#wish realm killian
Text
Alice: Here you are. A nice, warm cup of coffee
Rogers: It's cold
Alice: A nice cup of coffee
Rogers: It's raining outside
Alice: A cup of coffee
Rogers: I'm not even sure this is coffee
Alice: ...cup
#once upon a time#knightrook#alice jones#wish hook#detective rogers#ouat tilly#ouat incorrect quotes#incorrect ouat quotes#ouat season 7#incorrect quotes#once upon a time incorrect#once upon a time incorrect quotes#incorrect once upon a time#alice from wonderland and other places#mad archer#killian jones#wish realm#wish killian jones#wish!hook
66 notes
·
View notes
Photo
It’s Colin O'Donoghue’s birthday today, so here’s some Killian Jones/Captain Hook fanart! ✨🎂
#ouat#once upon a time#fanart#ouat fanart#killian jones#captain hook#disney#angelsomaart#If Archie wasn't my fave Hook would be#I especially like season 7 Hook#I like both Hooks#both is good#this art is actually wish realm Hook tho
266 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bandit: I have kidnapped your daughter Captain Hook! And if you don't pay me the ransom by sunset she'll-
Killian: Wait which Hook's daughter did you kidnap?
Bandit: Doesn't matter! I want-
Killian: Rogers have you seen Alice?
Rogers: Yeah I just saw her heading to Granny's. Have you seen Hope?
Killian: Aye I just put her in her crib a little bit ago...
Rogers:
Killian:
Rogers & Killian: Who's daughter do you have???
#like I said I'm obsessed with the idea of them chilling together#and the fact that they're both in law enforcement just makes it so much better#also plot twist its actually Robyn and she escaped hours ago#incorrect quotes#incorrect ouat quotes#killian jones#captain hook#detective rogers#wish realm hook#nook#alice jones#hope swan jones#once upon a time#ouat
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dare I say forever...
Part 3 of Lover of the Light (AKA Wish Baby)
Summary:
He’d turned the tavern upside down trying to find her, had scoured the streets for any sign of her golden hair, of the eyes he’d only just been gazing into. But she was nowhere, and the panic started to settle. No. No, it has to have worked. That was why they found the bloody star in the first place - light magic, no tricks, a wish that would send them both home. But she’s not with him.
The reunion of WishEmma and SilverWishHook after the events of Lover of the Light and Ghosts that we Knew. Also affectionately (and agressively) nicknamed Wish Baby
Rated E
Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr: 1 2
HAPPY SUPER BELATED BIRTHDAY @the-darkdragonfly 🎁🎉🎂🎈
This fic is suuuuuuper late but that’s because (as you know) it turned into a 34k word monster that had to be turned into two parts/chapters. You’re the loveliest person ever and I hope you like this conclusion you’ve been demanding for two years! 😘
Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you @elizabeethan for betaing this fic that is way longer than it was supposed to be when you agreed to read it! 🙏🙏
And thank you @kmomof4 for being a second set of eyes when I decided to write this story out of order! 💕
********
Part Three
“You’re too bloody old for this,” Killian grunts, shoving at a handful of bloody roses - because of course it had to be roses - and their bloody thorns, reaching for another gap in the criss-crossing wood that creaks under his weight. He’s too old to be climbing trellises in the middle of night to sneak into a lass’s bedroom - especially a bedroom in a bloody castle.
He heaves himself up another step, hook getting caught in the tangles and he struggles to free it without falling on his arse. His arms hurt. His legs hurt. His back. His breathing is so loud that he worries they’ll hear him across the garden where two guards are supposed to be stopping people like him from breaking in and whisking away princesses. He should tell Emma to fire them.
A thorn catches his palm and he curses, sweat beading on his temples as he covets the strength he had as a younger man, the energy. He needs it now. He needs to find her. One moment he’d been holding her hand in that tavern, the light blinding as he tried to keep his eyes on her face for as long as possible, and the next, she was gone. The Emma who’d come here had disappeared, but this Emma, his Emma, he still doesn’t know where she is.
He’d turned the tavern upside down trying to find her, had scoured the streets for any sign of her golden hair, of the eyes he’d only just been gazing into. But she was nowhere, and the panic started to settle.
No. No, it has to have worked. That was why they found the bloody star in the first place - light magic, no tricks, a wish that would send them both home. And then a new panic had set in. Home. If she’d been sent home, back to the castle where the other Emma had just used magic in front of her mother…
And so here he is, climbing the trellis beneath her window like a suitor in a storybook, only older, and wearier, and sweatier. But he embraces the exhaustion, the burn of his limbs, because it keeps the worst of his fears at bay. What if she’s just gone? What if she was never sent to another land? What if he can’t bring her back. What if she’s lost to him forever?
He doesn’t want to think of what that would mean, of what it might do to him to have her ripped away like this. He fears who he might become without her, who he was when he met her, the emptiness that had consumed him, that she had filled. She’d changed him.
He reaches the window, grunting embarrassingly - though there’s no one around to hear it - as heaves himself over the edge of her balcony. It’s dark, the blinds are closed and he can’t hear anything inside. He calls her name, tries the door when she doesn’t answer. It’s locked. Why the hell is her bloody balcony door locked, he groans. Probably to keep people from climbing up the trellis into her room.
Slipping his hook into the keyhole he curses when it takes him longer than he’d like to pick the lock. He’s out of practice at breaking and entering. When it finally unlatches the door creaks open under his hand and he winces, everything feeling too loud.
“Swan? Emma, love, are you there?” He tries to ignore the stirring dread when he receives no answer, searching in the dark. He’s never been here before, their meetings always in the tavern or on his ship. The room smells like her, her scent clinging to the walls, haunting the space as it does his cabin every time she has to leave. He calls her name again, checking the bed, searching the sitting room attached. Her chambers are bigger than his whole bloody ship.
She has to be somewhere. He’ll search the whole bloody castle if he has to. Unfortunately his fear makes him impulsive; his desperation makes short-sighted; and his lack of practice makes an idiot. Because when he opens the door to the hall, prepared to go storming off looking for her, he forgets to listen, forgets to be silent, or armed, and he comes face to face with two guards - or face to back.
Bollocks. He tries to back away slowly, but it’s too late, the guards turning, their swords drawn as swiftly as his own. So much for sneaking about the palace unnoticed - he’ll have to find her quickly. He disarms the first two easily - not killing them, he knows Emma is close to some of the guards and he doesn’t think she’d appreciate him doing away with her household staff - but one of them shouts and more come running. Five, who he manages to take down, then ten, harder this time, a few still standing when more come, and soon it seems the whole bloody army is in her bedroom.
“Get your bloody hands off of me,” he spits as four hold him down, force him to his knees, disarmed, bloody and bruised. A new guard walks in, older than the rest, a commander more than a fighter now he imagines.
“We found him breaking in, Lord Humbert. It looks like he came up through the balcony.”
“Tell whoever’s stationed outside to report to my quarters,” the man says in an accent close to Killian’s own. “The bloody idiots can explain how they let someone get into the princess's room.” Killian likes this one, the name familiar. He just can’t place it.
“Care to tell me what you’re doing here?” Humbert asks.
“I would,” Killian snarks. “But I’m in a bit of a rush, actually. I have people expecting me. You know how it is.”
The guard actually looks half amused, glancing at his clothes and at his hook. “Aye, well, I don’t think you’ll be seeing anyone anytime soon. The punishment for attempted kidnapping is death, Captain.”
Killian gives him his most charming, sarcastic smile. “Well it’s always nice to be recognized.”
“Your title won’t do you much good when you’re facing the gallows, I’m afraid. Take him away.”
“Wait!” he says through gritted teeth before the guard can turn away. “I wasn’t trying to kidnap her, I was trying to bloody warn her.”
He stops, frowns. “About what?” Killian sets his jaw. He can’t tell this man anything without revealing Emma’s magic, possibly putting her in even more danger. Humbert waves his hand and he’s being dragged to his feet as the man walks away, a wolf on the back of his armor. “You’re Graham - the one who saved her mother.”
Graham stops, turns back, raising a hand again and the soldiers holding him relax their grip only slightly. “How do you know that?”
“Emma told me. She also told me that you taught her to track when she was little. Her governess got angry because she would come back covered in mud and leaves.”
“Emma told you?” Graham asks, frowning deeply, stepping closer.
“Aye, she cares for you - said you were like a second father to her. Which is why I’m sorry about this.” The man hardly has a moment to register his words before Killian pulls a sword from one of the guards’ belts, hitting Humbert in the face with the hilt and knocking him out cold. The other guards are caught off guard, Killian making quick work of them. “Sorry,” he says to them before taking off down the hall - Emma’s made him soft-hearted. “True love and all.”
***
Emma nearly falls into the water. One moment she’d been sitting with Killian in the room that belonged to another version of her, and the next she was stumbling across the deck of a ship. She blinks, looking around at where she is, recognizing the Jolly, the open sea around her. She touches the fabric of her clothes, the riding pants and vest. Hers. She’s back. They must have done it - her Killian and his Emma. Running below deck, she throws open the door to his cabin.
“Killian?” she calls. But there’s no answer. The ship is silent, empty, eerily so. She searches the bosun’s room he’d spent so many nights in, the galley, the hold, the deck. He’s not here. Why isn’t he here? She makes her way to the railing, looking out at the docks. This isn’t the port near Misthaven. “Where are you?”
She lets her magic flow through her, humming under her skin, extending beyond her but not far, holding tight to it. Killian, where are you? Emma lets it pull her to the edge of the ship, looking out into the dark water below, her reflection visible in the bright moonlight, the waves rippling through it before the image shifts and she nearly gasps.
Mirror magic. She hadn’t meant to use it but she can see him coming through beneath her reflection, as though it were floating to the surface. The tavern. Misthaven. She doesn’t know what his ship is doing here, why he’s not on it, but she’s going to find him. Emma raises the main sail and makes her way back to the helm, looking up at the stars, the constellations he taught her. She points the ship east, back to him. She’ll find him. She’ll find him and she’ll tell him everything.
