#cora mills can choke | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eirian-houpe · 3 years

Text

The Pawn Shop On Main Street - Chapter 1

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Mad Hatter | Jefferson & Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Additional Tags: Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Angst, Romance, Eventual Smut, Will add more as apropriate

Summary: Gold is suddenly awakened from the curse, not by the fail-safe that he programmed into his mind, but by the unexpected presence of his long lost maid, with whom he fell in love well before Regina cast his Dark Curse, Rumplestiltskin must now find a way past Belle's disbelief and fear. She is still under the influence of the curse. With the help of his dear - his oldest - friend, Gold seeks a way past obstacles so that he can rekindle the love which he rejected back in the Dark Castle.

The story is set in the same 'verse as The Library Beneath the Clock Tower, and could be considered a sequel of sorts.

Chapter 1 - Old Friends

He felt drawn to her. He could not look away, his gaze transfixed as her eyes took in the fireworks bursting overhead. They paled by comparison. Nothing could compare.

…a brief flicker of light in an ocean of darkness.

The thought caught him off guard, as if he were standing on the edge of a fall, with a gust of wind buffeting him toward the edge. He felt suddenly thirsty - the earth waiting for the cloud above his head to burst like the sparkles and fizzles overhead.

All this time she had been right there, within reach, the meaning that had been missing for as long as he could remember - as long as he had been in Storybrooke. It made sense of everything he’d done, but at the same time made no sense at all.

Suddenly afraid, for no reason he could understand, he took a step closer, right behind her, caressing her fingers softly, before taking her hands, slowly, into his own. Their fingers entwined.

It flashed through him in a pulse; bright, vibrant, burning away the fog of years and realms.

She mocked him. Regina mocked him - how dare she, and yet, he had no energy, and even less will to react to her impudence.

“Is this about that girl I met on the road?” She laughed and stalked the room, her hips swaying in exaggerated sensuality. It reminded him of Cora, and that did little to change his mood… the reminder of other betrayals, other… abandonments. Regina glanced his way. “What was her name? Margie? Verna?

Rumplestiltskin barely breathed her name. “Belle.”

Suddenly business-like, this evil queen he had created, said matter-of-fact as she fixed herself some tea - uninvited, “Right. Well... you can rest assured I had nothing to do with that tragedy.”

He stopped idly spinning the wheel and turned to walk toward her, all but willing pox into the cup she was stirring, “What… tragedy?”

“You don't know?” Regina asked as though scandalized, then chuckled as she cleaned the spoon with her mouth and set it down. “Well, After she got home… her fiancé had gone missing.” He feigned innocence, but Regina knew. Her expression told him so. She took only a few steps away before turning around. “And after her stay here, her… association… with you, no one would want her, of course. Her father shunned her, cut her off, shut her out.”

Hope flared in his heart, and in an unguarded moment, he let the words slip from deep within that hope. “So she needs… a home?”

Regina laughed cruelly, though whether at what had happened, or at him for his weakness he was uncertain, then went on, “He was cruel to her. He locked her in a tower and sent in clerics to cleanse her soul with scourges and flaying. After a while, she threw herself off the tower. She died.”

She spoke the last two words with such careless triumph that the urge to throttle the life from the conniving bitch almost choked him… murdered his hope.

“You're lying,” he growled.

“Am I?” she countered, leaving him cold and dead inside.

He wanted to be angry now, to rail against the lies Regina had told him, blatant fabrications, right to his face, and yet… Here was his light. Hale, whole and…

“You’re real,” he breathed. “You’re alive!”

He moved closer yet, moving his fingers again in a soft, quiet caress. The curse was lifted, he remembered. Everything, and oh, how beastly he had been when they had last seen one another. When he had sent her away.

”I’m not a coward, dearie. It’s quite simple really… my power… means more to me than you.”

She pulled herself up to her full, diminutive height, and looked him full in the face. “No. No, it doesn't. You just don't think I can love you. Now, you've made your choice. And you're going to regret it.”

His heart broke as her voice quivered - a roar of pain that almost drowned out her following word, “Forever.”

He curled his hands into fists. His hard, pointed talons left wheal marks in his palms, but he couldn’t allow her to see how much her words affected him.

“And all you'll have... is an empty heart,” her voice broke, and she forced herself to go on, “and a chipped cup.”

Her eyes were filled with tears, but she held his gaze, and he had to push his own rising tears deep inside lest he belie his words. Not until she had turned, and walked away, out of the cell, and out of his life… forever… and he could no longer see or hear her, did he move - and then only to close his eyes.

Was she feeling this too? Did she remember? A part of him hoped not; hoped that fate had delivered him a way to right the wrongs of his past; to woo her, to love her as she deserved to be loved, and yet, the Dark One knew that ‘loopholes’ was another word for lies. Gold wanted no more lies.

For a moment, one sweet, sharp moment she leaned against him, tightened her fingers around his, and he knew… he knew without any doubt that she remembered. At least in that moment, she remembered.

“Belle,” he whispered.

Then, like the icy fall of rain that dampened even the hottest fire, she snatched her hands from his, and he was suddenly frozen, bereft. Helpless to do anything other that watch with mounting fear as she turned to face him; tried with all his heart to let her see that she had been right all along - that she had the measure of him, and not only that - but now, in the face of seeing her again, though he wanted nothing more than to reach out and draw her into his arms, hold her forever - protected, loved - he was still a coward.

“Belle,” he whispered again, reaching too late to catch her as she picked up her skirts and fled. He cried out for her, as he should have done then, in the Dark Castle - called her back, “Belle!”

His cry was echoed a moment later and he registered a familiar voice behind the calling. His friend, Jefferson. A Storybrooke friend, yes, but the Dark One’s only friend through all the ages. How could he not have known?

He stared. He stared after Belle, who stopped at neither of their calling, and he stared toward Jefferson, meeting the horrified expression that mirrored his own.

The Hatter seemed torn, glanced away as if to find Belle in the crowd, but ultimately turned his steps and hurried to Gold’s side.

"You knew!" Gold almost sobbed, and reaching out, grabbed Jefferson by the lapels of his flamboyant, silk tailcoat and pulled him closer, almost shaking the man. "How could you know… know me and yet say nothing?"

Jefferson’s long fingers closed around his wrists, not to prevent, but to anchor, as if the Portal Jumper feared to let go and needed to hold him close as he spoke.

"The man you are here and I said that?" Jefferson said, pained, and only then Gold saw the tears that were gathered in the other man’s blue eyes. "How could I, and not have you cast me away?"

For all that he saw, for all that he felt, still Gold gave vent to his own pain. "But you were my… we were friends!"

Instead of words, Jefferson answered with cry, almost of anguish, and suddenly releasing his wrists, clutched Gold close.

"We are friends," he sobbed, clinging tightly. "We are!"

At first, startled, Gold struggled, tried to push Jefferson away, but as the present melted away leaving just the two of them alone on the rise above where the other revelers were lost in their drunken celebrations of the night, Gold… Rumplestiltskin missed his friend, and already held tightly in Jefferson’s embrace, pulled the man closer still, and held him through the maelstrom of all that he was - pawnbroker, landlord, deal maker, sorcerer, master, Dark One, killer, father, husband, lover… coward - all of it, every little piece of him returning in a rush, he clung to Jefferson like a man drowning.

Eventually, both spent, they each slumped, exhausted to the ground, mute and panting for breath, though as he looked across at Jefferson, Rumplestiltskin saw that silent tears still ran down Jefferson’s face. Intuitively he knew the cause.

“I didn’t know,” he said, and Jefferson raised his face to look at him, incomprehension in his wet and shining eyes. “Grace,” Gold offered. “I didn’t know what Regina planned.”

“I know,” Jefferson whispered, before finding his voice. “I have always known it was her doing, and hers alone.” He reached out for Gold’s hand, and he took it without hesitation, listening as Jefferson continued. “For all that we didn’t see things the same way much of the time; for all that we fought, I knew and never once doubted that you’d ever do something like that to another man, another father. I saw what you did for Baelfire and—”

“Bae,” Gold interrupted. His voice hoarse and rasping. He felt Jefferson’s fingers tighten around his own, and he took a breath. “If I had the power,” he said, “to undo what she did.”

“No!” Jefferson sounded alarmed, almost terrified, then went on more calmly, “No. Not until we can be together. Not until I can be sure she won’t hate me for abandoning her. She can’t know.” His voice cracked as he went on. “Cloe’s her mother here. She knows nothing about a foolish man who made a promise and then broke it; who abandoned her to ignominy and hardship.”

“Jefferson…”

The other man blanched, and releasing his grip on Gold held up both hands in surrender, as if he thought he’d just delivered some kind of terrible insult.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Gold murmured quietly.

“Then whose?” Jefferson shook his head; argued. “I can recite a whole litany of ‘if I hadn’ts’ going all the way back to before we first met. Who else’s fault can it be?”

Gold fixed him with a level, uncompromising look.

“No,” Jefferson said firmly. “You are not responsible for all the ills of every realm.”

Gold was silent for a long time. He knew Jefferson well enough to understand that when he had his mind fixed on something - especially something self-deprecating - there could be no moving him; not until he saw the truth of it for himself.

Both men sighed, almost at the same time, and that made Gold chuckle just a little, with a good deal of his own self-deprecation, before he said, “And that… that, my good man, is why you are the Dark One’s only true friend.”

Jefferson let out another sigh, then offered Gold a smile through half-pursed lips, and then started to push himself up off the ground where they had both fallen.

“I’ll find her,” he promised softly. “Make sure she’s safe and gets home all right. We can fix this. We’ll find a way.”

“Ever the optimist, Jefferson.”

“Hardly,” the Hatter said dryly, before turning, ready to begin his descent from the hill. He stopped after just a few steps, and turned back. “Rumplestiltskin?”

Gold looked up, his head tipped to one side. “Hmm?”

“How long?”

Gold looked skyward, as if the position of the stars could give him the answer to Jefferson’s question, and they might well have - had time not been motionless in Storybrooke these past… He shook his head. He knew the answer. It was written into the fabric of the Dark Curse, into the single drop of ‘True Love’ he had dripped onto the parchment; The single drop that would herald the arrival of The Savior.

“Twenty-eight years,” he answered quietly. “Twenty-eight years.”

#rumbelle #cursed storybrooke #angst #romance #eventual smut #the pawn shop on main street #the library beneath the clock tower #i will always write jefferson

7 notes · View notes

welllpthisishappening · 4 years

Text

One Foot In (4/7)

The facts were these.

Killian Jones was dead. This much Emma knew, standing in the middle of the funeral parlor staring at him. What she didn’t know was why. Or how. Or what she would do when she touched him.

Because Emma Swan had a gift. Touch a dead thing once, bring it back to life. Touch it again, dead forever.

And the last thing Emma could do was bring Killian back to life, talk to him for the first time in years, only to watch him die all over again. Not when she’d spent the better part of those same years being in love with him.

—–

Rating: Teen, but eventually they’re going to kiss Word Count: 9.3K and I seriously don’t remember writing all of this AN: This is the part where we kind of deviate from Pushing Daisies (although there are some jokes from other episodes) and move into magic and meaningful conversations and it’s going to get relatively exciting from here on out. I hope, at least. Thanks for reading this. I think you guys are swell.

@shireness-says @optomisticgirl @nikkiemms, @teamhook, @dayo488, @greymeetsblue, @jennjenn615, @heavenlyjoycastle, @klynn-stormz, @superchocovian, @onepunintendid, @jonesfandomfanatic, @lfh1226-linda

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam. Or, you can take it from the top.

—–

Emma Swan is twenty-nine years, six months, twenty-three days and, approximately, twelve hours and forty-two minutes old when her shoulder is nearly ripped out of her socket.

“Ow, jeez, what the hell, Ruby?” she hisses, gaping at her partner as soon as she tightens her hold on Emma’s wrist. “My health insurance is garbage. I can’t get injured here.” “Don’t you think we could sue the town of Storybrooke? I think you’re technically on city hall property at this point.” “Town hall,” Killian corrects. He’s leaning against the back door of Emma’s car, feet crossed at the ankle again which is only kind of infuriating in the way it makes Emma’s heart jump, but he’s also got a pinch between his eyebrows that wasn’t there when they left the restaurant.

It’s because Emma made him sit in the backseat.

And Ruby agreed.

His arsenal of curses has gotten far more creative in the past two decades. One of the more nautical ones even made Ruby blush.

Emma didn’t think she was capable of that.

“Storybrooke is a town,” he continues when Ruby quirks a vaguely annoyed eyebrow in his direction. “If you want to get technical. The state of Maine is weird like that. Anything can really be a town, but a city has to be incorporated by a special act of the state legislature.” “Why do you know that?” Emma asks. “And, really? Anything can be a city? There’s not like...a population requirement.” “Usually. But Maine’s a strange place with strange laws and as discussed before, I’ve read some things in the last few years.” “That includes the requirements for a city to be formed?” “Incorporated.” “What a ridiculous word.” Killian hums, but the pinch between his eyebrows is still there and he looks a little cautious. Or nervous. That’s really the word for it. He looks nervous, as if whatever they’ll find out from Cora Mills at the Storybrooke Town Hall is going to change everything.

Ruby still hasn’t let go of Emma’s wrist.

Emma is slightly concerned about the blood flow to her hand.

“The specifics of any of this could not possibly matter less,” Ruby hisses. “Jones, I need you to take a walk towards those very high bushes.” The pinch between his eyebrows is never going to disappear. “Excuse me?” “Did none of these encyclopedias you’ve read teach you how the English language works?” “Why do you think I was reading encyclopedias?” “Were you not?” “I mean,” he shrugs, “maybe at one point. Nemo had some really old ones that were mostly focused on the naval history of the world, but those weren’t very interesting and the pages were really fragile and—” “I do not care,” Ruby shouts, and Emma blinks at the absolute acid in her voice. She tries to yank her arm back to her side, but that works as well as trying to understand the absurd inner-workings of the Maine census bureau and only ends with Emma elbowing herself in the ribs. Ruby huffs dramatically, lips pursed. “A walk,” she repeats. “Towards those bushes where, presumably no one can see you and realize you’re breathing.” “Why are we yelling this?” Emma mumbles. Ruby’s answering glare could probably melt several thousand diamonds.

Her grip could certainly crack them.

And Emma isn’t really sure what’s changed in the car ride from her restaurant to the Storybrooke Town Hall, but there had been a lot of cursing and mumbling about acting like I’m a little kid and sounds like Liam and that second one had made her breath catch in her throat and Ruby was always very good at reading her face.

Which she could see perfectly. From the front seat of Emma’s car.

Oh, damn.

“Maybe just one second,” Emma says, glancing at Killian to find him staring at her like it’s the first time he’s ever seen her. Ruby squeezes her nails into Emma’s wrist. “Or,” she amends. “Like thirteen seconds. Just...to come up with a plan of attack.” Killian clicks his teeth at that, eyebrows lifting, which doesn’t do much to help the very obvious whatever that settles on every inch of his face – something that looks like surprise and feels like disappointment and the buzzing in between Emma’s ears sputters into nothing. He’s chewing on the side of his tongue, a nervous habit he picked up when he was seven and Liam let them watch Friday the 13th on Halloween with the lights off and enough candy to make Emma regret her distinct lack of dental insurance again.

“Huh,” he mutters, barely audible over the sounds of the town.

They’re familiar sounds – a few cars and some kid riding their bike because it’s August and there’s a hint of humidity in the air that’s already starting to make the ends of Emma’s hair curl. She can hear an ice cream truck a few blocks away and mosquitos and someone needs to get their air conditioner checked out because it can’t be good for it to be that noisy.

Emma shifts awkwardly on her feet, trying, and failing, again, to regain control of her right arm, but Ruby must have been a wrestler in another life because she’s got some kind of choke-hold and, clearly, no intention of letting go.

“It’s just thirteen seconds,” Emma says, but her voice sounds like the lie it is and her own nerves are obvious in every single syllable. Killian’s lips twist.

“At least. For your plan of attack.” “We just...you know, we like to be prepared going into stuff like this.” “Murder investigations.” “Well, to be fair, I’m not usually dealing with people who are alive. We’ve got more time and I don’t want to, you know, waste that.” “Seems impossible when you’re used to only a minute,” Killian says, and Emma is single-handedly digging herself into the world’s biggest ditch. She’s a little worried Ruby’s nails have cut her arm.

“You don’t actually have to stand in the bushes.” Ruby scoffs, her own mumbled curses, and Killian’s lips twitch. “I had no intention of standing in the bushes. You better attack though, Swan. Lucas looks like she’s growing talons.” “Claws, honestly.” “I am standing right here,” Ruby seethes.

Emma shrugs, glancing over her shoulder and she hadn’t realized she’d moved away from Ruby. Or closer to Killian. Honestly she’s going to write a twenty-seven page research paper on the possibility of magnets in the real world and how goddamn inconvenient they are.

“And whose fault is that?” Emma asks. “Alright, I really do have garbage health insurance, so if we could avoid bodily harm before we deal with a maybe murderer, that’d be great. C’mon.”

She, finally, regains control of her arm, moving a few feet down the sidewalk and leaving Killian with the car and the anxiety practically radiating off him.

And, really, Emma has every intention of controlling the conversation from the get-go, a determination that’s almost impressive because she’s having a very difficult time remembering to breathe consistently, but then Ruby is in front of her and the sun appears to be reflecting off the highlights in her hair and she’s doing that foot tapping thing.

Emma hates that foot tapping thing.

“Is this where you yell?” Emma asks, Ruby already shaking her head.

“No, this is where I do the asking several very important questions and you tell me the God’s honest truth or I swear to God I will push you in traffic.” “In traffic?” “Is that not threatening enough?”

Emma makes a contradictory noise in the back of her throat. “I feel like people would probably stop their cars. Or I’d still have the ability to dodge. I think I could dodge.” “Your reflexes are not that good,” Ruby promises. “And we are wasting time. Also, do you think Jones knows how to read lips?” “I’ve got no idea.” “What do you know about him?” The question seems unfairly large to start with, but Emma’s got a sinking suspicion that’s not actually one of Ruby’s questions and the weight of disappointment that settles in her gut at the realization that she may not actually have an answer is somewhere close to horrendous.

“Your silence is overwhelming.” Emma blinks, trying to push impossible tears back in their ducts and she’s going to chew her lower lip in half before the day is over. “It’s not...ok, I know that’s not what you wanted to ask, so can we get to the point of this—” “—No, no, I wanted to ask that. Because I think there’s some seriously shady things happening here and a group of goons on some tourist cruise who call some other dude master is a little terrifying, don’t you think?” “I don’t think Killian was working for that guy.” “Do you know that for sure? Can you know that for sure?” Emma bites her lip again. There’s blood in her mouth. It’s disgusting. And Ruby sighs. “All I’m saying is maybe we should be careful and I…” She exhales, eyes going dangerously thin and Emma braces herself for the riot act. What she gets is almost worse. “Are you in love with him? Is it that brand of stupid?”

Emma’s right knee gives out. Only her right one. It’s kind of weird, but that seems to just be the sub-headline of her life now. And, at least, she doesn’t fall down.

So, comparatively…

“No,” Emma says, but the word feels heavy and incorrect and Ruby’s head tilt is almost vibrating with judgment. “No.” “No?”

“No.” “I’m going to tell you that I don’t believe you, but—” “—I killed his brother.”

The words fly out of Emma’s mouth, her eyes widening with her own surprise and the noise Ruby makes is not of this world. It sounds like an alien has settled into her body and realized what a god awful race humans are and then decided, unequivocally, that Emma is the worst of the worst and is now desperate to get off this planet.

The greenhouse gasses are pretty horrible anyway. That’s probably Emma’s fault too.

Ruby brings both her hands to her temples, blinking far too quickly to be anything except jarring and Emma is running out of lip to bite. She moves to her cheek.

