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andydrysdalerogers · 2 years

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Where is Home? (Chris Evans)

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Words: 3.7K ish

Songs: Bring Me Love - John Legend

Summary: Its Christmas Eve and you are just trying to make your flight home to Boston. And of course nothing goes right. Especially when you accidentally insult a fellow Bostonian… one of its more famous ones…

Warnings: smut, drinking, minor angst,

Banner made by @firefly-graphics

A/N: I wrote this for a Christmas 2021 prompt however this tweet inspired me to share it now. Read on, it’ll make sense…

RIP iPhone 6.

It’s like a scene from a damn Christmas movie. You are running though the concord of the airport in Chicago, desperate to make it to the gate of your flight. Boston, your final destination, in sight.

“Excuse me, pardon me,” you say as you weave in and out of the crowd. “64B,” you chant as you look for the right gate. Of course, it’s the one farthest from you but you haul ass, not wanting to miss this flight.

Which you do because the universe just likes to fuck with you.

You see the plane roll back from the window and you let the lone tear roll down your check.

“Is it gone?” You hear from behind you. You wipe the tear, ignore the question and start to talk to the gate attendant to see what you can do to get home. Hoping there is a flight in the next few hours. And there is nothing. You would have to wait until the morning to get onto another flight to Boston. The other attendant is explaining the same things to a man in a cap standing next to you. A Boston boy from the looks of it, with his Sox cap low on his brow and a Patriots hoodie underneath a leather jacket.

“That’s brave,” you say under your breath as you wait for the attendant to book your seat and give you a replacement ticket.

“What is?”

Shit, he heard you. But you put on a brave face.

“Wearing all that Boston shit in a town that loves its team and hates ours.” You offer a smirk at your words. You’re a Boston girl through and through and while you work in Chicago, home is where your family is, in Boston.

“Every city hates our teams, that’s just facts,” he replies, still looking down at what you assume is his phone. Small thing, as you look at it and realized…

“Are you still rocking an iPhone 6?”

You look away and try to not slam your head into the counter. Your filter was usually better but that one slipped. The attendant slides you your ticket and an offer for a hotel, which you accept. You thank them and start to move towards the front of the airport to catch a cab. You have 18 hours before your 6 am flight and you might as well rest in said hotel room.

You moved through the crowd, not as fast this time. Just walking away from your disappointment at the flight and your awkward interaction with a fellow Bostonian. Lost in thought, make a mental note to call your mom, you feel a hand at your elbow, stopping you. “Is there a problem with my iPhone 6?”

You look at the hand holding you and look up and are hit with what has to be the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen. You stumble back and realize you had insulted not just a Bostonian but one of the more famous ones. “There’s nothin’ wrong with it. Just didn’t realize people held on to old tech for so long anymore.”

Chris Evans stared at you longer than you knew was appropriate. He knew you from somewhere but couldn’t place it. The curve of your face, your hair, the lips that really captured his attention were all just so familiar. He was finally able to formulate a response. “I don’t want to lose the pictures I have. And why change something when it ain’t broke? Is that good enough for ya, sweetheart?”

The one thing you missed about Boston was that accent. That damn drawl that always made you weak in the knees. How every word had its own pronunciation that, as the reporter that you were, had to lose so that the good people of Chicago could understand you. But it slipped out of you to reply. “Yea, its good enough. Sorry.” You shrugged out of his grasp. Or tried to as he held you tighter.

“I know you.”

What a statement. From a stranger.

“No, you don’t. Let me go please.” You tried to pull away. “I’m a nobody.”

But he held you tighter. And then realization hits him. And he lets go. “You’re a reporter.”

“One in the same. Its YN. See you around Mr. Evans.” And you take off. But he’s hot on your heels. And grabs you again. Obviously not learning from the mistake. You stop and look at his hand again. He lets go but stammers, “I’m so sorry. Please don’t report this.”

You laugh. “You obviously don’t know what I report. It ain’t Hollywood news.”

He smiles. “I know that. I mean I know what you do. You’re good. Really good. Been watching Hawks games just to listen to your broadcasting.”

You flush. Being the rink reporter for the Blackhawks was your dream job. Getting to talk to the players, giving insight to the game, showing off your knowledge for the sport that you love, it was almost perfect. It would be perfect in Boston. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles that radiant smile that truly made every girl swoon. “You’re from Boston?”

