#cs fanfics

[the-darkdragonfly]

NEW CHAPTER! A Trick of the Light

Chapter Eleven: Home Winds

Hello lovelies! I think we all owe a HUGE thanks to @donteattheappleshook for making sure I stayed on track for this long overdue chapter ♥️

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“So,” Emma said over a mouthful of toast- would you like some bread with your honey, love?- Hope lying at her feet under the table, happily singing old tavern songs Emma pretended not to hear. “Let me get this straight.” 

The Knights has called a Round Table, Emma snorting into her tea as the paige delivered the request for Killian’s presence- it’s just just such a wonderful use of corporate jargon, that’s all- to discuss the future of the kingdom, and to catch the new king up on anything and everything they felt he needed to know. 

Which was practically everything, much to his chagrin. 

“No one knows where Arthur is.” 

“Correct.” 

“No one knows what happened to Merlin.” 

“Correct.” 

“No one has seen or heard from Lancelot in ‘they can’t remember how long’.” 

“Correct again, love.” 

A small hand appeared beside Killian’s elbow and he leaned down to nip gently at the wiggling fingers, the hand disappeared at the same time as Hope’s manic giggling broke the comfortable quiet from beneath the wooden frame before her small hand reappeared, trying again. Killian smiled and pressed a slice of apple into her waiting palm- what do we say, lovie?- and her voice floated up to them amid the crunching of her treat- t’anks, daddy. 

Emma grinned wickedly at him for a moment and he narrowed his eyes at her- no, Swan, don’t- before she flicked her hair, correcting him as she usually did- Jones- and tucking the inevitable daddy comment away for future yielding.  

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#a trick of the light #a captain swan tale #the darkdragonfly #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #cs fanfics #the ripple effect #i'm back #omg right?

[piinfeathers]

the scars we bare ch2

aaaaand here's part two. if you saw me promise this would be done on tuesday no you didn't <333 thank you to everyone who took the time to read this. it nearly killed me and i loved it

summary: emma swan came to the underworld with one purpose; to rescue the man she loved from hades' grip. and she would do anything, sacrifice everything in order to that happen. when hades offers her a deal, a test of their true love, she takes it. in the end though, the bargain might just take more for them than they have to give. S5B canon divergence

tw: minor moments of gore and torture, also brief mentions of abuse

✨ ch1 | Ao3 link ✨

Hades hadn’t lied about starting from the beginning. The memories they witnessed were, quite literally, some of the earliest moments of their lives. From infancy to childhood, the memories seemed to blur together. At times they watched together, both occupying the same head, witnessing old, long forgotten moments. Other times they were separated, both of them lost in the long, endless tunnel of sound and noise that led to yet another moment in time.

As the memories blurred together, one into the next, it occurred to Killian how similar their childhoods were. Aside from the time and setting, they could almost be confused for the same, miserable adolescence. The same empty bellies, the same too-cold nights, the same edgy fear of the too-large hands that reached out to slap or to hit. And sometimes, in the worst memories, the hands that would reach out and grab. The hands that would pet and coax, almost comforting. But even in the minds of the young children they knew not to trust them. So they ran. And when they couldn’t run, they fought. They bit and screamed and clawed until the large hands learned not to touch so easily.

Through it all, one key difference made itself apparent. The loneliness. Killian had felt small as a child, had felt fear and isolation, but never truly lonely, not when he had Liam. Liam who fought for him, who protected him, who held him through the worst of it. Emma had no one. She floated through her hopeless childhood completely and totally alone. 

At times people would drift in, foster parents who promised to love her, friends who tried to get closer. But in the end, they left. They always left.

Memories of Ingrid and Lily seemed to blur together. The bright hopeful spark that this person, this bond, would be different. That they would choose her and mean it. And when their betrayals hit her, blindsided her defenses, it hardened her. She built walls around her heart so high no one would ever scale them again. Killian ached for her. 

Through the bond he felt her, felt her presence, and tried to reach for her. He felt her hesitation, and imagined himself wrapping his arms around her. The feeling of her stilled, then softened, curling into him.

He’d spent nearly three centuries alone like that. It ate at a person. He couldn’t imagine a life that had known only that aching, hollow loneliness from the very beginning. 

Eventually the memories slowed. They became mundane and repetitive. It felt as if they were watching days pass just for the sake of wasting time. Hades was toying with them, drawing out the memory spell to keep them there longer. Killian pushed against it. 

That’s enough, he thought loudly inside his head. Do you hear me hades? I said that’s enough.

The memories broke apart, dropping them back into the middlemist field. Killian staggered, glaring at the god lounging in the chair. He had a drink now, a bright blue cocktail with a miniature umbrella sticking out from it. He toasted them with it and grinned.

“Enjoying the show?”

“You’ve made your point,” Killian snapped. “We don't need to drag this out.”

Hades' eyes grew sharp, focusing on something behind Killian. “Oh I don't know about that,” he said quietly.

Killian turned and stopped. Emma swayed behind him, her eyes unfocused, her face white. He rushed to her, his hand moving to her face, his hooked arm snaking around her when she faltered and nearly fell. 

“Emma! Emma, look at me.” 

Refusing to take his eyes off her, he snarled back at Hades. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“Just following the rules of our deal. Isn’t that right Emma?” 

Emma groaned, trying to push herself free from Killian's hold, but his arms didn’t move. 

“Killian, it’s ok,” she said with a croak in her voice. “I just need a minute.”

“What is he talking about? What does he mean ‘the rules of your deal?’”

Emma took a long shuddering breath and pulled herself upright, standing taller. Some colour returned to her cheeks and Killian cautiously let his grip on her relax. 

“He told me that in order for him to trust me, to make sure that I would see this through and mean it, I'd have to put some of my magic into it.”

Killian felt dawning horror bleed from his chest and into his lungs. 

“What does that mean?” he asked quietly.

She looked at him. “The memory spell he's using, it’s mine. I’m the one who cast it.”

There was a ringing in Killian’s ears, a shrill, staticky whine that made the world fade away for a moment. Her magic. They were standing inside her spell. He tried to think of how much power a spell of this size would take to keep going, and couldn’t conceive of it. Every moment that passed, ever second they stayed there, she was expending magic at an alarming rate. He could see it now, from the way her hands shook to how her skin looked thin enough to see through. It was devouring her. The magic was drinking her dry, hungry and unstoppable. 

Hades let out a gleeful giggle and clapped his hands. “And there it is! I was wondering when you’d tell him.” 

Killian heard the god of death move, and turned to watch him as he strutted closer. “A bit different when you’re not the dark one hmm? You’ll notice the magic hits just a liiiittle bit harder using light magic instead of all that infinite dark one mojo.”

“Go to hell,” Emma muttered, glancing back at Killian. “I'm ok. I swear I'm ok.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked, not quite able to keep the betrayal from his voice.

She looked at him for a long, heartbreaking moment. Something tragic flashed in her gaze, there and gone in seconds. “Would you have agreed if you knew?”

“No,” he said reflexively. The truth. He wouldn’t have. “But that was my choice to make Emma.”

She nodded “I know.” 

"Can you end it? Call off the magic?"

Her head shook. "Not while I'm under the sleeping curse. As long as I'm asleep the magic keeps going until this is over."

Her words struck him in the chest, robbing the air from his lungs. Of course. This had been Hades' plan all along. To force her to burn herself out. The cruelty of reliving memories was just a bonus.

“Why?” he asked, “just tell me why.”

She frowned, looking up at him. “I wouldn't leave you here. I can't.” 

She was going to kill herself for him. He knew it even before she answered. She’d die down here and he didn’t know how to stop her. 

“You have to go back Emma. You need to figure out a way to call off this spell and you have to go home.”

“I can do this. Killian please-” her voice broke and Killian felt his resolve crumble. “Do you trust me?” she asked after a moment

He smiled even as his heart split in half. “With my life.”

Her answering smile could have lit the entire night sky. “Ok then. See this through with me. We can do this. Together.” 

He wanted to say no. He needed to make her see. Did she even know? Couldn't she feel how much this spell was taking from her? But when she looked at him, when her chin raised and a light started to ignite behind her steady gaze, he knew he couldn’t stop her. Not yet, not now. But soon. Somehow, he would figure out a way to save her from herself.

As if caught in her current, he nodded at her mutely, and another door sprang into being beside them, swinging open and inviting them in. She took his hand again.

“It’ll be ok,” she said, a promise he knew she couldn’t keep. 

When she stepped through he followed her, powerless to do anything but let himself fall down after her.

***

Emma was tired. And pissed. And sore. And so filled with guilt it nearly choked the life out of her. She’d lied to him. Again. He probably wouldn’t forgive her this time. 

She’d live with it. Somehow, even if he walked away from her after this, if she managed to save him? It would be worth it.

They were falling again, she was holding his hand as the magic flowed around them. What he said earlier stuck with her. Hades was playing them. He wanted to drain her and let her die inside the sleeping curse. She realized that much. She needed to figure out a way to move this along. They needed a way out, and fast.

