#cs soulmates au

[hufflepuffinstorybrooke]

If You’re Lucky, Love Leaves Scars

Summary: In Misthaven, the people know that their rulers are soulmates, bound by the fact that they share their emotions and also physical pain. Follow Crown Princess Emma as she discovers that she has a soulmate of her own and her path to meeting her true love.

Rating: Rated Teen for a small instance of child abuse. You don't technically see it happen, but you do see the results from the soulmate's POV. Feel free to message me with any questions if you need more info before reading.

Notes: The notes might be a bit long, so bear with me: 1) I'd like to thank the runners of the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer for letting me participate in this year's event! 2) I would like to thank @kmomof4​ for my beautiful artwork! 3) Thanks also goes to @kazoosandfannypacks​, my wonderful beta. 4) A last thank you to my friends Caroline, who acted as a second beta (a gamma?) and cheerleader for me during the writing process. 

This is my first attempt at fanfic, so please be nice. More notes at the end. Enjoy!

Here is the link for AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48275764

Everyone in the realm knows the stories of soulmates. Not everyone has them, but when you do, what happens to them happens to you as well. When they bleed, so do you. And once together, soulmates feel what the other feels emotionally, as well. Only the truest of soulmates feel each others’ emotions before ever meeting.

Crown Princess Emma of Misthaven was born of True Love: the truest of soulmates, Queen Snow White and King David. The story of their love is legendary, bringing the kingdom out of the darkness of the Evil Queen and into their benevolent reign. Emma knew her parents’ story before she knew anything else. She would tell all the people she met that she was born of True Love, the daughter of brave King David and fearless Queen Snow. She loved the life that, in her mind, was given to her by that same True Love.

The love only grew when Emma was five, and her little sister Ruth was born. Emma adored being a big sister. Everyone throughout the kingdom rejoiced, though there were those who worried that another girl had been born instead of a son to rule. Snow only ascended to the throne because of the lack of a direct male heir and her defeat of the Evil Queen. Snow and David had no such concerns about who would reign after them. They saw the light of leadership in Emma, especially after she started her lessons.

While, in other kingdoms, Emma’s peers learned to dance and paint, Emma learned how to wield a sword, strategize a battle, and ride astride a horse. She did her own dancing with her father, but she considered it fun, not lessons.

As with anyone, Emma had her troubles; she got caught sneaking sweets before dinner, sometimes she would be in a foul mood for no apparent reason, and she had the occasional nightmare. One night, however, six-year-old Emma woke with a terrible fright and was inconsolable. Ruby, her godmother who looked after her at night, ran to fetch the king and queen. 

David was first into the room, as Emma almost always asked for him. This time, Emma threw herself, not at David, but at Snow.

“I felt as though you were gone! As if I no longer had a mother.” 

Snow held her daughter close. It was the same feeling she had when she lost her own mother. 

Snow and Emma held each other, David watching his girls fondly. Never did it occur to him that this same thing happened to him the day Snow’s mother, Queen Eva, died.

The whole family wrote the night off as a bad dream, but Emma grew closer to her mother. Emma was so much like her father that she tended to spend any free time with him, whether in the stables or the study. They rode, strategized, and dueled. After that night, Emma seemed to split her time more evenly between her parents. She would sit with Snow and listen to Snow’s more elegant form of strategy: diplomacy. David was a fair hand at this as well, but Snow was raised for it. She solved problems with grace and ease, be them large between nations or small between subjects. Emma learned the importance of both negotiations and battle in lessons, but she did not understand it truly until she saw her mother in action. This time bonded the pair, and all because of a dream.

Once her brother Leopold was born, most of the kingdoms expected him to be raised as the heir to the throne. Emma was only eight at the time, but she knew she wanted to rule and serve Misthaven as their Queen. She had seen the good that comes from being queen and wanted to help her people the way her mother did. Snow and David, knowing Emma was wise beyond her years, sat her down and asked what she wanted. She told mother and father, “I want to be the Queen of Misthaven.”

There was no more need for discussion after that. Snow sent out a proclamation that, despite the birth of a male heir, Emma would remain the crown princess. Ruth and Leo would both receive the same education as Emma, but as second and third in line to the throne.

----

At the age of ten, it is very rare to know if you have a soulmate. Children, especially children as tough as Emma, find themselves having any number of bumps and bruises. Emma had no idea that she had a True Love, much like her parents had each other. 

As the next year of her life passed, Emma noticed some oddities. No matter how sedentary her day was, her feet always ached something fierce at the end of the night. She would be sitting in the study reading and feel as though she stubbed her toe. Her body sometimes ached with manual labor that it had never truly known. She also continued to feel the ache of her mother’s absence, even, on some occasions, in her mother’s presence.

But then, another heartache woke her from a peaceful dream. This time, she ran to her parents’ room. Her mother sat at the vanity, but her father was nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Papa?” Emma said through her tears. Her mother tried to talk to her, but all Emma wanted at that moment was her father. Her heart was telling her that he left them. Snow held her daughter as she wept, having no other way to console her without David.

When David entered the chamber, Emma ran into his arms. “I thought you left. I awoke and my heart was just convinced you left us forever.”

David picked Emma up and walked her over to his armchair by the fire. His little girl was growing up much too fast, but King David was a strong man who would do anything to help Emma know he was there. “Emma, my darling princess, you know I would never leave this family. I love you all too much to ever leave you.”

“Promise?”

“Always. I will never leave you, my duckling.”

As father and daughter had their moment, Snow went to Ruby, who had followed Emma, and asked for hot chocolate with cinnamon to be brought up to the suite. 

As the family drank their special treat, David told his tale of a shepherd turned prince who fell in love with a princess turned bandit. Snow watched David, engrossed in his story, and Emma, slowly leeching comfort from her favorite parts. She knew how her poor daughter was feeling. The same thing had happened to her one night, only realizing years later that she was feeling David’s abandonment of his father leaving. Snow had an inkling of what was happening to her daughter. Part of her was thrilled that Emma would have a True Love of her own, but another part was sad. That part ached for the poor child who had already lost their mother, and was now abandoned by their father. She just hoped they were not alone.

Emma retreated in on herself for a week or so, staying with one parent or another whenever possible, and watching over her siblings when it wasn’t. Slowly, she came back to herself, but the feeling of abandonment still lingered, no matter how many times her father told her that she would be stuck with him for a good long while.

The Oddities, as Emma called her strange pains, got worse. The feeling of manual labor got worse, to the point where she would simply collapse into bed at night. For a few days, Emma was so nauseous she could only keep broth down. Granny, who ran the kitchens, made sure she had plenty and also kept her hydrated. Her parents worried, but the feeling passed in two days.

The final proof came two weeks after the abandonment started while Emma was dueling with her father. They used dulled blades and never to harm, always to disarm. Emma was moving in, gracefully making her father think he had the upper hand—when, all of the sudden, the princess collapsed, screaming in pain. 

David stood horrified for a split second before racing to his daughter’s aide. She had fallen to her knees, head on the ground. When David went to rub her back, she screamed as though he hit her. People began to surround the training ring, seeing what the commotion was about. Princess Emma kept screaming out in short bursts, jerking forward with every scream. 

David lifted her shoulders, getting Emma to put her arms around his neck as he carried her into the palace. They went into Snow’s study, knowing she was not using it at that time. Emma had felt at least twenty pains, each stinging more than the last.

A servant had gone to get the queen as soon as Emma collapsed. When Snow finally found them in the study, she was absolutely horrified. There sat her husband, silently crying as he held their little girl. Snow could only see Emma’s back, her favorite yellow dress streaked with blood.

“She just fell and started screaming,” David nearly whimpered to his wife, his voice hoarse through his tears.

Emma turned as much as she was able, looking for her mother. “Mama,” she whispered, voice weaker than David’s. Snow rushed to their side taking Emma’s hand in her own. “Why is this happening, Mama? What did I do…”

Snow cut her off, “Listen to me, my duckling. This is not your fault. We will find out what is happening, and we will put an end to it. We will do everything in our power to make sure this never happens again.”

-----

Snow and David rarely fought. They could usually discuss their disagreements until a compromise was reached. This seemed to be the only time in Emma’s memory when her parents were very obviously at odds. But every time Emma walked into a room the arguments went silent, remaining civil but frustrated with each other. They would not let her know what was going on.

Emma was worried. Ever since her mysterious injuries a week ago, everyone in the castle was on edge. People would whisper where they thought she couldn’t hear and stare where they thought she couldn’t see. Her parents’ argument started then as well, and Emma had come to the conclusion that the fight was about her. 

Exactly ten days after her injuries, Emma was walking past her mother’s study and heard her parents’ shouting. Emma was done with secrets, so she decided to listen at the door.

“What do you want me to do, David? Leave some child in this condition. All indications point to the fact that they were whipped. If Emma’s loss and abandonment were right, this child has already lost their mother and been abandoned by their father. They could be all alone. And you want me to do nothing!?”

“I never said I didn’t want anything done, I just don’t think enacting military power is the way to go here.”

“And I’m not saying have our armies storm our subjects’ homes! I just want to make it publically known that we will not condone the abusive treatment of others!”

Emma had heard enough. She opened the doors and her parents’ quieted down at once. “I would like to be brought into this conversation.” Emma kept her voice calm and collected, while radiating as much authority as an eight year old can over their parents.

David spoke first. “That just isn’t a good idea, Duckling–”

“If this argument that has been going on for almost a fortnight has to do with what happened to me, then I have every right to be involved in how this is decided.”

“I know you think that, but you are still so young–”

“If I am old enough to learn to rule a kingdom, shouldn’t I be old enough to have input on how we treat the abuse of my soulmate?” 

Her father wore a look of shock, but it was her mother’s face she was drawn to. Snow looked sad, But also proud. Her daughter was going to make a wonderful queen. 

“I figured it out after he took the beating. The only power that could do that is soulmates. I don’t want him to suffer, so if we have it in our power to do something about it, then we need to help. And not just my soulmate, but others who may be in the same position. Where do we stand on ideas?” 

Emma was leading negotiations just the way her mother taught her, which made David realize it was pointless to try to argue.

“I would like to place extra soldiers in towns and villages to do outreach. Let the people know that if they need help, the crown will be there for them.” Snow restated her intentions from the beginning of their argument.

David was on the verge of interrupting, but Emma held up a hand, and he held his tongue. 

“I also want to fund orphanages all throughout the kingdom so that children without families can be provided for.” This had been a project Snow had wanted to start for a while. The incident with Emma’s soulmate just made it seem more urgent.

Emma thought for a moment, and then turned to her father and nodded, giving him his chance.

“Putting more soldiers in villages will do nothing but scare people. I know we do our best to prove to our people that we are not Regina, but the Black Knights caused too much damage to people and land for soldiers to be seen in a good light so soon after their reign of terror. I don’t oppose the orphanages nearly as much, but how are we to make sure that the children are in any better hands there than on the streets?” This was the circular argument that Snow and David had been trapped in for days.

“And what of our ports?”

Snow looked at her daughter with a furrowed brow. “Why do you think anything needs to be done at our ports?”

“Remember several days ago, when I couldn’t leave my room because of nausea? I was dizzy and felt like the world was rocking. I think he might have been at sea during the storm that rolled in a few days later.” 

Both David and Snow looked at their daughter in awe. Her lessons were clearly paying off. She would make a great ruler one day.

Before either of her parents responded, Emma came to her own solution. “We should place extra soldiers and stricter guidelines on ships that come to port. Allow search and questioning of the crew, but never seizure of the cargo, unless that ‘cargo’ includes people, then they are freed.” She looked to her parents, who still looked surprised, but nodded their agreement. “The orphanages are also a good idea, but we should place guidelines on the orphanages allowing for inspections. I think we should make a committee of advisors with a special interest in the wellbeing of children. Perhaps led by Granny or Geppetto.”

Snow was the first to react, getting up to hug her daughter. “That is an amazing idea, Emma. I am so proud of you.”

David embraced his girls. His duckling was growing up, and as proud as it made him, he also worried about how much longer she would need her doting father. “You make me proud everyday Emma, but this might be a new record.”

-----

Ten years passed. Emma’s plan for the children of the kingdom has flourished. The children of the orphanages are well-provided for, educated in the orphanages and then going on to get apprenticeships in their towns. The ports have shut down any slave trade movement through Misthaven and ensured the safety of crews.

As for Emma, she has grown into an accomplished, beautiful, and intelligent woman. Many a nobleman have come to try to court her, but Emma shows no interest in them, preferring to focus on the needs of her people. Emma does outreach programs throughout the kingdom, going from village to village and meeting with her people. If there are problems to fix or disputes to be resolved, Emma helps in the few days she is there. She also spends time in the orphanages, meeting with the children and making sure that they are taken care of.

Of course, she now spends much of her time at the palace as well. She sits by her mother’s side, assisting with the Queen’s duties. On this particular morning, they meet with leading members of the military to receive reports of the ongoings in their peaceful kingdom. And tomorrow night there will be a ball to celebrate promotions throughout the military.

Currently speaking is Captain Liam Jones. He's a handsome man, tall with wavy brown hair and nice blue eyes. Tonight, he'll be promoted from captain to rear admiral. He is young for the position, just shy of thirty, but during his captaincy aboard the kingdom’s flag ship he has justly upheld their laws and helped spearhead some of the changes made to Emma’s plans for the ports.

If the story she'd heard was correct, Captain Jones was a new member of their navy when the child protection laws were first set in place. He and a few other top students of the Naval Academy were assigned to the ports some days for hands-on training. One of the ships that pulled into port was one his father was supposedly working on. When the ship came to port, the now Captain—then Ensign—Jones found out that his father had abandoned the crew, selling his much younger brother into service to the captain. From the stories Emma heard, Jones was quite a sight to behold that day. Initially he was justly in a rage, but he pulled himself together enough to cite the new rules of the kingdom. In accordance with the new rules of port, ships with slaves working on them, there was a fine heavier than most ships could ever pay, or they could release the slaves. As the story goes, the younger Jones became a cabin boy until he was of the age to join the navy himself. He will be promoted tonight to captain, quickly working his way through the ranks.

As the current Captain Jones finishes speaking to her mother, he moves back to the line of men reporting. As her mother dismisses the men, Emma stands and walks over to Captain Jones.

“Captain Jones, a quick word, if you will.”

The captain’s eyes widen, and he kneels in front of her. “Of course, Your Royal Highness.”

“Rise, Captain Jones.” The captain comes to his feet, looking worried. “There is no need for concern. I just wondered if your brother would be attending tomorrow’s ceremony.”

“He will, Your Royal Highness.” There's still a fretful edge to the captain’s voice.

“I would like to speak to the both of you then, if you don’t mind.” Emma is curious to hear the accounts of these two men. She often hears about the benefits of the orphanages, but would like to know more about the naval aspect of her project. These brothers would be useful, having been on both sides of the situation.

“If I may be so bold as to inquire what this will be in reference to?” Jones seems almost suspicious of his princess.

“It will just be some shop talk, I am afraid. I have heard your story and I would like to know more about it, especially in reference to the safety measures I helped put into place.”

Captain Jones looks offended at Emma’s interest. He glances around, seeing that the queen and king are waiting for their daughter at the royal entrance. In a low voice he hisses, “Listen, princess, your parents have been very good to my brother and me through some very difficult times in our lives. For that, I will be forever grateful. You, however, sit here in the castle and reap the benefits of their thoughts and actions. Indeed, you just called their plan yours. My brother has been through enough hardships to fill several lifetimes, and I will not add being the princess’s storymaker to the list.” Jones gives a harsh nod of his head and storms from the room.

Emma is astonished. Not only has no one ever spoken to her like that, but Emma has an excellent popularity rate throughout the kingdom. She tours once a year, meeting with those in need and doing her best to make sure that every citizen of their kingdom is provided for.

But Emma’s shock turns to anger quickly. Just who does this Jones think he is? She'd worked hard to do her best for the kingdom and he has the gall to act as though she just sat here being frivolous. She had worked hard through much of her youth to make this kingdom a safe haven for her people. And he just comes in here acting like she has no idea of the troubles of others.

Emma storms past her parents, who are trying to ascertain the meaning of her conversation with Jones. She has much she needs to do to prepare for tonight, setting a new plan in place.

-----

Emma’s wardrobe has always been more modest than those of her peers. She rarely even tried to keep up, anyways, preferring to work on ways to help her people. But there is another reason. 

