong keeping it from him had been. What if Dorrie Zimmer had made the same mistake all those years ago?

“I want to look for their father,” she said. “They don’t know him. He may not know they exist.”

Mary Margaret’s eyebrows shot up. “And you think if he knows, he’ll want them?”

Emma wanted the answer to be yes. But she wasn’t, she couldn’t. Maybe Killian had proved her wrong—and the jury was still out on that one, because he could up and leave at any time—but she didn’t even know if she had ever met this other guy.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. Emma wrapped her arms around herself, trying not to think of cold hands and clothes that smelled like trash bag. “But what I do know is it’s hard enough finding foster families to take one kid that isn’t theirs, let alone two. It’s their best shot, or—”

A soft gasp burst out behind her. “We’re going to be separated?” Ava stared at them, her face red and tears in her eyes. Her exclamation had drawn her brother’s attention, he paused, spoon halfway to his mouth, eyes going wide.

“No,” Emma said, too quickly to think about what she was saying. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Please…” Ava’s lip trembled. “Please don’t let it.”

“Emma’s going to do her best, sweetie,” Mary Margaret said, with a hard look at Emma. “Now, as good as that dinner looks, I think it’s missing some dessert. Why don’t you help me bake some cookies while Emma tries to figure this out.”

Ava swallowed, but nodded despite tears still in her eyes.

The kids were reserved the rest of the night. Nodding and answering in monosyllables when they could. Despite all of Emma’s patience, they didn’t know any more about their dad than they told her in the squad car.

She let them take her bed, volunteering to sleep on the couch. Mary Margaret offered the other half of her bed, but that felt too…cozy for Emma. Too much like it meant something, like they were best friends who braided each other’s hair and swapped stories about boys. That made Emma feel guilty, because if it weren’t for Henry she would leave Storybrooke behind and never look back.

The kids didn’t have any real pajamas, they just apparently slept in their clothes and changed the next day, so Mary Margaret unearthed a couple of t-shirts and some sweatpants for them to sleep in. They disappeared upstairs with soft good nights after changing into the new clothes and handing over their old uniforms to be thrown in the washer with all their dirty clothes.

That would be a plus, at least, Emma thought as she tried for the third time to get comfortable on the couch. She remembered many, many days wishing she could do more than air her few outfits. Every now and then, she’d save up enough for a corner laundromat, but clean clothes were a luxury when you had to steal to eat.

Emma wanted to do better for them though. Better than a couple of meals and clean clothes and a night in a warm house. She pulled the blanket a little closer. She knew exactly what nights in that old house must have been like.

She would do better for them. They’re birth certificates had to be at city hall. She could start there. Maybe there would be something on their birth certificate or in the hospital records.

Yeah, there had to be something. She smiled. It sounded like something Henry would say.

She drifted off, thinking maybe, just maybe she could be the kind of stranger Killian mentioned earlier that day.

# # #

Ava nearly cried when Mary Margaret handed her a uniform smelling of Downy. Even Nicholas ducked away when he thought they weren’t looking and swiped at his eyes.

It was odd, having two near teenagers to get up and fed and ready for school all of a sudden and she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have Henry sitting around the table with them. To be handing him a clean sweater and telling him to hurry up in the bathroom. Both children tried to take their time in the shower, but Mary Margaret hurried them along with promises of letting them shower later that evening until the hot water ran out.

They went to school with her, while Emma headed over to City Hall, ready to brave the musty archives and hoping she might find something — anything — to give these kids a chance.

In a rather stereotypical fashion, the Office of Records was in the basement, tucked away down a practical labyrinth. Emma wandered into three other offices before she finally got directions to the right one.

A huge, oak counter stood between her and the rest of the room. Behind it was set after set of library style filing bins, all of them in the same matching wood. Every flat surface was covered in files and binders and odd papers. A man sat amidst the chaos, his attention on a computer that could probably give life advice to the ones at the sheriff’s station. Half bald, with a beer belly and a rumpled button-down shirt, he was oblivious to Emma’s arrival until she called out.

“Excuse me. Mr…” She examined the nameplate and made her best guess. “Krzyszkowski?”

The man let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, it’s Krzyszkowski.” Pronouncing it like there was a ‘v’ at the end, though, there wasn’t. Emma checked. He stood, weaving around a table to get to the counter. “Everyone calls me K.”

“Mr. K,” she repeated, relieved to have a name she would be less likely to embarrass herself saying. “I am Sheriff Swan. I’m hoping to look at the birth certificates of Ava and Nicholas Zimmer.”

He reminded her a bit of a rat, with his beady, dark eyes. If Emma expected some curiosity or blustering, she would have been disappointed. Krzyszkowski reached for one of the papers behind the counter immediately and pulled up a handful.

“Alright, just, uh, fill out this form.” He slapped the papers onto the wooden surface, killing the small, foolish part of Emma that had hoped for just a moment it would be that easy. He lifted an industrial stamper, big enough to be a serious contender in a game of Clue and stomped it down on all three pages. “In triplicate.”

Emma blinked, surprised that it was that easy, despite her crushed—but unrealistic—hopes. The form only wanted basic information, record keeping for who saw what records she assumed, no signing over your firstborn or requests for certification.

“Okay.” She plucked up the first form. The desk had one of those ball-and-chain pens, the swinging chain causing her handwriting to wobble slightly.

“I’m so sorry,” the man said from his spot halfway across the room. He stood at one of the filing cabinets, his fingers still shoved inside a file holder. “Those documents have been recently removed.”

“By who?” Emma asked.

Somehow she already knew the answer.

“By the mayor,” he replied. He examined the one piece of paper that was in that file. “Just this morning actually.”

Of course.

Of course, Regina dug her fingers into this already. It was so like her, to want to meddle in something that had nothing to do with her whatsoever and step in to do Emma’s job when she was already doing it. Sort of.

“Thanks,” Emma said. “I guess I’ll just go see her about those then.” She left the forms sitting on the counter, one of them only half completed.

How had Regina known who to look for? Had she gotten their names before she left Clark’s shop yesterday? Maybe she’d been so offended that the kids tried to involve Henry she meant to give the parents a piece of her mind, or whatever it was suburban soccer mom types gave when they felt miffed.

Maybe Regina had planned to show up on their doorstep with a basket of apples.

Emma snorted at that, but reeled herself in quickly. Laughing would not get her into Regina’s good graces, and she needed to do that if she planned to help these kids.

The receptionist stopped her as she entered. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” Emma said, “but I need to talk with her about the Zimmer case. Tell her that.”

The receptionist stared for a moment, but when Emma didn’t budge, she got up and shuffled into Regina’s office, closing the door firmly behind her. Emma crossed her arms and resisted the urge to tap her foot. The woman returned shortly, the open door she left behind her the only sign that Emma had permission to enter. With a deep breath, she walked into the office, hands stuffed into her back pockets.

Regina shuffled papers on her desk, barely glancing at Emma as she entered. “Don’t worry, Miss Swan. You can relax,” she said, her hand resting on the file Emma needed. “I’ve contacted social services. Turns out these kids are on their own.” She grimaced, as though the thought pained her, though whether that was genuine or an act was hard to tell. “They need help.”

“Which is exactly what I’m trying to do,” Emma said. If they had an equal goal, maybe Regina could be reasoned with. After all, she had no connection to these kids other than their brief contact with Henry.

What did it matter to her what happened to them? “I’m trying to find their father.”

Regina sighed, handing over the file. “Well, he doesn’t exist.”

Emma took the file with a roll of her eyes. “He has to.”

“Well, of course, biologically he exists,” Regina said. “But there’s no record of him.”

Sure enough, where they would have put the father’s name, only the word “Unknown” was written. Disappointment hit Emma solid and low, but she tried not to react. Not in front of Regina.

The other woman fiddled with a pen. “Which means we have no choice.These children need a home, so they will be put into the foster system.”

Any part of Emma that thought Regina’s concern might be genuine vanished at the look of smug satisfaction on Regina’s face. Of course. If Emma was invested in this, Regina wanted to thwart it. And Regina had the law on her side too.

“Storybrooke has a foster system?” Emma waited, already knowing what Regina’s answer would be.

“No, but I’ve contacted the state.” Regina moved around the desk with more ease than anyone wearing a pencil skirt had a right to, speaking in flat, clinical tones. She lifted a pitcher of orange juice — probably hand-squeezed and organic if she was as strict with what she ate as she was with Henry — pouring herself a glass as she explained, “Maine’s group homes, unfortunately, are filled. But they put us in touch with two homes in Boston – a boy’s home and a girl’s.”

The steady thrum of unease that started with the mention of group homes exploded into full-blown dread.

“They’re separating them?” she gasped.

“I don’t like it, either,” Regina said, though her tone was hard to read. “But we’ve got no choice. You need to have them in Boston tonight.”

Emma’s stomach sank to her knees. “Me?”

Regina turned on her, sipping at her glass before speaking. “Well, you wanted to be Sheriff. This is what sheriffs do. Yes, you’re taking them.”

“No,” Emma said with full knowledge that she was being childish. Maybe she couldn’t stop them from being separated, but she would not be the one that delivered them to those homes. She never wanted to be within a mile of another group home for as long as she lived. “I promised them they wouldn’t be separated.”

“Well then, perhaps you should stop making promises you can’t keep.” Regina waited for a moment, her face softening as she approached Emma. “These children need a home. I’m just trying to find the best one.”

“So am I,” Emma retorted.

Regina shrugged. “He left them once. Even if you did find him, that’s not guarantee he’ll want them.” She set her glass down. “I see the appeal of the idea, Miss Swan, really I do. But better a sure home than letting them depend on a man we already know they can’t trust, don’t you think?”

Emma’s grip on the folder tightened. “Fine. I’ll do it. But they get to finish the school day first.”

“A wise decision,” Regina said, smiling coldly. “Best not to make a scene.”

“Madam Mayor.” Emma nodded and headed for the door, the file still clutched in her hand. Her spine crawled. Every step she was sure Regina would call for her to bring the file back, but no such call came. She got out the door and down the stairs and back to the station before she took a full breath, but no one stopped her. No one called her out for a liar.

Not that she had lied. School ran until two, so she had until then to figure something out.

# # #

“Any luck?” Henry walked into Emma’s office and her heart sank.

An odd feeling to associate with Henry. Until now, she hadn’t realized that seeing him usually made her day brighter. His arrival, however, signaled the end of the school day and — since Emma still had no plan — the end of her window to find Ava and Nicholas’ father.

“No,” she said, closing the file she was sifting through. She had all the records from the year Ava and Nicholas were born, searching through for any mention of Dorrie and her possible baby daddy.

Henry dumped his bag and set the storybook down with a thunk, heedless of the mess on Emma’s desk. “I know who they are. They’re brother and sister. Lost. No parents. Hansel and Gretel.”

For just a brief moment, her spirits lifted, until she realized just how ridiculous that was. Henry spoke of fairytale characters and they needed a real life, flesh and blood person. Still, he was trying to help.

“Anything in there about the dad?” she asked, more out of habit than hope.

