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yoke9494 · 2 months

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Why not me? (Draken)

Wattpad Request (AU-ish)

*Smut!

*Hurt no comfort.(Don't have much experience with it. Sorry if it's bad.)

*We love Emma around here! But not in this one..

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"Are you sure? I mean-- don't think I'm like that but I can always ask someone else? One of the girls?.. You're just someone I trust y'know..."

You shook your head. "No it's okay. I-- I think it'll be better with a girl your age? Besides, I trust you too so.."

Those deep dark eyes stared into yours. Draken was so handsome. Did he find you pretty? Beautiful? You'd never know..

Those words only came out when he talked about someone else. Emma..

Emma. Emma. Emma.

That was the only female he ever talked about. A soft blush would spread on his cheeks, he'd smile from ear to ear.. The way his eyes lit up, small hearts replacing his pupils.. His eyes never did that around you.. He never blushed when your name was brought up.

Why not you? You've known Draken since, well forever. You both had this bond.

You see, both your mother's abandoned you- You both grew up together and took care of one another. The brothel was your home-- You were his "family" but he was your everything..

You were inseparable! Hip attached to hip. Peas in a snuggly little pod.

It felt as if a relationship slowly began to grow. Sleepovers in the same bed, you'd wake up to Draken holding you.. When you both went out in public he'd hold your hand to keep you close. That was a thing you did in a relationship right?! Maybe next week you'd find an excuse to kiss his cheek.

Maybe you'd find the courage to tell him how you really felt?

But that kiss never came.. That confession stayed with you.

Why? You may ask..

Well, Emma came into the picture... And your Draken was gone. He wasn't yours anymore..

The excuses to no longer be around you began to pour in..

"Oh, sorry Y/n. Emma invited me to see that movie already."

"Sorry can't make it. Emma wants me to go shopping with her."

"See ya. I'm going to Mikey's to see him and hopefully Emma."

"You like my shirt? I know it's not my usual color, but Emma got it for me. I hate my other clothes now." (*You helped him pick most of them out..*)

"Emma wants me to stay away from junk food. Have fun at the new restaurant though!"

"... You can't go with me. Emma thinks its weird we hang out so much. I can't ruin my chance with her.. You understand right?"

"I think we should stop being friends.. The only woman I should be focused on is Emma.."

After that it seemed like he was avoiding you every chance he could. Even going as far as moving into another room far away from yours.

Which is why you were surprised when Draken showed up at your door in the middle of the night. It's been months since you've talked to him. Not even a small "hi" here and there when you passed one another in the brothels halls.

You usually just got a cold stare over his shoulder..

But Draken looked different.. Sad? He stood there for a good while just staring at you.

"I need your help."

This is where you turn him away. Treat him the way he's been twords you. Tell him you only help out friends who wouldn't abandon you over another female!

But Of course.. The sad excuse you had for a heart didn't let you.

Anything for him. He looked so lost? Scared? You didn't hesitate to let him into your room. You missed him so much..

But the words that left his mouth. Those words felt like a million needles to your heart.

"I kissed Emma today. She didn't say I was a bad kisser... But the look on her face-- She looked disappointed-"

He rambled on..

But you couldn't help but think-- Even if he was a bad kisser you'd never tell him about it. You'd enjoy anything he'd want to do with you. You'd teach him, he'd teach you.. you'd learn together.

Your ears were beginning to ring. You nearly told him to get out.

Emma. Emma. Emma.

Did he realize he was just happily ripping out your heart? Oh these next words stung like a million pieces of glass cutting into your chest.

"She wants to take it further. She wants to-- Y'know... Have sex?.. I'm scared."

Oh you knew. And you were going to be sick! You could understand the nerves, but you couldn't understand the fear? You weren't supposed to be scared of sex when you were with someone you supposedly loved.. Why couldn't he see that?

Draken continued. "What if I'm not good at it? She might not want to be my girlfriend if I'm not good at it. I need help, that's why I'm here. I don't want to be a lonely loser all my life--"

Again! What about you?! You were right here in front of him! Even if he was bad at it, you'd still enjoy it because it was him! You love him. You'd learn together... It's not like you were an expert but practice makes perfect right?

You'd cherish it...

"Can I practice with you? I know it's probably gross of me to ask cause you're-- you? But you're the only girl I trust.-- besides Emma."

+++++++++++

You should have said no.. But that heart shaped lense over your eyes fogged your brain. You wanted him to be your first, you wanted him to take your everything..

For a second you really felt like he wanted to be here with you. That he wanted the same..

His hands were gentle against your skin. His lips soft against yours.. He groaned into your mouth while he laid between your legs and rutted his hard length into your cunt.

He was rubbing against your clit, making your poor underwear a wet sticky mess. He was sloppy with no rhythm but because it was Draken. You almost came either way..

But he seemed to have gotten bored.

It only took a second as he finally yanked your panties off. You swore you heard a choked moan get caught in his throat when he used his thumbs to spread you open.

You were getting a little flustered at his staring.. What was he thinking?

-- the sight was beautiful to him...

Even though it was dark in your room. The only light coming from a small fish tank you had in the corner. He could see how wet you were, already dripping down to your bed sheets.

Was it all for him? Because of him?

He knew you were untouched, always saying you were waiting for someone special... But Emma was already experienced. She didn't need all the so called prep right?

So neither did you..

You really wished you would have known that he wasn't seeing YOU right now. Maybe if you got it into his head that you weren't Emma, it would be different? He'd be gentle?

But it was too late..

Before you knew it your legs were thrown over his shoulder and he was lining himself up to your entrance.

"Draken--"

It hurt. But you couldn't help but force yourself to think that it was okay... You should have spoken up if it wasn't. You're safe, he wouldn't hurt you on purpose..

You almost felt relieved when he leaned down to kiss you. To distract you from the pain as he bullied the rest of himself into you.

You felt his thumbs wiped away your tears before his lips left yours to kiss them away.

You felt the heat pool in the pit of your stomach as Draken groaned from your tightness.

"You feel so good Emma.."

But that wasn't your name, you weren't Emma.

But that didn't matter. It was for him..

Draken began to move when you let out a choked whine. He mistook the sound of hurt feelings for a sound of eagerness, of want..

His cock slowly dragged in and out of your entrance. Almost fully unsheathed before he shoved himself all the way back in. His thighs met your ass with a sticky *plop* over and over again.

At first he had no rhythm once again but quickly started getting the hang of it.

You moaned his name though you felt nothing. You wanted to feel him the way he felt you. But you just couldn't-- doesn't it start feeling good after a while?

His moans were low and deep. They almost tricked you into thinking you were his, that he wanted you.

If he was seeing you, you had no doubt that his sounds alone would send you over the edge.

"I love you Emma."

You weren't Emma! But you still sucked in a breath. "I love you too.."

He began to speed up and you forced your face into the pillows. Praying that he was too lost in his pleasure to see you cry.

"Fuck Emma."

His thumb found your sticky clit. You felt a small sense of pleasure as he made lazy circles around your nub. He was dragging out your pleasure for you..

This wasn't right.

Your back arched and it caused his hips to shift. Your eyes rolled when his cock hit that sensitive spot deep inside you.

See, you were learning together.

"You like that Emma? Your griping me so tight now."

Gods you wished he would shut up already. Did she like hearing her name this much?! Was she that conceded? Or was he just obsessed?

He was yours first.. it should be your name he repeats like a prayer.. It should be your name that gets stuck in his head like a favorite song..

Draken was stunned when he felt your soft hands harshly push against his chest. He was shoved out of you and his oncoming high was ruined..

Did he hurt you?-- for a second he actually saw you.. Did he hurt his friend--

He made a small noise when he was thrown on his back. Biting his lower lip when you slowly crawled on top of him.

But the heart shaped lenses that covered his own eyes changed what was in front of him. Your hair turned into a beautiful blonde, your eyes turned into the same yellow doe ones that made him weak.. Your face changed into the one he was doing all this for.

He pushed the feeling of this being all wrong into the pit of his stomach as you slowly slid down on his dick.

The room was filled with the sticky *splat* of your pleasure that slicked up his length and abdomen.

Your mouth slack as you threw your head back and used him for your own enjoyment.

' Emma you look so beautiful like this.. '

He didn't voice his words this time. Something told him it was wrong to do so.

"Oh fuck."

His words were low and husky as his fingernails dug into the soft flesh of your thighs. He wasn't sure what you had done just now but the way you bounced and scooted on his cock made his toes curled and a shock of pleasure raced up his spine.

He swore the sounds you were making were going to be the end of him. He could feel himself getting hotter the louder you got.

You were going too fast now. He wanted to watch you use him forever. His high hit him so fast that he had his heels digging into the mattress, teeth bared, and eyes going white.

Your name almost came out of his mouth. The first syllable! But he quickly caught himself-- "Emma.."

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What was there to say? How do you look at one another now.

It was a mistake.

You hid your face as he changed into his clothes. You choked down the tears--

You were going to tell him. You needed to tell him that you loved him with your entire being. That if he'd just give your relationship a chance you'd move mountains for him.

Draken turned to you with regret in his eyes. His mouth opened and closed due to his phone ringing..

You could already tell who it was. The light in his eyes reappeared and he smiled for the first time since coming here.

"It's Emma!-- I gotta go."

He turned with blushed cheeks. (That blush wasn't for you.,) "Thanks-- I mean, you're really a great friend. But that's all you are, this isn't going to make it weird right?"

You heart was completely gone-- Too much hurt that it felt like you flat lined.. That it had dried to dust and blew away..

All you could do was nod as he left out the door..

Your room was so cold now. Even the tears in your eyes felt like ice racing down your cheeks. Your body felt dirty as you sat in the middle of your bed-- the blankets you were wrapped up in needed to be burned!

Why was it so easy for him to hurt you! He didn't love you! Stop loving him!

Please stop loving him....

You let out a muffled scream into your pillow. Wishing you could just drown in your tears that soaked the cotton.

........................

#tokyo revengers #x reader #draken #emma sano #draken smut #hurtful #unrequited love #fanfic #draken x reader

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spartanguard · 4 months

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an important date

it's Friday and it's Colin's birthday....I had to do something!! Just a bit of a post-canon Captain Charming scene, inspired by this prompt: "We both meet at the bar at a birthday party but we don’t even know who’s birthday it is. I think it’s yours, you think it’s mine." 1.1k, rated T | AO3

The Rabbit Hole was…well, the Rabbit Hole—its usual divy self. It wasn’t where Killian would typically expect to find David, least of all on the prince’s birthday.

At least—he thought that’s what Emma had said? She’d all but shoved him out of the station that evening, with the direction to meet her father here for a “birthday drink”. Of the birth dates he’d memorized (and would never forget—Emma’s, Henry’s, Hope’s), he realized he was severely lacking when it came to his in-laws.

But perhaps David’s would be easier to remember, given its proximity to his own. Or, rather, when he thought his own was; the actual date was long since lost to time, realm travel, and changing calendars, and it had been centuries since he’d actually done anything to mark the date, but he remembered it being in spring.

Really the only fond memory he had of the day was picking fresh wildflowers with his mother, the light scent filling their small house, and the sweet taste of the modest cake she’d baked. When the hyacinth began to bloom in Storybrooke, he was always taken back to that day, and generally used that milestone to mark the passing of his years—but he’d lived enough of them that he needed no extra celebration or recognition.

As it was, the first shoots of spring had only just begun to emerge, so by his math, that put David’s birthday—or whatever today was—a few weeks ahead of his own. Good to know.

He scanned the bar for his mate—squinting a bit harder than he’d like to admit in the dim light (further evidence of the passage of time, he presumed)—almost missing him at the far end of the counter, until David waved at him.

“Evening, mate,” he greeted as he slid onto the barstool next to his father-in-law. “Not your typical scene, eh?” he added, nodding towards the rest of the bar, where all manner of seedy goings-on (well, as much as ever happened in Storybrooke) were happening—things the deputy sheriff should probably be concerned with, but he was off the clock (and had no room to talk).

David shrugged. “I’ve been known to pass the occasional night here—cursed and not cursed. Having royalty around seems to keep things calm.”

“Aye, but you’ve never been here with a pirate,” he winked back, even if it had been ages since he’d anything resembling a rowdy night. The most exciting his had been lately were the times that they managed to get a teething Hope down early enough to squeeze in some intimacy, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Emma’s father.

“No,” David agreed. “But I figured I could manage for one night. To mark the occasion and all.”

“Aye; it does warrant that. My apologies for not knowing the date sooner—happy birthday, Dave.”

But instead of the customary thanks, David just tilted his head at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

Bloody hell—had he misheard Emma? “We’re here to celebrate your day of birth, are we not?”

“No; my birthday is in July—so now I kind of am offended,” David replied, though his tone was light. “Wait—did Emma not tell you?”

“She told me to meet you here for a birthday drink—I assumed that meant it was yours.”

“No, man—it’s yours.”

“Come again?” He’d never so much as commented to anyone, including Emma, the whereabouts of birth date; so how would either of them, least of all David, have known?

David explained, “Remember near the end of her pregnancy, when her magic was kind of overpowered and she was trying to release it?” How could Killian forget? He spent a whole week with blue hair, and trying to keep Pop-Tarts from flying around the house. “Apparently during that, she was trying out a bunch of easy, informational spells; there was one about revealing birthdates. Turned out mine was off by a couple of days. But yeah, she did yours, too; she never mentioned it?”

Killian was momentarily speechless. Not out of betrayal or anything—things were rather chaotic leading up to Hope’s birth, so he didn’t blame Emma for letting it slip her mind—but moreso that it had been able to be determined.