Emma’s soulmate experience had been quickly quieted throughout the castle. As most everyone who saw the incident in the training ring were soldiers of the kingdom, the king had to only ask for them to keep silent. The servants that helped tend to Emma afterward were the most devoted in the castle, too loyal to the family and charmed by the princess herself to spread the secret. The fashion now is to wear dresses with one's shoulders exposed, the neckline cutting almost straight across. The gowns are beautiful, but they would expose Emma’s scars on her upper back from the beating that was given to someone else. And Emma never wanted anyone to know.

Until now.

Emma has decided to let the kingdom know about her motivations behind her actions over the past ten years. In the morning a personal statement of hers will be issued through the kingdom. Emma dictates it to Ruth this afternoon (Ruth’s handwriting is better than Emma’s anyway) while Emma is fitted for her new dress for the ball. Johanna, the palace seamstress, is a miracle worker to have modified the dress made in a little over eight hours, but she too has always been fond of Emma.

The new dress is a simple, red, long sleeve ball gown. The only embellishments are some gems around the neckline. Her hair is up in an elegant twist with a delicate crown placed atop her head. The back shows a bit of her upper back and her scars.

Emma meets her family on the landing above the throne room. There will be an hour of ceremony before dinner and then they will move through to the ballroom for socialization and dancing afterwards.

Leo is the first to see Emma coming down the hall. His mouth drops. Never has he seen Emma looking so much like a real princess. (He has just turned twelve, meaning he now has to come to some of these royal events.) “Wow Em,” is all he can say.

Snow, David, and Ruth turn to see Emma. Ruth beams, having seen the dress earlier while she was dictating Emma’s statement. Snow knew Emma planned on changing her dress, as well as the statement she wrote and the brief words she wants to say to the men tonight. Snow smiles at her eldest, holding back the bittersweetness of watching your child become an adult.

David is speechless. He did not know about the changes to the dress. His little girl stands before him, no longer the girl who told stories of True Love to everyone she met. Now, walking towards him is a woman, elegant and beautiful. “You are beautiful, my duckling.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Before anything else can be said, Leroy begins to introduce the royal family into the function. 

Leo and Ruth descend the staircase together. Emma, as the crown princess, follows alone, then comes the king and queen. The hall is full of military men, standing to attention for their monarchs in two lines on either side of the aisle from the stairs to the dais with the thrones. The three divisions of the military—Army, Navy, and Royal Guard—are sorted by rank instead of by branch of service. This is another of Emma’s ideas from a few years back, to promote unity between the branches, as to not show favoritism to any one branch in particular. The mens’ families are also invited, as are any visiting dignitaries, and the courtiers of Misthaven.

As the royal family proceeds to the dais, the servicemen stay at attention and the rest of the guests bow and curtsy as their hosts pass. As soon as heads rise behind the family, some eyes are caught on the silvery scars on the princess’ shoulders. Some of the guests cannot help but to start whispering their own version of how the crown princess of Misthaven got what appear to be whip marks on her back.

Each family member stands in front of their throne as they wait for the king and queen to make it to the dais. Leo and Ruth have the simplest, hardly more embellished than cushioned armchairs, to their mother’s left. Snow’s throne is in the center of the dais and is the most majestic of the set, though still modest by some royal standards. David sits to her right, as he is her right hand in all that they do, and although they rule as equals, David’s throne is a touch less grand than his wife’s. Emma’s is the last of the line, though the median in design. While her parents’ seats have silver and gold inlays and their cushions are of splendid fabrics, the wooden base to Emma’s has only a few details that differentiate it from her siblings. And the cushions are much closer to theirs as well, with a bit of golden thread embroidery to distinguish it from Ruth’s and Leo’s.

As they take their place, Snow steps forward to address the partygoers. “Welcome honored guests. Tonight we celebrate our military and, in particular, the men being promoted tonight. My daughter, Crown Princess Emma, would like to share some words.” Snow sits, shortly followed by David, Ruth, and Leo. Emma stays standing and addresses the crowd.

“As her majesty said, tonight we celebrate the men who protect Misthaven and keep us safe. My family and I hold these men in the highest regards, however, today was also an anniversary. It is ten years since the start of our initiative to make the children of Misthaven safer. The origin of this project has been speculated, but there has never been confirmation of our motivations. Was it my father’s humble start, my mother’s time on the run, or the birth of their children that put the idea in the mind of our gracious queen and king? Well, today the speculation can cease. I am here to set the issue to rest.

“As we all know, our two esteemed rulers share the truest of true love bonds. They are soulmates of the deepest nature, sharing feelings, both emotional and physical. A little over ten years ago, we received confirmation that I, too, have a soulmate. Although it should have been a joyous realization, it was dimmed in the cruel manner in which we found out. You see, my soulmate was whipped. And as we share our true love bond, I felt as he did that day.” 

The crowd murmurs in surprise at the princess’s revelation. Only the courtiers closest to the royal family, an extension of the family itself, had ever known what happened all those years ago.

“As you can see, I bear the marks from the horrendous encounter.” The princess turns, showing the marks that can be seen on her shoulders. After giving the crowd time to see her scars, Emma turns back to face the masses and continues, “I do not reveal this now to gain sympathy or praise. I have kept this to myself all these years, not out of shame, but out of devotion. My soulmate went through something awful, and I never wanted this to be the reason we were drawn together, the scars and shared pain. I wanted to find love without proof, not displaying our scars before everyone. Recent conversations have proven that not everyone understands my devotion though. Not only to my soulmate, but to the kingdom at large. The laws enacted a decade ago were my idea. I wanted to protect not only my true love but all the children of the realm. I obviously could not have done this without our gracious monarchs, but the solution evaded us until we came together as a group to combat the injustices that plagued the children. No solution is ever perfect, and we work to improve everyday. If you take nothing else from this story, please know that I share my parents' passion for improving the lives of our citizens. I cannot and will not sit back in my luxurious life and let our people suffer. I will strive to protect not only our children but all the citizens of the kingdom, including the military officers who are here tonight. So I will hand the ceremony back over to our benevolent queen, my mother Snow White.” 

Emma turns to her mother and curtsies, and Snow pulls her daughter into her arms before she can fully rise. “I am so proud of you, dear,” Snow whispers.

“Thank you, Mother,” Emma breathes back, releasing her mother to take her seat for the ceremony.

As the promotions are given, Emma thinks back to her speech, particularly the reaction of one rear admiral-to-be. The older Jones brother started the speech with the proper steady attentiveness that military men wear in formal situations. However, Emma had seen flashes of surprise and a return of the anger after she had shown her scars. His gaze had flickered between her and someone in the crowd of soldiers. It was not an encouraging sign, but Emma is not one to be deterred. She plans to speak to the newly promoted Rear Admiral Jones and see if she cannot find an amicable solution to their rift. The Jones men are rising fast through the naval ranks, which means that Emma will likely have to work with them for years to come. She does not want that to be a contentious relationship.

Emma is pulled from her thoughts as her mother promotes men to the rank of captain. The younger Jones brother, Killian, is called forward to receive his promotion, and Emma is stunned. Never before has she seen a man so… beautiful.

Killian Jones has dark hair, nearly black, cut short and styled back. His frame is long and lean, clearly honed from years at sea. But it is his eyes that catch Emma’ attention. They are the clearest blue she has ever seen. She remembers his brother’s eyes, and while the color is almost identical, something is different. The princess stares, trying to see what the difference is, but Killian Jones is already taking his place back in the masses. Throughout the rest of the ceremony, Emma strains to see Killian Jones again but is unable to through the crowd.

Dinner is slow. All Emma wants is to seek out the young captain, to speak to him. It is a feeling the princess has never felt, the need to seek someone out for no reason but desire.

After the feast, the crowd is shown into the ballroom by the staff. Once the throne room holds only the royal family, they bid Leo goodnight. (He will not attend a ball for a few years yet.) Leo is escorted upstairs by Granny, who says she is too old to attend a ball. But before Granny takes her leave, she hugs Emma, sharing her pride in the young woman she has become. As Granny is not one for displays of her affection, Emma is surprised by the old woman.

That hug from Granny is enough to knock Captain Jones from Emma’s mind until they enter the ballroom. The royal family is, once again, announced, and the king and queen open the ball with the first dance. When the music starts, Emma starts searching the gathered crowd for the newly minted captain. But before Emma can find the younger Jones, the older finds her. 

Rear Admiral Jones bows to the princess. “May I have this dance, Your Highness?”

Emma pauses for a moment, confused. However, she does know she needed to speak to this Jones as well, so she curtsies and accepts his hand. “Of course, Admiral Jones.”

They move to the dance floor and bow respectfully to each other. Neither of them speak as they start to dance, and Emma’s eyes start to scan the crowd again.

“Looking for my brother, Princess?” Rear Admiral Jones states, rather bluntly. His eyes, so similar in color to his brother, have a storm raging behind them.

“Why would you ever say that, Admiral?” Emma did not want to admit her curiosity to the older Jones brother, seeing as he already does not seem to like her.

“I find it curious that you knew of my brother’s story before meeting him, as you admitted yesterday. And then today, your timeline of your own true love story lines up conspicuously well with my brother’s unfortunate history. Why are you so fascinated with Killian?” The change in tone when he mentions her ‘true love’ indicates he does not believe a word she said.

The princess focuses all her attention on the admiral. “What do you mean by that? Your story is quite the legend in the town, and we are not as disconnected from our people as you seem to think we are. I had heard of you rescuing him from a ship not long after we passed the laws ensuring children’s safety. Just because it happened close together, I see no other links to my past and his. Furthermore, do you not believe that I sustained these scars through a soulmate bond? Why would I lie about such a rare and beautiful thing, and such a tragic experience on top of it?” Emma is proud of her ability to keep her voice level, though her agitation starts to peek through her tone towards the end of her inquiry.

“Is it not curious that soulmate bonds only appear within royalty? It seems to be a tactic to place them further above their people. As to how you got those scars, maybe you aren’t as perfect as you would have us commoners believe, or perhaps you had a strict governess. I don't really care how they happened. I care that you seem to be fixated on my brother. So, Princess, I ask again. Why Killian?”

“The stories of true love in royal couples spread because stories of royalty spread further than others, but I have seen true love in everyday life, and I am sorry that you have not. And I am sorry you do not believe my account of my life, but it did happen as I said. I still do not understand the connection to your brother, but as far as I am concerned, he is a good officer with an overprotective big brother. If you ask my younger siblings, they would say that is a curse, but I am sure it was seen as a blessing when you rescued him all those years ago. I will ask once more that you believe that I had no other ulterior motive to tell my story, other than to settle questions in the minds of our citizens who, like you, have their reservations about me as a ruler. I intend to do my best for this kingdom, and to do that, I need to have the belief of my people.”

The song ends and Emma steps away from the admiral, curtsying to leave, but, as Admiral Jones bows in return, he asks “You truly didn’t know that Killian was whipped about a month before I found him?”

Emma freezes on the dance floor and, as a new song starts up, she looks at Liam Jones. “A month?” That would mean…

“I could never get many details about the beating from Killian, but one of his crewmates told me a little about it. It happened a little more than a month before I found him, about three weeks before the child protection laws were in place. Your story may have happened around the same time.”

Standing in the middle of all the twirling couples, Emma and the admiral are in the way. She pulls him to the balcony as her head swims. Could it be…

“I just want to protect my brother. And I know you are right, I am overprotective. But after our father abandoned him, selling him to slavery, I just knew that I had to protect him. Even if it meant protecting him from the very royalty that saved him.”

“When?” Emma asks, starting to pace. She is now remembering a night long ago that had been burned into her memory. 

Admiral Jones looks confused. “I don’t understand, Your Highness.”

“When did your father leave?” Emma demands, putting more force in her tone than intended, but she needs to know. Is this why she cannot get the younger Jones out of her thoughts?

“He abandoned Killian two weeks before the beating.”

“And your mother? She died two years before that?”

“How could you possibly know…”

“Because I felt it. I woke one night with a terrible heartache and ran to my mother. I had the terrible feeling that she had died, and I needed to prove she was still there. That was my first time experiencing my soulmate’s emotions.” Emma cannot breathe. She moves to one of the benches near the railing of the balcony, letting the cool sea breeze calm her. Of all the ways to find her soulmate, she never imagined it would be during a fight with his brother.

In the shock of the moment, neither Admiral Jones nor the princess noticed someone joining them on the balcony. But as Princess Emma catches her breath, Admiral Jones turns to leave the princess to her thoughts and sees his brother standing by the doors in shock. He strides quickly to Killian, wanting to talk to him before the princess sees him.

Killian finds his voice before Liam reaches the doors. “Brother, what is going on out here?” It is quite the scene to walk into, his brother having a word with the crown princess of Misthaven, and that is not even the strangest part. From what Killian has overheard, Princess Emma felt it when their mother had died. That must mean she is the soulmate to either him or his brother. And Liam has never been whipped.

Emma looks up at the sound of Captain Jones’s voice. Their eyes lock and for a moment, Emma sees confusion in his sky blue eyes. She stands, watching his eyes for the illumination of clarity to shine through.

“Four years ago, did you cut your arm?” Killian asks, his right hand moving to his left forearm. Under his uniform there is a scar from an injury he could not remember sustaining. It was as if it appeared from nowhere.

“I was thrown from my horse as I rode through the woods. I cut my arm on a rock in the fall,” Emma whispers, almost timidly.

Liam stands, watching his brother realize what is happening. He knows he ought to leave, but he turns to the princess. Liam needs to see her reaction. The shyness in her voice throws him for a loop and he finally believes her. As his brother moves from the doorway, Liam Jones steps back into the ballroom, leaving Killian and the princess to talk.

Killian barely notices his brother leaving, but the sounds of the doors closing makes him snap back to reality a bit. He’s speaking to the crown princess and has not addressed her properly at all. He kneels before the princess, averting his eyes from the beauty that stands in front of him. “I apologize, Your Highness, for my bluntness earlier and the lack of proper address. You must understand the shock…”

Emma moves to stand right in front of the captain. “I do not need your apologies nor your formalities, Captain. Please stand.” As he does, the princess extends her hand. “I think, after all that has been revealed tonight, we should be properly introduced. I am Emma.”

Killian grasps Emma’s hand, keeping eye contact as he kisses it. “I am Captain Killian Jones, Your Highness.”

Emma smirks, “I thought I said we need no formalities. To you, I hope to always be Emma.”

Still in awe of what is happening, Killian flushes slightly at the thought of addressing the princess by her given name. “That may take some time to settle in, Princess. It feels awfully disrespectful to address royalty by their given name.”

Emma chuckles slightly, “I hope that you can come to think of me as more than just royalty.”

Killian scratches behind his ear, an old nervous habit. “I could never think of you as ‘just’ anything. It will be a journey, but one I am more than willing to embark upon.” 

For a moment, the princess and her captain stand on the balcony, looking into each other’s eyes, smiling at Killian’s sweet words and the thought of a future spent learning more about the other.

Killian takes a deep breath and says, “Would you care to dance, Emma?”

She responds with a smile that outshines all the stars. “With you, Killian, always.”

They walk back into the ballroom as they will do everything from now on: together.

Final Notes: So in my vision Emma's ballgown in the dress from the season 3 finale with a modified neckline so it is off the shoulders and would show the top of her scars. Also I do not like the ponytail look for Killian, so his hair is short and slicked back for the ceremony. I envisioned it like his hair at the wedding.

#cssns23 #cssns #Captain Swan #CS soulmate #cs enchanted forest au #lieutenant duckling

[wyntereyez]

The Mermaid and the Codfish

Some time ago, I was asked how I’d tackle a soulmates AU.  I thought about it, and decided it would be an animal shapeshifter thing; soulmates can change into the same animal, but until they meet their soulmate, they’re stuck in a half animal form.  This proves to be very awkward, and I kinda love it.  This is going to skip around a bit as I cover various bits of OUAT canon.

***

The bird woman takes Emma’s order, and Emma spares her a smile.  The waitress returns it as best she can with a mouth that was half beak; her animal half was a near perfect division, her right side human and her left covered in brilliant blue Macaw feathers.  Her massive left wing sags with only a right arm to act as counterweight. When she leaves, her feathers brush against Emma’s hair, and her dining companion frowns.