Henry shook his head. “Just that he abandoned them.”

“Great.” Emma flipped his storybook closed, picking up her last file and heading to stash it back in the filing cabinet. A big bunch of dead ends. That’s all any of this was. “Sounds like a familiar story. Whoever this guy is, he could be in Laos by now.”

Henry followed her into the next room. “No, he’s here.”

Emma scoffed, her natural cynicism apparently untamable today. “Just how do you know that?”

“Cause no one leaves Storybrooke.” He leaned against a desk, tapping his fingers across the dark surface. “No one comes here, no one goes. It’s just the way it is.”

“I came here,” she tossed over her shoulder.

Your dad came here, she almost added, before she remembered she hadn’t told him about Killian yet. That idea made her insides twist. She was okay with Killian knowing about Henry and hanging out with Henry at this point, but every time he even hinted at spilling this secret, ice cold dread seeped into her bones. Sure, Killian was all fatherly and cool with it now, but what happened when he got bored and tired of having a kid hanging around him all the time? Right now, Henry would lose a friend  and nothing more.

“Because you’re special,” Henry said. “You’re the first stranger here. Ever.”

“Right, I forgot.” Emma shrugged it off. He might not remember any strangers coming to Storybrooke, but clearly that wasn’t true. She ran her fingers over the files, wishing she knew them as well as Henry apparently knew his book. The cool metal felt brittle as she slid the drawer closed.

For a brief moment, she wondered if there had ever been someone who felt this way about her. One of her case workers, maybe? Someone determined to help, but with their hands tied by laws meant to “protect” her. She wanted to keep looking, but she was out of time and out of ideas.

Henry came around the desk, hopping up to sit on it like he owned it. “Can you tell me about him?”

“Uh.” Emma blinked. “I haven’t found anything about him.”

“Not their father. Mine.”

He stared up at her with wide-eyed innocence, feet banging against the desk as he waited, completely oblivious to the way Emma’s stomach lurched down to her toes. The silence stretched.

“I told you about your parents,” he added, sensing her hesitation. “And now you’re even living with your mom.”

“Mary Margaret isn’t… She’s… Never mind.” Emma sank into the nearest chair, gathering her thoughts. What did she tell him? How much did she tell him? How did she avoid this subject completely? Killian wouldn’t leave him, a small voice said. But she had been so sure about Killian all those years ago and he left her then. He’d promised never to leave her and then he did.

“Please?” Henry begged.

Emma couldn’t say no.

“I was pretty young.” She sat back, pushing her hair away from her face as she thought. “I’d been dodging social services for a year and…” Emma paused, unsure of how much was too much. Henry already knew about her past, did he really need to know about Killian’s? “To be honest, your dad and I weren’t always on the right side of the law. I met him stealing the beetle.”

Henry’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”

Emma grimaced, maybe she shouldn’t have told him that. “Yeah.”

“Cool.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, well, don’t tell Regina you think that.”

Henry leaned forward. “What happened after that?”

“We were…family for a while after that,” Emma said with a shrug. It was true on her part at least. “And good for each other, I guess.” She watched the way Henry’s face lit up, the way his fingernails dug into the cuffs of his sweater, and she couldn’t tell him the truth. Even if she wanted to—she just couldn’t.

“We got real jobs, tried to put down roots. Mine was at this crappy twenty-four hour diner. And your dad, he got a job at the… docks. Long, hard days, but he’d always come in after work to sit with me until I got off.” She swallowed. That part, at least, was true. There had been a few odd jobs and Killian had hung around a couple of those places while waiting for her shift to end. “He’d order coffee and sit at the counter and complain about how we didn’t have pumpkin pie.”

“Did you get married?”

Emma tried not to blush. “No, we just…” Emma had no idea how much Henry knew about sex. He was nine. Was nine too young? Did it even need to be explained for this story anyways? “Uh, we watched each other’s backs for a while and…” She shrugged. “Eventually we grew apart. Life happened. His got better and mine got worse and…”

“And you met that other guy,” Henry said. “The one that got you sent to jail.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Emma said. She closed her eyes against that particular set of memories, breathing deep. More things he did not need to know. More things she did not need to think about. “Before I went, I… I found out I was pregnant with you. And I tried to contact him, and I found out that he’d joined the…army.” The idea of Killian in the military was laughable, but this was a way to kill two birds with one stone. She gave him a sad smile. “He died during the war, saving a wounded soldier. So, you think I’m a savior, Henry? He was.”

Emma leaned forward, taking his hand in hers. She was going to rot in hell for doing this, she knew. But she’d made her decision. This was safer for her son.

“Your father was a real hero.” She didn’t think she had ever told a more blatant lie.

Henry didn’t give her any time to worry about whether he had inherited her superpower. “Do you have anything of his? Something you can remember him by. Something I could see.”

Without thought, her hand went to her chest, habit taking over before she remembered Killian had the necklace now. Emma sighed, feeling a little less for its loss, even with the memories attached to it.

“I… I don’t…” She sat up, the chair creaking underneath her and startling her beautiful, brilliant, ingenious son. Emma smiled. “Henry, I’m sorry. I gotta go. I may know how to find this guy.”

The wheels of her chair scraped against the floor as Emma rolled away from her desk and headed for her office and her keys. It felt like electricity shot through her veins. This would work, she knew it. Her fingers itched to turn on the siren when she slid into the squad car, but that would draw attention and attention probably meant Regina. And Regina would cut this idea off before Emma could even say the word ‘plan’. Besides, it was only two blocks away.

Ava and Nicholas jumped as Emma burst into the apartment. Ava had one of last night’s cookies in her hand and a guilty look on her face as she whirled to face Emma. Both children wore regular clothes. Emma didn’t blame them for wanting out of those uniforms as soon as possible.

“Stay right there,” Emma said. “I have an idea.”

Nicholas blinked at her, then turned around, reaching for the cookies as Emma dashed upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. Two seconds later, she clattered back down the stairs, her old cardboard box in her arms.

Emma set the box on the counter, reaching inside without taking her eyes off the kids. “I want to show you guys something.”

Her fingers brushed soft wool like she knew they would. The blanket made a poor substitute for parents, but some part of her still relaxed a little.

Nicholas sat forward, his stool teetering on two legs. “What’s that?”

“It’s my baby blanket,” Emma answered, holding the small blanket to her chest. “It’s something I’ve held onto my whole life. That’s the only thing that I have from…” The words caught in her throat, for just a second. “From my parents. I’ve spent a lot of time with a lot of kids in your situation, and all of them…” Again, it was painful to admit. Even if they didn’t know her story, that she hadn’t been enough for her parents, she felt like they would see the truth written across her face, like countless children had done every day of her growing up. But she pushed on, because Ava and Nicholas weren’t in this situation because they were unwanted. They were here because their parents hadn’t had a choice. That was all she wanted, to give them a choice. “All of us. We held onto stuff.”

Ava’s eyes were glued on Emma, her eyes wide and lips slightly parted in a look of wary comprehension. She had them. If there was one thing Emma had noticed, it was that where Ava went, her brother was sure to follow.

“I want to find your father,” Emma said, setting the blanket down. She met first Nicholas and then Ava’s gaze. “But I need your help. Is there anything of his you’ve held onto?”

“I might have something.” Ava swallowed, her hand going to her pocket. She stared at Emma, clenched hand still hidden from view. “But if I give it to you, you’ll make sure we stay together, right?”

“Right,” Emma promised without thought. All she needed was a clue. If she had that, she could find their father. And if she found their father, she could keep them from growing up like she did. She could make sure their story was different from hers.

Metal clinked as Ava withdrew her hand. Shiny, dark metal peeked through her fingers, followed by a chain sliding from the pocket.

“A compass?” It didn’t look expensive, the metal a dull gold that barely reflected the light. It was heavier than it looked though. Emma examined it, noticing that the little needle was stuck.

“Our mom kept it,” Ava explained, her voice raspy. “She said it was our dad’s.”

“Thank you.”

She flipped the compass over, searching for some sign of the previous owner. No such luck. Biting her lip, she racked her brain for any other ideas. This was the key. This would lead her to their dad. She could feel it. She just…

Ava interrupted her thoughts. “Did you find them?”

Emma jerked her head up. “Who?”

“Your parents.”

“Not yet,” she said, because a flat out denial felt too harsh for this moment. “But I’m going to find yours.”

The kids watched silently as she examined the compass, trying to think if she knew anyone in town that might know about such things. She traced the outer edge with a finger, following the path of her thoughts.

Mary Margaret came out of her room, tucking the hem of her shirt into a pair of jeans. “Oh, Emma, I thought I heard you.” She smiled. “Are you done for the day or…”

“No,” Emma said, shoving the compass into her pocket. “I had a couple of questions for Ava and Nicholas.”

“Oh,” Mary Margaret sighed. “Well, Henry will be disappointed, he was planning to come hang out while he waited for Regina to get off work.”

“He knows this is important,” Emma said, hand on the doorknob. “Tell him I’ll see him later.”

The door swung open with a slight creak and Emma could practically hear her roommate adding WD-40 to her mental shopping list, but she didn’t stop to think. She let it latch behind her, pounding down the stairs and onto the street. The squad car’s engine revved to life and she was halfway down the street before she realized where she had decided to find her answers.

If she had been less desperate she might have turned around and figured out another option, but she needed someone who knew this town better than she did and a nine-year-old with a storybook just wasn’t going to cut it.

Few people roamed the streets at this hour. A couple of kids walking home from school, a bike messenger, an elderly couple out for a walk. When she got to the docks, it grew a little more crowded. The harbormaster stood outside his shack, debating hotly with someone. Several bundled up fishermen unloaded crates from a trawler. She pulled up to the curb near where Killian had indicated his ship was...parked? Anchored? Moored? She wasn’t entirely sure what the word was. The fishers paused, glancing over as she got out of the car and slammed the door behind her.

“Afternoon, sheriff,” one of them called.

Emma waved, feeling self-conscious and scanned the boats.

“You in the market for a boat?” he asked, grinning. “Looking to expand the sheriff’s department to the high seas now?”

“No,” she answered. “Just need to talk with a friend.”

“Odd place to look, considering none of those have been away from the docks in years. Nobody owns them far as I know.”

Emma turned to him, a cold fear coiling in her gut. “Really? My friend said he lived on one of these. The, uh, Miss Guided.” 

She almost winced at the name. Almost. But she was too busy worrying over whether Killian had lied to her. A cold sweat broke out over her skin, despite the stiff breeze blowing in from the ocean. She never had accepted his offer to visit his boat, so she had no proof. He could have made the whole thing up and be living on the street for all she knew.

“The Miss Guided?” The fisher got a strange look in his eyes, like he was trying to read fine print, but his eyes refused to focus. He bowed his head. Then his gaze snapped back up to Emma’s, his pleasant smile returning. “Ah, yes, Hook’s little boat. I’d forgotten he moved her so he could keep up with these poor unfortunate souls.” He gestured to the many boats with sails furled and gear packed away, looking forlorn. “That’s her right there.”