And, despite the last several years being filled with things such as True Love, marriages, and more family than he’d ever imagined having, he was still touched by the idea that anyone cared enough about him to know the date he’d entered this world (or whichever world it was)—and even more that they wanted to acknowledge it.

“Uh, no,” he said, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. “I seem to recall her pregnancy brain was pretty bad then,” he quipped, hoping to lighten the moment. “So—really? Today?”

“Today,” David confirmed. Killian thought back to the wildflowers—then recalled that he grew up in a far warmer climate than Maine’s, perhaps the reason for his miscalculation.

(Also: he now understood why Emma had woken him with morning sex that day. That was never something he’d question, though—and also something he wouldn’t dare mention in present company.)

The barkeep then set two glasses of amber liquid in front of David. He slid one across the worn wood to Killian, then raised his own. “Happy birthday, Killian. To the best son-in-law—best friend—a man could ask for.”

Killian clinked his glass against David’s and quickly took a sip, hoping it might wash down the lump that had formed in his throat. Alas, it didn’t—but at least it was there with good reason. “Thank you, mate; and, uh, the feeling is mutual.” It wasn’t often words escaped him, so hopefully his father-in-law picked up on the weight of the emotion in his voice; he tried to find David’s eyes, but was overcome with an odd bashfulness he hadn’t felt since youth.

David just gave a gentle chuckle and a solid, brotherly thump on the shoulder, before attempting to down his own shot of rum—which brought on laughter of a different kind, but it broke the bit of tension.

They shared another drink after (whiskey; far more palatable to the prince), before leaving to their respective princesses—and sharing perhaps a stronger embrace than Killian had originally intended, but it was certainly called for.

As sweet as his memories from childhood were, it was nice to add this one to the collection of birthday remembrances—the first in so long. (And, as he eventually found, not the last—not by a long shot—in the many years to come.)

(However, he still refused, in all those celebrations, to tell David the way Emma preferred to mark the occasion.)

-----------------------------💙💙-------------------------------

[thanks for reading, and happy Captain Charming Friday! tags below cut]

@optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @cocohook388 @kmomof4 @kat2609 @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @annytecture @phiralovesloki @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows @wingedlioness @word-bug @thisonesatellite @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @athenascarlet @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke [let me know if you do/don't want tags!]

#killian jones #killian jones ff #captain charming ff #captain charming friday #my ff

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glittter-skeleton · 17 days

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OUAT smoking hc from me and my friends

cuz we noticed nobody smokes in this darn show which is not how what would go

Emma: She smokes whatever’s the cheapest in the nearest grocery store. Blue camel blue-type bitter ugly stuff. She’s been smoking for a while she does not care anymore. Couldn’t really hide it from Henry on the drive over and didn’t care enough to, so he knows. But eventually she does start putting them out anytime he catches her. Henry’s not impressed.

Regina: Fancy rich lady menthol thins. A blessing of the modern world. She’s discreet about in and only ever does it outside but it’s a habit. Emma finds out eventually and they take smoke breaks together during planning sessions. Switch cigs once and both come away from it with distain.

Snow: Took a drag once. Fainted.

Charming: Took a drag once. Also fainted.

Rumple: Has been smoking the same cigar for the last five years as a lil treat

Belle: Lacey smoked so when she gained her memories she had to deal with a nicotine addiction. Wore patches and stuff and quit.

Neal: Same shit are Emma but quit in New York only to start up again in Neverland. (The bums tobacco of of Hook. Hook does it Very begrudgingly cuz his boy shouldn’t be smoking)

Hook: Carries a pipe around with his flask. His preferred sin is alcohol but he does whip it out if he has the time. It’s in mint condition cuz 1) it has to be if you’ve ever known a pipe smoker 2) it’s killian he’s Like That. Has tried harder stuff in his days, of course. Tried to quit when he was planning on parenting Neal. That didn’t pan out. The tobacco he keeps in the Jolly Roger was what saved Emma in Neverland cuz she only had like half a pack when they left and Regina refuses to magic in anything other than her darn menthol thins. She used up like a fifth of his savings to make her own bunch for the trip. After returning funds out smoking indoors is not a thing people do now so he switches to bumming cigs of Emma to keep up with the speed of her smoke breaks. Eventually just buys whatever Emma prefers (but just a tad pricier) to be able to offer her one at any time. Still indulges the pipe but like… as a treat now.

Graham: Blue Winston with a button for just a tiny kick on his miserable life.

Grumpy: The only person Emma can bum the “good stuff” off

Ruby: Cherry starter cigs, obviously. It’s chapman where I live but idk if that translates for u people. And weed, obviously

Robin: Only when he had the means to. Grew the wrong plant one time so now he’s more into rolling a joint when he has the time. He doesn’t know it’s what that is tho.

#ouat #once upon a time #ouat headcanons #captain swan #Emma swan #regina mills #killian jones #mary margaret blanchard #David Nolan #neal cassidy #robin of locksley #ruby lucas #rumplestiltskin #mr gold

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snowbellewells · 15 days

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CSSNS23 Fic Update: "Carolina Moon" Chapter Five

Sheesh, so much for getting back to weekly updates! I don't know what else to do but apologize folks, and to say thank you for hanging in there with me if you're still patiently reading this story despite my lack of speed. Please enjoy the newest chapter - the threat is ramping up, but so is Killian's determination to help keep Emma safe!

Thank you so, so, SO much for @xarandomdreamx and her wonderful beta skills - she had a job fixing all the times I switched tenses this go 'round!

And continued thanks to @eastwesthomeisbest for this cover art that I'm thrilled by all over again each time I post a new chapter!!

Read from the beginning HERE on Tumblr or HERE on AO3

Summary: Emma Swan has returned to the town she grew up in, and the past that has haunted her no matter where she has run. She seeks answers and peace at last. Despite the years that have passed, some things haven't changed very much in Storybrooke, South Carolina, and one of those things is Killian Jones. He never forgot the gangly girl with the world on her shoulders and pain in her eyes, but will he finally be able to slip past her defenses and help her find the answers she seeks?

Chapter Five: Unwanted Reunion and New Resolve

Killian Jones’ mind was everywhere but on the shipping manifests and cost reports he was attempting to look over in his small office down at the docks. Paperwork of that nature was his least favorite part of being the boss, and a tedious chore at the best of times, but with all he had witnessed the night before - Emma trembling in his arms, shaking from the sapping strength of her visions - he could find little space in his brain for inventory and figures. The sunlight glinting off the water out the window to his left and the gentle sound of the waves striking the moorings of the pier always tried to entice him from his desk on mornings he had to take alone to put the business in order, but with his concentration already severely fractured, he was making little to no headway. He’d dropped Emma off by her car at the gallery that morning, reluctantly aware that he had to give her a bit of space, and figuring that in the middle of town in broad daylight was the best time to do so and still retain his own peace of mind. He’d spent the night on her couch - against her protests that she sleep there instead - but all had been quiet, no signs of trouble. She’d planned to go to the diner to grab breakfast, then work for a few hours, and he’d pick her up that evening when they’d both finished for the day.

With a growl of frustration, Killian pushed his chair back and reclined in it, raking a hand through his dark hair, surely making it stand on end, and squeezing his eyes closed to block all the images rushing through, images that were already inside his head. He wanted to yell, to hit something - mostly his own younger self. How had they all been so blind and callous? Was this what Emma had always been dealing with? Even as a child? Rose would have known, would have been a support, a respite for Emma in the storm the rest of her life must have been. His baby sister, whom he’d doted on, but clearly not paid careful enough attention to, would have done nothing less. But when she was snatched away, and Emma blamed for the loss, despite what she had risked in order to help, it was just too late, the storm had surged back to surround her, raging and buffeting her more cruelly than ever. Though he had wondered briefly about the marks he could see that morning, and what had kept Emma from meeting Rose the night before, he had been too young and blind, too lost in his own grief and family concerns to reach out to her as he saw now he should have done. She had lost the only anchor in the maelstrom she had ever possessed, and he hadn’t bothered to toss her a lifeline. Leaning forward again, elbows planted on his cluttered desk, Killian rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully for a moment, trying to refocus on what he could do now to help her and show he wanted to ease her burden - would always, always, be at her side from now on, if she would allow it. Emma had said, when her defenses were still down and he had held her close, trying to imbue any bit of strength he could, that Rose wasn’t the only one - that there had been other victims.

Galvanized with sudden inspiration, he pushed his bookkeeping aside in a messy heap to one corner of his desk and quickly opened a new window on his laptop. If he wasn’t going to be able to focus on his own work, he might as well accomplish something worthwhile, something he could take to Emma as proof of how fully he took her at her word - a starting point for their inquiry. His eyes began to scan lines of text in rapid fascination - both amazed and appalled at the sheer amount of information at one’s fingertips once he chose to look, and at the horrifying reality of there being so much to be found.

He was soon fully engaged in the task, his other concerns slipping away with the minutes that ticked by until he could call it a day, and it suddenly felt as if he had managed some worthwhile work after all. Perhaps not for Jones Shipping Ltd., but important all the same. He tried not to picture the scoff and disappointed shake of the head his father would have given at that; Brennan Jones did nothing if not for the furtherance of their name and holdings, and his imagination’s echoes of the sharp retort that would be on his mother’s lips did no good either.

All the same, he was anxious to show Emma what he had turned up, and in only a couple hours’ searching. It wouldn’t be what one might call pleasant dinner conversation - certainly not what he’d usually entertain as fit for a second date - was he crazy to consider it as such? He felt Emma would want to know all the same. It was proof that what she had seen the night before, horrifying as it must have been, was hardly mistaken or imagined. And it was a first stop toward finally uncovering the truth after all this time. Emma deserved to be set free at long last - they all did.

When it finally neared five o’clock, Killian had never locked up his office and left work so quickly. He headed straight for the town square and those mesmerizing green eyes he was eager to feel upon him again. He had been missing them for longer than he’d ever fully realized.

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

The morning after intense visions Emma always felt a bit hazy, slightly dazed and headache-y, almost as though suffering from a mental hangover of sorts, from exerting such focus and emotion. That morning was no different, but she shuffled gingerly through her usual routine as always, wincing but not about to waste time recouping her strength if she still hoped to open for business as planned.

By the time she had returned to the gallery, a shocking amount of coffee in her system and a satisfyingly crisp and greasy bacon sandwich from the local diner in her stomach, she already felt more herself. She had called the young lady, Violet Clemens back and hired her after all. She was going to need help, and the sale she had already made - to Ruby Jones, of all people! - had boosted her confidence. She might as well sink everything into this; if she went down, she would go down swinging with all she had.

Violet had joined her in the shop just after 12:30, and they had spent a cheerful couple of hours putting the last items and displays in place. The other woman had proven a real asset already: agreeable, quick, and a good eye to boot. She was pleasant company and a worthy distraction. Emma was already exceedingly glad of her presence.

It was just half past three when Emma paused to stretch, catch her breath, and survey their progress with a proud smile. There really wasn’t too much left after Killian’s help the previous day, and all that she and her new employee had just accomplished. Smiling broadly, she thanked Violet once more, and got them both a cold water bottle from the small fridge she’d had Killian’s help in nestling on the shelf under the counter. They were due a cool drink and a moment’s sit down, she felt sure.

While they were still sipping their drinks perched on the tall stools she’d placed behind the counter, the bell above the shop door jangled merrily to announce the arrival of Mayor Walsh Ozman with his wide, charming-the-public smile. Emma stood and moved forward to greet her old acquaintance, asking what they could do for him, even though she was privately amused at how well the public servant schtick seemed to suit him. She would have never imagined that the unhappy, mean-spirited boy of their youth would be wearing that wide smile and winning local elections when they all grew up. Then again, she couldn’t have pictured much for her future either, not back then. Still, she mused curiously before returning her attention to Walsh’s reply, she would have to ask Killian if it was an election year and if Mayor Ozman was trying to win over these two newcomers to his town by turning on the charm.

As it turned out, the mayor was also hoping to make an early purchase - it seemed that he and his wife were quite close to their 15th anniversary, and having lived in Storybrooke all that time, he was anxious to shop for a gift somewhere completely unknown to her. He genuinely did want to offer any help he could as a town representative, but if he could find the right anniversary present at the same time, he would be incredibly grateful.

Violet happily began to show him around the shop, directing his attention to various framed photographs which might work especially well as romantic gifts - the close-up bud of a red rose, two swallows entwined in flight, a couple’s joined hands in silhouette against a sunset’s orange and gold. Not only that, but she kept up a lively patter of information that proved just what a sponge she had been for all of the information Emma had told her so far about her process, materials, and subject matter. Violet answered the mayor’s questions nearly as well as Emma herself could have done, and it pleased Emma more than she could say, thinking that not only had she helped someone in need of a job, but that she had managed to find someone with the pep and sweetness they needed out front, all the engaging personality she herself often fought to project, as well as a genuine interest in the art itself.

By the time Violet had shown Walsh all the way around the store cheerily, the mayor had a selected photo in hand once they returned to the counter and Emma was marvelling at how lucky she had been to find such a natural saleswoman along with all of Violet’s other positive traits. The red rose picture Walsh had selected seemed a touch obvious, but then, who was she to judge? She had chosen it to crop and display as she had because its blatant appeal almost guaranteed it would sell. They weren’t even officially open yet, and this was her second painting sold. If this could keep up, she might not have as hard a road making her gallery succeed as she had anticipated.

As she rang up the purchase and ran the mayor’s card, Violet carefully and efficiently wrapped the frame as she had been shown. Walsh grinned broadly the whole time as her new assistant prattled on. “You’ve really saved me a long, drawn out search with this, ladies. And Marjorie will love it too. Plus, it was a chance to keep business local. Your gallery is going to be a great addition for Storybrooke, just wait and see.”