“Ok, hold on a second,” Ruby mutters. “That is...when? Recently? I thought he said his brother died when he was ten.” “He did.” “And?” “And what? I…” Emma trails off, yanking on the ends of her humidity-ruined hair. They are going way over their thirteen-second limit. “The very short story is that the EMTs said Ingrid suffered a brain hemorrhage. Incredibly rare, immediately fatal and I...didn’t know that. So—” “—Oh my God, you touched her,” Ruby finishes. This is not the first time she’s heard this particular part of the story. Emma nods. “And that meant that…” Her hand flies to her mouth, but it doesn’t do much to silence the gasp she makes. Emma swats at both of her arms, desperate to quiet her or silence whatever guilt is bouncing around her skull and neither thing works. She can feel Killian casting curious glances their direction.

“I am going to push you in traffic,” Emma warns. “And you will trip over your own heels.” Ruby scowls, absurd with her hand still plastered over her mouth. “You are questionably obsessed with my fashion choices. But Ingrid died. That’s why you had to leave Storybrooke.” “I know. But, ok, you cannot make any noise, do you understand me?” Ruby nods slowly, and there will probably be handprint marks smearing her lipstick. “I came into the kitchen and Ingrid was dead. Sudden and real and I was nine. I didn’t think...I just reacted and then she was alive and I was so happy, but then...well, the universe is a dick and—” Emma can’t bring herself to finish.

The tears on her cheeks are distracting.

Ruby pulls her hand away from her mouth – lipstick somehow in place, which is actually almost comforting – wrapping her fingers around Emma’s wrist in a way that’s even more comforting. “Does he know?”

Emma shakes her head. “No. I didn’t know at first. I had no idea what the rules were or are and I wasn’t trying to do that. I...I loved Liam too and he was so good for Killian and Killian...oh, he idolized him. But then I was leaving and he kept saying I was going to come back and—” “—You didn’t ever come back.” “No.”

“Did you want to?” “Every single day.” Ruby exhales through her teeth, and they’re all going to need extensive dental work by the time this is over. “Ok, so, uh...that leads us almost directly to my number one, top of the list, most important question of all time. Who died to make sure Killian Jones didn’t?” “I have no idea,” Emma admits, those particular words far more difficult to say than a secret she’d like to kept under metaphorical lock and key for the rest of her mortal life.

“Yeah, I figured you were going to say something horrible like that. How does that even work? Is it an age thing? Does it have to be relatively similar.” Emma shrugs. “I think it’s a general proximity thing.” “I was like twenty feet away from you!”

“I wasn’t really thinking,” Emma reasons. “That’s not an excuse, it’s just a fact. I would have been upset if you died.” “Wow, your charity is overwhelming, Em. You know what, I’m going to take all of your reward. Screw that. I didn’t realize I was playing with fire here.” “Metaphorically, I guess.” Ruby kicks at her ankle, nose scrunched. “You make jokes when you're nervous. It’s a coping mechanism.” She grits her teeth, more exaggerated breathing that Emma supposes is warranted in the moment. “And you know what this means?”

“Should I?” “There’s another body somewhere with no reasonable explanation for its death.” Emma’s left knee gives out. “Oh, well, shit.” “That’s eloquent.” “You have something better to suggest?” “Nah,” Ruby says, a grin that feels wholly out of place in a conversation filled with so much death. Emma wishes there weren’t always so much death involved. “But I bet if you ask your boyfriend he’d be able to help. I think he was using some pirate ones before. He seems like a practical treasure trove of frustrated curses.” “Are you making jokes now?” Ruby shrugs, hand moving to Emma’s shoulder. “It’s an observation. And you didn’t contradict boyfriend, just for the record or whatever.” “I don’t have time to be worried about antiquated relationship qualifiers,” Emma mumbles, but the butterflies in her stomach have returned and she wants to know every single thing Killian has learned in the last two decades.

She really doesn’t want to tell him she killed his brother.

On accident.

Kind of.

She wouldn’t mind kissing him again.

“Yeah, sure you don’t,” Ruby laughs. “Alright, well, we’ve got a serious check-list of things we need to accomplish before anyone else realizes we’re trying to accomplish them. No time like the present, right?”

She’s gone before Emma can begin to formulate a response – a twist of red and hair that doesn’t appear prone to humidity and a very particular shine to her shoes that Emma is almost certain she’s developed on her own.

And Killian is exactly where they left him.

He licks his lips as soon as his eyes dart towards Emma, eyebrows raised in silent question. They’d always been very good at that, silent communication that used to drive Ingrid and Liam insane in equal measure until Liam threw his whole head back and taught them morse code so they could at least learn something practical and they used to flash lights at each other from across the street when they were supposed to be asleep.

“Everything alright?” he asks, and Emma makes a noise that is the audible version of the worst lie she’s ever told. “That so?” “I didn’t actually say anything.” “Yeah, you didn’t really have to, did you?” “The mind reading thing isn’t nearly as cute as you think it is.” The tongue stuff has got to stop. It means Emma keeps thinking about Killian’s tongue and that’s a dangerous line of thought and maybe they should get him some new clothes. Seeing him in the clothes he was supposed to be buried in is disconcerting.

“So you think I’m dreamy and cute?” Killian asks, pushing off the car at the same time his eyebrows defy several laws of gravity. Emma swallows. She wonders how much it would hurt to have to get stitches in her lip. “That’s quite a tandem don’t you think?”

“I think you’re way too confident for your own good and it’s going to get us in trouble.” “What other trouble could I possibly get into, Swan? I’ve already been dead once in the last forty-eight hours, seems to cover most of my bases doesn’t it?” Emma sighs. “Can you pull your hat down? There’s too much of your hair showing.”

He does as asked, tugging with almost too much force. “No one is going to notice me,” Killian says, a promise he can’t possibly make in the middle of a town that knows far too much about both of them. “It’s the middle of the day, anyway. Cora’s probably the only person in the building. You know how she hates to delegate, works through lunch and—” “Yeah, uh,” Ruby interrupts, moving back towards the sidewalk and Emma hadn’t even realized she’d gone into the building. “No one’s really doing anything with lunch in there. Or doing much of anything. At all.” “What does that mean?” Emma asks.

“This creepy Cora? She’d likely be at a desk that says mayor on a very fancy plaque? Dark hair? Suit that costs more than my yearly rent?” Killian nods. “All of the above.” “Yeah, she’s very dead.” Both of Emma’s knees give out – and she knows Killian moves, an immediate reaction that is equal parts dreamy and cute and absolutely impossible because she’s not wearing nearly enough clothing and there are rules and he can’t catch her.

She stumbles forward, balance no more than almost precarious as Ruby’s fingers curl around her elbow. “Deep breaths, Em. It’s fine. It’s...you know, it’s fine.” “That was almost as bad as Swan,” Killian mumbles, arm still outstretched like he’ll be able to do something. It takes them all a moment to realize it’s his left arm. He grimaces as soon as his eyes land on the skin there, the sleeve of his shirt hanging over the edge and Emma wants a lot more than she should ever be allowed to even consider, but more than anything she wants to pull his arm into her hands and hold him there and promise it will be ok because he’s ok and it doesn’t matter, none of it matters, them or him or whatever they may be dealing with in the moment, because he looks at her like nothing is wrong.

He looks at her like he’s been hoping to find her every single day he’s woken up and it’s a feeling Emma understands and wants and maybe Ruby is right.

That’s kind of annoying.

Emma hates when Ruby is right. She’s a bad sport about it.

“Did it...well, what do we do?” Killian continues.

Ruby grins. “What we normally do.” “You want to—” He glances at Emma, mouth hanging open. She tries to smile. It fails miserably. “Oh, yeah, ok,” Killian nods, sounding as if he’s trying to convince himself. “Is that ok, Swan?”

She wishes things would stop surprising her. It can’t possibly be good for her blood pressure or the apparently shoddy state of her knees. But he says it with such sincerity and that hat looks absolutely ridiculous, makes the slight point of ears Emma always teased him about when they were little even more obvious, and he keeps having to push the sunglasses they found in the glove compartment up.

Emma nods brusquely. “Yeah, of course. I mean...that’s what you were saying before, right? This is kind of my schtick.” “That’s not what I meant. I just...you were plotting.” “I wasn’t plotting without you.” “That’s not what it looked like.” “Ok, we genuinely do not have time for this,” Ruby says, cutting in before Emma can say something absurdly sentimental and decidedly out of place for what has just become another crime scene. “We have negative amount of time for this. Let’s go talk to creepy Cora Mills and get the hell out of here before someone realizes the lurker in the weird hat is dead.” “He’s not dead,” Emma growls, but Ruby just waves her hands in her face and nods as if that word isn’t kind of offensive.

Killian smiles at her. “It is a kind of weird hat though, Swan.” “It’s not a weird hat! And you’re not dead. Can we please stop using that word? It’s--it’s messing with my head and, like, my lungs and—” “—You’ve got to breathe, love.” “How are you so calm about this?”

They’re frozen in the doorway of the Storybrooke Town Hall, far too close and not close enough. Ruby is tapping her heel on marble tile now. “I’m not,” Killian says with an ease that belies the look on his face. “I’m frustrated and annoyed and pissed off. At the world and Cora Mills and goons one through six and kind of at you for never coming back because I always wanted you to come back and I wondered and—” She can see every single one of his teeth when he cuts himself off, and Emma wishes he’d stop doing that, but she figures it’s kind of unfair to demand proper sentence structure at this point.

“I was dead, Swan,” he says, expression softening when Emma makes a face. “That’s a fact. But then you showed up and changed that and I...well, I wasn’t...if this is as dangerous as it might be then I don’t want anything to happen to you.” “Oh.” It’s the worst response. It’s an absolutely lame response, but Emma’s always been a little worried that she’s missing some fundamental piece of her empathy chip and she twists her arms behind her back again to stop herself from touching him.

“Oh?” “Oh,” Emma repeats, whatever disgusted sound Ruby makes at their distinct lack of conversational progress bouncing off the far too ostentatious walls around them. “I—well, that was kind of nice.” “That was kind of the goal.” “Right. Right, well, mission accomplished, I guess. And, uh...that hat came from a baking contest a couple years ago.” “You were in a baking contest?” “You were making jokes about award-winning pie, but it’s almost true. The five-berry one was described as something close to life-changing.” “Seems to be a trend,” Killian mutters. He moves his hand again, a quick brush of fingertips over the curve of Emma’s shoulder and he shakes his head as soon as she tries to tell him to stop that, God. “That was the last time. Just...making sure.” Emma doesn’t have to ask what he means – knows he’s making sure she’s there and real and this would almost make more sense if it were some very lucid dream. But she figures she wouldn't want to torture herself even in a dream and Emma’s inability to touch a guy she maybe hopes could be referred to as her boyfriend in regular conversation is something she’ll have to contend with eventually. Once they solve his murder and the trail of bodies that seem to be piling up behind him.

“Let’s go,” Ruby groans from the other end of the hallway.

“It’s not like Cora’s getting up and walking away,” Emma mutters, working a laugh out of Killian.

“At least not yet. C’mon, love, I’d rather Cora’s assistant didn’t find us while we were in the middle of this.”

Cora Mills, mayor of Storybrooke since, quite possibly, the dawn of time, looks almost exactly the way Emma remembers her.

There’s more gray to her hair, a few more wrinkles around her eyes, but she’s still got an air of superiority around her that sets Emma’s teeth on edge. Her suit definitely cost a ridiculous amount of money and the manicure looks nearly immaculate – except on her right hand. It’s not the whole thing, but three of her fingers are missing nails and—

“Oh my God, Cora Mills gets acrylic nails,” Emma laughs.

“Is that a clue of some sort?” Killian asks, earning more laughter for more sincerity and it is really getting very difficult not to hold his hand.

“Ah, I like that you said clues. And, no, well, maybe, but...I guess it’s just funny. Acrylic nails are so...tacky.” “Ok, that’s not true at all,” Ruby argues. She’s already picking her way through piles of paperwork, a determined look on her face that usually ends in several stacks of bills untraceable by the IRS. “These aren’t just acrylic. They’re gel and hard gel at that.” “I feel like she’s speaking in code,” Killian says, perched on the edge of Cora’s desk.

Emma lifts her eyebrows. “Should you be up there?” “What’s she going to do to stop me?” “Jesus,” Ruby growls. “The flirting is honestly disgusting. Also, I am not speaking in code. I am speaking in spa.” “What’s the difference?” “The difference is that hard gel eventually becomes, as its name implies, hard enough to basically be an extension of the nail. Getting those off is some kind of serious bitch. You’ve got to be totally committed to the color.” “None of this makes sense,” Emma fumes, bobbing on her feet and she’s unreasonably nervous to touch a dead person in front of Killian. “Can I just touch her so we can get out of here?” Ruby doesn’t look up from the papers she’s leafing through when she answers. “No one is stopping you, but you’re missing a very important point.” “You lord information over other people when you want to feel in control of a situation.” “And why do you think might I feel out of control in this particular situation?” “Oh, shit, no I get it,” Killian says, jumping off the desk with enough enthusiasm that Emma is really starting to wonder if time travel is possible. “Fuck, that’s not great, is it?” “We won’t know until Emma touches her.” Emma rolls her whole head. “What am I missing?” “Lucas is right, we won’t know until Cora tells us, but,” Killian starts, grinning like a maniac who just discovered what was underneath that one man hole on Main Street, “If hard gel requires a commitment to the color scheme, that means it would take one hell of a fight to pull the nails off, right?” Ruby nods, something that feels like PI pride hanging off her shoulders. “And that means that Cora didn’t just die under natural circumstances.” “I kind of figured that part was obvious considering your rather untimely murder,” Ruby muses. “But I wasn’t sure there was a fight until I noticed Madam Mayor’s rather grimy hands. She didn’t go down quietly.” “If you knew Cora, you’d understand that’s very in character.” “Well, I feel as if it’s time for me to meet the great and powerful Oz.” “That wasn’t funny,” Emma mumbles. Ruby laughs anyway. “Alright,” she huffs, jumping up and down as if that will work out her influx of nervous energy. Killian smirks at her. “I am nervous about this with you here.” “I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Ruby gags. Again. For at least twenty-one seconds straight. “There is a dead person here. Let’s try and keep some perspective. Also what did you say about that assistant?” “Aurora was terrified of Cora,” Killian reasons. “I doubt she’ll be back before the end of lunch. And you’ve got nothing to be worried about, Swan. It’s not going to change anything.” He can’t possibly mean it the way it sounds, but Emma’s brain doesn’t care. It latches to those words and that particular curve of his lips, confident in her and whatever magic she may be in possession of to fix things and control things she shouldn’t be able to control. Killian nods again when Emma wavers, his smile shifting slightly when he raises his right hand to cover his eyes.

“That better?” he asks.

Emma has to look down to make sure her entire body has not exploded into flames. It has not. That’s nice. “Yeah,” she breathes. “That’s...that’s good.”

“Can we get on with it?” Ruby drawls. She’s started opening drawers.

“You may want to move,” Emma suggests. “Sometimes they can get a little flaily when they just wake up.” “Oh, yeah, good point.” She takes the whole drawer with her when she steps to the other side of the office.

Emma takes a deep breath, tugging her phone out of her pocket and setting the timer and she’s almost pleased to notice that her finger doesn’t shake when she brushes over Cora’s hand. Killian’s fingers shift.

He’s still smiling.

And Cora does, in fact, flail. Her limbs are everywhere, impossibly agile and decidedly threatening, even with a few less nails than she’s normally used to. She jerks back as soon as Emma touches her, eyes crazed with a snarl on her face that’s only slightly intimidating.

Her head snaps around, taking in her surroundings as if she’s surprised to find herself still in the office where she, presumably, died a few minutes earlier.

“Oh,” Cora says, some of the fight almost visibly falling off her. “That’s—” She glances around again, and the curse she growls at all of them as soon as her eyes land on Killian is enough to make Emma’s hair curl without any humidity involved. ‘No, no, no,” Cora stammers. “What the hell are you doing here?” “That’s the million dollar question isn’t it?” Killian asks. “Who killed you, Cora?” “Where’s your hand?”

“Full of tact as always, ma’am.” “That’s not a question of tact, although if you’d like to discuss upbringing, I’d be only too happy to share some thoughts on your uncles and what they’ve done to that beautiful house.” “Did you think I had both of my hands when I died?”

“I didn’t think they’d take it, no.” “They?” “Listen,” Emma interrupts. “You’ve got like...fifty seconds to tell us everything that’s happened to you today and why you’re missing nails.” Cora blinks. “I wasn’t going to sit there and take it. That goon—” “—A goon,” Ruby cuts in. “What kind of goon?” “Is this heaven? Because that’s...well, that’s a little surprising, honestly.” “It’s not heaven,” Killian promises. “But there’s the possibility for some serious karmic retribution if you answer our questions. I make no guarantees about where you’ll end up, although I imagine not being a complete and utter harpy can only help you.” Cora laughs, dark and threatening. “Oh, you were always far too confident for your own good, Jones. I’d imagine the people who killed me are the same people who got rid of you. Although why they brought you back to Storybrooke, I’ll never understand.” “Is that why you offered the reward?” Ruby asks. “Covering your own ass?” “That’s a little crass, but sufficient.” “Who were these people?” Killian presses. “You never actually said.” “And yet you were only all too happy to agree weren’t you? Desperate to get out of this town and away from this life. It was the perfect opportunity for both of us.” “Explain that.”

Cora bristles at the command, Emma still sitting there silent and nervous and she hates how knowing the gaze that flashes towards her is. “Oh,” Cora says. “There’s something interesting about you, isn’t there? And it...it matches up with his.” Emma jerks her head up. “Who’s what?” “Jones. Can’t you feel that? Ah, well maybe you can’t, but that’s always been my own particular talent. That’s why they recruited me of course.” “Who?” Killian shouts, standing up and Emma hears Ruby’s breath hitch. He’s furious, that much is obvious, but it’s more than that, a hint of darkness and frustration that wasn’t there when they were kids and it makes him feel taller and more threatening than anything else in that room. “You’re running out of time here, Cora. Straight answers.” “Fine,” she snaps. “Sit down, you’re acting like a petulant child. I’ve...well, I’ve been endowed with several gifts in my life and one of my more...appealing gifts is the ability to see into someone’s heart.” “What?” “If you’d like an explanation, then it’s probably in your best interest not to interrupt.” Killian doesn’t sit down, but he doesn’t say anything else and Emma moves to the front of her seat when his fingers wrap around the back of her chair. “As I was saying,” Cora continues. “I’m rather good at seeing what people want. Deepest desires and darkest feelings, those hopes and needs we’ve done our best to hide away from the rest of the world. And our mutual employer found that very interesting. He wanted someone with your particular abilities to help him, Mr. Jones.” “I don’t have any particular abilities,” Killian says. Emma hopes she doesn’t crack the chair.

Cora shakes her head, smile turning mocking. “I believed that for a very long time too, but that’s not true. I can see it, Mr. Jones and I can feel it. It’s...not quite as strong as Ms. Swan, yes, I remember you too, but it’s there. And it seems to time up very well with hers.” “With my what?” Emma demands, almost too aware of the ticking seconds on her phone.

“Why your magic, of course. Both of you. It’s admittedly unfortunate that you had to die for it, Mr. Jones, but I’d imagine you walked right into it.”

“There’s no magic here,” Killian says, but Cora is already shaking her head and looking far too smug. She narrows her eyes.

“The darkness is always interested in finding more of us whenever he can.” Emma freezes, mouth hanging open and breath coming in decidedly unattractive pants. Killian curses – loudly. And they almost suffer another disaster, a case of proximity and the whims of the universe, but Ruby’s shrill Emma, fuck wakes her up and she more or less slaps Cora across the face.

It’s oddly satisfying.

None of them say anything. There’s not much to say. Magic is a child’s story, but Emma can wake the dead and make sure they stay dead and the buzzing in her head roared to life at Cora’s words, like it was reveling in them and there’s got to be an explanation for this.

This explanation, however, only seems to spark more questions.

That’s less satisfying.