He hadn’t been at the tavern when she arrived a little over an hour later. The barkeep had seemed confused when she’d asked if he’d seen Killian. “He was ‘ere earlier - with you. Ran outta ‘ere like a bat outta hell. Assumed you wen’ with ‘im.”
“Do you know where he went?”
The man shook his head. “Maybe ‘e’s lookin’ for you too.”
“Damn.” If he did, then he’s at the palace, and she needs to find him before anyone else does. She takes the barman’s horse back to the castle, hopping off and sneaking around back to the servants quarters to avoid being seen. She needs to sneak in, find Killian, and sneak him out before anyone even knows she’s there.
The door to the kitchen is unlatched, the cook notorious for leaving it ajar, livestock often making their way into the pantry searching for snacks. She’s relieved to find it empty, creeping through the room to the staircase that leads to the great hall. If she has to search floor by floor, she will.
She decides it’s her best bet, starting up the winding staircase. She can hear the sounds of guards above her, worried they’ve already found him, and she picks up her pace, taking the steps two at a time. She barely hears the footsteps, barely hears the sharp sound of metal being unsheathed before she nearly crashes into him.
Someone catches her just in time to avoid her plummet back down a hundred or more steps, and when she looks up to see her savior, she can’t believe it. “Emma?”
“Killian!” she throws herself in his arms, holding him tightly and he freezes. But then she’s pressing her lips to his and his arms wrap around her, drawing her closer, letting her push him back against the wall as she kisses him like she thought she’d never see him again. He’s here. He’s safe.
“Is it really you?” he asks, pulling away enough to brush his thumb over her cheek. Emma nods furiously, beaming and crying all at once. “Yeah, it’s really me.”
“Where did you go? Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. It’s a long story, but, Killian, we have to go. If they find you here -”
He nods, solemnly. “I know. Come on.”
She takes his hand, and he just looks at her, that air of disbelief still in his eyes. Then he looks at her hand and she knows he’s thinking the same as her. She thought she’d lost him, and she doesn’t resist as he pulls her back to him, kissing her one more time, just because it won’t be the last.
A clamour comes from upstairs, footprints and armor and blades and Killian breaks away, drawing his own sword. “This way!” she hisses, leading him down, but she freezes, footsteps coming from below as well and she turns wide, frantic eyes on him.
“It’ll be alright, love.” She doesn’t know if she believes him this time…
“Unhand her!” a voice shouts from above them.
They both whirl around, each with a protective arm thrown out across other, leaving them standing side by side. “Stand down,” Emma orders and Killian takes another step forwards, sword in hand as the guard looks at her, hesitant, uncertain and she orders him to stand down again. Why aren’t they listening?
“Swan,” he whispers, hook pressing into her hip, trying to hide her behind him. “They know about your magic.”
She only lets the panic take over for a moment, simmering low in her stomach, heart hammering, before she channels it. Light begins to simmer in her palms. “Then they have all the more reason to listen.”
“Emma!” Her magic vanishes, the familiar voice sending a pang through her. They both turn, but it takes her a moment to raise her eyes to his, to see how he’ll look at her now, if there will be fear there, or worse, hatred. Killian raises his sword at the guards there, led by an older man with a scar on his chin.
“Dad.”
“Emma, we were so worried,” he says. Killian’s sword lowers slightly as her father steps forward and his eyes settle on the pirate holding her back, on his weapon. “Step away from my daughter.” He’d kill him. She knows he would. She can see it in his eyes, magic or no, he’s her father and he would destroy anyone who tried to hurt her.
“Dad-” Killian drops his sword but doesn’t leave her side.
“Seize him!”
“Dad, wait!” He doesn’t listen, guards grabbing Killian, dragging him off of her, and she reaches for him as her father pulls her to his side. “Dad, wait, no!” She’s crying now, shouting at him as she grabs for Killian’s hook.
He gives her a small smile that she knows he doesn’t feel, knows is just for her. “It’s alright, love.” He brings her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it before he’s dragged off. “I’ll find you,” he calls. “I promise. I’ll always find you.”
Emma turns to her father, grabbing at his tunic. He’s staring after Killian, an expression she can’t read on his face, but not the abject hatred and murderous intent that had been there a moment ago.
“Dad, please, don’t hurt him.” He finally looks at her, brow pinched in confusion, and she says the words she’d been so afraid to confess to anyone but Killian. “I love him. Please. Please, don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you want.” His eyes go wide, mouth falling open and she lets her head fall against his chest, somewhere that had always felt so safe. His hand comes to the back of her head, a reflex born of years of soothing her tears and her words are muffled against his shirt through her tears. “I can’t lose him. I love him. Please.”
***
The cell door beside his opens, another prisoner tossed in with a grunt and a few choice curses at the guards. The women in this kingdom certainly do have a way with words. “And here I thought I had the place to myself,” he says because even now, for all his years and all the time he’s had to learn better, he still hasn’t.
“You won’t have any place for much longer,” the guard says to him. Ah yes, those pesky gallows they keep mentioning.
“Ou, ominous,” the prisoner next to him says, laughing as the guard walks away. She’s a woman, he can’t see her, a thick stone wall separating their cells, but her voice is light despite its bite and her hands hang out the bars she leans against, distinctly feminine. “What did you do to piss them off?”
“Trespassing.” It’s not completely untrue. He did trespass in the castle. And he’d trespassed where he had no right being the moment he thought he could be a part of Emma’s world.
“Hanging for trespassing?” she demands. “Man, this kingdom is rough.”
“It was a bit more complicated than that.”
“How so?”
“Look, I’m not really in a chatty mood, what with my imminent death and all.”
“Ah, I get it. First time?”
He scoffs. “Not hardly.”
“Always nice to meet a kindred spirit.” Killian can hear her smile and he finds one tugging at the corner of his lip. He likes this woman. She reminds him of Emma in a way, the snark and the dark humour. “So, you’re not in a talking mood,” the prisoner says when he doesn’t answer. “Are you in an eating mood?” She sticks her hand out, offering a roll of bread. “It’s not much of a last meal but I was able to snag it off the guard's plate when he was tossing me on my ass.”
Killian takes it, not having eaten since this morning, hand slipping out of the bars to reach for it. “Thank you.”
She gasps when his hook flashes against the iron, but not in fear. “You’re the pirate who tried to kidnap the princess.” She sounds almost impressed.
“I wasn’t trying to kidnap her.”
The prisoner laughs. “Sure, and I wasn’t trying to rob that carriage.”
“I wasn’t -” he sighs. It’s pointless. There’s no reason to argue.
“Okay, I’m sorry. You weren’t trying to kidnap her. So what were you doing?”
“I was trying to find her.”
“... to kidnap her?”
“To warn her.”
“... That you were going to kidnap her?”
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I am, thank you.” He doesn’t answer. “So are you going to tell me what you were trying to warn her about?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because there’s nobody else to talk to and I might be the last person you talk to. You know, deathbed confessions and all that.”
He scoffs. “I’ve been in more dire straits than this and found a way out.” He begins doing just that, searching for a weakness in his cell, anything that could help him get free - or anything he could use to overpower the guard.
“And go where? This palace is a fortress.”
“To her,” he says to himself, but she hears them.
“Who? The princess?” He doesn’t answer. “Oh, do you want to tell me about it?”
“About what?”
“Come on now. You don’t seem like a stupid person, but you’re stupid enough to break into a castle to try and talk to her. And to break out of the dungeon and go right back to the same castle to find her. I mean, it’s not difficult to figure out. Life-in-danger stupid is the kind of stupid that’s only brought on by one thing.”
“Love,” he says quietly.
“Yeah. So, do you want to talk about it?”
He sighs. “What would be the point? I’m going to lose her no matter what now.” Either her parents will kill him, or they’ll find a way to keep her away from him forever.
“Because… Say you do die tomorrow; say this is your last night. If you can’t be with her, don’t you at least want someone to know your story? Don’t you want someone to be able to tell her that you spent your last hours thinking about her? I would.” A pang pulls at his chest. He hasn’t feared death in a long time, he’d not had anything to lose, to leave behind. “But hey,” she says, “maybe I’m just a romantic.”
“I… I promised her it would be alright. I knew it was a risk from the beginning.”
“So why did you do it?”
A small smile tugs at his lips. “You’d understand if you met her. I knew it was a risk, but I also knew that I had no chance, the moment I met her…”
***
Her father takes her down to the kitchen, dismissing the rest of his guards as he leads her to the table. He sets to making a cup of hot chocolate - ‘The best remedy for when my girls are upset,’ he used to say - and puts it down in front of her. She’s still crying and he’s looking at her like he doesn’t know what to do. It’s the first time in her life he hasn’t had an answer.
“Sweetheart, talk to me. What’s going on?
“Are you going to execute him?” The thought is so horrible, the question so harsh that her fingers shake around the mug.
“I… no. No, we won’t do anything until we know what’s going on. But you have to tell me.” Emma takes a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. “You… You said you love him.” She can tell the sentence is hard for him, both to say out loud and to wrap his head around. She nods.
“Isn’t he a little old for you?”
“Dad.”
It’s his turn to take a deep breath. “But… When…How long has this been going on?”
“A year.”
“A year?” Emma nods and he runs a hand over his face, processing - poorly. Her father clears his throat, stands and digs out a bottle of liquor. “We might need something stronger than cocoa for this conversation.” He pours two generous servings and drinks deeply from his. “Maybe you should start at the beginning.”
She takes the second and nods. “He saved my life.”
***
Killian told her the story of how they met; how she’d fought a pirate twice her size and twice her age, how brave and strong she’d been as she held her own until the very end. He told her how he saved her and brought her back to his ship, how she’d stayed the night and then never left. He told her of the months they spent on the Jolly Roger, how scared she’d been of her own magic, how beautiful, and awe-inspiring it had been to watch her come into her power.
