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exhaustedpirate · 29 days

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competitive much?

welcome, friends, to my first attempt (of many?) at smut writing! let's all collectively thank @kmomof4 for making this as satisfying as possible for all of you to read!

rated E | 5634 words

also on AO3

summary: Emma Swan had been pining for Killian Jones for years. Who knew that all she needed to take that next step was having to share a bed with him?

Of course there was only one bed. The universe truly hated Emma Swan. And now, Emma Swan was doomed to share a bed with Killian Jones - the man she’s been pining after for years.

He had been a gentleman about it because that’s who he was - offering to sleep on the floor or find another motel. But it was late, and they had been driving for hours with a few more still ahead of them before they reached their destination. So she had refused, telling him that they were adults and deserved a proper night's rest and she was sure they could keep their hands to themselves.

His smirk told her that he probably didn’t believe her but she ignored it, not wanting to let it slip that when around him she had plenty of experience containing herself. Even if he often made it hard on her, flaunting his chest with his barely buttoned shirts and his legs and backside with the impossibly tight trousers he liked to wear.

Bad train of thought, Emma. Don’t think about Killian’s bulge in tight trousers before you get into bed with him.

Share a bed with him.

She shook her head as she finished her nightly routine in the bathroom. He was likely doing the same in the room and nope, she wasn’t going to think about Killian Jones stripping a few feet away from her. Nope.

Emma cursed herself for her choice of pajama set. Not only was she sharing a bed with Killian Jones but she was doing it in a thin white tank top and sleep shorts. This was a recipe for disaster.

Maybe he’d like what he saw. Her hands ran over her hair, pulling sections over her shoulders and noticing the way goosebumps rose on her chest at the sensation. Would he notice that she wasn’t wearing a bra?

Bad Emma. Focus.

God, what was this man doing to her? They had known each other for years and she knew he was hot, and that his hands felt amazing on her skin and that he was warm when he hugged her and-

Focus!

She took a deep breath and stopped herself from fluffing her hair by gathering it up and tying it with a hair tie instead. Emma walked out of the bathroom coming face to face with Killian’s bare chest. She held back a groan by making eye contact with him. Well, his eyes were several inches away from hers but she wasn’t going to complain at the way he blatantly looked over her body.

“No shirt, Jones?” She was proud at how steady her voice sounded and she covered her chest with her arms, wanting to do everything she could to make this less awkward.

Her voice seemed to bring him out of his thoughts as he shook his head and finally looked at her, his cheeks reddening. “Apologies, Swan, I didn’t plan to ahh… share a bed with you tonight, so I didn’t bring a sleep shirt.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, nodding at his matching reasoning. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, we’ll just keep to our sides.” She gave a final nod before approaching the bed to pull the covers away.

He followed her to the bed and stood on the other side. “I’m not responsible for what might happen, should you invade my space.” A slow, sensuous smile stretched over his lips, a smile full of danger and promise on the face of a man who, she knew, wouldn’t touch her without her permission.

She smirked in response. “Right, like you could handle it.”

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

Her eyes stared into his, at the desire telegraphed in his stare, at the way his tongue ran over his bottom lip. But no, she couldn’t. They couldn’t. Right?

They were coworkers and friends and she trusted him. What if it went wrong? Yeah, even that excuse was sounding weaker and weaker the longer she stood there staring at him.

But friends don’t share beds and she was sure that this was breaking any and all rules she forced herself to comply with. Truth was, she wanted him. More than wanted him. Had fallen for him years ago and she was… 90% sure he wanted her, too.

He was waiting.

Waiting for her.

Not the right time.

He could plainly see her shut down as they faced each other, his understanding eyes and compliant sigh hurting her more than if he had simply walked away.

Would he get tired of waiting?

“Just stay on your side of the bed,” she huffed before she laid down on her side, her back to him, hands trapped under her pillow.

“As you wish.”

The words echoed in her brain as the bed dipped and the covers fell more comfortably over her. The room fell into darkness when he turned off the lamp on the bedside table. Emma felt the bed dip and move as Killian got comfortable on the uncomfortable bed and waited, waited to hear his breathing even out. It seemed to take forever, but once it did, she laid on her back, watching his moon-lit face as he slept on his side. He looked younger in his sleep. The frown that had been on his face before they went to bed disappeared and his lips were parted, looking so tantalizing she wanted to run her finger across them.

In the silence of the room, she heard the door from the next room open and close followed by the sound of giggling. Of course they had to share a wall with a happy couple. A very happy couple if the loud sounds of kissing reaching their room were any clue.

The springs of the bed next door creaked as the couple likely fell together on it and she felt Killian’s breathing hitch and she closed her eyes worried he’d wake up to find her staring at him. But he didn’t and she waited as his breathing returned to normal. The hand not currently under his pillow lay flat on the space between their bodies, his fingers twitching minutely every now and then.

Emma’s chest was tight and she wanted.

She inched her hand towards his with the sounds of soft moans as background noise until she slithered it under his palm. They had held hands before but she knew this wouldn’t be like any of those other times, not when they were both in sleep clothes and sharing a bed. She inhaled sharply as his hand immediately covered hers, holding it as tight as a sleeping man could.

Their hands fit together like puzzle pieces and her thumb began to caress his skin. She heard him sigh at her touch, his eyes still closed. And she wanted more. Needed more.

Letting the couples’ noises in the next room inspire her, she slowly moved her body close to his, turning over so that her back was facing him, then even more slowly wrapping the arm she still held around her waist. She sighed deeply as she fit against his warm body, especially when he pulled her closer to him and they occupied the same space on the bed.

His other arm moved from under the pillow to slither under the curve of her neck giving her a different type of pillow. His hand, his empty hand, in her eyesight looked lonely and she used her free, empty hand to hold it. This wouldn’t be manageable for long but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of him, not when she could feel his chest rise and fall against her back, his breath on her neck and the heat of his hands on both of hers.

Emma shut her eyes in contentment. She must have fallen asleep at least for a little while because, when she opened her eyes after a loud thump, she was holding his hand with her two hands, while his free arm was fully wrapped around her waist. His thumb was rubbing her torso in an absentminded manner and she wondered if he was awake.

As she became aware of her surroundings, she also noticed the progressively more passionate noises from the next room - their words of encouragement and moans electrifying every nerve ending in her body. The headboard began thumping on their shared wall making Emma’s imagination run wild. The woman screamed and she felt Killian’s hand grip her hip tightly. Were the same images running through his brain?

She pushed her hips back and barely contained her gasp at the feel of his erect cock against her ass. His grip on her hip faltered as a stuttered moan passed his lips, his obvious desire fighting against his good form that she knew governed his actions at all times.

But she didn’t want good form. She wanted him.

Her hips moved in a slower rhythm to the thumping on the walls and his hand found her stomach. He clenched the hand she was still holding and she thought he might be asking her to stop, saying no but when she clenched back, she heard a relieved sigh behind her and felt his hand inching up until his fingers touched the underside of her breast. Her breathing hitched at the soft touch and she gripped the sheets with one of her hands, her hips losing their rhythm against his. A groan, louder than the others, his groan, sounded in her ear. The hand at her stomach moved up, cupping her whole breast. An impulsive moan escaped her lips as the rough thumb began to rub against her hardened nipple.

“Emma…”

Her hips stuttered again against him at the wrecked voice in her ear. A soft whimper fell from her lips as the hand at her breast pinched her nipple before melting into a sigh when his lips began whispering kisses to the skin of her neck.

The sounds coming from the next room grew louder, the thumping faster and Emma followed, a tightening in her lower belly at the unmistakable sounds of pleasure coupled with the ministrations on her body from the man she couldn’t stop thinking about. His lips grew greedier, switching between open mouth kisses and nibbles on her sensitive flesh.

The lovers in the next room climaxed and Emma hoped her moan of Killian’s name had been lost in their screams. But the sharp pinch of his fingers on her nipple and the insistent grind of his length against her told her it wasn’t. His responding moan had her tilt her neck back to give his lips more space.

“I want you, Emma.”

His whisper in her ear had goosebumps rise all over her flesh. Shivers ran down her body as his hand left her breast, slowly caressing her stomach on its way down. Her whole body itched, yearning for his touch.

“May I touch you?”

She wanted to respond with sarcasm, wanted to tell him that he was already touching her but she knew what he was asking, especially as his pinky inched its way under the elastic of her sleep shorts. Her hips moved, greedy for his touch, but his hand remained unmoving, waiting. He would always wait for her.

“Please…” It was all she could say. She felt as though she would break if he didn’t touch her.

“Please, what?” His lips were on her ear, his teeth on the skin of her earlobe. “Do you want me to touch you?”

Her nod was vigorous as his ring finger followed his pinky. He flexed his fingers, scratching her skin and fanning the flames consuming her body.

“I need to hear you say it.”

Her mouth opened as he pulled her earlobe into his mouth, nibbling it and taking her breath away. He pulled her hips closer to his with the hand at her lower belly and she couldn’t think. Couldn’t think of anything else but him and the promises she knew he would fulfill.

“I want you to touch me, Killian. I need you to tou-”

Her words were stolen from her mouth in a gasp as his hand covered her mound, his fingers running up and down her wet folds. His groan washed over her whole body as he used his other arm to pull her closer to him, their bodies flush from shoulders to hips. His hand found the breast he abandoned and her mouth opened in a low, drawn out moan, her head tilting into his shoulder.

“You’re so wet,” Killian whispered against her ear, his voice sounding completely wrecked, her hands gripping the sheets, wanting more and more but unable to ask for it. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this, to feel you like this.”

Gathering the wetness between her folds, his fingers moved up to circle over her clit, her hands shaking in desperation, her breathing quickening at the ecstasy taking over her body.

“You feel so good, Emma. I knew you would,” he continued to whisper, his lips pressing soft kisses on her neck while his other hand played with her breast. His touches were soft, meant to bring her up slowly, to draw out her pleasure. “I’ve dreamed about this, about you, for so long.” His scruff scratched against her jawline as he began to whisper in her ear once more. “Dreamt about hearing you, kissing you, touching you.”

She gasped as his teeth nibbled her jawline, causing a quiet moan to slip out. Her brain was full of him, full of his touch, his words, his voice. But she wanted more. “I dreamt about you, too, Killian. I’ve wanted you to touch me for so long. I-”

Her babbling was interrupted by her loud moan when his fingers pinched her nipple and the fingers on his other hand sped up on her clit with tight circles. He didn’t stop even as she reached back to grab onto his hair or when she interlocked their fingers at her breast. He didn’t stop as she writhed against his hand or when her moans grew louder and louder as her orgasm crested and rippled over her from head to toe. He didn’t stop until she finally came down, breathing heavily against his chest, feeling her fast beating heart against their interlocked hands. She became aware of his lips kissing up and down her neck, keeping her body on edge and desperate for more.

“You’re so beautiful when you come, Emma,” he whispered in her ear, her hand in his hair less harsh as she combed through the soft strands. “I’ll forever remember the way you moaned my name. May I hear it again?”

Her body shivered as his fingers continued to move slowly and carefully up and down her folds. She gasped each time his rough fingers touched her clit.

“Killian…” she moaned, drawing it out almost obscenely when he put pressure on the area above her clit.

She’d never forget his responding growl as his lips latched onto her neck. She was sure that he was marking her skin, and her heart raced at the idea of having proof that this wasn’t another dream. But it wasn’t enough.

She moved her hand to the back of his neck, pulling until he lifted his head from her neck. The grip she had on his other hand loosened as she moved to her back, looking up to find his eyes. She could clearly see fear, worry, and desire battling for dominance. He kept his hand over her mound, unmoving, waiting as he watched her, the desire finally winning out, overwhelming the other emotions in his eyes. The same desire she was sure he could see in her own.

She pulled his head down to join their lips in a slow, passionate kiss. A kiss that served to keep the fire between them simmering as they got acquainted with every corner of their mouths. His hand flexed on her back and Emma arched into him. She didn’t want him to hold back. She needed him not to hold back.

“I need you to touch me, Killian,” she repeated against his lips, her hand grabbing onto his bicep, nails digging into his skin.

She would have to add his responding moan to her memory files, never wanting to forget the desire in his voice. His wet fingers gripped her hip as his other arm wrapped around her body to bring her closer to him before he captured her mouth with his. She let him take the lead, using the hand on the back of her head to position her in the best way to deepen the kiss.

The hand at her hip slid over her ass and she moaned against his lips at the way he gripped it, her leg hooking over his hip in response. She could feel his hard length pressed right where she wanted him. With her leg hooked over his thigh, Emma moved her hips against him, moaning at how good he felt but also at the way he held her tighter against him, their bodies now touching from head to hips.

Kissing him brought with it its own kind of pleasure, the way his tongue caressed hers, the feel of his lips on hers. She wanted more, craved more. Would never be satisfied no matter how long he kept touching her, how long he kept kissing her. She needed more.

Her teeth caught his bottom lip and she pulled carefully, relishing the vibration of his moan against her lips. Her fingers slid into the strands of his hair keeping him in place while her hand found its way inside his pants. He pulled his lips away from her to prolong his moan, the sound washing through her body.

“Emma…”

“Say my name again,” she whispered, wrapping her fingers around his length and stroking him slowly. His eyes opened sharply to look into hers and her breathing hitched, the blue gone as the black promised everything she ever wanted and more.

His hand moved under her shorts once more, slipping under her underwear. “Emma,” he moaned and her hand moved in time with his as he slipped his fingers between her folds once more. “Emma, Emma, Emma,” he moaned between kisses to her neck, her collarbones, the tops of her breasts.

“I need you naked, Jones.”

He groaned and she bit her lip at the lustful sound of it. She almost whimpered at the loss of his fingers, but she moaned instead as he licked his fingers clean, his eyes closing in pleasure.

“Gods, but you taste divine.” His nose rubbed against her neck and his lips followed, laying a kiss on the sensitive skin behind her ear. “I want to taste you.”

Her fingers clenched around his cock, imagining his dark head of hair buried between her thighs putting that talented tongue to work. But his hard length in her hand made her realize what she wanted first and foremost.

“Next time.” She smirked as his head pulled up sharply to look into her eyes, scrunching in pleasure at the way she tightened her hold on him in response.

“Next time?” he whispered and she could hear the uncertainty in his tone behind the lust, the way he was still waiting for her, still following her lead.

He’d allow her to keep this dalliance as a one-time thing, let her hide from this, from him, in her fear. But she would miss his touch, his kiss, his warmth and the fear that threatened to overwhelm turned into yearning. Deep, burning yearning, stronger than before, now that she knew how it felt to be held in his arms.

“Next time.” She nodded and smiled softly at the awe on his face. She ran her index finger over his slit, gathering the precum there and bringing it to her mouth. She closed her lips over her finger, closing her eyes as well and humming in pleasure at the taste of him. “I want you inside me now.”

Emma bit her lip in anticipation as he grabbed her wrists and trapped her hands on either side of her head. Her thighs rubbed together under his piercing gaze and she tilted her chin to welcome his desperate kiss. Almost immediately, Killian slowed the kiss, surprising her, softening his lips, even as his hips pressed urgently against hers.

He broke the kiss and she opened her eyes to find him watching her, his lust pushed aside. “Are you sure, Emma?”

His thumbs rubbed against her wrists and she could clearly see the vulnerability in his eyes, not sure he could believe her promise of a next time. He needed more. And she wanted to give it to him.

“Yeah.” She nodded, her lips curving in a smile. “I’m sure, Killian.”

She barely finished saying his name before his lips took over hers once more, the slant possessive, branding her as his. He laced their fingers together, and Emma realized this was already far better than any other encounter she’d had before. She wondered if it had anything to do with her feelings towards Killian Jones.

Any contemplation was erased from her mind at the feel of his thigh rubbing against her where she needed him most. “Please, Killian…” she moaned, moving her hips against it.

“I need you naked, Swan.” The grin was clear in his voice even with her eyes closed and she laughed delightedly.

She missed his hands on hers as soon as they were gone but she moved quickly to pull her top off. He watched her from where he sat back on his heels and an impatient growl burst from him as he pushed his sleep pants off. She did the same, just as impatient as he. She pulled her hair from the band slowly, running her fingers through it to loosen it.

His fingers replaced hers as soon as she finished, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling carefully but commandingly. She bit her lip then let it go with a moan as his lips connected with her exposed neck.

“Hmm, I love to hear you moan.” She can’t help but let out another one in response to his deep voice in her ear, her hands taking hold of his hips. “Do you like it when I pull your hair?”

“Yes.” A wave of lust gathered in her center at the clench of his fist, pulling her soft strands, the sting of pain bringing her more pleasure. “Do it again.”

His arm wound around her to pull her body against his, both of their breath hitching at the feel of their finally naked bodies against one another. Her hands found the skin of his back, digging her nails in when he pulled on her hair once more. She took hold of his perfect ass, giddy to finally being able to touch what he teased with every tight pair of trousers he wore. He pushed his hips forward, his length sliding against her wet folds, their matching gasps and sighs of pleasure loud in the otherwise quiet room.

The desire in his moan was overwhelming and she was sure hers matched his. Her hands ran up his back as he loosened his grip on her hair. She met his gaze and found an understanding and acceptance there that took her breath away.

“Next time?”

“Next time.”

They smiled in unison and this time, she initiated the kiss, melting in his arms as he maneuvered them into a lying position on the bed, his body covering hers. His hips ground against her as he kissed down her neck, his hand finding her breast, his fingers playing her like an instrument.

“Are you clean? I didn’t exactly pack condoms for a work trip,” Emma breathed, pulling on his hair when she didn't get an answer.

“Aye, sparkling.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed as he returned to her neck.

“Me, too.” She answered his unasked question and ground her hips against his length, an ecstatic moan pouring from her lips. “I also have an IUD, so…” He groaned at the implication in her words. “Don’t keep me waiting, Jones.”