“So,” Ruby says, eventually breaking the silence and Cora looks worse now than she did when they first found her. “That uh...didn’t really help us much at all, did it?”

“None of that made sense,” Killian mutters. “That’s—”

“—You going to tell me that magic is impossible when you just watched your girlfriend undead and redead someone?” “There’s got to be a better way of phrasing that,” Emma mumbles. She lets her head drop forward, colliding with the wood of the desk painfully.

Ruby makes a noise that is, hopefully, an agreement. “Yeah, probably. So, uh...you do anything magical recently, Jones?” “That’s the part that doesn’t make any sense,” he says. “I never even learned how to do card tricks. I...I wanted to get out of Storybrooke and Cora gave me an avenue to do that while helping Nemo. That’s all there was to it.” “Still doesn’t help us much as far as figuring out who you were both, apparently, working for.” “She said him,” Emma whispers, the realization striking her like lightning and several other natural disasters. She hears Killian shift, letting go of the chair to move around her and he’s crouched next to her when she moves her head. “Cora, I mean. Whatever she was talking about with magic. She said the darkness is looking for that, but she said him. As in a human male.” “Or an alien male,” Ruby suggests. “Let’s be as inclusive as possible. Could even be an animal, right? A really dangerous...dark cat? What’s a terrifying animal? Oh, God, what about an alligator? Right, right? Apex predator.”

“It’s a crocodile,” Killian mutters. His knees must be killing him. He doesn’t try to stand up. “Those jaws could snap a whole person right in half. Plus, they’re scaly, so that just makes them untrustworthy. Thoughts, Swan?”

Emma can’t shrug when she’s more or less draped across a dead mayor’s desk and they are pressing their luck staying that office with the same dead mayor, but she makes a valiant effort and that’s really all she can ask of herself right now. “You said it was shady, didn’t you? The whole thing on the boat—ship, yeah, God, that’s...it’s stupid that you keep doing that.” “It’s a control thing,” Killian admits with a smile. “But, yeah, it felt incredibly shady. And...wrong.” “What does that mean?” “I don’t know how to explain it without sounding like a complete and total crazy person. “Try me.”

Killian sighs, but it’s not frustration. It’s more nerves and concern and Emma knows part of that, most of it really, is directed at her. She’s going to give herself carpal tunnel from tensing her fists so often. “It felt wrong,” he starts. “I don’t...it was like I could hear it.” Emma’s elbow falls off the desk. She’s very glad she’s already sitting down. “You could hear what? Exactly?” “Buzzing?” “Why was that a question?” “Because you seem to already have a very strong idea of what my answer was going to be, Swan.”

“God,” Ruby chuckles. “When this is all over, Jones, remind me to offer you a job. You’re incredibly good at reading people.” He shakes his head, eyes not leaving Emma. “Just her.”

The rush of everything that shoots from the top of Emma’s head to the very tips of her toes isn’t quite as overwhelming as it probably should be. She’s got her suspicions about that – the look on Killian’s face and how goddamn blue his eyes are and whatever his mouth does when, she assumes, he feels it too – but Emma’s never been very good at actually voicing her emotions.

And Killian has always known anyway.

Plus Ruby would probably make fun of them.

“Did you feel that?” Emma asks softly, another unnecessary question. They need to get out of Storybrooke. She’s going to bake twenty-six pies. At least.

Killian nods. “Did you hear that?” “The buzzing?” “The buzzing.” “Yeah, I did.” “Ok, good.” “Good?” Emma echoes, and her voice cracks traitorously on the word. Killian moves, shifting his weight back onto his heels as soon as she presses her lips back together. He wiggles his fingers, like he’s trying to stop himself from touching her and Emma is fairly sure she doesn’t imagine his mumbled fuck it before he reaches forward, stopping just short of the bend in her knee. He doesn’t touch her.

That’s for the best.

Or so she’ll tell herself on loop while she bakes those twenty-six pies.

“It means we’re both equally crazy,” Killian mutters, Ruby cackling at the sentiment. Emma blinks, not quite crying, but drifting dangerously close and her shoulders droop when she exhales loudly.

“Yeah, I think it might be exactly that.”

“Well, now that we’ve settled all of that,” Ruby announces, stuffing what appear to be a few receipts into her jacket pocket, “let’s say we evacuate the crime scene, do a little bit more research on some kind of mythical darkness from the outer reaches of space and then maybe get Jones some new clothes to wear?” "I really don’t think we’re dealing with aliens,” Emma reasons.

“And where exactly do you suggest we get me new clothes?” Killian adds, holding his arm out when Emma moves towards the office door. She mutters gentleman under her breath and he winks at her. “I don’t know that some kind of makeover montage is really in order,” Ruby sticks her tongue out. “I have clothes.” “I’m not sure I’d be able to keep my balance in your heels.” “Yeah, yeah, you’re absolutely hysterical. And you couldn’t even hold your own in my heels. But you might be able to do something in some t-shirts.” “At least solve a few more crimes.” “I think we’re still just dealing with one.” “Small miracles,” Emma mumbles. “Although you should get some new clothes. These are…” She doesn’t finish – not sure if it’s offensive or just plain ridiculous, but they were also just talking about aliens, so Emma figures she’s well within her right when it comes to ridiculous.

“Yeah, it is a little macabre, isn’t it?” Killian asks.

“Good word.” “Voracious reader with a very smart vocabulary.” “Is that what you tell all the girls when you meet them?” He snorts. Ruby groans. “No,” Killian says. “That’s what Shakespeare used to say when I’d use that same smart vocabulary to tell him that no one was interested in hearing another soliloquy.” “Did he recite soliloquies often?” “Almost as often as he liked to critique my clothing choices. He was never very big on the leather jackets.” Emma’s reaction to that is one-hundred percent more ridiculous than the alien idea. “Huh.” The tips of Killian’s ears go red.

“That was super smooth, Em,” Ruby mutters, ushering them both back into the hallway as soon as the footsteps in the hallway start to grow louder. “But I’m not super interested in getting arrested this afternoon, so, if you two would be so kind…”

Emma nods quickly, Killian tugging his hat further down and pushing the sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. They’re back in the car, key turning in the ignition when they hear, what Emma assumes, is Aurora’s scream.

“How did you decide you wanted to open a pie place?”

Emma tilts her head, several hours after a fashion clinic in Ruby’s apartment and Ruby’s absolute refusal to explain why she had so much disposable clothing of the men-type variety. “Pie place,” she repeats slowly, stirring the mixture in front of her.

Killian grabs a strawberry.

“Ok, stop that,” Emma snaps, but there’s a distinct lack of annoyance in her voice. It’s almost too obvious how easily he’s charming her. “We’re not going to have anything to put in the pie. And this was your idea.” It was – laden down with at least a week’s worth of clothes and a few options for shirts because, you know, you need some extra shirts, Jones, Killian and Emma had walked back to her restaurant, slightly cautious steps because, for the first time since this had all started, there was a break in the action and a lull in the momentum and he asked if she’d bake something.

“I can help,” Killian added quickly, flashing her a smile, her smile , and Emma couldn’t argue with that. He’d probably been banking on that.

“And it was a very good idea,” Killian says. “I’m just trying to spark some conversation while you do whatever it is you’re doing. What is it you’re doing, incidentally?” “Making crust.” “You make your crust?” “Oh my God, that’s honestly the rudest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Killian shakes his head, reaching forward to try and steal a handful of raspberries. “That can’t possibly be true.” “It is and then some,” Emma promises. “You think I...what? Use frozen pie crust in my actual pie restaurant? That’s ghastly.” He nearly chokes on his handful of raspberries. “Did you just suggest that frozen pie crust is ghastly? Did that really just happen?” “It is. It’s all processed and there’s way too much sugar in it and it’s not good. It’s...there’s no feeling involved.” Killian doesn’t freeze, exactly, but it’s awfully close and Emma wonders if, maybe, some of Cora’s claimed magic has shifted to him. Like a magical barnacle. She kind of feels as if he can see straight into her or through her, she’s not sure which is worse.

“You bake with a lot of feeling, Swan?”

“No,” Emma grumbles. She needs to find a whisk. And buttermilk. “Can you open the fridge for me? And if you try and steal any more of my filling, I’m going to hide all your clothes on you and then what will you do?” “That seems to suggest you think I won’t leave the apartment in your clothes.”

“I bet you a magillion dollars you would not do that.” His shoulders shake with his laugh – the sound finding its way to Emma’s ears despite most of his head pushed into the refrigerator. “How many zeros would you say are in a magillion? Also what am I looking for in here? You haven’t actually given me any instructions.” “Oh, uh, buttermilk and just like...as much butter as you can carry.”

“That is not very specific.” “I don’t need it to be specific.” Killian glances at her over his shoulder, a wry look on his face and the prickle of something at the base of Emma’s skull kind of feels like sticking her hand into a fire. It’s not uncomfortable, just little brushes of warmth and familiarity, but she’s a little worried about getting burned by the whole, entire thing.

She wishes she’d stop thinking in metaphor.

“Isn’t baking some kind of exact science?” Killian asks. “I always thought you had to follow a baking recipe to the letter.” “Whoever told you that was a great, big, enormous liar.” “Wow, that is just...a sweeping judgment.” Emma shrugs. “It’s true. Baking is, well, at least for me, it’s instinctual. God, did that sound as weird out loud as I think it did?” “It didn’t.” He has to bump the refrigerator door closed with his hip, which probably shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. “But it did sound as if you’re baking with a little bit more than feeling, love. So, let’s have it. Why’d you open the pie place?” Emma considers her answer for a moment – the idea of lying about it particularly appealing, but then he’s dumping ten sticks of butter onto her counter and there’s a jug of buttermilk pinned to his side with his blunted arm and anything except the absolute truth seems entirely unfair.

To both of them.

“It always felt like home,” Emma says. “And I’m...well, at the risk of sounding like a melodramatic idiot, this is something I’m really good at.” “That’s not melodramatic. It’s not entirely true, but it’s not melodramatic.” “You don’t know enough about me to know it’s not true.” Killian shakes his head, the smile on his face making it very difficult to come up with all those reasons Emma was so certain of a few seconds before. “I think I still know you pretty well. And I know you’re far too hard on yourself. It’s not necessary. Although,” he adds, grabbing a stick of butter and a knife, “you want these chopped?” “Yes, into, like...just, you know follow the lines on the wrapper? Was that your follow-up question?” “No, no, I just figured I should continue to pull my weight around here.” “It’s been kind of a ridiculous few days, I think you could get a pass.” Another head shake. This one is a little more tired and a little more anxious and several of Emma’s internal organs lurch at the sight. “I’d be very interested in knowing every single about you from the last twenty years.” She giggles. An honest to God, real life giggle. It feels like it bubbles straight out of her soul and explodes into rainbows and those little animated hearts that showed up on the Saturday morning cartoons they used to watch when they were kids, the ones that always showed how in love a character was.

Damn, Emma hates when Ruby is right.

“What do you want to know?” Emma asks, and Killian beams. While cutting up butter.

They’re sitting on the floor of the kitchen twenty minutes later, pie in the oven and a bowl of berries in between them – We’re getting real berries, Swan, if you’re going to bake the pie, the least you can do is eat it too – and Emma knows her teeth are stained blue. It doesn’t seem to be bothering Killian, who doesn’t seem to have an end to his list of questions.

“Ok, what about prom?” “What about it?” “Did you go?” “And you dare to suggest you know me.” He rolls his head onto his shoulder, unimpressed. “I don’t need to rehash old points of the conversation, Swan. An answer, please and thank you.” “No,” Emma shakes her head. “I was...somewhere at that point, shit, when are you supposed to go to prom?” “I don’t know, I didn’t go.” “You didn’t go?” “Do you know me? It was far too middle America. I had no use for corsages or tuxedos or spending all that money on a limo to just stand awkwardly on a dance floor. Plus, you know, it’d probably help to have some friends who would want to go. Or a girl.” He mumbles the last few words, refusing to meet Emma’s gaze and she hates how stunned she is. She’s incredibly stunned. “God, what a bunch of idiots.” “Who? Me and you?” “No, well, yes, but mostly the teenage population of Storybrooke whenever you’re technically supposed to go to prom. Probably like sixteen, right? They’re the idiots. I bet you’d be a great dancer anyway.” Killian chuckles, soft and still a little nervous, which makes Emma’s organs react again, but she’s also pretty positive she can feel something in the admittedly minimal amount of space between them and it might be magic.

She kind of hopes it’s magic.

It feels a lot like what she thinks magic would feel like.

“That’s an awful lot of confidence you’re throwing my direction, Swan.” “I’m not throwing it,” Emma argues. “I’m placing it. Lightly. At your feet. Which I’m sure are incredibly rhythmic.” “I’d at least be able to ask Shakespeare for some lessons. I’m sure he’s got tips.” Emma hums, not entirely in agreement, but mostly in contentment. “When’d you get your first leather jacket?” “I was fourteen.” “Wow, a bad boy from a very young age.” “Nah, a wanna-be. Mostly because I thought it’d make me look cool and, well...I remembered Liam having one when he was younger.” Emma doesn’t gasp. She’s proud of herself for that. She does, however, lick her lips and that might be worse because Killian notices and that means Killian is looking at her lips. It suddenly feels impossibly warm in her kitchen.

“That must have been before I got to Storybrooke,” Emma murmurs, and Killian nods.

“Yeah, I think it must have been. Ok. What about…movie...snack?” “Popcorn. With melted malt balls on top.” Killian makes a scandalized noise, complete with tongue and that only means Emma is also staring at her lips. Maybe they are the idiots of this story. “That is disgusting,” he proclaims. “How do you make that?” “Oh, it’s a very refined recipe. Lots of boiling and melting and—” She can’t help but laugh when he gapes at her, some of the tension twisting in between her shoulders loosening at the color of his eyes. “C’mon. I use a microwave. It’s the least complex thing I make.”

“That still sounds disgusting. It can’t be very healthy.” “Strangely enough I’m not thinking about my blood pressure when I’m watching movies.” “Favorite?” “Hmmmm?” “Your favorite movie,” Killian says, pausing between every word as if Emma is under oath and the fate of several different galaxies rests on her answer. They’re not actually dealing with aliens. “When we were kids it was—” “—Still is. That, uh...that hasn’t changed.”

He’s silent for a moment, another far too charged moment with irregular temperatures and the growing scent of a pie with way more berries than the recipe called for hanging in the air. And then he’s moving, reaching up towards the counter and knocking the roll of saran wrap on the floor, plastic spilling at his feet.

“Ah, damn,” Killian sighs. “That’s not nearly as romantic as I was hoping it would be.” Emma clicks her tongue. “I think it went ok.” “Something about kissing, right? At the end? Most passionate, most pure...this one left them all behind. That’s how it goes?” “Yeah,” she breathes, yanking off a far-too-long sheet of saran wrap. “Is this a kissing book?” “I’d very much like it to be.”

Emma giggles again – straight into the plastic and against his mouth and she sees him shift, doing his best to keep any other limbs away from her and how much she wants to touch his goddamn hair. They stay in each other's space for a moment, quick kisses that turn back into longer ones that turn into quick and bruising and a slew of other adjectives that probably look ridiculous to anything else.

It feels a little life-changing to Emma.

Killian is the first one to make a noise that time, a victory of the make-out variety for Emma and her distinct lack of make-out experience. He opens his mouth against her, like he wants to tug on her lower lip or do something that involves the tongue that’s been distracting her all day, and both of those are impossible. Emma appreciates the effort.

“I stole gloves from Ruby’s apartment,” Killian mumbles through the plastic against her chin, and Emma startles at that.

“Is that code?” “We should come up with a code. I bet that’d infuriate Ruby.” “You’ve known Ruby for point two seconds and you’re already trying to infuriate her?” “Don’t forget stealing from her. That’s really the important part.” “Why’d you steal glove?” Emma asks, still a little breathless and a little giggly and a little something after all those kisses. And she kind of knows the answer.

Killian kisses her through the crumpled-up plastic again. “To hold your hand.”

“Emma. Emma, are you there?” Emma blinks blearily, trying to take in her surroundings and there isn’t anything there. She’s standing on nothing, nothing but darkness around her and a distinct lack of anything. The voice yells her name again.

“What the hell…” Emma starts, stumbling backwards when she blinks and there are two people standing in front of her.

The woman is shorter than the man, dark hair in a pixie cut and a soft look to her eyes that feels like it could wrap around Emma and protect her for the rest of forever and, at the same time, cut down anyone who dared to threaten that. The man isn’t much taller than Killian, hair almost sandy in color and a set of his jaw that feels far too familiar.

Emma curses. It’s distinctly piratical.

The woman’s eyebrows leap. “Oh,” she mutters, but the man is laughing and he sounds kind of proud. “Well, that was...I mean, that’s fair.”

“What is going on?” Emma demands.

“You have to listen to us, Emma. This is important and there isn’t much time. But...things are happening now that have been destined to happen since, well, the dawn of time—” “—What?” “Don’t interrupt,” the man chides. He’s smiling at Emma. And it all feels like déjà vu and answers to questions Emma’s never wanted to ask for fear of what she’ll find out. She bites her tongue.

“It’s going to get difficult, sweetheart,” the woman continues. “But it won’t always be like that. You won’t always be like that. And, I promise, he’ll understand.” Emma blinks. “Who? Who will understand, what?”

“It’s going to be worth it, Emma. No matter what you think. Love is always worth it.”

Emma opens her mouth to ask what the hell are you talking about again, but she takes a breath and everything shimmers and her phone is ringing.

“You’ve got to answer that, love,” Killian mumbles, back on the living room floor with a glove on his right hand and fingers brushing Emma’s forearm.

Emma shakes her head, trying to get rid of metaphorical and possible literal cobwebs and she’s already having a difficult time remembering what she just saw. She grabs her phone off the coffee table, nearly hitting her head in the process and Ruby is already talking as soon as Emma swipes her thumb across the screen.

“Em,” she says sharply. “You’ve got to get down here. They found another body.”

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #one foot in #MAGIC #MAKING OUT #MAYOR MILLS BEING A PROBLEM #nailed the alliteration #i'm still sad about the rangers that's my excuse for everything

42 notes · View notes

searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

An Education in Southern Gothic: 1/2

Here it is, my first contribution to the @cssns! I am so excited to share this with all of you! It’s based on a ghost story that kids would tell at a school where I used to teach. The school really was built on the former grounds of a Southern plantation, and it really did have a small graveyard on school property. The most fun for me was putting our favorite Once characters in a Southern setting, and I hope you all enjoy reading it just as much! Part two is already written and will post tomorrow.

Much thanks to @snowbellewells, my fellow English teacher and grammar queen. Your metaphorical red pen was a life saver!

The above eerie art with a Southern flair by @hollyethecurious

Summary - Fact: there’s a graveyard between the football field and the science building. Debatable: a ghost haunts the halls of Misthaven Hills High. Emma Swan is about to get an education. Killian Jones is about to get a whole lot more.

Rating: T

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals (let me know if I missed anyone!): @welllpthisishappening @kday426 @jennjenn615 @let-it-raines @kmomof4 @teamhook @bethacaciakay @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @optomisticgirl @distant-rose @xhookswenchx @wellhellotragic @tiganasummertree @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @branlovestowrite @ohmakemeahercules @shireness-says @mythologicalmango @vvbooklady1256 @gingerchangeling @ultraluckycatnd @revanmeetra87

Chapter One: Urban Legend 101

It’s not so much the two-foot high, decorative fence of ornate black metal. Nor the ancient tombstones tilting in the Georgia red clay and cracking down the middle. Emma Swan isn’t the type to find anything chilling in the realities of death. It’s just a graveyard, she would say with a roll of her eyes, even as a child. She was always that kid willing to traipse across a grave when dared, never once entertaining the idea that the person buried beneath would be angry, disturbed, or even care. Rotting bones, that’s all there was beneath the earth. Not angry souls of the departed.