He told her how she’d been the one to kiss him first, and he told her of the fear and doubt that had held him back. He told her how Emma fought him, every terrible excuse he could think of, and then asked him to let her try and love him. And he told her how she had. He told her how he fell in love with her, how every moment he spent with her made him love her more.
He told her how they knew she eventually had to go home, and how it destroyed both of them to leave the world they’d created behind. He told her how they would meet every fortnight in a tavern near the kingdom, and how they sailed away whenever they could.
He told her about their last meeting, their last night where she’d asked him to run away with her, to take her somewhere she’d never be found, to love her and be with her and forget the rest of the world. He told her how they both knew that was something they could never have.
“The next time I saw her, she wasn’t her. She was another Emma, one from a world where she and another version of me had somehow defied the odds. They’re happy, together, in love.”
“Another her?”
“It’s a long story,” he sighs. “There were wishes and stars involved.”
“Would you run away with her? If she asked you again?”
He thinks for a long moment. He hadn’t wanted to make her leave her family, her home, her birthright. But ever since he thought he lost her, now that he fears he’s lost her again… “Aye. If it was truly what she wanted, I’d sail away with her in a heartbeat.”
“What if she asked you to stay?”
“I don’t see how that would ever happen.” Where he is now attests to that.
“But if she did ask, would you?”
He feels a slight tug at his heart. It’s something that’s bothered him since that first time Emma asked him to run away with her, the first time he’d kissed her on the deck of his ship - she’s never asked him to stay. Perhaps it makes sense, she fits better into his world than he does into hers. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t give up everything for her - the Jolly, his crew, his life at sea…
“I’d be with her anywhere she wished rather than spend another day not by her side.”
The woman behind the wall is quiet, and he lets the moment hang in the space around him. It’s strange, to have confessed so much to a stranger, to feel such a weight lifted from his chest for it. But he feels relieved, as she’d suggested, that someone besides the two of them will know their story, that his love for her was real, and true, and that he loved her until his last moment.
“It’s morning, you know,” she says softly and he looks up, no light in the dungeons apart from the burning candles. But his body can feel the change in time, trained the way it has been for centuries to wake on his ship, to keep track of days and years in Neverland, and he realizes he spoke all night. “And listen.” He does, but there are no sounds apart from the dripping of water somewhere in the damp caves. “No drums.” She’s right. There are no drums announcing his execution, no guards come to take him to the gallows. “It looks like you might get that second chance after all.”
He hears the clattering chime of keys, a lock being turned and then the door beside him swings open. The prisoner steps out, coming to stand before his cell. She’s older than he expected, long silver hair with only a few remnants of black, ivory skin still lovely despite the passing of time, and eyes the colour of sea glass.
The woman rests a hand on one of the bars, looking at him with an intensity that holds him in place, keeping him from reaching for the keys she holds so near. “If everything you said is true, Killian-” Those eyes bore into him, a kindness behind the strength… Emma’s eyes. “Then I’m glad my daughter found you.”
***
David and Snow sit in their chambers, at the small table in the sitting room they’ve always used for these kinds of conversations, the difficult ones that called for debate and decisions. The Arguing Table, the king had once dubbed it. But now neither speaks, both lost deep in thought at the revelations that have been brought this morning. Their daughter has magic, something she’d been so afraid of them learning that she ran away, terrified of what they’d do to her.
They failed her. Their own fear and trauma passed on to the person they love most in the world. ‘Emma is the product of true love,’ Blue had told Snow when she’d gone running to her after Emma - or, not Emma - had used magic and then disappeared two days ago. ‘That’s the most powerful magic of all, and it creates a light strong enough to vanquish any darkness.’
They’d been scared, of course they had, the sudden power unexpected and bringing back so many horrible memories. But the fact that she believed they would turn against her, fear her and not the unpredictability of magic, it breaks both their hearts. They swore that if they found her - ‘When we find her,’ Snow had insisted - they would make it right.
And she’s in love. Their beautiful, wonderful, perfect daughter is in love - and she kept it from them. Snow had feared Emma would never open herself up to love again, not after that horrible man had come and toyed with her heart when she was so young and left her without a reason, so heartbroken that David had nearly hunted him down and killed him himself. Snow had nearly let him.
Their stories match up; after hearing what Emma told David, Snow believes that everything Killian told her in the dungeon was true, right down to her wanting to run away with him. She loves him so much that she would give up her home, her kingdom, them for him. And it stings, of course it does. But she’s their daughter, Snow knew she wouldn’t need them as much one day, that she’d find her own happy ending apart from theirs. Her husband is still not as convinced, staring at the fire with his hand at his chin, oscillating between disbelief and indignation.
“I still want to kill him.”
“David!”
“I’m not saying that I will. I just don’t like the idea of some pirate twice her age coming here and seducing our daughter away.”
“He’s not twice her age,” Snow says, as patiently as she can despite her exasperated sigh. “And she’s a grown woman, how old they are doesn’t matter. Besides, I think from what they told us, it was the other way around as far as who seduced wh-”
“Ah!” he grimaces, holding up a hand. “I don’t want to hear that.”
“Tough.” He looks up at her with those sad, hurt, puppy dog eyes he uses so well without ever meaning to. “He didn’t steal her away, Charming. He’s the reason she came home to us at all.”
Her husband, Prince Charming, knight and King of Misthaven, pouts, and slouches back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “So what, I’m just supposed to accept a pirate as a son-in-law?”
“If they decide that’s what they want to do, then yes. But this isn’t our parents’ generation, they don’t have to get married.”
“Oh, he’ll marry her,” David says and this time it’s a threat.
“Whatever they decide, I think we have to accept that he’s the one she’s chosen. And if we want to keep our daughter in our life, then he’s part of the deal.”
“But he’s a thief!”
“So was I.”
“He’s not of royal blood!”
“Neither are you.” He looks almost offended and Snow reaches for his hand across the table. “You didn’t hear the way he spoke about her, Charming… I think it might be true love.”
He sighs, shoulders sagging, turning his hand to hold hers. “I know.”
“You know what that would do to her if we tried to separate them - what she would do. We’ll lose her, David. I don’t want to lose my daughter.” He nods, squeezing her fingers affectionately and she knows he’s on her side. He always is - it just takes him a while to realize it sometimes.
“I suppose I could knight him,” David says, lost in thought again, clearly still not over the idea of having a pirate for a son-in-law.
Snow lifts their entwined hands, pressing a kiss to his thumb. “Whatever makes you feel better, darling.”
***
Emma hasn’t slept, up all night looking for Killian, then finding him, then losing him again and then sitting up with her father, telling him the story of how she met and fell in love with a man he doesn’t approve of. She knows he doesn’t approve. But he would probably never approve of anyone she chose to be with, overprotective since the moment the Evil Queen had threatened her, before Emma was even born. She fears what he would do to Killian if he knew about the baby.
Her hand settles over her stomach. He’d promised he wouldn’t harm him, at least not until they decided what to do about the situation, and he made her promise not to go looking for Killian. It was a promise she’d almost broken seven times in the few hours she’d paced her room before sunrise. What does he mean ‘when they decide what to do about the situation’? Would they send him away? Keep him locked in the dungeon for the rest of his life?
The relief she feels over her parents not fearing her magic pales in comparison to the anxiety that consumes her at the thought of being separated from Killian. She knows if they send him away, she’ll find him, and if they keep him in the dungeon, she’d get him out, or he’d get himself out and take her away. And her father knows it too. Which means the only true way to keep him from her would be - no. He promised.
It’s just after dawn when she’s summoned to the throne room, her footsteps echoing across the empty hall, no one but the King and Queen sat in their thrones, waiting for her. Her mother stands, crossing the room to take Emma’s face in her hands, kissing her cheek and then hugging her tight.
“I’m so sorry,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry you were so afraid to tell us.” Her voice is choked with tears she always lets herself shed, mighty queen or not. Snow releases her, looking at her again, eyes watery as she strokes her cheeks. “We love you, Emma. You’re our daughter. And we want you to be happy, no matter what that looks like.” Her eyes dart up to her mothers, hope blooming in her chest where her heart beats rapidly. “I know you told your father, but I want to hear it from you. Is he really what you want?”
“Yes,” she says without any hesitation. “More than anything, Mom… I love him,” she pleads and the queen’s tears begin to fall as a smile spreads across her face. She looks back at her husband, nodding.
“Bring him in.” Emma’s heart jumps into her throat at David’s words, turning to the large doors that are being pushed open by two guards. Another two file in, followed by yet another two who lead their prisoner inside, each holding one of his chained arms.
“Killian!” His head snaps to her, looking stunned to find her there, the wind knocked out of him as she sprints across the hall to throw herself at him. He can’t hold her, not with his hands cuffed in front of him, but he tucks his chin into the crook of her neck, speaking into her hair.
“Are you alright?”
She nods, not ready to let him go. “Are you?” He nods as well, but grunts when she squeezes him tighter. ‘Six guards seems a little excessive,’ she hears her father’s voice behind her, but she’s too busy pulling back to look at him, the cuts and bruises she’d not seen in the dark last night. ‘It was… necessary, Sire.’
Killian smirks. “Don’t worry, love, I’ve lived through worse. I just don’t bounce back as quickly anymore as I did when I used to sneak into young lass’ bedrooms.” Emma shakes her head at him and lifts a hand to his brow, tracing the curve of his temple and cheek and lets her magic seek out his pain, settling on his chest where she lets it flow out of her and into him, healing them all. He breathes a little sigh of relief. “Thank you.” She can feel the way the guards tense at her display of power, inching back slightly.
“Release him,” Snow orders. “And leave us.” The guards do as they’re told, freeing his wrists and leaving the throne room, shutting the door behind them. Killian’s arms come around her immediately, holding her close until her father speaks again.