“They really shouldn’t let someone like her work here,” he says disdainfully.

Emma struggles to keep her smile plastered to her face.  Her date is completely human; he’d found his soulmate years ago.  And yet here he is, on a date.  Having a soulmate didn’t guarantee loyalty.  She absently rubs at her legs through the elegant slacks; her scales have begun to itch. 

She listens to him prattle on about his favorite subject - himself - for a little while longer, before springing her trap.  And when her skip inevitably runs, Emma is in hot pursuit.  Her legs may have been ungainly, more suited to water than land, but she is accustomed to them.  It was only a matter of time before she’d caught her skip.

Her peers may call her ‘fish legs’ behind her back, but Emma Swan always got her man.

***

There are no soulmates in Storybrooke.

When she’d arrived with Henry, she’d assumed at first she was only meeting mated citizens.  But after a few days, she’d noticed no one had animal traits.  Either everyone in Storybrooke had met their soulmate, or she’d found a town full of the rare few people who didn’t have one.

Like Neal.

Perhaps the town had been founded as a refuge for those without soulmates?  It could explain Storybrooke’s oddness.  She tried asking Henry about it, only to be met with a blank stare.  Henry was too young to develop soulmate traits, so he’d been blissfully unaware of how impossible the town was.  But how had he never heard of soulmates?  Emma showed him her calves, how they were covered in fine scales that had to be moistened twice a day, showed him the delicate fins that were her feet, and freaked him out when she demonstrated how her legs had more joints than a human leg.

He’s horrified, then fascinated.  “It’s part of the curse!” he exclaims excitedly.  “Don’t you see? If everyone could find their soulmates, they could break the curse on their own!”

Emma smiles indulgently.  If only there was a way to magically suppress soulmate traits.  She’d give up hers in a heartbeat.

***

The curse breaks.  

Emma suddenly has parents, a fairytale couple her own age who turn into a magnificent stag and doe.  Mary Margaret - Snow White - studies her, searching for the soulmate traits she hides so carefully.  

“I’m sorry, Emma,” she says, her voice full of sympathy.

Emma stares at her blankly.  Now what was she sorry for?  She’d already apologized for abandoning Emma, not that that meant anything.  Emma understood, but it didn’t fix anything.

“You must have lost him so young,” Mary Margaret continues.  “Henry’s father, I mean.”

Oh.  She thinks Neal was her soulmate.

Emma doesn’t have the heart to tell her she’d fallen for someone who was destined to be no one’s mate.

***

The blacksmith has the head and torso of a fish.

Emma almost laughs hysterically.  How does that even work?  Wouldn’t the flames dry him out? How can he wield a hammer with a fin?  This doesn’t make sense.  Nothing makes sense.

Especially not how a cowardly blacksmith (with a voice and accent that sends a little thrill through her) could have scales that match hers.

Emma’s not the only fish woman.  There’s someone else out there for the blacksmith.

***

He’s Captain Hook.

At her threats, the cowardly blacksmith becomes a cocky pirate, and somehow, his voice becomes even more seductive despite coming from a fish’s gaping maw.

And suddenly Emma gets it and doubles over laughing.

“Codfish!” she gasps out.

His eyebrows - because, somehow, the fish head has eyebrows, though not a waxed mustache - raise up, before furrowing into a scowl.  “I have been called that, yes,” he growls.

They negotiate, if threatening with dismemberment by ogre can be considered negotiation, and Hook agrees to take them to the beanstalk.  Emma volunteers to climb with him.

The more he speaks, the more Emma can’t decide if she wants to kill him, or if she’s starting to like him.

Answer: she likes him.  A lot.  But he’s a villain and can’t be trusted, even though her instincts say otherwise, so she leaves him to Anton’s care while she and the others escape. 

She hopes the giant is a man of his word.

***

He follows them.  First to Storybrooke, then to New York.  And Neal.

Emma sees Neal glance between the unconscious Hook’s fish head, then down at Emma’s concealed legs, and he scowls.

Emma suddenly has the horrible thought that maybe Neal had taken up with her because he’d suspected she was Hook’s soulmate.  She doesn’t think Neal was that cruel, but it seems she doesn’t know Neal as well as she’d thought.

***

Hook discovers her secret in Neverland.  She was in desperate need of water, and Hook had taken her to a pool he’d assured her was safe.  He’d left, and she quickly strips off her pants and dove into the water from a rock that conveniently hangs over the pool, sighing as it takes effect on her dry legs.

She loses track of time as she swims laps, as adept in the water as a fish, and is surprised by Hook sitting on the diving rock.

“So you’re a little mermaid, are you?” Hook smirks.  

“So what if I am?” she demands defiantly.

He shrugs.  “Do you mind if I join you?  You’re not the only one who dries out.”

Emma’s not naked, and she understands his pain better than anybody.  “Go for it.”  She turns her back on him and languidly swims another lap.

Hook isn’t so graceful.

He can swim, yes, but his head and torso are awkward, and his legs seem tiny in comparison.  So instead sits in the shallowest part of the pond, occasionally ducking his head under.  Tired from her exertion, Emma sits beside him.

He turns, great unblinking fish eyes meeting hers.

“Do you even remember what you looked like?” she blurts out.  He’s looked like this for hundreds of years, and Emma can’t contain her curiosity.  What must it be like to be trapped like this for so long?  She wouldn’t have been able to bear it.

“I seem to remember being devilishly handsome,” Hook says, voice a low purr.

“You were a teenager.  You were probably pimply and awkward,” Emma teases.

Watching a fish pout is wild.  

***

It happens outside Granny’s Diner.  While everyone is still inside celebrating, Emma is sitting in the dark with Killian.  He’d traded his ship for her, his home, and no one has ever cared so much for her before.  And…she cares for him, too.  She leans forward, her lips brushing that rubbery fish flesh, when she feels a tingling in her legs.  Suddenly, the persistent itching vanishes, and her legs feel more solid than they had in years.  And, beneath her lips, she feels the scrape of a beard.  She draws back, opens her eyes, and gasps.

Oh.

Oh.

The face that looked down at her was roguishly handsome, with piercing blue eyes lined in kohl, a short, dark beard sprinkled with ginger, and dark, messy hair.

Killian Jones flashed a devilish grin that only made his face more handsome.  “Like what you see, Love?” He was cocky, but there was an uncertainty behind it.  Hundreds of years since he’d seen his face, he’d said.

”Yes,” she breathes, then moves in to kiss those very human lips.

~fin~

#captain swan #cs ff #soulmate au #animal traits #emma swan #killian jones #author: wyntereyez #fandom: once upon a time

[winterchimez]

MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny. ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

hi anon-ie!! yayyyy ok this is so fun imma just *rubs hands* cook up some scenarios 😋 (tagging the ones i talk to on a daily basis!! 💗)

@sungbeam acedemic rivals - theres something about you just being rivals with changmin and it gets on your nerve whenever he outperforms you but then all that bickering slowly turn into romance and thats something i will be watching from afar with my popcorn.

@from-izzy strangers to lovers - you and hyunjae (as much as i wanna mention the other guy but i won't bcs im trying to be nice 🥰) would meet as strangers on your first day of uni orientation, seemingly also ends up as deskmate in class and boom hes the goofy funny guy, always trying to get you involve in activities when you're just shy and reluctant and then the both of you start falling for each other

@daisyvisions best friends to lovers - we all know how much you love this, esp with hyunjae when yall be doing things that are pretty much obvious that's more than just friends 😏 so by the time yall end up together its more of a meh we've already done this before but then it gets awkward cs you're both now labelled as bf/gf

@aimeecarreros / @momhwa-agenda enemies to lovers - bcs of what you told me yesterday....but juyeon who's always teasing and bullying you...but then it's bcs he actually likes you sm but bcs of his ego he refuses to believe nor accept reality...but then it eventually hits him and hes confronted by you with a revenge dress and he goes oh. 😌

@snowflakewhispers mutual pining - realistically you and jacob would be having feelings for each other but then you both have your doubts (even though you don't look like it when you have beef with me everyday 🙄 HOWEVER it'll be cute but then the rest of us at the side will be all frustrated (aka me, daisy, elena) be like HE ALSO LIKES YOU BACK WTF but you're just "IDK MAN I DONT THINK HE WOULD"

@kimsohn unrequited love (but with a happy ending) - sunwoo's been head over heels over you since day one but you're always just ignoring his advnaces be like "this dude is hella weird", this goes on until one day you eventually see the other side of him, he makes you blush and he gets a high and giddy be like "okay confirmed maya likes me now i've won in life"

@justalildumpling rich kid au - ok i know it sounds cliché but hear me out!! na jaemin aka the rich boy from uni and he gets all the girls and naturally you fall for him too cs hell hes a fine-looking man but then maybe one day you are forced to live with him and thats when you see his true colours which makes you go ew, but then bcs of your personality you'll be like "i will change this man" (which you do) and he realises that you're not like the other girls out there

@ethereal-engene coffeshop au - you just give me calm sunshine vibes so!! you and woozi in the coffee shop, woozi as the barista (WHEW WITH A WHITE SHIRT- 😮‍💨) either you both work tgt as coworkers and eventually become a couple, or you would often visit the store not just for the good coffee but also for the good looking barista 👀

@drunkdrazed childhood friends to lovers - you're literally the sweetest human being so it would only be appropriate for this trope!! either with ten / jacob, you would fit so well 🥺 love the way how yall know literally anything abt each other and when yall reach uni / work and thats when you both realised that you're falling for one another instead 🫶

@h0mebody-heaven soulmate au - you're so funny and another ball of energy!! i can't imagine a better soulmate for hendery than you! lmao i can imagine all the chaos, the jokes that you both are gonna pull, probably asks you to film plenty of questionable tiktoks but then you oblige bcs YOLO 🤭

@strayed-quokka established relationship - do i need to say more, husband sangyeon and you're the housewife. you can replay that scenario in your mind.

@sanaxo-o arranged marriage - chanhee the rich son of dior's ceo ✨ but imagined getting pampered by him??? what a life it'll be 😮‍💨

#❄️ — asks! #sweetest anon! <3 #mutuals! <3 #this was fun ngl #def can do a pt2 if anyone wants cs the list here is already so long ansdjasnd

[princess-and-the-swan]

Captain Swan Fic Recs

I'm a slut for captain swan fics and for years I've lived off of the cs fic recs and masterlists other people have made so I thought I'd pay it forward and make one of my own. I'll be sure to come back and add more that I think of or happen to stumble upon. I hope y'all enjoy these as much as I have :))

Created: 05/03/2024

*** denotes fics I have/would 100% reread

MC Modern AUs (Misc.)

***Pan Says by HollyELeigh

Rating: E

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: In-progress

Tags: kidnapping, smut, mild dubcon

***Amaranthine by caprelloidea

Rating: M

Summary: In which soulmates are rare, and those that have them stop aging at adulthood. Rarer still – and dangerously conspicuous – are those that have special abilities. Immortality and powers alike fade when soulmates come in close proximity with their other half. In which Emma’s touch heals, and Killian’s kills.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: soulmates

Learning to Love (Again) by captain_k_jones

Rating: M

Summary: In the wake of his crumbling marriage, Killian Jones turns to his best friend Emma Swan for help. Even though Emma had just ended a two year long relationship she is more than happy to welcome Killian and Nate, his eleven month old son, into her home. What neither of them expect is to learn how to love again through each other.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Abandoned (as of 09-08-2017)

Tags: incomplete, divorced!killian, daddy!killian, friends to lovers, roommates

The Trouble with Faking It by nowforruin

Rating: E

Summary: Killian Jones is one drunken mistake from never setting foot on a movie set again. Enter Emma Swan, the woman his manager has paid to pretend to date him and clean up his image. It seems straightforward enough...but there's always trouble with faking it.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: fake dating, actor!killian, pining

Bitter Hearts (middle of the ride) by bookstoreromantic

Rating: T

Summary: Fresh out of prison, Emma’s not a student at Boston University. She’s just using the library while she studies for her GED exams. Killian doesn’t know that though, and Emma doesn’t ever want him to find out. Not when he’s the first friend she’s had in years.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: college au, friends to lovers

Let’s Just Be Us by colormyheartred

Rating: T

Summary: Three-shot. Based upon a prompt about rockstar!Killian and movie star!Emma secretly dating, but those pesky fans figure it out.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: rockstar!killian, actress!emma, secret dating

***Tutor Me by Lovingcsfanfiction

Rating: T

Summary: Killian just got accepted to Harvard and needs to find a way to pay for college. Emma is struggling in her senior math course and needs to raise her grade if she wants to graduate on time. What happens when an academically driven boy winds up tutoring one of the most popular girls at Storybrooke High?

Relationship: Lieutenant Duckling

Status: Complete

Tags: high school au, friends to lovers, pining, fluff

***More Than A Memory by always-been-a-pirate

Rating: M

Summary: He didn't remember much. He didn't remember her. The accident changed their lives and sent Emma into a tailspin, desperate for Killian to come back to her. But when he finally wakes up from his coma, the past six years are gone. He has no recollection of their love, but Emma refuses to give up on them. She's got her work cut out for her, but some memories are worth fighting for.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: married, amnesia, light smut

***Counting Down the Days by Montana-Rosalie

Rating: M

Summary: Emma is a time-traveler. Killian is always waiting for her to return.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Tags: Time travel, angst, smut

MC Canon-Divergence AUs 

***Until We Meet Again by searchingwardrobes

Rating: T

Summary: As a joke, Liam Jones pays a gypsy to show 15-year-old Killian his true love in her magic mirror. When Killian looks in the mirror, he falls through realms and time until coming face to face with a 15-year-old Emma Swan.

Relationship: Lieutenant Duckling

Status: Complete

Tags: canon-divergence, fluff

***the princess and the pirate by gingergenower

Rating: M

Summary: The curse never happened, and her royal highness Princess Emma is kidnapped by the pirates aboard the Jolly Roger. Neither side realise what they're getting themselves into.

Relationship: Captain Duckling

Status: Complete with separate epilogue

Tags: princess!emma, pirate!hook, light smut, slowish burn, kidnapping

A Toast to What If by HollyELeigh

Rating: M

Summary: Immediately following the end of WWII, Killian Jones and Emma Swan have a serendipitous meeting upon a train platform while each travels to their respective homes. When Emma’s traveling companion fails to arrive, she offers Killian her extra ticket so he isn’t forced to spend the night on a hard bench outside the station’s office. Once aboard, Emma receives devastating news - her lover has abandoned her to face her family alone with the news she is pregnant, and now, without a fiance. Moved with compassion, and a willingness to put off what is (or rather, what is not) awaiting him at home, Killian offers to go with her to face her family. They concoct a scheme to get married then have Killian “abandon” her a few weeks afterward, leaving her with no other option than to seek a divorce. A plan that will cast him as the villain and leave her somewhat blameless in her family’s eyes.

Falling in love with one another along the way wasn’t a part of the plan.

Relationship: Lieutenant Swan

Status:

Tags: fake marriage AU; post WWII setting, historical, unplanned pregnancy 

Somebody that I used to know by I_should_be_doing_other_things

Rating: M

Summary: Emma and Hook’s adventure into the past took a different turn than either of them could’ve predicted, and a small overnight trip turned into two and a half years of bliss. But now they’re back. And things have changed. And he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to survive it.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: time-travel, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, smut

MC Enchanted Forest/No Curse AU

A Sailor’s Tale by Dreamtalker1

Rating: M

Summary: After the Dark Ones assaulted the Enchanted Forest and occupied the Royal Castle, princess Emma and her bodyguard Ruby are on the run. To stay undercover, Emma travels disguised as a boy. By accident, they find themselves on the Jolly Roger in the hands of the infamous Captain Hook as stowaways. To save Ruby's life, Emma trades herself to the pirate as a cabin boy. Keeping her secret among dangerous buccaneers, will push her beyond her limits. In order to survive, she has to overcome her insecurities and stand up for herself.

Relationship: Captain Duckling

Status: Complete

Tags: no curse, princess emma, pirate killian, stowaway, ransom, undercover, smut

Only the Beginning by 4getfulimaginator

Rating: E

Summary: When Princess Emma and Lieutenant Killian Jones are shipwrecked on an island that forces you to confront your greatest temptations and deepest desires, the sparks that have always existed between the two are sure to come to an unbridled head.