“Yea, trying to go home for Christmas.”

“So you aren’t going be on for the next few games.” He is enamored with you although you feel like he’s just interrogating you at this point.

“Ahh, no. Missing the Kings and Knights but I will be on for the Boston game.”

“At home? You are?”

You flush again. He was genuinely interested. In the middle of an airport. You look around and he can sense the problem. Too open, too public. “Right. Drink?”

You shook your head. “I was headed to my hotel. Can’t fly home until tomorrow.”

“The Hilton?” He gave the name of the hotel with a tilt of his head.

“Yeah, take advantage of the free room.”

“Me too. So, drink at the hotel bar?” He looked hopeful. “Share a cab there and back in the morning?”

Chris Evans is asking you to go out for a drink.

Who are you to be impolite? “Sure,” you said hesitantly.

Chris smiled big again. He offered his arm this time. You looped it through, and he guided you out to the private car that was waiting.

“I thought you said cab,” you said accusingly, eyes narrowing.

“C’mon, would you have said yes if I said I had a private car?”

He wasn’t wrong. You shook your head, and he opened the door. You slid into the town car and all the way over. He got in right behind you and asked the driver to take you to the airport Hilton. 10 minutes later, you climbed out and headed in, removing your heavy coat.

Chris hung back as you checked into your room. Dressed in black and gray, he admired how your black turtleneck was tight around the curves of your torso, your grey pencil skirt wrapped your ass perfectly, stopping just above your knees. Your legs covered in what he assumed were stockings that tucked into the black boots you wore. He observed your necklace, a watch, and earrings but no rings. He saw you turn back to him, room key sliding into your pocket. He took in your face again. Simple, classic, hair up in a ponytail, beautiful.

He moved to check in and asked for a room right next to yours. But you were too busy looking down, fiddling with your watch, a nervous habit, to overhear the request.

“Ready?”

You looked up to his crystal blue eyes. “Yeah, what floor?”

“10.”

“Same.” You roll your eyes at the coincidence.

You headed into the elevator, trying to maintain some space. Because the man is intoxicating all by himself. He had shed himself of his leather jacket, staying in the Boston hoodie and hat. The beard was neat and trimmed. He let go of his rollaway to stretch for a moment, his sweater raising slowing along with his shirt. She could see a flash of taut skin right above his jeans and a red belt standing out. You looked away and tried not to blush. A flash of desire ran through your body when thoughts of what he could do with that belt ran in your mind. Jesus, had it really been that long?

Chris knew what he was doing. You were sexy as hell, a little Aphrodite, drawing him in. She was a pistol, he thought. Perfect, Boston bound, into sports and sassy.

They made it to their individual rooms and went into. The room was simple, just the necessities. Bed, TV, towels and an extra door. Odd, you thought, but whatever. You went to the bathroom and washed your face, reapplied some of the makeup and went to lay down. The bed was comfortable at least. You almost dozed until you heard a knock. You went to the door but found no one there. But the knock came again. You looked at the extra door. And again, there was a knock. You opened and there stood Chris, void of his sweater this time, just a black t-shirt, jeans, the red belt, hat and boots. He smiled when you answered. “Ready for that drink?”

“Sure,” you grabbed your purse as he entered your room. You made sure you had your room key and headed downstairs. As soon as the elevator doors opened, Chris placed his hand on the small of your back and guided you to the hotel bar. Seated at a table in the corner, a waiter came by. You ordered a gin martini and Chris ordered a beer.

“How long have you been in Chicago?”

“Three years. Being a commentator for a hockey club had been my dream for years. Its almost perfect.”

“How is it not perfect?” Chris leaned in to hear you.

“Because it’s not Boston.” The drinks made it to the table, and you took a sip, needing the liquid courage.

“I mean I get why Boston is so awesome. But why?”

“Home is where my family is. My home is in Boston. I wouldn’t have to travel so much. Maybe I could settle down and have my own family.” He opened his mouth to speak but you stopped him. “I get it, I could do that in Chicago but,” you sigh, “it’s not Boston.”

He stared at you again. You really were perfect. “So, you are commentating in Boston?”

“Yeah, for a try out. If I can nail it, I can move for the next season.” You stare off in the distance, watching the highlights for last nights game.

“So why wait until Christmas Eve to travel?”

“Why did ya wait?” Your accent showing though.