“Wouldn’t dare.”

He took a deep breath, obviously aware of the monumental step they were about to take together. He met her gaze as his hand moved down to her most intimate place, his fingers running up and down her folds before two of his long fingers entered her at once. She bit her lip and began to ride them, but she wanted more. Just when she was about to ask, he added a third.

“Please, Killian, please.”

She was babbling, she knew it, and his chest was heaving above her. “Just wanted to make sure,” he mumbled.

Emma held her breath as he removed his fingers and stroked himself once, twice, three times, coating his cock with her wetness. She watched his hand for a moment longer before meeting his eyes. She nodded and he nodded back.

He positioned his hips against hers, guiding his length through her folds again, with more pressure this time. He was going to drive her absolutely mad, her moans loud every time the head brushed against her clit. “Killian…”

Her hands shook where they rested on his chest when he finally entered her in one slow thrust, her long moan matching his as he dropped his head to her shoulder. He held still for a moment, allowing her to adjust to this new feeling, to his size inside her. Her muscles clenched around him when she was ready for him to move and his groans reverberated against her skin. “I don’t know how long I’ll last,” he whispered, utterly wrecked. “You feel amazing, love.”

“Amazing,” she repeated, barely aware of his words, focused only on the way he filled her up.

He pressed soft kisses to her shoulder as his hips began to move with slow deep thrusts inside her. Her ankles wrapped around his hips as her hands grabbed onto the back of his neck and his bicep. His hips stuttered at the sensation, his teeth rasping against her skin.

“More,” she moaned, nails digging into his skin. Killian gave one hard thrust causing them both to moan loudly. “Yes, just like that.”

He growled and pulled his knees to rest on either side of her hips, the new angle having Emma grab onto his arms tightly. He continued the hard rhythm, his hips grinding against her clit with each thrust, her body shaking each time he found that place deep inside her that made her see stars. It had never felt like this before. So good, so full, so perfect. His arms slithered under hers to grab onto her shoulders, his groan loud against the skin of her shoulder. Distantly, she heard him spouting babbling praise, the squeaks of the bedsprings under her body, and the thumping of the headboard against the wall but it meant nothing when she felt it. Felt the imminent orgasm taking over.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders wanting to keep him as close as possible. It wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough. His fingers digging into her skin was the only warning she had before he spilled himself inside her, his orgasm triggering hers as she clenched around him. Her moans joined his in a decadent display of ultimate bliss. Time stood still and the world held its breath.

“Fuck,” he sighed, softening inside her and loosening his grip on her shoulders. But she wasn’t ready to let him go, forcing her body to keep him there, keep him close. “Emma…”

She hummed at the sound of her name, digging her fingers in his hair, shivering at the feel of his lips on her neck.

“Stay,” she murmured quietly.

His lips curved up against her skin at her request and she would feel embarrassed at her desperation if he didn’t tighten his hold on her just a little bit more.

“I’m not going anywhere, love,” he promised in a whisper against her ear. “But we should move.”

She whimpered in reluctant agreement, drawing it out into a whine when he slipped out of her. He kissed her temple and she tilted her head up, hands on his neck. He chuckled against her lips.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered before pressing their lips together again in a quick kiss.

Emma wanted to protest but she could barely move. She only managed to turn her head and open her eyes to watch his bare ass as he walked to the bathroom. She was right, she thought with a smirk, better out of his tight jeans. She bit her lip as she watched him walk back, wet washcloth in his hand.

He grinned at her. “Don’t look at me like that, Swan.” He knelt on the bed, his eyes on hers while he carefully ran the warm cloth on her sensitive area, causing her to shiver and sigh.

“Come lay with me for a bit?” she asked, her hand running languidly up and down his arm.

“As you wish.”

She let out an uncharacteristic giggle as he huffed in faux reluctance and laid down next to her. Emma sighed in contentment as he wrapped his arms around her, her head pillowed on his chest. She could hear his heart beating under her ear and she felt like she could stay in this moment forever.

“Me, too,” he sighed, making her realize she’d spoken out loud. He really did a number on her. “Never thought I’d have the opportunity, but I always imagined it’d feel like this.”

“Me, too.” She felt him tense underneath her and frowned in confusion. She set her chin on top of her crossed arms on his chest, and watched his wary expression. “What is it?”

His chest rose and fell in a deep breath. “I know we spoke about next time, but I don’t want us to just have this, love. I-” She waited for him to continue. It took a moment, but after a sigh, he spoke again. “I want more, I want everything with you. If you just want sex, I-I-”

She stopped him with her thumb on his bottom lip, unable to watch him worry, or despair, or to feel anything other than the happiness and pleasure they had found themselves in before. She replaced her finger with her lips, placing a soft chaste kiss there that had his arms wrapping tighter around her.

“I want everything, too,” she confessed, forcing herself to look into his eyes. And when she did, she was rewarded by the pure happiness that lit them up. “I’ve wanted it for a long time but I was afraid.”

“You’re not anymore?”

“I never had to be,” she answered with a frustrated sigh. “I was hiding behind my walls but it made me so unhappy.”

“What made you change your mind?”

She shook her head and bit her lip. “I don’t know. I saw you laying there, so peaceful and your hand was just there, so empty.” She felt his hand clench her hip and sighed at how full it must look now. “I was just tired of pushing my desires aside.”

His smile was as bright as the sun and he took hold of her jaw to lay a hard kiss on her lips, making her moan. “I’m glad you did. I have been waiting for you.”

She smiled back. “You always did.”

Her hands cupped his cheeks, bringing him up for a passionate kiss, designed to ignite her nerve endings, to bring back that telltale spark to her veins. She hummed against his lips as his other hand traveled down her back before stopping at her ass, his large hand cupping one cheek.

The thumping on the wall above their heads restarted causing both of them to break the kiss to look at it. Killian laughed before looking down at her, his hand squeezing her ass and causing her to wiggle against his touch.

“What do you say, love?” His grin was dangerous again but now she knew the promises it held and oh, that knowledge made it even more dangerous. “Think you can handle another round?”

“Question is,” she smirked, her thigh rubbing against his soft member. “Can you?”

She felt the warmth inside returning at the glint in his eyes. His hand reached below her ass to run a finger over her wettening folds, before bringing it back up to his lips.

“Maybe not now, but…” She shrieked in surprise when he quickly flipped them around, her back now against the mattress. “It’ll give me time to properly taste you.”

She rubbed her thighs together at the darkening of his eyes but he stopped them by forcing a knee in between. Emma bit her lip to silence a moan when he rubbed against her clit, igniting that fire once more. His thumb pulled her bottom lip from her teeth.

“I want you to be loud, love. Can you do that for me?” She inadvertently obeyed when he put more pressure against her most sensitive spot. “Just like that, let’s show them how it’s done.”

Her laugh was interrupted by a moan when his fingers replaced his thigh. “Competitive much?” she panted.

His grin split his face in half as he winked. “Oh, absolutely.”

Her breathy laughter followed his slow path down her body until all she could see was his dark hair between her thighs and all she felt was his mouth kissing her folds like he would her mouth. Any thoughts of competition flew out of her brain as she moaned and groaned and gripped and ground when he showed her just how talented his mouth really was.

They won, though.

#carolina writes #captainswan #smut #there was only one bed #friends to lovers #killian jones #emma swan #captain hook #once upon a time #ouat #ouat ff #cs ff

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cosette141 · 1 year

Text

Operation: Poptarts | OUAT fanfic

Fandom: Once Upon A Time Author: cosette141 Words: 1k Summary: Henry was mostly happy that Killian had moved in with him and Emma. His only reservation was that Killian won't stop throwing out his poptarts. S6 Captain Cobra

AO3

(under the cut!)

a/n: slight tag to "Dark Waters"/S6, when Killian threw out Henry's poptarts.

Henry was mostly happy that Killian had moved in with him and Emma.

It was nice most of the time, having Killian around. For one, Killian was a surprisingly good cook, and surprisingly organized, whereas even Henry was more organized than Emma. The house had never been cleaner since Killian had joined them.

The three of them had dinner together every time Henry wasn't with Regina, and they also had weekend movie nights per Henry's request, since Killian had much to catch up on in that regard. Killian's commentary over the movies and TV shows was usually more amusing than the actual films.

Not to mention the fact that having Killian around had also started to feel less like having his mother's boyfriend living with them, and more like a… father figure. No one would replace Henry's true father, but if anyone could, Henry could easily say that Killian was it.

Not that he was ready to admit that to the pirate just yet, but it was true all the same.

So, all in all, Henry was mostly happy that Killian had moved in with them.

There was, however, one thing that always put that mostly before happy.

And that had to do with his poptarts.

Or, more specifically, his lack of poptarts.

It all started the day that Killian had watched him during the time the Evil Queen was wreaking havoc over the town, and Killian had thrown out two perfectly good poptarts of Henry's.

If that was the only instance of this particular issue, Henry would have been fine with it.

Except, it wasn't.

The next morning, Henry had gone looking for the box of poptarts in the cupboard, knowing he'd had two packs left in it, but the whole box was gone.

When Henry inquired about it, Killian had informed him that the rubbish was gone, that it wasn't 'real food' and he couldn't knowingly let Henry go around eating it, and he'd made the three of them a fish breakfast.

Emma had given Henry an apologetic smile that she'd smoothly shifted to a fake-happy one to Killian when he'd looked in her direction, and Henry had swallowed his disappointment and eaten with them.

Instead of trying again, Henry decided to get a new box of poptarts, and hide them.

Which worked, for all of one day.

Because the next day when he had gone to his hiding spot, under his bed, he instead found a note reading: Can't hide anything from a pirate, mate.

Henry, however, did try.

At first, Henry was more than irritated about it, but it quickly became a challenge to find a place to successfully hide the sugary snacks away from the pirate. But no matter where he hid them, he would encounter a note in the place of each one, some of them congratulating him on getting better at hiding things.

It had shifted from an annoyance to almost like a game between the two of them as the weeks went by, something they'd never voice aloud, and something Emma stayed completely out of, though Henry often saw her rolling her eyes at them.

However, after nearly two months of the back and forth, Henry had finally found a hiding place that Killian didn't; a barely-noticeable loose floorboard in the attic, under two heavy boxes and cloaked in shadows.

For three days, Henry was able to enjoy poptarts without them disappearing.

And as exciting as it should have been, it was now a disappointment not to find a note in their place.

Henry pulled the box out from the floorboard, and stared at it for a moment, rather than taking one out to eat. He suddenly considered hiding it somewhere else that Killian would find it.

"This was a good place, but I'll remind you that you can't hide anything from a pirate, mate."

Henry jumped a mile in his skin, jerking to his feet and spinning around, knocking one of the storage boxes to the ground.

Because Killian was leaning against the doorway, watching him with an amused grin.

"You knew?!" exclaimed Henry, still breathless, his heart beating fast from the startle.

"Aye," said Killian with a chuckle. "A good pirate finds treasure by knowing well the person who has hidden it. And you, my boy, I know quite well."

Something about how Killian said that reminded Henry of how he'd once felt when Neal called Henry his son, his boy. Hearing it from Killian made Henry smile.

Killian lifted himself from the wall, saying, "However, this one did take me the longest to find." He took a few steps toward Henry, raising a brow at the box of poptarts. "You really find these worthy of such effort?"

Henry rolled his eyes. "Have you ever even tried one?"

Killian's raised brow turned to Henry, and there in his eyes was the obvious answer that no, he has not.

With a grin of his own, Henry pulled out a pack, and opened it. He gave Killian one, and took a bite out of one for himself. "Try it," said Henry.

Killian stared at it like it was a deal from Mr. Gold, but when Henry prompted it again, Killian looked at him. But then, something relented in the older man's eyes, as if he was just doing it for Henry, and he took it. Tentatively and quite reluctantly, Henry watched Killian take a small bite.

Henry stared at him expectantly. "Well?"

-././.

The next day, Henry looked up from where he was at the kitchen table, doing his homework, when Emma called his name. She was standing in front of the open cupboard, brows raised high.

"Yeah, Mom?" asked Henry distractedly.

Emma pulled out a box of poptarts. "Um," said Emma, brows still raised. "Really, kid? I don't think hiding it in plain sight will work." She gestured it to him like they were contraband. "Here, hide your poptarts somewhere better."

Henry looked up again, rolling his eyes. "Those aren't mine."

Emma's brows raised again, this time in puzzlement. "What?"

"They're Killian's," said Henry, amusement at his lips. At Emma's shock, he said, "I made him try one. Joke's on me, though, cause then he took the box from me and told me to 'stay the bloody hell away from them cause they're his now'."

Through her shock, Emma laughed. "You're kidding."

"I wish I was." said Henry through his grin.

Emma shook her head to herself, as if she knew she was surrounded by two idiots, and she moved to put them back in the cupboard.

But Henry suddenly had an idea.

"Wait," said Henry, getting up. Emma paused, and Henry held his hand out for the poptarts with a grin that he must have picked up from Killian. Emma seemed to notice the mischief in that look, and she smiled too, handing him the box.

It was time to get a little payback.

Still smiling, Henry ran off to find a hiding place that was even better than the attic before Killian came home.

-.-././.

Emma was in the kitchen when Killian came home that night, after he'd been out with Smee and a few of his crew for the day.

She and Killian greeted each other with a kiss and a brief chat about their days. But afterward, Emma saw Killian go to the cupboard where she'd found the box of poptarts. He opened it, about to reach inside when he paused, realizing it was gone.

He hesitated in confusion for a moment.

But then, a knowing look crossed his face.

And she watched him smile.

tag list: @kmomof4 @justanother-unluckysoul @klynn-stormz @stahlop @ilovemesomekillianjones @hookmecaptain @tiganasummertree @jadehowlettthewolf @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @pirateprincessofpizza @stahlop @snowbellewells @eddisfargo @motherkatereloyshipper

#captain swan #cs ff #captain cobra #killian jones #henry #ouat ff #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #cosette141 ffn #humor #fluff #poptarts

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grilledcheeseandguavajelly · 6 months

Text

It’s the way I was going to post my “wildest dreams” swanqueen headcanon/fic-thing today to celebrate the 1989 TV release and then completely chickened out 🙈

#swan queen #emma swan #regina mills #once upon a time #ouat #ouat fic #swanqueen fanfiction #sq ff #taylor swift #1989 taylor's version #ouat fanfiction #once upon a time fanfiction #ouat ff

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kazoosandfannypacks · 11 months

Text

Sleepwalking (CaptainSwan Drabble)

requested by @mousedetective

The bean in Killian's hand was once unobtainable, and now didn't feel obtained. But, here it was. To the bittersweet confusion of his crew, he stepped through its portal. He saw only Emma's face in his mind, carried through the haze to her door.

He knocked on the door desperately. The seconds until it opened were an eternity.

And when he saw her face, he knew it was worth the wait. She was worth the price, the heartache, the agony. For the first time in a year, he felt alive.

It was like waking up from a very bad dream.

a/n and tags under cut:

taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @pirateprincessofpizza @pawshapedheart [if you'd like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

A/N: Yeah, I couldn't listen to this song request and not think of the missing year in Season 3. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Send me a song and one of the tagged ships and I'll write a drabble!

#once upon a time #ouat #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #once upon a time season 3 #ouat fic #fanfic #fanfiction #cs ff #ouat ff #once upon a time fanfiction #missing moment #kazzy writes #the ol' kazzle drabble

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iverna · 1 year

Text

Holiday Subterfuge (CS one-shot)

Emma has been using her imaginary boyfriend as an excuse to get out of work-related socialising all year. But people are getting suspicious, so when it's time for the Christmas party, Emma makes a deal with a friend: he'll call, wearing his scrubs, pretending to be her boyfriend. It goes reasonably well until Killian Jones shows up. (Based on several prompts that sort of coalesced into... whatever this is. Yes, I wrote modern AU. 'tis the season, and all that.) rated G | ~ 2,700 words | read on ao3

This was a mistake. Emma suspected it was a mistake the second she agreed to it, but call her naive, she still had hope.

The plan was simple. She’s been using her non-existent boyfriend who works odd hours as an excuse to get out of after-work get-togethers, team-building trips, invitations to lunch, and every other bonding activity she hates. And it worked perfectly—he’s a doctor, so everyone is always full of understanding and admiration.

Until the annual Christmas party. Which she has known about for weeks in advance, and which they planned especially so that everyone could attend.

And Emma does not have a doctor boyfriend. She doesn’t have any boyfriend.

Enter Victor Whale, a friend of a friend, a man who is more than willing to accept a bottle of whiskey in return for pretending to be her boyfriend via FaceTime. The plan was simple: he calls wearing his scrubs, makes a bit of small talk, and she gets another year of peace and quiet.

Emma is holding her phone, watching Victor chat to her boss, Ingrid, when she becomes aware that someone’s watching her.

She turns—right into Killian Jones.

For a moment, she doesn’t quite register it. She’s used to seeing Killian in jeans and a sweater down at the docks, or in a t-shirt and loose pants at fencing practice. She’s never seen him in a suit before. It’s not a bad look—she’s pretty sure that no outfit in the world could make him look bad—but it doesn’t quite look like him, either.

“What are you doing here?”

He looks just as off-balance as she feels, but as she watches, he pulls himself together. “I was invited,” he says, and she realises that there’s someone standing next to him. A petite brunette, dressed impeccably in a blue blouse and corduroy skirt. Belle.

Belle, who has also begged off various work engagements due to her boyfriend.

She’s dating Killian?

Emma’s stomach is dropping, something that feels horribly like loss plummeting through her. She thought he was single. He flirts like he’s single. And yeah, she always rebuffs him, because that’s been their dynamic ever since they met.

And maybe, just a bit, because she wants to know whether he’ll keep trying.

So far, he has. Or so she thought. And it’s not like she thought he really means everything he says to her, but she did think—she assumed—well. She didn’t know he was taken.