“Come forward, pirate,” he orders and Killian looks up over her shoulder at the king, then at her.
“It’s okay,” she promises, because for the first time since she returned from that other reality, she has hope it will be. Emma slips her fingers between his, walking by his side to the thrones, her father doing his best to loom over him, to intimidate him, despite the way his hand is grasped around his wife’s.
“My daughter says she’s in love with you.” Killian turns to smile at her, barely a movement but she catches it before he’s looking seriously at the king again.
“Aye. And I love her.”
“And I’m sure you realize why this might pose a problem for us, both as rulers and as her parents.”
He smirks. “Ah, yes, the pirate thing.” Emma nudges him with her elbow and he squeezes her hand. So not the time for snark. Her mother seems amused though, pressing her lips together in a telling way.
“Yes, that. Obviously we can’t have a pirate courting the heir to the throne. And as she’s so determined to be with you, and we don’t wish to lose our daughter to a life at sea, it comes down to one question. Are you willing to remain in Misthaven and give up your life for her?”
Killian speaks at the same time as she does, refusing to let them force this choice on him. “Wait -”
“- Aye.”
No, no this isn’t what she wants. She doesn’t want him to have to give up the life he loves for her, the only one he’s ever known, his home, the sea… His thumb brushes over the back of her hand when David presses him.
“You’d give up your title? Your reputation? Your ship?”
She knows her dad’s just testing him now and she opens her mouth to call him out on it - there’s no reason he can’t have a ship even if he lives here. But Killian turns to her, eyes so full of emotion it stops the words dead. “I already have.”
Her heart is pounding in her chest, in her throat as she stares at him in disbelief. What does he mean he already has? She doesn’t get a chance to ask, David slapping a hand down on the arm of his throne.
“Then it’s settled. You’ll be a knight.”
“Well, nothing’s been made official, yet. We can figure out what works best -” Snow starts but he continues.
“And you’ll get married.”
“Only if you want to. And only when you want to.”
“We’ll have to do something to make sure the story is told to the kingdom the way we want it to. Rumours could -”
“David.” He goes silent finally. “We have plenty of time for all of that. For now, let’s just give them a moment, alright?”
“I still think he’s too old for her.”
Killian is still looking at her, nothing but love and hope in his eyes and she doesn’t know what to say, what to ask. What does he mean he gave it up? She thinks of the Jolly, empty and abandoned in that port not far away. Killian is never far from his ship, never leaves her unguarded. He brings their entwined hands to his lips, kissing the back of hers and she hardly notices her parents leaving the room, the hall empty now, just the two of them and her voice echoes despite how softly she speaks.
“Killian… Did you give up your ship for me?”
He doesn’t break her gaze. “Aye.”
Her heart is racing again. “When? How? Why?” None of the questions seem big enough to capture the scope of what he’s telling her, what she can’t wrap her mind around.
“When you were ripped away from me and sent to that other bloody realm. It’s how we got you back. I traded the Jolly for a wishing star.”
Emma frowns. “Traded? To who?”
She can see the apprehension that creeps over him, but he doesn’t falter. “Blackbeard.”
“What? Why would you do something like that? She’s your home.”
“Don’t you know, Emma?” She only stares, waiting, aching with guilt at what he gave up for her, what else he’s going to give up. “My home isn’t the Jolly Roger. It’s you. She’s nothing but planks of wood and a sail. That ship was my home because the only life I wanted to live was aboard her. Now that life is here, by your side - if you’ll have me.”
She’s crying now, tears slipping silently down her cheek. “I didn’t think that you’d want to stay, not when it meant giving up a life of adventure for court politics and dances.” It was why she hadn’t told him about the baby either. She didn’t want to tie him to her, to land out of obligation.
He smiles softly at her and she can see the tinge of hurt in it. “You never asked.”
“I didn’t want you to have to give up anything for me.”
His smile is sweeter now and he reaches to brush away her tears. “You were willing to give up an entire kingdom, a crown, and your family for me. Is it so unreasonable to believe that I would do the same for you?” He leans in to kiss her but she stops him before their lips can touch, a hand on his chest.
“Wait. I want to say something before you kiss me and I forget everything I’m thinking.” He gives her an amused smirk but nods. “When I was in the other reality, I met another version of you.”
“Aye. I had a similar experience.”
“He told me something.” She remembers the younger Killian’s words, ones she’d been so afraid to believe. But he’s given up so much for her and she needs him to know that it’s not just him, that he’s not the only one who found his home. “He told me that I’m your happy ending. But before you say anything,” she cuts off the words that had started to come out of his mouth and he shuts it. “I want you to know… that you’re mine.”
His eyes water at her confession, smile wobbly as he beams at her. “Now can I kiss you?”
“Yeah,” she laughs and he lunges forward, smile capturing hers in a way that she knows he’s here to stay. She never should have doubted it at all.
***
“I could get used to this, you know,” he tells her as they make their way up to her room, much to her father’s irritation - ‘We’ll get you set up in some quarters-’ ‘David.’ - and his amusement.
They’d spent the day patiently sitting through meals and plans and agreements with her parents, Killian constantly thrown off guard whenever a servant would appear, as though by magic, and offer him something to eat, or refill his cup when it was empty - something he would have to watch out for, lest he accidentally get sloshed in front of her father.
The halls they walk through now are ornate, carved stone and gilded windows, art the likes of which could buy a thousand ships decorating the walls. “I can’t believe you were going to give this up for a cabin and a galley.”
Emma snorts, hand holding his hook as they walk, swinging it between them. “One day in a castle and you’ve taken to the life?” she asks, parroting his words from so long ago. Killian only smirks.
“It’s a hard life to resist when it comes with such a lovely face,” he flirts and sees her cheeks flush even as she rolls her eyes. He reaches out and brushes a thumb over her blush. “And such a lovely colour.” He continues to trace along her jaw. “And such a lovely neck,” he says, fingers ghosting along the line of it.
Emma’s tongue slips out to run over her lip as her breathing shallows and he feels a pang of desire tug him closer. He’s not touched her, not properly, in over a week, and with the adrenaline of the last few days finally fading, he’s overcome with the need to feel her beneath his hand and mouth. He traces her collarbone, fingers inching towards the swell of her breasts, following the curve of the lace that hides her from him. “And such lovely -”
She pulls him down the hall, the last few meters to her bedroom where two guards stand outside, the same he’d done away with last night. “You can go, thank you,” she tells them, pushing the door open and dragging him inside. Killian can’t help the smug smirk he flashes at them before she shuts the door.
She grabs for him, tugging at the clasps of his vest as she scolds, “You can’t touch me like that in a hallway where my parents live and where there are a hundred guards constantly watching us.”
He raises an amused brow, shucking his coat and vest as she starts on the buttons of his shirt. “If this is your reaction, love, I think I very much can - and will.” He doesn’t give her a chance to answer, hooked arm wrapping around her waist, lifting her and spinning them so he can press her against the door. The wanton little gasp she gives when her back collides with the wood goes straight to his cock and he presses the hardening length into her as she wraps her legs around his hips, watching her bite her lip before claiming it for himself.
Gods he missed her. His mouth slants over hers finding her tongue and growling into her when her hands reach for his belt, tossing it to the floor and starting on his laces. This is hardly the way he’d intended for their reunion to go but her grip is already vice-like around him and he’s shoving her skirts up around her hips.
She strokes him hard, as though she can read his mind when she says, “we can go slow later.” There’s filth in her eyes and in her promise and he’s going to bloody lose his mind if he’s not inside her another moment. Killian takes her hands, forcing her to release him and pinning them above her head with hand and hook, the motion so familiar, too familiar.
He stops, memories of her - another her - splayed out on his desk while he fucked her like this and he knows she said Emma wouldn’t mind, but he does. His desire is replaced by guilt, and fear of her reaction when he tells her. Because he has to tell her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, sensing his change in mood.
“I…” He looks away, releasing her hands and they settle on his shoulders to steady herself as he lets her down carefully. “I have to confess something to you.”
“What is it?” Her voice is full of concern, for him and only for him, her hands gentle on his cheeks, stroking through the silver patches in his beard she knows better than him now. “You’re scaring me a little,” she says and he makes himself look at her, heart heavy.
“When the Emma from the Land Without Magic came here in your stead, she sought me out for help and I... I thought she was you and we shared… a dalliance. I’m sorry, love. If I’d known - I should have known.” He expects anger, fears hurt, but instead she sighs in what sounds like relief, a small smile at the corner of her lips before she rises on her toes and presses them to his. “You’re not angry?” he asks, pulling back in surprise, and relief.
She shakes her head. “You thought she was me, didn’t you?”
“Aye.”
“And you had no reason to think she wasn’t - I mean, she is me.” But she wasn’t. And that was what tore him up inside. “And, it would be hypocritical of me to be jealous.” He looks at her in question. “I thought… I thought you’d been cursed, given fake memories by the Evil Queen.”
“The Evil Queen?” She nods, his heart frantic at the thought of what danger she might have been in.
“I was terrified, and he - you - made me feel safe,” she says, hands gripping the collar of his shirt. “Like you always do.” He strokes a hand through her hair, glad that there was a version of him there to help her, to make sure she came back to him in one piece. He wouldn’t trust her safety to anyone else. “So if you’re guilty of something, then I suppose I am too. But I’m glad she found you, that she had you by her side because I don’t think I’d have made it through that ordeal without you either.”
“Emma,” he says softly, cupping the side of her face and kissing her brow. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And neither did you,” she says firmly. “I think that maybe you and I, Killian and Emma, are meant to find each other, to save each other, to fight for each other, no matter what world or circumstances we’re born into. We belong together. Always.”
His chest feels as though it was going to burst, swelling with the love he has for this woman, love that no time or place or distance or curse could ever falter. “I like the sound of that.”