“I certainly hope so,” Emma replied, a pleasantly warm glow of pride in her chest as she did so.

“You just give me a call if there’s anything I can do to help out,” he reminded again as he headed out the door with a wave. “It is part of my job, after all.”

When he was gone, Emma found that they really had accomplished nearly all that she had planned for the day. With heartfelt gratitude, she sent Violet off a bit early, promising that she was just going to lock up and make an early night of it herself as well. No need to tell the younger woman that she was going to be picked up at five like a kid after daycare for her own safety.

Violet hadn’t been gone but a few minutes before Emma had all in order and was gathering her things to leave, true to her word. She made sure the lights were out in the back office, that all was in its proper place, and was just bending to gather her things from under the counter, when she heard the door open once more, its bell chiming in announcement. Standing straight again, she had begun to speak before even seeing the person who had entered. “I’m sorry, but we’re not open for business yet. I was just leaving for the day, and - “ but the rest of her polite dismissal died on her tongue when she recognized the person who had arrived - a face she had hoped never to see again.

“Well, seeing as I’m already here, you’ll just have to make an exception, won’t you?” The question was taut and dangerous, hardly a question at all, though phrased as such. Every nerve in Emma’s body stood on end in response. Her limbs took on the same sort of wary motionlessness they had years ago, like a rabbit going statue-still in hopes of evading a predator’s notice, yet ready to dart away the moment an opening appeared.

Vic Franken hadn’t darkened her path again after she’d paid him off for her safety and peace of mind once he found her in Boston. Emma had hoped that fragile truce and space would hold, despite his breach of parole, but her former “guardian” never had been particularly wise, and he was eerily apt to return to what he knew, what was easiest, particularly when he was desperate. Emma wet her lips nervously and attempted to keep breathing calmly, steadily, focused on taking in any weakness she might be able to use to her own benefit. The past six or seven years had not been kind to him by the looks of it. Always tall and wiry, Franken appeared almost unhealthily gaunt, with dark shadows under eyes that were still as sharp and wild, darting quickly about the gallery space, to her, and back again. His clothes were worn and wrinkled, his hair stood on end in places, and he was moving closer, coming to stand just on the other side of the counter - much nearer than Emma could handle without her knees going a bit watery in spite of the fact that she wasn’t 13 anymore and she had every right to order him out of her place of business, whether he thought so or not.

“You s-shouldn’t be here,” she managed to say coolly, her voice only quavering slightly, for which she was grateful. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, intending to look serious, but also hoping to hold herself together as best she could.

“Damn it!” he howled, the loud exclamation ringing in the air between them as his large hand slammed down on the counter, rattling the surface with a bang, and causing Emma to shrink backward against her best effort to hold her ground. “You aren’t so high and mighty that you can just shove me out! I put a roof over you head, and you owe me for it! I’m not leaving ‘til I’m good an’ ready!”

At that, Emma regained herself through sheer outrage alone. This monster had made her childhood miserable, and she wasn’t about to have him barge in and take anything else from her. Standing taller and tipping her chin up to face him squarely, Emma’s spine returned to her after the shock of his appearance, while her hand scrambled carefully through her things beneath the countertop. She hoped Franken wouldn’t notice what she was doing before she could lay hands on the pocketknife she knew was somewhere in her purse. Granted, that wasn’t much of a weapon, but she wasn’t going to face him without any sort of defense - not ever again.

An eerie sort of calm washed over the man for a moment then, as if he and Emma were locked in a stalemate and her facing him steadily had given him pause. His exacting gaze continued to take in the large main room of her shop, and Emma held her breath, finally feeling her fingertips graze the handle she was searching for at the bottom of her purse. She knew better than to drop her guard; his quiet hesitation was like a hurricane’s eye, the calm before the gale began to batter and howl once more. Grasping her prize, Emma pulled it free and flicked it open, not wanting to show her hand too soon and yield the element of surprise if she had to wield it.

As Franken returned his focus to her, an unnatural almost proud look crossed his features, as out of place as it was, particularly when an attempt at some sort of paternal smile twisted his visage. “Seems like you’ve done alright for yourself since I saw you last, Emma,” he finally murmured in a cajoling tone.

She snorted; regardless of how dangerous it might be to antagonize him, she couldn’t even pretend they were on terms to make friendly small talk. “If I am doing well, it’s no thanks to you,” she retorted bitterly.

Franken’s nostrils flared as he reeled back to his full height, the calm attempt at appealing to her good side shattered in an instant. “Ungrateful wench!” he hollered, eyes bulging wide as he swung a hand wildly, catching the edge of a large, framed portrait on the wall behind him and knocking it to the floor, where it crashed on its face and sent glass shattering outward in a wide spray. “After I took you in, fed you, clothed you, saw that you had a roof over your head? Now you’re too good to return the favor?”

Emma gasped in dismay at the largest piece in her gallery’s fall and destruction, but was quick enough to dodge his flailing hand when Franken reached out in an attempt to grab her shoulder and haul her close. She was just fast enough to evade him, thankfully. She might be fully grown now instead of a scrawny, underfed kid, but she still didn’t need to find out what he would do if he got a good hold on her.

“Took me in?” she spat back, practically seething in anger that he would dare pretend he had actually provided any sort of genuine care. “Is that what you did?” Shaking her head in disbelief, Emma finally raised the small blade before her, as if warning him to keep his distance, even if there wasn’t much more space behind the counter for her to put between them. “Which part am I supposed to be grateful for, hmm?” she barrelled on, now that the gates were open, her words kept spilling out. “The beatings that left me so sore I could barely sit or walk for days afterward? The hours I spent locked in the pitch dark cellar as punishment for my demons? The shame and fear you made sure I never forgot from the moment I crossed the threshold of your house until the day I got away from it?” The small pocket knife wavered along with her hand, and her vision blurred with hot tears of frustration, but Emma didn’t falter. “Tell me what exactly I should be thanking you for?”

With a wild growl, he whirled away from her, grabbing frames from their hooks and hurling them against the walls or to the floor, knocking a large easel to the ground and smashing his foot through the canvas print it had held. He was on as much a tear as a toddler having a fit, but imminently more dangerous. Rounding on her again, his eyes were wild, and if possible, Emma would have sworn he was foaming at the mouth.

It was then, in desperation to save the work he hadn’t already destroyed, that she acted without thinking clearly and charged out from behind the counter she had carefully kept between them - so focused on making him leave that she left herself vulnerable by coming too close. “Get out!” Emma cried, mindless of his larger build and out of control demeanor; the threat he posed flying from her head as her work - the pictures she’d poured her heart and soul into, and the inventory she needed to keep her business afloat - clattered to the ground, breaking and being trashed before her eyes. She might still have the small blade gripped in her sweaty fingers, but she wasn’t thinking about defense as much as ridding herself of his presence before he destroyed her means of livelihood. “You have no right to anything from me! You need to get out of here before I call the police and tell them you’re in town!”

Franken whirled from the far wall where he’d been wreaking havoc and instead turned towards her seething with unrestrained rage. There were many times in her years growing up when Emma had feared that this man was unstable; dangerously obsessed with her “unholy” visions and driving them from her by any means necessary, and that his volatile fanaticism would injure her beyond what she could heal from or survive. Emma had spent far longer than was fair, wasted too much of her life, waiting to be out from under his thumb, no longer catching her breath and ducking a fist sure to fly or a bruising belt buckle if she said too much or let the wrong words slip. It had been long enough now though that she wasn’t guarding every thought and impulse, and she didn’t stop to second guess or recognize the danger as she took her stand. Willing to defend this little space she’d made for herself, even if it meant facing the monster from her past head-on and all alone.

The violence that twinkled maliciously in Franken’s deep, dark gaze should have been a warning, but Emma was too riled up and determined that this time she wasn’t backing down, wasn’t letting this pathetic excuse for a man take anything more from her. Where a younger, more wary version of herself would have shrunk back and put space between them, Emma instead pressed forward capitalizing on the man’s momentary shock. She wasn’t sure what she intended to try next if he didn’t move, but her body seemed determined to herd him out the door, with or without the full thought and cooperation of her racing brain.

Barely a moment’s warning, where a low, evil chuckle rumbled from his throat, evidencing anything but humor, was the only signal Emma got, and the next thing she knew, Franken had struck so fast she didn’t even see the movement - like a copperhead concealed in dank marsh water, having already bitten a person before one even knew it was there. Her head whipped to the side with the impact of his fist shooting out and making contact, leaving her ears ringing and her lungs gasping for air.

Emma struggled to keep her feet beneath her, even as the world around her tilted sideways. A wailing inside her head like sirens brought back all the times she had fallen before this monster as a child, curled tightly in a ball to protect herself from the blows he’d rained down on her for the smallest imagined infractions or the involuntary glimpses of prescient knowledge she couldn��t help possessing - they’d been part of who she was even then, as much a her hair or eye color, and they refused to stay hidden. Emma had attempted to - for all she was worth - having immediately learned speaking of what she saw, no matter how important it might seem, only earned her more suffering and degradation.

Flailing her arms, she managed to catch the side of the counter and steady herself before she went tumbling to the floor. Franken was right there, coming for her again with his arm raised, no doubt reveling in the same sort of drunken power he had missed while the inexorable familiarity of the old, horrible pattern clutched Emma by the throat with fear.

This time she wasn’t having it. She’d fight him even if it broke every bone in her body. With a cry of pain soaked in years of suffering unheard, Emma pushed off the counter, leading with the sharp pocket knife and sheer desperation, she meant to make her own mark this time. “Leave me alone!” she bellowed, as she took her first step to meet him.

But, despite his own seeming haze of madness and unsteady mind, Vic Franken was still quick and powerful as a gator and just as mean. Much like he’d always been, he was too large a foe for her to fell unprepared and without proper defenses. His meaty paw caught her wrist with crushing strength, until her fingers were forced to release her blade and it clattered to the floor and skittered away uselessly as she felt her tendons and bones ground painfully beneath his grip.

He pulled her close to his face until their noses nearly touched, as if trying to understand why he couldn’t make her cower the way he once had. Emma could just begin to hear the blessed sound of sirens in the distance that she prayed were coming their way. Thank goodness she had shouldered the extra cost of hidden cameras and a security company who monitored their feed continuously. When he’d begun to tear her gallery apart it would have been obvious help was needed though she’d had no time to call for it.

“You think this is over?” he hissed angrily. “I’m not finished with you…far from it. You won’t be rid of me until I say so. Don’t you forget it.”

Flinging Emma away like a discarded ragdoll, she stumbled with the force of it, tripping on the debris that littered the floor and slamming back into the counter that had saved her minutes before. Franken fled out the door and was gone, and she slumped to the floor - for the moment too dizzy and aching to get up again. Trying to catch her breath and make her surroundings stop whirling around her, Emma breathed slowly, closing her eyes and allowing her head to lean groggily against the smooth, cool surface until she could gather her bearings.

The siren sounds drew nearer still, for which she was so thankful she could cry, but then she heard the door swing open once more, and she lurched frantically to attention, struggling to get her feet under her for fear that he had come back to finish her off. What she saw instead almost started her laughing hysterically, having never imagined this particular visitor’s appearance would send relief washing over her.

“Emma?” Ruby Jones’ voice was shocked and disbelieving, even concerned, all rolled into one as her heels click-clacked right across all the broken glass towards her before she crouched at her side, fingers already gingerly dabbing at the trickle of blood from the broken skin at her temple and then holding an honest-to-goodness monogrammed handkerchief to the spot. “What happened here?”

Emma reached out to still Ruby’s hand, shaking her head with as little force as possible and still wincing, “More who than what…” she managed, still trying to fully gather her wits and fighting for her speech not to sound slurred. She swallowed, wetting her lips and pressing on. “It was Franken….my old foster father…remember?” Ruby nodded, mouth and eyes both gaping wide at her. Emma sighed, “Thank - thank goodness it sounds like those sirens are close… don’t wanna tell this all more than once.”

“Vic Franken?” Ruby growled, her wide eyes narrowing. She looked for a second as if she might have clawed the man’s eyes out herself if she had been here just a little sooner. Emma again had to choke back out of place hilarity at the other woman’s defense of her. Rose would have loved it; she was just trying not to get whiplash. “What did that bastard think he was doing coming here?” Ruby snapped out.

Emma chuckled lightly, squinting against the way even that made her head hurt. Somehow Ruby’s fiery temper made her heart feel a little lighter. This nightmare was still dogging her, but the sheer absurdity of someone she’d have sworn even two days ago couldn’t stand her being ready to fight for her, lightened the dark cloud that had settled over her. Giving the former debutante a mischievous, if weary, side eye, she teased. “Whoo, Miss Ruby! That’s quite a mouth you’ve got there for a nice Southern belle! What would your Mama say?!”

Ruby rolled her eyes at the teasing with a dismissive snort, even as she let Emma grip her forearms and help her to stand again, holding on until sure she was steady. “Well, first she would have told me to walk on by and leave you where you fell, so clearly I don’t much care what she has to say.”

Emma began to nod her acknowledgement that what Ruby said was true, then quickly thought better of it at the shot of pain that lanced through her.

Ruby shrugged, offering a crooked smile. “Besides,” she added ruefully, “Mama despaired of me a long time ago.”

Emma drew in a sharp breath, a few sadly clarifying things about Killian and Rose’s sister instantly becoming clear.

“Now,” Ruby continued, red fingernail raised to point at Emma authoritatively, “you are gonna report this sorry excuse of a man so they can nail him to the wall, and then we’re gonna get you patched up, okay?”