She tried to think, tried to feel for the edges of the magic. It was her spell damn it. If anyone knew a way out it would be her. But how-

She was thrown, full force into another memory before she had a chance to finish her thought.

In this one, Killian was back on the Jolly, in the captain’s quarters. A man with dark blonde curls stood behind the desk, his grin infectious. Emma felt the rush of love and relief at the sight of the man’s face. Liam. This must be Liam. She should’ve known from the smile. It was almost a twin to Killian’s.

“What now brother?” Killian asked.

“We reveal our king’s cowardice,” Liam announced, marching around the desk, grabbing his jacket.

Emma felt Killian's trust, his complete and total belief in his brother’s ability, and her heart hurt horribly. 

They kept talking, making plans and speaking about the future. Overhead someone called to brace for landing and the ship shook beneath their feet. They grinned at each other and Killian moved to the window, glancing out at the waves, a sense of new found purpose lighting inside him. They were going to expose the king, become heroes. No one else had to die because of his treachery.

“What do you say Liam? Want some company when you report to the admiralty?” Killian grinned as he turned to Liam. Liam who was doubled over in pain. Liam whose face was turning ashen and grey. 

Killian ran to him, grabbing for his brother, trying to pull him up. “No! Liam! Liam please!” he was begging, pleading to anyone who would listen for help

In his arms Liam gurgled, thin veins of inky black creeping across his face like curling spider limbs. Emma held on as Killian’s panic and grief crashed into her all at once, watching the life drain from his brother’s face. Killian’s voice sounded so tragically young when he begged for help, it nearly pulled her under. 

How could one person bear it? she thought again. All this loss. How did he keep moving forward, carrying it all?

She wondered how much more there would be. Who else had he lost? What else had he sacrificed and bartered away? How much more would Hades force her to witness?

None of this was new to her. None of these memories revealed “the man Killian Jones really was.” She already knew damn well who he was, and her heart broke for him. For who he had been and who he was now.

She was done. This was over. This pointless test was ending. Now.

She flared out her power in her mind. She could feel the borders of the spell that trapped them, felt the solid walls of it. She imagined herself reaching out both hands and pushed. Hard.

She felt the bars of her cage start to give and pushed again, harder this time, imagining herself balling her hands into fists and slamming them against the wall again and again. Cracks started to form. The memory she was in faded away, Liam's body and Killian's mind floating back into the past where they belonged. Here, in the present, Emma Swan wrapped herself in her power like armour and pictured the face of the man she loved. 

And punched her fist straight through the spell, shattering it.

***

Killian let the memory pull him where it wanted. He hoped it would be over quickly. He still needed to figure out a way to save Emma from herself. The answer, of course, came to him almost instantly. There was one way to show Emma the man he was. The man he hid from her. He had to show her the truth of his past. She would be horrified, she would leave and it would break whatever was left of the heart she had put back together. But she would be safe. She would go back to her life and she would love again. She would move on.

The thought of it. Of Emma Swan moving on without him, of her loving someone new almost destroyed him. But he knew deep in his bones that he would tear himself apart for her happiness. He had done it before and would do it again.

The memory formed around him as his decision was made. He glanced around. Emma stood alone in a dark back alley. Nervous excitement, and youthful joy crowded her mind. She was happy, so dizzyingly happy it made her head spin.

She was looking at a gold wrist watch, two sizes too big on her wrist and frowned, nerves started to edge their way into her excitement. She reached into her pocket and grabbed her phone. Baelfire- No, Neal’s face, filled her mind. He was late. He was supposed to be there and he was late.

She dialed the phone and held it to her ear, frowning when the automated voice told her the number had been disconnected. The hell? Had he forgotten to pay the damn phone bill again? 

“Damn right there’s an error,” she muttered, starting to dial again.

“Unless he set you up,” a loud voice called from behind her.

She turned and froze at the sight of the gun pointed at her. Icy, numb panic flooded through her, made her heart stop. When the cop told her to put her hands on her head she obeyed robotically, not understanding. Neal? Where was Neal? 

The cop was talking but Emma could barely hear him over the rush in her ears. He was full of shit, she was thinking. He didn’t have anything on her, and she told him as much.

“Possession of stolen goods,” he said, gesturing to the watch with the butt of his gun. “Your boy set you up.”

Emma could only stare. Neal . she thought. Just Neal , over and over. 

“He called in a tip, told us to take a look at the surveillance footage at the train station.” 

The words hit her like a physical blow. He’d betrayed her. She’d loved him, gave him everything she had, and he’d betrayed her. Cold, aching misery filled her head. Killian felt it, letting it wash over him. She was alone again and all he could do was watch.

When the cop turned her, snapped the cuffs of her wrists, a numb fury filled her, clouded her mind and settled deep in her bones until walls made of steel formed around her heart. Never again. She would never let herself believe in love. Love made you stupid. It used you up and softened you until you were helpless. Never again.

Killian let the memories move around him, too tired to fight them. So much hurt filled his head, both his and hers, like old scar tissue, hard and calloused. Had love ever come into her life without strings? Without hurt? The unfairness of it made his blood boil.

When the memory finally stilled, she was in a police station. The officer across from her asked her her age. In a quiet, barely there voice she answered; “Seventeen.”

“Got a kid your age,” the cop said flatly and Emma didn’t know how to respond.

Killian tried to focus on the memory, but everything felt blurry. Time seemed to move too fast and too slow all at once, sliding around him.

“Killian.” 

Inside Emma's mind, he froze. The memory around him came to a grinding halt, nothing moving.

“Killian, we need to go.” 

He turned, no longer in Emma's head, but in his own body, sitting inside her frozen memory. Emma, his Emma, stood in front of him, her hand extended.

“C’mon,” she said, “This way, we need to go before Hades finds us.”

He was on his feet, hand in hers and moving before he could ask any questions. She led him to a door with an exit sign above it and pushed through. Instead of the back street he’d been expecting, Granny’s dinner sat before him.

“Emma what-?"

“Just keep moving,” she snapped, breaking into a run.

They ran together through another door, this one leading them to Mary Margret and David’s loft. He tried to make sense of what he was seeing but Emma was pulling him forward still. They headed through another door into the cabin of the Jolly Roger. Then through another into their bed chambers from Camelot. She led him through door after door, all places he recognized, places they had shared together, until finally they crashed through back into the middlemist field.

It was exactly the same as the field they had started in, only it was night time now. They were dressed as they had been in Camelot, she in her white gown and him in his black coat.

She gasped when they came to a halt, stumbling and nearly falling. He caught her, cradling her head as he brought them both to the grass.

“Emma!” her eyes were closed, her breathing ragged. “Emma, what did you do?”

“Bought-” she took a shaking breath. “Bought us more time.”

She was still for a moment before opening her eyes. “You were right, Hades is toying with us and I'm tired of it.”

She moved to sit up and Killian saw her arms were trembling even as her shoulders straightened and her jaw set with determination.

“I’m done screwing around. We’re going to finish his stupid test, and then we’re going home.”

“Emma,” he dropped his forehead against hers. Cold sweat dampened her skin. “Emma, this has to end. You can’t keep going like this.”

He felt her nod. “Agreed. That’s why we’re only going to important memories, ones that-”

“No more bloody memories!” he bellowed, whipping his head up and gripping her shoulder. “This ends now. Call hades, call whoever. But tell them it’s over before you kill yourself.”

“No.” 

Her one word answer made his teeth grit, fear and anger nearly blinding him. “I won’t sit here and let you die for me Emma.”

She was still for a moment, studying him. “You’ve already died for me three times, Killian. I'm not stopping.”

He reared back as if she’d hit him. “So what? This is payback? Retribution? I die so you have to as well?”

“No!" the colour was back in her face now, her eyes alive and burning. “No this is me doing what I have to to save the man I love. And I will.”

He shook his head, raising to his feet. “No. Emma, no. I'm not worth this. I'm not worth losing your life over.”

She stood, the fine tremor in her limbs gone now, a halo of light magic behind her. “I’m the one who gets to decide that. Killian-” she broke off, then tried again. “Killian, I'm sorry I didn't tell you the whole truth. I should have and I'm sorry. But I am telling you now. I'm seeing this through. Because you’re worth it.”

“Enough!” his shout echoed across the field, shook the grass around their feet. “You want to see what kind of man you’re trying to save? The man you want to die for? Here.”

He thought of it, the worst things he had ever done, every unspeakable act he had ever committed and formed them into one solid, writhing mass in his mind. Inside the heart of the memory spell, the magic grabbed hold of him, greedily drinking in his shame. A door sprang into life between them. 

“Here, walk through here and see.”

She looked at him. One long, horrible silent moment passed as time held its breath. Then, she turned, opened the door and walked through.