“Good.”
He kisses her again, softer than before, hand gentle as he explores the length of her arms and back and waist through her dress. They have time for slow now. “You’re entirely over dressed,” he tells her and she nods, smiling as he reaches for her laces and begins to pull them free, mouth at her neck and then her breasts when he sends both dress and shift to pile to the floor.
“Now that,” he comments, looking over her shoulder, “is the biggest bloody bed I’ve ever seen in my life.” Emma laughs, one of the favorite sounds he knows he can draw from her. He scoops her up again, hand and hook wrapping her legs around his waist. “I say we make proper use of it,” he suggests, crossing the room.
He drops her on the mattress, watching her practically disappear beneath the thousands of pillows scattered over the blankets. He crawls over her, tossing them all aside one by one as he digs her out and she giggles. “First thing to go when I move in are these bloody pillows.”
Emma raises a brow, biting back her smile. “When you move in? That’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?”
He narrows his eyes playfully, dips his head to nip at her shoulder. “I believe I’ve all but been ordered to, love.” He nips her again, lower this time, teeth grazing over the swell of her breast. “And if there’s one thing a captain knows, it’s that orders must be obeyed.”
“Well, if they must, they must,” she says, long suffering and he kisses her quickly before sitting up to shuck his shirt, reaching for his brace. “Wait.” He stops and finds her watching him nervously, face flushing and he knows that expression. She wants something and she’s too embarrassed to ask for it.
“What is it?”
“I… Killian told me something else.”
He almost expected to feel jealousy, her blush and her hesitation making him think that he told her something in a very similar position to that in which they find themselves now. But he only finds curiosity, realizing it’s a rare and intriguing situation he finds himself in for her to have been with a version of him who didn’t share their history, who may know things about her that they’d not shared yet or that Emma doesn’t even know about herself. He remembers the ‘yes, captain’ that had fallen from the other Emma’s lips, something he’d not known he wanted to hear or that he would enjoy so much.
“I imagine he told you many things, he’s a very wise man,” he teases, lowering himself back down over her. She rolls her eyes a little but some of her anxiety wavers. He kisses her, chaste and sweet. “What is it, love? I’m not jealous.”
“He said that you take your hook off because you think I won’t like it - that most women are afraid of it.”
“Aye.” Insightful bastard, isn’t he?
Her eyes soften, fingers tracing the silver in his hair she’s so fond of as she brushes it back from his face. “Killian,” she sounds almost annoyed. “I’ve never been afraid of your hook. It’s as much a part of you as your hand or your wrist, or… any other appendages,” she flushes again and he smirks. Emma brings a hand to his cheek, eyes soft, serious. “I love every part of you, alright?”
He nods. “Alright.”
“Good. So only take it off with me if you want to. Not because you think I do. I know it makes you feel safer to have it on.” He was touched that she’d noticed, though he ever said anything, but after so many years of living at sea, at risk of attack at any moment, being caught without his brace and hook left him feeling vulnerable in more ways than one.
He leans down, lips falling over hers gently. “Thank you.” Emma reaches for him when he breaks the kiss, pulling him back down to her and presses her mouth to his. She kisses him slow and deep, mouths wide and tongues searching, Killian lowering himself over her as he tries to get closer. His stomach tightens at the small sounds she makes when her breasts press against his chest, when his hips lie flush with hers, the long, low moan she lets out when she feels his cock hardening against her.
He trails his mouth along her neck, tongue hot and wet against her skin as he tastes every inch of her. She gasps when he rolls his tongue over her nipple, pulling it into his mouth to nip and suck slowly, lazily and he can feel her growing more frustrated beneath him, clinging to his hair and back. Killian smiles against her skin, he knows that when she gets like this it’s so easy to make her come, that he’ll be able to do it again again on his fingers and tongue and cock. And it makes him wonder.
The high, choked sound that leaves her when he glides the rounded curve of his hook over her breast makes him growl low in his throat and he does it again, dragging the sharp tip in a slow circle around her nipple. She hisses out a ‘yes’, writhing slightly beneath him and gods he doesn’t think his cock has ever been so hard in his life.
He slides the edge over her stomach and watches her press her lips together in anticipation, nodding when he hesitates above the apex of her thighs. ‘Please’. The sight of her seaking her release on his hook is something he never thought he’d crave so desperately, and it drives him almost mad with lust.
His mouth closes over the peak of her breast again, hook between her legs, rolling over that sensitive bundle of nerves in time with the desperate rocking of her hips as he brings her to the edge once more. Her mumbled, incoherent pleas of his name and for more nearly make him spill himself in his leathers like a still wet-behind-the-ears lad. She’s always had this effect on him, the only one who seems to be able to defy his age and his experience and make him so bloody quick off the mark.
When he can see she’s nearly found her release, just at the crest of that clifftop, he slides between her thighs, thrusting into her and feeling her come on his cock. “Gods, you’re bloody brilliant, Swan,” he curses, rocking into her and relishing every exhausted little moan of pleasure that she lets out when he pushes back in. He can feel the ripples of aftershocks trembling around him. “Can you keep going, love?” he asks, watching the lazy way her back arches under him, her brow pulled low over tightly shut eyes, not wanting to push her past her limit with how tired she no doubt is.
He’d not meant it as a challenge, but he can see the way one flashes in her eyes when she opens them, narrows them at him, and then she’s pushing at his shoulder. He lets her roll him onto his back and he sits up when she falls over him to capture his mouth with hers, holding them both upright as she glues herself to him and kisses him until she draws a low moan from his chest.
She ruts her hips against his, a strangled cry falling from his lips as she smirks. “Can you?” He’s at a loss for words when her hand wraps around his length, rising and sinking down over him. His hand fists in her hair, drags her mouth back down to his and kisses her as she rocks against him. They pant and moan and gasp against each other’s lips, breaking away only enough to curse or speak words of praise and encouragement and pleas into the air between them as she moves over him.
He can tell that she’s close, the sounds leaving her faster and she pushes him down onto his back, leveraging herself on his chest as she rides him towards her release. She’s not a princess, she's a bloody goddess, golden hair falling around her shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she takes her pleasure, bringing him to the brink of his own.
He can’t not touch her, sliding over the length of her stomach, feeling each rise and fall of her ribs, closing his hand around the soft skin of her breast, thumb rolling over her hardened nipple. He traces up her neck to cup the back of her head when he feels her start to tremble around him, pulling her down to slant his lips over hers as he comes, hard and sharp and leaving him shaking, tasting her release on his tongue as she follows him over the edge.
“Gods, I missed you,” he breathes as she collapses over him. They lay panting for a long time, Emma’s weight a pleasant comfort over his chest and hips as he draws patterns over her back. When she eventually rolls off of him, he pulls her to him, tucking her back snugly against him and pressing a kiss to her ear.
“I think I’m a fan of this whole confession thing,” she says, still breathless and exhausted and he laughs. “Anything else you feel the need to get off your chest?” Emma teases.
“Not at the moment, love, but I’m sure I’ll be able to think of something once my heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to burst out of my chest.”
“I have one,” she says after a long pause and he can feel the shift in her mood. “I may have accidentally stolen the Jolly Roger back.”
“What?” He lifts his head and she looks over her shoulder at him.
“Yeah. I came back on board and it was empty and I brought it here to find you.”
“Bloody hell.” He wants to laugh. No doubt he’ll probably have to face Blackbeard at some point over it, but he’d not gone back on their bargain. Blackbeard had left the ship unattended and so it was taken from him. He beams at her, pressing a kiss to her lips. “You’re unbelievable.” His heart feels lighter. While he’d have traded it a hundred times over for the woman in his arms, he can’t shake the joy at having his ship back.
“Does that… change anything?”
“Like what?”
“Do you still want to stay? You have a choice now… more than you did when you said yes and I-”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Swan? There was never any choice. It was always you. I told you a year ago. I’ll be here until you send me away.”
A tear slips down her cheek but he knows it’s a happy one so he only kisses the trail it leaves in its wake. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Then I have something else to confess.”
“Oh?” he asks. Emma nods, reaching for his hand that’s still wrapped around her, resting over her heart. She draws it down until it rests low on her stomach and folds both her own over it. It takes him a moment, a heartbeat where he looks at her in confusion before it clicks and his heart doesn’t beat at all for a second. “Swan?” He looks up at her, searching her face for answers, not able to believe it, but she nods, lip caught between her teeth. “Are you sure?” His voice is rough, tears caught in the back of his throat.
“Yes.”
Killian shifts so she can roll onto her back, spreading his hand wider over her still flat stomach. He looks at her in awe more emotions than he has names for flooding through him as he leans down and kisses her belly. A child. His child, something he never thought he’d have. Milah hadn’t wanted any others after Bae and there’d been no one he’d wanted to share that with after she died. Until now.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“I’m bloody terrified,” he laughs, unable to look away from where his hand rests over the life they’ve created. Terrified and happy, the happiest he’s ever been in his long, long life.
“Oh, good, me too.”
He kisses her stomach again and then takes her face in his hand and kisses her the way he had when she told him she loved him, the same overwhelming joy and disbelief and honour. “Thank you.”
“I mean, you did half the work…”
He shakes his head, laughing as he kisses her again for her cheek. “For everything. For loving me, for fighting me on it, for bringing light and laughter and hope back into my life, Emma. I love you. So much. And I promise I’ll be there for you and for her,” he says, hand settling back over her stomach, “for the rest of my life.”
“Her?” she asks, her smile wet with tears that he wipes away.
“Aye. A little girl, strong and powerful like her mother, and born of true love like her as well.”
Emma pulls him down to her, kissing him hard and fast and he’s not sure whose tears are dampening their cheeks but he doesn’t care. “I love you.” She says it with so much certainty, a deep smile pulling at his lips. “But you remember that whole true love thing, okay. You’re gonna need it.”
Killian raises a brow. “Why’s that?”