Relationship: Lieutenant Duckling

Status: Complete

Tags: no curse, shipwreck, castaways au, pwp, smut

her crowning glory by emmaofmisthaven

Rating: T

Summary: The laws are clear: to be crowned Queen of Eala, a princess has to be married. Emma has a month to find a husband, or else the crown will be snatched from her and given to the only other heir to the throne, one Killian Jones.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: the princess diaries au, princess!emma, prince!killian

One Shots

Theoretically by wtvoc

Rating: E

Summary: Emma's friend Killian has a reputation for sleeping around (and so does she). When he gives her a surprising gift on her thirtieth birthday, something about it unleashes the question she's been wondering for years: is he really as good as they say?

Relationship: Captain Swan

Tags: friends with benefits, smut, friends to lovers, modern au

all i want is the taste your lips allow by bisexual-killian-jones (aelover867)

Rating: M

Summary: Emma and Killian are in a pickle. They have crushes on the Cassidy cousins, but they are none-the-wiser. Enter Killian's idea of pretending to date to make Milah and Neal jealous. This couldn't possibly go wrong.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Tags: friends to lovers, modern au, fake dating

#captain swan #fic recs #lieutenant duckling #emma swan #killian jones #captain hook #fanfic #ao3 #ffnet #ouat #once upon a time #ouat fanfiction #captain swan fanfic

[tumbleweeddesktop]

Thinking of a soulmate au yuelang where its the usual "you see your soulmate, your world turns colourful" type of thing and this time yqy world turns colourful when he fought tlj for the first time to seal him off, momentarily looks away and suddenly everything around him is no longer black and white.

Yqy doesn't know who and frankly he immediately goes back to fighting. He tries to look for his soulmate, inquiring abt everyone who fought in the war but it all reached a dead end. Sometimes his world flickers between black and white and colourful but cs he doesn't know who he could only pray that his soulmate is still alive. He kept this a secret from everyone.

Fast forward to the last fight. Everyone is alright but yqy world slowly, legitimately fades to black and white again. This time he felt that it will be permanent. So he asks around abt who was involved this time and cs its a smaller group he has his hopes high.

Until he finds zzl laying half dead. He instinctively knows and without a second thought sacrifices his life again just for this enemy in the eyes of everyone watching the scene.

Zzl comes back to life, weak but able to recover. It took a while for them to properly fall in love since all that complicated history thing. But now yqy finds a favourite colour, the green shade of zzl scales

#lqg actually figured out first that yqy can see colours #he doesn't twll anyone cs if yqy doesn't then there must be a good reason #zzl always has colour in his life tho #yqy is a health conscious man #yuelang #yue qingyuan #zhuzhi lang #svsss

[spartanguard]

imzadi

Summary: Lt. Commander Emma Swan and Commander Killian Jones, both of the USS Misthaven, have been having secret rendezvous for the past few years. Not just lovers, they're imzadi—not quite soulmates, but not far from that either. Maybe someday they'll reveal the depth of their feelings for one another. But today, they're just going to have another secret meeting, like they always do. (A CS Star Trek: TNG AU)

A/N: It's time for my annual self-indulgent birthday fic! This Star Trek AU (based on Riker & Troi) has been in the works for YEARS but I finally got it done in the last couple of days. For those familiar with Star Trek canon, I take some liberties for the purposes of telling this story, but I tried to stay true to the mythos. Thanks to @optomisticgirl​ for the quick beta!!! Enjoy!

rated M | 5.1 k words | AO3

“Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Lt. Commander Emma Swan, security chief of the USS Misthaven, nodded at her captain’s order and exited the bridge. She was off duty for the next 12 hours and knew exactly how she planned on spending the majority of them—assuming the person she was hoping to spend them with was also amenable to that plan. And she had a feeling he would be. (He always was, at least.)

She entered the vacant turbolift and gave the verbal command to the crew quarters’ level; she knew he’d be easy to convince, but she had to find him first.

The lift stopped before reaching her destination, and the door opened to let another passenger on board—and there he was: Commander Killian Jones, first officer of the ship, and brother of the captain. Half Betazoid, half human; completely attractive—and completely aware of it. There was no way the disheveled style of his dark hair or the length of his gingery scruff were up to Starfleet code, and honestly, no one should look as good as he did in his teal and black uniform—all lean muscle and swagger. It was infuriating. 

And it would probably bother her more if she wasn’t aware of the fact that he could back it up, and all too well. 

“Swan,” he greeted as he boarded the lift, stopping in front of her. 

“Jones,” she answered, looking him right in the eye. Honestly, those were her favorite of his features, even more than his elf-like ears and incredible backside. Betazoid people naturally had black irises, but he’d inherited some incredible blue ones from his human mother that were complemented even more by the color of his uniform. It sounded cliche, but the best way she could describe them was as the color of the sea—and like the sea, they changed.

They were a clear, bright blue when he was happy; a cool blue-gray when he was distressed; and when he was experiencing a very strong emotion, either his own or someone else’s, they disappeared into the black of his pupils. Being half-Betazoid meant Killian was an empath: not only extra attuned to emotions of those around him, but also well aware of his own, and it showed, if you knew what to look for.

And right now, as she stared up at him, with him intently gazing back, she smirked watching them shift from bright aqua to black as night. She loved watching the effect of her own arousal on him.

Thankfully, the door closed behind him at just the right time, and he promptly invaded her space, hand and prosthetic hook coming to rest on her hips while his forehead touched hers. He closed his eyes and in a raspy voice asked, “Swan, what are you doing tonight?”

Her hands came to rest on his shoulders and she gently arched her pelvis forward, just grazing his, but it was enough to draw a stifled moan from him. “You,” she whispered.

His eyes opened and he gave her a wicked, sideways grin in response, cutting a dimple into that scruff and somehow raising the temperature in the lift...or maybe that was just her. 

She couldn’t resist; she fisted his uniform in her hands and pulled him to her, finding his lips with hers in a searing kiss. Their mouths battled for dominance as their tongues danced, and her thick uniform had never felt so stifling. 

Honestly, it reminded her of their first encounter, when they were on an away mission on the jungle planet of Neverland. Back then, days of tension had finally erupted in a combined moment of bliss in the humid, dense foliage, and the rest was history—for a few years now. 

Before things went past the point of no return, Emma pulled back; they both needed to calm down before they left the lift, even if the sound of his ragged breathing only made her want to jump him sooner. 

“Wait 5 minutes; go check on engineering or something,” she breathed, forcing herself to take a step back when the computer’s voice announced their arrival on her floor. 

“As you wish,” he murmured, stepping out of her way as she exited. She paused just outside the doors, attempting to calm her racing heart before heading down the corridor, but glanced back at Killian over her shoulder. As the doors shut, she saw him lean against the back of the lift with his fingers pressed to his lips, looking absolutely fuckstruck. 

Coolly (at least, as much as she was able to), she headed down the hall to her quarters; she loved that she could render such a cocky, confident man, who had a quip or innuendo for everything, completely speechless. 

Once inside her room, she kicked off her shoes and sighed as she undid the zipper at her collar, able to breathe a bit easier now that she had some privacy. She tugged it down a little further, too, just into the red panel on her uniform, allowing the air to cool her flushed chest, but still to a modest level. Honestly, she’d been planning this encounter all day—she had to leave some surprises for later.

She did a quick look around to make sure things were tidy before Killian arrived, but she didn’t really have much to create a mess; that tended to happen when you grew up an orphan and joined Starfleet as soon as you aged out of the foster system. But she tossed yesterday’s underwear in the laundry compartment and folded her baby blanket up, setting it on the recliner just as a knock rapped against the door. God, he was so old-fashioned.

She made the few strides needed to cross her narrow living space, pressed the button that slid the doors open, and there he was, back to looking prim and proper as if he hadn’t been absolutely wrecked just a few minutes ago. Things must have been much calmer wherever he’d gone, but not enough for his eyes to revert to blue. 

“You requested a report on the status in engineering?” he began with a smirk. She hated that they had to use stuff like this as a cover for their nighttime activities, but damn if he didn’t sell it.

“I did. Come in,” she answered authoritatively, stepping aside so he could enter. Once he was in the room, though, she closed the door as fast as possible.

Which was good, because a second later, she was pressed against it, with his mouth on hers once more and their bodies aligned from chest to hips. His hand found its way to the elastic around her blonde ponytail, dug a finger under it, and pulled, letting her hair fall free over her shoulder. 

Then his lips wandered, down her chin to the sensitive spot below her ear, stopping briefly to suck at it just enough to make her squirm; when her groin inevitably brushed against his as she writhed, she could feel his erection through his uniform and she really wished he’d hurry up on this, but she could always tell when he had a plan.

His left arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her held in place against him, as his hand drew a heated path up her side, over the swell of her bosom, to where her uniform was partially unfastened. He kissed his way down her neck and then began to pull the zipper down, pressing his lips against her collarbone as it became exposed, and then down her chest to where sweat was beginning to pool between her breasts. She thought—or hoped, rather—that he might get distracted there, but still he went down, over her abs until the zipper stopped, just below her belly button, pressing one last kiss on her skin there before rising back up.

As he stood, the back of his hand drifted up her stomach, oddly sending a chill down her spine and she pressed herself closer to him. Despite what was going on in his pants, his face seemed relaxed and calm as he set about his business. Carefully, he slid his hand and hook under her uniform and over her shoulders, and pressed the material off of her, gliding down her arms until it fell off her wrists, leaving her almost bare from the waist up.

His eyes perused her form for a moment, and he smirked. “I could be wrong, but I don’t really think black lace undergarments are quite up to Starfleet regulation,” he jokingly chastised as he ran his palm over the soft material covering her breasts, brushing over her hardening nipple with his thumb.

“Are you complaining?” she threw back, coquettishly. “I mean, I can find something more suitable, if you think I should,” she went on, making as if to walk over to her closet.

He gripped her waist, though, before she could get away. “I certainly wasn’t protesting,” he clarified, voice dropping an octave. As he stood there holding her in his arms, a gentle smile softened his features, one that always made butterflies take up residence in her stomach. “My stunning imzadi,” he whispered.

There was that word again—imzadi. She had to look away, because the weight of his adoring gaze on hers, especially when he said that, was too much for her to bear. She’d never forget the first time he’d called her that—it was after their shared tryst on Neverland, as their bodies cooled next to a dazzling pool of clear water. He’d said it just as reverently back then, too, and explained to her what it meant: it was a Betazoid term of endearment used to signify someone’s first. He didn’t really clarify first what, because she definitely didn’t take his virginity, but she had to admit that she’d never quite connected with someone the way she did with Killian; they’d both been abandoned young and had to fight to get to where they were today.

Maybe that was why they clashed so much—they were too similar for their own good sometimes. But that meant it was even sweeter when they came together, physically or otherwise. Truthfully, she knew she was falling for Killian in a way that she’d sworn she never would, but he’d somehow managed to slip through the few cracks in her emotional walls and was slowly breaking them down, piece by piece. 

He wasn’t quite through yet, though, and she didn’t want to let him know just how far he was until she was sure he wouldn’t break her heart like others had in the past. But every time he uttered imzadi, and every time he looked at her in a way that made her feel beautiful like no one ever had before, she found herself inching closer to that point....someday. For now, though, what they had was perfect.

She attempted to tamp down that warm, fuzzy feeling that wrapped around her heart whenever he wrapped his arms around her, but it was getting harder and harder to do. She just hoped he hadn't picked up on that emotion yet, and thankfully, he hadn’t given any indication that he had. 

Besides, she could tell that something else was getting hard. When she finally dared to look up at him, his gaze had switched back to lascivious and she could feel his firm length pressing low on her abdomen. 

“Are you just gonna stare, or are we gonna do something about this?” she asked, turning on the charm as she gripped his hips and tugged them towards her, earning a gasp from him; flirtation was typically the best way for her to move the subject matter back into her comfort zone.

“Bloody hell,” he exclaimed at the move, throwing his head back and exposing the cords of his neck. She wanted to suck at the little constellation of freckles that ran down it, but they still had far too much clothing on for what she had in mind.

Lightly gripping his wrists where they rested on her waist, she slid his hand and hook down, taking the rest of her jumpsuit with them as they followed the curve of her hips until the uniform fell in a heap at her feet. His grip landed on her rear, palming the black lace she wore there as well. 

Carefully keeping their abdomens in line, she stepped out of the crumpled clothing and shuffled them a couple steps closer to her bed. 

She couldn’t resist—she went ahead and placed a few pecks on the marks on his neck, smiling at the feel of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Then she rose onto her bare toes and whispered in his ear, “My turn.”

Bless whoever designed these uniforms, she thought, because whenever she got to take Killian’s off of him, it was like discovering a goddamn treasure. She trailed her fingers down his neck to found the zipper tab on his collar, and started pulling, carefully and slowly. Each inch she opened revealed the thick thatch of hair that covered his firm chest, and she couldn’t wait to brush her fingers through it.

The hair tapered into a line that traveled down his strong core parallel with the zipper, leading to parts she couldn’t wait to unveil. But the zipper stopped before revealing those, and she involuntarily pouted at the interruption.

Killian gave a low chuckle at her expression, earning him a wry glare. She lightly shoved his pecs with both hands in response, but left them there, scratching her fingers through his chest hair and drawing a moan from him, this time closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. Part of her could have just stared at him like that, with his long lashes laying against his cheeks and his perfect profile highlighted by the dim lights of her room, but a more convincing part—and an increasingly wetter part—pushed her to keep going. 

Her fingers dragged up his pecs, tracing the dips of his collarbones, before slipping under the edge of his uniform and sliding the top down his arms, squeezing his perfect biceps as she trailed down to his wrists—but being careful of the hardware around his hook as she guided the garment off. 

The top now hung off his trim waist, giving her an unhindered view of his entire upper body. No matter how many times she’d seen it, she was always distracted by it: how a body could be so welcoming but also so exciting, as written by the gentle ripples of his understated, but still firm, muscles—just defined enough to let you know they were there but not enough to be uncomfortable.

That was a perfect description for their relationship, if it had to have that label: it was vague but it meant that they both felt safe with it; and they’d both been burned enough in the past that it was one of the key things that brought them together. She trusted him; she felt comfortable with him; she...well, she knew the word she wanted to use, but she didn’t dare to yet.

Lust, though...that word certainly fit, and described the overwhelming emotion that took over as she followed his treasure trail down until it disappeared in the bunched-up fabric sitting below his navel. Her patience was running out, so she grabbed his waist to pull him closer and then let her fingertips dip under the edge of his uniform.

But she scoffed as she slid them around him, pushing the garment over his ridiculous, perfect, firm ass. “Y’know, it’s awfully bold of you to critique my underwear as not being proper when you’re not wearing any at all,” she teasingly admonished as she freed his erection. 

“Are you complaining?” he parroted with a smirk. 

“Nope,” she answered, letting the rest of his uniform fall to the floor around his feet. 

She took a second to glance at his strong thighs, but was more eager to straddle them, so she pressed herself back against him and started to guide them yet closer to her bed. She may have been too eager, though—understandable, given the way his cock was pressed against her stomach—but in her haste to get him horizontal, she failed to give him a chance to step out of the uniform sitting in a heap at his feet.

As such, they barely took two steps before falling comically onto her mattress, him wrapping his arms around her waist and her with her hands pressed to his chest.

“Shit,” she cursed. “You okay?”

“‘M fine,” he said in a strained voice. “Just—let me catch my breath, before we move onto more…enjoyable activities.”

She sat back and he shifted under her, better positioning himself on her bed. As soon as he was fully on the bunk, she shifted forward again, perching herself on his lap and suppressing the urge to grind against his groin—especially knowing how much the lace of her underwear would drive him crazy.

His hand settled on her own leg and slid up until it settled at her waist. For a minute, she continued to admire him again—watching the way the muscles of his chest and stomach moved as he breathed, quickly at first and eventually evening out—until he squeezed her side. 

“Now where were we?” he finally asked, voice low and husky as he peered up at her from her pillow. It was probably just the low light, but his eyes somehow seemed even darker. 

“Mmm, somewhere about…here?” she replied as she shifted forward, now taking the time to press her core against his—and grinning at the groan she pulled from him in the process.

“You bloody minx,” he purred as she hovered above him, placing her hands on either side of his shoulders. “You take pleasure in torturing me?”

“You know I do,” she tossed back; they were both fully aware he could sense her amusement.