Emma didn’t get to respond further as they were interrupted by what seemed to be the entire Storybrooke police force’s arrival just then, with a worried David Nolan leading the charge. She’d give her former defender credit. Though he looked half beside himself when he first burst through the door, his deputies flanking him, David quickly saw that the perpetrator was gone and, while she was injured and shaken, Emma was no longer in immediate danger and had someone at her side. With an almost visible effort, he reigned in his protectiveness and brought his anxiety back under stern professional control.

Turning, he began capably barking out orders to his fellow officers - not unkindly, but feeling the urgency and not at all wanting to allow Franken to escape and cause this sort of damage again. Through the buzzing that seemed to have taken up residence in her brain, Emma heard David directing a perimeter to be set up to keep Franken from getting out of town, with an APB being put out with Franken’s name and description to all possible news outlets. He also organized the coordination of his people coming in to gather evidence and block off the space outside on the walk so gawkers couldn’t make their way in and disturb anything that could aid in their search.

Though there were an overwhelming number of people swarming all about inside the shop, Emma was grateful that only David himself came over to ask a few questions of her. Ruby had led her, wordless as she had ever seen the youngest Jones sibling, over to one of the tall stools at the counter, coaxing her into gingerly sitting down, being kind enough even to avert her gaze and hold back her own questions when Emma leaned slightly over, her still-spinning head against Ruby’s side as she attempted to swallow her nausea back down her throat. Ruby just rubbed a hand across Emma’s shoulder blades gently and stood there as steady and calm as a pillar of marble.

David stooped to look into Emma’s eyes with his own careful concern as he reached them. “Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?” he asked promptly, his words clipped and tight, making the strain he was still under to remain calm and professional all too clear. Emma was fairly certain he already knew the answer anyway. If she tried to shake her head and deny his suspicions, her world would only keep spinning more frantically.

Just barely meeting his anxious stare with her eyes slitted narrowly open, she managed a half-convincing, “Calm down, Nolan. We all know I’ve had worse.”

The sheriff’s lips pressed together into a thin line, his whole expression pulled taut enough that Emma couldn’t even gauge whether anger, guilt, or fear was playing the largest role. His arms crossed firmly over his broad chest as he stood back to his full height, sensing that hovering would not make her any more agreeable, but he didn’t cease watching her, not allowing her to shut him out. “That isn’t funny,” he ground out, low enough that in the bustle around the shop only she, Ruby, and himself heard the admonishment, yet she felt chastened all the same. “You are clearly not safe, even out in the open, in broad daylight, and what if the security company hadn’t called us soon enough, if Ruby hadn’t walked in when she did? Emma, you could have been - “

Her eyes shot up to meet his savagely, knowing the rest of his sentence and not wanting it spoken aloud. Despite the ringing in her ears and rolling of her stomach, her fierce look froze the words on David’s tongue. She’d traveled so far, worked so hard to be more than the helpless, pitied victim of that man’s abuse - and she wasn’t letting him make her one again.

Before any of them could speak further, or the tension between them could fully dissipate, the door flung back on its hinges wildly as someone else rushed into her gallery. “Emma!” Killian’s unmistakable voice called out, cracking with worry on the second syllable, even as David moved aside slightly so his friend could see her for himself.

A strangled sound escaped his throat, and in moments Jones was across the room and on his knees before her, reaching out as if to pull her close, then jolting back as he took in the trickle of blood and the bruising that had already begun to color the side of her face. Looking wracked with indecision, he simply held his place before her, as near as he dared, and breathed out a choked, “What happened, Swan? Are - are you alright?”

“She will be,” Ruby offered with much needed certainty from beside Emma, laying her hand on her brother’s shoulder, as if to steady him and remind them both that she was there. It was new from her - for both of them - but her typical self assurance was bolstering in the fraught moment and incredibly welcome.

Killian finally released a full breath, his forehead falling to rest upon her knee, and his fingers reflexively clutching her denim-clad leg for a moment as he trembled with relief. After a moment to gather himself, he looked up into Emma’s face from where he crouched before her, eyes swimming with unasked questions and the fear - still all too close to the surface - that he had nearly lost her.

Emma didn’t have the strength to hold back, not in that tremulous moment when she was hurt and wanted to scream at the unfairness of everything falling apart around her. She grasped his t-shirt at the shoulder, comforted by his warm solidity beneath, and ran a hand over his brow, amazed that he was there and was so intensely concerned - and that she allows herself the luxury of that - before trailing her fingers through his unruly dark hair. “It was Franken,” she murmured lowly, just wanting it all out, like poison drawn from a wound. “He was here, mostly after money, I think…” she paused. “But as you can see,” she gestured to her face, “that clearly wasn’t enough to keep him from leaving a souvenir for old times’ sake.”

She could see the angry tic in Killian’s jaw, working to restrain the fury he felt, and though his was quieter, it seemed to run even deeper and even harder to contain than David’s had before it.

At that, David broke into the moment. “Killian, why don’t you take Emma to Storybrooke General to be checked out? I can swing by there later, when all this is under control, if I have any questions that can’t wait until tomorrow.” He waved to the crime scene which her gallery had become as he spoke.

Killian’s “Aye” and terse nod were all that voiced his agreement to the sheriff’s suggestion, but he stood and offered Emma a hand; balance and support to pull herself up if she chose to take it. Ruby squeezed her hand, promising she would check on her later as well.

She wanted to argue, to say the fuss wasn’t necessary, but as she stood and then wavered unsteadily, she knew there was no point. She merely took Killian’s arm and leaned on him wordlessly without a fight. None of the three people surrounding her would let her close call be brushed aside - not this time. For now, she accepted the concern and decided she’d give herself a minute in which she didn’t have to be so strong.

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

A few hours later Killian was leading Emma from the waiting room of the small local hospital, walking and as close behind her as humanly possible without getting their feet tangled and making her fall. She wanted to tell him that she’d be fine, to take her back to her car and then go on home, but the determined and independent core she had built up, the one which usually allowed her to offer those placating refrains so easily seemed irretrievably weakened. She couldn’t push him away. Where she would usually deny or ignore whatever had shaken her, Emma couldn’t this time. After all she had accomplished and how far she had traveled, after how long she had denied herself and stayed as far away as she could, it hadn’t been enough - not long enough, not far enough - her past and its monster had still found her and attacked.

So she didn’t want to need Killian Jones’ warm and steady palm at the small of her back, the comforting heat and gentle, guiding pressure easily felt through the thin material of her cotton blouse, but need it she did. “Come Lass, the truck’s over here,” he murmured, soothing and low near her ear, leaning in to speak for her ears alone as he steered her toward the corner of the lot where he had parked.

There really hadn’t been much anyone could do for the busted lip and rapidly blackening eye she was sporting, other than cautioning her to ice it often and to take aspirin as needed for the pain, but they had made sure nothing was broken in her nose, cheekbones, or jaw. She had also been cautioned, since she’d suffered some nausea at first, that if she became dizzy again or threw up, she should return for further examination. She hadn’t presented with a concussion, but one might sometimes show up later, and they wouldn’t want to miss it if so.

The doctor who had looked her over and the nurse were both concerned about sending Emma home alone; they wanted her observed and awakened every couple of hours. At Killian’s assurance that he would stay with her and do just as they suggested, however, they had relented and she had finally been released.

It wasn’t until he was helping her up into the high seat of his truck’s cab and moving to shut the door that she finally forced herself to protest - it was too much, he didn’t need to put himself out.

Killian was having none of it. He wouldn’t even let her finish, interrupting her protests in a heavy handed way she hadn’t yet seen from him. The solemnity of his vow was irrefutable when he swore that “This time, Love, you won’t be alone until that bastard is caught. Not until this is over.” His eyes burned into her like twin blue flames. “You are too precious for me to do otherwise.”

As much as the fervent emotion from him stole her breath, frustration mounted within her right alongside it. She’d spent so much of her early life beholden to one person or another, moved and driven by the whims of Fate or the system. She didn’t want to be a responsibility or a chore to anyone - not even someone honorable, who took his role as seriously as Killian. Especially not to Killian. She shook her head angrily, biting back tears. “This is stupid! I’ll just go…”

Jones didn’t even hesitate. “Then I’m going too… to the end of the Earth, if that’s where you’re headed.”

She was swiping at the errant tears that wouldn’t be held back any longer, wincing when she got too close to the tender area near her eye socket and sniffing back worse sobs as she beseeched him in last resort. “Why? Killian, why would you do that? So you can get yourself killed trying to protect me?!?”

But he merely shook his head, leaning into her space, pressing his forehead to hers and his warm breath caressing her cheek. “I’m not going to let that happen, Swan. We’ve both lost enough. I’m with you now - no matter what - and we’re going to stand and fight.”

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#cssns23 #cs modern au mc #cs movie au #cssns fic update #carolina moon #chapter five #some violence #some angst #just a fair warning #but also a line I've been dying to have Killian say...

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celiciaa · 10 months

Text

GILBERT VON OBSIDIAN EVENT STORY....

SWEET.

A beast’s dream fulfilled by beauty.

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

spoilers from gilbert's route.

minors and ageless blogs dni.

In the streets of Obsidian, where many people come and go, I just stood there.

The cold presence creeping up behind me was familiar.

Gilbert: Only members of the royal family are allowed to wear obsidian rings. // The obsidian rings are only allowed to be worn by the royal family.

(…..I didn't know.)

The woman I thought I could be friends with is now out of sight.

(I just helped her out, and now she’s changed like this just because I’m related to the royal family.)

Gilbert: As you know, the Obsidian royal family is a symbol of evil.

While hugging me from behind, Lord Gilbert breaths poison into my ears.

Gilbert: They could be executed for the slightest thing, and in the past, it’s possible to have their whole family killed.

Gilbert: Is there anyone who would risk their lives just to become friends with you? // Who would risk their life to be friends with you?

(….As long as I am Lord Gilbert’s fiancé, the obsidian will fear me.)

(This is what it means that I can't make friends.)

It reminds me of the cold world at Rhodolite.

The only reason I didn't feel that in Obsidian was that Lord Gilbert was so good in his own way,

Once out from under the shelter, the world becomes cold again.

Gilbert: That woman hurt you, though.

Emma: No, not at all! I am not hurt.

Gilbert: You were kind to her, but she betrayed you, didn't she? Now, you're protecting her.

Emma: Since when you were watching?

Gilbert: From the very beginning.

(I was being followed. No wonder it was so easy to get out of the castle…..)

Emma: I was careless…..

(Either your friends betray you, or they don't…..)

(I can see where Lord Gilbert is coming from.)

Even I, who was not born into the royal family, would run away as soon as their true identity was known.

However, Lord Gilbert, who is a natural member of the royal family, should be no match for that.

Gilbert: Hehe, sorry?

Gilbert: Now that you've become a member of the royal family, it's impossible to make friends.

Gilbert: When I was young and innocent like you, I used to dream of having lots of friends.

Gilbert: But it was impossible. Chevalier was my only decent friend….

Gilbert: Most of them change their attitude when they find out I'm royalty. No matter how close we are.

Emma:…..

Gilbert: That's not what you call a friend, is it?

(Lord Gilbert’s unusual restraint also comes as advice.)

(….Maybe he was trying to keep me away so I wouldn't get hurt.)

The kindness that has been cleverly hidden by jealousy is revealed, and it makes me sad.

Gilbert: And when the betrayal continues, I think...

Gilbert: Everyone but your friends should perish.

(!?)

With a dazzlingly fresh smile, Lord Gilbert intertwined his fingers with mine and squeezed them tightly.

Gilbert: If you erase the people who aren't your friends, the world will be full of your friends….right?

Gilbert: But blood doesn't suit you…..

Gilbert: Do you think your friend will put up with you?

I don't know the true meaning behind that red eye, but Lord Gilbert never lies.

(I mean, it made me wonder if he had ever been severely betrayed.)

(And not just once, but many times…..)

Before preaching ethics, I felt like I caught a glimpse of the past wounds that Lord Gilbert must have suffered,

And I just couldn’t utter another word.

Gilbert: Shall we go back to the castle then?

Gilbert: Your friends who won't betray you are waiting for you.

We headed to the laboratory, where only those who were allowed by Lord Gilbert could enter,

Many of the "friends" introduced yesterday had gathered there.

Emma: Adele, Elise, and Clara….right?

Gilbert: Yes. Adele and Clara were trained as military dogs, and Elise is the therapist cat.

I bent down and reached out with my hand, trying not to scare them away.

When I petted them, they responded in an adorable way.

Emma: Cute…..

Adele: Woof!

Emma:….You’re also so cute.

Clara: Yawn….

Emma: Ah, so precious….

Elise:…Purrs.

Emma: I feel spiritually healed….

Gilbert: Roar—

Emma:…..

Lord Gilbert bends down and brings his head close to me among the animals.

(You….want me to pet you?)

When I combed his beautiful black hair with my fingers, his red eye lit up dimly.

Gilbert: Still no good.

Emma: What is it?

Gilbert: I get jealous of animals too.

Emma:…..

Gilbert: How can I make you not want anything but me?

Lord Gilbert carried me and separated me from my "friends".

Perhaps sensing something, the trained military dogs jumped on Lord Gilbert,

However, a single glare of his frightened them.

(How immature….)

Just as I was about to complain, I was lowered down on the table.

Gilbert: Do you really need friends that much?

Emma:….I need it.

With his hands on either side of me, Lord Gilbert looks into my face.

Gilbert: Still can't give up?

Emma: How could I give up?

(I couldn't put it into better words when I was in the town, but….)

Emma: Next time, I'll make sure they know from the start that I'm related to the royal family, and then I'll make friends with them.

Gilbert: Well….