Yet this one has a chill skittering across her spine, especially when a breeze sends the Spanish moss swaying. The olive green vegetation drips from the live oak shading this little plot. This is her first Georgia fall, but she already knows the chill isn’t in the air. Even if it is early October.

“Rather creepy, isn’t it?” says a British accent at her side, and the sound makes her jump.

“Shit, Jones!” she snaps.

“Language,” he admonishes, with an exaggerated wag of his fingers. Her eye roll earns her a soft chuckle. He crosses his arms and regards the gravestones silently beside her.

“I didn’t believe the kids,” Emma admits, “until Henry Mills actually hauled a heavy book into class.”

“Aye, that lad is a believer if I ever saw one.”

“Yeah,” she agrees fondly, “so I had to come out here and see for myself. How did I not know there was a graveyard here?”

“You mean tucked between the football field and the science labs?” Killian quips. “Why would you?”

“Shouldn’t there be a plaque or something?” she arches a brow at her friend. “Huh, Mr. History Buff?”

He rubs at the scruff on his jaw in feigned deep thought. She finds herself staring a bit too intently at the cut of his handsome face and quickly glances away. Killian hadn’t exactly endeared himself to her at their first meeting back in late July. She was rushing to her first faculty meeting at Misthaven Hills High, and running across the parking lot in the 99 degree humidity hadn’t exactly put her in the best mood. Killian’s over the top flirting when she slid into the only available seat in the packed library had earned him a swift kick to the shin. If it hadn’t been for Mary Margaret and David, she would have assumed the history teacher was a total asshole.

Yet it turned out that Killian was David’s best friend, and David was the husband of her college roommate and best friend Mary Margaret. Killian was also friends with Belle, the librarian; Ariel, the biology teacher and swim coach; Robin, the PE teacher; and even Robin’s wife, Regina, who was also the school principal. The students also adored him, and not just the girls who swooned over his looks. She couldn’t go anywhere in this school and find anyone who disliked the man. So she begrudgingly had to admit she’d been wrong about him.

Now, two and a half months later, she honestly counts him as one of her best friends. They understand one another in a way that’s almost uncanny. Best of all, Killian’s flirting never pushes past the teasing type that makes her smile. While Mary Margaret and David fret about Emma’s walls, Killian respects them, even understands why Emma feels she needs them. And for that, she appreciates and welcomes his friendship.

“You know, this just may be the perfect subject for the next grant request. I need to get with Belle on that.”

“A ghost story can get us a grant?”

“Of course!” he tells her with a wide grin. “History fanatics love a good ghost story. Especially one that took place on a southern plantation.”

Emma frowns and cocks her head at the tiny plot. “This town couldn’t have bought land someplace else?”

Killian chuckles and nudges her in the ribs. “What is it, Swan, do you believe in ghost stories?”

“No,” she scoffs with a wave of her hand, “I just think it’s creepy that they had to build the school around tombstones.”

“So,” Killian says, voice dropping low as he saunters close to her, “you don’t believe that the ghost of Cora Mills wanders these hallways, angry at being hung on this very tree simply for taking vengeance that was rightfully hers?”

A shudder runs through Emma as a breeze rustles the tree again, as if it can hear Killian’s words. His breath against her ear doesn’t help either.

“While she continues to make breakfast foods?” she says to cover up her reaction.

She hopes the arch of her brow conveys her incredulity. Her students had claimed that sometimes you could hear bacon sizzling and the cracking of eggs. That sometimes you could even smell it. The ghost of Cora Mills eternally cooking that final breakfast she had set before Tara and Jonathan Lautour before stabbing them to death with a butcher knife.

“The story makes no sense,” Emma snaps, propping her hands on her hips. “Why make them breakfast when she planned on killing them?”

Killian leans closer, waggling his eyebrows. In an ominous voice he says, “So they wouldn’t see it coming.”

Emma shoves him in the chest and his laughter sings on the autumn breeze.

“You’re as full of it as the kids are, Jones.”

His laughter rings behind her as she marches back to the main school building to get her things before heading home for the afternoon. The cold dread that skitters down her spine is just her mind playing tricks on her.

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

“You want me to do what?!”

Mary Margaret sighs and gives her a withering look as if she’s her petulant two-year-old. “I think I spoke clearly, Emma.”

Killian snorts, earning him a dig in the ribs from Emma. Jasmine stares intently into her salad as if avoiding eye contact with Mary Margaret will save her from being roped into the deal along with Emma. The four of them make up the entire humanities department: Emma English, Killian history, Mary Margaret art, and Jasmine drama and music. They’re also co-sponsors of both the school paper and the yearbook. It’s the downside to teaching in a town as small as Misthaven. Yet the upside is the bond they share with students whom they teach for four years straight.

“I’ve just assigned research papers to my juniors,” Emma argues, “and I got stuck with the homecoming issue of the paper, remember?”

“It’s just one night,” Mary Margaret says, throwing in a pout for good measure.

“Why the hell do the cheerleaders spend the night in the cafeteria?”

“Language!” her colleagues chorus.

Emma rolls her eyes. “As if Regina even watches her language. I heard her call Will Scarlett a little piece of shit just yesterday.”

“That’s because his parents call him that,” Killian quipped.

“Anyways,” Emma says with a wave of her hand, “I’m not spending the night at the school, especially not on the cafeteria floor.”

“We bring air mattresses,” Mary Margaret explained, “and it’s a tradition. This time of year, the girls are so busy with football and homecoming that they don’t get enough practice in for competition season -”

“Which starts in two weeks,” Jasmine puts in.

“Exactly,” Mary Margaret continues, “so we do an overnight practice.”

“And you don’t sleep in the gym because . . .” Emma grumbles.

“There’s no air conditioning.”

“Aye,” Killian put in, “you may be new to the South, Swan, but surely you already know that air conditioning is a necessity, not a luxury.”

“Thank you for your expert opinion, Brit.”

“Emma, I beg of you,” Mary Margaret says, “I need a certain number of chaperones, and my assistant coach is pregnant.”

“So?”

“Nine months pregnant. She can’t sleep on an air mattress!” She clutches Emma’s arm. “She’s going to stay for the entire practice. All I need you to do is be an adult presence.”

“A warm body,” Killian clarifies.

“Exactly. Until David and Killian get there with breakfast at 6 am.”

“See, Swan, just until - wait, what am I doing?”

Emma laughs at Killian’s confused expression. Jasmine almost chokes on a cherry tomato.

“You and David are bringing us Chick-fil-A at 6 am. The order has already been placed.”

“Wait!” Emma raises a hand to stop Mary Margaret’s words. “Why didn’t you say that sooner? You would have had me at chicken biscuit. Unless there won’t be hashbrowns.”

She turns and grasps Killian’s arm.

“Will there be hashbrowns?”

He chuckles and pats her hand. “Emma, I swear you would sell your soul for greasy food.”

“Answer my question, Jones.”

“Yes, love, there will be hashbrowns.”

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

Emma seriously cannot believe she agreed to this. Killian was right: she’s way too addicted to fast food. Otherwise she wouldn’t be blowing up twenty-three air mattresses in a high school cafeteria. At least she’s in the air conditioning and not in the sweltering gym like Mary Margaret and her assistant coach.

The final air mattress plumps up, and Emma cuts off the air pump. As the whirring stops, the cafeteria feels eerily quiet. A shiver runs down her spine, but Emma shakes it off. She wraps the cord around the pump and puts it back into the box Mary Margaret was very insistent it had to be stored in. Emma turns to put it in the plastic storage tub, chuckling again at the sparkly label: “MHHS Cheer Squad Glamping Supplies.” As she snaps the lid in place, she sees a figure out of the corner of her eye.

“Finally,” she huffs as she turns, “Violet, you were supposed to . . . “

Emma trails off as she sees nothing but the empty doorway leading out into the hall. Hmm, maybe she ducked into the bathroom, Emma thinks as she crosses the large room. Her boots echo off the tile floors, and that damn shiver runs through her again. It’s all because of Killian and Henry and all of their stupid ghost stories.

And the graveyard between the football field and the science labs? Her traitorous mind adds. Which, by the way, also isn’t that far from the cafeteria?

“Seriously, Emma, get a grip,” she mumbles out loud to herself and then proceeds to be one of those ridiculous people who roll their eyes at themselves.

“Violet?” she calls, poking her head into the girls restroom. The light is flipped off, and Emma realizes that the freshman would never use the bathroom in the pitch dark. She turns and nearly collides with a short, slim figure with dark hair. “Sh - Violet!”

“Sorry Ms. Swan,” the girl apologizes, “you were calling me?”

Emma shakes her head. “Yeah, I was, sorry.”

“Coach Ms said I’m supposed to help lay out all the sleeping bags and goody bags and stuff.”

“Goody bags?”

“Yeah, it’s a tradition.”

Emma rolls her eyes. Again. “Of course it is.”

She sighs and leads the girl over to where all of the cheerleaders had deposited their things. There are glittery signs on the wall with each girl’s name. Naturally.

Neither Emma nor Violet notice the shadow that melts into the dark recesses of the kitchen.

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

“And now Cora Mills, rejected by her lover Jonathan LaTour, plunges her knife into his heart: Again! And Again! And Again!”

With one hand holding a flashlight beneath her chin, Ruby, a senior on the cheerleading squad, lifts her other hand to make stabbing motions. The other girls in the circle jolt slightly at the violent hand gestures. Relishing her audience’s reactions, Ruby grins wickedly as she continues the macabre tale.

“Tara LaTour screams, but before she can even rise from the dining room table, Cora descends on her as well!”

The girls now audibly shudder as Ruby makes stabbing motions again. Her friend Ashley at her right makes screeching noises like in the movie Psycho. Ruby hands the flashlight off to her.

“Do we really have to listen to this story?” Emma whispers into Mary Margaret’s ear, “I mean, some of the younger ones look like they’re about to wet their pants.”

Mary Margaret laughs her off, “It’s a tradition for the seniors to tell it. Scaring the freshmen is part of the fun.”

“Great,” Emma mumbles, “another tradition.”

“Covered in blood,” Ashley picks up the tale, dropping her normally sweet voice down several octaves, “Cora Mills sits calmly at the dining table and finishes her victims’ breakfast!”

“Ewww!” the girls all chorus, followed by nervous giggling.

“That’s how the police found her. They were so horrified, they dragged her out that very morning and hung her on the oak tree. Right. Over. There!”

Ashley points dramatically towards the door that leads outside. At the same moment, a loud clattering sound comes from the kitchen and all the girls scream. Emma’s loathe to admit it, but even she jumps, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Calm down girls,” Mary Margaret admonishes gently, “it’s probably just the commercial size dishwasher.”

The next senior takes the flashlight, a tiny, nervous girl named Aurora. Emma isn’t expecting her to get into such a terrifying tale, but the normally timid girl turns out to be quite the little actress.

“Now Misthaven Hills Plantation is no more,” she intones, “instead, our high school sits on the land where the tragic murder took place. Cora Mills, still vengeful, roams these very halls.”

All of the girls are leaning forward now, hanging on every word.

“If you listen, you can still hear her making that breakfast,” Aurora pauses and cocks her head as if she hears something. The rest do the same.

“D-do ya’ll h-hear that?” stutters Tiana, a normally tough junior.

The girls scream again, and Emma has to admit, she thought she might have heard something. Probably a mouse, but she doesn’t know if that theory will lessen the screaming. Thankfully, whatever the noise was stops, and the girls nervously glance at one another and giggle. Aurora continues, sniffing the air to punctuate her words.

“Often these halls smell of bacon and eggs.”

“Or whatever slop the cafeteria is cooking up,” Emma grumbles under her breath, and Mary Margaret pokes her in the side.

“And,” Aurora continues, leaning forward to drag out the suspense, “do you know what the ghost of Cora Mills is always looking for?”

“What?” the rest of the girls all whisper.

“The body of a girl to possess, but not just any girl,” Aurora pauses dramatically again, looking each girl in the eye, “a girl who is secretly crushing on a guy. So she can seduce that guy and . . . KILL HIM!!”

The girls all gasp and rear back, and Emma hides a giggle behind her hand.

“Then Violet better what o-out!” Grace, one of the freshmen, sing-songs.

“Me?” Violet squeaks.

“Everyone knows you’ve got a huge crush on Henry Mills!”

Even by the light of the lone flashlight, Emma can see the poor girl blush as chaos breaks loose among the cheerleaders. Some giggle, others make kissing noises, while Grace shakes her friend’s shoulder.

“All right, girls, that’s enough!” Mary Margaret admonishes, and they all quickly settle down. “I don’t allow teasing or bullying of any kind, remember?”

“But Coach Ms,” Grace potests, “Violet hasn’t tried to hide that she likes Henry.”

“Except from Henry,” Ruby quips, and they all giggle again.

“What exactly,” Violet asks nervously, “does the ghost do?”

“Oh honey,” Mary Margaret tries to assure the girl, “it’s just a silly story.”

“I don’t know,” Ashley argues with a shrug, “back in 2009 there was that boy who drowned this time of year, remember? His girlfriend was passed out on the shore of the lake with no memory of how she got there!”

“And in 99,” Ruby adds, “a couple was leaving the homecoming dance, and for no reason at all, the girl drove the car right into a tree. Killed the boy instantly, and the girl didn’t even remember going to the dance at all.”

“And Henry’s last name is Mills!” Violet gasped. “Is . . . is that a sign? Is the ghost going to get me? And then Henry?”

“Okay, everyone stop!” Emma calls out, rising and flipping on the light. She sits down next to the poor fourteen-year-old and takes her hands. “Violet, this whole thing is ridiculous. This is high school. Secret crushes are the norm. If this story were true, teenage boys would be dropping like flies around here.”

That gets a giggle out of the freshmen, but the upperclassmen look a little peeved.

“But back in 89 -”

“Stop,” Emma cuts Aurora off, “I think it’s time for bed.”

The girls all grumble, but begin sliding down into their sleeping bags nevertheless. Emma takes the flashlight from the seniors so she can flip the lights off once again.

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

Emma isn’t surprised that she fell soundly asleep on an air mattress on the hard cafeteria floor. After all, years of foster care followed by life on the streets and crashing in her Bug have made her adaptable. These are far from the worst accommodations she’s ever had. However, she’s awakened a few hours later by frantic, high-pitched voices and hands shaking her.

“Ms. Swan! Ms. Swan!”

Emma sits up groggily, squinting to see with the beam of a flashlight shining in her face.

“Shit girls, you’ll blind me!”

“Language.”

Emma turns towards the admonition. “Ms?”

“There’s something in there,” Ruby squeaks.

“In where?”

“The kitchen,” Aurora whispers. She’s the one holding the flashlight in trembling hands.

“Girls, please -”

“No, Emma,” Mary Margaret says, “someone is definitely in there.”

That fully wakes Emma up. She sits and holds up both hands, shushing the whispering girls. For two heartbeats, there is only silence. Then, the distinct sound of spoons hitting metal reverberates through the cafeteria accompanied by the definite hissing of . . . bacon.

The girls all scream, naturally, and Emma harshly tells them to be quiet. She stands, yanking the flashlight unceremoniously out of Aurora’s hands. She places a finger to her lips, and the girls fall silent again as Emma turns and creeps towards the kitchen. Her heartbeat quickens as she sees a flickering light spilling out of the industrial room and over the cheap tile. Ruby is clutching one of Emma’s arms while Ashley clutches the other. Tiana is almost plastered to Emma’s back. The rest of the cheerleaders are in a tight bunch behind her, while Mary Margaret brings up the rear with Grace and Violet clinging to her sides.

“I’m calling David,” Mary Margaret whispers, pulling out her cell phone.

Emma stops beside the empty salad bar where she has a view into part of the kitchen, and crouches down. The girls all follow suit behind her. It’s almost comical how twenty one teenage girls and two grown women are squeezing themselves between the wall and the salad bar.

Now that they are closer to the kitchen, Emma can swear she smells bacon and eggs, but she tells herself it has to be her mind playing tricks on her. What is definite though are the cooking sounds coming from the kitchen. She can hear a whisk hitting rhythmically against the sides of a bowl and the sound of something sizzling in a frying pan. Behind her, the girls’ screams are muffled behind their hands. Emma turns, shining the flashlight at their feet so the girls can see her without being blinded. At the back of the group, Mary Margaret is talking into her phone in a tight whisper.

“Yes, David, there is someone in the kitchen!” She pauses to listen to her husband. “No, we are not imagining things! Now get over here right now before I have a heart attack!”

Emma bites her lower lip to keep from laughing as Mary Margaret hangs up her phone indignantly. She then speaks softly to the girls.

“Listen, most likely this is just someone playing a prank. Everyone knows you girls do this every year.” The girls all visibly relax slightly at Emma’s logic. “Now, I’m going to go in there as quietly as I can to take them by surprise. You all stay out here.”

“Emma, I really think you need to wait for David and Killian,” Mary Margaret tells her, “they said they’re on their way.”

Emma quirks a smile at her friend. “Please. The only one who rescues me is me.”

She ignores the whimpers of the girls and Mary Margaret hissing her name in a motherly tone as she slips inside the kitchen. She shines the beam of her flashlight over the serving line to her right and the dish area to her left. Nothing.

There’s a loud clatter that startles Emma, and the girls out in the cafeteria as well, based on the high-pitched screams. Emma swings the beam of her flashlight which illuminates a stainless steel bowl spinning in the center of the kitchen floor. Around the corner, where the stoves and ovens are, a strange, blue-tinged light is pulsing.

“We know you’re in here,” Emma calls out, “and it isn’t funny!”

The sounds of cooking are louder, the smells stronger, and there is no denying it: someone is cooking bacon and eggs in the middle of the night. Emma takes one slow step after another, then rounds the corner with the heavy camping flashlight held up like a weapon. She freezes at the sight before her, a shadowy figure radiating an eerie light. The figure pauses in stirring an empty skillet, turning its head slowly to look right at Emma . . .

The flashlight hits the floor, rolling across the industrial tile and colliding with the stainless steel bowl with a loud crash.

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

The last thing Killian wants to do on a Friday night is go to Misthaven Hills High. David is the football coach, and it’s one of his few off nights of the season. The two of them and Robin had been enjoying a rare guys night out at the local wings place, watching the Braves in the playoffs, when David got a frantic phone call from Mary Margaret. It was an insane phone call, really, but Mary Margaret isn’t the type to scare easily, so here they are pulling up to the mostly empty parking lot of the high school.

The three of them knock on the heavy outside doors to the cafeteria, and Mary Margaret immediately opens it and yanks them inside.

“Thank God you - wait, where are your weapons?”

“Weapons - “ David starts to laugh, but Mary Margaret is clearly not in a humorous mood.

“Yes, weapons! A gun? A baseball bat?”

“A sword,” Killian teases.

“A bow and arrow,” Robin adds with a chuckle.

Both men stop laughing immediately when Mary Margaret shoves them back outside.

“I guess she’s serious,” David sighs.

Luckily, David has a shotgun hidden under the back of the truck cab, and a baseball bat in his sports bag for when he and Killian hit the batting cages at the rec. David takes the gun, Killian the bat, and Robin breaks a branch off one of the dogwood trees that dot the school landscaping. Hopefully Leroy, the school groundskeeper, won’t find out it was them who desecrated one of his trees.

Who are they kidding? He’ll blame it on the kids.

“Is this legal?” Robin whispers as they head back to the cafeteria. “Being armed on school property?”

“I think legality is a bit of a grey area nearing midnight on a Friday night,” Killian whispers back.

Mary Margaret greets them by practically falling into David’s arms and frantically gesturing to the kitchen. The cheerleaders are huddled nearby literally clinging to one another.

“Emma thought it was someone playing a prank,” Mary Margaret tells them, “so she went in there to confront them, and . . . and . . . “

“Is she okay?” Killian asks, immediately alarmed, and pushing past his friends to head for the kitchen.

His friends follow, Mary Margaret still talking in frantic tones. “I don’t know. I heard her shout something at the person, then her flashlight went out, then there was a crash.”