“And here I thought this was a social call. May as well send me to the brig if all you’re going to do is punish me.”

“Not tonight.” (Though she did have a pair of handcuffs somewhere.) “I’d rather not deal with the subsequent officer’s report.”

His hand slid around to her back and he pressed her against him. She sucked in a breath at the slight friction of her lace bra against her nipples. “That would be an awful waste of time. And so is this conversation.” And then he silenced her with his lips atop hers. 

Barely-clothed make outs were nothing new for them, but Emma never tired of the way they gradually keyed each other up as their own personal arousals increased and fed off the other; the way Killian moaned and whimpered as she pressed her hips against his only furthered it. 

At some point, his hand found its way to the clasp of her bra, and in a well-practiced motion, he undid it, then kissed his way down her left shoulder while sliding the strap down. She hated to put any distance between them when they were in the thick of things, but raised herself a few inches—just enough to get the garment off and toss it aside. 

She was about to lean back in when the world suddenly spun around on her; when it settled, she was on her back on the other side of the bed, and Killian was hovering above her, smugly. “You know, Swan, I’ve had a craving the last few days that no replicator could ever hope to supply,” he murmured. 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

He moved so his mouth was near her ear and, much like she had earlier, whispered, “You.” His hot breath on her overheated skin made her tingle with delight; Killian’s subsequent shiver told him he felt it, too. 

Like he did earlier, he worked his way down her abdomen, placing kisses as he went (and spending no short amount of time caressing her bosom with both hand and mouth). But when he got to her hips, he gestured for her to raise them. She complied, and he gently—almost reverently—placed hook and fingers under the waistband of her panties and guided them down, like he was carefully unwrapping a gift (which, given his previous confession, he probably was).

Ever the romantic, he even pressed a kiss to her ankle as he pulled the lace undergarment completely off. (She’d chastise him later for chucking it over by his scrunched-up uniform.) And then his hungry eyes held hers as he lowered himself off the end of the bed, back down over her sex. 

He breathed on her, and she shivered—both at the hot air and in anticipation. Even he had to close his eyes and take a moment before doing anything else; her own arousal was clearly affecting him. (And she loved it.)

(Yes, she was capable of using that word. Just not in all contexts.)

He gave an initial lick at her folds, making her toes curl. Then he went back in with his talented tongue and started to slowly work her up, and she gave herself over to bliss as he went. 

Every move he made brought her more and more pleasure. Emma was no stranger to flings and one-night stands, but none of them were ever as giving of lovers as Killian, and she made sure she repaid it in kind. 

Not just yet, though—actually, they needed to slow down. Because the closer she got to her peak, the closer he did, too; that was something they’d figured out long ago. (But again—it was nice knowing that the quickest way for your lover to come was to make you come, too; more than she could say for quite a few other people now in command across the fleet.) 

As her heart rate picked up and breathing grew deeper, she could feel him begin to stutter in his movements as his own climax drew near. 

It almost pained her to do, but this was a marathon, not a race; she needed him to last all night. “Hey,” she said, and propped herself up on her elbows enough to pull her sex away from his face. His eyes were closed, but he was pouting. She sat up enough to reach down and run her fingers through his hair, which had fallen across his forehead. “Together?”

He blinked his eyes open and had a soft look, despite what they were in the middle of. “Aye, together,” he answered, and crawled back above her. 

They were familiar enough with each other’s bodies that it didn’t take much effort for him to find her entrance and press his length in, and she knew just what angle to prop her hips at to make it effortless. 

His hand again found her hip as they both reveled a moment in the feeling of being joined. She wasn’t sure she’d ever admit it, but those were the moments when she truly understood the whole imzadi thing—regardless of their physical position, she’d never felt so connected, so in tune with Killian as she did then. And it was something more important to her than she cared to admit. 

The careful way Killian was placing kisses on her jaw suggested he felt similarly; those were the times when she wished she was as aware of his emotions as he was of hers, but at least he was far more communicative when it came to those things than she was. (She’d never asked, but she often wondered if part of being empathic was wearing your own heart on your uniform sleeve.)

Her thought process was taking her down a path she wasn’t ready to go down yet, and she shifted—not uncomfortably, but just to create some friction (more physical than emotional but that was just as likely). He got the hint—not that he really needed it—and began to move. 

The other perk of having a lover who was aware of every turn of your emotional state was that he was almost constantly aware of what she needed—one step ahead. They quickly found their rhythm, well-rehearsed at this point, but she didn’t need to tell him when to go harder or softer or change his angle—he just knew. (For her part, she’d learned to read his own body language and react accordingly; the last thing she wanted to be was a selfish lover.)

All too soon, she was approaching the edge of release again (not that she’d come very far down after their brief pause). Killian’s stilted movements echoed the same. “Come for me, love,” he murmured as he pressed in firmer; as divine as that felt, she was aching to fall. 

She met each of his own subsequent moves, tension rising, rising, rising, until finally—there; she came with a gasp, the waves of pleasure she’d been chasing finally crashing over her. 

And him—his own release was instantaneous, and their cries mingled in the quiet of her quarters (which, thankfully, were soundproof). She could feel him pulse inside her as she dug her heels into his lower back, mostly as an anchor, lest she float away in space as they succumbed to their shared bliss. 

Orgasms always seemed to last longer with Killian; even after he’d pulled out and set her down, they both were on a physical high for some time after, and lay there, wrapped around each other, until they came down. 

(She loved it. And that was all she’d say.)

Their breaths eventually evened out, in time with one another’s; she sometimes wondered if their hearts beat in syncopation, too, but figured that was just the hopeless romanticism of her best friend (and the ship’s counselor) Mary Margaret rubbing off on her. 

“I’d ask if that was good, but…” he started, but she could hear as much as see his smirk. 

“You know it was.” She slapped him playfully on his bare shoulder, but noticed that his eyes were starting to regain their blue color. “You know everything.”

“It’s nice to hear you finally admit it,” he teased. 

She just chuckled and curled into him a bit more. It was a little more lovey-dovey than she’d usually do, but…it was Killian. Loathe as she was to admit it, every one of their encounters like this let him more and more inside her walls; maybe not fully breaking them down, but giving him more and more access. 

And the fact that it was just between them helped. She was a pretty private person, especially with the role she held on the ship, and wasn’t ready for the world to start making any other sort of commentary or assumptions about her. She hadn’t even told Mary Margaret. (And god forbid the captain ever found out; Liam was known for running a tight ship and she could only imagine the reaction if he ever found out two of his senior officers, one of them being his brother, were sleeping together.)

“What are you thinking, love?” he asked softly. “I can read your emotions, not your thoughts; but something is on your mind.”

“Yeah,” she started. “How do you manage to keep this,” she gestured across the minimal space between them, “away from your brother? Especially with your whole telepathy thing?” Betazoids as a species were telepathic; the fact that the Jones brothers had a human mother hadn’t changed that, but limited their abilities to only communicating with others of Betazoid descent.

“I don’t,” he answered casually.

“You what?” she whisper-yelled.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t hope to keep this out of my thoughts, Swan.”

“Killian—he’s my commanding officer!”

“Aye; mine, too. And he doesn’t care.”

“He doesn’t?”

“No. He says he much prefers this than the alternative, which is us constantly being at the other’s throat.” She blushed at that, because it was true—prior to their first coming together, they fought incessantly (which, looking back, was probably due to the attraction they’d both been denying). 

“Okay, but you don’t tell him all the details, do you?”

“Of course not; you know I don’t kiss and tell. But I rarely have to; he says you’re usually fairly happy after the fact.”

“Oh my god,” she complained, burying her face in her hands. “I might as well write ‘I just had sex’ on my uniform.”

He laughed—that deep, low thing she loved, reverberating across his chest as he pulled her towards him. “You’re not denying the happy part.”

“We both know that’d be a lie.”

“Mm, true,” he agreed, and pressed a kiss against her temple.

She had planned on going in for round two, but fatigue was gradually taking over, paired with the sense of safety she only felt when she was in his arms.

He wasn’t going anywhere, she knew; they could do more later. So for now, she’d rest, close to the one person who meant more to her than anyone else.

(That much she could admit.)

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Killian loved these nights with Emma. He loved the way she’d seek him out, teasing him as soon as she found him. He loved the bit of subterfuge they had to perform to cover for their meetings. He loved the way they came together so perfectly.

He loved her—his darling imzadi. He knew the title weighed heavy on her at times, but she’d never tried to reject it; in the time since it’d been bestowed on her, she seemed to appreciate it more and more, even returning it.

They’d never discussed anything deeper about their relationship—it definitely was one, of a sort, but they both had baggage that made them hesitate. He’d never said out loud the extent of his feelings, but had a sense she was aware and was stubbornly ignoring it—both his and her own.

The perk of being an empath was being able to read her easily; but it was both a blessing and a curse at times, too. Because in these quiet, shared moments, he could sense the way she felt about him—and she loved him just as deeply as he loved her.

Knowing that was enough for him, for now; maybe someday, they’d finally be able to say the words aloud to each other. Just not yet.

Until then, he was content to hold her close and be at her side, like they were now. As she drifted off to sleep, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, hoping that expressed everything he felt. Her lips curled into a smile; his did the same, and he let sleep claim him as well—while also plotting a way to escape from her quarters in the morning unseen.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

thanks for reading! tagging some peeps: @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic  @phiralovesloki @thisonesatellite @iverna  @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture  @wingedlioness @word-bug  @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa-default  @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich  @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook​ @jrob64​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @deckerstarblanche​

#cs ff #captain swan #ouat x star trek #cs smut #my ff

[cssns]

Hi everyone! Please help me welcome @hufflepuffinstorybrooke to CSSNS23!!!

What’s your Tumblr? 

@hufflepuffinstorybrooke​ on both tumblr and AO3

How long have you been in the CS/OUAT fandom?

I binged OUAT when it was on Netflix post s3 and was hooked pretty quick.

When did you start shipping Captain Swan?

I liked them from the beginning! But it definitely became my otp in Neverland

What drew you to this event?

I have been a huge fan of this event as a reader for a few years, and I had a story in progress that fit the bill and I decided to give it a shot

What inspired your topic?

I saw a post about 4 years ago about soulmates being able to feel each other’s emotions, and it felt like a great prompt for CS!

If you would like to share a snippet/sneak peek/summary of your fic or artwork, please use the space below.

So it’s a Enchanted Forest Lieutenant Duckling Soulmate AU. We follow Princess Emma experiencing her soulmate’s feelings, but also growing into a strong, confident ruler until she meets a certain lieutenant in her navy!

What are you looking forward to most about participating in this event?

I am excited to finish this story that I started 4 years ago, but also maybe making friends within the fandom!

I’m Carrie’s artist for the event and she’s shared a bit of what she has planned for the fic, and let me tell y’all, it’s SO GREAT!!!! Her Soulmates one shot will be opening the event, dropping on Saturday July 1! Everyone go say hi and welcome her to the event!

#GTKM #CSSNS23 #hufflepuffinstorybrooke #gtkm interview

[snowbellewells]

A Birthday Gift for the Amazing Krystal @kmomof4

Krystal @kmomof4 -- I tried and tried to come up with just the right sort of story to write for your birthday, or rec list to make of your works, or gift to send to you in the mail, but nothing seemed quite right. Then an idea finally struck me. I hope you will enjoy it, and that maybe it will feel like the gift keeps on giving as it unfolds: A Krystal's "Choose-Her-Own-Adventure" Story!!! (I don't know if you remember those books where you, the reader, got to choose the different turns it would take at various points in the story.) I'm hoping to gift you a story where you get to choose the pieces and parts you'd like, and I'll craft something that goes along with what you suggest.

So, to start us off message me, or send me an ask, or e-mail me (or whatever you would like :) and answer these questions to start with, and I'll do my best to get your adventure on its way....

Sorry it's so late in the day, but I hope it's been a wonderful birthday for you. You deserve all the celebration possible!!!

Questions to start under the cut:

Overall Type of Fic You Want: Canon Compliant/Missing Moment Canon Divergent Modern AU///Enchanted Forest AU Historical AU Movie/Show/Book AU Other (another type you would prefer)

Other Relationships to Include Besides CS: Captain Cobra Captain Charming daddy!Charming mama!Snow CaptainBook BrothersJones Other (your choice)

Side Characters to Work In: Will Tink Grumpy Elsa Ruby Jefferson Other (your choice(s)

Relationship Tropes to Use: Slow Burn - Mutual Pining Enemies to Lovers Soulmates Childhood Sweethearts Forbidden Love Princess/Pirate or Royal/Commoner Musician or Actor/Actress Other (up to you)

Plot Elements to Include: Bed Sharing (Only One Bed) Isolated or Trapped (huddling for warmth) Love Potion Truth Serum Pregnancy (accidental or planned - you choose) Natural Disaster (shipwreck/fire/flood/etc.) Other

#birthday fic idea #komof4 birthday gift #choose your own adventure fic #fandom shipmate birthday

[star-my]

Ateez Fic Recs ☆ Ao3

These are all available on ao3 as of April 2024. Some may require an account to view them. Some are likely crossposted on tumblr as well.

~TUMBLR RECS HERE~

Almost all are complete works, those with “+” after WC are incomplete.

Most of these are Mature or Explicit (usually because of smut) ~ mdni ~ italicized titles rated G or T ~ Please read responsibly

OT8/Multi

☆ Raise, Protect, and Hope by SinisterSound | Found Family, Mafia/Assassin AU | Platonic OT8 | 49k

☆ He's a Pirate series by pearlypearlypearl | Pirate AU, Magic AU | 70k

☆ The So Unknown series by themoonlightfae | F2L Vampire AU, Found Family AU | 110k+

☆ sticky by maganxx | FWB2L Roommate AU, Uni AU, Omegaverse AU | PSH + KHJ | 15k

☆ A Fever You Can't Sweat Out by to_shinestar | F2FWB Roommate AU | CS + JWY | 12k

Kim Hongjoong

☆ <<Do you believe in fate?>> by LettersFromAphrodite | Magic AU, Soulmate AU | 42k

☆ Plug & Play by bangtanintotheroom | Band AU | 10k

☆ Say My Name by twinmoles | Demon AU | 8k

☆ Hearts Over Clubs by starryjeekies | S2R2L Mafia AU | 28k

Park Seonghwa

☆ Kiss of Chaos by tenelkadjo | Magic AU, Witch AU, Annoyances/Enemies with Benefits to Lovers? | 40k

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☆ {Unavailable}

#star speaks #group: atz #member: ot8 #type: fic #ateez fic recs

[ironstrangeao3]

Lost Warriors of Elysium

by forevernightfall

When Peter Parker accidentally kickstarts the unraveling of the universe (Spider-Man: No Way Home), the remaining Infinity Stones & Deities are forced to act, the Time Stone, rather known as Aika, pays a visit to Stephen Strange, her Zakar. With that, they rewind time back to a time of great need, specifically Tony's time of great need, when he is lost in Rose Hill Tenessee with little Harley Keener. Aika moves Strange's training back so that he is still a sorcerer.

The Zakars and their respective Gods recollect, and start planning for their future threats. But are they prepared for what trouble Elysium and its dangers will bring to them?

“Zakar mine, it seems as though you have an.. infatuation with Hankali’s Zakar.” Kifo teleports near Bucky, poking and prodding at him. “He's very handsome isn't he? Oh! And what vigorous muscles he has, and shant we forget his hands, Loki Mine?” Kifo grins wickedly, watching as Loki jumps and glares at him, not noticing how Bucky’s cheeks flush the lightest red and smirks.

“It’s alright Kifo, I find Loki alluring as well.” Bucky winks, watching in satisfaction as Loki flushes pink from his ears to his neck.

Words: 1156, Chapters: 1/20, Language: English

Series: Part 6 of AU ; soulmates, Part 1 of Elysium

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Doctor Strange (Movies)

Rating: Not Rated

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

Categories: Multi

Characters: Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Harley Keener, Loki (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Carol Danvers

Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange, Tony Stark & Avengers Team, Harley Keener & Peter Parker & Tony Stark & Stephen Strange, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark - past, Happy Hogan & Tony Stark, Happy Hogan & Pepper Potts & James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Stephen Strange & Wong, Christine Palmer/Stephen Strange - past, Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Loki & Tony Stark & Stephen Strange, Gamora/Peter Quill, Carol Danvers/James "Rhodey" Rhodes

Additional Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Deities, Sentient Infinity Stones (Marvel), Infinity Stones as Gods, Minor Character Death, Sort of Not Steve Rogers Friendly, only cs wanda is influencing him, Not Wanda Maximoff Friendly, Not Vision Friendly (Marvel), srry yall, i love him but had to sacrifice him for the greater good, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/46895305

#tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange #fanfic #ao3

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

In your mind, what would be your ideal fanfic to find? Tropes, writing style, themes, characters, universe, and so on?