Emma: You may be intimidating at first. But just because I can't be friends with anyone, it doesn’t mean I have to give up.

Gilbert:…..

Emma: At first I was afraid of Lord Gilbert, too. I thought it was absolutely impossible for us to be friends.

Emma: But as I got involved, I learned a lot of good things about Lord Gilbert.

Emma: And now we have come to know each other well enough to become engaged.

Emma: Knowing that Lord Gilbert is a great villain.

Gilbert:….I don't like it when you bring that up.

The bitter look on his face means that Lord Gilbert is aware of it.

Emma:….You mentioned earlier that the old Lord Gilbert wanted to have friends.

Emma: That's why I don't want to give up.

Emma: I can make friends without destroying them….

Emma: I want to prove that Lord Gilbert's dream in the past is not impossible.

Gilbert:……

When I pressed my forehead on his, Lord Gilbert lowered his eyes——

Just when I thought he smiled, he bit my lip.

(Ouch….)

Even the pain is endearing, but it's severe.

Gilbert: Okay? If you say you won't give up, then I won't stop either.

Gilbert: But I'm still jealous and probably won't support you.

Gilbert: I'm hoping you'll isolate yourself for the rest of your life because I don't want you to see anyone but me.

Emma:….I understand.

(It’s just for my self-satisfaction.)

I bite back in retaliation, and Lord Gilbert puts his hands behind my head and deepens the kiss.

The pain in my lips was so deep that it melted away in the heat.

Emma: Nnn…haa…!

Instead of kissing in front of my “friends,” I bite back and resist.

A single tear spilled down my cheek and I was finally allowed to breathe properly.

Emma: My heart…wasn’t prepared for this kiss.

Gilbert: Eh, it's a little late for that.

Gilbert: Besides, even though it was just the two of us, you called me "Lord Gilbert", didn't you? That's your punishment.

(Ah….)

Although it is a punishment, Lord Gilbert's gaze are too sweet.

Gilbert: I want you to give up quickly like I used to. // I hope you will fall apart as quickly as I once did.

Gilbert: Before I do something bad out of jealousy.

Emma:…..Just for the record, no matter how many friends I make in the future, Gil will always be my number one.

Emma: That alone will never change.

(….You don't have to be jealous, I'm so much in love with you.)

Gilbert: I see….

Gilbert: I don't know what I'd do if my expectations were betrayed by you.…

Emma: Of course, I won't betray you.

(At that time, I was able to fulfill the dream that Lord Gilbert once gave up and let go of….)

(….In the meantime, I might as well express my affection more than ever, so as not to make him jealous.)

(L….Let’s test that now.)

I stroked Lord Gilbert's black hair and his beautiful smile shone in the twilight——

▸ [ previous ]

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #ikemen series #cybird #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert

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isahorcrux · 10 months

Text

JILY WEEK DAY 5: MEET CUTE

As you can see, I'm really trying to post something once a day for @thegobletofweasleys' Jily Week. I whipped this one up whilst on a plane today. And yes, there's some thematic similarities to london is lonely...

Here I present... Presumptuous.

"This time around, it made me unexpectedly sad and then…"

Lily flipped the page of her recently checked out library book only to discover a in-flight drink napkin.

Weird, how’d that gotten in there?

Lily pulled the napkin from between the seams and set it down on her tray table, where it ought to have remained. Except, it wasn’t an in-flight drink napkin for American Airlines (the airline she was currently flying), but rather an in-flight drink napkin for United Airlines (an airline Lily actively avoided flying). And on said in-flight drink napkin, in much nicer writing than Lily could ever hope to produce herself, was a brief note.

Emma,

This might be incredibly presumptuous, but I thought we had some great conversation earlier and would love to continue it when we’re both back in LA. Here’s my number 310-555-7845.

-James

Lily quietly gasped. She didn’t think this sort of thing happened anymore. Obviously, the note wasn’t for her, but all the same it was rather exciting. She wondered what had happened. Had Emma ever contacted James? Or had James misinterpreted the whole thing and Emma simply shoved it into her library book never to be seen again (well, until Lily checked out the same book)? The possibilities were endless and Lily so desperately wanted to know. Maybe she knew this James. Or maybe she knew Emma. Or had a friend of a friend. Was it worth buying the in-flight wifi just to check social media? James had left his phone number, there were probably ways to track him down, right?

As it turns out, it is actually very difficult to find someone online with just their phone number. Googling was absolutely no help, nor was Instagram. Lily didn’t even bother with Facebook. She did, however, send a few texts to her LA born-and-raised friends to see if they recognized the number (perhaps they had gone to elementary school with this James fellow).

No one had.

Any normal person at this point would have appreciated the surreal connection that library books can bring to strangers and move on.

Not Lily.

As the plane bumped along the runway, Lily began to compose a text.

Lily Evans: This text is incredibly presumptuous, seeing as I am not Emma, but I just found this in my library book and just wanted to say how incredibly romantic I thought it was. Wishing you and Emma all the best ! xx Lily

Lily Evans: *Photo of James’ in-flight napkin note*

James Potter: hello library book comrade lily! how are you enjoying romantic comedy by curtis sittenfeld, by the way? were you as annoyed as I was that she thought danny was gen-z, when he is clearly a millenial??? just me??? I am however sorry to report that not only are emma and I not living happily ever after, but I actually never plucked up the courage to pass the note.

Lily Evans: Oh noooooo ! I guess romance is really and truly dead then. No, that thing about Danny annoyed me too, I’m still only half-way through, so no spoilers yet!

James Potter: wow, if i’d known the stakes I would have passed the napkin. as for spoilers, my lips are sealed. but please let me know when you’ve finished, would love to hear your thoughts :)

#jily week 2023 #meet cute #jily #jily fanfiction #james potter #lily evans #muggle au

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disenchantedif · 11 months

Note

SCREW IT ASSIGN EVERY SNTV SONG A CHARACTER OR SHIP

Say less. I absolutely love this ask.

Mine: MC/Avery

Braced myself for the goodbye, 'cause that's all I've ever known; then you took me by surprise, you said, "I'll never leave you alone"

Sparks Fly: MC/Cameron

Gimme something that'll haunt me when you're not around, 'cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile

Back to December: MC/Luci

You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye; so this is me swallowing my pride, standing in front of you saying I'm sorry for that night

Speak Now: Mikhail/Taisiya (she left her fiancé for him)

So don't say yes, run away now; I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door

Dear John: ??? (The Wraith)

You are an expert at sorry and keeping the lines blurry, never impressed by me acing your tests

Mean: MC @ Francisca & Luis Rivera

You, with your switching sides and your wildfire lies and your humiliation

The Story of Us: MC/Luci

This is looking like a contest of who can act like they care less, but I liked it better when you were on my side

Never Grow Up: Avery

Remember the footsteps, remember the words said, and all your little brother's favorite songs; I just realized everything I have is someday gonna be gone

Enchanted: Charlie

Same old tired, lonely place; walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy, vanished when I saw your face

Better Than Revenge: Theo

Sophistication isn't what you wear, or who you know, or pushing people down to get you where you wanna go; they didn't teach you that in prep school, so it's up to me

Innocent: ??? (The Wraith)

Wasn't it beautiful runnin' wild 'til you fell asleep, before the monsters caught up to you?

Haunted: Harlow

Something's made your eyes go cold; come on, come on, don't leave me like this, I thought I had you figured out

Last Kiss: MC/Luci

So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep, and I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe

Long Live: Bestie Squad (Vik, Theo, Charlie, & MC)

Long, long live the look on your face, and bring on all the pretenders; one day, we will be remembered

Ours: MC/Penny

Don't you worry your pretty little mind, people throw rocks at things that shine but they can't take what's ours

Superman: Mikhail/Taisiya

He's got his mothers eyes, his father's ambition, I wonder if he knows how much that I miss him

Electric Touch: MC/Avery

I've got my money on things goin' badly, got a history of stories ending sadly; still hoping that the fire won't burn me just one time

When Emma Falls in Love: Penny

She won't walk away unless she knows she absolutely has to leave; and she's the kind of book that you can't put down, like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town

I Can See You: MC/Amri

I can see you waitin' down the hall from me, and I could see you up against the wall with me; and what would you do, baby, if you only knew?

Castles Crumbling: Luci

Ones I loved tried to help, so I ran them off; and here I sit alone behind walls of regret, falling down like promises that I never kept

Foolish One: Charlie

And the voices say, “you are not the exception, you will never learn your lesson”; foolish one, stop checkin' your mailbox for confessions of love that ain't never gonna come

Timeless: MC/Viktor

I would've read your love letters every single night and run away and left it all behind, you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless

#answered asks #luci rivera #theo parker #viktor orlov #cameron fletcher #??? (the wraith)#charlie ortiz #avery monroe #harlow mitchell #penny eliades #amri singh #mikhail orlov #taisiya orlova #the riveras 😒

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tears-of-taelia · 4 months

Text

re: melia & emma

I've been thinking about this for awhile now. The way that the newest version of the Blacksteeple Castle chapter has presented Emma is interesting. There will be spoilers ahead, so don't read if you're still working your way through version 13.5!

My ramblings begin below. Here are some official pics (by the amazing Zumi) for reference.

As we know, during the events of Blacksteeple Castle, Melia wore a disguise to hide her true identity. This disguise is removed when Madame X slashes it with her sword. There is a small animation that follows, where a dark magical aura envelopes “Emma” before she is revealed to be Melia.

After the subsequent chaos, the disguise is not brought up again. However, the character of Emma is revealed to still reside in Melia’s cognition, apparently unbeknownst to Melia, as she says, “I thought I left you behind at Blacksteeple”. How odd.

Then, (a long time) later, while exploring the 3rd Layer, Melia stumbles across a deathbed journal entry written by a Garufa Inc. volunteer named Emma. It reads as follows.

My name is Emma. I undertook the Archetype's power today, and it failed miserably. I was unable to manifest its power and was mortally wounded during a test. I thought I actually had potential... but I guess not. The doctors say I don't have long left. It's cruel, isn't it? Life is just so cruel. But this is the path me and all the other volunteers chose. Humanity has nothing left but us. ...Is it all worth it in the end, though? What do we want to survive for? ...Anyway. I'm losing energy fast. Garufa Incorporated is our last hope. Please, save us.

Melia expresses to Nim that she finds it odd that this person and her Blacksteeple cover share a name. Nim passes this off as a coincidence, and understandably so. Emma isn’t exactly a rare name (though perhaps things are different in the world of rejuvenation?). The coincidence still seems to bother Melia for some reason.

Now, there are a LOT of theories about Melia out there. Despite hours and hours of gameplay, her true identity has yet to be revealed.

People have theorized for years that she is Maria, and the game seems to heavily imply that that is the case. If Anathea had four children, Erin, Maria, Alice, and Allen, and Erin, Melia, Alice, and Allen know that they share a mother, Anathea, then it would logically follow that Melia is Maria. In addition, Melia and Maria physically resemble each other, Melia is unsure of her origins prior to meeting Jenner, and Maria has not otherwise made an appearance in the current timeline (besides the whole Marianette ordeal in Gearen Sewers). So, it’s not exactly a dramatic leap.

It is eventually even addressed by the characters themselves. When Erin directly asks for her opinion on this matter, Melia balks, and seemingly contradicts herself.

MELIA: Hahah... I guess I've known for a long time that I was Maria. Ever since our interaction with Angie, that name has been going through my head in my dreams. But I have to disagree, Erin. I am not Maria. ERIN: But out of the process of elimination, you must be. MELIA: Sorry, but it's true. That's what my mind is telling me, desperately. I am not Maria. I am not Maria. That's what echoes in my head.

If Melia is and is not Maria, then… how…? In what way? Who is she? Why would she share a connection with Erin? Why is she the only one with Genesis Syndrome? And what does Emma have to do with all of this? I don’t really have an answer. But there is something I want to muse on.

Let’s circle back to Melia’s “disguise”, if we can even call it that. Her cover as Emma made her look like an entirely different person, unrecognizable to the Player character. She has a different outfit, hair color, and eye color. If we are to believe that this is an ordinary disguise, we would need to believe that, with one slash, Madame X was able to tear through a wig, two color contacts, and an entire outfit, including thigh high boots. We would need to believe that Melia conveniently decided to wear a different outfit underneath this disguise, and that Madame X was able to slash off her exterior outfit without marring the one underneath. We would also need to believe that the special, dark, magical animation the occurs at this moment was purely aesthetic and meaningless.

So, yeah, I don’t really believe it this disguise is your regular, run-of-the-mill costume.

We learn that Melia was sent to Blacksteeple through the powers of Spacea and Tiempa. She was on a mission as a Storm Chaser, to save the Player character and gather information. As we know (all too well) from V13.5, Spacea and Tiempa are powerful. Specifically, they have powers over space and time akin to Palkia and Dialga. They use these powers pretty recklessly to manipulate many characters throughout the story. However, every instance of power they exhibit is strictly tied to their dimensions, space and time. Spacea does magic related to space. Tiempa does magic related to time. So, how, then, would they be able to create such a magical disguise for Melia? Through Garufan dress-up magic? Creating an illusion? Maybe. I wouldn’t be shocked. But I think it’s more than that. I think that Spacea and Tiempa used their magic to revive a version of Melia from the past, a different dimension, or a different “layer” (past world?). Perhaps… the third layer. A different appearance. A different life. Emma.

I think of it sort of like what happened with Narcissa during the Dufaux sidequest. But, instead of S+T directly swapping Melia with Emma, they just projected the appearance of Emma onto Melia.