By Belle.

And then her brain catches up to her, and she takes a closer look at him and the expression on his face and the guilty, trapped set to his shoulders and she realises two things: one, he didn’t expect to see her here either. And two, he’s lying.

He’s not dating Belle. Belle is doing the exact same thing Emma is, except she clearly didn’t think of the video-call compromise.

He meets her eyes, and he seems to realise that he’s giving the game away, because he straightens his spine and relaxes his stance, a smile on his face. Another lie. She’s caught it now, and he’s not fooling her. She smiles back blandly.

Belle is not quite oblivious to the byplay. “Hi, Emma,” she says brightly. “You two know each other?”

“Aye,” Killian says, a heavy, almost resigned note to his voice despite his apparent efforts. “Emma is in the fencing club.”

“Oh.” And then Belle’s eyes widen, and she stares at her ‘boyfriend’. “Wait, you mean this is the—?”

Killian clears his throat loudly. “I didn’t know you worked here, Swan.”

Belle closes her mouth, though her eyes are still wide, as if she’s processing some kind of revelation.

Emma has no idea what that’s about. What she really wants is to call Killian out right now, but that means giving Belle’s game away, and that wouldn’t be fair. She’ll get him later. For now, she just shrugs. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Truer words,” Killian mutters. Under his suave exterior, he still looks unsettled. Maybe he knows that she knows. Or maybe he’s worried that she’ll figure it out. He can almost never fool her during practice either. She can always tell when he’s feinting.

Granted, that goes both ways, but still.

“Emma?” a voice comes from her left.

She’s forgotten about her phone. The video call. Victor.

Crap.

“Uh, yeah.” She forces a smile as she turns her attention back to the screen. “Sorry, I got—uh, a friend just showed up.”

Victor smiles back. “Do they wanna say hi?”

“Who’s that?” Belle asks.

And that’s when Ingrid leans in with a bright smile and says, “This is Victor! We finally get to meet Emma’s mysterious boyfriend. He’s on call at the hospital tonight.”

Belle’s eyes widen. She glances at Killian, who has gone rigid. Emma, fighting back a renewed feeling of dread, angles the phone so Belle can see. “Victor, this is Belle.”

“Ah, yes.” Victor is all smiles and charm. “Emma’s mentioned you. She didn’t mention that you’re gorgeous. Wow.”

Belle blushes, though she looks rather like she wants to sink into the ground and disappear. “Thank you.”

“So what do you do exactly, Belle?” Victor asks oh-so-smoothly. Emma resists the urge to roll her eyes. He was bad enough with Ingrid; if he keeps this up, he is not getting the whiskey. He’s supposed to be her boyfriend, not trying to score with her colleagues.

Killian is glaring at the phone, and for a moment, Emma doubts her own assessment. There’s something in that frown, in his stance now, that looks… not possessive, but definitely protective. Is he jealous? Maybe he really is dating Belle.

But no. Killian can play the charmer with the best of them, but he’s a romantic at heart. There’s no way he wouldn’t have mentioned a girlfriend. And there’s no way he’d be dating someone if he wasn’t besotted. And if he were… she would know. Everyone would know, the same way everyone knows that David is madly in love with Mary Margaret.

She’s never imagined Killian dating anyone, but now that the thought has occurred, she can’t imagine him being anything other than devoted.

Even though she really has nothing to base that on.

But the idea of him dating Belle and flirting with her like he has been just doesn’t fit. It goes against everything she knows about him.

Until now, she never realised just how much she knows about him.

Victor is still flirting with Belle, oblivious to the daggers that Killian is glaring at the phone, and Emma has suddenly had enough. This wasn't part of the deal. “Okay,” she says, turning the phone so Victor’s looking at her. “I think I’d better go. Don’t want to keep you from your work, honey.”

“Always so considerate,” he drawls. “I’ll catch you later then, sweetcheeks.”

“Yeah.” She almost—almost—rolls her eyes, but that wouldn’t exactly help sell this relationship to her audience, so she manages a smile instead. “Bye.”

She ends the call. When she looks up, Killian is watching her with narrowed eyes, and Belle is still looking mortified. She seems to gather herself, and takes Killian’s hand. “I need to talk to you,” she says. “Excuse us a moment, Emma?”

“Uh, sure.” Emma stands there as they walk off together, feeling a little thunderstruck.

There’s no way. This is a ruse, the same thing she’s doing.

He’s not even Belle’s type.

“He seems very nice,” Ingrid says. Emma looks at her. She’s watching Killian and Belle walk off too, smiling. Emma clenches her fists. “You know him from fencing, he said?”

“What?” Emma forces her hand to relax. “Oh. Yeah. He’s, uh.” She can’t call him nice. Nice doesn’t even begin to describe Killian Jones. “He knows how to leave an impression.”

“I’ll say.” Ingrid turns her smile on Emma. “As does your Victor. I’m so glad I finally got to meet him.”

Emma can’t help hearing and confirm that he’s real behind the words.

And then her stomach lurches again, because… now Killian thinks she’s dating Victor. Meaning that pretty soon, David and Mary Margaret are going to think that she’s dating Victor. And probably August, and Ruby, and… crap. She’s going to have to confess before this goes any further. She can’t lie to her friends. This whole thing was never supposed to extend beyond work.

Which means she’s going to have to tell Killian that she essentially hired a guy to pretend to date her. Which is pathetic. She’s never going to live it down.

At least her colleagues are finally satisfied that Emma’s boyfriend is in fact real. She’s never liked work get-togethers; they always feel like an insincere waste of time. Hence the whole pretend-boyfriend thing. But at least the conversations don’t feel like a minefield tonight.

Eventually, she finds herself standing alone at the buffet table, and there’s a whisper of movement beside her as Killian joins her. “Swan.”

She feels her mouth twist. “Jones.”

He has opened the top two buttons of his shirt, his tie nowhere to be seen. Better, she thinks. More like himself.

“Enjoying your evening?” he asks, the picture of politeness as he takes a glass of champagne.

“Oh, yeah,” she says, unable to help the sarcasm. “You?”

His mouth quirks just before he takes a sip of his drink. “What’s not to love?”

“Uh-huh,” she says. “That why you agreed to come? You just love work parties?”

He looks momentarily taken aback, like he’s not quite sure what she’s getting at. “I came with Belle. Though, I wanted to—”

“You’re not dating her,” she says, and maybe she’s a little smug about it because she caught him out and that’s not easy to do.

He opens his mouth, closes it again. “Pardon?”

“You,” she says, poking him in the chest, “are not dating her. There’s no way.”

She expects him to deny it, to give her whatever story they came up with. But he lets out a sigh, bows his head, and looks up at her through his lashes. It’s the look he always gives her when he’s guilty and trying to persuade her to go easy on him, and she knows she’ll be in trouble if he ever figures out just how well it works.

“Guilty as charged, I’m afraid,” he says. “What gave it away?”

She shrugs. “You’re not her type. And there’s no way you wouldn’t have mentioned it before now.”

His eyes are sharp on hers. “You know me too well.” She can’t tell whether there’s something intimate in it, or whether that’s just wishful thinking.

She shrugs again. “I told you, I’m pretty good at knowing when people are lying.”

“I was going to tell you,” he says. “And in my defence, I didn’t know you’d be here. I had no idea you worked here too.”

“Right.” She never talks about work. She never talks about anything personal if she can help it.

“And speaking of things I didn’t know,” he says, and he sounds casual, but there’s something tense behind the words, “why have you never mentioned this man of yours? Victor, was it?”

“Oh.” Emma just about suppresses a wince. She should tell him. She has to tell him. It’s only fair. “Yeah. It’s, uh. Long story.”

“I’d love to hear it,” he says, and there’s a glint in his eyes that she recognises from practice. She was wrong. He’s not tense. The word is predatory. “I would love to know how you came to date a man who calls you ‘sweetcheeks’.”

She’s going to kill Victor. “That was—he doesn’t call me that.”

Killian raises his eyebrows. “I was there, love. I heard him.”

“Yeah, well, you call me—that.” Not the best comeback, in hindsight, but by then it’s too late to think of a better one.

He laughs, looking amused now. “If you prefer ‘sweetcheeks’, I can always—”

“No,” she cuts him off, annoyed.

She spots Walter and two of the other tech guys wandering over towards the buffet table, and hastily turns away. Killian follows her as she walks away from the table, with no aim other than avoiding people.

There’s no avoiding him, of course, not now that he’s smelled blood.

And she can’t even complain, because she started it.

“At first I thought I owed you an apology,” Killian says as he falls into step beside her, “for misreading the situation so badly and pursuing you when you were spoken for. But then, you never so much as mentioned the man, so how was I to know?”

Emma comes to a stop, staring at him. Pursuing? What does that mean? Pursuing implies catching, which implies… more than just idle flirtation. Right?

“And now,” Killian goes on, “having seen the man you’ve allegedly broken your golden rule for, I can’t help but think that either you’ve taken leave of your senses, or something else is going on here.”

That… sounds like something she should be offended by. “Excuse me? What rule?”

“The one about no relationships,” Killian says.

He’s right. She did say something about that. Once. Shortly after she met him.

And she did set that rule for herself, years ago, but… she almost forgot about it. It hasn’t seemed very important lately.

Weird.

(Not really that weird.)

“Oh,” she says. “That.”

“You’re not telling me that you, Miss Love Will Leave You Brokenhearted, broke that rule for him,” Killian says, his eyes narrowed as he studies her. That predatory gleam is back, the one he gets when he knows that something’s going on and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it. “I don’t know that I’ve ever met a more obvious candidate for breaking a woman’s heart.”

He’s right. He’s so right that it’s kind of scary. He’s got no business being that perceptive.

And what the hell did he mean by pursuing?

“I know,” she admits. “It’s—like I said. Long story.” She looks around to make sure nobody else is within earshot. “Kinda pretty much the same as Belle, I guess.”

“Ah.” It’s a long sound, and it seems to release the last bit of tension in his stance. He grins at her. “I had a feeling. It just seemed like too much of a coincidence.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” she says quickly. “Please.”

One eyebrow quirks up. “And what do I get for keeping your dirty little secret?”

She mirrors his expression, although she has to use both eyebrows. “Oh, blackmail, is it?”

“Don’t try to claim the moral high ground, love.” He looks like he’s enjoying himself now. “You want to make me, an honest man, party to your lies and deceptions. Surely that calls for some kind of recompense.”

“You’re already party to lies and deception,” she points out, “or have you forgotten why you’re here?”

“Belle has already promised me a favour in return.”

She is not going to ask what that favour involves. She is not. They’re clearly just friends. “Fine. What do you want?”

He considers. “I want you to give me a fair chance. If the answer is still no, that’s fine, but no treating it all as a joke or hiding behind the past.”

She feels her eyes widen. “A chance, as in… you and me?”

“Not a date or anything of the sort,” he says quickly. “I’m not going to blackmail you into that. I just mean… you always laugh it off. You don’t let yourself consider it.”

Right again. And if Emma is perfectly honest—something she can admit she struggles with—there have been times when she almost knew that he wasn’t just joking around. When she felt the maybe hovering between them. It’s just a lot easier to laugh it off than consider the possibility of… anything else.

But it’s Killian. She knows him—better than she even realised. She’s been right about him every single time so far.

“Like I said, if the answer’s still no, I’ll accept it,” Killian says, and she knows that he means it. “And you have my word that I won’t bring it up again.”

“No, that’s—” Emma shakes her head. “I mean, yeah. Okay. Deal.”

He beams at her.

* * *

He smiles more widely still just over a week later, when she ends their last training session before Christmas by asking him out.

(Once he's recovered from his shock, that is.)

* * *

Tag list (shh I didn't forget again) - @optomisticgirl @mariakov81 @courtorderedcake @tomeandflickcorner @spartanguard @snowbellewells @karl0ta @heavenlyjoycastle @queen-serena88 @stahlop @inkerii @bubblegum1425 @elegies @winterbaby89 @kday426 @sals86 @superchocovian @pirateherokillian @laschatzi @scientificapricot @kmomof4 @thisonesatellite @ilovemesomekillianjones @last-tsarina @thesschesthair @the-darkdragonfly

#cs ff #ouat ff #cs one-shot #cs crew #merry christmas etc #modern au #cs au #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs fanfic #ouat fanfic #fanfic #mine

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daggzandarrowsnew · 7 months

Text

Clearing out my drafts - this one was started from a prompt on my original Daggzandarrows Tumblr account (which I stupidly deactivated *cries in soooo many lost fics*)

“Baby Peanut’s magic”

————

“If we suppress it, it will only hurt her in the long run.” Regina explained, her patience running thin because they'd talked about this for so long now and, as much as she loved Robin, he just wasn’t getting it. “She needs to learn to control it now, while she's young lest she lose control and, god forbid, kill someone.”

“She wouldn't.”

“Not on purpose, Robin,” she amended on a tired sigh. The kids were due home soon and the chance to speak so openly with him was quickly dwindling. “You know her temper. At least if she understood what it was, she'd be prepared.”

He shook his head, still pacing in front of the window as she watched from her place on the sofa. “I just…” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “I don't want her to turn out like-”

“Like me?” It stung, penetrated deep and flooded her veins like acid.

His pace slowed as he turned his head to look at her, a look of horror on his face, “What? No! That's not-”

“Magic is in her blood just as it is mine, Robin. Regardless of who birthed her, Mills’ blood runs through her veins. You cannot condone my magic yet condemn Zelena’s because they are one and the same.”

“Regina, I-”

“If you'll excuse me,” she interrupted briskly, swallowing thickly as tears glistened in eyes that wouldn't lift to look at him, “I need to make a start on dinner.”

————

“Is Mom sick?” Henry frowned as he watched Regina walk from the room, the plate of food in her hands barely touched unlike the children's empty plates she’d stacked beneath her own.

Robin swallowed guiltily, his own food inedible with the way his stomach was knotted. She'd barely looked at him since before dinner and had immersed herself in the children when they'd bounded through the front door, full of joy and caked in dirt having spent the afternoon in the forest with Robin’s men.

He felt awful.

“I think she's just a little tired, Henry.”

“She looks sad,” Scarlett frowned worriedly with eyes still on the door through which her mother had walked, “do you think she'd like a hug, Daddy?”

He couldn't help but smile with absolute affection at his daughter’s words, nodding his head as he replied, “I think she'd love that, darling.”

————

Her shoulders shook with her silent sobs as she pressed her face harder against her legs, wrapping her arms tighter around her knees and berating herself for getting so worked up over something she knew Robin hadn't meant.

He loved her, loved every single part of her - he'd spent many years now reaffirming that belief in her - and she knew that included her magic, he was just worried that it would corrupt their girl like it had done Zelena and Regina both and his fear wasn’t irrational...it was just unnecessary.

He didn’t understand how frightened Scarlett would be should she feel that first surge of power without knowledge of what it was or where it came from. There’d been many a night in which Regina had stood watching in the doorway of their daughter’s room as her dreams had been magically projected onto the ceiling, chuckling softly as her teddy bears had danced about the room in a way that had been strangely elegant.

It was beautiful, their daughter’s magic, but it could change and Regina wanted her to be prepared for that in a way that she herself hadn’t been.

There was a tug on her fingers that startled her, eyes wide as she lifted her head to blink wetly at the very person she'd been thinking of staring concernedly back at her.

“Why are you crying, Mama?”

She’d inherited magic from Regina’s side of the family but had most certainly inherited Robin’s ability to move silently when he wanted to. “Oh, I just stubbed my toe, sweetheart,” she replied and she hated lying but this was not something she was ready to discuss with their daughter yet, not until she and Robin were agreed on the best course of action. “It really stung.”

Eyes as blue as her father’s but as expressive as her own blinked back at her, a shadow of suspicion there as Scarlett looked to her bare feet and back again.

She changed the subject - or at least her daughter’s train of thought - by holding out her arms to Scarlett and asking, “Can Mama have a hug? It’ll make me feel much better.” And that was no lie.

Dimples dented chubby little cheeks as Scarlett nodded and reached arms up towards Regina, giggling wildly when she tickled at her sides as she lifted her onto the bed and placed her in the gap between legs now crossed, folding her arms tight around her daughter’s waist as small arms wrapped around her neck in turn.

Regina threaded her fingers through strawberry blonde curls and held Scarlett’s face to her neck as she cried quietly, trying to keep her shaking to a minimum. Their daughter was good in spite of her conception. Inherently good and that wasn’t only because of Robin but because of her too. She knew that even on her worst days.

They’d raised her in the right way - Zelena’s visits were still supervised even now and they’d never heard anything to be cautious of but it would remain that way lest she even dare think she could corrupt the goodness in Scarlett’s heart - but Regina knew the lure of dark magic. Knew how it could whisper in your ear and wrap around your heart.

It was a chance they weren’t willing to take where Zelena was concerned despite Regina’s own desire for a change in her sister much like her own. There was simply too much to lose.

“Can I sleep with you tonight, Mama?”

Her heart ached in her chest as she stroked her fingers through Scarlett’s hair and nodded, “Of course you can, my darling.”

————

She wasn’t sure of the time nor how long she’d been asleep but when she blinked open heavy eyes, she found Robin to be sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room watching them sleep. He looked exhausted and completely guilt-stricken. It was automatic and instinctual for her to lift a hand from Scarlett’s back and hold it out to him.

Robin didn’t hesitate to cross the small distance to the bed and slip carefully beneath the covers, instantly leaning up and over their daughter to press a kiss to Regina’s lips. “I am so sorry, my love.”

Regina shushed him gently, accepting another lingering kiss from him before she lay her head back down onto the pillow and watched as he did the same after dropping a kiss into Scarlett’s sleep-mussed curls. They lay in silence for a long moment, just soaking in the tiny child in their arms and the joy she brought to all of their lives much like her brothers before her. A child not born of Regina, much like the other two, but just as embedded in her heart.