The four of them collide into the salad bar, causing Killian to curse and the cheerleaders to scream.

“I can’t see a damn thing!” Robin mutters

“Where’s my cell phone?” David says, patting at his jeans pockets.

Ruby scurries over with a tiny flashlight bedazzled with red gems and offers it to Killian. He turns it on so they won’t trip over anything else, though its beam is about as powerful as a lightning bug. God, he’s been in the South too long. Next thing he knows, he’ll be saying ya’ll and bless your heart.

The four of them rush into the kitchen with the seventeen-year-old cheerleading captain on their heels, but they all come to a screeching halt to find Emma standing there in the middle of the dark room.

“Emma?” Killian questions.

She turns slowly to him and blinks with a slight shake of her head. Then she looks him up and down, a slow smile filling her face. She doesn’t even acknowledge the rest of their friends behind him.

“Yes?” she asks almost tentatively.

“You’re okay?”

“Never better,” she almost purrs.

Killian deflates, grinning at her flirtatious quip. “Well, you’re depriving me of a dashing rescue, love,” he jokes.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret cries out, flying past the men to grab Emma in a hug, which the blonde awkwardly accepts. “You scared us to death! What were those sounds? Did you find anyone?”

“She’s okay!” Ruby shouts to the other cheerleaders as she runs back out to them. “And nothing weird is in here!”

“Well,” Emma says slowly, looking around her.

Killian tilts his head, something seeming a bit off about her mannerisms. She looks at him again, an arch lifting her brow, and he swallows nervously under her gaze. She walks slowly forward, resting a hand first on Killian’s bicep, then on Robin’s and David’s, appraising each man as if she were admiring sports cars at the dealership.

“Emma?” he says again, a bit worried now.

“Oh, none of you need to worry about me,” she says with a light laugh. “The girls just had overactive imagination after all those ghost stories.”

“But we heard . . . “ Mary Margaret trails off.

Emma shrugs. “The kitchen staff left out some bowls and things. I suppose there was a mouse?”

Mary Margaret sighs and laughs softly at herself. “Of course! I should have thought of that! And the smells were all in our imagination probably.”

Everyone heads out of the kitchen except for Killian, who stops Emma with a hand to her arm. He looks intently into her face, unsure what he’s searching for, but hoping to find an explanation .

“Are you sure you’re okay, Swan?”

“Oh, darling, I haven’t felt this good in years.”

Killian is so confused by the words coming out of his best friend’s mouth, that he barely registers the way Emma trails her fingers across his jaw. That is, until her fingers drift lower to the open vneck of his henley. He startles at the slightly seductive touch and grasps her fingers loosely.

“You seem a bit off, love.”

“Whatever do you mean,” Emma asks with a slow smile as she leans closer, “Killian?”

She saunters past him, her hand trailing across his shoulder as she goes, and Killian for almost a full minute is frozen in place.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, “did she fall and hit her head?”

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

Cora Mills rather likes this body she has inhabited - this Emma Swan. She normally hates thin blondes, but this woman is at least fit. And she’s a grown woman with curves and more mature tastes. The last several she had inhabited were mere girls, and the young men she had seduced hardly a challenge. But Killian Jones . . .

She slinks down into the soft cocoon the others called a sleeping bag, a pleasant smile upon her lips as the lights go out. She had been thrilled to see this room full of possible targets on the one night every ten years when she could re-enter the world of the living. She was even more thrilled when Emma Swan walked into that kitchen, her unspoken love crying out to Cora in delicious agony. And when Cora had laid eyes on the object of Emma Swan’s affections, well - what more could a woman want?

It was a shame his pretty face couldn’t save him from a violent death.

#cs ff #cssns #cssns 2019 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ghost fic #ghost possession #teacher!Killian #teacher!emma #enemies to friends to lovers #ouat in the South

88 notes · View notes

twothumbsandnostakeincanon · 5 years

Note

how about someone(s) get his with a truth spell/serum for a prompt. how does that go and who takes advantage of it to ask their burning questions?

“What were you really doing at the movie theater?”

“Seeing the Lego Movie sequel, I told you.”

Scott sat back, disappointed. He had been so sure that Peter was lying that day.

“Are you sure he got hit with the truth spell?” he asked Stiles.

“Yep,” Stiles answered, amused. “Right in the chest. You have about twenty more minutes to ask all your burning questions about Peter’s theater habits.”

“I don’t know why you all seem to think that I spend all my time lying,” Peter said, relaxed. “The truth is much more fun most of the time.”

“What do you actually think of Derek’s homemade granola?” Erica called over from the other side of the room.

“Heavy but filling.”

Erica pouted.

“That’s what you said last time.”

“Well it’s not as if he can improve his recipe without honest opinions, can he?”

“You’re all asking lame questions,” Cora said. “Let’s start a fight. Peter, what do you think of Derek’s new girlfriend?”

Peter shrugged.

“She doesn’t seem like she’s murdered anyone lately, which is more than I can say for most of the people in this room. And she doesn’t put raisins in her cinnamon rolls. Could be worse.”

“Thank you for the approval,” Derek said dryly.

“C’mon, someone think of something good to ask him,” Isaac whined. “This is our one chance to make him admit to anything!”

Erica rolled her eyes, saying, “What, do you want us to ask who his crush is?”

“Stiles,” Peter answered promptly. Stiles immediately choked on his own tongue. Peter looked over at him, slightly concerned but more judgemental.

“I thought you were joking!!” Stiles sputtered out. Peter sighed.

“I really don’t know why you all insist on believing I’m lying all the time.”

“I didn’t think you were lying,” Stiles defended, “just... not serious when you asked me out.”

“Well, I was.” He looked at Stiles appraisingly. “I still have the tickets, if your answer has changed. The show doesn’t start for another hour.”

"Fuck yes, let’s go!”

“Wait!” Scott protested. “You can’t- he- what if-”

“Scott buddy, stop worrying. You literally could not have more honest proof of his intentions,” Stiles said as he gathered his coat.

“My intentions aren’t pure at all,” Peter volunteered. “But they are honest.”

Scott continued to stare after them even as they closed the front door behind them. Everyone else got up and started milling around until Derek spoke up.

“... does anyone else think my granola is too heavy?”

#this blog needs a tag for my bullshit #anon #anonymous #tumblr fic and kinda fic #Anonymous

221 notes · View notes

alj4890 · 4 years

Text

RCD Appreciation Week Day 6 Prompt

(Matt Rodriguez x Addison Sinclaire) with the day's given prompt concerning side characters of Red Carpet Diaries.

(Matt x Addison) A Choices Red Carpet Diaries Fan Fiction one shot

A/N I realized I have never had these two meet in a storyline. I always start them well after they are close. I thought I might spice things up a bit with showing their first encounter and falling for one another.

@rcd-appreciation @hopelessromantic1352 @lilyofchoices @moodyvalentinestories @krsnlove @sunflowergirl05 @cora-nova

Masterlist

Crushing It

"I can do this." Addison repeated over and over, and what the heck, over once more. She carried a few possible outfits toward a trailer sitting back behind a sound stage.

She took a deep breath and tried to prepare herself at meeting for the first time an actual real life movie star. "Be cool." She commanded herself. "No giggling or drooling allowed!"

Just as she went to knock, the door opened.

OMG!!! HE'S BETTER LOOKING IN PERSON! HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?!? Her mind screamed at her. "Hi!" Her voice squeaked. "I um..." Say something! Her brain commanded as the part that controled her lips failed to register. You look so stupid right now! Say anything before he figures out what a fangirl you are!

Matt smiled warmly at her. "You must be the new costume designer. Can I help you with those?" He reached over and took some of the hangers from her.

"No, yes, I mean..." She had to tear her eyes from his face. Get it together Sinclaire! "I am the new girl and thank you for helping. I'm Addison."

Oh. My. Look at that smile. And it's directed at me. Brain functions turning to mush. Body slowly melting at his cuteness.

She smiled back at him while walking inside. Matt's trailer was simple in design. The only luxuries were the plush comfortable furniture everywhere, most likely to help recover from strenuous action scenes. Possibly shirtless action scenes.

"Which do you want me to try on first?" Matt asked.

Addison set the clothes down and focused on her new job. She picked some shirt and pant combos then debated on others. Matt's smile grew with her finally becoming less nervous and just a tad bossy.

At one point, she helped him take off a shirt she decided was the wrong color for his golden skin tone. Her fingers brushed against his chiseled abs snapping her back to the fact that she was undressing Matt Rodriguez, the very man she had kept a poster of above her bed in college.

Matt noticed the blush suddenly appear on her cheeks and the slight shaking of her hands. She was reverting back to the one he had first met. He wasn't sure which was cuter on her, the shy nervous miss or the miniature blonde Napoleon.

"Which color do think looks best on me? He asked to help her refocus.

She slowly lifted her eyes up his torso. "Er...mostly warm but there are a few in the cool colors you can wear."

"Isn't every color cool if I wear it?" He teased.

Addison giggled and nearly threw herself out the window when she snorted in a very unattractive way while giggling. Granted it would have only been like a six foot drop, but maybe the bruises would snap her out of this high school crush rapidly developing.

"I think this is the one." She handed him a snug dark blue t-shirt. The soft material outlined every aspect his trainer had made him work on.

"Wow." She mumbled. Her eyes met his and she blushed some more. "Are you allowed to eat carbs?" Why don't you just blurt out every thought? Perhaps throw in a couple of embarrassing stories from childhood next time.

"Allowed? No." His lips curved into a sheepish smile. "But I dream about them every night."

Addison nearly doubled over laughing at his exaggerated longing expression. He mocked being hurt at her making light of his passionate love for breads and pastas.

"When the movie is finished, I promise to take you out for an all you can eat carb night on the town." Her smile glowed with how easy it was becoming to talk to him. His ability to make fun of himself made him so incredibly adorable.

"You know I am going to hold you to that." Matt walked over to a calendar he had on the wall. "Phil promised me that we should be done shooting in another six weeks." He circled the week in red and wrote PDA across it.

"PDA?" Her blue eyes widened.

"Pasta Date with Addison." He told her with a wink. There was a knock on his trailer door for him to come to the set. "Thanks again for taking the time to find me clothes that don't make me look like some run of the mill action star. Most that have handed me outfits in the past did not even try to see what works best. They just threw a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt at me."

Addison smiled proudly. "You're the first person I've gotten to dress since I graduated. I can't have you look like everybody else."

"I'm you're first? But you act like you've done this before!" His smile glowed as he encouraged her on his way out. "See you soon, Addison."

She gathered the discarded clothes and followed him out. The director's assistant complimented him on how he looked for a scene. Matt gave Addison all the credit without realizing she was a few steps behind him. She wanted to drop the clothes and hug him for being so sweet.

"And I thought I loved him before I met him." She said to herself. "

______________

Four years later...

"Matt, will you hurry up! I've got three other people to dress." Addison reached over and quickly began to unbutton the packet of buttons on his pants.

"Sorry. I've never worn period clothing before and am having trouble figuring it out." He mumbled while pulling a shirt over his head.

She shook her head while pulling his pants down.

"Addison!" He ripped the shirt off. His hair was sticking out at odd angles. "Could you wait a minute and let me do that?"

"I've seen you in your underwear before." She muttered. "We've been friends like forever. I promise not to ogle you."

Matt squirmed at her hands helping him undress. This was the only part he hated about working with her. He knew one day his body was going to betray how he felt about her. Removing his pants was something she didn't need to do unless she planned on changing their relationship status.

Addison gathered the clothing and grinned at the blush covering his cheeks. He is such a sweetheart. He is still so modest after all this time. She loved working with him. He made the days so much more fun.

"I'll be back to help you dress for the next scene." She promised, leaving before he had a chance to tell her that wasn't necessary.

He groaned and collapsed face down on the couch in his trailer. Doing a historical romance was more challenging than he anticipated. Thomas was teaching him so much about the depth of subtly in acting. Holly had written a screenplay he found interesting. Addison had created costumes that were already garnering nominations. He loved the fact that he was working with both actors and behind the scenes people that were his true friends.

But Addison was also a little something more. She just didn't know it yet. His crush had grown over the years to love. Needing her assistance more so than usual to dress in these elaborate military outfits was going to end up ruining their friendship. He needed to confess his feelings and be done with it.

Addison walked in on Victoria going through some lines with Holly. She eyed the glittering ice blue silk ballgown and nodded in approval. Everything was where it was supposed to be.

"Need anything?" She asked.

Victoria grimaced. "Will you check on Chadley. He thought a cravat was a type of carrot. His disappointment will ruin the next scene."

Addison choked back a laugh as she backed out of the dressing room. Holly caught up with her a few moments later.

"I see Matt's clothes clutched lovingly in your arms." Holly teased. "Finally got him naked, huh?"

"Holly!" Addison hissed checking to see if anyone overheard her.

"Please. We all know." Holly rolled her eyes. "You started crushing on him when you crossed the California state line."

"I did not." Addison protested. It happened...huh. It was when she came here for college.

"You did too." Holly corrected. "And if I were a lady who bets, I would bet a large amount that you're feelings would not be unwelcomed."

Addison was as red as the jacket she held. "Look, my feelings for Matt are perfectly fine in the friend zone."

"Really?" Holly narrowed her eyes. "So it wouldn't bother you that Victoria ran into Pippa Majors and she plans on stopping by the set later for a visit?"

"Why would that bother me?" Addison asked.

"Because she specifically asked if Matt would be here."

"Oh." Addison's shoulders drooped.

"Good thing you don't mind her coming. I think she is going to ask him to be her plus one to Marcus's wedding." Holly studied her friend closely for a spark of temper. She hoped her prodding would spur her into action.

"I...I gotta check on Chadley." Addison hurried away.

____________

A few hours later...

"Hey Holly. Have you seen Addison?" Matt asked. "She promised to help me dress for the next scene."

"She must still be with Chadley." Holly glanced at the handsome actor taking a sip of water. "I think they make a cute couple."

Matt spit his water out. He coughed, apologized to the poor grip he spit on, and cleared his throat. "What?"

"I think Chadley has a crush on her." Holly continued innocently. "Addison thinks he is a sweetheart. I think they could possibly be together if I encouraged them both."

Matt was adamantly shaking his head. "No. They would not be good together."

"Why not?" Holly ignored the look Thomas gave her as he overheard their conversation. "They are both genuinely kind. Chadley might be lacking in the brains department but he is a very handsome guy. Addison is as sweet as she is cute. I can't think of two people more meant to be together."

Matt paled. He caught a glimpse of Addison squeezing Chadley's hand as she left his trailer. Whatever he said had her smiling and waving goodbye.

Holly followed his gaze and prodded some more. "Can you think of a better match for her?"

"I..." Matt's usual pleasant expression hardened as he walked off without another word spoken.

"Nicely done." Thomas remarked as he passed his notes to her.

Holly grinned. "I thought so too."

______________

Another hour after that...

Matt paced his trailer. Thoughts and possible outcomes flickered through his mind, angering him. "Come in." He barked.

Addison paused in the doorway. "You okay?"

"Yes." He snapped.

Her crystal clear blue eyes reflected the shock and slight hurt she felt over his tone. "I'll just leave these here."

"Addison, wait." Matt rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you." He sat down, motioning for her to join him

She came back in and gently rubbed his back. "What's wrong?"

Matt swallowed nervously. "I'm in love."

NO!!! NOT PIPPA! Her brain screamed. "Oh? That's...that's great."

"No it isn't." Matt muttered. "She doesn't feel the same."

"I bet she does." Addison rolled her eyes. That jerk Pippa is probably playing hard to get.

"She likes Chadley." His eyes focused on her face.

"Who would ever choose Chadley over you?" Addison covered her mouth at her own outburst. "Don't get me wrong he is a sweetie, but seriously...I mean, have you met you? You're literally the best guy ever. You got it all. The body, the heart, the brains...you're the whole package, Matt. If Pippa can't see that, then she is a bigger idiot than I thought."

Matt nearly whooped with relief until she brought up Pippa. "What does Pippa have to do with anything?"

"Aren't you taking her to Marcus's wedding?" Her puzzeled expression caused his own.

"No. I had planned on asking you to go with me, but I didn't want to interrupt the time you could be spending with Chadley." His puzzlement grew as her brow furrowed even more.

"Why would I do that? Don't get me wrong I like him as a friend, but he is better in small doses." Addison slowly smiled. "You were going to ask me to be your date for the wedding?"

Matt's sheepish grin appeared. "Yeah. Would you like to go with me?"

"Yes, I would." She wondered if he realized how close he was to her now.

Matt leaned even nearer. "Would you like to have dinner with me after the shoot?"

She nodded, lowering her eyes to his lips.

They barely brushed her cheek. Matt's arms wrapped around her as he ever so slowly kissed her.

Her touch was just as gentle. Her mind though...well...

"GET SOME GIRL!"

#rcdaw #rcd appreciation week #rcd ma #rcd addison #Matt x Addison

8 notes · View notes

lilacmoon83 · 4 years

Text

A Darker Curse

Also on fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 15: Heartless

City Hall was buzzing that evening when Neal arrived. A few people eyed him wearily, as it had spread pretty quickly that he was the son of Mr. Gold. Despite not having magic and not being physically imposing in this land, his father had still managed to strike a chord of fear in most. But even he had to reluctantly admit now that Cora was the greater evil. After hearing what the woman had put Emma's parents through, that had become painfully clear.

He looked around the room and saw August at a table with his old school typewriter. He was already working on the write up for the paper and probably ready to boast Regina and Mary's victory over Cora.

Next, his eyes naturally found Emma and he felt his heart skip a beat. It was still sinking in that he was a father himself now and he couldn't help but think about how beautiful he still thought she was, especially as she held their child. He watched her for a few moments and approached, as he noticed that she seemed nervous and kept checking her phone.

"Hey…" he greeted.

"Oh hey...I didn't know if you'd be here," she replied. He shrugged.

"I am going to be living here, so I thought I better come have my say in the town's future leadership," he said. She looked at him and he could tell she was surprised by his answer.

"So...you are going to stay," she said.

"Unless that bothers you...but yeah, I have a kid now," he replied. She nodded curtly and checked her phone again, just as she saw Regina.

"Regina...have you seen my Mom?" the blonde asked. The brunette's eyes widened.

"No...she's not here yet?" Regina asked, clearly alarmed by that.

"Dammit...no," Emma fretted.

"Something's wrong…" she feared and Regina glanced at her Mother, who stood near the podium wearing a smug smirk. She marched up to her and Emma watched, before quickly handing the baby to Neal.

"Can you watch him?" she asked. He nodded.

"Of course...go. Find your Mom," he urged.

"What have you done?" Regina demanded to know and Cora feigned an innocent look, which naturally looked completely foreign on the woman's face.

"I'm not sure what you mean, darling," Cora cooed sweetly.

"Oh yes you do...where is Snow?" she growled.

"How would I know? I've been preparing for the debate all day. Really Regina...you should keep better tabs on your employees," Cora chided smugly.

"Where is my mother, you psychotic witch?" Emma hissed and the other woman couldn't help but grin deviously.

"With any luck on my part...suffering a well deserved demise," she whispered in the blonde's ear. Emma's eyes widened and she backed away.

"If she's hurt...there will be no where you can hide. I'll make sure you pay if you've hurt her," Emma said, as she choked back tears and tried to calm down. Freaking out was not going to help find her mother and she fumbled for her phone, as it rang. She was disappointed to see that it wasn't her mother, but rather David, which gave her hope.

"David?" she answered.

"Emma...have you seen your mother?" he asked, with a frantic edge in his voice.

"No...and I'm worried. She's not answering and she should have been here long ago," she answered.

"Damn...then I'm not crazy," she heard him mutter.

"David...what are you talking about?" she asked.

"It's hard to explain and sounds nuts...but I just got this really bad feeling that something's wrong. I think she's in trouble...I don't know how I know that. But I'm going to find her," he replied and she felt like crying at that. Her mother was always telling her that her father was very good at finding her and it seemed at this point that the curse was not going to stop him from doing so once again.