There isn’t much to support or detract from this speculation. What we do know? We know that Melia is and is not Maria. We know that both Melia and Emma struggle to manifest the Archetype's power. We know that Emma resides in Melia’s cognition, like Melanie. We know Melia was deeply bothered by Emma’s journal entry in the Third Layer. We know that the outfit Melia dons when using her powers is very reminiscent of Emma’s.

We also know that Emma is dead.

Or, at least, presumed dead.

Just like Aevis, Aevia, Aria, Axel, Aero, and Alain.

You see where I’m going with this?

We know Emma dies disappointed, having believed she had “potential”, according to her journal entry. Did someone else think she had potential too? Perhaps, her “majesty” herself?

I know I’m not the only one to theorize that Melia is another Interceptor. I mean, it is heavily implied throughout the story. Melia is one of two characters for which we have seen Variya appear. The other, of course, being the player character. Melia is able to enter Zeight. In fact, she enters her own Zeight a couple of points during the game. She is shown with the triangular core motif a couple of times as well. She has led a lot of the research about the Interceptor phenomenon, in the Blakeory Athenaeum, for example.

How this all ties in with Maria, though? I don’t know. In the case of the Player character, we know that A-team didn’t want to live, and agreed to let Variya choose a different soul to take control over their body. Presumably, that soul is us, literally, the player, the person playing the game. Could Maria be the soul taking over Emma? Could Emma be the soul taking over Maria?

Who knows.

I do know there are holes in these theories. I know the events of the Renegade Route may complicate everything. (truthfully, I am too much of a wuss to complete the renegade route myself. I watched a youtube video of someone else's playthrough, so I know the broad strokes of what happens, but I definitely don't know the renegade lore in the same way I know paragon. maybe I should rewatch it at some point and take notes)

But this has been bouncing around my brain for too long and I wanted to put it in writing to help organize my thoughts. If you made it this far, wow, you rock! Thanks for reading. I’m interested if anyone has thoughts about this, if anyone can potentially disprove it, or if anyone has their own version or counter version of this idea! I live for this shit.

#pokemon rejuvenation #13.5 #theory #melia #emma #maria #just wanted to dump this somewhere

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sineala · 11 months

Note

So, Tony’s marrying Emma Frost now? I feel like Tony’s the only character that toss around like this, in that sense. What number wife will this be?

Uh... one, assuming it happens? Tony has never been canonically married before in 616.

He has had one retconned engagement to a woman named Joanna Nivena, who left him when he decided to be Iron Man. He was serious enough about Rumiko Fujikawa to want to marry her, IIRC, but he never had the chance to propose to her before she was killed. He proposed to Patsy and she said no. As far as I know, that's it. He's dated a lot of characters and he's generally very serious about them and I wouldn't be surprised if canon had said he had seriously considered marrying at least a few others that I can't name off the top of my head, but, yeah, he's only been engaged once.

(Across the multiverse, he's clearly been in serious relationships at least a few other times and famously engaged to Natasha in Ults, but the only non-MCU universe I can think of right now where canon has focused on him being married to anyone is the one where he's married to... Steve.)

Also, this shouldn't really be a surprise to anyone? We have known Tony and Emma have had a Friends With Benefits thing going, as was established in Civil War, like, fifteen years ago. We have specifically known for the past four years that the wedding was coming, ever since History of the Marvel Universe came out in 2019, and made several prophetic statements about the future, including this:

This is not coming out of nowhere; we have had four years of lead time. So far I think about half the things on that page have come true. Maybe more? I haven't checked in a while. So honestly for the past four years of comics I have been saying that I was still waiting for the Tony/Emma wedding, as the prophecy foretold, and that it seemed likely to be some kind of politically-motivated marriage for mutant/human relations especially given that Tony is canonically a member of the Hellfire Club, which has also been true for years, and that seems to be exactly how this is playing out, judging by today's announcement. As I was expecting.

I really like how Duggan has been writing Tony, and how he's been writing Tony and Emma, and I've always thought it would be interesting to see more Tony/Emma in canon, so I think this is gonna be a lot of fun while it happens and maybe there will be more Tony/Emma fic because the few I have read have been great. Tony in relationships with telepaths has been something I've thought was interesting for a while and I don't think we're ever getting Marianne Rodgers back, so Emma it is.

Given Marvel's track record with their characters' marriages I feel that there's no way this is lasting more than six months assuming the marriage happens at all (as the prophecy only foretells a wedding) and honestly I'm hoping no one sells them to Mephisto because seriously, he already also collected Strange and Clea's marriage for a bit in addition to Peter/MJ. I don't know why that dude wants marriages so much.

Honestly, if you want to talk about weird and unexpected canonical relationships involving Emma Frost, I am STILL not over the part where it appears to be canon right now that (1) Steve and Sharon have been in an open relationship for a while, (2) Steve and Emma slept together at the last Hellfire Gala, and (3) it was mommy kink. Because I assure you I absolutely didn't see that coming.

So basically I am intrigued now that the time of Tony/Emma is upon us as foretold in the prophecy. Also I hope fandom brings me some It's Complicated Steve/Tony/Emma because I can't believe we're really just going to leave the canon Steve/Emma thing alone, fandom, and oh my God it is all SO MUCH. Comics. Comics are so Very Comics sometimes.

#replies #stark-phd

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candlemouse · 6 months

Text

Alyssa Walks Alone

Alyssa visits Kendra’s grave on her high school graduation day, trying to get answers to her many questions.

653 words

Alyssa was at the cemetery again. Though, “again” implies the last time was recently, and that wasn’t true. It worried her parents too much to go too often, but this was a special occasion.

Dirt smudged her expensive graduation robes, but she didn’t want to save them by standing. She wanted to sit, to be closer to Kendra, and so she did, 75 dollar one-time clothes be damned.

It was supposed to be their day.

So many things were supposed to be their day. Birthdays, first days of schools, sleepovers, homecomings, proms—so many things were supposed to be with Kendra.

Whenever Alyssa arrived at such milestones without her, she felt so terribly alone. Despite new friends and old family members, there was always something missing. Someone missing.

Kendra.

It never got easier. People lied. It only got easier to forget. Alyssa could go days without thinking of Kendra, but when she remembered, it felt the exact same. The exact same hot tears, cold hands, tight lungs—it was always the same.

Well, except for today. Because today was worse.

Graduation. High school graduation!

Alyssa had put in 13 years to get her diploma this morning and to get to say “I did it.”

She had done fine throughout high school, alone, but if Kendra had been there, Kendra would have been able to blow them all out of the water. Alyssa knew it. She would have been able to say—that’s my friend, that smartie with the honors regalia.

She would have smiled at Alyssa as she walked across the stage and Alyssa would have done the same. They would have probably had a joint graduation party, and a big lunch with big flowers and big checks from relatives.

It would have been great.

Alyssa brushed away some of the dirt on the grave stone to read “Kendra Marie Sorenson.”

A memory came up and Alyssa snorted. Kendra had been so embarrassed of her middle name; she had thought it was way too common. Alyssa always countered that at least it was her middle name, because Alyssa shared her first name with, like, a million other girls at their school. Kendra buried her face in her pillow but turned her face slightly to say that she thought Alyssa was the best name anyone could have. The name was so…her. Alyssa would have told her that Marie literally sounded like the name a fairy would have, so even if Kendra maintained that Alyssa won the human name lottery then Kendra would have still bested the supernatural lottery.

The laughter turned to tears fairly quickly and Alyssa buried her face in her hands.

If they had had more years, maybe Alyssa could have found out if Kendra had also harbored the cute little caterpillars that bloomed into butterflies whenever Alyssa caught Kendra looking at her. Maybe then she could’ve known.

How will she ever get over it without knowing?

How will she ever meet anyone else and not wish it was just Kendra? That didn’t seem like a possiblility.

How was Alyssa ever going to move away for college when Kendra would always be right here, in Rochester?

How would she ever go somewhere where she couldn’t run to come visit Kendra when her day got rough or some customer yelled at her or Emma was causing drama again or when the loneliness and guilt and grief got so heavy Alyssa felt like she was the one with six feet of compressed dirt sitting on her chest?

How? There was no answer except that this fucking sucked. There were never any answers.

Why did Kendra have to go? Why did she have to die? Why didn’t they ever get to say goodbye?

Why wasn’t Kendra right here, right now?

Why wasn’t Kendra wiping away her tears and hugging her till her bones were crushed?

Why couldn’t it have been Alyssa?

Why, God?

Why?

Click this link to drop a kudos on ao3 to show your appreciation if you read please! <3

#fhdw #fablehaven #dragonwatch #alyssa carter #kendra Sorenson #kendralyssa #kendra/alyssa

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thenovelartist · 1 year

Text

IkePri headcanon - childhood friends

I'm getting cross-eyed from editing a novel, and this plot bunny started ravaging my brain. I had to take a break and write it so it would shut up. XD

IkePri Headcanon - what if the eight princes knew Emma in their childhood, only to reunite when she came to the palace as Belle?

(Long post under the cut because I don't write short things LOL)

Jin

They were neighbors growing up, so Jin had known her since they were babies.

Then his mom got sick and passed, and he was determined to make it to Rhodolite castle.

Her family was aiming to move in hopes of finding a better life, so Jin rode with them towards the capital of Rhodolite kingdom.

They felt pity for him, so they would help him out as much as they could if the king turned him away. Not that that happened.

However, Emma's family happened to find an opportunity to settle in the city, so Jin still crossed paths with them on occasion.

As they got older, they kept in touch less, but Jin always knew where to find Emma when he needed someone to talk to. She was always good for giving out everything from encouragement to scoldings to blunt advice.

That, and she made the best chocolate spice cake he'd ever known. He loved chatting over sweets with her.

Then came the bloodstained rose day. After that bloodbath, the torment in his mind grew too loud for him to handle alone. He ended up confiding in her what he did.

And then he cut off their friendship entirely.

He felt guilty. Dirty. Shameful. Why would a girl who had her act together want to be friends with a failed prince like him?

Besides, she was too bright, too full of love to give. They were both at the age that looking for marriage partners was reasonable, and he wanted her to find a good man without anyone getting the wrong idea about the two of them.

On top of that, he wasn't looking for true love the way she was. Although...

No, his position meant he couldn't make an exception for her, even if he wanted to, which he didn't.

Fast forward, and a Belle is chosen.

And that devil really brought Miss Pure-of-Heart into the castle.

Jin wouldn't leave her high and dry. Seeing as they were old friends, he would take responsibility for making sure she was taken care of.

But she only let him help her after she finished chewing him out for cutting her from his life.

(His brothers had a field day listening to that conversation.)

It wasn't long before they grew inseparable again, falling right back into their easy comradery they had built as youngsters.

It surprised him that she had remained unmarried. He would have thought she'd be settled with a family by now.

But he couldn't make any moves on her. She was a pure-hearted true love believer. And he... was not.

Yet his resolve snapped after seeing her at the graves on remembrance day.

Because she'd made it there before him, and that's when he realized she'd been here, laying flowers on those graves for years.

The way she looked at him when he arrived... it was like she'd never held those deaths against him. Like she'd forgiven him.

And when she leaned against his side, sliding her hand into his to hold as they stood there in mourning, he knew she still supported him, still believed in him, even after all these years.

Maybe there was such a thing as true love. And she made it mighty tempting to find out.

Chevalier

Her parents worked in the castle library, meaning she grew up in the castle.

Of course everyone had heard of the brutal beast child who isn't even human.

And it's not like Emma didn't see it, either.

Chevalier doesn't waste time with anyone, no matter what age. They were all terrified of him, anyway.

Except this infuriatingly incompetent simpleton who spent her days following her father around the library and dared to start conversations with Chevalier, of all people, over books.

He has made her run away in tears more than once.

But finally, she has the last word.

"You're just saying your a beast so you can pretend you're not human, but you're human as the rest of us!"

He makes it his mission to prove her wrong.

And she never accepts any answer. Even if it takes her a day or two, she will always find a retort.

It takes a while, but he finally accepts her as the amusing library simpleton.

And it's like that for years.

By the time they're teenagers, they've created a quasi-acquaintanceship. Which is the closest thing to a friendship Chevalier has ever had.

However, there comes a time she feels the need to grow up and leave the castle. To find her own job. Hence why she ends up working for a bookstore.

Chevalier now almost exclusively orders books through her.

However, that's all. Their relationship shifts strictly to a business one as Chevalier doesn't see the reason to waste time corresponding despite how saddened that makes him feel.

Then comes the time she is chosen for Belle. Despite Sariel knowing her already (he remembered everyone who had worked in the castle. He especially remembered the one girl that wasn't afraid of the brutal beast.) he feels she would be the perfect person to fill the position.

And when Chevalier discovers who was chosen, he's amused.

(His brothers almost have a heart attack upon seeing Chevalier, of all people, smiling. At a woman.)

Chevalier even dares to instigate conversation with her and teases her as much as he can. But he also invites her into his private library whenever she wishes.

In that month, he comes to realize that he is surprisingly upset by the prospect of her leaving again, only to never reappear.

Which only grows worse when he's chosen as king.

So he uses his authority to keep her there in the castle.

Now, they have all the time in the world to explore just why he feels this way.

Clavis

She was his first target ever.

She just had such fun reactions when he pulled a prank on her. He couldn't help but want to pull more and more.

You know the adage of "boys pull a girls' pigtails on a playground because he likes her"? Yeah. It's like that with pranks.

It's only because of a gentle warning from his loving mother that he stops pulling pranks on her and starts pulling them with her, instead.

He finds her yelling at him highly amusing. But not as amusing as her laughing along with him while trying to pretend it wasn't funny.

He soon finds himself clinging to her because she's the one person who is always there to give him the validation he needs.