Chris laughed hard. “Yea, I guess I earned that one. I had a meeting with a producer and a shoot for an ad. Guess I just didn’t plan it correctly.”

“At least you’re honest. A headline for a story during my next broadcast. Captain America is bad at planning.” You waived your hand like seeing a banner. “Breaking News at 11.” You giggle and Chris laughs with you.

“Sweetheart, you know you will blow all the fans out of the water with that. He is the man with a plan.”

“A badly executed plan but whatever.” You take another sip. Chris watches as your cheeks become rosier with the alcohol, just adding to the beauty of your face.

“You didn’t answer my question, sweetheart. Why wait until Christmas Eve?”

“I had the game last night and then I figured I just fly in like Santa. It wasn’t a bad plan until my ex decided to show up at my apartment. Six months later and you would think he would get it in his thick skull we were done.” This statement caused you to down your martini.

“Its what you get for dating a Chicago boy.” Chris tsked at you.

“That’s fair.”

The drinks kept going, Chris insisting next that you should eat. You got to know Chris better over a Christmas Eve dinner of pretzels and mozzarella sticks.

“If you could have one wish for Christmas that would absolutely come true, what would it be?” you ask.

He sat back and looked at you. He took a long swallow of beer. “I would like to find a girl and have her raise a family with me in Sudbury. I’ve been lookin’ and I can’t seem to find the right one.”

You could see the regret in his eyes, of not having the dream. But you understood, its what you wanted. You didn’t say anything, knowing anything you said would just be taken as either sympathetic or made him feel like shit.

Chris cleared his throat. “How about you? Any wish?”

“It’s the same as you. Wish I could find that too. My problem is that most guys can’t handle a woman who would be the bread winner. They would want me to change my career or be a stay at home. I worked really hard to get here. I wouldn’t want to change it for the world.”

“I can see that. Sucks because there is nothing sexier than a woman in charge.” He sent you a smirk that had you been standing, would have made you weak in the knees.

He continued to get to know you. But when you looked at it said 9PM on your watch, you decided to call it a night. He walked you back to your room and rubbed his neck as you tried to open the door. Finally successful, you turned to look at him. The Adonis in front of you. “Thank you for making this Christmas Eve ok, since we couldn’t be with our families.”

“It was my pleasure, YN. See you in the morning for that ride?”

“Yes, of course.” And you slid into your room. You checked your phone, and you had a video message from your mom.

We miss you tonight, but we can’t see you tomorrow, your family said together. All of them jammed into the video.

You felt the tear fall. You missed your family but you knew, 12 more hours and you would be home. You changed into your silk pajama top and shorts and got ready to climb into bed, setting an alarm to get you up. You let the emotions wash over you, your pillow now wet with your tears. A knock startled you and you knew it was Chris. Without thinking, you opened the door.

And he was standing there like before. Except there were only abs that you could see, the jeans hanging low with that damn red belt still looped around. You swallowed and looked up at Chris.

“Are you ok?”

You nod. “I just miss home,” you say. “Its been a long year and I’m feeling more alone.” You wipe your tears away. “Did you need something Chris?”

“I needed to do this before I lost my nerve,” he said. He put his hand on your neck and pulled you in for a kiss that should have set you on fire. His lips moved perfectly against yours, and he ran his tongue on your lips, asking for entrance. You let him in, and you could taste the beer he was drinking. You moaned and pressed yourself against him. He wrapped his arms around you, needing you closer. Finally, you came up for air. He pressed his forehead to yours, not wanting to let go.

“Chris,” you whispered, “what are you doing?”

“You’re perfect, YN. And you are everything I have been looking for.” He kissed you again gently.

Your mind swirled, still slightly inebriated from the martinis but now drunk on Chris. “I…”

“Spend the night with me sweetheart. I wanna wake up on Christmas with you.”

Fourteen words. Fourteen indications that this wasn’t a dream. He was perfect, everything about him was perfect.

“Yes.”

Its all he needed. He grabbed the key card you left on the dresser, picked you up behind your thighs and took you into his room. He sat while you straddled him and kissed him again.

This has to be the craziest thing you ever done.

A one-night stand with Chris Evans.

You let it go, not wanting to dwell on the fact you would only get this man for one night. And he can sense that you are getting nervous or worried. He pulled back, to look at your eyes, lust blown, void of makeup, even more beautiful than he can imagine.