"I'm coming to look too. Find her David," she pleaded.

"I will Emma...I promise," he said, as the line went dead and she put her phone back in her pocket.

"I'm coming with you," Neal said.

"Me too," Regina insisted.

"No...please stay with little David," she pleaded and he nodded reluctantly.

"And you need to stay too. You need to tell the people exactly what type of person is running this town. You're the only one that can oust her from the Mayor's office," Emma reminded and Regina reluctantly acquiesced.

"But I am going with you," August said, as he was nearly panicked like she was. She nodded at that, as the two siblings set out to find her. Regina glared at her mother, as she took to the podium. She'd make some speech about how she was the best choice, but Regina was ready to pull out all the stops. Once she stepped onto that podium, she was going to rip her mother to shreds and by this time tomorrow, she'd be sitting in the Mayor's office.

~*~

Snow heard voices, as she slowly came around and there was a whirring noise in her ears. She was wet too and idly made the connection that the whirring noise was rain. The voices slowly got clearer and it all came crashing back to her. Her head was killing her, but she knew she had to get away or things were going to end very badly for her. She knew Cora was getting desperate and probably had instructed her goons to make sure she didn't survive the night. But she'd be damned if she was going to go down without a fight.

"Keep moving...there's a cliff up here. It will be clean and swift," she heard Sidney say and knew it was now or never. Rearing back, she knocked her head into the man's nose that was carrying her. He roared in pain and dropped her to the ground. She rolled away and groaned painfully, as she tried to get to her feet. Her vision was slightly blurry and she stumbled back into a tree, as Sidney and the other man approached.

"Bad move, Ms. Swan…" Sidney chided, as she saw the larger man draw a knife. Thinking quickly, she picked up her foot and smashed it into his groin, before she took off running.

"Dammit...get up!" Sidney cried.

"Find her!" he ordered, as he started running after her. Snow whimpered, as she ran clumsily through the woods, but could not get her bearings. Probably because of the bump on her forehead and the crusty, dried blood on the side of her face that she could feel. She steadied herself on a tree and hid behind it, as they ran past. She felt a bit faint, but knew she had to continue on and kept going. Unfortunately, she slipped and slid down a hill. She screamed, as she rolled off a cliff side and held onto the side for dear life. Rain poured down so heavily that she couldn't see anything and she feared they had heard her scream. They would probably be back soon to help her off this cliff and she thought about her children and David.

"I love my family...we're so close to being together. It can't end like this," she cried, as a few tears mixed with the rain pouring down her face.

"Mary Margaret!" she heard a voice call in the distance and her heart almost stopped.

Could it be? Or was she simply hearing things out of wishful thinking.

"Mary Margaret!" she heard again and this time it was closer.

"David…" she whimpered, as she started to cry again, but this time in joy.

"David!" she called, as she squinted to see his face, as he peered over the edge of the cliff side. She felt his strong hands grab her arms and pull her up. She collapsed against him, crying in relief, as he held her.

"I've got you," he promised.

"You found me…" she sobbed.

"Yeah...I'd say I got lucky, but at this point...there's definitely more to this than luck," he mentioned, as he looked around.

"Come on...we need to get out of this storm. I think I saw a cave under the Toll Bridge. We're not far from there," he said, as she felt him lift her into his arms and trudge down the hillside.

~*~

"Together, we can continue to make Storybrooke a safe and prosperous place. But only if you continue to support me as your Mayor. I know you'll all make the right choice when you go the ballot box tonight. Voting for me means a safe and well ordered Storybrooke, without the scandal of interlopers that come into our good town to stir things up and ruin families," Cora said, taking a direct jab at Regina's running mate, for her and David were still the big gossip around town. But she hoped that idle gossip wasn't enough to overrule the good sense of the people. They had an opportunity to free themselves from her mother and she was going to make sure they blatantly knew it.

"My opponent will have you think that I serve my own interests, but I assure you, like I always have her, that I have only done what is best for the people of Storybrooke. Just as I have her best interest at heart, even when she doesn't think I do," Cora added.

"Hard to have my best interest at heart when you don't even have one in your chest," Regina said under her breath.

"So please...ensure a stable future for our town by voting for me," she concluded, as she stepped down from the podium.

"Thank you, Mayor Mills," Archie said, as he motioned to Regina.

"And now our second candidate. Deputy Mayor, Regina Mills," he announced, as she stepped to the podium.

"Thank you, Dr. Hopper," she said, as she saw Ethan nod to her with encouragement from the audience.

"My mother spoke in great detail about the stability and safety she has brought to Storybrooke. But there is a very big difference between a stable town and stagnant town. And I think many can agree that Storybrooke is stagnant," she said.

"Change can be scary, but often times, it can be a very good kind of scary. My mother would have you believe it is, but that's because it is she who is scared of change," Regina continued.

"She and her cronies are scared to lose their control over the rest of us. They are scared that the status quo will change," she added.

"But it's time for a change. It's time they're finally held accountable for the things they do to people in this town," Regina said.

"Because right now, I believe my running mate may be in danger, because she had the courage to stand up to them," she revealed, causing commotion to ripple through the chamber.

"And right now, David Nolan is looking for a woman that is like a sister to me and I'm going to join him. I encourage you to join the search for them after you've cast your vote," Regina said.

"A vote for my mother means more of the same tyranny and a vote for me means that their money and power do not continue to rule us. A vote for me means we take back this town," she announced, eliciting cheers from several, as she stormed out. Cora watched in horror, as many of the townspeople stood up.

"Where are you all going?" she questioned.

"We're going to help find David and Mary Margaret," Archie announced.

"But don't worry...we'll make sure to cast our votes on the way out," Ruby added, as she and Granny followed the therapist, while many others joined them. Cora looked livid, especially when Sidney failed to answer her phone calls. But it was likely that the storm was interfering with cell signals.

"Kathryn…" Cora hissed, as she stomped toward the younger woman.

"I thought we discussed you getting David back. Why isn't he here with you?" she questioned.

"I...I tried, Madam Mayor, but he refused. It doesn't seem to matter what I do! I even got him fired!" Kathryn cried, as she crumbled under Cora's glare.

"But he still wouldn't do what I told him and all he could think about was her," she said.

"He doesn't look at me the way he looks at Mary Margaret...he never has," she lamented.

"Stop your whining!" Cora snapped.

"Need I remind you of what happens if I lose this election?" she questioned and Kathryn looked truly terrified.

"All your family's dirty little secrets will come out so if you want to stop this...then you'll get out there and look for them too. Make sure they don't come home," Cora said.

"You...you want me to go out there?" Kathryn squeaked and Cora's blood boiled. With the curse weakening, so was Kathryn Nolan's hard edge. She had devolved into a simpering mess in the last few days, compared to the woman Cora had forged in her own image that had once kept Prince Charming on a short, suffocating leash. She needed to strengthen her hold on the young woman, but that required a potion that was in her vault at the moment.

"Let's go," she said, as she started toward the exit. But Graham blocked the way.

"I'm sorry everyone...but I can't let anyone else leave until the storm lets up. It's gotten too dangerous and there's flash flooding everywhere," the Sheriff warned. Cora cursed inwardly and could only hope that Snow White and her stupid prince met a grim end in this storm.

~*~

David struggled through the almost knee deep mud, but managed to make it to the Toll Bridge. The storm had gotten worse and he hurried into the cave he had discovered beneath the bridge earlier. It was semi-dry and he gently put Mary down once they were inside the mouth of the cave.

"Mary Margaret?" he said, as he roused her.

"Mmm...Charming…" she murmured, as her head was clouded and she slowly opened her eyes. She realized where she was and her eyes widened.

"David…" she uttered, now realizing her slip, but if made notice of it, he wasn't letting on.

"Hey...we should probably put a little pressure on that bump," he said, as he tore a piece of fabric from his flannel shirt and used the wetness to wipe the blood off her face.

"You found me…" she said.

"Yeah...you're probably going to think I'm crazy, but I got this really bad feeling that you were in trouble," he told her. She smiled up at him with a dreamy stare.

"Not crazy…" she said and he smiled gently at her.

"What happened?" he asked in concern.

"Mmm...I was running errands for Regina and I stopped at the diner for some cocoa. I was on my way to the shelter to surprise you when I got jumped by Sidney Glass and a couple of guys. Hired muscle, I'm sure," she explained.

"Cora…" he said. She nodded.

"Probably...she hates me with a passion," she replied. He sighed and kissed her forehead.

"Thankfully, I got away from them. I don't think they planned for me to live to see another day," she added.

"God...I can't even think about losing you. If only I had found you sooner...I might have if Kathryn hadn't been bothering me," he lamented.

"You found me just in time," she assured.

"So Kathryn showed up at the shelter?" she asked curiously.

"Just to harass me. She managed to get the vet to fire me and then hoped it would make me come back to her," he replied.

"Oh David...I'm so sorry," she said.

"It's okay...I liked that job, but I love you more. I'm never going back to her," he promised, as they heard the storm raging outside.

"Wow...it's not letting up," she mentioned.

"Maybe we should move further into the cave," he suggested, as he stood up and then helped her to her feet. With his arm around her waist and her arm draped over his shoulder, they managed to make it further into the cave.

"I wonder how deep this thing goes," he wondered out loud.

"David...what is that?" she asked, as she looked ahead and saw a green glow coming from further into the cave.

"I...I don't know. Maybe we should find out though," he said, as they made their way toward the light and it kept getting brighter as they did. They followed the labyrinth of corridors, until they finally found the source in a wide cavern.

"It's…" Snow started to say.

"A tree sapling?" he asked in confusion. Snow cocked her head to the side, wondering what it could mean. It was glowing, which definitely meant magic. She just wasn't sure if was light or dark magic. As they got closer though, the magic emanating from it gave her a warm feeling and then she knew. She had felt light magic like this before...when Charming had kissed her to break the sleeping curse.

"Will you touch it with me?" she asked.

"Touch it?" he asked in confusion.

"Trust me," she requested and he shrugged, as they both touched the sapling. Memories of their life together assaulted Snow's subconscious, but there was one memory she saw that she had no idea he shared. She had suspected something for a while now from the moment she saw Wilby and now that it was confirmed, she felt like crying with joy. That day she was trapped by the woodcutter...he had been her rescuer. They had met before they even knew it and created this sapling as a symbol of the burgeoning true love they would go on to discover.

They pulled their hands away and David stumbled back, as his brain processed everything he had just seen. It was still running through his mind like a movie and he passed out.

"David!" Snow cried, as she knelt beside him and she began to panic.

"No...no...no...don't you dare do this! I just found you and I'm not letting you go again," she cried. What if all the memories were too overwhelming and all the progress he had made was reverted? Or worse...what if he woke up and had no idea who she was again.

"David please…" she pleaded, as she tried one last thing and planted a hard kiss on his lips.

"You can do this to me again...I can't survive losing you again," she cried, as his eyes snapped open and he stared up at her.

"David…" she squeaked and then started to cry, fearing the worst.

"Snow…" he croaked and her breath caught in her throat.

"What?" she asked, thinking her mind might be playing tricks on her.

"Snow...you found me…" he said and she cried out in surprise.

"Charming?!" she exclaimed. He smiled gently and sat up.

"I remember...I remember everything," he assured, as she threw her arms around him and started crying against his shoulder.

"Oh Snow…" he whispered, as he held her in his arms and then gently pulled back so he could look at her. He cupped her face in his hands and smiled at her.

"I've dreamt of this moment for so long…" she said.

"What you must have gone through…" he said, as kissed her tenderly and she mewled into his kiss. She had kissed him as cursed David, but she instantly felt the difference. While kissing David had been wonderful in itself, she immediately felt the difference. There was no shyness or uncertainty in his kiss. This was her husband and she let herself become lost in him until the need for air finally forced them apart.

"Emma!" he exclaimed and she giggled at the look of wonder on his face.

"She amazing…" he said in awe and she nodded, as she caressed his face.

"She is…" she agreed.

"And little David! I'm a grandfather!" he realized and she laughed harder at that.

"You are...youngest, sexiest grandpa ever," she said coyly.

"I...I got a little bit older," she muttered and he responded by cupping her face in his hands again.

"You are still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he assured. She sniffed.

"I only got through being separated from you, because I thought you were safe. But you weren't," she whimpered.

"Hey...that's not your fault. We both went through some really rough times, but we're going to get through it together," he assured. She nodded.

"But first...we need to get out of here," she said.

"It doesn't sound like it's letting up at all," he replied.

"It's okay...I know Emma is looking for us. And she'll find us...because she's just like you," she said fondly. He smiled at her and kissed her again.

"You're right...everything's going to be okay now," he said, as kissed her again. They would ride out this storm and they would do it together. And they knew their daughter would find them...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Emma Swan #august w. booth #AU #CORA cast the curse #evil Cora #warning #mentions of abuse #nothing graphic #eventual Swanfire #romance #angst #adventure #familia #a darker curse

5 notes · View notes

justanoutlawfic · 6 years

Note

Dragon Queen 22!

Two miserable people meeting at a wedding AU

Also on AO3

Regina sat at the bar, adjusting the uncomfortable bridesmaiddress on her body. Why had she agreed to this? Oh, right, her mother. Reginanever would’ve heard the end of it if she had told Zelena “no” to being abridesmaid. Despite the fact that she and her sister hadn’t been that close,ever and that Zelena had only asked her out of obligation, she was forced towear a hideous green dress with an obnoxious fake flower at the neckline thatwas digging her way into her skin.

“Martini, dry,” she told the bartender, who nodded andshuffled about to make it for her.

“Shouldn’t you be at the bridal party table?”

Regina looked up and found a tall woman standingthere, wearing a grey pantsuit and a derby hat. “I fail to see how that’s anyof your business.”

The woman chuckled and dropped down next to her. “I don’tcare, but something tells me the Bridezilla will.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “If she had it her way, I wouldn’teven be here. Our mother arranged this entire thing, including me being thebridesmaid.”

“Cora Mills is a fierce one.”

“You can say that again.” She thanked the bartenderwhen he set down the drink and sipped it. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Mallantha Sparks, but my friends call me Mal. You’reRegina, right?”

“Yeah, are you a friend of my mother’s? Or Zelena’s?”

“No, I’m on the groom’s side, you can say. I was his lawyerwith his last divorce.”

Regina nearly choked on her drink. “Chad’s beenmarried before?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?”

“Not even sure if he told Zelena.”

“She knows, alright. Why do you think the marriageended?”

Regina raised an eyebrow and looked back at the dancefloor. Zelena was moving to the beat of an Elton John song, Chad gleaming downat her. He was a well-respected doctor, their mother couldn’t be more proud. Howhad she missed the part where her sister had helped destroy his first marriage?

“I helped make sure that his wife didn’t take him tothe cleaners, though in my opinion, it would’ve been well deserved.” Mal sippedthe drink that the bartender had brought her. “He got to me first, though. It’show these things work.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“Makes the wedding a little more bearable to getthrough, huh?”

“Just a bit. So…if you’re his divorce lawyer, what areyou doing here?”

“He and Zelena insisted I come, they said without menone of this would be possible. I’ve never been one to pass up free booze andcake.”

Regina snorted. “It is the one good part of any wedding.”

“You here alone?”

“Yes. You?”

Mal nodded. “Perhaps I won’t have to leave here alone,however.”

Regina slowly grinned and raised her glass.

“To meeting new people.”

Mal rose hers, a smile forming on her face as well. “Tomeeting new people.”

Their glasses clinked and they took sips from them. Injust a few hours time, after Zelena and Chad headed off on their honeymoon,Regina and Mal would be heading off to have some fun of their own.

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

23 notes · View notes

swanqueeneverafter · 6 years

Text

19. The Crocodile, Pt.1

Storybrooke. Present day. Mr. Gold's Pawn Shop. (Mr. Gold is putting a necklace on Belle.) Belle: (Voice breaks:) “It's, um... it's very beautiful. So, what's the occasion?” Mr. Gold: “The occasion is us. We haven't really gotten out much since Storybrooke awakened, so I thought we should see it together.” Belle: (Turns and kisses him:) “Thank you.” Mr. Gold: (Chuckles:) “Don't get your hopes up. The nightlife is extremely limited.” Belle: (Laughs:) “No. That's not what I meant. Thank you for... (Sighs:) for what you're doing, for how you're changing.” (Door bells jingle.) Leroy: “Okay, 'Stiltskin, I want my axe.” Mr. Gold: “I'm sorry, but we're closed.” Leroy: “It's mine. Give it to me.” Mr. Gold: “And yet, still closed.” Leroy: “Just 'cause you possess something don't mean it's yours. Nothing in this shop belongs to you. (To Belle:) And you? How can you be with such a monster? Or maybe you're just another possession, too.” Mr. Gold: “How dare you?! You want your axe? Fine!” (Shoves Leroy against the wall.) Belle: “Rumplestiltskin!” Mr. Gold: “You can have it buried in your chest!” Belle: “Stop! Stop! This isn't you anymore!” Rumplestiltskin: (Turns to her in his old form:) “Oh, it's me, dearie. Always has been, always will be.” (Belle wakes up from a nightmare. She sees that Mr. Gold isn't in bed with her, and she goes to investigate. She heads outside, and sees him practicing magic in the basement.)

Enchanted Forest. Past. (Rumplestiltskin has just arrived home.) Rumplestiltskin: “Milah? Bae? I'm home. Bae. Hey.” Baelfire: “Papa?” Rumplestiltskin: “Where's mum? (Baelfire doesn't answer:) Well, she probably just lost track of time. Grab your cloak. We'll find her.” A tavern somewhere in the Enchanted Forest. (Milah is playing a dice game with some pirates.) Milah: “Ahoy, my three!” Ship Crew: “Ah!” Rumplestiltskin: “Milah. Milah. It's time to go.” Milah: “Good. So go.” Killian Jones: “Who's this?” Milah: “Ah, it's no one. It's just my husband.” Killian: “Oh. Well, he's a tad taller than you described.” Rumplestiltskin: “Please. You have responsibilities.” Milah: “You mean like being a man and fighting in the ogre wars? Other wives became honored widows while I became lashed to the village coward. I needed a break. Run home, Rumple. It's what you're good at.” Baelfire: “Mama?” Rumplestiltskin: “Bae. You were supposed to wait outside, son.” (Milah gets up takes Baelfire home.) Enchanted Forest. Past. Rumplestiltskin and Milah's house. (Rumplestiltskin is sat by the fire as Milah is in bed.) Rumplestiltskin: “You don't really wish I'd died... during the ogre wars, do you?” Milah: “I wish you'd fought. Don't you?” Rumplestiltskin: “Well, I- I'm alive, and I'm here with you, with Bae.” Milah: “This isn't a life, not for me. Why can't we just leave?” Rumplestiltskin: “We... we've talked about that.” Milah: “You don't have to be the village coward. We could start again, go somewhere no one knows us, see... the whole world beyond this village.” Rumplestiltskin: “I know this wasn't the life you wanted, but it- it can be good here. At least try, if not for me, then... for Bae.” Milah: (Whispers:) “Okay. I'll try.”