***

There was no tunnel of light, no waiting, no falling. The memories started all at once. Killian with a sword in his hand, laughing, blood spraying on his face as he drove the blade through another man. Killian, with his hand wrapped around an insubordinate crew member's throat. The man was begging for mercy but Killian only squeezed tighter, his rage cold and unforgiving. Another man on his knees, pleading with Killian, telling him of the family who needed him, before Killian ran him through.

The memories felt sharp, pointed. They bit into her skin and tore at her, shredding her clothes and ripping her hair. All of it ruthless, unforgiving. At the heart of them, Killian stood with his heart completely black and hardened, a vicious grin on his face. The deadliest pirate of the seas. Revenge and blood and pain all muddied together in a blinding red haze around her.

He wore rings on his fingers, of the men he killed. He remembered all of their faces. In the darkness of his cabin he tortured himself with their memories. Of the feeling of ending their lives. He'd felt nothing while he did it, and yet in the quiet of his own mind he sliced himself open again and again at the sight of the rings. 

A bastard. A miserable, cruel bastard. He loved it. And he hated it. 

Emma sat in the corners of his mind and watched as the centuries moved in a blur. The heart inside Killian's chest turned hard as stone. Slowly, the killings grew less vicious. They became methodical. Practiced. 

Faces blurred past, cursing him, and he welcomed it. He was cursed.

Every part of him grew colder, harder, crueler. He no longer felt any sense of justice from the death around him. He felt nothing, only a bleak, yawning emptiness that he let fester and rot until there was nothing of him left. A living corpse that bayed to the sky for revenge. A man made of decay. 

***

In the field, cradling her body, Killian waited for Emma to awaken. When her eyes slowly fluttered, he braced himself, waiting for the hatred in her eyes, the revulsion. She blinked and stared up at him for a long moment. Then the most horrifically beautiful sight passed through her eyes; forgiveness.

“Killian,” she murmured, her hand reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

He found it hard to breathe. A lump had formed in his chest, growing hard and sharp. 

Emma pushed herself up and wrapped her arms around him. “It's ok,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

He pulled away from her and just stared. “No. Emma no-you can’t-”

“Just shut up,” she said, her eyes closing as she rose to her feet. He followed her, his arms ready to catch her. She sounded so tired and it terrified him. 

“Was that it? Was that supposed to prove something to me?” her eyes opened and the green depths were so clear and understanding it completely shattered him. “It was a good try, pretty rough stuff. But Killian? Did you think I didn't know about your past?”

“I-”

“I know who you are. I know who you were then and I know who you are now.”

“Emma please, don’t do this.”

“I love you Killian. I love the man you are right now. And that’s the man I'm going to save.”

Laughter formed in his chest, rough and malformed, it thrust out of his throat in a harsh burst. 

“You can’t Emma, it’s too late, don’t you see that? Please. You need to let me go,” he looked down at the field of flowers beneath their feet then back up at her. In her white gown, lit by moonlight, she seemed to glow. “This is where it should have ended the first time love. Where it was always meant to end. Please just listen to me. You can’t stay here and die for me. I’m telling you now, I’m not worth your salvation. I’m not worth your life.”

She shook her head in short, frustrated jerks. “And I’m telling you, that you’re wrong.” Her hands lifted, framing his face. Hot, angry tears forming in her eyes, shining like burning stars. “I’m not offering you salvation Killian. You already earned that all on your own. I’m offering you a life, a home. With me.”

He smiled, trying to trace every line of her face, trying to memorize the curve of her cheek and the way her eyes lit with emerald flames. He wanted to burn her memory into his mind, how she looked at this exact moment, full of righteous purpose. His Swan.

“I know you love me Emma. And I know you feel you need to save me. But you can’t. Whatever misplaced guilt that’s keeping you here, please just forget about it. It’s alright,” his hand reached up to touch the ends of her hair, running the strands of them through his fingertips. “It will be alright.”

“Is that what you think?” she jerked free of his hold, took a step back. Whatever exhaustion had clouded her expression before was burned away, replaced with something hot and furious. “That I came all the way down here, let myself get cursed, put myself through all this, because I feel guilty?”

“Emma-”

“Well guess what? I do! I do feel guilty. I got you killed in Camelot and then I brought you back and cursed us all. And you know what? I'd do it again. I’d do this a hundred times over and then a hundred more times because when it comes to you Killian Jones? I'm selfish. Because. You. Are. Mine.”

She punctuated each word in short, clipped bursts that hit him like cannon fire to the chest.

“You’re mine,” she repeated, taking a step towards him, invading his space. “And I’m yours. And I'm not leaving you down here. I'm not leaving you with Hades. Because I love you. I love you so much and I'm bringing you home. We. Are going. Home.”

She was swaying, magic seemed to frame her like a halo. He couldn’t look away. “You told me, back in Storybrooke when I was the dark one, that it didn’t matter what I had done, that you still loved me. Well guess what? It's a two way street. Whatever you’ve done Killian? It doesn’t matter. I love you. I love you as the man you are now. The man who did those things and who still changed. They’re a part of you. And I love every single part.”

Her eyes were burning. He stared at them, transfixed. She had always been like golden sunlight to him. Now she was like a supernova, lighting him on fire. 

“We are going to get through this together. And then you’re going to kiss me, break this stupid sleeping curse, and we’re going to go home.” 

She sounded so certain, he didn’t know what to say. His mouth moved to speak, but nothing seemed to come out. What could he even say? That this wouldn’t work? That if he was right then this whole endeavor was doomed? That while they loved each other, it might not be true love?

“What?” she asked, searching his face. Slowly, a dawning look of realization came over her face. “You don’t think it will work. The kiss.”

“It isn’t just that, Emma-” he swallowed around a lump in throat. “Emma I love you, and I know you love me. But true love is the rarest magic there is. What if we’re wrong?”

“We’re not. I know it. I know what we have, I know it’s true love.”

Her confidence crashed over him like a wave. He wanted to drown in it. He wanted her belief, needed it so badly at that moment. But he just couldn’t.

“You still don’t believe me,” she said, studying him. “Ok then. Here. I’ll show you”

He saw her raise her hand, and dread filled him, knowing what she was about to do. Calling another door now would drain what was left of her magic and probably kill her.

“Emma don't! You can’t-”

Her hand flicked once, a surge of power snaking out like a ribbon of smoke, forming another door. She stood for a beat, then staggered. He cursed as he caught her, his arm circling her as her legs gave out and she fell into him. 

“There,” her voice was barely audible as she jerked her chin toward the newly formed door. “Let's go. You’ll see what I mean.”

Annoyance, terror, and misery surged through him all at once. Her face was too pale, her fingertips cold where they touched his arm. They didn’t have time for this. But as he looked into her face, saw the determination in her eyes even under half closed lids, he knew. There was only one way forward.

“When this is over,” he said carefully, bending down to pick her up even as she huffed a protest. “If by some miracle we make it out, you’re going to bed for two weeks. I'm locking the door and throwing the phones away. Understood?” 

She grumbled even as her head lolled against his chest. “If we get out of this, I'm sleeping for a month.” she muttered.

“Deal.”

Her face brightened with the ghost of a smile as the door opened and he carried her across.

***

The memories started so gently, inviting him now, rather than dragging him. Inside them, he could feel Emma beside him, her presence like a steady heartbeat, guiding him. He held onto her, felt her grip him back, and let them both fall into the past together. 

They were alone, in his cabin below the deck of the Jolly. He was stretched out beside her, asleep on the too small bunk. Through Emma’s eyes, he watched her reach out and brush the fringe of his hair away from his face. Love, a constant, drumming, beating force inside her heart, bloomed up and spilled over her. In the privacy of his room, where no one could see, she let the tears sneak into the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t known it could feel like this. That love could be simple sometimes, that it could be peaceful. Killian made loving him so easy that it had almost blindsided her a few weeks ago when she realized what she had been feeling. She loved him. Of course she loved him.

There were times it nearly overwhelmed her. Even thoughts of him were enough to have the feeling flood though her, washing her in the blinding glow of it. She hadn’t felt love like this, not once in her life. She’d thought she had, thought she knew everything love had to offer and decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. But god. For Killian? She would do anything, give anything for this feeling. She would have loved him for free. She didn’t know how not to.

In the memory, past-Killian’s eyes fluttered. He groaned something in his sleep, turning to her, reaching for her. He was always doing that. She wondered if he knew. She moved her head to rest it on his chest, felt the steady beat of his heart and grounded herself with it. And when she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help the smile that grew on her lips.

The memory blurred, winding around them. Killian felt helpless to stop it. They were at Granny’s, sitting together at a booth. He was making her laugh about something, his thumb tracing circles on her palm. The bright glow of her love for him was like a banking fire, strong and steady. When he turned to look at her, when she saw in his eyes the love he felt for her like an answer to her own, it took her breath away, the love inside her chest growing into an inferno. She knew he loved her. She could feel it in every moment he spent with her. Killian Jones loved her so much it practically shone out from him and bathed her in the warmth of it.