Well, that went long... I am sorry. Do you know what is worse? This is the shortened version.

Oh, I am so torn... okay, so either one where Killian is deep in his villain-era (or is Dark!Hook) and Emma falls for him (or already has fallen for him) and has to help save him from the grip of darkness. I love when broken people find one another and learn to trust each other, even as they are scared it will fall apart because they don't think they deserve happiness. For this kind of fic, I would want a lot of focus on the emotional development and thoughts of the characters. I think it would be a terrific enemies-to-lovers, forced proximity, hurt/comfort, slow burn that would break me to pieces before it resolved beautifully and happily with them on the same team and fighting together and vulnerable and so, so in love with each other.

But, also, I could go for a friends-to-lovers KillianxEmma that is as modern-day AU. I want there to be a lot of yearning, but also this comfortable friendship that has endured some shite, ya know? This one feels like it should have an only-one-bed situation. A found family. He falls first. Maybe he has even tried before and she turned him down? Maybe he was married to Milah and Emma was with Neal when they met? I could do with some false starts before they work it out. Again, this would likely be a rather emotion-focused narrative. (Which is just a reflection of my mood today, ha! I love expansive narratives, I love a distinct voice, I love when the narrator breaks the fourth wall, etc. But, apparently, today, we are seeking a bit of an emotional impact.) Again, I like when two broken people find each other and love one another's jagged pieces.

----------------------

(There is a future fic that a lovely shipmate in the CS discord is writing that also checks so, so many of my boxes, so I didn't include those here. But, if you're still hanging in there, it is shaping up to be a soulmate fic written with a snarky and delightful voice from Emma's POV. She has been cursed to be invisible until she finds her soulmate. And, I am so, so excited about it.)

#asked and answered #and answered some more #and then answered even more #i am sorry anon #but this was an incredible question

[poptimus-prime]

Soulmates au

And jealousy for the tropes?

These are both Cs.

I like them enough, but going through the tags for these trops can be like wandering into a mine field for me. There’s a select few who I think could pull either of these off.

#daphnis.docx #asks

[catspittle]

— character info sheet.

(repost, don’t reblog)

name: Kay "Jonathan" Robert Crane. Or Jonathan Wong. We don't know, actually; he gives slightly different answers every time just to fuck with people.

name meaning: 劉, the character for battle-axe. Jonathan: Hebrew name meaning "God has given". Robert is an old German name that means "bright fame". A crane is a bird, Wong translates roughly to jade.

alias/es: [the] Scarecrow, Harvestman.

ethnicity: Identifies solely as Zhuang, though in reality is Zhuang/Armenian/Greek primarily, with some Irish.

one picture / icon you like best of your character:

three h/cs you never told anyone:

He has the tongue of Gene Simmons; borderline prehensile and overly lengthy.

Has nearly been killed by Basil Karlo. Only got out of it because he was knocked up at the time and Basil felt like being generous.

Mostly vegetarian by choice, when he does decide to eat without having to be fed through a tube. He does follow some tenets of Buddhism.

three things your character likes doing in their free time: 

Being unconscious. There is no greater hell than being alive. Do not bother him. He literally gets excited about going to bed.

....fucking. It's all he knows how to do, debatably. Even there's a fine line between enjoyment and self harm for him.

pre-Parkinson's, sculpting. Now it tends to frustrate him.

eight people your character likes / loves:

Caitlin Snow [Killer Frost] as played by Alex. She's his adoptive daughter, and so far his only living daughter until later Piper is born in his main canon. Unfortunately, he outlives her.

KATANA oh god Katana, as played by Vio. QPP and honestly his soulmate and best friend.

@oncegreatness - I do play them as knowing each other tangentially, and while Crane thinks he could stand to be a little less egotistical he respects what Basil's doing.

Garfield Lynns [Firefly], as played by Monica. They have a mutual goal of fucking over the rich and he can deeply relate to anyone who has the general attitude of "who gives a shit?"

Just about any version of Kite-Man, really. The guy is a ray of sunshine, or at least he is how I write him. Also Crane just has a thing for D-listers.

Main AU only; Hugo Strange. it's entirely possible he'll just want to fistfight other versions, because this asshole wants to fight everybody. Everybody.

@ people on Tumblr: yeah IDK interact with me more?? Shrug. My problem is mostly that he doesn't really know people. 8 is asking too much of me.

two things your character regrets:

generally being alive while everyone around him dies. Will I elaborate later maybe, it's 2 in the morning. His tenure on the Suicide Squad [main canon] sure was something, as he carries a lot of survivor's guilt.

the drug addiction that led to his firstborn being addicted to meth and not surviving because of it.

one phobia your character has:

Unlike canon Scarecrow, he's not really afraid of anything? He's deeply displeased by blood, but that's for understandable trauma reasons [literally bled to death].

Tagged by: I stole this from myself lmfaooo

Tagging: whoever wants to do this I guess??? Going to bed lol

#masterpost #where there's smoke there's fire - headcanons #suggestive #[okay going to bed now for real]

[falsegoodnight]

Time ago you talked about this idea of louis who hear harry songs but he never listened him so a soulmate au i think. Will you elaborate this idea? (Yes, i remember cs i really love the concept)

ahh yes!! it’s cool that you remember that! that fic is actually titled “our strings in a knot” which is what i had on that wip title list but basically this is a world where you can hear your soulmate’s voice sometimes but especially when they sing (the power of music or something idk sjsjs) however it’s only supposed to work when it happens subconsciously (like deliberately trying to sing or communicate with your soulmate doesn’t work!!)

louis is a very stressed grad student and harry… harry is a singer <3 and louis shouldn’t be able to hear him singing his entire setlist every night on tour since that’s deliberately singing, but he does, and needless to say, it gets very annoying very fast!

here’s a small snippet:

—

“Okay, so,” Niall says, clasping his hands together on the table. “We need to talk about what happened last night.”

Louis scowls, stuffing another bite of pancakes into his mouth. “Nothing happened last night,” he mumbles through his bite.

Niall arches a brow. “I didn’t realize we were calling you and Harry Styles – the Harry Styles – being literal, actual soulmates ‘nothing,” but alright.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Louis says flatly. “Us being soulmates doesn’t matter.”

“Wanna say it again? A bit more like you mean it?” Niall prompts.

“I’m serious,” Louis glares at him. “He’s made me nothing but miserable.”

—

hopefully that clears it up a bit! i also posted another snippet from this fic on my other account last year-ish i think that you can find here

#asks #snippet #wips #osiak #gonna start tagging wips like this on main bc it makes things so much simpler sjjd

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: ���You’re the Tune that Stuck” (au)

Summary: A soulmates au where you can have any number of things happen to reveal you have a soulmate. In this one, Emma suddenly hears the songs that her soulmate are either listening to or have stuck in their head. 

Rating: M for language just in case.

Word Count: Just under 8.5k

A/N: Just under the wire, here’s one of the fics that I mentioned in my retrospect, miraculously finished just in time. Please excuse any errors, as this is un-beta’d, and please excuse my bastardization of the movements of a symphony to break this down properly. One funny shout out, though: This fic was born and spiraled out of control after an exchange I had with @seastarved longer ago than I can actually remember, so I dedicate the concept to you, my friend. To all of you, Happy Whatever you celebrate, Merry Christmas, and I’ll be back soon with a January Joy and a CSLB to share. -xo

Prelude

Three times. Three times in the last week, she’s randomly gotten “The Song That Never Ends” stuck in her head. Out of nowhere. She doesn’t listen to that song. Who actually listens to that song? She’s not sure she’s ever liked that song, so why would it pop into her head just for fun and stick around for a few hours before escaping again?

The first time is at work, as she types up reports, and she doesn’t even realize she’s humming it until David, her friend and partner, clears his throat in that obnoxious way to let her know she’s doing something to annoy him, which in turn, annoys her. They stare at each other, with Emma glaring harder, until he clears his throat again in the way that says, ‘As you were,’ because he realizes he won’t win the fight.

The second time is at home while Emma is doing laundry. She’s halfway through draping her line-dry items on the rack when it suddenly starts playing, and she tries to change the song to something she actually likes for several minutes, before she decides instead to just imagine television static until the song goes away.

The third time, she doesn’t realize it has even reared its ugly head again until Mary Margaret, David’s lovely wife who is one of her best friends and her son’s elementary school teacher, asks if she is okay. Apparently, grunting out the tune is cause for alarm.

Mary Margaret hums in consideration after Emma explains what’s going on.

“What?”

“David and I didn’t realize we were soulmates until we were engaged, you know. We have these silly little birthmarks on the bottoms of our feet that match up if we press them together.”

“How did you not notice that? You dated for six years before he even proposed!”

“Emma, honey, when our feet were bare, we were hardly concerned with the bottom of our feet,” the sweet woman says with an obvious leer.

“I’m glad Henry isn’t around to hear this filth. From his teacher.” The other woman snickers, and Emma tries to hold back a smile. “You’re gross. I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Emma professes, making a face and moving to Mary Margaret’s side to pick at the food she’s preparing for lunch. “So, what, you think someone out there is listening to this song and that’s why it keeps getting stuck in my head? You think I have a soul mate?”

There’s a nod of agreement, even as Mary Margaret smacks her hand away from raw dough for her famous chocolate chunk cookies. “Could be worse, he or she could be listening to Henry the Eighth.”

“Speaking of, Henry is the only soul mate I need,” Emma finalizes, signaling the end of the discussion.

The aforementioned song gets stuck in her head, all her own doing, and she practically screams it in her mind in retaliation.

And thus, the war begins.

-x-

It turns out that once you figure out you have a soul mate that can hear the songs you’re listening to (or, heaven forbid, the ones that get stuck in your head) the worse the whole business gets. Suddenly, after Open House before the new school year begins, he’s aware of the music filtering in and out of his head like someone keeps turning the dial on the tuner. Whether the person on the other end of Killian’s brain knows it or not, he or she does a marvelous job picking the worst songs at the absolute worst times.

“Henry the Eighth” is bad enough, especially since he can’t stop thinking about one of his students and the crush he has on his unapproachable mother. Then there’s the time the children learn “Kookaburra” on their recorders, which is nearly derailed when Killian almost starts to play “Baby Got Back” halfway through the round-robin.

He will never forget the moment that Beastie Boys pops into his head during the one quiet hour he spends in the classroom, and he resists the urge to jam out to it in front of a full classroom.

He engages in gentle warfare for a day after he’s caught humming “Call Me Maybe” in front of Mary Margaret, who lifts her eyebrows almost to her pixie hairline at the song of choice. She seems to stop and consider him for a long moment before Killian coughs out an apology and scuttles back to his arts and music wing.

“What’s the most obnoxious song you know?” he asks the same fellow teacher a few days later. He’d been up most of the night with Backstreet Boys songs playing, and it’s time for retaliation. His hands have spent a significant amount of time in his hair during the last few hours, so he knows he looks disheveled and tired, and probably sounds crazy on top of it.

“Probably something like ‘The Song that Never Ends’ or something along those lines,” Mary Margaret responds, watching him carefully for something while she sips at her tea.

“Oh bloody hell, no. Not that one. That was a recent lesson on the recorder and once the kids started, they wouldn’t stop They kept derailing lessons for over a week. Little monsters, I tell you.”

If anything, the woman across the table looks like she’s trying not to laugh at him. “You could try something soothing instead of going for annoying, instead? Just a thought.”

Allegro

One day she wants to kill her soul mate, and the next she almost wants to find who they are when they pick songs like they did last Thursday. She viewed that hour of instrumental music as a peace offering during her overnight patrol, so she’s tried to ease up on how annoying she goes with the songs lately.

She toys with the idea of how to figure out who this person is, tries to come up with the easiest way to figure out whether it’s a he or a she, if they’re local, if they always have such shitty taste in music…

She’s technically on lunch when she starts this new game of theirs, but she stays glued to her computer in order to find the perfect song while David is more than likely making eyes at his wife. After a couple initial search phrases, she finds the one that might get the point across quickly. Her earphones go in, cautious as ever so that David doesn’t figure out what she’s doing if he comes back. While she didn’t tell Mary Margaret not to tell her husband about her soul mate, she’s sure it wouldn’t have mattered; her friend is classically bad at keeping any kind of secret.

Checking to make sure she’s still alone one more time, she hits play on the video she’s pulled up on YouTube, assured that she is the only one listening to “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” in this room, while someone else, somewhere else is hearing it, too.

She goes back to her paperwork, losing all interest in the pb&j she slapped together this morning in interest of time, and instead keeping herself busy to see if she gets a response when the song ends.

When the tune ends, she clicks out of the video and waits, and surprisingly is not disappointed. He’s apparently caught onto the game, listening to “A Boy Named Sue” wherever he is.

The song plays all the way through, and she has a smile on her face when David walks back in. He asks her a question, motioning for her to take out the earbuds she forgot to take out when she was done with her own song. “Listening to some good tunes on your break?”

“Ah, yeah,” she responds. She clicks out of the various windows open and stashes her headphones, giving a sheepish smile in the process.

“As long as it helps get through that mountain of paperwork you always leave behind, I’m not going to complain. Just don’t play Backstreet Boys for at least another month.” He grins at her, returning to his own desk as Emma huddles behind her monitor.

So, her soulmate knows she’s a woman. And she knows her soulmate is a man. Emma can’t figure out what else to share with him, though, so she aims for some of her favorite tunes for a little bit.

They start to pass songs back and forth when they have time, with the one that’s free picking up the slack if the other is unable to return the favor. Whoever is on the other end of her brain clearly doesn’t work on Saturdays and Sundays if his frequency of music increases where hers cuts back as she works through the weekend.

-x-

In the middle of September, Mary Margaret invites Killian to one of the high school’s football games. It turns out her husband is one of the assistant coaches, so she spends a great deal of time in the stands during the football season.

“Normally, my best friend comes with me, but she’s not back in town yet,” his fellow teacher explains.

“I’m happy to accompany you any time,” Killian says, smiling at her comfortingly and following up into the bleachers.

Despite living in the states for a few years, and living in Storybrooke for slightly less time than that, this is the first time he’s gotten to enjoy the customary American tradition of Friday night football. The Storybrooke marching band might not be big, but they are mighty, and he finds himself humming along with the fight song before the game even begins.

By the second half of the game, he’s cheering just as loud as the rest of the crowd, getting swept up in the simple emotion of victory at the end of the game.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to my husband,” Mary Margaret declares as the band exits their spot in the modest stadium, the crowds dispersing into the chilly autumn night as the team leaves the field for the locker room.

Introductions move on to coffee at Granny’s when the need to chase away the cold that’s seeped into their fingers and toes becomes a necessity. While Killian had seen the sheriff a number of times, it’s his first time interacting with him, and he finds he rather likes the man. Not normally one to partake in regular frivolity, Killian decides to pencil in the next game as well. He doesn’t have much of a social life beyond the school functions he helps out at, so attending some football games might be a mark in the positive interactions column that is currently desperately lacking.

Halfway through his second cup of coffee with the Nolans, the object of his silly affections bursts through the door, a flurry of blonde hair and red leather.

“Mary Margaret! I have new information!” The words are out of her mouth right before she notices him sitting there, and her head tilts to the side in a way he can only classify as adorable as she sizes him up. “Hello, Mr. Jones.”

“Please, call me Killian,” he says, extending his hand as she settles in the booth across from him. Her gloves are also leather, and her handshake is firm and decisive.

“What’s the new information?” Mary Margaret asks as soon as she can command her friend’s attention again.

“Oh, nothing, never mind.” Emma waves her hand in the air before giving the other woman a significant look. Later, she seems to say without words, and Killian fights the smile that wants to break through at witnessing the signature girl-talk. “So, who won the game?”