For a minute, Emma expected to find Killian standing where the man pointed, but the deck of the ship he indicated stood empty. There on the side curled the words Miss Guided. Clearly, she and this fisher had different definitions of the word little, because Killian’s boat measured at least thirty or forty feet. Despite her complete lack of knowledge about most things seafaring (Killian had talked about a thing or two, once upon a time, but she remembered very little of that), she could see the difference between this boat and the others.

Killian’s boat gleamed, the railing reflecting the sun and the deck a pristine white. The sails weren’t edged in gray or yellowed by the sun. And while the deck was tidy, it was in a thoughtful, useful way that gave the boat character instead of an air of abandonment.

Knees shaking, she approached. She didn’t like this, going to him in his territory, no matter that she had a gun. Killian wasn’t a physical threat to her, she couldn’t ever see how he would be. But she still remembered the way her heart sped into overdrive when Henry asked about him and the way she chickened out instead of telling her son the truth. Killian’s hold on her emotions, even after all these years, scared her far more than any other threat he could ever present.

She could shoot him. She couldn’t shoot her feelings.

“Hello,” she called out. “Hook?” Her feet faltered. A little dock extended away from the main dock down the side of the boat, providing access to a set of somethings that couldn’t decide whether they were steps or a ladder. Emma eyed the boat. Could she board without permission? The expanse of water between that little dock and the side of the boat looked awfully wide. “Hook?”

“Swan?” came a muffled reply. A moment later, Killian’s head popped up from under the deck, startling Emma. He quickly scaled the rest of the way up to the deck, concern clouding his features. “Is everything alright? Is it Henry?”

“No,” Emma said quickly, pushing down the guilt that flared inside her. “I just needed your help with something.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. Killian smirked, leaning up against the side.

“And what,” he asked, consonants snapping, “might the lady be needing help with?”

“Stop it.” She glared at him, though if she was mad at him for coming on to her, she couldn’t feel guilty so maybe she shouldn’t complain. “Look, I’d rather not shout it at you so either you come down here or…give me permission to come over or whatever you nautical types do.”

Killian chuckled. “Oh, things aren’t so formal on this little thing.” He gestured for Emma to make her way down the finger dock. “Though ‘permission to come aboard’ is the typical greeting. Keeps the jumpy ones from running you through with a sword. Here, grab this.” He leaned down, indicating a steel cable stretching taut above them. The metal bit coldly into Emma’s palm. “Yes. Now just step onto the gunwale. One foot and then the other right there.”

Emma did as he said, taking the hand he offered as she stepped off the dock. Killian smiled.

“Good then. Now you can step over,” he said, indicating the cord that ran the length of both sides. “We’ll make a sailor out of you yet.”

“Maybe some other time,” she said. “Look, you remember those kids from yesterday?”

Killian nodded, eyes dark. “Aye.”

“They’ve got no one.”

“I thought that might be the case,” he murmured. “You said you needed my help? How?”

“Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Emma expected Killian to lead her to a bench or something, but instead he led her to the back of the boat and down a cramped set of stairs. It opened up just a little once they were below deck. Enough that Killian could stand without hunching at least. The living quarters too were neat and tidy. No choice really, with the limited space beneath. There was a small kitchen along one wall and a set of cushioned seats along the other. All the way at the front was a triangular little bed, just big enough for one, maybe two people if neither of them were Vikings.

It was nice. Cozy.

Killian shifted nervously. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

Emma shrugged. “Coffee, I guess.”

She glanced around, absorbing the small details. He had been reading, if the book lying face down on the bed was any indication. Not much lay out and about, but neat as Killian was, some of his personality shone through. The tiny pictures on the wall above the couches. The dark, earthy color of his blankets. A towel hanging on the outside of a door near the stairs. The bathroom she supposed.

Killian puttered around, pulling out an old kettle and turning on the stove. The rotten egg scent of propane clouded the air.

“Afraid making coffee is a bit more complicated here than at Granny’s,” he said.

“Well, it’s a step up from the bug,” Emma replied. “At least this place has a stove.”

“Stinks to high heavens though,” he grumbled.

“But at least you’ll know if there’s a leak.”

Killian turned to the cabinet, pulling out two mugs, one at a time. “There is that.” He leaned against the small counter next to the sink, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Now, what’s this about Ava and Nicholas?”

Emma brought him up to speed, detailing everything that had happened since she drove off yesterday. Well, not everything. Clearly he wasn’t interested in the odd little details, like her sleeping on the couch or what she wore to bed. On second thought, he was probably interested in that last one. Killian listened thoughtfully, nodding every now and then without interrupting. By that time the coffee had finished brewing.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said when she finished. “I fail to see how I can help.” He handed her a mug. “Afraid I don’t have any cream.”

“Sugar?” she asked.

In answer, he flipped open another cabinet and handed her a little ceramic jug.

“Thanks,” she said, dumping a few spoonfuls into her coffee as Killian shook his head.

“It’s not meant to be drunk that way,” he grumbled.

“What are you? A Starbucks barista?” Emma retorted.

“A what?”

“You know, Starbucks. Coffee? I know we’ve been to a few…” She shrugged.

“Ah, yes.” He scratched behind his ear. “I suppose I’ve been here so long I’ve forgotten there are places other than Granny’s to get sustenance.”

Emma nodded. “She does make a mean grilled cheese.”

“Now, what assistance were you counting on, Swan.” He cast his eyes around the small hold. “I’m afraid I haven’t much room to harbor a couple of strays, but I suppose…”

“No, nothing like that.” Emma wrapped both hands around the mug, glad of the warmth. She had no idea how Killian stood sleeping in this place. Even with his mound of blankets. They were gloriously messy, as though he had been cocooned in them before she intruded on his afternoon. “I’m trying to find their dad. From what Ava’s told me, he probably doesn’t know they exist.”

Understanding dawned on his face. “And this…father...you think he might take them in?”

Emma shrugged. “I hope so.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, his tone low. “For all you know, they were simply too young to remember him running out on them.”

“No,” she replied. “But it’s worth a shot. I mean, I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to want to be involved either and you surprised me. I figured if you regretted running off…”

“Maybe he would too.” Killian swirled his drink, seemingly lost in the dark liquid. He took a sip, swallowing it with some difficulty. “How can I help?”

Emma pulled out the compass. “This is all they have of their father.”

With one reach Killian set his mug down on the little counter and took the compass in his hand. He turned it over, just as Emma had, caressing the smooth back with his thumb.

“A bit banged up,” he said. “But good workmanship.” He tapped a fingernail on the front. “Crystal. Jeweled setting. Quite the detail. Not your ordinary compass.”

Emma sat forward, hands clutching her coffee. “Is there anything else you can tell me about it?”

Killian shook his head. “I’m no expert. I simply know how to use the device…or I would were it working. Perhaps if you tracked the maker or the man who sold it they could tell you more.”

“Well, unless you see something I missed, I think finding whoever made this is a bust,” Emma said, taking the compass back from him. She pressed her lips together, noting how he fidgeted only slightly—his fingers tapping against his thumb while the rest of him stood stock still. She knew the answer to her next question before she even opened her mouth, but she asked it anyway. “Do you have any idea who might sell something like this?”

“You mean who might buy family heirlooms for pennies and then charge through the nose at resale?” he ground out. “Aye. Unless these children had a compass maker as an ancestor, this likely passed through Gold’s hands.”

Emma stood to leave, but found she wasn’t exactly sure what to do with her coffee. She wasn’t entirely sure she could just dump it down the drain in the sink. That felt a little rude anyways, considering she still had half a cup full.

Killian sighed, lifting the mug out of her hand. “I take it we’re paying a visit to the Crocodile.”

“The what?”

He snapped his mouth shut, eyes widening. “Nothing. Let me grab my jacket.”

“Oh no.” Emma held her hands up, the chain slapping dully against her wrist, halting him in his tracks. “I’m sheriff, this is my job.”

“And I’m a concerned citizen,” Killian shot back. “Mostly about you and the number of deals you’ve struck with Gold.”

“I can take care of myself, Killian,” she said. Tucking the compass into her pocket, she got her foot on the first step before Killian’s hand closed around her elbow. Gentle, but insistent.

“Please, Emma,” he said. “You don’t know him like I do. At least let me come for that, I might catch something you don’t.”

Emma sighed, but she couldn’t deny the very real fear in his eyes. There was a darkness to that fear, but it was true fear. Part of her should have been worried about what would happen if Killian and Gold ended up in the same room with only her to stop them, but she couldn’t dismiss the way anxiety coiled in her gut. Gold had been willing to risk injuring her and Regina to get what he wanted. Maybe Killian’s fear was justified.

“Fine,” she said. “But whatever issues you have with Gold, leave them at the door, okay? I won’t let you mess this up for these kids.”

He rocked back on his heels, his face thoughtful. Then he nodded and plucked his jacket up from among the blankets on the bed. Emma didn’t look behind her as she ascended, but she stopped short as she realized she wasn’t entirely sure how to get off the boat without ending up on her ass.

Killian chuckled as he passed her and it irked her how well he still read her. He winked. “Same as getting on, only in reverse.”

Easy as you please, he took hold of that same cable, quickly stepping over the line running down the side, and stepped down onto the little dock. He turned to her with twinkling eyes and held out his hand.

Emma gritted her teeth and followed him, doing exactly as he had done and stubbornly refusing to take the offered hand.

“See,” he said, apparently unflustered by her rebuff. “Nothing to it.”

“Come on,” she said, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “We’ve got work to do.”

#kau #captain swan #cs ff #cs au #cs fanfic #cs crew #henry's dad!au #i know it's been so so long #i'm a terrible person #this chapter has been sitting on my computer for six years #heh #my bad? #there's at least one more chapter coming tho #which has also been on my computer since 2017 #again a terrible person

[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

#self promo sunday #cs one shot #ouat one shot #5a canon divergent ff #missing moment ff #prestidigitorium #emma angst #cs fluff #captain cobra swan

[mystical-flute]

Swanfire Week Day 4: Time Warp

Also on AO3

Oops, so this is a month late.

While investigating the last of Zelena's magic in Storybrooke, Emma and Neal are thrust back in time, and they must find the key to get them back home.

Okay. Now Emma was beginning to understand how everyone found Gold to be so damn creepy in the past. Not that she’d ever had a great feeling about him, even before she believed in magic, but the glittery skin and the lizard-like eyes were just downright intimidating and terrifying to look at.

Neal looked like he wanted another portal to open underneath him and take him far, far away from here. Emma couldn’t say she blamed him - despite their reuniting in Storybrooke and the work the two of them had put in already, she couldn’t imagine being confronted with Gold while he looked like that was easy for him.

“I thought I felt some powerful magic around here, and here you two are,” Rumplestiltskin hummed, his fingers steepled together. “I must say you’re rather brave to be in this kingdom.”

“And… why is that?” Emma questioned.

“Because of the war, of course. Snow White seems determined to take her kingdom back from her wicked stepmother,” Rumplestiltskin replied, before he gave her a smirk. “There aren’t many people in this realm that don’t know about that considering Regina’s reputation. I don’t think you’re from here at all.”