It scared her at times, being loved so strongly. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever loved her this much. She didn’t think anyone ever would again. 

More memories formed, all blurring over one another. They were in the car, Killian had brought her coffee and remembered to include extra sugar packets. She’d kissed him like they were teenagers making out in the backseat. Then they were at the station together, going through paperwork. Emma had shivered and Killian had thrown his coat over her shoulders without looking up, the act almost second nature to him. She thought her heart might have burst open in that moment.

Killian wanted to stay in these moments, wanted to live in them as long as he could. But they were moving him, gently guiding him, and he let himself be pulled along. 

They were on her bed in the loft. She was on top of him, dizzy, joyful relief making her giddy. He was alive. She had watched him die in another realm and here he was. Alive. 

She loved him so much at that moment and it nearly paralyzed her. She had almost lost him without telling him, almost lost her chance to say it out loud, to make it real. And the idea of that terrified her even more. She should say it, now while they were alone, while they had this time. In his eyes she could see he knew, he knew the words she wanted to say, could feel his anticipation. 

He loved her, but he hadn’t told her. He hadn’t needed to of course, she already knew. But still he had held off, waiting for her to make the first move. He knew her better than anyone else, and he knew she would run if he moved too fast. So he waited for her. He was waiting now.

The words were there, ready, waiting to come out. And she couldn’t say them. 

If she told him, it would become something else. It would be out there, in the open, for anyone else to see. In this moment, her love, this perfect, precious feeling, was only theirs. It belonged to only them. And she wanted to protect it, keep it safe. At least for a little while longer.

She would tell him. Soon. She would sit him down and tell him the words and make everything real. But for now? For now all she wanted to do was hold him. To feel the weight and the warmth of him beneath her. To sit in the feeling of his unspoken love for her, just a minute more.

Killian’s heart clenched, hard. Inside the frozen moment he felt Emma, his Emma, press a kiss to his face. Sorry, she thought, and he heard it inside his head. I’m sorry Killian. 

There was nothing for her to be sorry about. She loved him. He adored every bloody inch of her and in return? She loved him back so fiercely he was nearly blown down from the force of it. 

He tried to imagine himself holding her, pulling her close. Was there more? More quiet memories like this? Full of love and endless happiness? He thought he’d like to see them.

But slowly, the memories started to fade, the colours running, the sound quieting. All around them, the light dimmed, and the magic ended.

***

Emma, he thought. Emma. 

She had been right all along. It was true love. How could it not be? How could this feeling be anything less than true love? He woke in the field, his heart full, turning to reach out for her. 

She lay in the grass beside him, unmoving.

For one awful, terrible second, Killian could only stare. Her face was too white, the skin of her eyelids a pale purple, her lips blue. She wasn’t breathing.

“No.” The word came out as a whisper. “Emma no.”

He moved mechanically, his arms jerky, his breathing shallow. No she couldn’t be. He had just been with her, in the memory. She’d been alive and had kissed him, she was-

Her whispered words came to him, unbidden. I’m sorry Killian. What had she been apologizing for? 

“No.” He repeated the word. “No, no, NO, NO!”

He touched her cheek and nearly flinched back. Her skin was frozen. Terror built up in him in a frenzy, a dull whine building in his head. She couldn’t be. She couldn’t.

He pulled her to him, his movements gentle, like she might shatter in his hold. Her head lolled to the side, her arms heavy and dragging, a dead weight at her sides. Something primal beat through his veins, a screaming, gnawing terror that bordered on hysteria. She was not dead. They had not done all this, come this far, for her to die. 

He pressed his ear to her chest and nearly sobbed when he heard a heartbeat. It was sluggish, but it was there. 

“Emma please, you need to wake up.” He cupped her face, rubbing his thumb across the icy chill of her skin, trying to press some colour into it. “I need you to wake up. Please-” his last word broke on a strangled plea, tears filling his vision.

A crack of magic snaked through the air and a door exploded into life several feet away from him. Hades burst through, his face a mask of pure rage. 

“You little-” he hissed. He came to a halt at the edge of the field, his snarl freezing at the sight of Emma in Killian’s arms.

“Well now. Isn’t this something?” A cruel, vicious grin split his face. “This looks almost  familiar doesn’t it? Killian Jones, holding the body of the woman he couldn’t save.”

His words bounced off Killian, unheard. He was too deep inside his own churning panic. She was fading, every second they spent here, she was slipping away. There was only one thing left he could think to do.

“Emma,” he murmured, brushing the hair from her face. “If you can hear me, please. Come back to me.”

He cupped her face and lifted it gently. From behind him he heard Hades shout.

“NO! DON’T YOU DARE-”

Killian pressed his lips to Emma’s. 

And the world exploded.

***

Emma had seen true love magic before. She’d felt it herself when Henry had nearly died in her arms. The raw power of it had taken her breath away. But it was a different feeling altogether to be the one receiving it. To be kissed by her true love. It felt like coming home. It felt like love. It felt like everything. 

Every moment together, every lingering thought, every second she had loved and been loved by Killian Jones crystallized into one perfect, all consuming force of magic that flowed all at once into her body. It ran down her boneless arms, flowing into struggling lungs, and filled her with a warmth and a light so full and strong it felt like being lit from within. And when she started to wake, when the sleeping curse snapped apart and her eyes flew open, she swore she could taste rum and sea salt in the air.

Killian’s face floated in the space above her, his wide eyes shining as his mouth hung open in an expression Emma could only describe as awe.

“Told you,” she said with a smile, her tired eyes still half drooping. “True love’s kiss. Works every time.”

He let out a watery laugh, dropping his forehead to hers. “Aye that you did. Should have known you’d be right.”

She hummed a weary sound of pleasure, even as her exhausted body throbbed like a bad toothache. Her fingers moved up to thread their way through his hair. “Wanna see if we can do it again?”

His breath fanned across her cheek as he huffed out a laugh. “May have delay that love. First,” he glanced up. “I believe we should figure out where exactly we are.” 

Emma frowned as things slowly started to come back into focus. White, glowing light seemed to surround them from everywhere, and when she tried to slowly pull herself up, the floor beneath her felt smooth and warm to the touch. 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she said as she looked around. It almost resembled a hallway. The widest and most expensive hallway she’d ever been in. It had golden marble floors and walls, and impossibly tall, carved column pillars that held up a domed ceiling. It rose so high above them that they had to crane their heads all the way back to see it.

“Another memory?” she asked him.

“Not one of mine.”

“Well it’s not mine, I think I would’ve remembered this place.” she said, trying to squint up at the airy, arched ceiling.

“If you’re both done laying around,” a voice called from behind them. “The way out is over there.”

Emma nearly jumped as Killian's arms tightened around her, both of them quickly turning to look at the woman seated at the far end of the hall who hadn’t been there a moment ago. She sat, half sprawled on a stone bench draped with spotted furs, a massive bow between her bent knees that she was trying to restring. Her copper skin seemed to glow faintly as she pulled the string taught and glanced up at them, clearly annoyed. Emma tried not to tense when she noticed the intense yellow of her eyes, or the way her pupil seemed to lock onto them like a hawk. 

“Well?” she asked again, jerking her chin towards the other end of the hall. “Go on, you can’t stay here forever.”

“Ah, where exactly?” Emma stuttered as Killian helped her to her feet.

The strange woman with the bird eyes waved her hand, dismissing them. “Just ask one of the others, I'm busy here.”

“One of the others…?” Killian murmured, trailing off as they both turned. 

Dozens of bodies suddenly moved around them, all of them with deep skin that held the same faint glow as the woman, and all draped in loose, airy fabrics cinched at the waists. Some slowed to stare at them, their smiles warm but puzzled. Others ignored them completely, pushing past with somewhere else to be.

“So I guess we just,” Emma gestured forward. “Find the exit.” 

“It would appear that way,” Killian said with a frown as his hand found hers, pulling her closer.

“Are they..? I mean do you think we’re in-?”

“I don't think it would be wise to ask that question,” Killian said in a hushed tone, keeping his eyes lowered. “I have a distinct impression that we aren't allowed to stay here very long.”

Emma tried not to stare as they moved past the impossibly beautiful masses, even when she felt the force of their power brushing against her senses. The sudden, overwhelming urge to not draw attention to themselves, took over her, and she tried to shrink. 

“Up there,” she whispered to Killian as she pointed to a spot where the hallway opened up and forked off in two different directions. “Let’s just pick one and hope the way out is somewhere along there.”

He nodded, gripping her hand tighter. As they got closer, they veered left, away from the crowd of people, and down another hallway. This was once smaller than the first, and quieter, but still managed to tower over them. 

“If we get lost here…” Emma said after a moment.

“Let’s hope very hard it doesn’t come to that.” Killian said tightly, pulling her through an arched passageway. “I imagine this isn’t a place they allow you to overstay your welcome.”