“She may be Mills by blood,” Regina began quietly, shushing him gently when he moved to apologise, to tell her he hadn’t meant that. “But she’s also a Locksley by heart and soul. She’s so good, Robin. Much of the darkness in both Zelena and myself was out there by years of neglect. We chased that with a need to be loved by people who didn’t have the capacity to and that in turn bred abuse and an acceptance that that was what we deserved…until we couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“That dark path was a choice both Zelena and I took. I was simply lucky enough to find people to pull me back from that, to make me realise that there was so much more for me to find in the light.” She pressed a kiss to Scarlett’s temple when the girl snuggled deeper into her hole without waking before continuing. “One day Zelena might realise that too - maybe she’s already leaning that way, only time will tell…but Scarlett will never have to wonder if she is loved because we show her everyday. She will never feel alone because she has a whole army of people behind her. And she will never feel scared because we are going to tell her the truth.”

“Within reason,” Robin laughed softly, and she breathed a laugh in return because yes, some things she didn’t need to know just yet. But others…

“I suspect she already knows she can do special things or at least sense it, I began to suspect at her age,” she smiled down at the angelic features so relaxed in sleep, reminded of Henry at that age and Roland too, not yet aware of how dangerous or scary the world could be. “I just don’t want her to fear what is a part of her. I don’t want her to resent her magic, not when we can prepare her for it, when I can teach her to wield it properly.”

“I know,” Robin moved forward to capture her lips in a kiss that said so much more than he could. It was full of apology, of compassion and of promise. She was not alone. He stayed close when he allowed the kiss to break, stroking a hair through Scarlett’s curls. “I don’t want her scared either. I want her to feel confident in who she is, to know she can be whoever she wants to and we’ll always be there to catch her if she falls…it’s just…”

“Scary?”

He nodded, relief colouring his features that he was finally communicating what he’d been trying to say earlier. “I have absolutely no doubt that you will keep her safe, Regina. I trust you implicitly.”

She smiled tenderly at him, eyes moving over his face for a long moment before she admitted, “It scares the hell out of me too, Robin…” and then, “but the thought of Scarlett disliking or even fearing any part of herself scares me more.”

Robin leaned in once more to press a kiss to her forehead, cupping the back of her head as he moved in closer to hold his two favourite girls as he pressed his forehead to her own and promised, “Then her lessons start tomorrow. Let’s show our daughter another of the beautiful things about herself to love.”

And with those words, another dark shadow began to fade from Regina’s bruised heart as she closed her eyes and cuddled close to her family. Her world.

#ouat #regina mills #outlaw queen #oq ff #once upon a time #oq au #robin hood #daggzandarrows #ouat ff #outlaw queen prompt

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booksteaandtoomuchtv · 1 year

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Late Night Bottle

AO3

Summary: Killian handling a late-night demand for a bottle. A/N: A short fic (less than 500 words) that I wrote for OUAT-tober 2022 for the parenthood prompt. Since I have a lot of new people on my site, I thought some of you might enjoy this one. :)

Killian scowled as the numbers slowly approached zero. Steam was already pouring out of the contraption, surely the bottle had heated already. He knew it took the full six minutes to get the cold milk up to temperature; but, every wail permeating from the baby monitor sent another arrow through his heart and made his frustration at the descending numbers grow exponentially.

Time was definitely moving slower tonight.

Another wail from the monitor tore him from the staring contest with the cursed timer. He picked up the monitor, switched the screen on, and a wiggling, kicking, little bundle grimaced up at him. Her little face was squeezed together as she prepared to let out another cry.

“I’m coming, lass, just give me another…,” he looked at the timer. Ten seconds, it read. He’d commandeered ships, defeated the most trained navy crews, he was the most feared on the ocean for centuries.

This bloody warmer wasn’t going to win this battle.

Killian took a quick breath, reached into the steam mist, cursed as the steam condensed on his hand, and put the piping-hot storage container on the counter. Grabbing a dish towel, he twisted off the cap and poured the milk into a bottle.

As he ran up the stairs, he dipped his pinky in the milk - it was close to body temperature - and screwed the top onto the bottle tucked between his arm and chest. He took the stairs two at a time, trying to get to Hope as quickly as possible.

“I’m here. I’m here. I’ve the bottle. I’m here,” he soothed, he set the bottle on the small table near the glider. Hope continued to cry out as he crossed to lift her out of the crib, and Killian continued to murmur to her. He pulled her into his arms, wrapped her blanket around her waist, and bounced her on their way to the glider.

Once they were cuddled, her head cradled in his left arm, bottle in her mouth, he let out a long breath. The room was filled with the sound of waves crashing from the noise maker and the steady rhythmic sway of the glider, which reminded Killian of the peace that he’d only found in late ocean nights.

However, the heavy head pressed into his arm, the sweet sounds of sucking, and the small hums of satisfaction as Hope devoured the bottle he’d brought her filled him with a warmth and contentment that exceeded even the best night at sea.

#Dad!Killian #Killian Jones #Captain Hook #hope swan jones #ouat ff #killian jones fanfiction

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shady-swan-jones · 19 days

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“How about italian?” And thus it begins, without ceremony or preamble. The work day ends, dragging the last poor souls into overstaffed trains and bouncy buses and Killian swings by her office waiting for her to gather her things and they go to dinner.

It becomes their unspoken tradition. Until he leaves.

Read on Ao3

#captain swan #ouat #cs ff #cs fic #cs au #cs modern au #ouat ff #ouat fic #emma swan #killian jones #my fics

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myfearless-love · 3 months

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Swan of the Lake Ch. 11 - Lacuna

Summary:

While searching for her past filled with mysteries and legends, Emma Nolan loses her present in an unfortunate accident. The man rushing to save her is no prince charming, and he must realize soon enough that the girl, who has no idea who she is, awakens instincts and desires in him that he had long since buried deep within his soul. But who exactly is she? What if her memories come back? Will she remember anything at all?

Words: 3.7k

Read on: AO3 or FF.net

Buy me a coffee if you like :)

prologue II ch. 1 II ch. 2 II ch. 3 II ch. 4 II ch. 5 II ch.6 II ch.7 II ch.8 II ch.9 II ch. 10

Chapter 11: Lacuna

Killian shoots a surprised glance at Swan, utterly clueless about what's racing through her mind at that moment. Before he can decipher it, she shuts her eyes, and her face becomes a canvas drained of color. In a heartbeat, he darts towards her, cradling her in his arms just as she threatens to make a less-than-graceful return to the icy stage. Scooping her gently into his arms, he pulls her close.

"Well, I tend to have this effect on women," quips the dark-blond guy with a mischievous grin.

Killian shoots him a look that could chill a cup of espresso and signals for the dimmer switch on the charm offensive. The girl in the black hat takes a subtle jab at the man, successfully dialing down the wattage on his smile.

"Is she okay?" Concerned, the lass – Lily, or was it? – questions, prompting Killian's sarcasm to make an entrance.

"Does she look like she's okay?" he retorts with a raised eyebrow.

Suppressing the urge to unleash a kraken of irritation on the unwitting duo, Killian reluctantly acknowledges that they aren't to blame for knowing Swan. He really shouldn't harbor resentment towards them. Still, annoyance simmers within him like a pot of overzealous soup, threatening to boil over. As he looks at her, who's blissfully unaware of the turmoil within him, he contemplates the unexpected turn of events.

"Swan," he murmurs gently, but she remains unresponsive. Are her memories resurfacing, threatening to erase the Swan he knows when she opens her eyes? And why does the prospect sting with an unexpected, piercing pain? Killian sighs and turns to the duo, reigning in his irritation for the sake of friendliness. "You two seem to know her," he observes, prompting bewildered glances and a subtle nod from the man.

READ THE REST ON AO3 or FF.net

Tagging some folks who might be interested:

@anmylica @elfiola @zaharadessert @gingerchangeling @undercaffinatednightmare @jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @mie779 @winterbaby89 @tiganasummertree @stahlop @rylieblu @ultraluckycatnd @eddisfargo @booksteaandtoomuchtv @laianely @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @captainswan-kellie

#cs #captain swan #cs ff #killian jones #emma swan #ouat #captain hook #emma x killian #once upon a time #ouat ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan ff #SOTL #niki writes

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snowbellewells · 4 months

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Self Promo Sunday: "Darkness Before Dawn (Leave Hope's Light On)"

This week's Self Promo fic is another older chaptered CS story that I am bringing back “out of the vault” lol ;p. Though there will certainly be some angst this time around, there is also a happy ending - I promise. This one is a post-Christmas/New Year's themed one, and it takes place between the 4a and 4b timelines of the show (i.e. after the defeat of the Snow Queen, but before Gold returns with the Queens of Darkness) and diverges from there.

Summary: A lovely holiday season has come and gone, and Emma hates to see it end. However, much more pressing concerns quickly take precedence when she and Henry are in a wreck. Now the Savior is fighting for her life, and those who love her can only hope she'll find her way out of the darkness one more time...

*Also available on AO3 and ff.net, if you would prefer...

(I've posted all five parts in this Tumblr post for ease of reading)

by: @snowbellewells

i. prologue

Only three days after Christmas, and Emma Swan finds herself driving Henry back to Regina's where he will stay until New Year's Day. She can't help but feel that the holiday has passed her by in a flash, and she is loath to give up the sense of her first real Christmas with her family, and especially her son, around her. Though she is ridiculously grateful that she and Regina have worked out a schedule agreeable to both of them and Henry; now she is afraid that with Henry gone for several days, all the leftover bits of holiday magic, pure, innocent joy, and the light that might still be lingering, will go with him.

Shaking her head, Emma sighs as she glances across at her son in the passenger seat, lost to the newest app on his iPhone and luckily oblivious to her gloomy thoughts. There is no doubt in her mind that she is being more than a bit silly, but that doesn't make the feeling disappear. Realistically she knows that Regina truly needs Henry right now; he is the one bright spot in a horrible time of loss for the formerly Evil Queen. Emma doesn't want to begrudge the other woman what little joy she can find. Yes, Henry needs to spend the time with his adoptive mother, but Emma still hates to see him go, even for a few days. So much of Emma's life has been spent alone, with no one to care about her, much less be there to share Christmas traditions, and she feels a near-insatiable need to horde the precious moments now that she has them.

It has been more fun that she could have guessed taking Henry to her mom and dad's to help them trim the tree, watching F rosty the Snowman and How the Grinch Stole Christmas , helping Snow bake dozens and dozens of sugar cookies, both to decorate and eat themselves, and then passing the rest out to seemingly everyone in town. She wants to make the warm and jolly December evenings they've spent laughing cozily together last forever, so she will never lose the feeling of being curled up between Killian, whose arm stretches lazily along the back of the couch and over her, and her father, chuckling at Henry as he makes faces to entertain his baby uncle and exclaims over his presents. Emma knows they all felt similar emotions at times, like when her watery eyes met her mother's over the boys' heads and a lump rose in her throat. This year has brought her more of a holiday that she could have ever imagined having a part in as a cynical, unwanted foster child years ago. Killian's arms have tightened around her numerous times in the last few days, and she has known that he understands all too well from the life he had lived. Her father seems to find every possible moment to squeeze her hand in his, as if reminding her that they had always wanted her with them like this.

Without realizing it, Emma lets her mind wander and loses focus for the briefest of instants. It happens so quickly that cause or fault will never be clear. Emma only glances at Henry beside her for a moment; takes her glance off the road no longer that she would need to adjust the heat or the radio volume. Yet, somehow, they hit an unseen patch of black ice on the wintry road, going at full travel speed. The Bug skids, back end fishtailing out one way, and then almost up even with the front, putting the vehicle perpendicular to its original path on the pavement. Emma scrambles to right them, and Henry calls out a warning, but it happens too slowly and isn't enough. Their little yellow car shoots offcourse, seemingly flying from the road and directly into a pole at the shoulder.

Mother's instinct makes Emma's arm dart out in a desperate effort to shield her son, and she feels – with both hope and fear – some of her magical energy leaving her fingertips almost like second nature, in an attempt to protect him. It is the last thing she feels before impact, and then her world goes dark.

ii. the call

"Mom! Mom!" Henry snaps out of the daze he hovered in after the sudden stop and the settling of the car. He can see snowflakes falling thickly through the cracked windshield, and bitterly cold air is filtering in, though he doesn't remember it snowing before they skidded. If his mom had not told him the Snow Queen was dead, and actually hadn't been evil, he would blame the unseen ice and strange drop in temperature while they were vulnerable on her. It doesn't really matter now, but he is still trying to get his bearings and stop his head from spinning. For an odd second or two, it’s like he is in a vacuum; roaring in his ears and dizziness makes him off balance and sluggish, but when his mind clears and he sees his birth mother slumped over the steering wheel, a thin line of blood trickling down the side of her face, eyes closed, not moving, his concern bursts through the haze.

Henry realizes that she must have used her magic to cushion him somehow and didn't have time to do the same for herself. Yet, even as he registers what she has done, the air around him seems to waiver, flicker, and whatever shield she put in place weakens and fades, allowing him to reach beyond it and touch her carefully, worriedly, enough to see that she makes no response.

"Mom…can you hear me?" he tries again. When he still gets no movement or reaction, Henry begins scrabbling around in the seat, then on the floor, until he finds his phone where it has fallen in the confusion. Swiping the screen quickly, Henry calls his other mom, then his Gramps, in rapid succession – once he has gotten an ambulance on its way.

As far as the teen can tell, nothing seems to hurt and he is completely uninjured. The car is caved in clear to the windshield from where it smashed into the pole head-on, but his door isn't blocked. He can get out, but is determined not to leave his mom until help arrives. Whatever Emma did to shield him came at the expense of her own safety, and Henry swallows back both guilt and fear for her at that knowledge. He is momentarily glad to be alone when he feels tears welling in his eyes.

Reaching over the console to grasp his mom's fingers in his, Henry threads them together and forces himself to hope it will all be fine. Her skin feels cold to the touch, and his brow furrows in concern. "Come on, Mom. Hang in there," he murmurs to her fervently, leaning in as though he can assure that she will hear him. "Please."

For some reason, as the silence stretches on and Henry worries more the longer she remains still, he realizes who he has forgotten to call in his anxiety. Killian will have to be told and will be crazed with worry for his mom. How he didn't think to call his mom's boyfriend until now baffles him. Killian will be frantic to get to Emma, to help, to see that she is okay, and he deserves to be with her. Henry genuinely likes the reformed pirate. He has more than earned his place at Emma's side. Hating what he knows it will do to the Captain, Henry also can't put this call off. Dialing once more, the young man waits as he hears the phone ring two, then three, times before Killian Jones picks up, sounding half-confused, half-exasperated at the modern contraption in his hand.

His accent is clear through the wire as he asks, "Henry? What is it, lad? Are you alright?"

"Yes, Captain, I'm fine. Just listen to me, okay?" Henry swallows hard, not sure what to say, how to deliver what he knows will be an awful blow. Yet, one glance at his mom's still, expressionless face, and he knows he has no choice … Killian might even be able to reach her. Henry is no fool. Both sets of his grandparents are True Loves – and he sees something just as deep and strong, if not as clearly understood, between his mom and Killian.

"Aye, lad," the Captain's voice breaks back in to agree. "My apologies. I will simply listen then."

Henry draws in a deep breath. He hates having to put this into words, but then blurts it out in a pained rush, not trailing off until the end. "Mom and I had a wreck. The ambulance is on its way, and they'll help, but Mom hasn't woken up yet. She's hurt, and I thought you should know what was happening. …I'm sorry…"

Drawing in such a sharp breath it sounds like he has taken a physical blow, Killian is stunned by the news. His chest tightens at the mere thought of Emma and Henry in pain or danger, and his mind is already racing to where she is and how quickly he can get there, what he can do. Yet, in the next moment, he knows there is something else he must take care of first. He can tell immediately by the lad's tone that he is already feeling guilt at being alright when Emma is not, and also at having to be the bearer of such awful news. He speaks firmly, and with intent when he responds. "No, lad, none of that. You need not apologize. You did not cause this, and you should not feel sorry at being unharmed. I have no doubt that is how Emma wanted it. Understood?"

Henry nods reluctantly before realizing that Killian can't see him, then manages a begrudging, "Understood."

"Where are you?" Killian asks, already moving around his rented room at Granny's to throw on his coat and grab the grey knitted scarf that Emma had brought him just a few days ago with a gentle smile and concern that he would take a chill. He is already reaching for the door as he adds, "I'm on my way to you, just tell me the direction."

"Head to the hospital – that's where we'll be."

"I will see you there, lad. I'm starting off as we speak."

"Killian," Henry breaks in again, strangely sounding as if he wants to reassure his mom's boyfriend, even though he is the one who has been in the wreck and is sitting beside his unconscious mother, "I know you were there once. Remember, they patched you up, even though you'd been hit by a car. They kept my gramps alive when he would have died for sure in the Enchanted Forest. They kept me stable when I ate the poisoned apple. They'll help Emma too. They have to! She's going to be alright. Just…I'll see you there, okay?"

"Aye, of course, lad," Killian assures, hearing both the pleading note in the boy's voice and the need to have his hope confirmed. The pirate already feels himself growing more frantic every second, wondering just how bad it is, but he can still try to give her boy a bit of comfort before he gives into his own fear. Though he speaks calmly to Henry, the desperate thoughts are already swirling inside his head. 'What if she doesn't wake? ' His beautiful, blunt, brave sheriff-princess, and he might never speak to her again, nor see her lovely green eyes sparkle with mischief. Killian shakes his head roughly, forcing that line of thought away. 'Not again. Not this time. Swan is strong. She will come back to me.' Killian has to believe that he will not suffer the loss of someone else he loves; even his life cannot be so cruel. "I'll be there as fast as I possibly can," he finishes saying to Henry, hoping the boy will be somewhat appeased; it’s all he has to offer.