“My dad might actually try and kill you for this.”
Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from my tag list!
@kmomof4 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @undercaffinatednightmare @jennjenn615 @dramioneswan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @batana54 @lfh1226-linda @csalltheway @xsajx @xarandomdreamx @onceratheart18 @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway @zaharadessert @thejollyroger-writer @ultraluckycatnd @justanother-unluckysoul @spartanguard @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @wefoundloveunderthelight @sailtoafarawayland @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @superchocovian @snowbellewells @xellewoods @sals86 @karlyfr13s @ouatpost @skairipakomtrikru @lonelyspectator12 @anmylica @alexa-fangirl-forever @inspiredbystardust @marcella2727 @paradiselady19 @koryandr @killiansprincss @goforlaunchcee
#captain swan#cs fanfic#cs ff#killian jones#cs smut#cs#cs au#captain swan fanfic#cs angst#wish realm au
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
Once Upon a Time S07E02
↳ RFW's Favorite OUAT Whump Moments (✚)
#once upon a time#killian jones#captain hook#wish realm hook#stabbed#fight scene#blood#pain#wincing#emma swan#jennifer morrison#colin o'donoghue#magical healing#second chances#ouat 7x02#ep: a pirate's life for me#favorite ouat moments
238 notes
·
View notes
Text
Why is S7 timeline so damn confusing?? Nearly 5 years later and I'm still on this.
How old would you say Ella is here? 15 or so? Okay agreed. A year later, when Anastasia (14) dies, she's 16. Anastasia gets put under that preservation spell and Rapunzel traps Gothel in the tower.
Alright, I'm with you so far. Some time later, Gothel tricks Hook into siring her kid. That kid, Alice, then spends 17 years in the tower before subconsciously conjuring a friendly giant that freed her.
Then Alice spends an unknown amount of time in Wonderland and other places before she crosses paths with Henry. Who has recently met Ella, whose an adult now.
So if Ella was 16 before Alice was born and it's been at least 17 years, does that make Ella around 33 in "Hyperion Heights" flashbacks? OK cool. I would assume Henry is around her age. Casting call describes him as being in his lat 20s to early 30s.
But wait. The description fits his cursed self not the very still optimistic Henry that Ella meets. Is cursed Henry in his mid 30s? And he's got a 10 year old daughter. Had to have been around mid 20s when she was born. And was early to mid 20s when he met Ella. And unless he's into older women, which is cool, then I'm going with the assumption that Ella was also around her early 20s when they met.
Then there's Drizella, who's a few years younger than Ella. And she appears to be around Alice age during the time of the "Hyperion Heights" flashbacks. Late teens - early 20s.
So Alice has been out of the tower for a few years. Good for her. Anyway, feels like Alice is the wrench in the gears here. She was trapped in a magical tower. Maybe 17 years only passed in the tower and only a few years in passed in the rest of the Magical Forest. Then there's Hook who definitely did not look like he only aged a few years.
But he was also a drunkard, so maybe the accessive drinking fucked up his appearance. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
#ouat#once upon a time#ouat s7#glass believer#henry mills#ella mills#lucy mills#alice jones#drizella tremaine#wish realm hook#wish hook#wish killian jones#wish captain hook#mother gothel#this is straight up just a rant
49 notes
·
View notes
Text
Love rumple and kids.
Crazy I was crazy once they put me in a room a rubber room a rubber room with rats.
I remember! I used to love those!
Just cute faces
Welcome back captain hook, crocodile.
Love that exchange.
Rumple vs facilier
Once again love his angry snarl face.
FUCK YOU FACILIER
Uh oh wish realm rumple.
They did something different with his eyes. They're more yellow.
You done fuck up facilier.
Everyone was right about you.
Spin spin spin.
Like how they finally have a truce.
#lem watches ouat#ouat#once upon a time#ouat rumple#rumplestiltskin#detective weaver#detective rogers#captain hook#killian jones#ouat facilier#wish realm rumple
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
OUAT Thoughts Pt.75--Episodes 21-22
I have watched through S7E22; there are no spoilers to be had. Spoiler warning for anyone further behind than I am, though.
Kinda satisfying that I got an even 75 on that.
—I have been ugly-crying for about twenty minutes.
—Rumple dying because he gave his heart to Hook is the most poetic, beautiful culmination of their stories I ever could’ve hoped for and it’s got me wrecked. And the fact that he did it expecting to never see Belle again makes it even more lovely of him....And the fact that Hook is going to spend the rest of his life walking around with Rumple’s heart inside of him...that’s beyond words for me.
—I’m never going to love like this again. This show is the single best story I have ever consumed and I loved every minute of it, even the parts *looking at you, finale* that emotionally destroyed me. Also, Rumple is the most stunning tragic character I’ve ever met and it is impossible for anyone to ever take his place in my heart.
—That scene where Rumple was fully prepared to kill Rumplestiltskin, to keep any realm from ever having to have him in it, was a pretty poignant personification of self-hatred and it was a really weird, dark kind of beautiful.
—Look at my funky lil lesbians going off to save the world!
—Alice was looking lovely at Regina’s coronation. That blue dress was so pretty.
—I cannot stress enough how much I adore the fact that in the last two episodes of the show, I got to see Rumple and Hook adventuring together as friends.
—Rumple calling Rumplestiltskin “crocodile” was fun.
—I’m rather glad I picked up CaptainCroc as my new hobby, because I think this stuff would’ve hurt me even worse if I wasn’t trying to pick up the little bits of happiness and inspiration between them, and starting to come up with how it goes down in my AU even while it was unfolding in canon. CaptainCroc may be my comfort ship.
—It’s great that the last time we saw Emma, she was wearing her red leather jacket and a full-length dress. V cool.
—Seriously, did they have to make the last shot of the entire show the “Leaving Storybrooke” sign? That is exactly the opposite of what I want to do. I want to live in Storybrooke for the rest of my life and never have to think about being without it again. I want Storybrooke to be a constant presence in my brain and a weighted blanket for my heart and I want to imagine it happy and full of life and with all the characters I adore in it.
—Moving all the realms to one place so nobody can ever be separated again was kind of fun.
—In case you hadn’t guessed, I think I lost a couple more marbles watching those two episodes. I’m also reinforcing my belief that fanfic, headcanons, and fan-life in general is the ultimate form of escapism and comfort and I can’t imagine not turning to it at the end of something great.
—Seeing Henry dark and angry was weird. I’m glad he got out of that without actually killing Regina, because I think would’ve been the end of me. And now he gets an entire family to help him get back on the right path. (Which he appears to be doing, as he’s wearing a sheriff’s badge. Nice to see that’s still in the family.)
—It’s nice that Tiana and Naveen appear to have ended up together.
—In similar news, I also kinda like that wish realm Hook didn’t end up in a romantic relationship. It was his bond with Alice that was important, and even if the writers maybe strayed from that a bit every now and then, it was both nice to see and also, and a parent and child thing, very OUAT.
—It’s great that we got to see Robin ask for Hook’s blessing to marry Alice. I want my girl to have the happiest ending possible, and it looks like she gets it.
—I suddenly realized that the entire time Rumple was in Hyperion Heights, he didn’t seem to have a single problem with his leg, and that’s maybe a little disappointing. Hook had a false hand. Without magic, Rumple still should’ve had a limp, even if made it a bit harder to do detective action sequences.
—Hook and Alice kinda have the same cute ear shape. Iykyk, and if you don’t I’m sad for you.
—Still crying, and it’s taken me about fifteen minutes to write this much. Mostly because I’m crying.
—I like how Hook’s alcoholism is taken seriously in this last season, and in a pretty subtle way. At Flynn’s Barcade, Nick and Henry had beers while Hook had a lemon water (warding off scurvy, I’m sure). In episode 21, Regina and Rumple had a drink and Hook had what I’m assuming is water, but in a mug. (I drink cool/warm temperature beverages in mugs to annoy my kid sister, and let me tell you it’s a fun little way to mess with people. Hook should do it more often.) Also, when Hook and Rumple went to Hook’s old home in the wish realm, the booze there was specifically mentioned in connection with the fact that Hook basically went there to die a slow death. I would give a round of applause for the writers, but the writers have upset me, so I’m withholding the applause. So there.
—As sad as I am, I do love that now nobody has to choose between Storybrooke, their magical realm of origin, or Hyperion Heights *snort*
—I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet, but Killian is such the beautiful name. I love it. I know what I’m naming one of my next two plushies.
—Yes, I hate, despise, and loathe the fact that Rumple is dead, but it really was the perfect ending to his story. And his story was the most amazing one to come out of this show, which is saying a lot. I’m glad he’s with Belle again, because my head knows that’s how he gets his happy ending, even if my heart doesn’t want him to be gone.
—It was nice to see Snow and Charming again. Especially in such pretty clothes.
—Their little round table was the start of my crying. Three generations of heroes, how does it get better?
—Okay, I hated seeing him again, but good on Rumplestiltskin to have Peter Pan in the stocks. He had it coming.
—Very nice that original Hook had a bit of rubber on his hook so he could hold the baby safely.
—Also, very nice to actually see Hook and Emma’s happy ending. And Hope is the best possible name for their baby.
—I don’t stan wish realm Rumplestiltskin, because I already have the Rumple I love, but hearing him say “dearie” again sure was nice.
—Henry was a bit of an arse. He hit Hook over the head to sneak off and do inadvisable things. He basically told Rumple that he didn’t deserve a happy ending. And you know, that was a particularly arse move with his mother, also an ex-villain, standing right behind him. *shakes head*
—As you’re probably tired of hearing, this show is now my favorite story that I’ve ever experienced. One of the things I love most about it is the theme of hope. That’s hard to find sometimes, in our world, but I find that a lot of what these characters say, and what they go through, especially some of the stuff between Regina and Henry in recent episodes, resonates. It makes sense. And it does exactly what Regina wanted to do for wish realm Henry: it shows that if these people can survive, and hold onto hope, despite the bad things that go on in their lives, so can we. And I love that. Realism has its place, but that place is far away from me. I live in reality, and a dose of fantasy and joy and hope is exactly what I need in my stories, and I’ve found it nowhere better than here. The villains redeemed themselves, because the heroes gave them a second chance. Regina and Rumple and Hook got happy endings just like Emma and the Charmings did. Full marks.