“How could you - ”

“I’m the Dark One, dearie. I know all.”

Neal visibly shuddered next to her.

“Okay, fine. We’re not from here. We got sent here from the future. See? It’s all written in this book,” Emma said, holding the book out in front of her. “I don’t know how to get us home. I wasn’t the one who cast the original time travel curse.”

“Ah… yes I understand now. But Once Upon a Time is a rather on the nose title for a book isn’t it?”

Emma shrugged. “Who knows why authors choose the titles they do?”

Gold smirked. “Yes. Who knows indeed.”

“So how do Neal and I get back to our time?”

“That depends on you, dearie. What was it in this time that you hated so badly that you needed to change, hm? Who hurt you, and drove you to cast a spell like this? Desperation?”

“Neither of us cast the spell. We just got caught in the crossfire when Emma was trying to stop it.” Neal wasn’t looking at Gold as he spoke, and Emma couldn’t say she blamed him. “So just tell us how to get home already.”

“What’s wrong, dearie? Not a fan of the past?” Gold giggled.

“You could say that.”

Gold flourished his hands. “Well, if neither of you cast the curse, then I suppose you’ll just have to watch the way things play out. Perhaps there’s a feeling of loss that you have, that being here will heal. Just be sure not to change things around… you don’t want something you love to disappear.”

“But how do I - ”

“There is a lake not too far from here. The waters there are magical, so I’m sure you’ll be able to work it out. And who knows? You might be able to find what you’re missing.”

But she wasn’t missing anything, was she…?

Gold raised a brow, like he knew what the issue was, and smiled. “Yes well, if you’re going to risk running into people, you’re going to need to look the part.” His hands flourished, clouds of smoke surrounding them for a moment before it vanished, and they were on the edge of… what was supposed to be a lake, she was sure, but looked like an empty sand pit.

“Where the hell did he send us?” Neal whispered as they kept themselves hidden within the thicket of trees. They were alone, which was weird.

“I don’t know,” Emma whispered as she stepped forward. “But… I feel like I’ve been here before. It feels familiar.”

“You mean when you got sucked through Jefferson’s hat?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, but it’s weird… I could have sworn this was a lake.” It was coming back to her now, slowly. This was the place she’d fought Hook and Cora, right before she and her mother had gone back to Storybrooke.

Before they had gone… home.

“This is Lake Nostos… there was supposed to be some sort of magical water in it… I wonder why your dad would have sent us here?”

“I wonder why there’s no water here,” Neal added with a frown, crouching down. “Does Henry’s book say anything about this place?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, sitting on a log she wasn’t sure was technically on the shore or if she’d be drowning if the lake looked normal. “Keep an eye out for anyone else coming and I’ll take a look.”

Neal nodded, looking into the thick brush that surrounded them.

Emma sighed and flipped through the book, searching for any mention of Lake Nostos. She stopped at one, where a siren tried to get David to drown himself to join her by disguising herself as Mary-Margaret (which Emma shuddered at, because ew). But the lake seemed fine, so she moved on, flipping further into the book, and only stopping when she noticed the same empty basin.

“Oh no,” she whispered, flipping through the story and hoping for a happy ending despite knowing it wasn’t meant to be. “Neal… this is the place David’s mother died.”

Neal’s eyes widened. “Oh no. So if Papa sent us here, does that mean there’s something you need to see before we’re able to go home?”

Emma opened her mouth to reply, but shut it quickly when they heard the sound of footsteps and the creak of something being pulled. Neal ducked in front of her as she shoved the book in her bag, only managing to close it in time for her parents and Lancelot to appear from the forest, and her grandmother - and Emma could hardly believe she would be meeting one of her grandparents - on a cart being pulled behind them.

And Ruth had an arrow in her shoulder, her skin a sickly pale color as blood dripped onto her shoulder.

God, why would she have to watch one of her loved ones die? Hadn’t she been through enough? Hadn’t they all been through enough?

David had fallen to the ground and was clawing desperately at the sand, and Mary-Margaret was dabbing at Ruth’s forehead, bent over the cart and speaking to her so quietly Emma couldn’t hear her.

“Hey!” Lancelot shouted, looking at Emma and Neal with a hand on his sword. “Who are you and what happened to this lake?”

Emma held her hands up in surrender. “I’m… Odette, and this is Derek. We came here hoping to find some magic that will aid us in our quest. We don’t know what happened. The lake was like this when we got here.”

Lancelot frowned. “I see. We were hoping to save Ruth here. King George’s men attacked her.”

Neal gave him a weak smile. “Well, there’s five of us. If we spread out and dig, surely we’ll be able to find some.”

It wasn’t fair, Emma thought as she got down on her knees and began digging in the sand. She knew the little bit she was digging for wouldn’t work, that Ruth would die either way. The little drop David found wouldn’t be enough.

“Young lady… Odette, you said your name was?” she heard Ruth say quietly.

Emma looked up from the hole she’d been digging. “Oh - um, yes, Ruth?”

“Come here, dear. Away from my son and soon to be daughter-in-law’s ears,” Ruth requested, gesturing weakly with one of her hands, and when Emma leaned close to her, she smiled softly. “If you - if you find any of the magic water, make sure Snow drinks it. Not me.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “What? But why? You’re the one who - ”

“She’s had a curse placed on her. One that will prevent her from bearing a child… and I can’t in good conscious live while she has that burden.”

Emma felt the color drain from her face. What?

“So please… promise me she will get the water. And you, of course. I do not know what burdens you, but you’re so young. You deserve to be free of your burdens too.”

Emma nodded a little, and god, she knew she shouldn’t but… David would find a small bit of water, and somehow, her mother must have been the one to drink it, not Ruth so… if Emma could pull the same trick on Ruth that Ruth had done to Mary-Margaret… it wouldn’t hurt, right? Saving her father from the pain and agony of losing his mother would only help, not hinder, right? It wouldn’t be a bad thing…

So Emma dug, and dug, and dug until she thought her hands would start to bleed, and David found the small amount, and the switch happened with the water. Ruth, of course, did not heal from her injury.

Instead, Ruth asked to watch Mary-Margaret and David get married, so Emma and Neal helped them set it up, creating bouquets and setting up an arch.

“Ruth,” Emma murmured as she handed her a completed bouquet of wildflowers. “There is something you should know.”

Ruth was already looking dazed, but she did blink in an attempt to listen. “What is it, dear?”

“Ma - Snow’s curse will be broken,” Emma replied. “I know for a fact… because I’m living proof of it.”

“What?”

Emma smiled. “My name is Emma Swan… I’m your granddaughter. I got flung back in time and Neal and I are trying to get back to our own time period but… I just wanted you to know that your sacrifice will not be in vain.”

Ruth returned the smile and reached up to pat at Emma’s cheek. “Oh… that’s so good to hear. Thank you for soothing an old woman’s heart.”

“Hey Odette! Is everything alright?” she heard Mary-Margaret call

It wasn’t alright, because she couldn’t save Ruth. She was the Savior… how could she not save her own grandmother? But she couldn’t let that slip, so she forced herself to look over at her with a smile. “Of course Snow. I was just giving Ruth her flowers.”

Standing beside her mother as she married her father was a strange sensation, but it was really making her think of all the sacrifices her family made so she (and the new baby) could come into the world. She thought about the nursery that was supposed to be hers, the unicorn mobile, being put into the wardrobe to escape Regina’s curse… and now Ruth’s sacrifice.

It made her so damn itchy to think about it, because she hadn’t exactly shown she cared.

She wanted to go home. Not to New York with Henry (and preferably Neal), but to Storybrooke. To her family.

Was this why the curse sent them here? So she could truly understand the impact of the sacrifices?

“Mother!” David suddenly said, the wedding ceremony complete and both of them looking so stupidly happy to be with each other. “We - mother?”

But it was too late.

Emma and Neal stayed back as David and Mary-Margaret rushed over to the cart, devastation on their faces - looks she’d only seen in the book after they’d sent her through the wardrobe.

Seeing it in person was worse.

“Emma - ” Neal murmured.

“I want to go home,” she whispered against his shoulder. “I want to go back to Storybrooke. I want my family - our family. I can’t believe I was so stupid to think about leaving.”

With her words, the ground suddenly opened beneath them, swallowing them into the golden light.

They landed in the barn they’d originally been sucked into. Everything in it looked the same, and Emma scrambled to her feet, hoping beyond anything that it was the same outside too. The baby’s big naming party was today, or at least, it should be.

“Baelfire! You found her, thank goodness!” she heard Hook call as they raced toward Granny’s. “They were about to send out a search party.”

“Just needed a pep talk, Hook, that’s all,” Neal said with a nervous cough.

Emma stepped inside, finding all the guests that had been invited mingling and laughing, and her parents looked up in relief.

“Mom, Dad,” she said as she threw her arms around them. It was the first time those words had left her mouth. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I just… needed to think about some things, and I realized how much you had to fight for your happy ending, and that… it includes me.”

“Mom?” Henry said, glancing up from the soda he was drinking. “Does that mean - ”

“That’s right kid… we’re staying here. We’re staying home.”

Her mother laughed in relief. “Thank goodness… you’re going to have a lot to teach your brother.”

“So what’s his name then?” Emma asked, sitting next to Henry in the booth.

Her mother smiled. “Thank you all for coming. David and I are thrilled to introduce you to our new son… Prince Derek.”

Emma exchanged a surprised glance with Neal, managing to hide her laughter in the cheers and applause from the rest of the crowd.

It seems they made an impression in the past after all.

#swanfire week 2023 #sfweek2023 #swanfire #emma swan #neal cassidy #ouat #fanfiction

[spartanguard]

sons of love and death, 7/13 {CSSNS 23}

Summary: After the Final Battle, Killian Jones had finally settled into his happily ever after with his wife and family. Until a new foe arrived in Storybrooke: the infamous Dorian Gray, who looks rather familiar—one might say identical—to the pirate, and he’s on a mission: to claim the powers of the Dark One for himself. There’s only one problem: the Dark One no longer exists. What follows is a journey of vengeance, revelations, magic, and finally facing down the darkness within himself that Killian thought he’d finally put to rest. [roughly canon divergent from 5B, though set post-canon] A/N: Greetings from band camp! But that won't stop me from updating my @cssns story! Hope everyone is having a great week! (As always, thanks to the best beta, @optomisticgirl​​​​ !) rated M | 5.1k words | AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Dorian hadn’t been seen since his encounter with Regina the previous morning, but Killian knew better than to let his guard down. Every time the bell rang in the library, Killian was alert, ready for the worst (even if logically he knew his twin wouldn’t announce his presence—though, they did share an affinity for melodrama…). And he’d put on his sword belt for the first time in ages, for both comfort and protection. 

He was reshelving a few books when the bell chimed again. He paused to listen, but was mildly surprised when Leroy’s voice rang out in the otherwise quiet library—and sounded more than grumpy. “What the hell, pirate?” 