"Good. Come find Gramps and me when you do, alright? ... And Killian?" Henry's voice fades for a moment, then adds, "You be careful. Mom will need you when she wakes up."

~~~~~000~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After hanging up the phone, Henry lets out a breath of relief. Things aren't really any better, but the part he had been dreading is done. He looks back over to Emma, covering her hand with his own still-growing one, trying not to dwell on the chill to her skin. "Killian's on his way. Neither one of us want to lose you, Mom. I know you've had to do it a lot, but keep fighting. Stay with us."

Soon he hears sirens blaring, and then his grandpa peals up behind them in the town's outdated patrol car and runs to the Bug, ambulance wheeling in right behind him. Next thing Henry knows, David is jerking open the door and crushing his grandson to his chest. "Henry! Are you alright?!" he asks, drawing in a sharp breath as he sees his injured daughter over Henry's head. The EMTs are already easing her out of the car and onto a backboard for the trip to the hospital, and all he can really do is clasp Henry to him more tightly and watch. He feels the boy shaking slightly, even as he tries so hard to be strong. As a father, he wants to ask so many questions about his daughter. 'Has she spoken at all?' 'Opened her eyes?' 'What made her lose control of the car?' But he holds back, comforting his daughter's child instead. There is nothing he can do to help beyond that anyway.

Easing Henry out and guiding him with a hand around his shoulders, David ushers his grandson into the cruiser, studiously ignoring the sniffles the teen is trying to hide. He rounds the front of the vehicle, sliding behind the wheel and immediately turning it around to follow the ambulance. Still, he brakes for a moment, making eye contact with Henry and holding it determinedly. "She’s going to be fine. Trust me," he vows, knowing he shouldn't make such a promise, but unable to believe anything else. His daughter has been through so much to find her happy ending; it cannot be taken from her now. He hears Snow's eternally optimistic voice in his head, telling them to keep hoping, and he will not do anything less.

Henry merely nods in acceptance of his words though, and silence settles over them again as they make their way to the hospital.

iii. keeping vigil

Killian Jones cannot turn off the fear that has overtaken his mind – the worries for her, and the feelings of helplessness, that there is nothing he can do for Emma. He spends the whole walk – more run really – to the hospital with his heart in his throat, feeling it trying to choke him, in almost as much agony as when the Crocodile had held the organ and squeezed it in torture. His heart might as well be ash without her.

Unwanted visions of Emma lying pale and cold, as Milah had in death so long ago on the deck of his ship, flit across his brain – vicious waking nightmares that he cannot seem to banish. It pains him that he is already thinking the worst, when he knows he should not. Just as he once told Emma himself, his Swan too is a survivor. She has been proving so her entire life, and certainly as long as he has known her. Still, Killian cannot quell the near-paralyzing fear; he has lost everyone he ever loved, and he will not survive the loss of Emma as well, nor does he wish to.

Upon reaching Storybrooke General, Killian barrels into the ER, searching for Henry and David anxiously, and finding them in hard, plastic chairs in the waiting room to the right. "Henry! Dave!" he calls out, rushing toward them even as he gets their attention. "Have you had any news? How is she? Can we see her?" He does not mean to deluge them with questions, or to seem frantic in front of her worried son and her father, but he must know.

"Easy, Hook," David cautions, reaching out to place a steadying hand on his shoulder, "take a breath. We'll tell you what we know, but it isn't much at this point. We're going to have to wait."

Killian gives a curt nod and does try to draw in a deep, centering breath. He dearly wants to yell at the Prince, to rail at him for his seeming composure and for telling him to wait on word. Emma cannot wait; he needs to reach her. Instead, he forces the words down, blowing out a tense breath, reminding himself that David loves Emma as well, and is trying to help. "Fine," he grits, making his voice as controlled as possible, though still aching for something to hold onto, practically trembling with the effort of holding his body still, to appear calm. "Just please tell me what you know."

David nods, motioning for Killian to take the empty seat between himself and Henry, after moving their coats off it. "Emma's car hit a patch of ice. There didn't seem to be any others on the route they were traveling; it was just a freak chance of nature as far as anyone can tell. It was cold and starting to snow, and it just happened. They were traveling at road speed, so it's really a miracle Henry isn't in worse shape too."

"No miracle," Henry mutters, looking at his shoes forlornly, bitterness in his tone as he interrupts. "She threw her hand up, used her magic on instinct somehow to protect me, and she let herself get hurt."

Realization dawns on the Prince's face, as if he completely understands something that had been puzzling him. He doesn't comment on his thoughts though, instead moves as if to get up and embrace Henry. Killian jumps in first, getting Henry's attention and making sure the teen is looking at him. "Henry, what did I tell you on the phone? You can't blame yourself. Emma loves you more than anyone else in this world. She would never want to see you hurt if she could prevent it. There is no shame in that. She is your mother and will feel that way whether you are 13 or 33. She would not want you burdened by this, that I know."

"Hook's right," David seconds, making sure that his grandson knows no one believes Henry could or should have done anything more than he has.

Henry doesn't speak to agree or argue, but he seems less angry at any rate, and Killian's worry finally urges him to ask David to continue with his news of Emma.

Sighing, David does as he requests. "Regardless, Emma sustained a serious blow to the head, most probably from the dashboard, on impact. She almost certainly has a concussion, and she hasn't shown any signs of regaining consciousness. They have her in a private room under observation, monitoring to make sure she doesn't develop any subdural hematoma that puts undue pressure on the brain. If that happens, they will have to go in to surgically relieve it…" The Prince's face is grim as he tries to explain what he has been told, and Killian does not like the troubled expression the royal's eyes take on.

"Let us hope it does not come to that, mate," he offers awkwardly, not sure how else to provide comfort.

They sit in silence for a time, until Regina arrives. She and Henry leave to walk elsewhere in the hospital for a bit. Killian is honestly glad that Queen is here; she loves Henry dearly, and has raised him. She knows as well as anyone could what to do for him and what to say to him in this situation.

He clears his throat once they are alone and asks, "Is anything else being done for her? Can we see her? Sit with her? Anything?"

David shakes his head, trying to dissuade Killian before he goes up against the doctors and the hospital itself. "Right now, they aren't letting anyone in. She needs to be in a quiet, non-stimulating environment. When the doctor spoke to me, they didn't even want her to have visitors. After that, Dr. Whale assured me he would see what they could do. He said that her pulse was slow and a bit thready, while her blood pressure was up, and that her pupils were somewhat unequal in size. Both are concerns if she doesn't wake soon, and could indicate her unconsciousness deepening."

Thankfully, David pauses to draw breath and let that much settle in. Killian honestly does not know how much more he can stand, picturing Emma alone and helpless in such a fragile state. He wishes to be at her side, even if merely to hold her hand. She might have no awareness of him at all, but if there is any part of her which senses that she is alone, he would rather believe that she could sense if he were near as well. Killian knows that Emma's father is about to finish giving him what information he has, and is steeling himself for it, when they are interrupted by Regina and Henry's return and the arrival a few moments later of a harried-looking Dr. Whale.

"Any news on Miss Swan?" Regina asks brusquely of the doctor, cutting across both Emma's love and her father. Her voice sounds sharp and matter of fact, but Killian senses more care under the surface than he imagines Regina intends to show. She may be here for Henry's benefit most, but over time the Captain has seen her come to hold a grudging respect for his tough, no-nonsense Swan. They are qualities the former mayor has as well, and appreciates in others.

Whale looks startled by this new person firing questions at him, but as the prince does not seem to object, he answers anyway. "Not much has changed since I spoke with you last. Ms. Swan has withstood a significant blow to the head and is dealing with a concussion as a result. Her unconsciousness is a serious issue and must be monitored, but is not uncommon with this sort of injury. As long as her pulse returns to normal and her other vital signs remain stable, we are cautiously optimistic that she will wake once her body has had time to recover. If she remains unconscious through the night, we will make sure she is equipped to receive adequate nutrition intravenously in the morning. She will also need to be watched for respiratory difficulty or inability to swallow. However, we will deal with those issues if they arise. In the meantime, I am prepared to allow one visitor at a time, as long as each visitor remains quiet and calm."

Emma's four gathered visitors assure him that they understand all he has said and will abide by his orders; then they are led to the room where Emma rests. Killian is more than willing to allow Swan's father and her boy to each take their turns before him; he is so relieved to see her at all. Besides, once he reaches her side again, he has no intention of leaving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly two hours have passed when Killian Jones is finally allowed to slip into the silent room Emma occupies and be near her at last. It is nearing 9 o'clock in the evening, and he knows he could not have stood being kept from her much longer. David has gone home to update and reassure Snow, who had stayed with the baby, and all three of them will be back bright and early in the morning. Henry has left as well, with Regina only minutes ago, surprising Killian by wrapping his skinny arms around the pirate's waist in a tight, wordless grasp and furtively wiping a silent tear from his face as he pulled away. "Take care of her, Captain," he had murmured lowly, making Killian aware that the lad knew his intention not to leave her.

"Aye, lad," he had responded in a voice equally low. "Have no doubt of that."

Moving across the room dimly washed in the moon's glow through the blinds, he tentatively reaches Emma and looks down on her before sinking into the chair nearby. For a moment, words are lost to him as he wonders how to reach her. He studies her beautiful, pale features, unable to stop gazing on her as his hand comes up to lightly trace over her cheek.

Speech seems pointless in the stillness of the room and her unflinching slumber. He only wants Emma to know that she is not alone, that she is loved, that he would do anything to bring her back. Bending to place a kiss upon her brow, Killian only whispers, "Darling, if you can hear me…please come back to us, Love. I need you. Your boy needs you. I promise…I will be right here when you wake." He threads his fingers with hers, leaning over the bed rail to keep his face even with hers, to watch in hopes of seeing her eyes flutter open again.

And so he begins the vigil he will keep, no matter how long, until she returns to him.

iv. drifting

Unbeknownst to Emma Swan, New Year's Eve dawns clear and bright, a brittle chill in the air, but a piercing sunlit sky overhead as well. Her son, her family, and her devoted pirate captain have all been waiting, watching, hoping she will wake, wishing each time a new sun rises that her eyes will open to see it and return to them. With a little one at home, David and Snow take turns visiting the hospital in the morning and afternoon while the other stays home with the young prince. As they do everything, the two royals work it out seamlessly between them, an unbreakable team. They set a routine of arriving at 7:00 a.m. – coffee and doughnut in hand for Killian – and never fail to carry on hoping, letting not a single moment of weakness show or a second of doubt that any day now their daughter will be awake to return their morning greeting.

Killian has not left Emma's side since he was allowed in her room that first night. One determined night shift nurse had attempted to shoo him out at midnight, but the words had died on her lips as she entered to find him seated at the sheriff's bedside – silent as stone, fingers of his one good hand tangled with hers, hook resting on the covers where the metal gleamed sharply in the dim light. He had raised a dark brow in questioning challenge, but had not moved or made a sound. No direct threat had been uttered, but it was clear he was not going anywhere without a fight, and from then on they had allowed him to remain.

Regina brings Henry faithfully as well, timing it so that Emma and Killian are not alone long after whichever of her parents has made the afternoon visit is gone. In truth, Killian is grateful for the company. He can only sit so long talking to Emma with no response – no twinkle of her laughing eyes, no sassy comebacks for his best witty flirtations – without wanting to beg her to return, to collapse to his knees, to give into the tide of despair he feels hovering in the back of his consciousness as each day and then night goes by with no change in her.

An IV has been put in, to get fluids and nutrients to her, and though he knows it was necessary, Killian feels a sense of nausea climb up his throat at the thought of her being so helpless, how much she would hate not even being able to feed herself or take a drink of water. His Swan is stubborn to a fault, not willing to give up an inch, wanting to handle all that life throws at her with her own strength and her own two hands. If she were aware of what was going on around her, it would be driving her mad. What really sends him over the edge though is the confirmation that she truly is not present with him; she doesn't know what is happening around her and she can't do it for herself. He continually has to push down the fear that she will not ever again.

After the first two days, it is determined that there is no further swelling or dangerous intracranial pressure. Continued observation reveals Emma's pulse and blood pressure regulating back to normal and her pupils' return to near equal size. Each note is received gratefully by her loved ones, but Emma remains in her distant, suspended state. Dr. Whale tries to caution them all that the brain has its own way and time frame for healing. They need to stay positive, keep visiting and talking to her. He assures them that he has no indication she will not come out of her coma once her body is fully healed and ready, but he also cannot explain to them why it has not already occurred.

A feeding tube is mentioned on the night Emma has been in the hospital a week, and Killian is more relieved than words can say when her father protests rather strongly, asking them to give her a day or two more to wake up before taking that step. The process would not have driven Killian away; he would have been there at her side, squeezing her hand in his, trying to offer her comfort whether Emma was aware of it or not, but seeing plastic tubing forced down his love's throat while she is unaware and can't fight back or speak for herself on the matter – even if it is meant to help her – seems somehow cruel and barbaric to him. Killian honestly is not sure he has the resolve to stand by and allow it without falling apart, much less to be present and watch.

Gradually, with his extended constant presence, the former pirate has grown on Emma's two regular nurses. Though both the day and night nurses had been disapproving at first of this dark, forbidding man disregarding all their rules and haunting their halls, his obvious devotion, his desire to do anything he could to help, and his charming nature had won them over. The day nurse now greets him as she arrives each morning, giving him a maternal smile and encouraging his hope by asking if there has been any change in Emma over the night. The night nurse has more than once covered him with a blanket upon her arrival, finding him asleep in the chair right next to Emma's bed. She cannot help but admire a man who loves that deeply and holds on so tightly; she finds herself anxiously awaiting their little town's sheriff waking to see who she has in her corner.

As Emma's unconsciousness stretches beyond a week, and then two, the hospital staff watches more carefully than ever for respiratory distress. Due to her inability to swallow, they begin suctioning her mouth and trachea when necessary, wanting to prevent any chance of aspiration. After failing to get Killian to leave while the procedure is accomplished, they show him how Emma must first be turned to lie on her side, and he then gently holds her in place while they carry out their task. Emma's pirate remains undeterred by anything she needs from him, only wanting to aid in her comfort, to do anything that might help, might keep her safe until she returns to them. His hands are steadying on her shoulders; he can tell that even unawares the suctioning must cause discomfort from the crinkle that forms between her brows, which he lovingly smoothes with a tender touch. He aches to take the distress from her, and so he watches over her religiously, brushing her hair back from her clammy forehead, watching for even the tiniest hint of movement.

Once all visitors and staff have cleared out for the night and they are alone again, that is when Killian Jones can do nothing more than pull the blankets back over her, take her hand once more, kiss her palm, and whisper to her. "Come, Love, surely you've had more than enough of this. Open your eyes, Darling…please. I am not giving up on you. I know you can find your way back. You are too stubborn by half to let this beat you. This…cannot…be your end."

It is only then, as darkness falls in the middle of the night, the halls are quiet, and Killian is sure no one will see, that he lets his strength crumble. His weeping is silent and fleeting, but his shoulders shake, unable to throw off the fear that his princess has finally gone where he cannot follow.

~~~~~~000~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~0000~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma feels as though she is swimming through a hazy dream world, floating unaware and unconcerned by any of the worries, any of the cares that normally tie her down. She feels no pressure, no impending doom from some new villain, no worry over whether she is doing right by her son, spending enough time with her new baby brother and her parents, serving her newfound home as both sheriff and princess the way all expect of her. No sounds disturb the easy quiet surrounding her, wrapping her up like a warm, soft blanket. It almost feels as though she could close her eyes and sleep for hours, days even, and it wouldn't matter at all. There would be nothing to stop her.

As quickly as that thought comes though, her calm is somehow shaken by a tremor of fear. Sleep for days? No one there to notice or worry about her? No sounds, nothing to see, nothing to do? Something isn't right, and on the heels of that realization comes the awareness that she cannot seem to open her eyes to see where she is or what is happening. She cannot make her arms and legs move or respond to her gradually growing distress. Emma wants to open her mouth to cry out, but her lips don't part and no sound escapes. The cozy grey haze that had seemed so comforting mere moments ago has become a thickening fog strangling her and pulling her down into its depths.

A soothing croon breaks through the darkness surrounding her. Emma cannot immediately place the speaker, but she knows instinctively that this is a voice she loves, a voice she feels comforted by amidst the nothingness surrounding her. "Open your eyes, Darling…please…" the lilting voice pleads, and desperately, painstakingly, with every bit of determination and energy she came muster, Emma moves toward that sound – or at least she attempts to. She surfaces from the sea of swirling fog and finally opens her eyes.

v. welcome back, love

Joyous pandemonium is not an exaggeration for the scene in Emma's room just an hour after her waking. Despite Dr. Whale and the nurses' repeated cautions that they are still in a hospital, that the other patients should not be disturbed, and that Emma should not be overexcited after being unconscious for so long, Emma's family can't help their enthusiasm and relief. Henry is unable to cease motion; one moment he practically bounces on the balls of his feet at the foot of her bed, and the next he shuttles forward to hug her again, as tightly as he dares, and then backs away as if afraid he will break her.

For her own part, Emma never wants her son to let go, but she is still dazed and can barely speak around the lump in her throat, so she wordlessly lets him do as he will. She catches Regina's eye over his head more than once, and though the queen only gives her a silent nod of understanding, Emma senses that even her former adversary is relieved at her return. David keeps bringing her water, trying to smuggle snacks to her, and pestering her for anything else she might need which he can fetch. Snow simply stands at her shoulder, looking at her with a teary smile, and bouncing Emma's baby brother gently in her arms. It is more than a bit chaotic after the absolute peace and quiet Emma has been stuck in for so long…and she loves it.