—In other news, I have other stuff I have to do tomorrow night, but on Thursday I will be starting the series over. Which means I get to see Rumple A) alive, and 2) with his suit and long hair. Quite dapper. V dashing. Also, he’s gonna say “dearie” a whole lot.
#once upon a time#ouat#rumplestiltskin#rumple#Captain Hook#wish realm#Alice jones#Alice#Alice x robin#Robin Hood#captaincroc#Emma swan#storybrooke#Henry Mills-swan#tiana#naveen#Killian Jones#the charmings#Peter Pan#leaving Storybrooke? I don't think so#it's my new permanent address#yk#in an emotional/metaphysical kinda way#wish I could live there fr#martianbugsbunny reviews
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
I know we always talk about Killian & his PTSD (especially after the Underworld arc) BUT. we never talk about Emma's so here I am to rectify that
you ever think about how terrified she must have been that none of it was real, that she was living false memories ?? I mean, think about it.
she had the false memories Regina gave her (s3), the knowledge in Isaac's book (s4) (she didnt have false memories but she knew others do & how that world functioned), the mind games with the darkness (s5), the wish realm memories & then the cursed memories (s6). and not to mention all the visions & nightmares she was shown to have.
my point is - after s6, she should have NO grip on reality and what's true anymore. fearing that any moment she would wake up & her entire life would be a lie - fabricated by a villain intent on keeping her complacent.
and because to me, CS is the heart of the show, I have to mention it
she would turn INCREDIBLY clingy w/ killian, needing constant, constant physical affirmation that he's there & that he's real. getting paranoid if she wakes up & he isn't there - even if he's just in the bathroom or getting water, or just woke up before her. feeling anxious that something is wrong if they're not together for more than a few hours. quite literally glued to his hip out of fear of losing him, fear that it was just some cruel play by hades, or the fairy, or gold, to make her think her happy ending was finally hers, only to eventually rip it away from her ?
#please tell me if anyone else has thought ab this. please i cant be the only one#i have many... many thoughts about this#yea I'm normal; why ?#emma swan#captain swan#ouat
73 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm back!!! After months and months of creative exhaustion and writer's block, this story came to me one night when I couldn't sleep. It's just a little one shot of pillow talk in Camelot that's a little fluffy, a tiny bit angsty, and a whole lot of tenderness. I hope you all enjoy it!
Rated T
Killian wished for the first time for those garish artificial lights of Storybrooke. As Emma said, he was becoming a 21st century man, and he had come to enjoy the ability to see his beloved in all her glory, even after the sun went down. Here in Camelot, however, he had to rely on his sense of touch alone to map the marks on Emma he had come to know so well.
“You and I, we understand each other,” Emma had said once, and the longer they were together, the more they saw it to be true. Though many a woman had warmed his bed, he still felt self-conscious the first time Emma saw the scars that riddled his body, yet she had smiled in that knowing way she had, and had cheekily said, “let me show you mine.”
His thumb now grazed the puckered one on her shoulder, a form of punishment by a foster father using the tip of his cigar. He nudged her hair aside with his nose, then lightly brushed his lips across the faint white line behind her right ear, caused by a broken beer bottle.
“I thought I ducked in time,” Emma had chuckled when she told him the story, “until I felt the trickle of blood dripping down my neck.”
He knew what it was to make light of a person’s past, as if childhood slavery was just one of those things that happens sometimes. There was nothing normal about it, however, just as there was nothing normal about Emma living in an alleyway at the age of ten ducking from beer brawls.
Emma shifted in his arms with a contented sigh. He wished she could sleep, but since the darkness wouldn’t allow herself that reprieve, at least she could find solace in his embrace. “You silence the voices in my head,” she had told him, pressing her nose to his collarbone. If that was the case, he would not leave her side, though the sleeping arrangements hadn’t made her father very happy at first.
Killian’s fingers danced along the jagged scars along her upper back, the newest ones, from when a skip she was chasing pushed her into a plate glass window. That story elicited a shrug and bragging rights that she only missed a few days of work. Bravado – he understood that defense mechanism as well.
They really did understand one another.
Emma reached around for his arm and pulled his hand down to lace his fingers with hers. She pressed their joined hands to her chest, and he noticed the slightest change in her bearing. An almost imperceptible stiffening, and did her pulse just kick up a notch? She shifted again, this time as if she were uncomfortable.
“Are you alright, love?”
Emma released his hand, and using her magic, she lit the candles in the room. Then she rolled over to face him, her hands fluttering, as if she didn’t know whether to touch him or not. She finally balled them up in the sheet that covered her, pulling it up to her chin.
“Do you know the song ‘Brandy’?”
Killian chuckled. “You know my only knowledge of this realm’s music is you and Henry. Right now your lad is educating me on something called punk? Apparently, it was a favorite of his father’s.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, Neal loved that stuff. I prefer the classics.”
“Like those beetle people?”
“The Beatles, Killian, and yes. Also Motown, Elvis, Creedence Clearwater Revival. I don’t know why, I just always liked the old stuff.”
“And this song? ‘Brandy’? Is by one of these singing groups?”
“Uh, no, but it's kind of the same genre, I guess. I don’t know even know who sings it, actually. I thought maybe you’d heard it at Granny’s or something. It’s about this girl and a sailor, so . . . “
“Ah.” He nodded, encouraging her to go on. He was glad she’d lit the candles, though he still couldn’t see her well. Well enough, however, to see the furrow of her brow and the way her lips turned down. This was obviously about more than a song. “Most sailors I know prefer rum, though. Brandy is a little high brow for our modest tastes.”
Emma rolled her eyes, which was precisely what he’d been going for. “Brandy is a woman. She lives by the sea and serves drinks to sailors. In a tavern, I guess.”
“Aptly named.”
Emma adjusted her pillow beneath her head and rolled over. She continued the story gazing up at the ceiling instead of looking at him.
“The song tells the story about her and the man she falls in love with. He’s a sailor, and he loves her, but always leaves her.”
Killian is beginning to see where this is going. He shifts closer to her, propping his head up on his blunted arm so he can look down at her as she speaks. With his hand, he strokes her arm gently.
“The chorus,” Emma continues, “is what the man always says to her: Brandy, you’re a fine girl. What a good wife you would be, but my life, my love, my lady is the sea.”
There are many things Killian could say. The first thought that comes to his mind is that the man in the song is either an idiot or a complete cad who most likely has a girl in every port. He’s known the type. People probably assume he’s the type, but he was always careful that his one-night stands had the same expectations he did. He actively avoided women who would be a “good wife.” Not every sailor had good form, however. He could explain all of that to Emma; tell her that the song is unfortunately a common tale, but it’s never been his.
He knows, however, that none of those things are what Emma needs right now. So he waits, without moving, his hand still caressing her arm. Emma releases a puff of angry breath before speaking again.
“I’ve always hated that song.”
“Emma, love,” Killian says gently, shifting onto his back and reaching for her, “come here.”
She comes to him a bit shyly, and he smiles at her gently as he cups her face with his hand. In her gaze, he can see hesitation. Fear. He doesn’t know if it’s the darkness whispering doubts, or if it’s her same old insecurities, but this is one battle he knows how to help her fight.
“My life,” he says, kissing her cheek, “my love,” he kisses her nose, “my lady,” he kisses her forehead, then pulls back so he can gaze into her eyes, “is you, Emma.”
Her eyes well up with tears, and a hesitant smile teases the corners of her mouth. “The Jolly Roger was your home for so long. You had nothing holding you back. Nothing tying you down.”
Killian shakes his head. “Emma, you said once that you and I understand one another. You, like me, were an orphan. What is the one thing all orphans want more than anything else?”
“A home,” Emma breathes without hesitation.
Killian nods, then kisses her fiercely, pulling her to himself, his hand tangling in her hair, pouring into his kiss all his hopes and dreams for their future. When they part, breathless, Emma presses her forehead to his, her smile finally full and joyous.
“So I didn’t freak you out when I mentioned that white picket fence?”
Killian tucks her against him, wrapping his arms fully around her. As he kisses the top of her head, he thinks of the real estate ads he and Henry have been looking at, one house in particular that looks fit for a princess, with a view of the sea.
“Not at all, love. I want that too.”
Emma snuggles further into his embrace, her hand splayed on his chest, right over his heart.
“Good,” she says, with that edge of smugness he’s always found so endearing.
He tries to stay awake, for her sake, but the warm, flickering light of the candles, combined with the softness of her in his arms, lulls him more than the ocean waves. Just as sleep pulls him under, he murmurs against her hair.
“You’re my home now, Emma. My life, my love, my lady.”
Tagging: @snowbellewells @jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateherokillian @jonesfandomfanatic @linda8084
I don't even know who is around anymore, so let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag list!!