Unfortunately, it's a double edged sword as she also just so happens to be there every time he's a failure. Every time he's a mess. Every time he's worthless and pathetic.

Yet, she never laughs at him. Never mocks him.

Instead, she's there to patch up any injuries (or just sooth his injured pride) and encourage him. And occasionally yell at him that he's an idiot for thinking he's a worthless fool.

She's one of the select few people who's seen him at his lowest. And he's learned to become okay with that.

As they grow up, they grow apart. But they never really lose touch. Clavis is very loyal to his people, you see. Particularly his favorite people.

So while he might not see her every day, he knows she works at the book shop and what exactly her hours are.

She always greets him with a scowl and some version of "what do you want, Clavis?"

Then Sariel ends up picking her as Belle.

Ohhh, this just got amusing.

They spend every day together, him taking it upon himself to show her around the castle and be her guide to all things about his brothers.

She'll never admit just how happy she is for that.

But then she chooses a king, meaning it's time for her to leave.

After having spent a month together attached at the hip, Clavis finds he's very opposed to letting her go.

So he finds a way to get her to stay.

She publicly laments over this.

Privately... she makes sure to tell him just how happy she is to be with her lovely lover.

Leon

She was a friend of the fourth prince. Officially, she was the daughter of the fourth prince's doctor, so she was around quite frequently.

Leon didn't hit it off with her right away. But they grew closer over time.

She was often there helping Leon with his studies, alongside the fourth prince.

What made them grow close was that Emma read off books for Leon to listen to. It was the greatest help in helping him learn and stay awake for long periods of time.

Then came the day the fourth prince passed, and everyone who knew that secret was slaughtered.

It broke Leon's heart, believing that Emma was among those gone. She was the closest thing he had to a friend. She treated him no differently than she had the prince. In her eyes and hers alone, Leon felt like an equal.

It made her loss a little harder to bear than others.

Fast forward several years, and he finds a woman in town that resembles her.

And that spice this woman has, slapping that man in the middle of the street square.

Absently, Leon runs a hand through his hair. Why does the back of his head hurt with that familiar sting of being smacked with a book, his mind lingering back to being yelled at by a fiery little girl for slacking off.

And then this woman was brought to the castle as Belle.

It's her. It has to be. But it takes Leon a few days to really accept that fact.

He absconds with her one evening, allowing him the privacy needed to confirm that fact.

Which she does. "You've gotten cocky."

He just laughs. Whole and hearty. It was her. And he couldn't be happier.

As they talk about the past, he learns that she had escaped death by accident. She had been running an errand and had gotten lost, effectively hiding her from the hired assassin.

She'd had to struggle finding her footing again, but she got taken in by the bookstore owner and had worked there ever since.

But now, the problem lies in the fact Leon is not going to let her go. She's the one person he can open his heart to, and the relief that gives him is not one he's going to give up any time soon.

Yves

She was the daughter of his wet nurse.

Literally raised together. For many years.

She was older, and bolder, so Yves used to follow her around.

And she was the one who paid the most attention to him when everyone wanted to stay away from the Half Obsidian prince.

He loved playing with her hair growing up. And she always let him.

They'd been seen more than once sitting in the garden, Emma showing Yves how to braid her hair and Yves decorating it with flowers.

They always snuck into the kitchen for treats and whatnot.

When they got old enough, he made his first dessert with her: a batch of cookies.

They pinky promised to make cookies together all the time.

But that promise could only last so long.

When Emma and her mother left the castle to pursue a job elsewhere, Yves was once again left alone.

He didn't like baking cookies for the longest time because of their pinky promise.

But an older brother has to take care of his younger brother when he looks sad and comments that he wants a cookie.

Fast forward, and Emma is brought in as Belle.

She notices Yves stalking her right away, but decides she'll pretend not to notice.

But after the third time of glancing his direction with a smile, he'll appear. Only to be teased by her that even as an adult, he's still following her around.

He gets all blushy, and fervently denies how happy he is about seeing her again.

She's the same as ever, judging him on his character instead of his birth and encouraging him like she used to.

But it's when they finally bake cookies together again that Yves realizes that he can't let her go. That he's scared to.

After all, who could love a half-obsidian monster?

(Well, the answer is not her, because she's sure to tell him he's not an unlovable monster. He's just a handsome, hard-working prince whom she loves very dearly.)

Licht

She was like him: the daughter of a songstress. The reason she was in the castle, though, was because she was also the daughter of the gardener.

He didn't always pay her much mind, but there was one thing that always stuck out about her.

She sang. Often.

And Licht liked to sing, when he could sneak away from his studies.

So he ended up singing along with her at times.

Nokto sometimes joined, but not always. He liked listening to Licht sing. Particularly with Emma. They always sounded so pretty.

And Licht lit up like the sunrise whenever he sang with her.

They sang together whenever they could. Up until the "incident" when Licht went silent.

Occasionally, she'd sneak through the castle and sing to him through his door. For the longest time, he buried his head under the covers and cried at the sound.

And just when Licht thought he might start singing again, she was gone, having moved out of the castle.

He regretted not singing with her one last time, but he supposed he deserved it for his actions.

Fast forward many years, and Belle is chosen.

Licht didn't recognize her right away. In fact, he didn't recognize her at all.

He just ignored her for the time being, finding a private moment to sing in the garden like he sometimes enjoyed doing. Only, this time a female voice joined him, harmonizing to his own.

But that voice sounded familiar, as did the way their voices blended together.

He couldn't help but start searching for the owner, actually growing excited as he did.

And then he spotted Belle. That's when he finally recognized her.

After that, he quickly warmed up to her. For once, he didn't just sing with her but actually spent time talking with her.

Beyond that, he spent time not talking with her. Instead, sitting silently as they shared sweets she made for him or walked around town.

And it scared him how much he wanted her to stay. He didn't deserve her.

But she'd been there when the incident happened. She knew everything, and she never judged him.

It didn't take long for him to surrender to her outpouring of love and decide he was going to steal this happiness for himself. But only this happiness, he'd never ask for anything more than her, his perfect harmony.

Nokto

She was the daughter of the palace doctor.

She was a few years older than the twins, actually. Which was why she felt responsible for watching out for them.

Particularly when she noticed they hid their injuries from their "punishments"

She forced her care on them quite frequently. And if they went into hiding to avoid her smothering hand, she would sneak bandages and salves into their rooms.

She always knew when they were hiding injuries. She was like Sariel that way, but nicer.

Which is why the twins soon surrendered to her treatments.

It wasn't anything special, per se, but Nokto and Licht both knew she was someone who was safe to be around.

And they loved when she let them hide in her room from Sariel. She could stand up against the devil, which earned both their respects.

But Nokto was the one who learned from her smooth tongue.

He found it impressive, the way she could slip her way out of conversations or get people to talk based on her words alone.

He didn't fully realize it might have just been her personality as well. He was too young to realize he'd been charmed by her, too.

After the incident, she was the one to check up on the twins, who each locked her out.

She knew right away that both the boys had trouble sleeping after that. Which was why she made tea for both the boys to help them sleep.

Nokto was the one who relied on it the most. He just wanted to disappear from the world. So even though the tea she made him was bitter, it would make the world go away, just for a little while.

But then Emma left, finding work in town and taking that tea with her.

At first, he was disappointed he didn't get her recipe. But it wasn't long until he realized he missed her safe presence, as well.

The world really was crumbling around him, and he accepted it.

Until she came back as Belle.

At first, he didn't want her close. He used that sly tongue he'd acquired to push her away.

Not that it worked.

He'd charmed so many women in his life, but as always, she never was blinded by the lies.

Which made him back away as he felt so vulnerable in front of her.

But just as she had growing up, she never let either twin hide his injuries from her. She hunted him down until Nokto was tired of running.

In the end, he rediscovered that feeling of safety she carried with her. And he basked in it.

The fox had found his den to hide in, and now he wasn't going to let anyone take it away from him. For once, he was going to prove he could be a protector, instead of just letting others do the protecting.

Luke

She was Luke's neighbor growing up. So she knew his sister, and she knew how Luke was treated.

Being a little older than him, she wanted to take care of him.

She was always sneaking him food. Which he was very grateful for, but it always made him feel indebted to her.

Soon enough, Luke basically accepted her as an older sister, protecting her as much as he did Leyla. And Emma was sure to smoother the two siblings in as much love as she could.

Since Luke is such a good brother, he swore to protect Emma too. He even made her a teddy bear.

Then came Bloodstained rose day.

Emma was with Leyla when the chaos descended, and she'd gotten injured as well, but when Luke came, she left Leyla with Luke and ran to find help.

She was the one who got Jin's attention before passing out at his feet.

He handed her off to a different soldier before going to rescue the two kids she'd pointed out.

That day, Luke lost both his sisters. His torment was hellish.

Time passed, and Luke was eventually invited to the castle.

He was going to find the prince that took his two precious sisters away from him.

And then Belle was brought in.

The moment he saw her, Luke's world turned upside down. Because he'd never forget her face.

At the first opportunity, he cornered her alone. "Emma?"

And when she gave him the sweetest smile, tears welling up in her eyes, he felt like his knees would give out from under him. "I knew that was you, Luke."

This broken man breaks into tears with relief. Yes, he'd lost one sister, and that torment still ravaged his heart, but his other one was still here, still alive and well.

Turned out that Jin had brought Emma back to the capitol where he'd allowed her to work as a maid until she was old enough to find a job on her own in town. Though he would have allowed her to stay, she didn't want to take advantage of his kindness anymore.

Learning everything tears Luke in two. Jin took one sister away from him, his little sister, but saved his other one? Why? Why, why why?

It's a long road, but the reappearance of his wonderful sister throws Luke through such a loop he can't even make out which way is up anymore.

Emma talks Luke out of revenge. It's a hard path to tread, but it allows Luke and Jin to start reconciling.

While Emma is at the palace, she encourages Luke to start up prince lessons right away. Because heaven forbid that Luke allows his sister to see him slacking.

Er... maybe... not his sister? The more time they spend together, the more un-sisterly thoughts Luke has about her.

And by the time Emma has chosen a king and is preparing to head back into town, Luke is adamant about not letting her go.

Which inspires Emma to confess her own growing feelings.

Congratulations: they are now inseparable.

Despite feeling unworthy of her, Luke is never letting her go again. Ever. His world revolves around her, and his only goal in life is to make her proud.

And if that means being a prince, then so be it.

#ikepri #ikemen prince #ikepri headcanons #This has been edited once and is a verb tense disaster but I don't care #ikepri jin #ikepri chevalier #ikepri clavis #ikepri leon #ikepri yves #ikepri licht #ikepri nokto #ikepri luke

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ohmightydevviepuu · 3 months

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imperfect boys. perfect ploys. (this is a song about tragedy) [4/6]

“My ‘story’ is that I left a fucked-up situation and it kind of fucked me up,” he’d said. But it was the way he’d said it, like it hadn’t broken him. Like it was just a fact. But Emma’s life was a story, too. A fucked-up situation that had kind of fucked her up. She wasn’t that kid anymore. Confidence could be learned. And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t broken, either. Not if she picked up the pieces. Not if she told herself a new story. About who she was. About what she wanted. Roots, family, friends, a sense of the familiar—these did not have to be fairy tales. “You owe it to yourself,” Mary Margaret said. “Happy endings always start with hope.”

–

S3 post-neverland canon divergence. 20k of no-curse renaissance.

read it on AO3

to @wistfulcynic and @thisonesatellite who sat with me while we daydreamed on a hilltop in cornwall on the summer-iest summer day england has ever seen. it took me eight months but i got there in the end.

thank you to @shireness-says for time and feedback and kindness to the IAS @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @idoltina @initiala @thejollyroger-writer @phiralovesloki for always giving me a cheer when i needed it

twelve. 'what the kiss exposed.'

He could have told himself it was an hallucination.

After all, Killian had been three sheets to the wind when he’d seen Pan. He could easily have imagined the exact combination of deepest sorrow and biggest nightmare conjured by the idea of Neal Cassidy being alive. Only he knew Pan far too well to tell himself that. The demon was many things; unfortunately, he was rarely a liar. Why bother, when the truth was a far more potent weapon?

Thus, and so: Neal sat at the other end of the cave—doubled over in a cage built for a boy, not a man. Killan took a deep breath, seeing too late the moment when Emma noticed. An echo of the same look she’d had when her mother blurted out Neal’s predicament. The way she’d turned toward him immediately and for the first time Killian had been unsure. Did she want him to confirm the story? To say that yes, Neal was alive?

Or was she hoping he said no? That it was just another game?

What kind of man was he?

“I kissed Emma,” Killian said. He said it to the cave. To Neal. To her parents.

To Emma.

It was a game, all right. But he would play.

“My secret is that I never thought I’d be capable of letting go of my first love. My Milah.”

Milah had been everything, for so long. Too long. Killian knew that now—knew the pain and anger and hate had ossified inside him during his time in Neverland. He knew it now in a way he never could have before, because he’d left. Somehow, in doing that, he had started to heal.

He hadn’t meant to.

It was only in coming back to the island that he could see it.

Or maybe it was in coming back with a new goal—save the boy—that clarified things.

Bae’s son. Milah’s grandson.

Maybe it was the kiss he could still taste on his lips. Not the first kiss he’d had since he’d lost Milah but surely the first kiss that mattered. The first kiss that reminded him they could matter.

But villains didn’t get happy endings and all magic came with a price. Killian had wanted to save Bae, too. He’d given up his chance then but he could pay the price now and be glad for it, if that’s what it took. “I never believed that I could find someone else,” he said. His eyes were on Emma. Only on Emma. “Until I met you.”