Confused, Killian shoved the book in his hand on the shelf and quickly made his way to the lobby. “Watch the volume, mate,” he chastised. “What’s the problem?”

Leroy was glaring at him and huffing. “Don’t pretend you don’t know; I saw you! Taking a joyride on my boat this morning, using all my gas, and then you just left it adrift. It almost ran into the shipping lane!”

“Why would I take your dinghy when my ship is right there?” Killian countered. “It was probably my good-for-nothing brother.”

“Then why was he dressed like you? And I saw your hook!” 

He rolled his eyes; of course Dorian would find a new way to make trouble for him. “Well it wasn’t me! I’ve been here all day, and my wife can provide my alibi prior to that—in detail, if you’d like,” Killian threw back, biting back a smirk at the memory of what they’d gotten up to in bed that morning. 

“No thank you,” he responded, stepping back with his hands up. “Just—keep that asshole in check, okay?”

“He’s not my responsibility.”

“Whatever,” Leroy grumbled, and left as quickly as he’d arrived.

Killian was irked by the encounter. Not so much at Dorian’s antics, annoying though they were (and would probably need his attention at some point)—but he was somewhat perturbed by the fact that Leroy was so quick to assume it had been him. There was definitely a time he may have done that, but now? After everything in the past few years? Did the dwarf truly still think so little of him?

He shook his head; Leroy didn’t have much faith in anyone. It was just a stupid misunderstanding; perhaps he’d go down to the docks and see if he could use his powers, meager as they were, to tow the boat back into harbor. But it was nothing to be truly upset over, not on his end.

The day went on without further event and the encounter was nearly out of his mind when he ran into another dwarf outside the sheriff station. Sneezy was coming from the opposite direction and reached the door before he did, but then paused and faced him. 

“Uh, Captain,” he started, then characteristically sneezed. He went on after wiping his nose on his ever-present handkerchief. “I was about to report what happened earlier, but I’d be happy to settle now, if you want—if you’d rather Emma not know.”

“Know what?”

“About the rum you stole,” he said matter-of-factly. “You didn’t exactly hide it.”

Killian scoffed; he’d never been impressed by the rum selection at the pharmacy, nor was he desperate enough to shoplift subpar liquor. “I’ve been at the library all day, mate; you should hit up my lookalike for the cash. Or go ahead and report it; may as well add to his rap sheet.”

The dwarf tilted his head, confused. “But—your hook—and clothes—”

“—Are easy to replicate with magic like his,” Killian sighed. “Really, mate? I thought you knew me better.”

Sneezy at least looked a bit like his brother Bashful at that, then uttered a quick apology before nearly running back in the direction from which he’d come.

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose, again frustrated.

It didn’t stop there, though—on the entire walk from the station to Granny’s with Emma, he was on the receiving end of glares, muttering, and people keeping their distance. Granted, that was typical treatment from the gaggle of fairies they passed, given their history. 

But even mild-mannered Gepetto, upon his exit from the diner, turned suddenly angry at the sight of Killian and wasted no time getting in his face and yelling in his native tongue. Killian was skilled at languages but not well-studied in that one, save for a few curse words—all of which he heard in the tirade. 

The carpenter didn’t give Killian a chance to reply before storming off, leaving him fatigued and Emma confused. “What the hell was his problem?” she griped. 

“No clue—but I’m willing to bet it was my brother; that’s been happening all afternoon.”

“Ugh, that dick,” she cursed. “But can’t people tell the difference by now?”

“You’d think,” he sighed, knowing that didn’t mean a damn thing if a glamour spell was involved. 

“Sounds like he needs to be punched in his pretty nose to make sure it’s more obvious,” she suggested, stepping into Killian’s space and tapping his own nose.

“You think my nose is pretty?” he flirted back. 

“All of you is. Way more than him,” she assured him, then dragged him into the restaurant. 

He obviously knew he was innocent of the various misdemeanors he’d been accused of, and he was certainly no stranger to being a suspect. But that hurt feeling from earlier crept back up in him as he fielded side-eyed stares from his seat across from an oblivious Emma while they ate. 

Hadn’t he earned this town’s trust? Weren’t they well past any questioning of his actions? Yes, his history was rocky—but he’d literally died for the residents of Storybrooke. 

And it was no secret he had a doppelgänger running around. So the fact they were so quick to turn on him was far more painful than he’d like to admit.

“Babe? Your glass—are you okay?” Emma’s concerned voice pulled him from his morose thoughts, and he realized a whirlpool was threatening to spin out of his glass of water. 

“Sorry,” he answered quickly, and focused on calming the tiny maelstrom. “Just—thinking about everything,” he said, simplifying the truth. 

“I know.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Good thing you’ve got another magic lesson in the morning, huh?”

He groaned in response; she giggled. 

“Come on; let’s get you home. You’ll need your rest,” she said suggestively as she got to her feet, taking him with her, hinting that they would spend time not resting as well. 

The lascivious smirk Granny gave him as Emma paid their tab was less out of place than his other interactions today, but was at least positive. So he did still have some friends, it seemed. 

And as he and Emma finally collapsed in each other’s arms later, sweaty and sated, as long as she was still on his side, who else did he require?

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Though Dorian was no stranger to using a glamour spell, and had certainly used far more dramatic disguises in his life, this one was perhaps the most initially uncomfortable—mainly in how little changed. 

As it was, he and Killian were nearly mirror images to start with—what with their scars on opposing cheeks and the fact that they parted their hair on different sides. So to see such minor differences in his reflection was a somewhat out-of-body experience—this was close to what people actually saw when they looked at him. 

He allowed his minor existential crisis to persist for a minute before finishing the transformation; at least his brother had decent style, if a bit different than his own. (How could he stand these tight jeans?) The false hook over his left hand was awkward, but necessary. 

Anyways. It was time to see if he could pull this off; after all, he was far too wise not to do foolish things now and then. He headed down to the diner (after peeking around a corner to make sure neither Killian nor Emma were already there—though the fact that he’d slept in probably prevented that) and slipped onto a stool at the counter. 

This time, when Granny greeted him, it was much warmer. “Early lunch?”

“Aye; the usual, my dear,” he tested. “And I just couldn’t wait to see you,” he added with a wink. 

Granny blushed and chuckled, then shuffled off to the kitchen. Good; she was receptive to his flirting. If he was bold enough about it, surely that would stir up some ill will towards his brother; just what kind of man brashly flirted with a woman who wasn’t his wife? And there was a reasonable audience, even if mid-morning was somewhat slow. 

So hopefully someone noticed when he grabbed the bottle of whiskey sitting behind the counter and snuck it into his lap. 

A few minutes later, the older lady was back, sliding over a plate of fish and chips; predictable of his brother. “Fresh caught, extra vinegar on the chips—just how you like it.”

“Oh, you spoil me,” he replied, holding back a gag at the smell of the vinegar. He leaned across the counter, continuing, “If there’s anything I can do to repay you, you know where to find me,” then suggestively licking his lips. 

To his shock, she just laughed and patted his cheek. “You know you couldn’t handle me, sweetheart.” And went back to her business. 

Hm. Well, that wasn’t quite the response he expected. But he at least passed for Killian; that was a good sign. (Unfortunately, he had to sell it by actually eating this meal; thank the gods for the whiskey to wash it down.)

He headed down to the marina next, finding the easiest boat he could hotwire (which, with his magic, was all of them) and took a bit of a joyride, then poofed ashore when that got boring. 

After a trip through the pharmacy, where he got a five-finger discount on some mid-range rum, he relieved himself in the shrubs outside a convent, knocked over the displays outside the florist, pretended to need the services of the carpenter but just dumped wood stain over his wares, and dragged the tip of his hook along some parked cars. 

Briefly, he took a smoking break outside the elementary school and let the half-burnt cigarette fall into a bush outside a classroom, setting it alight. He was enjoying watching the slowly growing fire when the room’s window flew open and a petite woman with short, dark hair attacked it with a fire extinguisher. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” she snapped at him.

“No,” he answered succinctly, and transported away, hopefully leaving a scorch mark on the lawn, too.

He’d noticed a friendship between his brother and the librarian—the gorgeous woman who had seemingly questionable taste in men. He’d be shocked if the two of them had kept things purely platonic, despite their respective well-known relationships. And if they hadn’t…well, it was time for him to explore that, even if for his own enjoyment. 

The bell on the library rang as he entered. “You here, love?” he called out, suddenly realizing he’d never caught the lass’s name. 

“Right where you left me,” she shouted; shit, he forgot his brother worked here. That was a close call. He followed the sound of her voice to the next room, where he found her desperately trying to reach something on the top shelf. “Perfect timing; can you lend me a hand? Pun intended.”

“Ha,” he answered awkwardly, not sure if he should be acting offended or not. “But of course.”

He didn’t hesitate to grab the volumes she asked for, but rather than just hand them over, he took the opportunity to move into her space. “Oh, uh, thanks,” she said, trying to take a step back, but she didn’t get far before bumping into a cart. 

“That’s all my assistance is worth? ‘Thanks’?”

“Killian, you know I appreciate you—”

“So let me appreciate you, darling,” he said on a breath, leaning in close. “Don’t tell me you’ve never felt something…more…between us.” Subtly, he raised the blinds in the room so any passers by might see his attempted pursuit of someone who clearly wasn’t his brother’s wife. 

She looked up at him, lips parted, and he was aware of her heightened heart rate. She narrowed her gaze briefly. “No, I haven’t��Dorian.”

“Who’s Dorian?” he lied. 

Her knee found his crotch swiftly and strongly; she might be short and slight, but she was the perfect height to do optimum damage to his manhood. He stumbled back, dropping the books and holding his groin, groaning, with stars beginning to cloud his vision. 

“I can’t believe I almost fell for that,” she yelled. “You really thought I wouldn’t be able to tell?”

“Ah, but you almost did,” he countered, even though his voice was incredibly strained. 

He could see her blushing even through his squinted view. “Never,” she insisted, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as him. “I won’t do that, and I won’t help you.”

He scoffed as his breath started to come back. “What use are you to me? Just a silly librarian; even if you are married to the Dark One.”

She smirked. “I’m used to people underestimating me. I suggest you don’t again. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to that painting of yours, would you?”

“My painting?” He wasn’t surprised she knew of it—this was a library, obviously, if even the book he’d inspired was largely fabrication—but he’d left it behind in another realm, hoping the distance (and that particular realm’s timelessness) would prevent its aging, or at least slow it. 

But then—he felt it. A faint heartbeat in his ear, just a millisecond behind his own but the same tempo: the heart of his True Love, continuing to carry a rhythm for him even though it was shattered and locked in canvas. It seemed to be coming from above them; he glanced up, trying to locate it, but didn’t get very far before his gaze was forced away rather painfully.

Belle had slapped him—again, stronger than he expected, but he’d been hit so many times that it hardly stung. “Get the hell out of here, and leave us alone.”

“Alright, alright,” he replied, and immediately poofed away—right into the attic of the library. The drumbeat of the heart was even louder up here, and he was easily able to follow it—while stepping lightly enough to not make a sound—to one end of the cluttered storage room. 