They moved into a massive room, the floor curving down towards an enormous raised platform that held a throne made of pulsing, molten gold. On it, a bearded man, nearly three times their size, towered over them. His fingers drummed against the arms of the chair, sending sparks of lightning shooting and dissipating into the air.

“Welcome heroes,” he said, his voice echoing and deep. “I was wondering when you would arrive.”

Killian and Emma stood frozen, awestruck. His eyes were a burning gold and so bright they felt hot on her face. Emma's own eyes watered with the effort of looking directly at them. He smiled at them, his teeth blinding white against the dark bronze of his glowing skin. 

“You have faced your trial with great bravery I see.”

“I-ah thank you. We appreciate that,” she murmured, at a loss for what else to say. “Are you-? I mean is this-?”

He leaned forward, his attention on them scalding, like the heat of the sun beating down on them. Emma nearly felt herself take a step back, but stopped when Killian’s arm curved around her waist, holding her up.

“What Emma means is,” Killian glanced at her, his smile tight, his eyes slightly too wide. “What might we call you?”

The man reached a massive hand up, his fingers stroking the thick, dark curls around his chin. “I have many names, given to me by many people. Although, I believe the one you may know me as, is Zeus.”

“Oh.” Emma said in a whisper, unable to stop herself. Zeus. Of course. He was certainly… bigger than the other gods they’d seen.

“I’ve been watching you two as you embarked on my brother’s trials. That was quite the clever loophole to his test, little Swan,” he said, inclining his head towards her.

“Your brother?” she blinked, glancing at the crackling electricity arcing across his knuckles, then back at his sun lit face. “I can uh- see the resemblance.”

His laughter was a boom of sound that made Emma’s ears ring.

“Hades spends too long below ground,” Zeus said. “I keep telling him he should get out more, put some life back into his cheeks.”

Emma smiled and nodded, suddenly wondering if she was still caught in the dream realm. Was this really happening? Was she making small talk with the king of the literal gods? Beside her, she could feel how tense Killian stood, every line of his body pulled tight.

“You look distressed Killan Jones,” Zeus said. “I would think meeting a god would not affect you so, having met two of my brothers so far.”

Two? When the hell had he met another one? If they made it out of this without being melted into puddles, she would have to ask him about that.

“It’s not that,” Killian said, his voice deceptively calm, a charming smile on his face. “I just worry about overstaying our welcome here, as honoured as we are to be here.”

Zeus leaned back on his throne. He was enjoying this. For the time being at least. 

“You two have fought well today. True heroes, both of you are welcome in my halls.”

“Thank you, that is a great honour indeed,” Killian said, his voice growing slightly sharp. 

Emma could feel panic start to rise in her. They could stay here forever if they weren’t careful, talking in circles with a god who seemed in no hurry to let them leave.

“Is that why we’re here? Because we passed the trial?” she looked at Killian, held his gaze. “Did we win?”

“Well that depends,” Zeus said, his voice like heavy stones rolling down a mountain.

“Depends on what?” she asked cautiously, her tone holding none of the tremors she felt in her limbs.

“Depends on you, hero born of love and magic. Do you believe you have passed the trial? Do you believe you know now what kind of man Killian Jones really is?” 

Emma felt like time held its breath. This was it. This was the sort of thing they wrote legends about wasn’t it? Trials set by the literal gods to test heroes? Everything that happened now rested on her shoulders. No pressure. 

“Like I already told Hades earlier, there wasn’t any need for a test,” she said after a beat. “I already know what kind of man he is. And I was right.”

She turned to look at him and saw he was already facing her, his face filled with love and awe at the sight of her. “Well it’s true,” she said, low enough that only he could hear.

Zeus's laugh was booming. Emma tried not to wince as her ears throbbed. She glanced back at the king of the gods, her eyes going about as high as they dared without looking directly into his molten stare, and landing somewhere on his chin.

“WELL SPOKEN LITTLE SWAN!”

Emma swore her knees almost buckled beneath his praise, but still managed to nod her thanks

“I bear witness to you both. Emma Swan;” his enormous hand swept towards her. “Saviour of magic and of her people. And you Killian Jones; Hero of the Saviour.”

Emma thought she heard all the air shoot out of Killian at once, the title landing squarely on his shoulders and nearly taking him out at the knees. She gave his hand a reassuring pat. It was a good name. She would remember that.

“Thank you Zeus,” she said finally, nodding her head to him. “We’re ah- We’re both honoured.” 

Killian stood still beside her, and she turned to look at him. As if drawn by her attention, he turned away from the king of gods, and leaned into her. His arms rose, circling her waist, pulling her closer. 

“I will tell my brother the trial is over; you’ve both passed.” Emma could hear the grin in his voice. “I’m sure Hades will be most pleased.”

Emma doubted that. She just hoped they were both far the hell away when he heard the news. 

“Are we…I mean. Are we free to go?” she looked up at him, trying not to squint as she met his stare, even when tears started to form in her eyes. “Can we go home now?”

Zeus smiled and it was like watching the sun rising between mountain peaks, the light of it so brilliant and overpowering it left spots in her vision. 

“Of course,” he murmured. Behind him, a passageway opened, forming between the towering columns. White, brilliant light spilled from it, as warm and welcoming as a homecoming. “You have my blessing. Well met heroes.”

They both nodded, moving towards the door with the warmth of his stare on their backs. When they walked to the passage, hands held, Killian turned to her, his face shining. “You did it Swan.”

She gripped him, pulling him to her. “We did it. Now,” she smiled, a heavy mass buried deep in her chest finally releasing its grip on her and falling away.  “Let’s go home.” 

As they stepped into the light together and the magic curled around them, their heads tilted together, their lips meeting. A bright light, shining and radiant, erupted from inside them. The power of it shimmered, colour and magic spiraling together like jeweled starlight, holding a world of promise and the faint scent of middlemist blooms.

#captain swan #emma swan #killian jones #cs fics #captain swan fanfic #cs fanfics #cs ff #steph writes

[frozenwolftemplar]

Alrighty, time for a new 'Carmen' fic! I know I say this a lot, but ^this^ is one of my favorite fics I've written for this fandom and I'm really happy with how it turned out, so I hope you'll give it a shot.

Summary: Shadowsan is worried. At ten, Black Sheep is already starting to grow as callous and dismissive towards the value of a life, just like the other Faculty members have hoped. Something must be done before she falls too far, beyond hope of salvation. But what?

A simple child's picture book spotted in the store window of a bookstore in Japan provides the answer.

#carmen sandiego fanfiction #fanfiction #in which i write #carmen sandiego 2019 #cs fanfic #shadowsan #carmen sandiego #cs fanfics #ringing bell #chirin's bell #chirin no suzu

[laianely]

Feel free to send me prompts for CS ff

And I'll try to write it.

It can be situations or phrases that should be said by one of the characters. But specify what you want to read: smut, whump, fluff etc. I'm ready to try any genre. Perhaps, except for something very violent like guro...

You can also ask me anything you want.

For your prompts and asks

#captain swan #captain swan fanfics #cs fanfics #captain swan ff #cs ff #laianely’s fanfics #ask me anything

[gingerchangeling]

Guess who managed to actually write something for the first time in three years.

Two thousand words in about an hour or so. Not too bad for shaking the dust off. Gotta say - it feels really good to have written again.

#captain swan #ouat #gingerchangelingdoeswriting #cs fanfics #fanfic

[cssecretsanta2020]

Santas I’m Sorry

It has been brought to my attention that a certain post recently about Santas interacting with their giftees has made a couple Santa uncomfortable.

For that I am truly sorry.

This is one of the last few events for the Captain Swan and Ouat fandom and EVERYONE who signs up and participates is appreciated no matter how you participate. 

That post wasn’t intended to make anyone feel under appreciated. It wasn’t intended to make anymore feel as if they need to send a message every day.

I am aware that the real world is chaotic. And we as people are a little chaotic as well. I understand some people don’t have time to go online everyday, some don’t have the energy to write a whole getting to know you message or come up with different asks besides those that pertain to the gift their making, and some have social anxieties that transcend even the anonymity of online.

For this event all that is required is one message to your giftee once a week. That is just so all parties involved are aware everyone is still active in this event.

I am sorry for what I said. It was rude and brash and didn’t consider outside factors. I hope this will not effect people future involvement in this or any other events.

#Captain Swan #cs fandom #ouat fandom #CS fanfics #cs fanart #cssecretsanta #csss #cssecretsanta2022 #CSSS2022

[kymbersmith90ff]

Read All About It: Chapter 3

Summary: Using Twitter to ask an actual princess on a date may not have been Killian’s best idea - until it was.

The credit for the wonderful banners for this story goes to @hollyethecurious​ and @itsfabianadocarmo​. Thank you both so much!

Killian spent the rest of his day traipsing around London with his parents and his brother, feigning interest in anything they deemed noteworthy while trying his hardest to covertly check his phone. So far, there had been no word from Princess Emma, but Killian wasn’t too worried. She probably had lots of stuff to do, what with her being an actual princess. Okay, maybe he was a little freaked out that his flirting was becoming too much for her and he would never hear from her again, but he tried not to let those insecurities ruin his day.