As they continue to chat about the team and such, Killian gets to observe Emma as he’s never seen her. Usually, she’s incredibly reserved, her responses clipped and efficient as she comes in for conferences. Once, at the open house at the start of the year, he managed to smile at her without tripping over his feet, which he constituted as a job well done. This intimate setting allows him to see her as a woman, instead of just the parent of one of his students.

Despite the coffee, he can feel his early morning catching up to him, even as Emma starts revving up. Killian marvels at the energy of the woman, especially when he notes that she’s only had hot chocolate since she sat down. She looks a little disappointed as he announces he’s turning in for the night, which Killian takes as his own personal victory for the evening.

“Thank you again for a lovely evening, Mary Margaret, David. And lovely to see you again,” he trails off awkwardly, suddenly realizing that he doesn’t know how to address her. Does he call her by her surname? Will using her first name seem too personal? Heaven forbid he just call her Henry’s mother, which is how he’s used to referring to her in his mind.

“Just Emma,” she says, saving him from a tailspin of confusion and worry. She smiles, and when she fixes that look on him, he’s lost to the green of her eyes and the dimple in her chin, to the lines that bracket her mouth.

“Well, hopefully we’ll get a chance to do this again soon, just Emma,” he says, his smile bordering on suave as he takes her hand and kisses the back of it, her skin just as smooth as the leather gloves she removed shortly after sitting down.

The overt display of flirtation is normally against his nature, and he clears his throat nervously as he drops her hand and straightens, shuffling from the bench a moment later.

Emma is still watching him when he turns back at the door, a similarly awestruck look on her face that is only broken when Mary Margaret asks her a question. With a smile stuck on his face, he exits the diner and heads for home, only remembering he has a soulmate out there and feeling awful about forgetting when the solemn version of “I Want to Hold Your Hand” pops into his head as he walks through his own front door.

-x-

“David, it’s girl-talk time,” Mary Margaret informs her husband not a moment after Killian walks out the door of Granny’s diner.

“Why can’t I stay?”

“Do you really want to hear about my love life?” Emma asks, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Okay then. I’ll see you at home,” David says, leaning across the table at the same time his wife does in order to give her a quick peck on the cheek. Emma would be unhappy with the display of affection if it were anyone else, but she loves these two far too much to take issue with their gooey mannerisms.

When David is gone and they’ve refreshed their drinks, Emma switches to the other side of the table in order to sprawl out a little.

“He lives in Storybrooke,” she tells her friend excitedly.

“Who? But more importantly, what was that between you and Killian tonight?”

“What was what? I didn’t do anything.”

“Emma.”

“Don’t Emma me, I didn’t do anything! He’s just… really pretty, okay? I’m allowed to flirt with people even though I have a soulmate out there.”

“Out there in Storybrooke, no less,” her friend comments.

“Oof, yeah. I wonder if I’ve ever met him before.”

“I’d bet on it,” Mary Margaret says, but there’s something in her voice that causes her to continue after the short declaration. “I mean, it’s a pretty small town.”

Emma stares at the other woman for a second, her eyes narrowed as she considers the first half of the sentence. In the end, she just hums her agreement as she sips her hot chocolate.

“Anyway, how do you know he lives in Storybrooke?”

“He was listening to the fight song tonight. He must’ve been at the game. I’m almost sad I missed it now.”

“Hey! Why only almost? Didn’t you miss hanging out with me tonight?”

“Mary Margaret, if I could get you without the Friday night testosterone, I would be in heaven. You’re lucky they have those elephant ears or else I’d likely never show up.”

“You’re no fun,” is Mary Margaret’s astute observation.

They spend the rest of their beverages speculating who might be her soul mate, but all Emma can think about is Killian, and the way he kissed her hand – how soft his lips were, his fingers callused from years of playing musical instruments. Still, there was something special about that contact, and she doesn’t even mean to think of the Beatles song that floats through her mind, confused and slightly annoyed that she would ever want to hold anyone’s hand.

-x-

It’s a strange sensation, to have someone else’s music buzzing around his head. As October comes and goes, he hears the faint strains of “Happy Birthday” come through in his sleep one night, mentally joining along so she knows he’s wishing it to her as well. November is over in the blink of an eye, and he’s expecting another quiet Thanksgiving at his home, working on music or lesson plans, as it’s not his holiday, anyway.

Mary Margaret seems to realize that he’s on his own right as the date is approaching, so she invites him to their place. “We have a small rag-tag group that comes together for the day,” she tells him. “It’s just David and I, a couple friends you’ll meet, and Emma and Henry.”

He makes sure to give a customary “I’ll think about it” response and waits until he runs into her in the teacher’s lounge again during lunch. “As long as it’s not an imposition,” he says, making that his one condition. “And you’ll let me prepare a dish.”

“Cheesy potatoes. I don’t have the room in my oven this year, and they’re Emma’s favorites,” she tells him, giving him a brilliant smile and hurrying off to her classroom.

Snow is falling when he arrives at the Nolan’s charming home, looking bright and warm against the muted hues of oncoming winter, but the chimney is sending up smoke and the front door is open and fogged, and it all looks more and more inviting the longer he stands out in the driveway of the farmhouse. It’s all too picturesque, and Killian wonders how he landed in such a cozy position, invited to the family dinner of a family who isn’t his. His casserole dish won’t last forever in its carry-case, not without cooling anyway, so he finally walks up the steps of the porch, appreciating the soft sounds of the worn wood beneath his boots.

He knocks twice on the storm door, but there’s no response amongst the clamor of silverware hitting the floor, a loud curse, and a sharp laugh which follows closely behind. Something echoes in his head, and he wishes he could rewind the noise to see what it was, but it’s gone as quickly as it sounds. Instead of waiting to be invited in, he slips through the door, knocking his boots on the doorframe and calling out as he does.

Mary Margaret is in the entryway in a flash, apologizing for the lackluster greeting as she explains that Emma dropped the entire box that held the fine utensils they use for fancy meals. “She’s currently up to her elbows in soapy water washing them all, and Ruby isn’t helping by teasing her about it.” She takes the portable carrier from his hands, zipping away to the dining room for a moment before she’s back in front of him. “Let me take your coat. There’s a tray for shoes under the hooks there, and if you’re weird about walking around in socks like Emma is, there are slippers in that basket right there.”

His coat practically vanishes from his shoulders as the whirlwind pixie bustles around him pointing and explaining and hanging before she’s all but sprinting back to the kitchen. She calls over her shoulders for him to follow, that they’re already working through a bottle of wine but she’s on her fifth cup of coffee, and he’s welcome to either option.

Truthfully, he’s not given a choice, as a glass of wine is thrust into his hand as soon as he enters the kitchen, put there by a leggy brunette with the tips of her hair dyed red and her lips painted to match. “You must be the fresh meat.”

“Ruby,” comes the stern name, and Killian glances at Emma. She’s standing at the sink, her sweater tied around her waist and yellow rubber gloves on her hands. Her hair is tied back but falling in her eyes as she turns to narrow her eyes at the other woman. “Hi Killian, ignore her. You’re not up for slaughter. It’s just been a few years since anyone new came to dinner and that was long enough for her to forget her manners.”

“All’s well, love. I’m much tougher than I look. Is there anything I can help with?”

“Nope,” Mary Margaret says as she appears out of nowhere, her exuberant personality shining in the overheated kitchen. “David and Henry are in the den with some friends. Why don’t you go join them and I’ll call you if I need anything?”

He nods, giving a slightly suspicious look to Ruby who is still sizing him up. He catches Emma’s eyes when she glances over her shoulder and winks at her. Well, he tries to wink. It’s more a weird, delayed blink where one eye shuts more and faster than the other, but her lips turn up and it almost looks like she’s blushing when she turns back to her task.

While he exits the kitchen to join the others in the direction that Mary Margaret indicated, he slows his pace when he’s on the other side of the swinging door, just managing to hear a snappy “Ruby, don’t start. And don’t touch,” from Emma before he continues to his destination. He smiles to himself, continuing on to meet the others.

There’s a suspicious thing that happens every time Killian is near Emma: he forgets about the songs in his head, he forgets that there’s a soul mate out there for him, and he forgets most of his other sensibilities. Instead, he’s enchanted by Emma in every way. Her laugh is her own form of music, and in a dining room full of her friends and son, it’s one she sings every few minutes.

He’s already interacted with Henry plenty. The young lad is talented beyond his second-grade years, and he’s happily picked up every instrument in Killian’s music classes. More than that, he’s always marveled at how Henry treats him as if he were an equal. And he writes songs – lyrics and poems, pages full of his scrawly handwriting, notes hastily written down to catch them as if they were running out of his head – and he’s brought them to Killian to ask for his help. The boy is brilliant and funny and Killian now knows that he gets much of that from his mother.

He and Emma find themselves on a covered couch in the Nolan’s three-season room, each with a steaming mug in their hands as Emma sips from her standard hot chocolate and Killian drinks coffee, and he tells her all about his adventures with her son. Said son is in the den, curled up on the loveseat in a post-turkey food coma. Roland is draped over the arm of the same chair, his toddler body too exhausted from the sheer amount of food he consumed.

The rest of the adults are in various places around the house, telling stories or cleaning up, but he’s lucked out because it’s just Emma by his side, their conversation quiet and her thigh warm where it presses against his. Beyond the vinyl covered windows, the wind is gusting, but Killian feels more comfortable out here than he did in the house, as overheated as it was from the oven being on all day.

“The cheesy potatoes were really good, by the way,” Emma says between topics. “They’re my favorite.”

“Mary Margaret said as much. I’m glad they pass the test, Swan.” He wonders if there will ever be occasion for him to make them again, if this is not the last of the cluster-family meals he’ll get to enjoy, but that feels like he’s getting ahead of himself.

There’s another comfortable lull in conversation before Emma speaks again. “You’re really great with Henry, you know.”

“He’s an exceptional young man, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. He’s quite the writer, as well.”

She chuckles at that, shaking her head knowingly. “He has been since he started talking. He told his own bedtime stories. Started making up songs before he knew what some words even meant. I don’t know where I went right with him, but clearly I’ve done some good.”

“I’d say you’ve done a lot of good, love. We aren’t supposed to claim favorites, but he’s mine. Without a doubt.”

“You’re his favorite teacher, but don’t tell Mary Margaret that. She’d be heart broken,” she whispers conspiratorially.

Their conversation turns to the upcoming holidays, and the Celebration of the Season pageant they’ll have before they break for Christmas and New Year.

“Henry will be playing a solo. I don’t know if he’s told you that, but the other kids wouldn’t even audition because they heard him play.”

“He doesn’t let me listen while he practices. He wants me to be surprised,” she informs him, her smile going affectionate around the edges. “Listen,” she starts.

“Swan,” he says at the same time, and they stare at each other for a moment in the dim lighting from the windows above their heads.

She leans in first, her lips catching his in a soft kiss. He thinks he hears the soft strains of Etta James in his head, but he’s too focused on the way her hand is slipping around to the back of his neck, her fingers sliding into the hair that rests just above the collar of his sweater, to really be sure. His thoughts fly far away when she breaks away to set down her mug, and he does the same just before both of her hands are framing his face and she’s kissing him again, harder this time, more tongue involved, and he’s not sure he’s ever tasted anything as sweet as her kiss, nor is he sure he’ll ever replace it in his life.

One minute she’s almost climbing into his lap, and the next she’s pulled away, her forehead pressed against his for the length of a heartbeat or twenty.

“That was…”

“I gotta go. I have to get Henry home. Um, have a good night, Killian.”

She snatches her mug from the wicker table as she goes, and then she’s back in the house.

It’s partly because he’s stunned, and partly because he recognizes her need to run that leaves him sitting there until he hears Henry’s voice. Then, he slowly wanders in, lifting his hand instead of saying goodbye as her eyes dart to meet his. Henry ambles over, rubbing his eyes and giving Killian a sleepy hug around the waist.

“See you Monday,” he says, his eyes barely open as he looks at Killian. He gives the boy a small smile, placing his hands over his shoulders to return the hug. He chances a glance at Emma, whose furrowed brow and torn expression says everything he needs to know.

“Go on, lad. Your mother is waiting. I’ll see you in class.”

He watches as Henry shuffles off, grabbing Emma’s hand as soon as he’s close enough. With her son’s hand tucked in her right hand, and a bag of leftovers in the left, they head out into the cold November evening and Killian is left standing in the foyer, wondering just what happened.

Adagio

She’s an idiot. More than that, she’s a fucking idiot. No regular idiocy here. This is next-level idiot shit, Emma Swan.

For at least the tenth time today, Emma smacks her forehead onto the laminate surface of her desk.

“Are you okay?” And for at least the tenth time today, David looks like she’s going to explode into a million pieces if he looks at her the wrong way.

“I’m fine,” she groans out. “Just tired. I couldn’t sleep last night.”

“Too much sweet potato pie? Because that was my problem.”

“David, I didn’t get any sweet potato pie because you ate it all before Mary Margaret could offer it to anyone else.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” is his firm retort. “But seriously. Is everything okay? I’ve never seen you hit your head this much after a holiday.”

“Yeah, I’ve just… I’ve got a lot on my mind. But it’ll be okay.”

When she seems unwilling to talk anymore, David finally returns to his own work, allowing the quiet of Friday rest between them. Normally, in other parts of the country, everyone is out in shopping-mode. Thankfully, Storybrooke is not a big town. They don’t see the same crowds or hype that exists in other cities. So, instead of dealing with endless calls about fights, riots, and misdemeanors, they’re sitting around the station while the rest of their meager police force sleeps in.

She wasn’t lying about not sleeping. All night, she laid in bed staring at the ceiling waiting for some answer to fall from the plaster above her head. Either that or she hoped the actual plaster would fall and knock her memories loose so she would never have to remember what it’s like to kiss Killian Jones, to feel how soft his hair is, to see that confused and slightly heartbroken expression on his face as she ushered Henry out the door as fast as she could.

It's what she does: Emma gets scared, Emma runs. As sure as the clock moves forward or the trees bloom in spring, this is her pattern. Worse than just knowing her biggest flaw, there’s another downside to her rash decision to kiss the hell out of Killian last night. She has a soul mate, and said guy has been listening to sad music for at least an hour, the soulful jazz solos echoing around her brain with no escape.

There’s always the white noise trick; she can always just imagine TV fuzz again, or the weather alert sound, anything that might work to eliminate the notes that have invaded her mind. Anything has to be better than feeling whatever her soul mate is feeling for whatever reason. Why is he so down in the dumps? She thought things were going well? Can he tell that she kissed someone else? That she has (and here she swallows audibly, as if facing down the firing squad of her own mind) feelings for someone else?

No, she could drown him out, but this is her penance for kissing Killian. This is her punishment for hurting two men in one shot.

She does her best to avoid Killian over the next few weeks, but it’s hard when she’s walking through the doors of the elementary school and Killian is there, handing her a program with a subdued smile. He opens his mouth to say something, but another mother all but pushes her out of the way.

“You’ve done such a great thing here, Mr. Jones. It must be so tiring making all the arrangements for this event on your own, and coming up with educational ways to represent all the winter holidays.”

From a few feet away, Emma fiddles with her purse, trying to look back over her shoulder to see what Killian’s face looks like, but he’s mostly turned away from her at this point and she’s mad at herself for caring. The woman that bumped her keeps rambling on, and she has a hand on Killian’s bicep, squeezing it like she’s sizing it up or claiming him for herself, and it dawns on Emma that she has no right to be protective or jealous or have any feelings one way or the other about Killian. They kissed, she had an opportunity, and she ran from it like he set her on fire. Which, to be fair, he had… metaphorically, of course.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to come to our place for the holidays, since I know your family is still over in England?”

They are? What family does Killian have? Jesus, she made out with him and she knows nothing about him and she wants to feel the right to be upset that he might accept an offer to spend his holidays with another – she turns to subtly check out the hand that’s now caressing his bicep – single mother and her child? It might really be time to focus on her soul mate and set aside any other thoughts of Killian.

“Well,” Killian starts, and Emma moves. She marches straight out of earshot and into the auditorium, working her way to her seat quickly. There’s an adorable little section for parents, and Emma smiles as she finds her spot, sandwiched between Mary Margaret and the new art teacher, Ashley. She’ll have to thank Mary Margaret later for the attention to detail, putting her next to other teachers instead of the other parents of the PTA that glare at her when she can’t be there on time because one of their punk kids spray-painted the windows of Mr. Gold’s pawn shop again.