And there it was: his iconic portrait. It…wasn’t pretty. Not that it had been when he’d stashed it in the Land of Untold Stories, but it had definitely continued to deteriorate, though thankfully less than it probably should have. There was part of his soul that certainly felt like the withered, grayed, gnarled mess of a man in the image before him, but only a small one.

Actually, it was a good thing the portrait had made its way here; perhaps, when he achieved his plan, he’d also be able to sever his tie to this in favor of the dagger. He’d leave it here for now—but he’d be back for it later.

He had at least one more stop to make. So he transported again to an alley by the sheriff station, knocked over a mailbox, and casually headed inside. While it would be fun to see how far he could take things with Emma, he had no doubt she’d be able to see through this disguise even quicker than the librarian had. But the other deputy, the blond one—he might be slower on the uptake.

“Hey, Hook,” the man said, barely glancing up from the paperwork he was filling out. “Emma’s doing rounds.”

“Aye; I’m aware,” he said, sauntering closer. “I was here to see you, anyway.”

“Yeah?” The man—David, judging by the name plate on the desk—looked up at him. “What’s up?”

Dorian wasted no time in taking a seat right in front of him on the desk, cupping his (rather handsome) face, and quickly finding his lips.

The ensuing chain of reactions was honestly hilarious: the other man stilled at first, then leaned into it, but then seemed to realize who he was kissing and pushed away, jumping to his feet.

“What the hell was that?” he spat, wiping off his mouth on the back of his hand.

Dorian hopped off the desk and moved closer to David. “I was always curious; you mean you weren’t?”

“No!” he shouted. “Not like—just, no!”

“Was I that bad?” Dorian flirted, tilting his head. 

“No, you were—not my son-in-law,” David sighed, realizing who he was talking to.

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Dorian replied. “And you’re only a halfway decent kisser.”

“My wife thinks I’m just fine,” David threw back, somewhat offended. “And if you’re trying to turn people against Killian, you’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

“You almost bought it.”

“Please; Killian only has eyes for Emma. Not that you’d know anything about True Love, I bet.”

Dorian glowered. “You don’t know anything about me, pal. Maybe get off your high horse with your generalizations.”

David stepped closer and put his hands on his hips; Dorian couldn’t help but feel like he was about to get a lecture. “I don’t know everything about you, but I’ve known enough people like you. I actually had a twin, too.”

“Oh? More than one of you? Must have been terribly dull.”

“Actually, you’d probably have gotten along with him famously; he was a selfish cad, too.”

“And where’s this fellow now?”

“Oh, he’s dead,” David went on. “From what I heard, he got a little too cocky, a little sloppy, and it came back to bite him. Or, well, stab him through the chest.”

“Ouch,” Dorian deadpanned. “And your point is?”

“Maybe you should ease up on making enemies. Because you don’t know which one is going to finally take you out.”

“And what—make friends instead?”

David shrugged. “Can’t hurt. Though I also can’t say you have good odds of finding many here, after all the drama you’ve stirred up so far.”

“No thanks.”

“Hey,” David said, softer, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’ve spent a long time chasing one thing, and it seems like you have nothing else to live for. But I watched your brother change his path; it’s not too late for you.”

Dorian gingerly pushed David’s hand off, like it was something disgusting. “Look, I know you hero types, and I know you mean well and want what’s best for me, or whatever. But I also know this: you have to want to change. Clearly my brother did. Me, though? I find good advice rather annoying. So save your breath.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I will, thanks.” And he transported back to his pilfered room at Granny’s.

His conversation with David was already forgotten; the deputy had probably hoped his words would linger and Dorian would reconsider his entire life. But no—he knew what he wanted.

And now, he just had to wait to see what fallout his (mis)adventures today wrought.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Late 1880s

Dorian stepped out of the portal onto a dirty cobblestone alley. Once the gateway closed behind him, he placed his second bean in his inner coat pocket for safekeeping, and sealed it with magic—which thankfully worked; he wasn’t sure what to expect as far as being able to normally access his powers in this so-called Land without Magic, but was glad to see they were so far unhindered.

Of course, the irony of this realm carrying that name was that he had come here seeking magic out. It wasn’t fully devoid, he could tell, but he’d heard that it was far-flung, infrequent, and hidden from the general populace.

Which was probably why it was so dark in this backstreet; what kind of uncivilized society hadn’t figured out proper outdoor lighting yet? He could see some primitive lanterns at the end of the way, on what looked to be a main street, but could smell the fuel in them from here.

As such, he conjured a fireball in his hand to get his bearings. He’d arrived in the corner of an alley that went between and behind buildings—great, grimy brick monstrosities. Some parchment sat atop abandoned crates along one side; he inspected closer, reading The Daily Telegraph across the top of the page, followed by a picture of a man identified as the Prince of Wales, which he had to assume was a meaningful title as no proper name was given.

He further studied the fashion of the man, then glanced down at his own clothes, which were decidedly not of this realm from what he could see. That was easy to fix, though, and with a wave of his hand, he was wearing a garment that closely resembled what he saw in the image: a coat with long-ish tails, slacks, and a waistcoat. He didn’t hate it, but the vest wasn’t quite his style. 

Anyways. That settled, he reached into a different pocket (he’d made sure the contents of those stayed the same regardless of what his jacket looked like) and pulled out a slip of paper with a name written on it: Basil Hallward. From what he’d been told, this man could help him find the magic he needed to get him one step closer to the Dark One’s powers.

(That Rumpelstiltskin bastard had placed so many protection spells over the Dark Castle, it was bordering on ridiculous. Didn’t he know it was once Dorian’s home? But no—the demon wouldn’t even grace him with a meeting to grant him access to his old quarters. Granted, he’d have been an idiot to, but one could hope. But perhaps here, in this land that seemed to reject magic, he’d find that which could break through those spells and reclaim his birthright.)

He glanced down both alleys in front of him. The one towards the street was empty—just brick walls and boarded-up windows—but going the other way, he could see a light glimmering outside an inconspicuous door. 

And if he wasn’t mistaken, the light in the lantern was not fueled by whatever oil illuminated the streets; no, this one was quite similar to the ball of fire in his hand. The portal had placed him in the right spot.

Before he headed to the door, he placed the slip of paper in his own flare, letting it fall to ashes on the stone pavement. Then he extinguished it with a shake of his hand and headed over.

Upon closer inspection, the lamp was indeed his variety of fire magic, though there seemed to be an object at the center of it that kept it burning. Clever, he thought; it meant less mental effort to keep it lit (not that he had to exert much anymore for such simple spells). 

The door itself was painted roughly to match the exterior wall—or it had been, once upon a time, and now was faded and flaking, but he could still make out where “B. Hallward” was written in yellowing letters.

He knocked, firmly and insistently, and then waited. He wasn’t naive enough to think he’d get an immediate answer, or even to think he’d be seen tonight, but there was also no sense waiting.

He listened close to the door for a minute or so, but if there was anything to hear, it was unnoticeable. Then he paced a bit, keenly aware of the sounds of his unfamiliar shoes tapping on the stones.

But after nearly 10 minutes, he had to concede that either Mr. Hallward was out for the evening, or didn’t wish to be disturbed. Well, surely a town of this size had a red-light district; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d spent a night in such an establishment (usually willingly). 

He began to walk towards the sounds of society, at the far end of this alley, when he paused; he thought he heard the turn of a deadbolt. He turned back to look at the door; it was still shut, but the color of the flame in the lantern had changed to blue. Curious.

He moved closer to it, and to his surprise, a small window appeared from nowhere. There was no glass inside it, but he could see nothing but blackness behind it. “Yes?” a voice called out from the void.

“Basil Hallward?” he asked.

“Who wants to know?” the voice replied.

“Someone who has traveled a great distance to seek you out.”

The voice cursed, probably realizing he’d revealed his identity without meaning to. “What for?” he finally came back with.

“A bit of magic,” he answered, then called forth his own fire again.

The window disappeared and the door swung open. “Come in,” the other man called out; Dorian didn’t hesitate to oblige.

Whatever he was expecting—this wasn’t it. Despite whatever spell lay on the entryway—and he could feel it as he stepped through—it was actually fairly light inside, with more enchanted lamps around the open space, which revealed the absolute clutter everywhere. And, to the back of the room, what appeared to be a painter’s studio. 

“You’re an artist?” he exclaimed, minorly disgusted. 

“That I am, sir,” the other man replied, and Dorian finally got a look at him: he seemed young—younger than him, at least—and the narrow mustache above his lip did nothing to make him appear older. He pushed his dark, curly hair out of his equally dark eyes. “What of it?”

“I came here looking for magic,” Dorian spat. “Not to sit for my portrait.”

“A pity; you’d make an excellent subject, with that profile. But I do both, actually.”

“Both?” He raised an eyebrow, skeptic.

“Aye; let me show you.” Basil beckoned Dorian towards his work bench; he hesitantly followed. The man picked up a vial of what Dorian assumed was pigment off the cluttered surface. He uncorked it and held it out. “Do you recognize it?”

Dorian narrowed his gaze and peered inside. It was just a black powder, but he recognized the smell. “Adder’s fork?”

“Good eye,” Basil commended. “And this?” he asked, holding out a small dish with a bluish powder. 

“Mermaid scale,” Dorian identified. “I don’t understand.”

“Magic works differently in this realm,” Basil explained. “No one here is born with it inherently, but what makes its way here usually requires a conduit—some physical tether. Me, I learned how to embed it in my paint, using these ingredients.”

“And then what?”

“Whatever you want,” Basil answered. “Within reason, of course.” He showed off a portrait of an expectant mother, explaining that the woman and her husband had been trying to have children for several years when he painted her; “Now, she has three children and another on the way.” Another painting displayed a vagabond sitting on a street curb. “His wife discovered he was cheating on her; now he’s destitute and she kept his wealth.”

“So you grant wishes?”

“In a sense. A fertility spell was embedded in this portrait, a curse of ill-luck in the other.”

Dorian glanced back at the work space and saw a good number of potion books—many of them he knew—across a bookshelf above it. “Ahhh,” he sighed in understanding. “Then you likely don’t have what I’m after.”

“Which is?”

“A way to break into a heavily fortified castle?”

Basil shook his head. “Afraid not. But if you have something of its occupant’s, we could probably find a way to cast them out, or at least make them horridly uncomfortable.”

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be here.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Hope you didn’t come far, then.”

“Only a few realms away.”

Basil whistled low. “Then I at least owe you a drink. What’s your poison?”

“Whiskey?”

He nodded and led him over to a sitting area, where they proceeded to chat over (some damn fine) liquor. Basil was curious about the magical realms—he had some acquaintances who passed through the other worlds who supplied him with his materials, but had never been himself. Dorian wondered how he’d fallen into this line of work, then. 

“The man I apprenticed with taught me; passed on all he knew.” Well, that sounded familiar. 

As such, they got on famously, to the point that Basil offered Dorian use of a spare bedroom in his home for as long as he was staying in this realm. 