When his parents finally settled on a quaint little pub for lunch, and Killian was happily nursing a pint of Guinness, he told himself he would check his phone one last time. He should have been focusing on the limited amount of time he had left to spend with his family before he’d have to fly back out to Vancouver, but he simply couldn’t shake off thoughts of those Twitter exchanges with the princess.

This time, when he opened up the app, his heart leapt at the sight of two notifications from Princess Emma (along with one from Robin, congratulating him on being so forward!). Killian ignored Robin for the time being and instead focused on the princess’s tweets.  

@KillianJones1 As much as I would love to take you up on that (and trust me, I would. You’re very firm!), I have to work today. Rain check?

@KillianJones1 Is there any direction to your wandering, or are you just lost in the city? I know it can be daunting for you country folk.

Killian did his best to smother his smile, well aware that his brother’s eyes kept darting back his way, and instead tapped out a quick response.  

@PrincessEmma I shall hold you to that! Not lost, thank you, just touring with my family. You do know we have cities in Ireland, right?

He quickly closed out of the app and pocketed his phone. He’d reply to Robin’s message a little later. Instead, Killian focused his attention back on his parents and the steaming plates of food that had just been placed in front of them all.

It was as he was finishing his final bite that his mother got down to the issue she’d been bugging him about for the last five years.  

“So, tell me, dear, are you seeing anyone special at the moment?”  

Killian almost choked on his food. He should have known it was coming, and yet, somehow, his mother always managed to lull him into that false sense of security she was well known for.  

“No, mother,” he replied, deliberately using the term he knew she hated most.  

“Hmm…” She fell silent for a few seconds, allowing Killian to take another, larger-than-necessary gulp of his Guinness before she continued. “You know, Maeve’s daughter is single now too. She had a nasty split with her husband. I’m sure I could arrange for the two of you to meet up before you go back to Canada.”

Killian’s mind was too busy casting around for information on ‘Maeve’s Daughter’ to form a coherent reply. Thankfully, he was saved from the embarrassment of his mother taking his silence as some kind of acceptance by the approach of a teenage girl at their table.  

The young girl looked over at him somewhat shyly before she asked, “Killian Jones?”

“Aye, that’s me,” Killian told her, easily falling into his public persona.  

The young girl blushed a deep shade of scarlet before she asked, “Can I get a picture with you, please?”

Killian nodded his agreement, standing up to wrap his arm around the young girl’s shoulders. Her friend took a couple of pictures of the two of them together on her iPhone before Killian gently removed his arm.  

“Thank you so much,” the brave young woman told him. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your lunch.”  

Killian waved away her concerns with a “No worries” and was about to slide back into his chair when she threw him for a loop.  

“I really hope you get that rain check.”  

This time, it was Killian’s turn to flush bright red as his hand came up to scratch behind his right ear.  

“Thanks,” he mumbled, his face firmly fixed on the floor and definitely not anywhere near his brother.  

“You’d make a cute couple,” was the young girl’s parting gift to him, before she practically skipped back to the table her friend had already returned to.  

Killian tried so damned hard not to think about just how cute of a couple he and the princess would make as he willed the colour in his cheeks to fade away.  

He was so lost in his thoughts that it wasn’t until his father cleared his throat loudly that Killian found his eyes rising to meet his brother’s.

“Who are you hoping for a rain check from, Killy?” Liam asked, his chin propped on his hand and nonchalance oozing out of him in waves.  

“None of your damned business!” Killian snapped.  “And don’t call me Killy!”  

Killian’s eyes darted between his brother and his parents before he excused himself and fled to the bathroom. He knew it wouldn’t stop their curiosity from burning, but he hoped it would at least help to reduce it to something of a simmer.  

It was only when he was safely locked inside a cubicle that he risked checking his phone once more.  

@KillianJones1 Oh, I know. But I wouldn’t exactly call Drogheda a city now, would you? More like a small town. And please do :-D

Killian sighed, letting his head fall back against the locked door.  

There was a chance he was getting in way over his head. He was thirty-four years old - not a teenager - and yet, one simple message from Princess Emma had his stomach fluttering in a way that it hadn’t for years.

There was absolutely no way he’d be able to explain all of this to his family, so instead, he fired off a quick reply to the princess before washing his hands and heading back to the table.  

“Tower of London?” he asked, with a fake smile firmly fixed in place as he took his seat once again.

#read all about it #Captain Swan #cs fanfic #cs ff #cs fanfiction #CS fanfics #captain swan fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan fanfics #modern au #Modern Royalty AU #modern actor AU #kymbersmith90

[bananachickens]

I had to come here and throw this out there, my headcanon has always been that Killian/ Hook is Bisexual and that Killian Jones/Huntsman have a past… a very sexual past!

Anyone else like to think that ? Is there a sailing ship for these two ? Is there a sailing ship for Emma/Killian/Graham or has it sunk years ago ?

Does anyone know if I should/ know who to tag for the GIF ?

Am I going crazy in my apartment feeding 30 Cockatoos to prevent them from being mad at me and attacking me? Yes! Please save me😅

#captain hook #killian jones #killian jones ff #ouat #bisexual killian jones #lieutenant killian jones #cs fanfics #graham humbert #irishswantrio #irishswantriofanfic #irish swan trio ff #Things I wish OUAT writers would have made canon but wasn’t

[artistamateurieuse]

Me *quietly slides fic across counter*: i got the good stuff

Disfordevineaux: Chasulia fluff?!

Me *frantically pulls back paper and scribbles extended ending down*: yes exactly what i meant uhuh

#carmen sandiego #carmen sandeigo 2019 #cs 2019 #cs fanfics #chase devineaux #whump fic #chasulia

[iamstartraveller776]

Next to You 4/?

Summary: (Modern AU) Killian had taken one look at Emma Swan and knew she was every kind of trouble a man ought to steer clear of if he wanted to keep his sanity. Beautiful, vulnerable—probably with a heart-rending backstory—but hiding it admirably behind a tough exterior. She was an open book to him, and he’d read one just like it before. The last thing he needed was to have her as a flatmate. Unfortunately, he was outvoted.

Rating: T

Previous Chapter (Also on AO3)

A/N: Therapy is a great thing. Like, your therapist says, “So, what do you do for self-care” and you answer “Um, self-what-now?” Eventually, I had to ask if writing was self-care or a job skill for me right now. I chose self-care—which means I can write WHATEVER I WANT WHENEVER I WANT INCLUDING FANFIC. (I’m not yelling at you, I promise. I’m yelling at that stupid “practical” voice in my head that says, “But you’re good enough to sell your work!” That idiot needs to learn that taking care of my mental health isn’t time wasted.)

Anyway. All this to say that I felt like writing more of this story. So I did. And it made me so happy. I don’t know when I’ll add more to it, so no promises on regular updates. We are living life one day at a time, me and my broken brain.

CHAPTER FOUR: Netflix and Chill

Killian cursed under his breath as he rolled to his side. After three hours of staring at the dark ceiling of his bedroom, he had to admit that sleep wasn’t coming. He was bloody exhausted. Tired of double shifts at the pub. Tired of hunting for reasons to stay out. Tired of living like a hermit on the days when he couldn’t stomach another bar crawl, another poker night, another party, or the infrequent tryst with a lass whose name he didn’t bother to know—anything to chase away the old, familiar ache that had dropped anchor once again in his chest.

“What’s going on with you lately?” David had asked this morning, wearing that damnable expression of brotherly concern.

Killian pasted on a smile, feigning ignorance. “Just trying to make the most of life before I shuffle off this mortal coil. Work hard and play harder, right?” He held up his mug of coffee in salute and left the kitchen before David could call his bluff.

The truth was—no. Killian smothered the thought before it could reach its ineffectual conclusion. He’d rather feel nothing than mope like some bloody angst-riddled adolescent over yet another woman he had no business pining for.

That’s bloody enough.

Scrubbing a palm over his face with a groan, he threw off his down comforter and sat up. He needed a distraction. Alcohol and Netflix should do the job at this hour. He swiped the bottle of rum he kept on his nightstand on his way to the living room.

Fifteen minutes and a finger’s worth of liquor into a pirate documentary Killian was only mildly interested in, one of the bedroom doors opened with a soft creak. He knew who it was before she stepped into the dull light emanating from the television. Wordlessly, Emma settled on the couch next to him, drawing her knees up to her chest. She gave him a cursory glance, and damn the woman took his breath away. Even in that threadbare Northeastern sweatshirt several sizes too big. Even with her hair thrown up in a tangled knot at the top of her head. Even with the glasses perched on the bridge of her freckled nose.

For the last month, he’d barely caught glimpses of her, mumbled perfunctory greetings in her direction when he did, and it’d been easy to tell himself that she was just a lass, that she had only been a passing fancy. But as the lavender in her shampoo permeated the air, that tense moment in the hallway came back to him as if it had been yesterday. The way she tipped her chin up, the dare in her eyes.