Storybrooke. Present day. Mr. Gold's House. (It is morning, and Mr. Gold is in the kitchen. Belle approaches him.) Mr. Gold: “Hey.” Belle: “Hey. What are you doing?” Mr. Gold: “I was, uh, gonna make you breakfast.” Belle: “No. In... in the basement. I saw you practicing magic.” Mr. Gold: “Want some breakfast?” Belle: “No, we need to talk about this.” Mr. Gold: “It was just a couple of spells. Nothing to be concerned about.” Belle: “Okay, then be honest with me. Why did you bring magic here?” Mr. Gold: “I've told you. Magic is power.” Belle: “Why do you need it? Tell me. (Gold stays silent:) You don't need power, Rumple. You need courage... to let me in.” The Enchanted Forest. Past. (A woman knocks on Rumplestiltskin's door and he answers it.) Village Woman: “Rumplestiltskin, you need to get to the docks now.” Rumplestiltskin: “The docks? Why?” Village Woman: “The men who came into port last week... they've taken Milah. They're setting sail. You must hurry.” The Enchanted Forest docks. (Rumplestiltskin is hobbling towards the Jolly Roger. He climbs the stairs to get on the ship and falls down on the deck.) Rumplestiltskin: “Uhh!” Ship Crew Member: “On your feet for the Captain.” (One of the crew members hauls Rumplestiltskin to his feet and thrusts his walking stick at him.) Rumplestiltskin: “I- I remember you, fr- from the bar.” Killian Jones: “It's always nice to make an impression. Where are my manners? We haven't been formally introduced. Killian Jones. Now what are you doing aboard my ship?” Rumplestiltskin: “W- well you have my wife.” Killian Jones: “I've had many a man's wife.” Rumplestiltskin: “No, you... you see, we... we have a son, and he needs his mother.” Killian Jones: “And see, I have a ship full of men who need... companionship.” Ship Crew: “Ah!” Rumplestiltskin: “I- I'm begging you. Please let her go.” Killian Jones: “I'm not much for bartering. That said, I do consider myself an honorable man, a man with a code. So... if you truly want your wife back (Throws a sword in front of Rumplestiltskin:) all you have to do is take her. Never been in a duel before, I take it? Well, it's quite simple, really. The pointy end goes into the other man. Go on. Pick it up. (Rumplestiltskin does nothing:) A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.” Rumplestiltskin: (Voice breaks:) “Please, sir. What am I gonna tell my boy?” Killian Jones: “Try the truth. His father's a coward.”

Storybrooke Mines. Present day. (The dwarves and David Nolan are mining a wall with some pickaxes. Leroy is watching.) Leroy: “Keep swinging, dwarves.” (Ruby enters with some food in a basket.) Ruby: “Did they find any fairy dust yet?” Henry Mills: “No, not yet. But they will, and when they do, we'll figure out a way to get Mary Margaret and my mom back.” Ruby: “I'll be back later with lunch.” (She leaves.) David Nolan: “I hate mine dust. Leroy. If you find anything, I'll be at the sheriff's station.” Leroy: “You taking over as sheriff?” David: “Stepping in until Emma gets back.” The Enchanted Forest. Present. (Mary Margaret, Aurora, Emma, and Mulan are walking back to the safe haven.) Aurora: “I don't know if I can do this. I'm not a very good liar.” Mary Margaret: “Well, it's not really a lie, Aurora. Lancelot did die an honorable death and Cora did escape. All true. Just... leave the particulars to us.” Emma: “There's no reason to cause unnecessary panic amongst your people.” Aurora: “I'm not so sure it's unnecessary...” Mulan: “Wait. The tower. We always have sentries guarding the entrance. (Drawing her sword:) Stay close.” (They run into the camp to find everyone dead.) Emma: “Oh my God.”

Storybrooke. Present day. Granny's Diner. (Ruby places an iced tea in front of Belle.) Belle: “Thank you.” Ruby: “Are you okay? That's your third iced tea this morning. Wouldn't wanna have to call you a cab.” Belle: “No, I... I've never had it iced before. It's- it's delicious.” Ruby: “I haven't seen you in here before.” Belle: “Well, I-, uh, I've been a kept woman until recently.” Ruby: (Sits opposite her:) “Let me guess. Bad breakup?” Belle: “I think I may be headed there.” Ruby: "Do you have a place to stay? Any family here?” Belle: “Uh, I'm- I'm not sure. I'm still looking. But I'm on my own for now.” Ruby: “I could ask Granny about a room here.” Belle: “Really? Thanks. Uh,” Ruby: “Ruby.” Belle: “Belle. What I really need though, is- is a life, a job.” Ruby: “Well, uh, what do you like to do?” Belle: “I- I do love books.” Ruby: “The library. It's been closed forever, but, uh, things are changing now. Maybe they need a librarian.” Enchanted Forest. Past. (Rumplestiltskin, now The Dark One, is in the same tavern that he first met Killian Jones in. A trader approaches him.) Trader: “It really is you. The Dark One, in the flesh. Or whatever that is.” Rumplestiltskin: “You've gone to a lot of trouble to meet me. You better hope I agree it's worth my time.” Trader: “I've heard you've been looking for something, and as luck would have it, I'm a man who trades in hard-to-find objects. (Whispers:) Like a bean. A magic bean that can transport you between worlds.” Rumplestiltskin: “I've been told they no longer exist in this land.” Trader: “Not in this land, no. But the ships that dock here often return from far off lands with treasures they don't always understand.” Rumplestiltskin: “And yet you do.” Trader: “It's my job, as is knowing the rumors of who might pay the highest price for said treasures.” Rumplestiltskin: “And what rumors could they be?” Trader: “That you were once a great coward but that you became The Dark One to overcome that and protect a- a son who you lost despite all-” Rumplestiltskin: (Uses magic to stop the trader from talking:) “It's not nice to spread rumors. The bean! Where is it?” Trader: (Choking:) “I don't have it. But I can get it. I- I swear. (The Dark One releases him:) You haven't heard my price.” Rumplestiltskin: “I spin straw into gold. Price shouldn't be a problem.” Trader: “Oh, I don't want money. I want eternal life.” Rumplestiltskin: (Laughs:) “Only The Dark One has life eternal. Tell you what, my son. What I can do, what about youth? Spin the clock back till you're a little boy again.” Trader: “Close enough. Deal.” Rumplestiltskin: “But remember, you fail to deliver, I spin the clock forward and turn you into dust.” Trader: “Thank you. Thank you.” Server: (Approaches Rumplestiltskin:) “You sure you don't want anything?” Killian Jones: (Enters the tavern:) “Where's my scurvy crew?” Ship Crew: “Ah! Here we be, Cap'n!” Killian Jones: “Where's my beer?” Rumplestiltskin: (To the server:) “You know, I suddenly find myself quite thirsty.” Killian Jones: “Cheers.”

Storybrooke. Present day. (Belle is outside the library and is peaking through a window at the books.) Smee: “Excuse me, miss.” Belle: “You startled me.” Smee: “I- I was just wondering if you had any spare change.” Belle: “Oh, no, sorry. I- I don't have any money.” Smee: “What- what about a friend? Are you meeting anyone here?” Belle: “Uh, no. Why?” Smee: “I just wanted to make sure.” (Grabs Belle.) The Enchanted Forest. Past. (Killian Jones is walking along in an alley with his shipmates. Rumplestiltskin walks by, hidden under a cloak. He bumps into Killian Jones and continues walking.) Killian Jones: “Hey, you! Stop. Even gutter rats have more manners than you just displayed.” Rumplestiltskin: “Oh, I'm so sorry, Sir.” Killian Jones: “Ah. I was wrong. Not a rat at all. More... (He leans in and hits Rumplestiltskin's cup that he is holding, causing it to spill coins all over the ground. Rumplestiltskin kneels down and tries to pick it all up:) more like a crocodile. What's your name, (He pushes Rumplestiltskin over with his foot:) crocodile? (Rumplestiltskin reveals himself and giggles:) You. I remember you.” Rumplestiltskin: “Always nice to make an impression. Where are my manners? We haven't been properly introduced. Rumplestiltskin, or as others know me, The Dark One. Oh! I see my reputation precedes me.” Killian Jones: “It does.” Rumplestiltskin: “Good! That's gonna save us time during the question and answer portion of our game.” Killian Jones: “What is it you want to know?” Rumplestiltskin: “How's Milah, of course?” Killian Jones: “Who?” Rumplestiltskin: “Only too happy to, uh, dig out the memory, but it gets really messy.” Killian Jones: “She's dead. Died a long time ago. What is it you want?” Rumplestiltskin: “We didn't get a chance to finish our duel. (Jones draws his sword:) Ah! Not now. Tomorrow at dawn. I am not a cruel man. Get your affairs in order. Also, you can spend tonight knowing it'll be your last. (Giggles:) Maybe I am cruel. And don't think about trying to escape, because I will find you, and I will gut your entire crew (Italian accent:) like the fish.” The Enchanted Forest. Present. Safe Haven. (The foursome stand amidst the bodies of the dead.) Mulan: “This can't be. Our land, we were protected here, hidden. How did the ogres find us?” Mary Margaret: “Ogres didn't do this.” Mulan: “What?” Mary Margaret: “Cora did. Their hearts... they were ripped out. This was her magic... twisted and evil. We have to stop her.” Mulan: “Too late. She killed them. She killed them all.” Mary Margaret: “We have to stop her before she hurts anyone else.” Emma: “Hey. Hey. Look.” Aurora: “There's someone under there. He's alive.” Captain Hook: “Please.” Aurora: “It's okay.” Captain Hook: “Please help me.” Mary Margaret: “It's okay. You're safe now we won't hurt you.” Captain Hook: “Thank you. Thank you.”

#sq #Swanqueen #swan queen

6 notes · View notes

horsetailcurlers2 · 9 months

Text

i mentioned this in this post i made a while back about how i think regal believer is the most important relationship in OUAT, but i can’t stop thinking about how the thesis of the show is about the sacrifices parents do or do not make for their children.

like think about it: cora sacrificing regina’s safety and happiness for her own ambition, henry senior never being strong enough to protect his daughter until she is too far gone and he dies in the name of her rage, snow and david’s decision to send emma through the wardrobe and how it is so complex because they were giving her her best chance but they were also sending their baby alone to a strange world so that she could one day save them all, emma giving henry up to give him *his* best chance, rumple losing his humanity to gain the power to protect his son only to then lose his son to protect his power, and then committing unspeakable evils to be reunited with him, malcom/pan abandoning his son to stay young and powerful forever, milah leaving her little boy to be raised by a man she did not respect so that she could live her life, jefferson sacrificing his sanity just to see his daughter again, granny trying for years to shield ruby from the truth, snow and david sacrificing maleficents child for the sake of their own, cora abandoning zelena in the woods so she herself could have “her best chance”…… ugh. i could go on and on and on.

and don’t even get me started on regina and henry. first, her trying desperately to hold onto him through any means, then realizing that she can’t have him and sustain the curse at the same time. doing everything in her power to redeem herself in his eyes, even holding back a fundamental part of herself. then when she was going to sacrifice herself to save the town (that was for *him*, not for storybrooke), and then giving him up to make things right and to keep him safe and happy even if it meant him forgetting her forever.

#henry ironically being the catalyst for breaking the curse #it was supposed to be the one thing that made her happy but he ended up being that instead #the three memorable times they use the “best chance” line #cora mills can choke #she would have been a bad mother even if she had her heart #evil isn’t born it’s made #regina mills #ouat #once upon a time #emma swan #snow white ouat #cora mills #henry mills #rumplestiltskin #zelena mills #regal believer

106 notes · View notes

kay-imagines · 7 years

Text

"No Kings in Neverland. Just us."

REQUEST: I was wondering if you could do an ouat Peter Pan imagine where the girl is like, a total badass and has dark magic and that she’s really powerful (not as powerful as Peter tho obviosly) but she’s pretty much just as twisted as him and that’s why they’re together. It can be any setting or scenario you want (smut is ok too) but yeah I just want to see Peter with a girl who is as dark as he is but he stil loves her

First of all, thank you so much!! And secondly, I loveee this idea of a dark as hell power couple. I really hope you like my take on it!! :)

Killian Jones had met many villians across his extended life time.

There was The Crocodile, of course, and Blackbeard, and the particularly manipulative Cora Mills- yet not one of them could compare to the living manifests of pure evil that took the forms of Peter Pan and (Y/N) (L/N).

Peter was the fists of the relationship. He was violence and daggers and blood stained hands- he used pain to make his enemies fold and he relished their screams like they were melodies composed for his own enjoyment. But (Y/N) was different.

She preferred alternative means to break your soul. She played games of the mind and of the heart- her power was not as strong as her partners but she was just as dangerous. She didn’t use weapons but who needs them when words are just as sharp?

They tortured for entertainment- killed for sport. Even now, long after he had escaped the land they both remained a constant in his nightmares. The only nice thing he could possibly think to say about their ruling was that they had each made him into the man he was today. They taught him to be dark and cunning and to have strength. He knew that if he could survive Neverland he could survive anything.

Hook would never have fancied his chances against either of you on your own- but together? You were unstoppable.

Uneasily, he led the Storybrooke search party for Henry through the eerily familiar paths of Neverland. Swords in fists, together they trudge through the shrubbery, parting leaves and twigs with swift blades and scratched hands. The air is hot- the kind of thick, humid heat that makes his neck damp with perspiration and his mouth dry, and occasionally they find themselves halting to a stop for water in order to keep the dizziness away.

Hook was accustomed to the general sunshine of Storybrooke, and had forgotten the constant darkness that seemed to loom over Neverland. Here, in the forest, the sky vanishes completely and only a few fragments of navy remain, like scattered pieces of an impossible jigsaw puzzle. The air is rich with the fragrance of leaves and loam, damp too. Even so many hours after the rain has passed the soil remains wet, slowly releasing its heady fog.

Killian and the family walk mainly in silence, the only sound being the crunch of boots upon leaves and the occasional murmur of doomed conversation. He can’t help but feel guilty- knowing what he knows about Neverland and it’s rulers- to be leading them to what he believed was certain death. The pirate in him urged himself to forget the boy and run, but he knew that there was no going back now.

“I just don’t understand,” Emma Swan wrinkled her nose with confusion. “In the movies Peter and (Y/N) are the good guys.”

Hook almost snorts, and for a split second he’s sure he can hear the tinkling giggle of your laughter, but before his throat can seize with terror the air is quiet once more. “Don’t be fooled- I’ve never met a pair more treacherous,” He shudders as a flood of memories come rushing back to him- your burning eyes and sinister smirks flashing against his skull. “Pan is hands down the nastiest villain I’ve ever had the displeasure to come across. And (Y/N)? She’s just as bloody wicked as he is.”

He could still remember the first time he met you- the day forged in his mind with every detail still intact despite the time that’s passed. It had been his death sentence- and now that he was back on your soil, he knew you would be unable to resist the chance to finish what you started. You both loved to play, after all, and this was to be the most interesting game yet.

~ flashback ~

“So this is what a real pirate ship looks like,” Captain Hook swiftly turns on his heel at the sound of a gentle voice coming from across the deck, and he raises his eyebrow in surprise at the figure he finds suddenly standing there. It’s a girl- he had assumed that there were none in Neverland- and he feels relief flood his veins at the sight of her friendly face, her smile making him forget that looks can be deceiving. This blind trust had been first mistake. “I’ve read about them often, but I haven’t been lucky enough to find one yet. You even have a crew, how adorable!”

“Who are you?” Hook’s ease doesn’t last for very long as he watches you take a small step closer, trailing your hand across the wooden ledge of the ship. With a sly grin you suddenly vanish and shatter into existence again- this time mere centimetres away from his face. He stumbles backwards with shock, realization flooding his features. His men had retreated to the lip of the boat and exchange anxious murmurs concerning your intentions. They had already faced the wrath of Pan and were not prepared to lose yet another crew member.

“I live here,” you purr, amused by the sight before you. It gave you great pleasure to witness the flicker of fear across the mans handsome face, and your pulse quickened with the anticipation of causing more. Boredom had been brewing in your stomach this past century- you longed for a mind to shape between your fingers, for a game where you and Pan won every round. The arrival of the pirates meant you had been granted exactly what you were looking for, and you couldn’t wait to roll the dice. “Shall I show you?”

You press your hand to Hook’s cheek and suddenly the world is melting around him and in it’s place forms the pattern of a dark forest. Before he can flinch away the two of you are standing in a clearing; there’s a lit fire between you and sinister pipe music fills the air. He gasps and twists in a circle, taking in his new surroundings with disbelief. “How did you-”

“Just a little trick of mine,” you giggle, your laughter a chime of tinkling bells. He had never heard a sound so alluring- and that’s what made the glint in your eye so worrying. “I think we may have company,”

There’s a second figure emerging from the leaves of the wilderness- and at the sight of her his breath catches in his throat. She has long, dark locks of hair and ivory skin. A smile that could make him drop to his knees and eyes so deep he could stare for hours. “Milah?” Killian chokes out, his legs weak as he stumbles towards his past love, his hands automatically finding her cheeks. He pores over her face like he would never see her again- he never thought he would. “But you were dead. I watched it happen with me own eyes. I held you in me arms,”

“It takes more than my pathetic husband to kill me,” She whispers, her skin soft against his palms. All logic and reason is lost to Hook- he’s too overjoyed to see the truth, and as he dips his head to pull in his sweetheart for a long waited kiss, his world comes tumbling down at the sound of a boyish laugh. “Now, now darling. Isn’t that enough?” Pans snicker fills his ear and suddenly the landscape of trees are melting into nothingness along with the feel of Milah in his arms. It had all been a cruel vision- a dream (Y/N) had inflicted upon his mind. He had never even left the boat.

A sob wracks his chest and he drops to his knees- all will to be strong and unforgiving for his crew long forgotten. She had shown him everything he ever wanted and ripped it away. The crushing of his heart to dust in Pan’s fist would have been more humane.

“I like to toy with my food,” You smirk, a mouth full of knives, and your hand automatically finds Peter’s as he takes his stance beside you.

This is how it had always been- the two of you against the world. One heart of coal and the other ash, you were the couple that everyone feared.

Peter presses a kiss to your neck, brushing the purplish bruise he had created with his mouth earlier, and smirks against your skin. What the two of you had wasn’t love. Love is pure and selfless- love is a fairytale.

What you had was electric, with lips bruised from kissing, scratches down his back and manic eyes with the laughter to match. What you had could destroy a nation, and you sure as hell planned on it. He had never dreamed of finding one but you truly were his match. His feelings for you were stronger than love; you were his other half. The one person he truly couldn’t live without.

“Quite right,” he agrees, stepping over Hook’s crumpled body with a look of pride at what you had done. “Pet’s are no fun when they’re lifeless.”

#peter pan imagine #once upon a time imagine #ouat imagine #ouat peter pan #robbie kay #ouat peter pan imagine #ouat #once upon a time

204 notes · View notes

momomomma2 · 7 years

Note

"If these people weren't here, I'd be on my knees with your cock in my mouth" Scott/Jaal???

Dirty Talk Prompts (Currently Closed)

“Are such festivities really necessary?” Jaal’s annoyed, huffing the words into Scott’s ear as he sidles up behind him.

Scott swallows back his amusement with another sip of his wine, hiding his grin in the curve of the glass. There’s so many people milling about, talking and laughing and drinking, but he’s in agreement. The message from the quarian ark was great news, letting the Nexus know they were inbound and safe. Everyone had rushed to toast the message, leaders and underlings alike raising glasses in a cheer.

But Scott knows how fleeting ‘safe’ is in Andromeda and can understand Jaal’s annoyance with the premature celebration.

“I thought you’d be happy to celebrate. Aren’t Angara big on parties?”

“Not on nights when they’ve other things on their minds.” Jaal’s hands slide over his hips, fingertips digging in, dragging Scott against his body. “This is the first time you and I have had the chance of privacy that the Nexus offers.”

“Mmmm, did you have something other than a party in mind?” Scott keeps a genial expression on his face, flashing Cora a bright grin when she squints across the room suspiciously at them.

“If these people weren’t here, I’d be on my knees with your cock in my mouth.”

Scott chokes on his swallow of wine, burning in his throat, coughing and waving away the expressions of concern that turn to him. He swallows thickly, blinking back tears, before twisting his head to glare at Jaal’s unrepentant expression.

“You have a kink.”

“For you?” Jaal hums, nuzzling against the side of his face, laughter in every word. “For the sounds you make? For the way you arch under my hands, the way my tongue makes you tremble? Absolutely.”

Scott sets his glass down on a passing tray, turning to grab a fistful of Jaal’s Rofjiin and huff at his satisfied grin.

“Twenty more minutes.”

“Five,” Jaal counters with a purr, thumbs rubbing tantalizing circles into the hollow’s of Scott’s hips.