What the hell, Dorian thought. The Dark One wasn’t going anywhere—he could enjoy himself for a bit. (It wasn’t like he ever needed an excuse to do so.)

For the next few weeks, Basil showed him about this curious town—London, it was called, and far larger than he realized—and introduced him to many interesting people (and vices; opium was a delight, though he saw enough of the strung-out folks addicted to it to use in moderation).

They went to countless parties, gatherings, concerts, sporting events. At one such dinner, he met a writer named Oscar who seemed to be infatuated with him; he couldn’t say he disliked the attention. The man became a regular fixture in their outings as well (and maybe a few private nights). 

Dorian did oblige Basil to pose for a portrait eventually; far be it for him to deny the world his beauty. “And what enchantment will you weave into this one?” he asked, peering over his friend’s shoulder; Basil had finished painting his face and form, but nothing else yet. 

“None,” Basil replied simply. “You have enough magic on your own. 

(There may also have been a few nights he spent in Basil’s room, as well. He was hardly a choosy lover, so long as someone caught his interest.)

He smirked cockily at the praise and admired his face and form on the canvas. Basil was truly a gifted artist and, in his personal opinion, had perfectly captured Dorian’s handsomeness, strength, and form, down to the color of his eyes. 

However, later that night as he readied for bed, he caught a glimpse of something new in his reflection in the looking glass: was that…a wrinkle?

He pulled at the flesh around his eyes, watching as it stretched and returned. Indeed, there was a fine line—a few, even—in that delicate skin. 

He was 30 years old; he knew it was inevitable he began to look it (even if he dare say he looked better than most men his age). But it was a sudden, stark reminder: the being he was chasing was immortal; he, however, was not. 

(There was probably some sage advice somewhere about avoiding vice to extend his longevity, but…where was the fun in that?)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading! tagging some peeps (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic​ @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @thisonesatellite​ @killianmesmalls​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @ineffablecolors​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet​ @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook @jrob64​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​ @resident-of-storybrooke @bluewildcatfanatic

#cs ff #killian jones ff #cssns 2023 #captain swan supernatural summer #sons of love and death #my ff

[hollyethecurious]

Stats Tag Game

I was tagged by the lovely @kmomof4 and @the-darkdragonfly

Rules: A list of my fics with the most hits, most kudos, most comments, most bookmarks, most words, and the least words.

(However, being the pirate that I am, I'm totally commandeering Kay's idea of adding more categories) 😘

Most Hits: Dark Hook Comes to Storybrooke with 25,426 hits (co-written with @winterbaby89)

Fic with the most hits that was no co-written is Keeping him Occupied with 13,764

Most Kudos: dhcts again with 982. Runner-up is The Legend of Captain Killian Jones with 567

Most Comments: dhcts also has the most comments with 544 (but in fairness, many of those are Laura's and my replies). The Cottage has the most of my solo fics with 279, but again... my replies are included in that number.

Most Bookmarks: I know this will be shocking, but with 375 dhcts has the most, followed by TLoCKJ with 211

Most Words: dhcts is the longest with 148,808 words (again, shared with @winterbaby89). Most words from a solo written fic goes to We Make Our Own Fate with 69,614.

Least Words: I'm not known for my brevity, but I do have shorter fics. My shortest is probably in my Knightrook Drabbles, Prompts, and Shorts collection (which totals 562 words), or one of my other compilation works, however, at 696 words Who Would Ever Remember Him Now is the shortest of those works posted on their own.

My pillaged additions from @the-darkdragonfly

Least Comments: My Knightrook Drabbles, Prompts, and Shorts collection has zero comments, however, the one with the least amount that I wish had more because I do love it is Try Something New which only has 2 comments.

Least Kudos: Again, the knightrook collection with only 7 kudos. Least amount of kudos for a fic I wish got more love would be Until We Meet Again with 40 kudos

Least Hits: I'm starting to feel bad for knightrook. The one I wish had more would be The Witch the Wood. Then again... it is kind of a tease fic that I don't really have plans of expanding on, so... maybe 458 hits is just fine??

Least Bookmarks: To the shock of no one, the Knightrook collection wins again. I myself do not use the bookmark function on ao3, so I'm not fussed by those numbers in my stats.

I know this has been going around, so I apologize if you've already been tagged, but...

@winterbaby89 @wyntereyez @killian-whump @stahlop @darkcolinodonorgasm @artistic-writer @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64, and anyone else who has not been tagged!

#tag game

[cs-c-ocktoberfest2023]

prompt #2: One Night Stand

One Night in Neverland (rated E)

After tossing and turning for what feels like an eternity, Emma gives up on falling asleep. As she pulls on her boots, she wonders how the rest of them can sleep through the sound of wailing children.

She can see Hook sitting on a log, staring into the flames as she stumbles over the uneven ground toward the campfire; he only looks up when a twig cracks under her foot. “Hey,” she says awkwardly, leaning against the rock he abandoned.

“‘Evening, Swan,” he replies, holding his flask of rum out as a greeting. She accepts it gratefully, uncorking the top and taking a longer pull than he expected, because his eyebrows rocket up in amusement. “Bloody hell, I was being a gentleman! Save some for me, will you?” Killian teases, and the tension is immediately broken.

A short while later, they’re sitting on top of his coat, snacking on raw coconut as they pass the rum back and forth, gossiping about Storybrooke.

“It’s true! They had a one-night stand! You know, there’s a famous book all about him where I come from, a novel called 'Frankenstein'. We were supposed to read it in high school, but I didn’t, ‘cause it’s really long,” she admits, trying to use her palms to show him how thick the novel was. She’s having trouble — being more than a bit tipsy — so she gives up, chuckling as she lets her hands drop gracelessly into her lap.

“I think it might be time to switch to the coconut water, love,” he suggests with his own loopy grin; after all, it had been a hot day and they’re both probably more dehydrated than he’d thought.

“Fine, you spoilsport!” Emma grumbles, but by the time he turns back to her, his hook already piercing a coconut from the pile they gathered earlier, she has a smug grin on her face, like she knows a big secret and can’t wait to spill it.

“What?” Killian asks, completely delighted at how carefree Emma’s been feeling all night. With her inhibitions lowered just slightly by rum and a long day, she’s finally able to relax, like the weight of the world and its expectations has been lifted from her shoulders.

“I wanna play a game…” is all she says, but the way Emma lowers her voice to a sultry purr makes him feel things he’s been trying to avoid since they climbed a beanstalk together.

“Eh, you’ll have to be a bit more specific, Swan,” he stalls, as his rational brain fights with months and months of intense sexual frustration. They’re basically alone, and she looks even more beautiful than usual, the firelight making her skin glow and her hair shine like spun gold.

Instead of answering, Emma grabs the coconut from his hand and lifts it to her lips, maintaining eye contact as she drinks. The way she’s letting a tiny bit of juice dribble down her chin as she swallows mesmerizes him, and he bites down hard on his lower lip to stifle a thoroughly indecent groan.

“Have you ever heard of ‘Marco Polo’?” Emma asks, and even though the question makes no sense to him, he’ll go along with anything she wants tonight.

“I can’t say that I have. Why?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s the name of a hide-and-seek game you play in the water…” she tells him playfully, knocking his shoulder with her own.

“You want to go swimming in the dark? That’s not the safest idea, Swan.” he teases her, stretching his legs out as he leans against the flat boulder behind them.

“Oh please, there’s plenty of moonlight! We wouldn’t be gone that long, and I know that you’ll like the game I have in mind…” Emma says, sounding marvelously sultry, and before he realizes what’s happening she’s up on her knees straddling his hips, her hands gently pressing on his shoulders. She’s hovering several inches above his lap, waiting to see how he responds.

“Are you sure this is what you want, Emma?” Killian whispers, squeezing her left hip and searching her eyes for haziness. He’s aching for her, but there’s no way he’d take advantage, especially after all the rum. She leans in, maneuvering herself low enough to meet his eyes, but not low enough for contact. It’s an impressive display of balance.

“Yes. I’m not drunk either, if that’s what you’re worried about…” she tells him, and as if to prove her point, she grinds herself down against him, never taking her eyes off of his.

That’s all it takes for Killian’s self control to snap. Growling, he loops his hooked arm around her waist and draws her impossibly close. They’re both panting now, and the heat coming off her body is driving him crazy with desire. He’d bend her over this rock and take her right now if her parents weren’t sleeping just a dozen paces away.

She shivers, stroking his scruffy cheek. “Ooh, a bit possessive, aren’t we? Don’t worry, Hook, I’m into it— I definitely need a break from all of this bullshit.” she murmurs, gesturing to the oppressive jungle that surrounds them. Killian gives her the most sinful grin before kissing her fiercely and thrusting his hips up to meet hers at the same time.

Emma didn’t think it was possible, but he’s an even better kisser than he was a few days ago. She’s exhilarated and light-headed from the way his lips and tongue feel like they were made to fit with hers, and the thought of those lips and that tongue roaming over her body sends a frisson of desire straight to her core.

“Really? For most of the time we’ve known each other, I thought you found me loathsome.” he says against the skin of her neck, trailing his lips all the way down to her shoulder. At first, Emma giggles at his touch, but the noises she’s making turn into breathy gasps as he gently bites and nips on the skin there. At the same time, his hand drifts up from her hip, lightly grazing the curve of her breast. She can tell he’s holding himself back from taking control; she’s going to let him, but not yet.

“I never loathed you, I just didn’t trust you. Now you’re helping us find Henry, so I know that you have a good heart.” she confesses, and she loves watching his expression soften. After what he revealed in the Echo Cave, she knows that he cares deeply for her, but the chaos of life in Storybrooke hasn’t exactly given them much of a chance to get to know each other. They’ll make up for lost time now, Emma decides, and from the way he’s looking at her, she’s pretty sure he’s thinking the same thing.

For his part, Killian is trying desperately to let Emma take the lead for their first official liaison, but it’s proving difficult. The way she melts into his touch, the sounds he’s learning to elicit from her with a stroke here, a bite there… It would be so easy to do what he’s done for centuries and seduce her until she’s a panting, quivering vessel for him to spend himself inside, but this is Emma.

He wants to cater to every one of her desires, but are so many ways for him to muck it all up.

The worst part is knowing why he is so fearful. Killian is utterly and completely besotted with this woman, but for him, love has always led to pain. Somehow, Emma Swan broke through his fortifications, and now she holds his heart. He yearns to be connected to her with his whole body and soul, which is something he isn’t sure he’s ever felt before, even with Milah.

“We should probably find somewhere more private to continue our…conversation. The pond we passed a short while back would be an ideal spot, but are you certain that you trust me, Emma?” Killian asks her with a rasp, his voice laden with emotion and lust. When she nods, scratching her fingers in gentle circles through the hair at the nape of his neck, he eases her off of his lap and helps her to her feet.

���Let’s get the hell outta here, captain.”

—————-

With a full moon to illuminate their path, it’s only a few minutes’ journey to the pond. Killian remembers it from his previous time in Neverland, so it’s a safe and reliable place to let off some steam.