It had been a different matter when she first opened her eyes an hour ago. Relief had flooded through her upon finding Killian there, fingers of his good hand wound up with hers, speaking to her through the quiet dark. Emma had been so glad she was not irrevocably lost in the grey vacuum of her subconscious that it had taken her a few stunned, blinking moments before registering her sailor's motionless shock, and how he could not cease staring at her with wide, disbelieving eyes over tear-streaked, unshaven cheeks - drinking her in as though she might vanish from his sight once more and trying several times to speak before finally stuttering out her name. "Em – Emma? You can hear me?"

She wanted to tease him, to break the tense emotional stakes and make him laugh the hearty, uninhibited guffaw she had only recently learned he possessed. Instinctively though – knowing what he must have gone through if he was sitting there looking as bedraggled as he did while she found herself in a hospital bed – Emma bit back any smart retort on the tip of her tongue and squeezed Killian's hand gently, merely nodding her head in response to his question. She realized just how dry and unused her throat felt anyway; speech seemed a bit more of a challenge than she had expected.

Killian had not seemed at all disappointed by her stillness. The smile that crept over his face at her barest of responses was near blinding and adorably accented by the laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Leaning over her, he delicately cradled Emma's face in hand and hook, then kissed her forehead. It might have appeared awkward to an outside observer, but Emma found the gesture immensely comforting. Still gaining her bearings, she swallowed hard, looking up to him for answers.

Her captain seemed to understand, as he always did, what she was thinking. "You've been out for more than two weeks, Swan. And…I will admit…you had me worried." He paused, seeming to need a moment to rein in his own reaction, brushing his fingers through her hair as he did. When he continued, his voice was suspiciously husky. "I must go find your doctor. He will no doubt want to check you over now that you're awake. I shall call your boy and your parents too; they have missed you tremendously."

She nodded her agreement, sensing that Killian hesitated to leave her alone, and gave him an encouraging smile. Secretly, she was thinking how good it felt to wake up to someone looking on her with such love. It was something she had been missing her entire life, and with him, it had been there the whole time – she had only needed to finally see. Twice in the last month, she had nearly lost this; first to Gold's attempt to crush Killian's heart, and now to her accident. Suddenly, Emma was clear on just how much she would be missing without this man in her life, how much she wanted to rest in his adoring gaze every night and wake up to it each morning.

His small upturn of the mouth showed once again that Killian possessed the ability to read at least some small portion of what was on her mind. "I will be but a moment," he assured her as he stood, then leaned back in with a whisper in her ear and teasing glint of white teeth in a happy grin. "Welcome back, Love."

Now, in the midst of the rest of her loved ones, and the night nurse who Emma can immediately see has fallen right under the spell of her pirate's irresistible charm, hugs are flying non-stop, and everyone seems to chatter and laugh at once, both in trying to fill her in on all that she has missed, and back and forth with each other. Emma feels wrapped in a warm, noisy nest of chatter and touch and genuine belonging, and instead of feeling smothered or pressured to respond in the right way, she simply feels happy and grateful to be back.

Killian is still hovering at her elbow. He smiles and nods along with what is said, responds when he is spoken to, but she can tell he is still shaken, still anxiously watching her, making sure she is alright. It is as though he had sat beside her standing guard for so long, fearing she was about to be snatched away from him, that he cannot yet relax and believe the ordeal is over.

As their miniature party breaks up and the rest of the group files out with embraces and promises to return in the morning when she is at last released to go home, Emma finds herself wondering how to comfort him. It was not so long ago that she had been standing frozen in the clock tower, powerless to do anything but watch as the Dark One prepared to kill her pirate. The anguish on his face when their eyes had met in that terrible moment; the corresponding pressure gripping her own chest as his heart was squeezed, and the irrevocable knowledge that Killian was slipping away from her against her will, were still incredibly fresh. The memory haunted her in ways she did not know how to express or assuage. Emma was all too well acquainted with how Killian might be feeling now, but what she didn't know was if she could provide any comfort when she had been the reason for his pain.

"Hey," she whispers, holding out a hand to him, urging her pirate closer to where the bed was raised for her to mostly sit up and interact with her guests more easily, "come here, Captain." Her voice is still a bit hoarse and strained from disuse, but Killian hears it immediately and is at her side almost before she has finished speaking. He had still been at the door from seeing everyone off, but upon her request, he is with her in an instant.

"What is it, Love? Are you in pain? Do you need something?" His hand hovers over her anxiously, smoothing back her hair and brushing over her shoulder, not sure where to settle.

If she doesn't stop him, Emma is pretty sure he will dart away again, off to fetch her something she doesn't even want, when all she needs is him – to draw him close and let him hold her. She isn't sure which one of them needs the contact more, but it has become a desperate necessity. "No! Killian, wait…" she swallows and licks her lips, trying to make her voice sound less scratchy and to gather her nerve. It may be the lingering weakness in her system, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable, but she finds herself needing to take the leap, to let Killian know he is as important to her as she is to him. "I'm fine. It's just…I just…I need you."

His gaze, as deep and blue as the ocean he loves, depthless and encompassing, warms her as he takes her in, almost as though he cannot believe her confession. "Of course…Emma. Anything you want, I will do. I promise, Darling."

Emma's throat nearly closes up at the glassiness of his eyes and the way his voice goes raspy with feeling. She knows by now that Killian Jones does not make a vow lightly, and her yearning surges even higher at his words. Biting her lip, she reaches to take his hand once more, tugs gently, and pats the space beside her on the mattress, before whispering, "Then come here…please…I need you to hold me. I…I th-thought you were gone…"

The hesitant look on her pirate's face is so worried and careful that it makes Emma want to giggle. If anyone who had known him as the fearsome Captain Hook could see him now, it would be hard to believe he was the same man. Yet, Emma can see the truth; his strength and daring have never faded, nor his dashing looks and unwavering air of command, but the drive and determination which had twisted into hatred and pursuit of revenge were once again fixed on heroism – and his commitment to her. "I don't want to unknowingly do you harm," he says anxiously, while refusing to meet her eyes.

"You won't," she breathes, pleading in her gaze when he finally meets it again, "unless you don't get in here." She gives him a playful wink as further reassurance and scoots over until she lies on her side, facing him with her back against the bedrail. She moves the IV so he won't pull it from her arm accidentally and then watches him and waits.

Heaving a sigh, Killian acquiesces, and though he wants to be sure not to hurt her, she knows he is craving the closeness as well. After shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it on the nearby chair and removing his shoes, he finally clambers gingerly up onto the bed next to her. Stretching full length on his side facing her, Killian leans in, nuzzling his nose gently over hers and kissing her lightly, still chaste and soft, but full of intense care. "Alright now, Swan?" he asks.

"Nearly," she responds a bit breathlessly. She reaches out to curl her fingers around the metal curve of his hook, taking this moment to make clear something he should already know. She is not repulsed by or fearful of his appendage – it is merely an extension of him. Pulling the blunted limb toward her body, Emma rests the arm on her hip, letting the hook wrap around her back. Then, she snuggles closer, fisting her hand in his shirt and burying her face in his warm chest.

They lie together like that for some time, comforted by the quiet closeness, heartbeats fitting to one another's rhythm. Finally, she pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye. Her words are fierce with passion when she speaks again. "I love you, Killian Jones. Don't you ever doubt that again."

He pulls her back, fervently ghosting his response with his lips at her temple. "You must know I feel the same, Emma. My love for you will never change – as long as either of us live."

The kiss that follows soothes both their fraught, churning hearts and finally brings the peace that both of them seek. Emma's hand finds the short hair at the nape of Killian's neck and begins to stroke through the dark strands. Killian's fear and sleepless vigil catch up to him in her embrace, and he soon drifts off to sleep. It isn't long before his warm, solid presence curled around her protectively does the same thing for Emma and she follows him into slumber.

Anyone else in Storybrooke General that night who peeks into Emma Swan's room cannot help but be touched by the sight of the lost princess- savior and her pirate prince finally at home…with each other. Right there for all to see is a vision of two healing souls finally granted a miracle.

Tagging a few who might enjoy (or have never seen this oldie!) : @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @drowned-dreamer @xarandomdreamx @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @statustemporary @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kazoosandfannypacks @zaharadessert @lfh1226-linda @wefoundloveunderthelight @mie779 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @bdevereaux @justanother-unluckysoul @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @ilovemesomekillianjones @thislassishooked @grimmswan

#self promo sunday #cs canon divergent ff #wintry cs angst #darkness before dawn (leave hopes light on)#ouat s4 canon divergent ff #cs five part mc ff #ouat ff

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exhaustedpirate · 9 months

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parent for hire

As mentioned in the prologue post, let me know if you'd like to be included in the tag list for this project! From this post on, I will be uploading moodboards made by me. This project will have a constant "THANK YOU" to @kmomof4 for making this whole thing possible!

Chapter One - The Rescue

word count: 2772 words

rating: Teen and Up

tag list: @cocohook38

read on AO3 | prologue

Killian Jones always got his bounty.

Since he began his solo career as a bounty hunter, he could count on one hand the ones that had escaped him. His successes had helped his reputation soar and had given him a name of his own. Hook.

And with a name of his own, he gained some competition, and some enemies.

One of them was Blackbeard - a ruthless man without a shred of honour.

Killian tried to make his coin in a way his former Captain would be proud of, honorably. He would accept bounties to capture criminals, to help people. There were times he would slip - innocent people were sometimes worth a lot of gold - but those were few and far between.

He wasn't sure where his most recent bounty fit. His employer had been vague - a large sum of gold to capture a wizard. No indication as to why or what they intended to do with him. Killian's history with wizards made him uninterested in asking those questions. As far as he was concerned, he would be quite happy to rid the world of another one.

His heart stuttered as he thought of what he lost, the hook on his left hand feeling heavier than before, the weight on his chest suffocating. He heard her pleas, his own cries of pain. Magic served only to destroy.

He shook his head, wanting out of the memory, returning his focus to the present. He urged Roger forward, matching his heart rate to the horse's foot falls. Seemingly understanding his mood, Roger's path veered towards the beach, keeping close to the water.

Luckily, Glowerhaven was a coastal kingdom. It was also where Killian knew Blackbeard’s lair was located.

According to his employer, Blackbeard had been hired to bring in the bounty but was now refusing to deliver, making the wizard's retrieval much more difficult for his employer than necessary. That had earned Killian a far bigger reward.

He wasn't surprised to find out that the old pirate was the one that had his bounty. Nor was he surprised that he was giving their employer trouble. Blackbeard was as greedy as he was despicable, and he undoubtedly thought there was more gold to be had by spreading the story of his exploits in capturing the bounty and then handing it off to the one with the deepest pockets rather than delivering it to their employer. But Blackbeard’s stories, Killian had learned, should always be taken with a grain of salt. He may have heard the bounty was dangerous, but… well, he’d see when he got there. Right now though, those stories weren’t even close to Killian’s greatest concern.

Killian's only worry as he stood hidden near the entrance of the cave where Blackbeard had his hideout was the fact that, for once, it wasn't a fair fight - there seemed to be at least 5 other pirates huddled inside. He counted his bullets, confirmed that his sword and daggers were still in place, employed his signature swagger and bravado, and made his way to the entrance.

Two pirates standing guard held him at sword and gun point while Killian pretended to simply be there to talk to their boss. They seemed confident; that was good. Confident meant sloppy. They obviously believed that the close proximity of their sword and gun to his neck and gut, respectively, would keep him in line.

Blackbeard sat with his smug, golden-toothed smile welcoming him like an old friend. Anyone could see the glint of murder in his eye, however, and Killian knew that one wrong move could send him to an early grave.

Thankfully for him, his past encounters with Blackbeard had given him a tried and true technique to victory. The old pirate may be ruthless, but he was defeatable.

"I thought I smelled you in town," Killian said jovially with a wide grin, holding out his arms as far as he could with the other two henchmen at his side.

"And I should have known that you wouldn't miss out on the gold." Blackbeard seemed to be playing the same game as he - fake pleasantries over an underlying tone of menace.

"The stories I’ve been hearing,” Killian shrugged before he continued, “I thought you'd be willing to share if I helped you bring it in." He wasn't even trying to hide the lie. It didn't matter.

He wasn't surprised when the captain and his crew burst out laughing at his words. He was counting on it, in fact - an over the top suggestion to distract them enough for him to grab hold of the dagger literally hidden up his sleeve.

"Thank you, Hook, I needed a laugh," Blackbeard said breathlessly as he wiped an imaginary tear. "As if I would ever need your help… or another pocket to share my gold."

"It was worth a try, don't you think? I heard the job was dangerous. And let's be honest, mate, the members of your crew are not exactly the sharpest." Killian grinned as he clicked his hook against the sword against his neck. He also took this moment to take a closer look at the crew and assess his situation.

There was only one gun among the 5 crew members and none on Blackbeard. The bastard wasn't exactly reserved in his use of arms, shooting his guns at anyone who crossed his path. He seemed to forget that acquiring bullets was expensive and Killian could only conclude he didn’t have the gold to spend on acquiring more.

He could see a cutlass on each pirate. Which of course did not include the numerous - he was sure - daggers hidden on their collective persons. They were pirates after all.

"Dangerous…" Blackbeard chuckled. "Well, that’s not exactly true…” he shrugged. “Had to make the story a little more interesting, you know.” Blackbeard pulled on a chain as the pirates holding their weapons against him turned Killian towards the person at the end of said chains.

It was a boy.

"What is this?!" His surprised shout echoed in the cave.

"This, my friend," Blackbeard began, pulling the chains so that the boy awoke from his slumber. "is the bounty. As you can see, it wasn't as difficult to acquire as you heard."

It had to be a trick. Powerful mages were known to hide their true appearance, trick their attackers - that had to be what was happening here.

The bounty, now fully awake, sat up with effort, his wrists chained up. He was pale, as if his life had been sucked from him. The child's eyes landed on him - such despair, such fear contained within. Killian caught his breath, and for a moment, it was as if he was looking in the mirror.

Blackbeard seemed unaware of Killian's inner turmoil, however. With another tug, he sent the boy sprawling on the floor and Killian took an instinctive step towards them only to stop when he felt the cold metal still held at his throat. The boy whined, clearly weak.

"It was like taking candy from a babe,” Blackbeard gloated. “He was so scared, he didn't even put up a fight."

Similar statements echoed in his head, a hint of the panic he had felt - what seemed like centuries ago - constricting his chest. Where that sentence gave Blackbeard an obvious and deep satisfaction, it caused sympathy to rise up in Killian. With a heave, Blackbeard held the chains up, forcing the boy to his feet. With his other hand, he grabbed the boy's face in his. "Isn't that right, brat? You even begged."

The boy's fear was like a physical thing, a weight in Killian's gut. Had he, so long ago, been that different from this child?

Making a split second decision, Killian used his hook to push the sword away from his neck while with his other hand holding the dagger, he slashed the gun-wielding pirate in his stomach. At the same time, knowing he would pull the trigger, Killian took a step back - the expected shot hitting the other pirate instead of him.

Two down, four to go.

"Get him!" Blackbeard shouted, once he realized what was happening. The boy, no longer being held, fell in a heap on the floor.

The dagger still in his hand was thrown at another pirate’s chest. Moving quickly, Killian removed a dagger from his right boot. Ducking to avoid an opposing dagger, he sunk his into the approaching pirate’s side.

Four down, two to go.

The last pirate approached him fast. Killian kicked him away, giving himself time to unsheathe his sword. Blackbeard wasn’t known to employ the smartest of men - you didn’t need smart, you needed a body able to follow orders and withstand the rough life at sea. Killian had training and his wits, his adversary didn’t. Brute force was nothing without accuracy. Killian’s sword slashing his enemy's thigh as his hook sank into his shoulder was enough to bring the man down.

“Useless rats!” Blackbeard raged, wielding his sword. “It won’t be so easy to get through me, boy!”

He was right. Killian had had enough run-ins with Blackbeard to know that he was indeed a much more formidable swordsman than his crew. Not enough to worry him, however.

It might be extremely arrogant of him to think that way with a very real enemy eager to end his life standing in front of him, but Killian knew his own strengths and he knew how to win.

Movement to the side drew his attention. As he stopped Blackbeard’s strike to his head with his sword and hook, he could see the boy shuffle to a sitting position. Blackbeard’s hold on the boy’s face had left a mark. There were two deep red marks on his cheeks, a stark contrast against the paleness of his face.

A grunt from his rival drew his concentration back, he ought to be paying attention to the danger in front of him. The fight was taking too long. Killian needed to end it before any other pirates showed up.

Summoning his strength, Killian pushed the sword away from his face, forcing it to the side. Dropping his own sword, Killian threw a mighty punch to the pirate’s face. With a quick glance towards the boy, he kicked Blackbeard away. With the boy pulling the chains taught, Blackbeard tripped, sending him falling back and hitting his head on the wall.

Only waiting a second to guarantee the unconsciousness of his rival and to grab his dropped sword, Killian made his way to the boy.

How could a boy so small be considered such a threat? A threat worth such a high bounty? Perhaps he was more dangerous than they all thought.

As he reconsidered his decision to free him, the child looked at him.

He had heard of spells cast with only a look. But what he felt wasn’t magic, it was recognition. He saw himself in the boy. He looked at him with fear but with an underlying feeling of hope. There was stubborn determination hidden in his thinned lips. The mirror staring back at him.

He hadn't asked what they wanted to do with him. He hadn't cared. Was he just as bad a man as his own father willing to lead a child to an uncertain future? No child deserved such a fate.

In an impulsive move, Killian brought his hook down on the chains. He heard the child’s breath catch as he surely expected a mortal strike. Luckily, the chains broke immediately. They locked eyes once more. Surprise took the place of fear and Killian couldn’t help but notice how the child’s face slowly gained color, seeming more alive.

Magic chains, no doubt.

With a centering breath, Killian held out his hand to the child.