“Be with me.”

It’s a ghost of a whisper you think you can hear before he attacks your neck with kisses and gentle bites. You relish in the attention, never wanting it to end. You grind down into his lap and his growls, feeling your heat on his cock. He stands, lifting you at the same time and turning to lay you down on his bed. The silk top slides slightly, giving him a peek at your hardening nipple. He groaned and bit the nub through the silk, enjoying the moan he pulled from you.

“Be with me.”

You can’t focus on the words as he plays with your body, knowing exactly how to make you squirm and moan, as if he has known it for your entire life. You are his guitar, playing the notes to bring you out. When he skated over your shorts on your clit, you cry out in ecstasy, the sensation already building in your core.

Chris kneels down at the edge of the bed and let’s his fingers play with the top of your shorts, looking up at you, waiting. You nod, no words needed to give permission. He kisses your belly button and then around your hip bones, softly, feather like as he slowly pulls down your shorts. His mouth moves to kiss your thighs, skipping where you now needed him. "Chris," you whisper.

“So fakin’ beautiful,” you hear as he places the first kiss, you want to cry out again but you cover your mouth. “Don’t hold back,” he says, “I want to hear you.” His tongue licked up your slit, taking no mercy. He needed taste you, feel you, make you his.

“Oh god, please.” You squirmed and Chris laid a heavy arm over your abdomen, pinning you to the mattress. “Chris, please.”

“Tell me what you want, gorgeous.” He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t want to.

“I need you.” You just had to be honest. You wanted him. But was it just for the night or forever? Suddenly Boston was even more important. Because Boston was home. And he was at home.

He slipped up to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. And you feel like you are hearing things.

“Be with me.”

No, its still a dream. Until…

“Come home with me.”

It’s the siren’s call you needed. And then Chris thrusted into you, and you cried, tears of joy at the fullness, the pure, raw power he used to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. He waited for you to be comfortable before you tilted your hips up and he moved. Slowly at first and then harder, with more passion than you have ever felt. He hid his face in your neck, listening to you sigh in his ear, you listen to the little grunts he gave.

He could feel you tighten around him. Heaven, pure heaven. You fit together like puzzle pieces. He never wanted to leave. “Baby, tell me you’re close?”

“So close, oh, so close.”

“Good.” He sped up and nibbled on your neck. That was your undoing. You came with a long moan, quivering and pulsing around him. It took two, three more thrusts before he came as well. He slowed his movements, riding out the high. He lifted up to see your blissful expression, matching his own. And he says it louder…

“Be with me.”

You know you heard it this time. What was he doing? “Chris?”

“I found you and I don’t want to let go. Come home with me.” He gave little Eskimo kisses, causing you to giggle. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Logic comes to your brain. “I live in Chicago.”

“And I have a feeling you’ll nail your audition for Boston. If not,” he sighed, “I guess I need a better coat for Chicago.”

“Chicago?”

“Because you’re right. Home is where your family is. But right now, home is also where you are. I don’t want you to change who you are. Because I’m falling for the girl who is who she is.”

You start to get up; the sudden declaration makes you nervous. How could someone fall so hard so fast? You reach for your clothes. But it hits you. He’s everything you ever wanted. He didn’t want to change you, just adapt with you. And it makes you ache. Because home is where he is. You turn to face him, seeing his face look sad at the thought of you leaving. But you lean in and press a kiss to his nose, causing him to smile. “I’m not saying that I would change my world for you, I’m just changing my perspective. But maybe we could give us a chance.”

He smiles and kisses you, bring you back down to the bed. The clock hits midnight. Its still like a Christmas movie, finding love on Christmas.

The morning comes too quickly, waking in each other’s arms. You and Chris head back to the airport, holding hands.

What a difference 18 hours makes.

Chris talks to the attendant and gets you seated together in first class. It’s a quick flight, just over two hours. But he never let’s go, afraid you’ll disappear. As the plane begins to land at snowy Logan International, he turns to you. “Please don’t leave me.”

You cup his cheek and smile. “Home… is wherever you are.” You kiss him gently. “Ready to meet my dad?”

He leans into your warmth. “Ready to meet Scott?” He kisses your palm as you nod. And he looks into your eyes. “I finally found my home… with you.”

#andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #chris evans x you #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans au #chris evans story #Christmas was Chris #nothing against Chicago #home is wherever i'm with you #home is where you are #rip iphone 6

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mystical-flute · 9 months

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Home is Wherever I'm With You: Chapter 11

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The war with Regina was finally over, and King George was defeated as well, which was a huge weight off David’s shoulders. Though Snow knew the truth of who he was, it was nice to know that the one person would could - and would relish in - ruin it for the rest of the kingdom was no longer an issue, having been locked in a dungeon and guarded by residents of the kingdom who were more than happy to see him rot. Even if George did spill the beans, David couldn’t help but wonder who would actually look worse: The man who who had been pulled from poverty and whose mother was slain in order to keep up the charade up, or the man who had run his kingdom into poverty and had pulled wool over the eyes of his kingdom for years with senseless wars and violence?

David sighed and gazed out at the forest as dawn broke over the horizon, and leaned against the balcony railing. His mother would have loved it here, with the large pastures and the availability of food, and Snow, of course. He would have loved being able to get to know Snow and everyone else they’d fought with.

Ruth could have been the mother Snow never had.

David’s heart ached at the thought.

“CHARMING!” Snow shouted, breaking him of his thoughts.

He raced back into their bedroom, the balcony doors slamming shut behind him as he looked at his wife, who was tangled up in the bedsheets. “Snow! My God, what happened? Was it another nightmare in the Netherworld?”

Snow placed a hand on her chest, taking deep breaths to try to steady her panicked heart. “Sort of… I met someone else there. Charming, he said his name was James, that he was George’s son and… and he looked just like you.”

David felt the color drain from his face. “What? How could that be possible? James died! That’s why I was dragged into this whole mess to begin with!”

“Well apparently he didn’t, David! Apparently he’s still in a sleeping curse!”

“We have to find him. Did he say where he was?”

“His best guess was somewhere in the palace. He said he remembered his guards grabbing him as he fell.”

“Then that’s where we search,” David said, light on his feet as he moved toward the door. “We’ll tear this castle apart until he’s found.”

His brother was alive… there would be issues they had to deal with in the aftermath of James waking up, but David couldn’t think of that right now.

He needed to save him first.

-----

“Well, I guess I can’t deny you being my brother, can I?” David - because apparently that was his name - laughed as he looked at the identical man in the chair next to his hospital bed. “Can I ask where my scar came from though?”

“Oh, you wiped out on a bike,” Elijah Nolan replied with a shrug. “We were teenagers, just graduated from high school and we were excited and started our celebration early. It wasn’t a big deal but Mom thought you were going to bleed out.” There was a fondness in Elijah’s voice and eyes that suggested their mother was no longer alive, but still, he wanted to know.

“What happened to her? Mom?”

Elijah sighed. “Cancer. She fought like a champ but…”

David nodded. “I figured it was something like that. Was she a good mother?”

“The best. She was a single mother to identical twins who ran her ragged,” Elijah said with a laugh. “We didn’t have much, but she made sure we never felt like we were missing anything growing up, you know?”

David nodded and smiled weakly. “Sounds like we were quite the pair.” A noise from the doorway had him glancing up. “Ah, Kathryn.”

“Morning David. Elijah.”

Something weird flickered between the two of them, but both quickly masked it as Kathryn approached the bed, a small box in her hand.

“I found this at Mr. Gold’s. He said it belonged to your mother, so I’m hoping it might trigger something.”

“Our mom?” Elijah questioned. “Wait, you don’t mean - ”

David opened the box, revealing a necklace inside. Oh, yes, he did remember this! It was one of his mother’s most prized possessions, one she never took off, except to give to Snow -

Wait, Snow? Who was -

Searing pain suddenly flooded his head as memories burst through his mind. Two sets of them - one of a fantastic, magical forest that had him married to the love of his life with a child on the way, and ending with a sword fight in front of a wooden, magical wardrobe, and he heard himself whisper “find us” before everything went dark. Those memories faded into ones from a much more mundane world. The life of a man who worked at a vet office as a technician, who was married to a lawyer (but not the same woman from the magical world, not the wife that had felt familiar…), but the memories soured quickly with the reveal of an affair, of shattered dreams and broken promises and then once again, everything went dark.

Prince Charming and David Nolan both gasped and clutched at his head as everything settled like water after a ship had gone through it.

“David?” Abigail - Kathryn - asked. “Are you okay?”