“Fifteen.”

“Ten, and I’ll let you come across my face.” Jaal’s grin is as wicked as the glint in his eyes. “You rather liked that last time, if I recall correctly.”

Scott shivers, fighting back the rush of arousal at the memories of purple skin streaked with white and a flicker of a tongue licking up what it could reach.

“Ten,” he agrees hoarsely, ignoring Jaal’s victorious laughter.

#dirty talk meme #jaalxryder #jaal ama darav #scott ryder #jaal is totally unrepentant about it #he wants to bang scott not to party #get with the program #bosh---tet #bri answers asks

44 notes · View notes

searchingwardrobes · 6 years

Text

Someone to Watch Over Me: Chapter Five

Summary: Emma Swan first notices the blue eyes watching her from the cracked door of the wardrobe when she’s ten years old. This “Imaginary friend” continues to find her through the years, which leads her on a very unexpected journey.

Rating: T

Words in this chapter: 1,500 +

Read the rest here on

Ao3

Trigger warning for rest of story: attempted rape in chapter two

Emma shoves Henry behind her, raising her hands towards the evil queen. It’s strange, after battling Cora, to fight with her daughter, who looks so . . . normal. She doesn’t look like the black clad witch everyone had told stories about back in the Enchanted Forest. Regina Mills looks like an everyday working mother in her sensible pantsuit and heels. Yet the snarl of pure hatred on her face says otherwise. And then there’s the fireballs. Definitely not normal. But thankfully, Emma Swan Jones left normal a long time ago.

Emma’s magic meets Regina’s, and the fireballs erupt in a shower of bright sparks. Henry is trembling behind her, begging his mother to stop.

“They’ll tell you lies about me, Henry!” Regina cries, tears coursing down her face. “No matter what they say, I love you!”

Henry steps out from behind Emma, and she shouts for him to get back. But the boy tilts his chin in an eerily similar way in defiance to his adoptive mother. “Then change,” he tells her.

Regina glances down at her palms, still crackling with red energy. Then a sinister calm seems to come over her face. She holds her hand out to Henry. “Come home, sweetheart.”

Henry glances between the two women, his face conflicted. “But. Can’t I get to know my mom?”

Rage fills the queen’s face again. “See? She’s trying to take you away from me!”

Emma takes a step forward hesitantly, lowering her hands. “No one said that.”

“But it’s what you’re thinking!” Regina screams. “It’s what your family always does. Ruining my chances for happiness!”

The woman seems broken to the point that Emma almost feels sorry for her, as crazy as that sounds. She still doesn’t like the idea of her son living with the woman, especially after what Jiminy Cricket told her, but this woman is the only mother Henry has ever known until a few hours ago. Watching his birth mother get into a full blown war with the woman could scar him for life. But before Emma can think of a way to get through to the evil queen, her parents come racing up to the playground.

“Emma!” they both shout.

Before Emma can react, Regina flings her arm out, and Snow White and Prince Charming are clawing at their necks and gasping for air. Emma lifts her hands to blast the queen.

“Uh uh uh,” Regina taunts, “I wouldn’t do that savior, or mommy and daddy will have snapped necks.” She turns wickedly to the couple in her choke hold, “Isn’t this my dream come true? The whole Charming family under my heel.”

“Stop!” Henry screams, and Regina turns to him, her eyes wide.

“Henry,” she says to him, “this isn’t what it looks like. I have no choice. They won’t let us be together.”

“I’ll go home with you,” Henry promises, “just stop hurting them.”

Emma isn’t sure what to do, her hands trembling first towards her parents, then Henry. But then Snow White and Prince Charming are released, and they fall their knees, gasping. Before Emma can react, Regina has grabbed hold of Henry, and they’re both gone in a puff of smoke.

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

Henry waits for an hour after his mother tucks him in that night. Every minute feels like an eternity as he watches the numbers flip by on his clock radio. Finally, it’s ten o’clock, and he slips from beneath his covers and pads as quietly as possible across the room to his window. He slides it open slowly, inch by inch, then eases out onto the windowsill. He does the same when he closes the window again and grins as he makes his way slowly down the branches of the tree outside his room. But suddenly the branches are slipping and sliding out of his grasp, wrapping around his arms, legs, and waist. Then he’s being lifted into the sky until he’s hovering right in front of his window where his mother is leaning out.

“Henry, how could you?” Regina asks. “You said you would stay with me.”

Henry struggles against the branches that hold him. “This isn’t fair! I want to spend time with my mom and my grandparents. I even have a stepdad now!”

Regina snaps her fingers, and the branches deposit Henry onto the floor of his room. She hauls Henry up, then deposits him gently on the bed. She sits down next to him. “I noticed your mother is pregnant, Henry. She doesn’t want you. She’s moved on after giving you away. To me.”

Henry shakes his head. “She explained it to me. She was young and alone. My real dad died.”

“Of course she said that, Henry, she’s trying to trick you. She thinks I’m evil, remember? But I’m not.” Regina flicks her hand, and a huge cupcake with pink icing and sprinkles appears in her hand. “See? I have magic, Henry. That doesn’t make me evil. And I can teach you! Together, we can have anything we want.”

“I want to know my real family.”

“No, Henry. I’m your mother. Being with me is what’s best for you.” She lifts the cupcake towards him. “Come on, take a bite!”

“Is it poisoned?”

“Of course not!” Regina chuckles. “Why ever would you think that?”

“You poisoned grandma.”

Regina sighs, flicking her hand again so that the cupcake disappears. “I’m only doing this because I love you, Henry.”

“Keeping me prisoner isn’t love!” Henry cries.

Regina frowns, remembering vines grabbing her right off her horse. She remembers Cora’s manipulations and stifling expectations. “Okay, Henry,” she finally relents, “tomorrow, I’ll take you to see Emma.”

“Oh, thank you, Mom!” Henry exclaims, throwing his arms around her neck. “I can’t wait! Maybe Hook will take us all out on his ship!”

Regina narrows her eyes. “What did you say?”

“Hook. My mom married Captain Hook.”

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

“ . . . and they were just gone!” Emma finishes explaining to Killian. “I failed,” she tells him softly.

Killian shifts closer to where she sits on the edge of the bed. He pushes her hair off her shoulder and trails kisses along her neck. When he reaches her collarbone, he nuzzles his nose against her soft skin. The tension leaves Emma’s body as she sags against him.

“You didn’t fail, love,” he whispers in her ear. “It sounds like Henry is a brave lad. And I don’t think she would hurt him.”

“Not intentionally,” Emma argues turning to face him, “but I worry the damage she’s doing without realizing it.”

She leans against his chest, wrapping her arms around his bare torso, and Killian scoots back against the headboard to make them both more comfortable. He runs his fingers through her hair.

“In the morning, we’ll start anew,” he tells her, planting a kiss to the top of her head. “Try to sleep, okay?”

Emma sighs as she cards her fingers through his chest hair. “Hold me? Until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

But before Emma’s eyes can even flutter closed, there’s a pounding on the door to their room. Emma grumbles as Killian rises to re-buckle his brace and slip back into his black pirate shirt. He snaps in his hook as Emma cinches her bathrobe.

“Whoever the hell that is better not wake up Martha,” she says irritably as she moves quietly through the small living area where Martha sleeps on the pull out sofa.

Without turning on any lights, Emma opens the door, Killian at her elbow. They both squint at the bright hallway light. A man with slightly curly brown hair stands there with his hands on his hips. Pinned to his shirt is a gold star.

Emma narrows her eyes. “Can I help you?” Her eyes flicker to the holster and gun at his hip right before he answers.

“My name is Graham Humbert, and I’m the sheriff here in Storybrooke.”

“Okaaay . . .” Emma says hesitantly, the memory of three dead bodies bleeding out on a floor in Minnesota flitting across her mind.

“I’m here to arrest Captain Killian ‘Hook’ Jones on charges of high treason against the crown and piracy on the high seas.”

“The hell you are!” Emma hisses, keeping her voice down only because Martha is still asleep in the room behind her.

“You deny your husband committed piracy?” Sheriff Humbert asks as he pulls a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

Emma shakes her head irritably. “Well, no, but . . . he’s made up for all of that. By defeating Cora and pushing back the ogres. He has full pardon from the kingdoms of Agrabah, and Arendelle, and –“

“Emma,” Killian says gently, putting his hand on her arm and going to step around her.

She shrugs him off. “No! You’re a hero! They have no right!”

“He has no pardon from Queen Regina,” Sheriff Humbert speaks up, and that really sets Emma off.

“Queen Regina! You gotta be freakin’ kidding me!”

“Emma,” Killian says again, “think of Martha. I’ll go quietly, and we can sort all this out in the morning.”

He steps out into the hall, and Sheriff Graham first removes his hook, then roughly pulls his arms behind his back to clap on the handcuffs. He hands the hook to Emma, which she clutches with a white-knuckled grip.

“I love you,” she tells her husband.

He grins cockily at her. “I know.”

Then he’s being shoved down the hall and outside. His grin falls now that Emma can no longer see him. He didn’t want her to know, but he isn’t entirely sure he’ll live until morning. But he’ll gladly put himself in danger to be sure his girls are safe.

@kmomof4 here's the next chapter!

#cs ff #captain swan #canon divergence #Emma meets Killian earlier #someone to watch over me #chapter five

31 notes · View notes

lamiaward · 7 years

Text

I don't own OUAT

Summary: it is customary for Princesses to be locked away in a tower, and guarded by ‘their’ dragon. It is the way of the nobility, and royalty, to have their daughters ‘find’ their prince this way. It is anything but customary for a princess and her dragon to become friends - and perhaps even something more

It is incredible. She can breathe again, there is no tightness in her chest, no needles burying into her skin whenever she even thinks about her magic. Her hands don't feel frozen- nor does her throat feel raw. Her shoulders tingle, her magic's way to say 'we can fly without pain again'. She is already standing up, her fingers burning with magic when she looks at her princess and-

There are no human words for this. There is just a roar & the oath that she will make Cora Mills pay for -

It's soft, barely there. She crawls towards Regina's slumped body, lifts her in her lap. Her magic is rapidly losing warmth, so she places her hands on Regina's cheeks and breathes slowly in-and-out, careful not to make it too hot. Most humans are too feeble for a dragon's fire. Beneath her fingers, she can feel Regina's skin heat slowly. There's dark blue-purple beneath her closed eyelids. She can hear her breathing- but it's all wrong. Caught prey breathe like this, not her princess.

" M-mal? " she actually has to lean in to hear that.

"Foolish. You exerted yourself too much!".

" You.. Free" she muttered, sounding delirious. Mal pressed her hand against her princesses' skin. She feels cold- colder than even a human should be. But she isn't shivering, she just lays there and is barely anything. Barely breathing, barely moving. She seems hardly aware of Mal pulling her into her lap, throwing her arms around her and allowing her magic to heat her skin - more than she usually allows it to in this form.

Her fire almost erupts when she realizes how feeble her princess magic is. It is usually remiscient of a forest fire, or a chimera - perhaps even of a dragon. Now, it is like a trembling prey or one of the humans that wear those things she has heard called 'crowns' as they cower behind the humans dressed in that silvery stuff.

When Mal presses her hand to the princess' chest, she feels that her pulse is even weaker. She feels her own pulse skip at the realization, growls in the back of her throat. I should not have allowed her to push this far.

She can feel the princess' skin heating against where Mal is pressing her hands, and allowing her magic free reign to attempt to coax the cold out of the too-still woman. But it's not enough. She has to strain to hear breathing and she feels cold herself whenever she realizes how weak the pulse beneath where she is loosely clapsing the woman's wrist is.

Worse, she can feel magic at her back.

Magic that tastes of iron, and ashes. Magic that makes baring her teeth so very easy. We don't have time. She doesn't know what that human (if you can even call that empty, rotten woman that) will do, but she knows she won't be merciful. And Mal is a dragon- they can withstand the worst of torture- but the woman sprawled into her arms is not. She is human -

and for whatever inexplicable reason, she loves the woman with the cruel smile almost as much as she fears her.

Mal does not think that woman is familiar with love, that she has it in her to love this gentle, resilient creature that makes Mal think of humans like creatures that are perhaps more than prey, or enemy. Which is why they need to leave, now.

" Mi cielo. Wake up" she orders, making sure to slip enough magic in her voice that she is compelled to obey. Eyelids flutter, and there is a soft groan but the slumped woman in her lap is not obeying.

She growls softly, her magic jumping back to her and concentrating in her shoulder blades when she smells her enemies getting closer. She glances at the woman in her lap again, then at the window. She would be better off alone, especially when her princess is so weak. Weakling are abandoned; dragons have no need of those too weak to care for themselves. The dependent have no place amongst dragons.

It is a mantra every individual of her species learns, and lives by. Anyone who doesn't are considered weak as well, and receive scorn and derision by the rest of her species scattered amonst all the lands.

Still, for some reason, she scoops the human in her arms and jumps off the bed. She clutches her as close as possible, then runs at the window. The minute she feels sky beneath her feet, she changes.

With Regina in her arms, she flies away

There is a magic force field she crashes through, foolish humans throwing their toys at her, prey she burns and magic that is nothing more than a slight irritation as she brings her princess to something akin to safety. The sound of her wings is comforting, the cold air wonderful, the feeling of finally being free again addictive.

She would like to remain in the air forever, but the fragile creature in her paws is already struggling.

As soon as she thinks she is far enough that they will be safe for a little while, she scourges for a place that will allow her to take care of the human. She debates whether she should remain in her human's territory, or risk entering new one. She more or less dives down immediately when Regina starts coughing and spluttering, her heartrate trippling and her eyes desperately searching for some place to lay the princess down and stop the horrid choking.

Hold on, don't give up. There! Her tail breaks the water behind her, and the fish that jump beneath her would usually already be in her mouth but she hardly pays them attention when she races towards the large cave she has spotted. She changes the moment her feet touch the ground, then runs inside the cave with Regina still in her arms. Only remembering humans do not like to sleep on stone at the last moment, she lifts Regina and quickly transfigures the stone beneath her in the soft material the princess usually sleeps on.

She lays her on it, then pushes her upright. She relaxes when she feels the intense heat beneath her hand, then widens her eyes when Regina splutters and coughs even more. She nearly panicks when her princess' body starts to tremble furiously. She gently wipes away soaked strands.

" Princess? What do you need?"

All she gets is shivering, and incomprehension. The princess might not even recognize her. She repeats herself , not knowing what else to do. But Regina just groans softly, and her eyes close again. Mal prods her. "Don't do that. I am quite certain you shouldn't do that".

Regina's eyes roll and she shivers. Mal glares at her. " Stubborn" she mutters. She presses her hand to where the woman's skin is glistening, beads of sweat slowly gliding down. She is burning up- and Mal is starting to suspect that that is something humans shouldn't do.

Food. She probably needs food. And perhaps- cold? It is a foreign idea, that anyone would ever need to cool down, but Mal has memories of Regina grumpily kicking the blankets off herself and muttering that Mal 'was too warm'. She certainly cannot make Regina hurt worse.

She presses her forehead to Regina's for a moment. " I will be right back" she promises. It is difficult, leaving her princess all weak and vulnerable but she has to. She has to.

Hunting is easier in her true form, so she quickly changes and flies over the water. The silver, finned prey jumping out of the water are hardly her usual, but she can't risk hunting for something bigger, not when her princess is waiting for her to do something. The merciful thing would be to leave her. If she is strong enough she will survive. If she is weak, she need not survive.

It is the dragon way, the right way. But she strangely doesn't want to.

She dives down with open mouth, gathers as much prey in her mouth as possible and races back to the cave. She does not change this time, just bends down and crawls inside. She only changes when she has opened her mouth, the prey inside flopping on the floor . She quickly grabs one of them, cuts of its head and then tears of a piece of flesh.

She is already pushing Regina into a sitting position, and bringing the fish to her mouth, when she remembers the woman does not like her prey raw. With a simple hand gesture, she lights the fish on fire and carefully brings it to-

Regina's eyes finally flicker open and she hisses as she yanks her head back. " Mal!- "

"Ah you are awake. Finally. Now - "

Mal presses closer and catches Regina when she sags. " No- don't do that, come on" she implores, pressing the fish to the princess' lips. "I even got you prey, come on, come on ".

" Hot"

What do you even mean? Mal presses her free hand to a sweaty forehead. " You humans are odd creatures" she mutters. She is not even truly warm. Dragons would need more warmth, not less. She gently lays Regina down again, then walks outside to the water. She stares at it for a moment, then finally kneels. She returns to the cave with a mouthful of salty water.

Regina rolls her head from side to side when Mal spits the water on her. " There" she says, satisfied. She picks up the fish again, crawls on the bed. She is careful not to press down on Regina's motionless legs as she gets on the bed. She keeps the fish between her teeth so that she can pull the princess in her lap again.

" You have to eat . So eat" she orders, pushing the fish against the woman's lips. Regina just groans softly, and presses into Mal. " Too warm" she mutters again. " I already cooled you!" she moves her hands, so that they are no longer holding on to the princess' dress, but instead press against her cheeks. "You are already getting warmer. But that is bad, isn't it?". She doesn't understand it, but she guesses that humans are not supposed to be warm like this.

She presses her nose into Regina's neck as a goodbye, then lays her down again and gets off the bed. She marches outside again, kneels next to the water again. What do humans keep water in? Her face brightens when she remembers Regina holding a cillinder, made of a transparent substance, and drinking from it. She only needs to close her eyes to see it, then holds up her hand.

She carefully moves it into the water as soon as her magic materializes it, checking to see whether it properly traps the water. When she stands in front of Regina with it, she hesitates for a moment. Does she toss it at the princess? Does she slowly pour it on her?

Perhaps she is hot on the inside. Mal remembers how her fire something scorched her slightly, when she was young and still learning. Perhaps it is like that for humans.

She places the cillinder on the ground , so that she can force Regina's body in a sitting position. When she is certain the princess won't fall over, she picks up the cillinder and carefully brings it to parched lips. She knows humans do not value names like her people though, but she still whisper her princess' name like a secret, touches the cillinder once to make the water inside drinkable, and carefully lets the princess take several swallows.

Mal grits her teeth when Regina immediately sags, obviously exhausted.

She is weaker than any hatchling right now. She needs protection. Mal places the cillinder down, waves her hand to transport the prey that is now floating on a small layer of water to the back of the cave. It leaves her with enough room to transform, and curl up.

She doesn't sleep. She listens, to the weak heartbeat and the halted breathing. She stares at the opening of the cave. She debates what more she can do to help her human. But she would never sleep when Regina is vulnerable like this.

Dragons do not require sleep as much as humans seem to. Regina sleeps every time the world darkens, and does not open her eyes before even her weak eyes can detect things. Mal takes naps, or only sleeps when changing starts to become difficult. And even that is not truly necessary: she could be rested by just curling up and closing one eye.

She is not as observant like this as she is when she is 'wide awake' , but she would still be able to detect any enemies that come for her princess.

She doesn't detect any, but around hour three, her princess starts to whimper. She changes quickly, then rushes towards her. She growls in the back of her throat: Regina's face is shining because of all the sweat, her eyes are rolling and she is shivering so much that she nearly falls. Mal only hesitates a second before grabbing her shoulder and roughly shaking her awake.

Even for a human, Regina reacts too slowly.

Her eyes are only half-open, and glassy - absent, even. She can't sit without Mal's help, and still needs to be supported as soon as Mal has helped her into a sitting position. She keeps shivering , but mutters that it is too hot. She doesn't want to drink, but her voice is more of croak whenever she speaks.

Mal finally forces some water in her, then allows Regina to fall asleep again. She slowly lowers herself on the ground, enjoys the comfort of her magic quickly changing her. She usually rests with her tail curled around her, but she curls it around Regina now. She closes her right eye again, keeps the other on the opening of the cave.

No one will steal you from me, tesoro.

#dragon queen #Regina x Maleficent #princess in a tower & her dragon au

23 notes · View notes