“What do you say we get out of here, lad?”

The child seemed to look for something in his gaze. Killian expected to feel the invasive nature of magic searching his soul, his intentions. But there was nothing.

But when the boy - having found whatever he was looking for - took his hand, he felt warmth. Magic or not, it felt good. Magic had never felt good before.

He wasn’t aware of his held breath until he released it. Giving his head a slight shake, - he needed to focus - he looked around. The room they were in was still full of dead pirates and one unconscious captain, but he could hear others farther back in the cave.

The boy's hand was limp in his grasp and he noticed his difficulty in standing up, his body weak. The cuffs that had been on his wrists had obviously drained him, exhausted him.

“Let’s go,” Killian tugged the boy's hand, his left shoulder carefully placed on his midsection. Standing up, the boy rested comfortably on Killian's shoulder. "Try to hold on, lad. It's going to be a bumpy ride."

He felt the boy's grip on his vest, strong enough to urge him into a run. It wasn’t long, unfortunately, until he heard thundering steps behind them. The other pirates were gaining on them, fast.

The child’s weight on his shoulder slowed Killian's rushed steps. Killian could hear the horse outside the cave guiding them in the right direction, the night’s full moon thankfully lighting their way.

"Look out!" The boy's croaky warning rang out as Killian heard the whizzing of a dagger thrown at them, cutting his cheek but sinking into a nearby tree just outside the mouth of the cave.

Daggers. Of course, he should have expected it.

With a groan, Killian pulled the child to his arms. The horse was close, he needed to get the boy on it as fast as possible if they were going to escape.

He felt the boy's eyes on him, more specifically on the cut on his cheek.

"We're almost out of here, lad," Killian reassured, thinking the boy's gaze was of apprehension.

It seemed Killian Jones was in for a few more surprises.

It was as if time slowed down as the child wriggled out of his hold, landing on his hands and knees on the ground. Not wasting another moment, he watched as the child closed his eyes and held out his hands. A wave of energy, like a summer wind, burst from the child. When he looked at the previously-approaching pirates, they were all sprawled on the ground, unconscious.

Killian stared at the boy. He had known - had been told and feared - that he was a powerful mage, but seeing such a small child produce such impressive magic was both astounding and terrifying.

“My name is Henry, by the way,” he said as he sat back on his heels and turned to Killian with a genial smile.

Before Killian could respond, they were interrupted by a whooshing sound and an orange light in front of them. That old bastard had been hiding a magic bean. It had likely been dislodged in the blast of Henry’s magic and activated. It was their best chance of escape.

"We have to go."

Rushing to the horse and untangling its leash from the tree, Killian mounted the animal. He and Roger moved quickly towards Henry, Killian reaching out a hand for the boy who seemed more interested in looking into the horse’s eyes. He raised his eyebrow at the boy, apprehensively glancing at the portal.

"What's his name?" Henry asked, keeping his gaze on the beast.

Safe to say, the question caught him off guard. "What?"

"The horse, what's his name?"

"You are seriously asking me this now?" Killian balked, pointing at the portal in front of them. "We have to go!" "It's rude not to ask for his name if I'm going to ride on him." Henry looked at him with clear and innocent eyes.

Killian sighed, looking up at the sky for a moment. "It's Roger. Happy?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

Henry smiled brightly, holding up his hand. Killian pulled him up and deposited him behind him on Roger’s back. He rushed him forward as fast as he could, not wanting to let the portal go to waste.

“I’m Killian, by the way. Killian Jones,” he said as the boy wrapped his arms around his torso, his hold stronger than before.

He thought he could feel the boy's bright smile once again at his back. “Thank you, Killian Jones.” Henry’s words were the last thing he heard before the deafening sound of the portal took over as they approached and crossed.

He tried not to let his thundering heart and conflicting thoughts distract him from the sweltering heat and spice smell of Agrabah.

#cssns23 #ouat fic #ouat ff #killian jones #captain hook #henry mills #ouat #once upon a time #captain cobra #captaincobra #carolina writes #blackbeard #introducing roger the horse #parent for hire

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cosette141 · 11 months

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Lost and Found | OUAT fanfic | Chapter 13

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Author: cosette141

Words: 74k total | 5k (this chapter)

Summary: (Begin Again sequel) Emma had felt lost nearly her whole life, and Killian had lost everything he’d ever found. That is, until they found each other. With the Crocodile dead and Cora turned good, it seems happy endings have returned. However, new crises arise, threatening the budding family between them and Henry. But this is a family that always finds each other… and they have yet to fail. CS, Anti-Neal

AO3

Chapter 13 (under the cut!)

Walking out of Skull Rock was like walking into a brand new world.

Because it was no longer night.

The sky was bright blue, the shine of the sun casting warmth over the island that had felt so cold in so many ways. Seeing it in this light, it was the first time Emma actually saw beauty in the land.

Half the Lost Boys went off to get the flint they needed, and presumably to retrieve anything or any of their brothers that were still about the island. Two Boys stayed with Emma, Killian and her parents, watching them warily, like they still didn't know if they'd be left behind, no matter how many times Mary Margaret turned around to assure them they wouldn't be, her gaze always lingering on Emma, like the words were for her as much as for them.

Emma, Mary Margaret and David were still quite lost on where the ship was, but Killian seemed to know exactly where Neal had docked the ship. He led them, his hand tightly in Emma's, in a way Emma didn't think he would ever release.

Which was perfectly fine with her.

Emma could feel Killian's tension, a slight urgency in his pace, and she felt the same. She couldn't wait to get the hell of this island, Pan or no Pan. She just wanted to be back home with him, her parents and with Henry, whom she missed so badly it hurt.

They made it to the ship within an hour, and if not for the adrenaline still running through her, Emma would have collapsed from the exhaustion of both the hike and the past few days. Only minutes afterward, footsteps pounded up the gangplank, revealing the now-bigger group of Lost Boys who were severely out of breath.

"I got the flint," said the Boy who had spoken up in the caves. He hesitantly gave it to Killian, fingers shaking.

Killian smiled tiredly, visibly reluctant to remove his hand from Emma's to take it. Emma's hand felt instantly empty, and her fingers found his jacket, and if she wasn't mistaken, there was an ease in his face when he felt her grab it. Taking the flit from the boy, Killian said, "Aye, brilliant job, Slightly."

The Boy—Slightly—raised his brows in surprise at hearing Killian speak his name. But, a little delayed, the boy smiled.

"Would you and your brothers mind helping me with the gangplank and the sails?" asked Killian. He was given a nod, and the boys ran off to complete the tasks, looking like they were as eager to get off the island as Emma was.

Killian took a breath, then bent with a hiss, his hooked arm moving quickly to hug his ribs.

"Killian?" asked Emma reflexively, her other hand moving to help, but he gave her a winced smile, and used the flint to draw what looked like his own outline with the flint. And with a gasp, Emma watched his Shadow appear, separating from him. It was his own silhouette, even complete with the shadow of his hook.

"You know where to take us," said Killian to the Shadow, who nodded, and Emma could only watch in shocked awe. Killian's Shadow flew to the mast, hand and hook latching under one of the wooden rods and lifted. The ship was pulled out of the water, making Emma grab one the side of the ship with her free hand to steady herself, her parents and the boys doing the same. But soon, the ship had leveled off in the sky, and Emma would still never get quite used to the awe of magic.

"We should be back in Storybrooke within the span of a day," said Killian, who was still on one knee after removing his Shadow. He moved to stand, only to cringe sharply, groaning, a hand grasping at his ribs.

"Killian—" said Emma, quickly wrapping an arm around him, helping him stand. Huffing out a concerned, yet exasperated breath, she admonished gently, "I knew I should have just healed you back in the caves."

"I am in no danger other than comfort, love," said Killian, giving her a winced grin for good measure.

Emma didn't smile back. "Yeah, well that's what I was afraid of." She started to pull him to go below deck. "Let's go. I'm healing you now whether you like it or not."

"As you wish," said Killian, with a soft smile. "However, someone needs to keep an eye on the ship."

"I can do it," chimed in David. "Go rest, Hook." he said, with a touch of both exasperation and fondness, and Emma still couldn't believe that only days ago, David was punching Killian across the jaw and threatening to kill him.

It was still crazy to her how so much could change in such a small amount of time.

And even crazier that it all had changed for the better. Something that she was definitely not used to in her life

Namely, the most important of them being the man pressed to her side, whose jacket was still tightly clutched in her fingers.

Killian inclined his head, genuinely saying, "Thank you." Then, he cleared his throat, looking at both him and Mary Margaret. "Thank you both for aiding Emma in coming to rescue me," he said heavily, inclining his head. "I am highly in your debt."

Mary Margaret smiled. "After everything you've done for Emma, and for us, it's us who are in yours. You were only here because you saved Henry, after all," said Mary Margaret, tears in her eyes, making Emma's own sting, and her hold Killian a little tighter.

Killian, seeming unable to find words, nodded his thanks for the gratitude.

Leaving Mary Maragert and David to the helm, Killian's only instruction was to alert him when they saw the town, and that it would be a few hours before they did.

Emma helped Killian to his cabin, his pace far slower than it had been on the hike back to the ship, and Emma suddenly realized that his tension and stiffness earlier had been far less about urgency, and far more about hiding his pain.

She felt her own pained exasperation at the realization.

They reached his cabin, and Emma helped him lean against the pillows on his bed. The moment he did, he hissed sharply through his teeth, the knuckles of his hand even whiter than before, where he clutched his vest over his ribs, only proving more and more just how much he'd been trying to keep it to himself. Killian's eyes opened, breathing out, looking like he was finally experiencing some relief being off his feet. "I'm all right, love," he promised at her worried gaze.

"You should have just let me heal you," she chastised gently again, sitting down carefully on the bed next to him.

"You've done that enough, believe me," he said, voice soft, grateful, and like it was the last thing he wanted to ask more of.

Emma shook her head with an exasperated sigh, but smiled at him anyway. She started to pull the bottom of his shirt up to heal him, hoping her magic would work on command again, when a gentle hand suddenly touched her face, making her look at Killian. When she did, his eyes were on hers, the blue in his eyes vivid and strong. He gently pulled her toward him, meeting her lips, and Emma felt her eyes shut, felt the relief of a kiss that wasn't fueled by desperation. Her hand found his neck, fingers tousling in his hair, meeting his tenderness in the quiet moment.

It was the opposite of their kiss before going to face Pan; a kiss that had been fearful and passionate, a promise that it would happen again.

This was soft, it was slow, it was the fulfillment of that promise.

They pulled apart simultaneously, and Emma opened her eyes, surprised to find that a tear had fallen down her cheek, and even more surprised to find his eyes misty as well.

They both watched each other in the quiet, just reveling in the moment for what it was. They were here, safe, together.

Killian's thumb brushed away the tear on Emma's cheek, smiling at her, and Emma has never, not once, ever felt a softness like this—like him—before.

But Emma suddenly remembered he was hurt. "Will you please let me heal you now?" she asked with a smile, brushing her thumb across his cheek.

"I feel entirely healed already," he responded just as softly, and Emma didn't even detect a lie in those blue eyes. "However, if you insist."

She smiled, sitting up and lifting his shirt to display the dark bruising across his abdomen, making her brows crease. She lifted her hands, about to try to pull forth her magic, when she caught his expression, almost like he realized something that amused him.

"What?" asked Emma, pausing.

"I believe," said Killian, "that we have done this before, love." He smiled, though the amusement with the irony faded as his hand reached up to brush the back of his fingers over her forehead, and Emma knew it had been where Gold had given her the concussion in New York. Emma blinked, seeing him lying on his bed and herself perched beside him, realizing they were their own mirror of themselves from that moment she woke up on his ship.

"I much prefer it like this," said Killian softly, brows creased, like he was remembering when the skin he'd brushed over had been as broken as both of them had been, before they found home in each other.

Though warmth trickled through her skin from his touch, Emma didn't smile, remembering seeing him crumpled on the ground in the caves, imagining the worst. "Well, I don't." She gently touched her palms to his skin, whispering an apology when he jerked a little at the tender injury, and she shut her eyes, imagining him healed.

Her magic came at her wish, and she smiled as she felt it flow through her, opening her eyes to watch the white glow touch his skin over the bruising. Killian's eyes shut, lines of pain receding from his face as the bruising faded from black to blue to his unharmed, tanned skin.

And not a moment after the glow faded, his injury healed, his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into him. He held her tightly to him, like it was something he had waited centuries to do, and Emma melted into his chest, shutting her eyes to the feel of his embrace.

Killian.

Emma felt another set of tears touch her closed eyes, her fingers finding his coat like they always seemed to, breathing in his scent, reveling in the movement of his chest, and the heartbeat beneath it.

She remembered like it was both yesterday and years ago, kneeling on the docks next to Henry, seeing the blood and imagining the worst. Feeling like it was a break her heart wouldn't survive.

But he was okay.

He was here, she was safely in his arms, and he was okay.

"Thank you, Emma."

His voice was rough like a ship that had finally passed into the eye of a storm, weathered but in reprieve. Damaged but still whole. Fearful, but safe.

Emma smiled against his chest. "You don't have to thank me for healing you," she said softly. "To be honest, I think I wanted it more than you did," she joked.

She felt his smile, and somehow knew it was strained. "Aye, of course, thank you for healing me," he said, and she felt his thumb brush her shoulder. "However… I meant…" His voice hitched a little, and Emma felt his heart stutter in his chest. "Thank you for… coming to Neverland," he said, voice so quiet, covered in disbelief like a forgotten room in dust. His arms around her tightened, this time a little less out of protection and care, and a little more out of fear. "Thank you for saving me, Emma," he whispered.

Emma lifted herself a little off his chest to turn to see his face, and he reluctantly loosened his hold on her a little to let her. She was startled to find a tear had fallen down his cheek.

Feeling so acutely aware of where they were, of the moment she'd woken up on his bed to concerned blue eyes, Emma smiled something broken and whole. "Thank you for saving me," she whispered.

She could still remember it, could still remember the pain, the fear, and seeing him knelt beside her in that apartment in New York.

In that moment, she'd been afraid of Killian. Or, rather, of Hook.

It was one of the most vulnerable moments of her life, and the most broken she's ever been.

He didn't have to save her.

He could have killed Gold and left her.

But instead, he killed his crocodile for her, and stayed to pick up her pieces, to put her back together again.

She'd broken in that moment, all at once, shattering like glass, and she could still feel him grab her, pull her into his arms, his embrace feeling like it was both foreign and like home.

"Don't leave."

"I promise you, Emma. I am not going anywhere."

And here he was, still here, still with her, keeping that promise as safe and whole as she felt here now, with him.

She went from being afraid of him, to being afraid to be without him.

From meeting his lie that day in the Enchanted Forest, to lying with his truth each night.

She went from just surviving her life, suffocating beneath her walls, to finding a reason to truly live, and it was him.

He not only saved her life; he brought her to life.

And somehow, she did the same for him.

Everything changed in one moment, in that apartment in New York.

The moment that Emma thought would be her last, became the moment her life truly began.

Killian's hand suddenly settled at her cheek, thumb below her ear, stroking her skin, and she nearly shut her eyes to the feeling. Part of his gaze seemed far away, and somehow Emma knew he was reminiscing their history, that day, just like she was. "That moment with you," he said softly, his thumb stilling just as Emma's heart did. A million emotions raced through his gaze, settling on relief. "Saving you," he said even softer, his own words making him smile a little, like it was his greatest achievement. "Everything we've… Emma, you…" The blue in his eyes was so vibrant, hidden behind nothing, a warmth elicited solely by her. "I've never felt anything like us before," he whispered.

Emma felt a soft emotion touch her heart. And with words her walls would have stopped her from saying in the past, she said, "Neither have I."

His gaze lingered on hers, so strongly, some emotion Emma couldn't place filling the blue like rays of sun through the clearest sea. He suddenly looked like he wanted to say something, something that skipped his heart and stilled his chest. Something that would put to words the look in his eyes as he watched her.

But a sliver of hesitation crossed that sea, like a cloud casting a shadow. He swallowed, seeming to alter the words he had wanted to say. "I am honored to have you, Emma Swan," he whispered, his thumb brushing across her cheek.

Emma felt tears touch her eyes, her hand finding his face to kiss him again, shutting her eyes with the overwhelming elatedness of hearing someone truly, purely want her.

"No more than I am to have you," she responded just as honestly.

He smiled, and kissed her again, both of them getting lost in it, in each other, the only kind of lost that has ever made her feel more found.

When they pulled apart, eyes on each other, Emma smiled.

She settled herself on his chest, her head on his shoulder, feeling the exhaustion from the past few days mix with the relief of it being over, and she shut her eyes, breathing out a sigh. His arm curled around her back, pulling her into him as he settled himself against his pillows, and somehow she knew his eyes were still on her.

He was here, his rising chest and beating heart proof he was safe, alive, with her.

They were safe.

They were together.

And though they weren't yet back in Storybrooke, they were home.

-.-.-.-.-.

Storybrooke.

Killian smiled when the little town came into view from where he stood at the helm, again still not believing that he would ever see this place again. He was still quite unable to believe he was even alive. The last time he was here, he was bleeding out on the docks to the sound of Henry's panic and anguish, fully believing that he would never see the boy—or Emma—ever again.

He still couldn't believe that all three of them were safe and unharmed.

But he needed to see for himself that Henry was unharmed before he could let himself finally relax.

And Killian knew Emma felt the same, if not even more so.

She was stood at his side, where she remained the past several hours of the journey. Some time ago they joined her parents and the Lost Boys on deck, Killian assuming his place at the helm, taking the responsibility from David.

Emma's hand was still in his, like it has been this whole time, and where Killian hoped it would stay forever.

By the time they touched down in the water, Killian wrapping his arm around Emma to keep her steady, he could feel how fast her heart was pounding, could see the relief and excitement in her eyes of being back, and of whom he knew was waiting for her.