“Hmm…I think we should take a quick dip, turn the temperature down a bit. I could feel how overheated you are, right here.” he teases, pointing to the spot where her neck meets her shoulder before drawing her hair back to press hot, open-mouthed kisses from her neck down to where her breasts are hidden underneath her tank top and bra. With her moans of encouragement, he yanks on one side and she on the other, exposing her chest to his hungry gaze. She fumbles with the hooks, barely managing to throw the bra to one side before he’s on her, palming her breast on one side, while drawing the other nipple into his mouth.

“Oh fuck, that feels good.” Emma groans, tugging at his hair. It isn’t long before he switches sides, leaving her chest pink from his enthusiastic attention.

Biting her lip with anticipation, Emma pops the button of her jeans and shimmies out of them before she loops her arms around his neck and reaches up to kiss him, making sure to press their chests together. On pure instinct, she hooks one of her legs up near his hip and he gets the message immediately, grabbing hold of her thigh with his hand to hoist her up into his arms. She wraps her other leg securely around him without breaking their kiss, and he moans into her mouth, walking them over to the water.

Easing her down to her feet, he turns away sheds his coat, spreading it out in case she gets cold. He also removes his vest along with his hook and brace since the water will hide his ancient, unsightly injury.

When he returns, Emma has already shed the remainder of her clothing and is fully submerged in the water. She looks up at him, giggling, and splashes some water in his direction. “Get in here, you pirate!” She orders, and he laughs, quickly stripping off his boots and trousers. She immediately locks her gaze on his erection, happy for the chance to leer at him for once, and he gives her a wicked smirk.

“Darling, would you mind turning around for a moment?”

“Why?” Emma asks playfully, thinking he’s up to no good.

“I don’t - I don’t want you to have to look at this bloody stump at the end of my arm.” Killian says, discomfort and shame suddenly evident in his eyes.

“No.” Emma refuses, and he practically does a double take, as if he’s offended that she would subject herself to the part of him that he hates the most.

“But why? You don’t have to see it, ever. I can promise you that.” he insists, keeping his unsightly arm covered with his shirt. Emma looks at him with nothing but acceptance and caring in her eyes, motioning for him to just get in the water. With a nod he obeys, dropping his shirt on the ground beside their pile of clothing, and slips into the water.

“Killian,” she begins quietly, winding her arms around his neck once he reaches her, his eyes wide with apprehension. “If I didn’t accept all of you, even the parts you don’t like as much, then I wouldn’t be here. Your hook, and what happened to you… it’s a part of who you are. I like that guy a lot, so please don’t assume that I can’t handle it, ok?”

At first, all he can do is gawk at her, feeling so lucky that this magnificent woman simply accepts him as he is. But when she starts to kiss him, her fingers running through his hair and her legs wrapping around his hips, his mind descends into the gutter. He wants to touch her everywhere, rooting out that secret spot guaranteed to make her scream; he wants to taste every inch of her with his tongue, getting her so worked up that her cunt squirts right into his mouth; he wants to bury himself so deep inside her that they black out from the friction they built together.

The sound of his name falling from her lips in breathy moans and the small, confident hand wrapped around his length brings his attention back where it belongs. “Emma, tell me what you want, please.” he begs, thrusting gently into her hand. She smiles and shakes her head, squeezing him as she moves her hand faster. Soon he’s pressing his forehead against her shoulder, muttering her name as he tries to hold onto his control.

“Ok, I think I’m ready now,” she tells him shyly, releasing him from her grip. He lifts his head to look at her, still in a haze from the wonderful things she was just doing with her hand. “Killian, I want to get out of the water this instant, and I want you to fuck me on top of that coat of yours.” she tells him bluntly, and his eyes light up as his eyebrows waggle in all sorts of suggestive ways.

“Your every wish is my command!” he answers, and she doesn’t even have time to roll her eyes before they’re back on the shore. The warm night air feels good against Emma’s cool skin as she stands, drip-drying while he lays the coat out on a grassy spot, reaching for her hand once he’s finished.

Now that they’re finally, actually about to do this, Emma feels a pang of nerves in her gut. She lies down on the surprisingly soft leather, parting her knees wide enough to give him space, and he brackets her head with his forearms, leaning down to capture her lips in an urgent kiss.

“Gosh, I have the funniest feeling I’ve been in this position before…” Emma muses with a smile when they break apart. She catches her breath as he runs his nose down the column of her neck, pausing to enjoy the view before he ravishes her chest. She’s so turned on that her nipples are stiff and sensitive, leaving her writhing for his attention. Killian knows what she wants, so when he looks up at her she whines his name, pushing his head back down.

“See, I knew it wasn’t just a one-time thing, Emma. It’s so refreshing to be with a woman who knows what she wants.” he growls, before biting and sucking and squeezing her breasts so eagerly that Emma actually feels herself dripping with arousal.

She’s almost thirty years old and it’s the first time in her life that she’s ever felt this good. She has to tell him, so she tugs hard on his already mussed hair.

“Killian, please don’t stop… I’ve never been more turned on in my whole life,” she pants desperately, biting her lower lip as she arches her back.

“Really?” he purrs with a satisfied grin, launching himself forward to lavish attention to her fully exposed throat. “I’m not sure I can accept that based on hearsay, so I really must investigate.” As he kisses her again, she can feel his fingers sliding slowly, deliberately, down her side. He pauses at her hip, snaking his hand back to squeeze her ass.

Emma wasn’t expecting that, and she bucks her hips up in frustration. “Just touch me, Hook, please please please…” she moans softly, and she hears his sharp intake of breath as he presses a finger into her overheated center.

“Bloody hell, Emma. You’re incredible, just gorgeous…” he groans, quickly adding a second finger and pumping them, slowly at first. Her reaction to his touch is mind-blowing — and Killian has seen his fair share of aroused women over his unnatural lifespan — the way she rolls her hips, and the sounds that fall from her lips are the most powerful aphrodisiac he’s ever experienced. He has always enjoyed watching the women he’s pleasured in this way, but can’t think of another time when he’s ever wanted to coax an orgasm from anyone else so badly. Maybe it has something to do with Emma’s magic, but whatever it is, the urge makes him as vulnerable to her whims as a siren.

Emma isn’t even capable of thinking straight. She’s going completely on instinct, eyes closed so she can concentrate on chasing the amazing high. Whether she’s feeling all of this based on his skill, or if there’s something about being in this realm, she doesn’t know or care.

“More,” she commands with a thrust of her hips, and he adds a third finger, curling them so he can hit that spot for her as quickly as possible.

“That’s it, Swan. Take what you need, I want to see you fall apart.” Killian urges, and when he starts rubbing circles over her clit, she cries out so wantonly that he almost loses control of himself. She’s gone after that, fucking herself on his hand while he bends forward, whispering filthy things in her ear. When she finally explodes, clamping down hard on his fingers, Emma buries her teeth in his shoulder to muffle her pleasure-filled moans.

She resurfaces, after taking a little bit of time to bask in the afterglow. A sigh of contentment escapes her lips, and she glances over to see Killian lying on his side next to her. She’s never seen a bigger smirk on his face, and he hasn’t even had his turn yet.

“Holy shit, that was amazing! I’m thinking ‘thank you’ doesn’t quite cover it.” Emma breathes, pulling herself up to sit. She takes a moment to rove her eyes over his muscular build, which is usually all covered in leather. When she reaches his cock, which looks so hard that it might be painful, she licks her lips in anticipation.

“The pleasure was all mine, believe me,” he tells her with a genuine smile, trailing his hand up and down her thigh. “Now, do you think we should get back to camp, or is there something else you wanted to do?”

“No, we can’t go back yet, because I’m not finished with you, Jones,” she sasses, reaching down to stroke his length. He groans, threading his fingers through her hair as he pulls her down for a passionate kiss. She draws back for a moment, shoving her hair out of her face. “Now tell me, pirate, where would you like me?”

“So bossy,” he tuts while he sits up, pulling her back onto his lap. “If you must know, I’d like to watch you fuck me.”

Emma smiles, pushing on his chest so he’ll lie back down. “Your wish is my command…” she tells him cheekily, straddling him as she slides her wetness over his cock, grinding her pelvis in circles against him. He’s hot and hard as a rock, and they both moan at the friction. When Killian sweeps a finger against her clit, he’s gratified to feel a rush of slickness and a deep moan as she draws herself to her knees, descending to envelop him in her warmth, inch by inch.

“Fuck…” he gasps, feeling her core stretch to accommodate his size, staying still until she begins to move above him, rolling her hips. He catches her hip and she presses her palms against his chest as they establish a rhythm, moving slow and deep and steady. They learn each other’s bodies quickly, staying close as they take turns kissing and stroking, moving faster as the fire builds between their bodies.

“Killian! Oh god, right there!” Emma cries, changing the angle so that she’s almost hovering over his chest, gripping his shoulders as she speeds up, chasing her orgasm. Her breasts are practically in his face, so he draws a nipple into his mouth, losing himself in the warmth and softness of the woman above him. Emma must like what he’s doing, because her fingers dig into him almost painfully, and the sounds she’s making fall into rhythm with his thrusts.

Killian feels her inner muscles gripping his cock, and as she tightens he speeds up the pace, wanting to prolong her enjoyment while he’s reaching his own peak. They’re both gasping and moaning, racing toward an explosion. Moments later, Emma shatters over him with a throaty wail, hurtling Killian over the edge with her. He calls her name as he comes, and he feels her tightening up again, her walls contracting around his cock as she drains him completely.

Emma collapses on top of him as her muscles give out, and they both lie still, hearts thudding against one another. Her hair is in his mouth, which makes it harder for him to breathe, but he just wraps his arms around her, encouraging her to relax in his hold.

He knows that the closeness can only last so long, so he wants to grab every moment he can get. The euphoria that runs through their veins slowly ebbs away, and after a minute more, Emma begins to distance herself, rolling away as their shared moment draws to a close.

“That was exactly what I needed to take the edge off the stress I’ve been feeling,” she tells him with a tired smile and a pat on the chest. “I’m just really grateful, Killian.”

He musters up a drowsy smile for her, even though her words slice through him like a knife. “Of course, Swan.”

Emma slips back into her clothing, and mutters something about cleaning up as she goes over to the water’s edge. Killian dresses more slowly, knowing that Emma should be back first, as David is due to take the next watch soon.

She squeezes his shoulder as she passes by, acknowledging their silent pact. Killian doesn’t need to be told explicitly: he’ll return to the campsite a few minutes later, ensuring that Emma is back on her bedroll before he wakes David up.

Just before he leaves, Killian takes a moment to stretch, looking out over the moonlit pond as he contemplates his next moves. First, they have to rescue the boy, and he knows that Emma can and will get the job done. After that’s done, he’ll get the whole damn group back to Storybrooke, where he can start working to win Emma’s heart.

He knows this wasn’t just a one-time thing.

#cscf23 #captain swan #cs smut #cs(c)ocktoberfest2023 #cs ff