No, he wasn’t okay, and it was obvious as he lifted his head from his hands. “You two slept together. That’s why I got into the accident.”

James - Elijah - winced and stood up, going to the door. “Yeah. We did. I’m just uh, gonna go get Dr. Whale and see if he can get you anything for your headache.”

The Charming side of him knew he couldn’t be mad because none of this was real - hell, he didn’t even know if James and Abigail had even met before James had fallen under the sleeping curse, but the David Nolan side of him was fuming and wanted to be left alone.

“Yes, I slept with your brother. David, I’m so sorry. Can we - can’t we work through this? After all, you almost died!”

“How can I look past you sleeping with my identical twin, Kathryn?” He hated that he felt like he needed to be angry here, but pressed on. “I’m sorry, but when I’m cleared, I want to continue the divorce. Please leave.”

And she did, tears in her eyes as she left the room with her things.

David sighed and dropped his head in his hands. Clearly, this was the Land Without Magic that the curse brought them to. Clearly, someone had wanted him awake and remembering the Enchanted Forest.

But who was it? And why did they want him aware?

----

Neal looked up at the loud thud that suddenly hit the table. Rather than a textbook, he saw Henry sitting in front of a large storybook, with “Once Upon a Time” written in gold lettering.

Well now, this couldn’t possibly be good.

“Hey kid, what’s that you’ve got there?” he asked casually, setting his camera down.

“It’s a book. Roxana asked me to keep it safe for her.”

Neal raised a brow. “Safe? From who?”

“Her mom.”

“Uh-huh, and why would her mom not want her reading fairy tales?”

“These aren’t just fairy tales, dad. Every story in this book actually happened. See? Look.” Henry paused to flip through the book, stopping at the end. On the page was Emma as a baby, wrapped in the purple blanket she’d had her whole life. “Mom’s the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. She’s the one meant to break the curse on the town!”

Neal sighed and put his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “I know bud. I know all about the curse. I just didn’t know it left such a big clue as to how to break it.” A very big, very obvious clue that could very easily end up in the wrong hands if they weren’t careful.

Henry nodded. “It’s cool, right? Roxana doesn’t trust her mom though, so she gave the book to me to keep it safe.”

“And Roxana’s mom is the Evil Queen who sent everyone here.”

Henry nodded. “Yeah! How did you know?”

Neal exhaled through his nose and flipped through the book, finally landing on his story. “Your grandfather and I have talked about it before. We’ve been trying to think of ways for your mom to start believing in the curse.”

“What have you come up with so far?”

“Be watchful of the things happening in town, try to invoke change slowly.”

“That’s not going to help break the curse!”

Neal raised a brow. “No? Then what will?”

“We have to force change to happen. We have to make people see that something is wrong here! Dad, these people are cursed, we can’t just force them to keep living that way!”

Neal shook his head. “Henry, you know Roxana’s mom is the Evil Queen. Doing anything too flashy will catch her attention. And she has the power to ground Roxana and make it so you can’t see her anymore.”

Henry seemed to understand that, at least, and frowned a little. “Yeah… I guess you’re right. But then how can we make mom understand that the curse is real?”

“Little details that… maybe don’t add up. There could be people around here besides her parents that might have stories that mirror the Enchanted Forest, or - ”

“Hey guys, I’m home!” Emma suddenly called, the door slamming shut behind her. Neal could tell there was a groan in her voice.

He closed Henry’s book and glanced in the direction of the front door. “Hey Emma. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just a long day,” she replied. Neal didn’t miss the way she wrinkled her nose at the sight of Roxana’s book. “I - ah, had to help track down a pregnant girl. Apparently she’d made a deal with your dad to adopt the baby out and she changed her mind and was afraid to tell him, so she was going to run. Poor kid has it rough. Her stepmother and stepsister hate her, and I guess she works overtime at the laundromat to try to make ends meet. Turns out her other stepsister is Parrish’s wife, so I left when she got there. On the upside, Graham offered me a job as a deputy.”

“Did you take it?”

Emma sighed. “Yeah, I figured if I’m going to track down people in Storybrooke, I might as well get paid for it.”

Neal laughed. “Yeah, I hear you. I was thinking of getting some of my pictures printed to sell at the Miner’s Day festival. Maybe one day I can get a storefront in town.” Not that it would be hard given who his father was, but given no one knew their relation, he planned to do things on his own.