Henry.

The Lost Boys worked to lower the gangplank, and Killian dropped anchor, securing the ship in place, feeling like securing himself all the same.

Half of Storybrooke was outside, crowded at the docks by the time the gangplank was released on the docks. Hoots, whistles and cheers erupted from the docks where a crowd stood, seemingly having seen the ship's arrival through the sky.

Filled with as much eagerness and desperation as she'd had when she found him in Neverland, Emma pulled Killian with her, nearly running once the gangplank was lowered—

—only for footsteps fueled by just as much desperation ran up the gangplank, as if they'd been waiting years to do so, pounding up the wood panels to reveal—

Henry.

Henry's head turned wildly, seeing David and Mary Margaret first, to whom he gave a quick relieved smile, until he turned his head again, to see Emma.

The boy's eyes widened, and his expression was the epitome of relief.

"Mom!" cried Henry, racing toward her, and Killian felt himself smile, easing a breath of relief, the last of his tension leaving him at seeing the boy all right.

"Henry!" cried Emma, releasing Killian's hand to meet her son halfway.

Henry crashed into his mother, and Emma embraced her boy, sinking down to her knees on the deck, tears falling down her cheeks, mirroring Henry's own. Killian felt his own smile grow, tears touching his eyes at the amount of love radiating from them. He caught David's and Mary Margaret's tearful expressions as they watched, lingering a moment before deboarding the ship with the Lost Boys, like they wanted to offer Henry and Emma their moment alone.

"Mom," choked out Henry from Emma's arms, eyes shut, tears falling beneath his lashes. "You're okay!" he breathed over her shoulder, his voice a half-hiccup, half-sob.

"Yeah, kid," said Emma, voice choked, and she smiled, shutting her eyes as she held him, so tight, like she never ever planned to let him go, and Henry her. Killian watched them both, another breath of relief eased from his own chest, feeling the same sense of relief he had back in New York, when he knew the Crocodile was dead, and Emma was alive and safe.

But Henry's eyes snapped open and he pulled sharply back from Emma. His eyes were wide with panic, gasping out, "Where's—?!"

The sheer fear in the boy's eyes, at the thought he wasn't there, made Killian's breath catch.

But Emma just smiled, another tear falling down her cheek, and she looked over her shoulder, where Killian was standing.

And Henry's desperate gaze followed hers, and he saw Killian.

His eyes widened.

For a moment, the boy looked frozen with awe.

And not a second later, Henry was crashing into his own arms.

For the first time, Killian was ready for it, catching him and pulling him to his chest, feeling Henry's face bury in his chest, his little hands crumpling his jacket in his fingers, clinging onto him just as tight as Emma had when she'd found him in Neverland.

"You're okay," said Henry into his chest, his voice just as fragile and relieved as he'd said them to Emma, and Killian didn't know how he deserved either of them.

"Aye, lad," said Killian, smiling. "I'm all right."

Henry pulled back, and Killian was surprised to see him hastily wipe tears from his face with the back of his hand, his other still not letting go of the front of Killian's coat.

"I was so sc-cared," stammered Henry, more tears falling to replace the ones he wiped away, making Killian's heart twist in his chest for being the cause of his pain, no matter how little choice he had. "I th-thought I'd n-never see you again," he whispered, his voice hiccuping again.

Killian felt both an agony and a warmth at Henry's words, not even able to comprehend how he managed to endear himself so much to the boy, but so grateful he had.

"And I you," admitted Killian softly, a tear falling down his own cheek, clear liquid pain that hurt far more than any crimson that had ever painted his skin. "But as I keep telling your mother," he said softly, smiling, "I'm a survivor."

Henry smiled too, something between a laugh and a hiccup, throwing his arms around Killian's neck again, hugging him almost too tight for Killian to breathe. But for Killian, it was hardly tight enough.

But after a moment, he felt Henry tense, and he pulled back from Killian, only tightening his hold on him when asking fretfully, "Wh-what about… about Pan?"

Emma knelt at Henry's side, wiping a tear from her face. "He's gone," said Emma, firmly and surely, like she was telling herself the fact all the same.

"He is?" asked Henry, so much hope in his eyes.

"Gone," said Killian, wiping away Henry's fresh tears with his thumb. "Pan is defeated and gone," assured Killian again. "You're safe. We all are," he said, those words filling him with more relief than he could say.

Henry let out a breath of his own relief, smiling again, and Emma and Killian mirrored it, like they were Henry's emotional reflection.

But Henry looked around again, a little bit of that tension still in his body, and he asked, "Where's… um…" he trailed off, looking around with unease, like he didn't know if he wanted to see who he was looking for or not.

And Killian, as well as Emma, by the fade of her smile and the tightness of her muscles, knew who he was referring to.

Baelfire.

A flit of pain, of guilt, of regret, of the past snuck into Killian's chest and burned, Bae's death still raw, like a bleeding wound.

Killian turned to Emma, hesitating, seeing pain in her eyes as well. A different pain from his, but just as deep.

Emma bit her lip, like she both didn't know what to say, or she didn't have the courage to say it. Wishing he had two hands, Killian rested his hook gently over her thigh where she was kneeling, watching some of the pain in her eyes recede when he did, his own when her fingers curled around the metal appendage.

"Your…" began Emma, hesitating on the title. "Neal," she amended, "he…" Her voice trailed off again.

But Henry, ever-perceptive, seemed to get where she was going with it, and Killian felt him still, where his hand was still on the lad's shoulder. "He's…?" whispered Henry, trailing off himself, but the unsaid word loud and clear, and enough to make Emma flinch a little at his side.

A tear fell down Emma's face, just as a chill ran down Killian's spine. But Emma smiled, despite another tear falling down her cheek. "He helped us save Killian," she whispered, glancing at him, the gratefulness shining in her eyes like light off diamond. "He…" Emma took a breath. "He took a poisoned arrow that was meant to hit Killian," her voice stuttered with the fear of the moment, just as Killian's heart did in his chest. "He pushed him out of the way," Emma went on, "and he saved his life, by sacrificing himself." Another tear fell. "It's because of Neal that we were able to come home to you," she said softly.

Henry stared at her, tears gathered in his eyes, so much shock in them, and such confusion, such mixed emotions that looked like a sea storm that no ship could survive.

Emma's hand gently touched Henry's cheek, holding his face, brushing away a tear that fell. "Earlier," she said gently, "you said… you liked it better when you thought your father was a firefighting hero." She smiled a little, despite the weather in her own eyes. "He wasn't a firefighter," she said. "But he was a hero." Another tear fell down her cheek. "He loved you Henry." She looked at Killian then, smiling something broken and whole. "He loved all of us."

Warmth filled the cracks in his heart at her words, and Killian felt his own sadness trail hotly down his skin.

Henry was quiet for a long moment, as if trying to sail those rough seas, to navigate his shock, his sadness, and most of all, his confusion seemingly of what to feel for the man he had never known, the father he had only rejected, however rightfully so in the moment.

But he swallowed, then he took a few steps toward the edge of the ship, looking out at the sky. And it was almost as if the floating clouds passing by slowed, as if to listen.

"Thanks, Dad," said Henry softly, as even the waves calmed to hear his words, like it wasn't only the sea and the sky that was listening to them. And turning back to Killian, Henry smiled, finishing, "For saving my dad."

Killian froze.

He heard a small gasp at his side from Emma, as the breath knocked straight from his own lungs.

Dad.

He felt tears sting his eyes.

And it was the first time, it was Killian who pulled Henry into an embrace, once that Henry returned just as tightly. A tear slipped down Killian's cheek.

"Dad," whispered Henry over his shoulder, with a touch of pain and relief, like the pain of never being able to use the word before, and the relief that he finally could.

"Aye, my boy," Killian whispered, confirmed, promised, only holding him tighter. He shut his eyes, his own arms around the boy, his boy, the two words flitting softly through his mind, feeling so similar to Emma's healing magic to his injuries.

Henry chose him.

Chose him.

It was an honor Killian didn't know how he deserved, and would guard with his life.

Killian's acceptance only made Henry's arms curl around him tighter.

Pulling back a little, Henry smiled at Killian's stunned, touched expression. "I have two moms," he said with a giggle. "It only makes sense that I have two dads, too."

Killian laughed, pulling the boy into him again, Killian holding him tight, another tear falling for the sheer love he had for the boy in his arms.

"You saved me," said Henry softly into his chest, only making Killian hold him tighter, a vow to do so, over and over and over.

"I always will," said Killian honestly. The words—the promise—made Henry's lip quiver, tears falling into the collar of his coat like rain on a desert.

And there was a flash to decades ago—to Bae.

"I can change for you, Bae."

Killian's eyes burned a little hotter, for the fresh wound of Bae's death.

He hadn't changed for Baelfire.

But…

"Captain Hook! I need you to help me!"

He had changed for Henry and Emma.

"Take care of them, Killian."

"I always will," repeated Killian in a whisper, to both boys at once.

Another set of familiar arms wrapped around him and Henry as Emma, fresh tears on her cheeks, embraced them both, her head finding Killian's other shoulder.

And Killian's eyes shut, holding them both, never feeling more whole in his life.

-.-.-.-.

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anmylica · 1 year

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Season II: E2: We Are Both

Tagging the Usual Crew:

@kmomof4

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@xarandomdreamx

@whimsicallyenchantedrose

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Regina sat on the edge of her bed staring at the storybook that started it all that she held in her hands. She felt a great deal of resentment for the book,and she wished, not for the first time, that she had burned it long ago. Sitting on the bed beside her was the spell book that had belonged to her mother, and she wished she could burn it too. This storybook was the reason she didn’t have her son.

If you have to use magic to keep your son, you don’t really have him.

She had thought she had succeeded that time, too. She had managed to gibe the servants that worked in the palace that had been her home the slip undetected, and as she rode Rocinante hard for the property line her home possessed, she felt as if she were free for the first time.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last.

Her mother had used a spell to use the trees and their branches to pull her from her mount and hold her captive until her mother could appear to whisk her back home. She hadn’t counted on the barrier spell, and her heart had wrenched at the thought of her mother holding her prisoner and forcing her to go through with a marriage she didn’t want for a crown she didn’t desire and power that she couldn’t have cared less about.

Of course, once she had married King Leopold and once she had discovered the power that came with the crown, she had eventually used it to the fullest of her capability. Power, after all, did mean strength. Love was weakness, gave someone else power over you, and she couldn’t have that. The only way for Regina to have agency was to have power over all others. Her mother had taught her that, and she was ultimately the reason why she sought magic. Magic gave her the strength to advocate for herself and her needs in a way that she had never before had.

(Her desire for the power to have agency over herself was what made her such susceptible prey for Rumplestiltskin’s machinations, though she wouldn’t realize this until much, much later after she had thought she had truly lost her son for good. The darkness loved those who craved power, no matter the kind.)

Running her hands over the cover of the book, she thought back to their altercation that had led to this.

Regina had sensed that Henry was going to try to escape, so to stop him she enacted a barrier spell to force the trees to capture him and hold him until she could retrieve him. It only took her a moment to locate the spell in the book and wave her hand with intent before the spell was enacted. She didn’t hurry up the stairs, relieved that something was in place to both keep him from running away and from accidentally hurting himself. When she reached his room, she saw that her instincts were right and that he had been captured by the tree.

She leaned out the window and said rebukingly, “Don’t fight it honey. You’ll get a splinter.” Henry looked back at her with such resentment it was almost like she was looking at David looking at her. When he stopped squirming, she waved her hand and he was instantly transported back into his room, safe and sound.

Henry huffed and threw himself onto the edge of his bed. “How long am I to be a prisoner for?” he asked. “‘Til I grow up?”

Regina stared pointedly at him. “I rescued you because I love you.” She deliberately avoided answering his question.

Henry hadn’t let her get away with it, though. He asked, “So I’m a prisoner because you love me?”

Regina sighed in agitation that he wouldn’t see her side.

“That’s not fair,” Henry continued.

“You know where I come from?” Regina asked, getting somewhat annoyed, “That was really not fair. Of all the places I’ve seen, this is the fairest of them all.”

Henry didn’t take up the issue of whether the Enchanted Forest or the Land Without Magic were more fair. He pointed out, “You ruined lives. You sent away Mary Margaret and Emma.”

“That was an accident,” Regina interjected hastily. It was the first time she answered one of his accusations directly.

“The way you treated me wasn’t an accident,” Henry pointed out. “You made it so no one believed me. You made me feel like I was crazy. But I was right all along.”

Regina conceded the point but she didn’t know how to make it up to him. She offered the only consolation she knew. “But that’s all going to change now. Henry, you can know all the secrets. You can live in a house with magic.”

Hopefully showing him the benefits of the magic would help him to adjust to his new reality and forgive her. She smiled encouragingly at her son. “Look what I can do,” she whispered, calling up a giant cupcake with rainbow frosting with a wave of her hand. “I can teach you. You can do this and so much more,” she offered, hoping it would be enough to earn his cooperation.

She offered him the opportunity to have his friends over so he could show them the book. Henry shot her suggestion down quickly by pointing out that no one would want to come over because they were all scared of her.

Regina’s temper at the reminder of her past as the Evil Queen flared. “You can make them not be scared,” she countered forcefully. Upon seeing Henry’s doubtful look, she took a breath. “You can make them love you,” she said softly.

“I don’t want that,” Henry refused. He looked at the floor out of frustration. When he turned his eyes back to meet hers, he continued, “I don’t want to be you.”

Regina leaned back, feeling as if he had slapped her in the face. She watched as he shook his head with disgust that she just didn’t get it and got up to leave the room. She stared in disbelief, feeling a knife pierce her heart.

Because he was right.

And she had said the same thing about becoming her mother all those years ago.

Regina got up from Henry’s bed as if in a daze. She wandered into her bedroom, and sitting there on the bed was the storybook. She picked it up in her hands and stared at it, leading her back full circle to the point she had started her contemplation of events that had led to her being here.

Idly, she wondered how long it would take David to finally get here to take Henry back. Ten minutes? Twenty? It couldn’t be thirty at most.

Back then, she had conspired with Rumplestiltskin to get rid of her mother after the wedding. In her attempt to keep from becoming her mother, she had done the exact thing she had sworn not to do. She had become just like Cora. How hadn’t she seen it before? Henry didn’t deserve this; he deserved much better from her. After all, wasn’t adopting him supposed to give her someone to always love her and to whom she could love in return? Didn’t he deserve her love in a way that was supportive of who he was and what he believed?

The future seemed bleak if she allowed this to continue. She would not become her mother and repeat her mother’s mistakes with Henry. She just didn’t know how to go about righting the wrongs she had done to her son.

She got up off her bed and walked back downstairs, anticipating David’s arrival at any moment. She grabbed the spell book that her mother had kept all those years ago on her way down. When she got downstairs, she sat at the formal dining table, holding the book in her hands and ruminating on all the discord and pain magic had brought her over the years.

The door burst open with a loud bang as David jumped into her foyer. She turned, seeing him brandishing his sword.

“I want to see him,” David demanded, holding the sword’s point to her face.

“Henry come down,” she called. To David, she said, “You won’t be using your sword.”

“Whatever you conjure, I can fight,” he responded.

She raised her hand up and moved the sword tip down to point towards the floor. “I mean,” she clarified, “you won’t need your sword.”

Upon seeing Henry coming down the stairs, looking between her and David in curiosity, she moved to meet her son halfway. She stared into his face, trying to work up the courage to say what she needed.

“Henry, you’re gonna go home with David,” she finally said. She watched as Henry turned his brown gaze onto David’s in astonishment to make sure he heard it too. Henry looked back at her slowly.

“Really”” he questioned, not believing that she was allowing him to go with his grandfather after her display at town hall.

“Really,” she confirmed. “I shouldn’t have brought you here,” she continued. “I was…”. She broke off, not quite knowing how to explain it to him in a way that he could understand. She tilted her head to the right and leaned closer in, confiding, “I don’t know how to love very well.” She had never really had anyone show her how.

“I wasn’t capable of it for a very long time. But I know, I remember, that if you hold onto someone too hard, it doesn’t make them love you. I’m sorry I lied to you. That I made you feel like I didn’t know who you are. But I want you to be here because you want to be here. Not because I forced you and not because of magic.”

Regina paused, making sure Henry understood what she was saying. She waited until he nodded, before confiding in him the very last deepest desire she possessed. “I want to redeem myself.” She felt tears spring to her eyes. She felt ashamed of how she had acted towards him, and she hoped that this would be enough to finally mend the riff in their relationship.

“Now go get your things,” she told him, and he turned to get what he needed.

“Then prove it,” David told her, and she turned to him.

“How?” She asked, curious as to what advice he could offer her.

“Answer one question,” David responded. “Does it exist?”

“What?”

“The Enchanted Forest. Our land. Does it still exist?”

She walked down the stairs and stopped just in front of him before answering. “Yes. But I have no idea how to get back there.”

She watched as the realization of this fact appeared in David’s eyes.

“I can see I just launched you on a heroic quest,” she observed sardonically. “Just also make sure you take care of my son.”

David nodded. “That I can do.”

After closing the door once the two of them had left to go back to the loft Mary Margaret had lived in, Regina picked up the spell book and moved to throw it into the fire once and for all, but she hesitated. Magic had always brought her agency, so couldn’t it help her now? She changed her mind and put the book back into a safe location just in case. She opened a bottle of wine instead and poured herself a glass, pondering just exactly how she was going to prove to Henry that she really did love him. She wondered how exactly she could redeem herself after all the turmoil and pain she had caused. How did an Evil Queen set out to become a hero worthy of her son when she had no one she loved helping to show her the way?

#once upon a time #ouat ff #ouat fanfiction #2x02 oneshot #Anmylica writes #Season II #regina mills #introspection #henry mills

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