The walls shook. The ground shook. Parts of the path began to materialize but Emma stood stock still, frozen where she stood. Eyes wide and lips pressed together and face whiter than a sheet, she stood. She said not a word—though she shuddered bodily as her mother’s confession and then her father’s caused more and more of the pathway to appear until finally it was her turn and she strode, still silent, all the way to the cage.

She still loved him. Neal. Killian knew that—had known it from almost the instant they’d met and she’d lied to him. I’ve never been in love, she’d said, because she wanted it to be true.

Would she admit that—now, here?

Did she have a choice?

The cage surrounding Neal vanished and he hurled himself at Emma, into her open arms. Together, they stood. Together, they returned.

“Thank you,” Neal said. “How—“

“We found your star map,” Killian said, forestalling any additional conversation. “Can you get us off this island?”

Neal nodded. “Once we find Henry, I can get us home.”

“Then let’s go get Tinker Bell and retrieve the boy.” Killian led the way out of the cave with David and Snow close behind him. Clearly, he was not the only one who had heard too many truths this night.

But then he heard something else. Something he was probably not meant to hear.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said.

“Don’t be. Because I have a secret, too, Emma. I’m never gonna stop fighting for you. For us. Never.”

A man who refused to fight for what he wanted deserved what he got.

But Neal had refused, before.

They both had. Killian had let Bae go. He had left the Savior in a cell.

Villains didn’t get happy endings.

So. What kind of man was he?

thirteen. lunch (iv)

Lunch was fine.

Neal was trying. Very. And very hard. The better part of a week, now, and Emma was starting to wonder how long this would last. Six days, eleven months, eleven years—or a lifetime.

With Neal, she never knew; all she could do was wait.

She’d loved him. She loved him. She really was glad he hadn’t died. Really. What she’d said to him in the Echo Cave—well, it had been the truth and she’d said it to save him.

She’d said it to save herself.

And she might not regret it but he sure as shit seemed determined to overcome it, to do better, to Make an Effort. He’d done everything except apologize.

But then there was this: Hook and Tink, at the bar. Emma’s mug was empty because Ruby was back there too, laughing as Hook’s flask went back and forth between the three of them. Neal was watching—watching Hook—watching Emma watching Hook.

It was the clothes.

He’d changed them.

“You’re not worried about him or something are you?” The tone in Neal’s voice made her wary. “He’s adaptable. Obviously.”

“I’m not worried,” Emma said. “Why would I worry about Captain Hook?” The coat was gone. The blazer-style leather jacket was absolutely an improvement, the way the sleek lines flowed over his back and his shoulders, but Emma had so rarely seen him without the coat that it was a shock.

“You’re not even curious?”

“No,” she said. “I’ve been kind of busy, Neal. You know that. We’re here together every day. I pick up Henry from school. We have dinner with my parents on the nights you’re not with your dad and Belle. Have you even seen him try to talk to me since we’ve been back?”

“No.” Neal picked up his cup and made a face when it was empty. “He told me he wouldn’t.”

“What?” She kept her voice even because she wasn’t surprised. It hadn’t been scribbled on the rock of a Neverland cave or anything but the fiasco in the Dark Hollow had put the writing on the wall.

“When I talked to him. You know, about us, and he—” Neal looked up then, his eyes searching for a respite or a refill but Ruby wasn’t there, not today, she was locked behind the bar watching them—the entire diner watching them all over again. Listening.

“I’m just wondering why he’s still here, I guess,” Neal said. “It’s like I said, Em, you have this—this way about you. It makes people think stuff they shouldn’t. Believe in stuff they shouldn’t. Want stuff they shouldn’t. Makes them want to be a part of something.”

Emma blinked.

And again.

When she could speak she said, “He left me.” It was the truth—he’d left her in the dungeon. He’d left her on the docks, too.

But he’d come back.

fourteen. lunch (v)

Lunch was fine—Grilled cheese. Swish-swish. Grumpy. She could do this— but then it wasn’t. She should have seen it coming.

She should have planned for it.

She was a professional.

But they hadn’t talked about it, her and Neal. Not about this or about any of the other things. And definitely no one was saying the ‘m’ word.

Magic.

Regina was at the bar with Tink. Regina and Tink. Regina and Tink? Emma knew enough to know that whatever she’d done to Tink was among the many things Regina didn’t regret. She also knew it didn’t matter; they’d all gotten home, Tink included. The Evil Queen and the former fairy were laughing as they talked.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen her in here,” Neal said.

A comment about Neal’s extensive Storybrooke experience died on Emma’s lips only because he was right. She hadn’t seen Regina in the diner since the queen had pulled them out of the Wishing Well all of those months ago.

Another lifetime.

“What’s she doing here?” Neal said.

“Eating lunch, I guess.” Emma gestured with her half-eaten grilled cheese. “We’re supposed to meet up this afternoon.”

“You. And her?”

Emma shrugged. “She’s Henry’s mother.” A thought occurred to her. “And she’s my grandmother. Sort of. I guess.” Wow, that Thanksgiving dinner would suck.

“And you’re okay with that.” Neal was incredulous.

“I am.”

“I’m not.”

“Thank goodness you don’t get a say,” Emma said. “We’re home and together because of her.”

“We’re home because of you.”

“And this is home now? For you? You’re staying?”

“My family is here. Our family is here—”

“—including Regina—”

“And I meant it, Em. I want to fight for us.”

Emma exhaled. It was a lot, all of this. All of these…moments. She said, “Then we’re not fighting about Regina.” The noise—the cup as she slammed it down, or maybe the rising pitch of her voice—made half the diner look up. Including, thank fuck, Regina. The Evil Queen raised her eyebrow and rolled her eyes and tapped her watch impatiently.

Emma stood. Carefully. Slowly. “I have to go. Apparently I’m already late for my magic lesson.”

“Your what?”

“Regina is teaching me magic,” Emma said, watching the look on Neal’s face freeze, then vanish. “We’re meeting up every day to practice and, I don’t know. Bond.”

“Since when?”

“Since today,” Emma said. “Forgive me if we needed a couple of days to recover from inter-dimensional travel before figuring out the routine.”

“Do realms count as inter-dimensional travel? That feels more like a video game thing,” Neal said, and Emma laughed. Strained. Forced.

“Ask Henry,” she suggested. “I’ll see you later.”

Fine. It was fine.

The bell rang and the door opened as if by magic, but Emma was watching Neal as she tried to walk through and was stopped by six feet of black leather and eyeliner. The coat was gone, but it was still Captain Hook in front of her: his uniform, his armor. The perfect black marks hugging the waterlines of his eyes as he looked at her.

“Whoa. Beware of lurking pirates.”

He didn’t answer but he did back away as if the impact of their collision had shocked him.

“Miss Swan?” Regina’s voice. Regina, behind them. Emma could practically hear the eyebrows accompanying the impatience and the sarcasm. She looked up; their eyes caught, and held. His crinkled at the edges with the twitch of his lips. Hers narrowed as she took him in, top to bottom.

“Miss Swan!”

Hook snapped to attention, holding the door open. “Your Majesty,” he said. A gallant bow to accompany the exaggerated drawl. “Sheriff.”

It was fine.

fifteen. 'i've yet yo see you fail'

I was hoping it meant something.

I believe in good form.

When I win your heart, Emma—and I will win it—it will not be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me.

I have yet to see you fail.

All of it true.

None of it mattered.

He was a sentimental fool. And now he was going to die because of it.

Having one’s shadow pulled was not for the faint of heart. No, not pulled—ripped. It left no room for thought; not of the past, not for the future. Bae. Neal. Emma. David. Liam. Henry.

There was only agony.

Agony, and failure.

The rest of it only came rushing back as he hit the ground. Feelings filling in the void left by his failure.

Not hers. Never hers. Killian had seen her magic in the Enchanted Forest. Had seen it repel Cora. Cora. And here she couldn’t even light a candle. Because of them.

He had failed her. They had failed her—distracted her. They had put everything in jeopardy.

And the boy.

“We almost lost our shot at capturing the Shadow—and getting the hell out of here—because you two were fighting. Over a lighter.”

“It wasn’t the lighter we were fighting over, love,” Killian said. It came out more defensive than he would have liked. Less like the apology it should have been. He was angry—everything he had said, everything that had passed between them—they had kissed. And it had meant something.

He was sure of it.

What meant something was that you told us Neal was alive. That’s what she’d said. And he’d chosen his friend, just as she had chosen Henry. The anger faded. Her only focus right now should be the boy. Every moment here was another one in danger. Every moment here was another chance for Pan. A new game. With new rules.

Peter Pan never failed.

But neither did Emma Swan, and Killian was tired of playing Pan’s games. The mission—that was what mattered; finding Henry and getting him home. That was why he had steered his ship back to Storybrooke in the first place. Why he had given the heroes the bean and welcomed the Dark One and the Evil Queen and Prince-bloody-Charming on his ship, not because Emma Swan had asked him to but because Baelfire couldn’t.

If Killian was a man of honor, then he needed to honor that first. No more games. They would get the boy and get off this rock. They would find a way. That’s what heroes did.

Then—and only then—could the fun begin.

sixteen. magic lessons

White smoke.

A tiny curl—not even a puff, and certainly not a poof—but white smoke. A lit candle. The power sang beneath her skin. The flame danced in time with her heartbeat. Such a simple thing, to light a candle, but every nerve ending in her fingers tingled as she breathed in and out.

“Hmm,” Regina said. A noise more than a word. Emma didn’t like the curve of her eyebrows as she said it, the furrow of the brow. She didn’t like what came next, either: “Do it again.”

“But—“ Emma gestured, emphatically, at the smoke. So what if it was already fading? The candle still danced when she moved. “I did it! And it wasn’t an accident, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Good. Then do it again.”

Deep breath. She had signed up for this. Eyes closed, she reached for the flame, curling her hand around its heat, dimming it until it went out. Flicked her wrist and focused—

“Miss Swan.”

White smoke. Again. Emma turned to Regina. “I hate it when you call me that.”

“Again.”

“What?”

“Do it again.”

“Come on, that was pretty good! Are you going to tell me that wasn’t—”

“No. It was. I’m sure it will be even better when you do it again. Miss Swan.”

Steady, even breathing. Focus. She breathed in and out, her temper flaring but in check, her anger as fleeting as the smoke. As she reached for the candle the only thing she felt was magic. Magic, and rightness.

The flame flickered. Regina was smiling, if it could be called a smile when her lips were pressed that closely together and her expression was that smug. No, it wasn’t a smile. “What’s with the—” Emma waved a hand in the air between them, mimicking Regina’s expression. The flame flickered with her movement but did not go out.

“I could ask the same of you.”

Emma blinked. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“What is going on with you?”

“…nothing?” Emma winced; that had been nearly as convincing as Regina’s smile.

“You forget that I know magic—”

“As if you would ever let me,” Emma muttered.

“—and, as much as I’d rather not, I know you. Miss Swan. In Neverland, you were anxious. Distracted.”

“Distracted? Our son had been kidnapped by a fucking demon and his army of Lost Boys!” The flame brightened.

“All the more reason to concentrate, don’t you think? Magic is about emotion. Magic is about focusing that emotion. But you weren’t. You could barely make smoke, and you could not light a candle to save your life.”

Emma swallowed. That was—accurate. “What are you saying, Regina? Don’t be gentle. It’s not like you.”

“Something’s happened. Something’s changed. The proof is right there.” She pointed at the candle. “You’re focused. Determined. You’re calm, Emma. And I just want to make sure that, after everything, you’re not here wasting my time.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“We both know what your precious Neal thinks when it comes to magic,” Regina said. “He’s terrified of it. What are you going to say when he tells you to quit? When he tells you not to trust me? When he says that he doesn’t trust you, not with this?”

“He’s not my anything,” Emma said, bristling.

“Every day you parade him through that diner with the Charmings hovering in the background, waiting to announce the betrothal—”

The flame exploded, a miniature shower of sparks and black smoke.

“Hmmm.” The not-smile was back. “Now fix it.”

Emma’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out—just a text—and exhaled. Slowly. Breathing under control. Because she could. She could fix it. She would—“Listen.”

Regina’s face flashed white but it wasn’t anger. And then before Emma could blink it was gone as if it had never existed.

She shoved the phone back into the pocket and said “About Neal—”

Then she stopped. Regina was right. They knew each other, whether they wanted to or not. They were family, whether they wanted it or not. And what Emma wanted more than almost anything was for that word to mean something. Something, anything, that would make their fucked-up family tree matter beyond the tangled backstory of a fairy tale—a choice, not an obligation.

So before she said another word Emma squared her shoulders and held her hand out. The candle flared, shuddering in its soft dance.

“Neal is afraid of his father,” Regina said. “But let me assure you, Miss Swan, that whatever he thinks of his father, I’ve seen all of it and worse. I’ve survived all of it. And worse.”

Emma didn’t say a word. She didn’t move, or breathe; even the candle stilled.

“I will not allow your deadbeat Lost Boy to turn my son against me, or my magic. And I don’t think you will, either. Emma.” Their eyes met over the flame and they watched as it dimmed.

The phone rang, and they jumped. Both of them. And the time for confidences was over, snuffed—with the flame—in a puff of smoke.

David was calling. “Dad?”

“Emma. I need you down at the station.”

“What? Why?”

“Neal’s here.” David paused. “He says he doesn’t know where Henry is.”

“Fuck.” Emma sighed; David didn’t say anything but the stench of parental disapproval nearly made the phone vibrate. “Fudge.”

“Just get over here, okay?” The call ended. The candle started smoking. Emma was a professional. Emma had a plan. And in that moment, Emma had only one thought in her head as she focused: Enough.

Poof.

She was gone. And in her wake was a trail of white smoke.

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

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