“You gonna drink that all by yourself,” she said, nodding to the bottle in his hand, “or are you gonna share?”

He didn’t answer right away. He had half a mind to give her the remote and bid her goodnight, but then her gaze softened, tough mask slipping away briefly with a silent appeal for them to be okay. Bloody hell. He’d do it—play pretend for her. He’d dance a bloody jig if she asked it of him, cursing her with every step.

“I’ve never been one to deny a beautiful lass,” he said, giving her his best devilish smirk as he handed the bottle to her.

She snorted and took a healthy nip of rum. “Yeah, I heard you were easy, Jones.”

He tried not to frown at the jab, knowing she meant it only in jest, but the words had a prickly sort of honesty to them that he didn’t care for. “Don’t believe the rumors, love,” he replied, keeping his tone light. “I’m a man of discerning taste.”

“I’ll bet.” She breathed a soft laugh and gave him back the bottle. “So, what are we watching tonight?”

He glanced at the screen, paused on a reenactment of some historical battle between ships. “A little swashbuckling and plunder.”

Emma scrunched her nose. “Pirates again?”

“Again?” Killian frowned. He hadn’t seen this documentary before.

“You’re kidding, right?” She rolled her eyes with a snort. “The ‘Black Sails’ binge. The ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ marathon. You were Jack Sparrow for Halloween. You even dress like a modern day version of a pirate with all the jewelry and black and swagger.” She waved a hand over his body.

He glanced down at his dark t-shirt and pair of flannel pajama bottoms with a pattern of dancing beer bottles—a gift from his nephew last Christmas. Hardly pirate attire, and he gave her a look that said as much.

“You know what I mean,” she said. “It’s definitely an obsession for you.”

“You’re one to talk, lass. Love on the High Seas, sound familiar?” A half second too late, he realized he wasn’t supposed to know about that.

Her mouth dropped open, a lovely pink staining her cheeks. “How do you know about that?”

“I’m perceptive, love.” He wasn’t about to confess that he’d made that discovery when he tucked her in one night months ago. And he certainly wasn’t going to tell her how often he’d been tempted to read the book to see why she found it captivating. “Besides, if I have a fascination with pirates, I come by it honestly. My great, great, great… I don’t know how many ‘greats’ granddad was a pirate.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. He was a pirate,” Killian said. “According to family lore, he was the inspiration for the infamous Captain Hook.”

Emma pursed her lips. “Now I know you’re yanking my chain. You’re telling me your great-whatever-grandfather had a waxed mustache and a perm.”

He huffed a laugh at her reference to Disney’s rendering of the classic villain. “I take it you haven’t read Peter and Wendy.” When she shook her head, he explained, “Captain Hook was actually quite handsome. As you can see, the apple doesn’t fall far from the ancestral tree.”

She rolled her eyes again. “I’m guessing modesty wasn’t anywhere in the family genes.”

“Oh, aye.” He laughed and for a heartbeat the world was right once again. But only a heartbeat. He couldn’t forget Walsh. He couldn’t forget that parting look she wore in the hallway after their heated words. He cleared his throat, picked up the remote to cover the sudden morose turn of his mood. “Shall we?”

Emma shrugged and it was a deflated thing—as if she too was struggling to keep up the ruse. “Since I’m sure this will cure my insomnia, we might as well.”

Killian shook his head with a twinge of amusement. She despised documentaries, called them boring. He, on the other hand, enjoyed learning a bit of history when the fancy struck him. He pressed play without comment, and they watched, occasionally passing the bottle between them.

She lasted all of a half hour before she blew out a sigh. He paused the film again, prepared to switch to something she would find more palatable. Perhaps one of the shows they used to watch together. When he glanced at her, though, the offer stuck in his throat. She stared ahead, gaze hollow as she hugged her knees. She appeared younger, smaller.

“Emma?”

She blinked but didn’t look at him. “Do you ever feel like you’re making all it up as you go?” she asked in a quiet voice. “Like, you want to have a normal, happy life but you have no idea what the hell that even looks like?”

He drew his brows together, uncertain how to answer. He’d given up on the notion of a fairy tale happy ending years ago—after Milah.

Emma let out another thready breath. “I broke up with Walsh.” She glanced at Killian. “You were right about him. About me. I didn’t want to see it, but I was trying to pretend that I’m not broken. I just… I look at Mary Margaret and David, and I’m jealous. I’ll never be like that.”

Her words made Killian’s chest tight with a different kind of ache despite his brief elation over the breakup. He shifted on the couch so he could fully face her, waited until she brought her glassy eyes up to meet his. “You are bloody brilliant, Swan. Just the way you are.”

“You really think so?” Her voice quavered, and he wanted to string up everyone who had made her feel less-than.

“Aye, I do,” he reassured her. “I’ve never known you to fail when you’ve set your heart on something. I’ve never known a more fierce lass.”

The pain ebbed from her features as she gave him a watery smile. “Thank you, Killian.”

A weighted silence stretched between them, and he gave into his instinct to gather her into his arms. She came willingly, resting her head against his chest with a sniffle. Sensing that she’d rather not talk further, he turned the program back on. In a matter of minutes, she began to snore softly. It was unjustly endearing, and he brushed a feather-light kiss to the top of her head before he could think better of it..

There was no going back from this, was there?

Next Chapter

#cs ff #captain swan #cs ff au #cs fanfics #cs fan fiction #my fic: next to you #next to you #ouat

[notebook91286]

Tonight, after watching #doomsday I had strange dreams ... And nothing this morning woke me up with a possible #fanfics about them four related to the #60thanniversary

#doctorwho #doctor and rose #tenth doctor #ninth doctor #Rose Tyler #60th anniversary #cs fanfics

[ao3feed-captainswan]

Darkness Will Be Rewritten

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/ScbEmGy

by nachocheese26

A delay of five minutes can alter someone's destiny entirely. Imagine what a delay of eighteen years might do.

The first eighteen years of Emma's life is a black void. And after ten years of having no memories for those years, a boy shows up at her door, claiming he's her son.

He takes her to Storybrooke and she finds herself staying, trying to deny the connection she feels not only to the boy, but also to the fisherman he hangs out with that smells like rum and has eyes that remind her of a home she can't even remember.

Words: 2937, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan/Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Henry Mills

Additional Tags: Canon Rewrite, Slow Burn, Henry isn't Neal's son, take a wild guess at who his dad is, Rating May Change, Temporary Amnesia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/ScbEmGy

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Captain Swan #CS fanfics

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:

🍇DIONYSUS; God of Wine making, fertility, theater, festivity, and insanity. 🎭

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

You get claimed in an untypical manner. You heard of demigods waiting for a sign of their godly parent claiming them, with a glowing symbol above their head. Instead, when you get introduced to the camp members, Mr. D appears carrying a can of diet coke and casually states “No need to put them in the Hermes’ cabin. They're one of mine's”

Cue the record scratch. This immediately brings a lot of confusion and gossip. Many eyes look between you and Mr. D who doesn't seem bothered at all. You saw Chiron sigh and place his hand to his face, giving your godly father a disappointed headshake. Then you hear Castor and Pollux yell that they have a new sibling that they didn't even know about?!

You get a lot of looks of sympathy and jealousy. You don't figure out why until a little bit later on. Chiron fills you in with a reassuring voice but also speaks with an exasperated tone to Dionysus 

Although you guys can't make wine or touch anything alcohol related, you did inherit Dioynsus' wine making skills. This includes also being good at making infused drinks or mixing drinks that range from mixing soda flavours together to making your tea blend. Even if the flavours shouldn't work together or whatever the drink type you're making, you just can. You are your own personal barista.

Putting this first and out of the way, you're both in a blessed and awkward situation where you are able to see and interact with your godly parent. Mr. D tries to treat you like every other demigod in Camp Halfblood, and that makes it awkward when you don't know if you should call him “Dad” or “Mr. D”, but at the same time, you know you have it better then others. 

It doesn't mean Mr. D doesn't keep an eye out. When you dedicate your offerings to the gods and look at him when you do it, you can just see Dionysus’ face soften and his eyes have a hint of affection. 

Don't ask how you or your other half-siblings came to be if Mr. D was sentenced to Camp Halfblood. You won't get an answer from but at least you know you're not alone and the twins are glad to have a baby sibling. Get ready for the youngest sibling treatment. 

Dionysus is the God of Theatre so you have a theatrical flare. Even if you're introverted, you're not exempt; this can be applied in how you do certain things or be rather convincing at times. If you're extroverted, well, you're automatically the Theatre kid. 

This turns out to be rather useful in events like Capture the Flag in a state of mania. When the heat of the battle starts to get to you, you feel your godly parent's power begin to rise in you and you can use that theaters flair to rouse your teammate's spirits up. You can also get a bit maniac and effect your teammates and enemies alike and become rather terrifying. 