Mary Margaret doesn’t get to slide into her own seat until just before the lights dim out and the curtain goes up, so Emma makes a mental note to mention it later. Then, she’s lost in the world of holidays, of different upbringings and traditions, and lost in the ideals of kids who are still too young to be bitter, or worried, or exclusionary for the sake of making themselves feel better.

And then comes Henry’s solo, which fills Emma with more love for her child, which she didn’t even think was possible, but there it is. His little fingers work the strings of a ukulele like he’s been playing his whole life, instead of for the last three months, and his young voice floats through the auditorium, strong and sure. The lights illuminate the rest of the stage, where the other kids wait to join in, and as their voices all join together she has to fight herself to not cry. It’s the most innocent rendition of “Auld Lang Syne” she’s ever heard, and she’s captivated watching them sing a song that she would be hard-pressed to sing, even if she were sober on New Year’s.

It’s halfway through the song when Emma realizes that she’s hearing it, but she’s also hearing it echoed in her mind. He’s here. Her soul mate is at this very event, somewhere in this auditorium. But he’s closer, which doesn’t even seem possible when Emma is just about on top of the stage. She’s tempted to stand up and start wandering the rows to find him, but it would probably be rude to start asking each man in the front three rows if they’re her soulmate. So she has to wait, instead refocusing her attentions to the kids on the stage, joining in the standing ovation that the small auditorium gives to the final performance of the night.

The lights go up after the curtain call, and parents and families start wandering towards the exits to wait for their children and mingle with friends. Mary Margaret disappears to go corral people towards punch and cookies that they’ve provided, and to hawk the DVD they’ll be making available to purchase. Emma, meanwhile, lingers around her seat, checking for any songs in her head. She keeps “Auld Lang Syne” in her mind, a soft memory of the music she just heard, hoping to find someone with the same nostalgia in their expression.

None of the other men in the auditorium seem to notice her, though. They all seem to be taken, holding hands with other men and women and talking about how well their children performed. Throwing in the towel, she heads backstage to see if she can catch Henry before he enters the swarm out in the lobby, so maybe they can sneak out the back and head home, instead.

She finds him back there, all right, but he’s not alone. Killian helps him pack away his ukulele, apparently on loan from the man himself, and Emma lurks around the doorframe to eavesdrop.

“That was even better than in rehearsals,” Killian comments as he hands Henry the carry case for the instrument. “I’m incredibly proud of you, lad.”

“Thanks, Mr. Jones. Are you gonna be at the Nolan Christmas party?”

“Well, I’m going to try, but even if I can’t make it, we still have lessons starting up right after the new year begins to look forward to, aye?”

“Yeah, I guess. You make the parties more fun, and Mom really seemed to like it when you were there for Thanksgiving.”

Emma’s face goes red, thinking again of just how much she enjoyed Killian being at Thanksgiving dinner. And not just because of the kiss, even though that was definitely a highlight. She’s so lost in the memories of the way he kissed her back that she misses whatever Killian says in response, and she’s scrambling away from the doorway just in time to make it look like she’s just arriving as their voices get closer to the door. She no sooner feigns a brisk pace towards the door, making sure her boots thwack the tiles a little for emphasis, before they exit the staging area.

“Henry! There you are!” She beams at her son, bundling him close without jostling the instrument strapped over his shoulder. Henry smiles up at her, accepting the brief fawning from Emma as she ruffles his hair, taps his nose with her index finger, and frames his face with her hands. “I am so proud of you, kid. You did great up there.”

“Thanks, Mom. Goodnight, Mr. Jones,” Henry says, turning to wave at his teacher, and it takes Emma that long to realize she was pretending a little too well like he wasn’t there. Killian, however, is just leaning against the door frame, observing the two of them interact. There’s a smile on his face, one that’s soft and dreamy as he looks at the easy affection between mother and son, and then one with a slight edge of mischief when his eyes meet hers.

He only holds her gaze for a second, looking back to Henry. “Goodnight, lad. Good job.”

Henry smiles at the praise, thanking his teacher one last time before pleading with Emma to go find his friends really quick. It’s only after she’s sent him on his way that she realizes she’s cornered herself alone with Killian once more.

“That was a great concert, Killian. I should probably…”

“Swan, would you go on a date with me sometime?”

“I don’t – I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“And why not, just so I know? If you’ve got a valid reason for turning me down, then I’ll be on my way and never ask again.”

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. So, she just closes it once more. A minute passes. Maybe two. Maybe it just feels like that amount of time because she’s pretty sure they’re both holding their breath.

The jovial look he’d had on his face when Emma first walked up disappears as they stand there in the suffocating silence at the stage entrance. He reaches up to scratch behind his ear as the last of the smile fades. Finally, he looks away from her, and seems to focus on anything but her. “I’ll be on my way, then. Having no answer instead of an honest one hurts just as much, it seems.”

If she’s lying to herself, she’ll say she tries to stop him. But he turns to head backstage, and she makes no attempt to call him back or follow him. She just turns, and walks on autopilot until she finds Henry. She thinks she interacts with a couple people, but mostly she just slowly angles them out the doors to her old Bug, with no further goal in mind than getting them home.

“I fucked up,” she says out loud as she lies awake in bed that night. It’s only 10:30pm, so she reaches for her phone and types the same three words to Mary Margaret.

“We’ll fix it in the morning,” is her friend’s immediate response, like she knows exactly what Emma is going through, like she’s in on what Emma has done.

(She should’ve known better; Mary Margaret already knows that she’s fallen for Killian, and has a list of ideas ready when she walks through the door the following morning.)

Sonata

“So, as I was saying,” Mary Margaret continues once a gaggle of school children run past them on the way to Winter Break Freedom. “I didn’t realize that Emma’s name got left out of our gift exchange. And since you’re not going home for the holidays, I was wondering if you would buy her gift.”

“I don’t know if that’s a wise choice,” Killian admits, standing still and looking forward as the busses file out of the parking lot. He watches as his breath clouds in front of him, tries not to think of at least three beautiful things he could easily buy for the beautiful woman. He couldn’t help that every time he went shopping that he found things that suited her. For the record, none of them are under the recommended $25 spending limit.

“Killian, I promise. She’s the easiest one to shop for. If you just get her some kind of gourmet hot chocolate, she won’t care who gave it to her, she’ll just be eternally grateful.”

 He bites back a couple curses, aware of the sparse amount of children still running out to be picked up by their parents. He does grumble a good time or two under his breath before finally turning to look at Mary Margaret.

 A sigh, and then he finally responds. “As you wish,” he tells her.

 “No, as she wishes.”

 This feels like a terrible idea.

 It’s halfway through the Christmas party that he realizes he’s yet to see Emma at all, which doesn’t bode well. Henry is wandering from group to group, a smile on his face and candy canes in his hand to pass out to guests. The young Roland is toddling after him, a dimpled smile on his face everytime he looks up at another adult, who in turn hands him a candy cane simply for being adorable. It’s after their second circuit of the room that Killian realizes there might only be four candy canes in the whole house.

 His casserole dish with the cheesy potatoes is mixed with the other dishes brought by guests, but Killian avoids them as he snags another roll from the basket, tucking it into his napkin before he refills his rum and finds a corner quiet enough for his thoughts.

 That is how he ends up on the same side porch where Emma kissed him, tearing apart the dinner roll and sipping his rum in between bites. The thoughts all muddle in his head, leaving him somber and wistful all at the same time, and all he can focus on is the soft notes of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” that reach this far beyond the walls of the house. With the bread gone, he rests his head back against the siding on the house and contemplates what the year has given him.

 Really, it’s not even the year that’s brought him much, it’s been the last few months. It brought him Henry in his classroom again, and Emma into his life, no matter how much that pricks at his heart right now. He was pulled into this family that adopted him as if he was any brother or sister or whatever he might be called, which is touching, especially with is own brother so far away.

 Something clatters back inside, and Killian is jolted out of his thoughts to a startling revelation. The music is not loud enough to be heard all the way out here. Which means…

 Which means that his bloody soulmate is at this party. He downs the last sip of his rum and carefully maneuvers himself back inside, skirting discussions and party jokes, clasping Mary Margaret’s elbow briefly with a smile as they pass each other. There’s something that looks like hope in his fellow instructor’s eyes, and she inclines her chin to point him down the hallway towards the stairs that lead upstairs.

 He nods once, giving her a smile of reassurance as he moves off in the direction she sends him in. It’s just a matter of making his way up the carpeted steps, his feet muffled by the fibers underneath. He concentrates a little harder on the song in his head, listening for the music to get louder both physically and mentally before stopping in front of a plain door at the end of the hall. He tests the doorknob, feeling relief when it turns, and swings open the door.

 The study is small, with a desk and chair, a computer playing Christmas tunes at a level just loud enough to be heard from the hallway but still not enough to drown out the party below. The decor is pretty simple otherwise, including an armchair in the corner, where he’s surprised to find Emma, her face buried in her hands but otherwise not seeming in distress.

 What would Emma be doing…?

 Oh. Oh! His eyes go wide at the notion, and Killian takes a chance to test his theory while there’s still time to back out of the room without her seeing him. He thinks the song as calmly as he can, keeping up with the words even when she gasps and lifts her head, blinking as she looks at him.

 “Oh, thank goodness, it is you.”

 She sighs in relief and moves to stand, and he’s still trying so hard to catch up on everything that’s just been revealed that he’s momentarily and happily stunned when she briskly walks across the room and kisses him like there’s no tomorrow. Thankfully, his mind kicks over to autopilot while he focuses instead on kissing her back. The rest can be figured and sorted later; this is a more important task at the moment.

 The fabric of Emma’s dress is warm beneath his hands, and he wants to take a moment to appreciate the sight before him, but when he pulls back to do just that, she’s right there again drawing him back in. She’s humming the tune of the song playing on the computer as she carefully kisses along his cheek, and he closes his eyes to soak it all in as he hears it in his mind and echoed all around him.

 After a period of time just short of indecent, they finally pull apart, resting their foreheads together while they both smile in the afterglow of a really perfect kiss. He shakes his head in wonder, and Emma’s smile widens before she laughs. It’s a sound he recognizes now, a music of her own bouncing from his mind to hers and echoing back to him, and he marvels again at how blind they must’ve been for all these months.

 “How did you figure it out, Swan?”

 “The only person that could’ve been closer to the holiday show’s music would’ve been the person behind stage. Mary Margaret helped me come to that conclusion. I think she’s suspected since the first time she heard me whine about the infamous music lesson that shall not be named,” she says, tilting her head to the side with a touch of a wry expression that brings to mind the beginning of all of this.

 “Ah yes, of course. Also labeled as my least favorite week in September.”

 “With a little bit of thought, it was easy from there. The fight song after you went to your first football game, the way I wouldn’t hear the music if I was spending time with you,” she recounts, and pauses as she traces her thumbs over his cheekbones. “There was the sad jazz music after I kissed you and ran. I was convinced my soulmate somehow knew I’d kissed another man that I was crushing on and he could tell.”

 “How silly it all seems now,” he remarks, taking the time to map her face with his eyes, to move one of his hands up to stroke through her hair as they consider all that this revelation brings. He skips back a step into the conversation, the smirk unrestrained and his eyebrow jumping up as he questions here. “Already had a bit of a crush on me then, aye?”

 “Nope. Maybe I changed my mind.” She says it while pinching his side, and he chuckles as he gathers her close again. “What do you say, Swan, would you like to be my date for the evening?”

 “Depends on what you got me for secret Santa,” she quips, pushing up a little onto her toes to kiss him again, quick and solid and just about the most affectionate thing he’s ever felt.

 “It’s not much of a secret if you already know it’s from me.”

 “Yeah, well, Mary Margaret also didn’t leave my name out on accident, if you know what I mean.” She gives him a wink, a true and proper one that makes his a pale joke in comparison. She tugs on his hand, leading him out of the room to join the party, where no one looks remotely surprised to see their hands linked together at any opportunity they can take.

 At the end of the night, Killian has the pleasure of driving Emma and Henry home. She sneaks him one last, goodnight kiss before she shuts the door and trails after Henry. About the same time he’s pulling back up his driveway, he can hear the happy little notes of “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” filtering into his mind. He’s already excited that he’ll have a date for that evening, and a good idea of who he’ll be kissing at midnight.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cs ff au #cs christmas fic #cs soulmates au #sarah writes ff #<3<3

[ohmightydevviepuu]

writers month prompts

day fifteen:  soulmate AU where you’re losing the distinction between reality and dreams because when you’re asleep, you actually relive your past life, and you’re not sure if you’d much rather stay in the past or in the present anymore.  [source]

a/n:  halfway there!  take this leap with me, fam.  i promise, this is the beginning of the end.

--

She woke up and felt someone’s arms around her, a soothing voice murmuring against her ear.

Mom.

Emma’s exhale was long and deep as her body sagged, relieved of the tension she’d been carrying, and immediately slipped back into sleep.  

She walked—she watched herself walk—her long, golden hair swept up above her shoulders, her dress the bright living red of a perfect rose (the rose he had brought her), the waist fitted, the skirt flared.  His hand just so on the small of her back.

(She could still feel it there, if she let herself.)

He was tall, slim, like a prince in a fairy tale and when he bowed over her outstretched hand he called her “Your Highness.”

(The first time anyone had.)

It was as she reached for him that she woke again, Mary Margaret’s hand in hers.

“She’s awake.”  Her mother sounded tired, and relieved.  But there was something—off?

Emma opened one eye, cautiously; the room was bright, so white as to be blinding.  

The woman hovering over her was Mary Margaret Blanchard.

Just Mary Margaret Blanchard.

She was wan and small in ways that Snow White never was, or had been.  Her eyes were clouded and her face looked impossibly young.  The peridot heirloom ring from Emma’s grandmother was on Mary Margaret’s third finger, not her fourth.

“Where’s Killian?” Emma whispered.

Emma wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, either.  Desperately, she reached up to her neck for a chain that wasn’t there and felt only the swan in its place.

“Mo—Mary Margaret?”

“Who’s Killian?” Mary Margaret asked, her eyes widening.  “Emma, I know what you said about scratching itches, but you were with Graham last night.”  She whispered that last, as if someone might overhear.

Emma tried to sit upright so suddenly that she nearly knocked Mary Margaret off of her and that was when she realized she was in a hospital.

“Graham—”

Graham’s dead.

But something about the look in Mary Margaret’s eyes made her close her mouth and lie back down.  When her friend—not her mother—called for Dr. Whale and an injection of something, all Emma felt was relief.

In her dream, the beanstalk rose above her.  

Above them.

Emma watched herself climb it and felt his hand wrapped around hers and his breath across her palm.  Her blood, as red as the rose, and sparks where they touched, green and white.

She found herself fighting wakefulness as Mary Margaret shook her, gently.  The sparks faded and left Emma feeling dull.  Graham Humbert in his uniform was sitting next to her mo—to Mary Margaret, and Emma managed not to shudder or shake, or to feel the ache for his loss that still sometimes overcame her.  She simply stared, dully, at a ghost who was somehow quite real.

Are you quite real?

She dreamt of the Darkness and what it had wrought, of the life draining from Killian’s body, of her mother’s arms around her as she wept.  She dreamt of the ice wall and of his fingers in hers as he carried her home.  She shivered from the cold and it was still a disappointment to wake up in the warm, too-bright daylight and Mary Margaret’s worried face and her Storybrooke Hospital volunteer badge.

There was a mirror behind her:  A sad, dull, lifeless reflection.

Smash the mirror.

“You keep crying out,” Mary Margaret said.  “Emma, whoever this Killian person is—he’s not here.  I’m worried about you.”

Smash the mirror smash the mirror smash the mirror smash the mirror smash the mirror smash the—

But all Emma would say was, “I’d like to go back to sleep now.”

She dreamt of the mirror, a yellow ribbon around her wrist, the feeling of his heart in her hands.  Beating, oh, beating—in the way that Graham Humbert’s never would again.  Magic that flowed between them as he kissed her, the broken pieces of the shattered spell around them, jagged edges and impervious surfaces.

Infinite reflections, but this—him—it was more real than any of those broken but discernible images.

That night, Emma Swan did not wake up.

--

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @katie-dub @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @kmomof4 @mariakov81 @shireness-says @onceratheart18 @the-darkdragonfly

#cs fic #writers month 2021 #soulmate AU #yes really