Emma smiled, looking more genuine than she did when they had to deal with curious neighbors or the people of Storybrooke in general. “That’ll be good. I’m sure you’ll sell out without issue. Especially your pictures of the city.”

“Hopefully. What happened with Papa and the girl?”

“He let Ashley out of her contract… though he may have had some influence from me. The best part is, her boyfriend stepped up. I told them they could come to us if they needed anything, since we were their age when Henry was born,” Emma explained, ruffling Henry’s hair with a smile. “Oh, and David Nolan apparently got his memories back. He said it was thanks to something at your dad’s shop. Pretty wild how fast it happened.”

Neal let out a nervous chuckle. “Almost like magic, huh?”

She snorted. “Yeah. Just like magic. Too bad we can’t use it to finish painting the house, huh?”

“Ah, we’ll be finished tomorrow. C’mon, we wanted breakfast for dinner, right? I’ll get it started.”

When Emma’s back turned, he gave a thumbs up to Henry, who looked over the moon at the mention of David’s memories coming back.

The change would be slow, but it would be worth it.

Right?

----

“How long has it been since you’ve been here?” Will asked as the carriage rolled down the winding roads of the kingdom of Senaela.

“Not since Thomas’ ball,” Ana replied with a sigh. “I doubt Ella even knows anything that happened after Thomas tracked her down with that shoe.”

A shoe. A simple, non-magical shoe had been the reason her mother’s plans had come crashing down. Now that she was out of her mother’s terrible grasp and free to make her own way in the world, the thought of it having been a glass slipper to shatter her mother’s hopes and dreams made her laugh.

“I think Ella’ll be surprised to see that you became the Queen of Wonderland,” Will said. “Funny that the two daughters Beatrice hated the most ended up becoming royalty.”

“It is. Honestly, I should have known she hated me when she named me Clorinda of all things,” Ana sighed, slipping a silver mask on as the carriage slowed to a stop. Wonderland royals always wore them while meeting with royals from the Enchanted Forest. Ana had no idea why that was, but she was already on shaky ground with the Wonderland subjects, so she didn’t want to risk them finding out they hadn’t worn the masks and trying to overthrow them.

“Your majesties, welcome to Senaela. We are thrilled you accepted our invitation to the ball. It has been many years since we’ve had anyone from Wonderland here,” King Herman said when they were led into the palace.

“Thank you for the invitation. We are honored to be here,” Ana replied. “Tell me, where is the happy mother-to-be? I would like to give her my gift in private.”

“Ah, I believe she’s still getting ready. One of our guards will take you to her,” Herman said, gesturing for a guard to do just that.

“Princess Ella? The White Queen wishes to speak with you.”

“Send her in. Thank you.”

Ana stepped into the room, gift in hand and smiling as she gazed at her stepsister. “I see life has been most fair to you, Ella.”

Ella seemed a little troubled if she was being honest, but said nothing about it. “Thank you. What did you want to see me about?”

“Can’t a sister want her gift opened privately?”

Ella froze, eyes wide. “Sister? You can’t be - ”

“Tell me, how did my mother and Tisby react to my escape from this realm? I hope Mother was terrified.”

“Cl-Clorinda?”

Ana removed the mask with a smile. “It’s Anastasia now, darling.”

Tears filled Ella’s eyes as she rushed to hug her. “Anastasia, oh gods, we thought you were dead! What happened to you? How did you end up in Wonderland?”

“Do you remember Will Scarlet? The rogue who ran around with the Merry Men?”

Ella nodded.

“After you left, Mother turned her ire toward me instead, so I ran away with Will. We had a little cottage together, just the two of us, but Mother made it difficult for us to live a normal life. She kept trying to drag us into everything that happened with you. So Will, he - he stole a looking glass from a witch named Maleficent. It brought us to Wonderland, and I… did some things I’m not exactly proud of to end up on the throne. But Will brought me back from the edge, before I lost myself completely, and here we are,” she shrugged. Probably best not to tell Ella that she had, in fact, died. “But you don’t have to worry now, I’m here and I’m fine. And I have a gift for your new bundle of joy.”

Ella smiled, pulling the wrapping off the box. “Well, thank you Anastasia. Wait - is this…?”

“Yeah. The little dancer statue your mother made for you.”