You have a bit of a green thumb so you can find some solace with the Demeter kids. However, unlike the Demeter kids who can just make plants grow and flourish, your green thumb only really applies to plants you have an interest in like Dionysus with his grapes…or now strawberries. Regardless, you can keep a houseplant alive at least. 

Aside from a few very selected people within Camp, you're one of the few people who has seen Mr.D's true form. Not his godly form or the Mr. D you've seen, but the form he usually shows in front of mortals. Then it becomes very obvious how your other parent became so enamoured. You thank him silently for taking up his current form because you’re not going to be ready to hear about Mr. D being a DILF.

“Welcome to Cabin 12!” greeted Castor and Pollux as they opened the door to the cabin. You looked inside and saw how lived in the cabin was. It was clear the twins didn't expect to have another sibling and judging by the absolute shock that your shared father was supposed to be stuck in Camp, they really didn't expect him to have another mortal child.   

You also noticed on one of their nightstands there were stacks of Coke and Pepsi, each belonging to one of the beds. There were copious amounts of it, and you wonder if being a child of Dionysus was a prerequisite of having a drink as your go-to drink. Like wine fo Dionysus…though you heard he had to switch to Diet Coke due to his punishment. 

“Yeah, sorry for the whole…mess,” said Castor as he looked sheepish. “Pollux and I weren't expecting anyone else to be here, especially since it's been so long since we've first arrived. And you know, our dad, being, well-”

Pollux cleared his throat, “What Castor means, despite everything, we're thrilled to have a baby sibling. We've always been together so we're not that alone, but every now and again, we kind of get envious of the other cabins and having other siblings.”

You smiled when the door is knocked and a new bunk bed is being brought in, Castor and Pollux grinned at you. “Come on, let's get your stuff and space ready, and let's go see our dad.”

#pjo fanfic #pjo imagine #percy jackson and the olympians imagines #pjo #pjo imagines #pjo x reader #dionysus #mr. darcy #castor and pollux #castor #pollux #child of dionysus #demigod reader #demigod headcanons #demigod h/cs #demigod imagines #demigod #percy jackson and the olympians imagine #pjo reader insert #cabin 12 #Dionysus cabin #Mr. D #percy jackon and the olympians

[frozenwolftemplar]

Writer's Month Day 6: Surf

Fandom: Carmen Sandiego

Rating: G

Summary: In my Day 5 entry I mentioned Gray teaching Carmen/Black Sheep how to body surf. Basically, this is that.

+++

“Okay, here comes a good one!”

Gray grinned down at Black Sheep as he looked over his shoulder. “You ready?”

“Oh yeah!” Black Sheep returned his grin with her own do-or-die one, digging her toes into the sand so she didn’t start bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet (conducive to absolutely nothing except looking like a kid, which she officially wasn’t since enrolling a couple months ago).

“Alright,” Gray turned back around to face the beach, leaning forward like a runner about to start a race. Black Sheep copied his stance. “Remember what we’ve practiced?”

“Yup!” She faced the beach, steel in her eyes as she mentally ran down the list of steps Gray and her had been practicing for the last couple hours. Arms out in front, body rigid, feet pointed, head down. “Ready.”

“Good, cause here it comes…”

The current around Black Sheep's waist started to pick up, the water rushing faster as the building roar of a wave prowled up behind her like a wild thing readying to pounce.

“GO!”

At Gray’s starting whistle of a shout, Black Sheep pushed off the sandy floor. She snapped her body stiff, putting all Cleo’s lessons on posture and poise to use as her spine went ramrod and her feet followed suit, toes in those ever-perfect points a lady was supposed to have mastered. Carefully, she maneuvered one arm behind like some Superman characters she was apparently supposed to know about (like heck she was going to ask and look ignorant), using it to steer, just like Gray had shown her back on the sand and in the shallower, calmer, tamer waves closer to shore.

The beast of a wave surged around her, foam ruffling through her hair, and a thrill coursed through her veins as she felt its power swell beneath her, rising, arcing, cresting-

If it weren’t for the foam rushing around Black Sheep's face, she’d be laughing her triumph out for all the Island to hear.

Because the wave was no longer a wild beast rushing behind, seeking to subdue the meek sheep that was its prey; the tide had turned and now she was its master, riding it like it was a docile thing whose sole existence was to heed her command. A precursor of sort of things to come, for this, she just knew, was what the world would become once she graduated and stepped with head high into the glorious, adventurous, unmatched life of a professional thief, herself the undisputed exemplar of that elite breed.

“Right on, Black Sheep!” Gray’s voice came from somewhere next to her, and she could just make out, under the roaring wave, the cheers of Antonio and Jean-Paul from the shore, evidentially having taken pause in the former burying the latter to celebrate her victory over nature. She grinned into the foam, on top of the world.

But the wave was still The Wave, and even the most docile, tractable mount may buck its rider. Gaining speed as it rushed towards the beach, the water tugged, heedless of her Superman arms on its reins, jerking her sharply to the right.

“Pull back, Black Sheep!" Gray shouted, a note of panic in his voice. "Pull back!”

She thrust her shoulder back, trying to break out behind the wave and free herself from its headlong charge towards land, but, well, she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of that part yet. She was a prisoner of The Wave, helpless to break away to save herself, so when it, in the throes of a vicious rampage, plunged towards the sand-

“WOAH!”

"AAAAAUUUUGGGGHHHHH!!!”

*CRASH!*

-it left behind a scene that set the grains of sand laughing riotously as it, with feigned innocence, retreated: one dripping and disheveled Black Sheep, lying dazedly atop one newly-soaked Sheena, face rapidly turning red from something other than the sun.

“You okay, Black Sheep?” Gray asked, jogging out of the water, eyes concerned but with the beginnings of a grin waiting at the corners of his lips.

“HER?!?” Sheena fumed, extricating herself from the thumbs-upping tangle of immature. “She nearly cracked my ribs!!!” (ooh, that little punk was probably conspiring to get her benched until after exams, that’s probably what).

“Well, I mean,” Gray shrugged helplessly, the grin wending itself across its face, having been given license by way of Black Sheep’s own laughing one. “I *did* warn you that sunbathing was dangerous.” (never mind he was thinking of sunburns rather than flying sheep, but, well, danger was danger, right?)

“OOH!”  With that, the picture of indignance that was Sheena, proving that excess sun was not necessary in the slightest to turn her red as Hell, snatched up her useless towel and stomped back up the beach towards the tree line, kicking an irate sand spray towards the helplessly guffawing Antonio and Jean-Paul, both of whom were unaffected by the cutting remark that joined it.

“Crikey!” Gray gasped out presently, straightening up from where he’d been doubled over at Sheena’s exit. “That was some wipe out! Got Sheena awfully steamed.”

“Eh,” Black Sheep waved a dismissive hand in Sheena’s direction, sultry air simmering hotter in her wake, and cocked a grin. “That close to the water? She was asking for it.” (and she was, so she was blameless here).

“Not bad surfing either.” Gray winked, holding up a hand for a hive-five Black Sheep eagerly granted. “Want to go again?”

Seriously?

Black Sheep tossed him a smirk over her shoulder, a shove in his ribs for the stupidly obvious question, and sprinted towards the breakers, laughing as he raced to catch up to her. As if he had to ask. Because body surfing that wave, she’d felt on top of the world, and she couldn’t wait to feel that again!

****************🌊****************

Light burned through Carmen’s eyelids, causing her to stir and wake with a groan. The worn springs of the motel bed creaked their objections to early risers, and she looked dully around the room, the sun-drenched beach melting into the faded wallpaper and a tired-looking wardrobe and the drone of the air conditioner swallowing the echos of the pounding surf, her laughter as she rode the wave, and Gray’s beside her.

Only the salt spray on her cheeks remained.

#carmen sandiego fanfiction #carmen sandiego 2019 #carmen sandiego #writersmonth #writersmonth2023 #in which i write #my writing #cs fanfics #cs fics

[laur-the-cat-prince]

some sketches from a few months back. heavily inspired by @kaerwrites amazing fanfic ‘obligation of kings’ ❤️-❤️

#cs pacat #captive prince #capri #laurent #prince of vere #laurent of vere #auguste of vere #auguste #i love messy Auguste #fanart #fanfic

[weirdsociology]

Y’ALL i was in the elevator at work and an older woman got in with me, looked me up and down and said, “i just can’t tell you how nice it is to see a young lady with her nose in a real book instead of her phone for once”

which, ew on a lot of levels, but it’s work and an elevator so of course i nodded and said something noncommittal like “gosh thank you” as she got out on her floor

the book in question?

#💀💀💀💀💀💀 #i was DYING inside #ma’am i DO NOT THINK this toxic yaoi hea fanfic of dorothy dunnett is what you had in mind!!!!! #captive prince #i got in my office and closed the door and laughed and laughed #cs pacat #the power of ~~reading~~