Ella held it like it was the most precious thing in the world. “Where did - where did you find it? I thought your mother got rid of it years ago!”

“Having an ex-thief as a husband comes in handy sometimes,” Ana replied. “He found it on one of his raids with the Merry Men and brought it to me, but I knew you should be the one to have it, not me.”

“This is the best gift we’ve gotten for the baby. Thank you so much.”

“Think nothing of it, darling. I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more to stop my mother from treating you as a maid.”

Ella shook her head. “Don’t be. You were kind to me despite her twisted teachings. I don’t know what happened to them, by the way. King Herman banished them from the kingdom after everything came to light. He made sure they weren’t welcome in Misthaven either, so I don’t know where they went. Maybe east to Maldonia?”

Ana’s lips pressed together. Hopefully her mother wouldn’t be able to sink her claws into any of King Anthony’s officials. “Right, well, that’s a shame. Are you ready to go downstairs? I’m sure Will has talked Herman and Thomas’ ears off by now.”

Ella smiled and set the dancer down on a shelf. “Of course. And Anastasia?”

“Hm?”

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

Ana smiled. “Me too.”

The two stepsisters, once bitter rivals, stepped out of the nursery with their arms linked, a force of solidarity between the two that made King Herman even more delighted with his daughter-in-law. All was well, until a few days after the ball…

The White King had vanished while they’d been hosting their old friends Alice and Cyrus, leading to a frantic search among the group. The search had felt hopeless, until a mysterious looking glass appeared in the throne room.

“I hear you’re looking for a knave,” the woman dressed in black said.

In the background, Will struggled in the grip of a woman with short dark hair. “Anastasia, don’t - argh!”

“WILL!”

“If you don’t want your knave hurt, you’ll come here, dear White Queen,” the first woman said with a smirk. “I trust you know how a looking glass works.”

And Anastasia didn’t hesitate, even as Alice and Cyrus tried to pull her back.

She stepped through the glass and glanced around at the group of women surrounding a large bonfire. Will was on the ground, injured, but conscious. That was good, at least.

“What do you want? Who even are you?” she asked, looking at the woman in the black dress who had spoken to her.

“My name is Regina. My… friends and I are planning something wonderful,” Regina said with a small, twisted smile. “But we need your help. You are someone who has been brought back from death, aren’t you?”

“Wh - how would you have known that?”

“You would be amazed what news travels between the realms,” Regina replied with a shrug. “All we need is just a drop of your blood for our curse, and your knave will be released to you so you can be together in our final moments in this land.”

“Curse?” she heard Alice ask from behind them. “What sort of curse are you talking about?”

“It will take us to the Land Without Magic, and no, Alice Liddell, I do not mean yours,” another woman - that Ana recognized as Queen Nerissa of Andalasia - said. “This land has no connection to looking glasses, no magic beans, no hats. Magic there is merely a story parents tell their children at night.”

“And if you don’t willingly give us your blood, Anastasia, we’ll just kill all of you and take it anyway,” another woman that Anastasia didn’t recognize, said with a shrug.

Nerissa scoffed. “Madalena! There is a child present!”

Gods, Alice and Cyrus had done a lot of dumb things since she’d known them, but bringing their daughter here had to be the dumbest.

“If I give you my blood, I want something in exchange,” she said, looking at Regina. She seemed to be the ringleader here, so she must have been the one she needed to appeal to. “I want your word that in this world, Will and I, and Alice, Cyrus, and Amara, are happy and safe from those who might wish us harm. My mother is the former Lady Tremaine - ” She ignored the look of alarm from the other woman she didn’t recognize. “- I do not want anything to do with her in any world. Can you guarantee our happiness in the Land Without Magic?”

“I can,” Regina said. “Rest assured, you will be safe and happy in that world.”

Anastasia withdrew the small knife she kept holstered to her thigh. “Then fine, darling. You win.” She made a small cut on her palm, letting the blood drip onto the raging fire, watching in horror as it turned a sickening mixture of black, green, and purple, a tower of smoke lifting high into the air and billowing around them, before they were swallowed by it, dragged from everything they knew and loved.

When she awoke the next morning, The White Queen was Bridget Parrish, co-owner of Storybrooke Books with Jonah Anderson, and the wife of Storybrooke’s co-sheriff.

#ouat #swanfire #ouat fanfiction #home is wherever i'm with you

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