#captain swan#killian jones#emma swan#once upon a time#captain swan fanfic#captain swan ff#captain swan fanfiction#fluff#sweetness#intimacy#pillow talk#canon compliant
46 notes
·
View notes
Note
Let's spread some love 😘. What are some of your top five favourite cs fics?
i love this oh gosh, also god i have too many ;;
ok in no particular order:
breathless by AcrobatElle - LINK
genuinely cannot emphasis enough how much EVERYONE needs to read this one. there is spice, but like the most heart wrenching, bring you to your knees, soul moving thing you've ever read. i won't spoil it but please, run don't walk to read this one
a uniquely portable magic by @wistfulcynic - LINK
listen, it actually pains to pick only one of saira's fics because i love them ALL. but if i HAD to, it would be this one. this is my desert island fic, the one i reread over and over. i can't even describe how beautifully she writes and how much every fic of hers feels like coming home, but they just do. cannot recommend highly enough just going through her archive <3
running home to your sweet nothings by @sotangledupinit - LINK
gonna be a little stinker and pick mary's most recent fic. i would have also said her run rogers run fic from christmas last year buuuuut, listen. i love her current fic. i am a sucker for EF lieutenant duckling AUs where Emma is actually given a sword and allowed to go buck wild (aka what should have actually happened in the wish realm episode SORRY) so this one really hits the spot so gooood
tactical magic by @iverna - LINK
my one true love in cs fics is witch!emma in a urban fantasy setting and i love, LOVE what svenja does in this fic. also i just love the way she writes emma and killian in all her fics, they always feel so true to the characters every single time, and she treats them both with such love and attention
iridescent blue by @pirateherokillian - LINK
listen only pip could write a werewolf story about a mauling for an event called january joy and still make it one of the sweetest things you've ever read ;; i love how she writes both emma and killian in all her fics, they always feel so real to me whenever i read her stuff
also massive shoutouts to the authors i first read when i got into the fandom and got me hooked @hollyethecurious , @the-darkdragonfly , @elizabeethan and @cosette141 please just go and raid their ao3's i'm so serious
#asks#oh god this is so long i'm SORRY#but also hey if you got witch emma fics please send them my way they're my favourite thing#cs fic rec
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
sons of love and death, 2/13 {CSSNS 23}
Summary: After the Final Battle, Killian Jones had finally settled into his happily ever after with his wife and family. Until a new foe arrived in Storybrooke: the infamous Dorian Gray, who looks rather familiar—one might say identical—to the pirate, and he’s on a mission: to claim the powers of the Dark One for himself. There’s only one problem: the Dark One no longer exists. What follows is a journey of vengeance, revelations, magic, and finally facing down the darkness within himself that Killian thought he’d finally put to rest. [roughly canon divergent from 5B, though set post-canon]
A/N: Time for the next chapter of this year’s @cssns story! (I plan to update every Wednesday :D ) Thank you for the warm reception to the first part; hope you enjoy this next one as well! Also: A shout-out to my writing crew on Discord; thank you for all your support as I've worked on this!!!! (And eternal thanks to the best beta, @optomisticgirl!)
rated M | 2.6k words | AO3 | 1
"That's not Killian."
"Are you sure?" David sounded skeptical of Emma’s statement, but she had no clue why.
"Of course I'm sure; he’s my freaking husband. That's not him," she insisted, pointing to the (admittedly handsome) stranger in the cell.
For starters, Emma had literally just left Killian at the library; there was no way he'd have had the time to start a fight with Leroy at Granny's AND get arrested in the span of 5 minutes. (At least, not anymore.)
Second, she would know him anywhere, any time, in any world. Even the haggard version of Killian she’d met in the Wish Realm was undeniably him.
So while this clearly hungover man looked and sounded like Killian, she knew it wasn't. There was nothing but anger deep in this man's eyes—a look Killian hadn't had in ages. She briefly entertained the possibility he was cursed, or that this was some kind of glamour spell or time travel, but then she took a closer look at his face: the scar was all wrong—it was deeper and cut a jagged line into his left cheek; Killian's was light and curved down the right side. And to top it all off, he had two hands.
But that only raised another question.
"Who are you?"
"Finally, one of you idiots doesn't pretend to know me." A chill went down her spine; it was Killian's voice, alright, but with more venom and spite than his ever had in the time she’d known him. And the accent was ever so slightly different—less of a lilt and more of an edge.
"I'll ask again: who are you?" She'd gotten pretty good at reading Killian, but it was proving near impossible with this guy (further proof that it was not her favorite pirate).
"How about you tell me who everyone thinks I am?" There was a challenge in his tone.
"Nope." No way was she letting him find out about Killian if he didn’t already know. "Why are you here, then?"
"That's my business." His face suddenly turned dark—well, darker—and she grew fearful. Because even though she knew he was a different person, he was starting to remind her an awful lot of the man she found hiding under some bodies in the Enchanted Forest, who was willing to burn heaven and hell to get his revenge.
"You made it our business when you came into this town," David supplied. "Either tell us why you're here, and maybe we can help you, or let us escort you out of town."
A sudden rage came over the man, and he jumped up and grabbed at the cell's bars. "I'm not leaving until I've taken what's mine!" A fire burned in his eyes as he shouted.
No, wait—that was actual fire. His hands began to glow a hot red-orange and she heard a distinct hissing sound. Two jaws dropped as the man melted the metal in his hands and then some, giving him an easy exit.
He angrily stepped through the hole he'd just made and began to stride out of the station. David attempted to grab him, but the man twisted away and turned to give them both a menacing look.
"Stay out of my way and leave the Dark One to me," he warned. A moment later, he appeared to be engulfed in flames, and the next, he was gone. Emma exchanged a look of shock with her father.
"Definitely not Hook."
“Duh,” she deadpanned. But she was stuck on something else. "The Dark One?"
"He must not know."
They didn't get a chance to process the encounter before the station phone was ringing. David answered it and hung up not a minute later, sighing.
"Speaking of."
"Gold?"
"Yeah. Turns out his shop got ransacked last night."
"Shit. And I bet we know who did it."
★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★
So he had a doppelganger in this town; that was why everyone seemed to know him. He had transported to a spot down the street from the pawn shop and was mulling over this new detail as he made his way there, lighting a fresh cigarette as he went. He relished the fact that he'd made some trouble for his lookalike. And maybe he could use that to his advantage here.
The door still hung ajar at the pawn shop when he arrived and he could hear someone shuffling around inside. He had to pause and take a moment to calm himself down—after centuries, he was finally only feet away from his quarry; he couldn't let his hot temper get in the way right now.
As quietly as he could, he stepped toward the entryway and looked in. A graying man was poking around and muttering, leaning on a cane and inspecting the damage. Why didn’t he just wave his hand and fix it all? Surely the Dark One would have no issue with magic as small as that.
A horrific thought entered his mind: what if the power of the Dark One was void in this realm? And that was why he had a hard time sensing it? He finally got a glimpse of the crippled man’s face: it was definitely Rumpelstiltskin. But he’d yet to pick up any full traces of that dark magic.
“I know you’re there, dearie,” a voice with a distinct brogue called out. Smirking, he stepped through the threshold.
He finally stood to face-to-face with his longtime prey. Rumpelstiltskin stared back; he looked nothing like how a Dark One should appear, though—he was utterly and completely normal.
“Captain, this is highly unusual.” In his reverie, he missed the look of recognition in the Dark One’s eyes.
Captain? Well that was a juicy little tidbit. Perhaps there’d be an adjoining vessel with which to hightail it out of here. “Just seeing how you liked my handiwork.”
Only a few feet of rubble-covered wood floor separated the two. “Are you here about your hand, or is there some other reason you’ve decided to break into and ransack my shop? I thought we were done, for good.”
Hand? He quickly thought back to the appendage in a jar and made sure both of his were out of sight as he meandered across the shop, pausing to lean against the counter. “I think there’s something else you can help me with, Dark One.”
“Really? Still using that title.” Rumpeltstiltskin gave a self-satisfied smirk that looked far too natural on his face.
Careful to use his right hand (the one in the jar was a left, he’d noticed), he took the dying cigarette from his teeth and put it out in the wood of the counter. Anger rose in his chest at his foe's cockiness and lack of fear—that wasn’t something he was used to. “Where is the dagger?” he asked, voice low.
“The dagger?” Rumpelstiltskin bore an incredulous expression, but the confusion only set off his own anger (so much for trying to collect himself). In a flash, he was at the other man’s throat, the beginnings of a ball of fire forming in his palm just inches from the Dark One’s face.
“Where is your dagger?” he growled again, emphasizing each word.
A stream of emotions flitted across the apparent Mr. Gold’s face: confusion, anger, fear, and finally realization.
“Who are you?” he sputtered out.
“The man who’s going to take your power.” His voice was barely more than a rasp at this point; he was too close to back down now.
To his utter shock, the Dark One laughed. It took him by surprise, and the fireball fizzled out before it had even finished forming.
But he regained composure. “You find your demise funny?”
“I know who you are; you've been dogging me for years. But you’re too late, by quite some time. There is no Dark One; not anymore.”
He pulled back, jaw slack. Out of all the scenarios he’d envisioned, he hadn’t even contemplated this. “Impossible.”
“I’ll let the sheriff explain.”
Seemingly on cue, Emma from the station barged through the open door, gun raised and leveled at his chest. As if that would do anything. He was about to knock back the weapon with a wave of his hand, but something in her steely gaze gave him pause.
She didn’t fuck around, he could tell. But he wasn’t about to let some small-town cop spoil his quest. He guessed she had been nothing more than a jailer back in the Enchanted Forest—he knew well enough how the curse worked. So she was certainly no match for him.
"Look, darling, like I said—this doesn’t involve you.” He walked toward her, adopting a softer tone, as if speaking to a pet. “Now, I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. But if you won’t leave me be, sweetheart, then you leave me no choice."
Another fireball appeared in his hand and he shot it toward the sheriff. But she deflected it with a jerk of her arm and a pulse of white light. Of course the law enforcement had magic, he thought with a sigh. Just then, the male sheriff arrived; could he do the same?
"Who the hell are you?" she asked with a confident but stern voice.
"Well ain't that the question of the hour." She was staring daggers at him. "You can read my name when it’s engraved on the Dark One’s dagger," he threw back, gesturing at Rumpelstiltskin. "Run along now; this is between us." He waved her off.
She wasn’t fazed. Instead, she smirked, taking a thick black bracelet her partner offered. "You know what this does?"
"No clue." He didn't have time for games, but before he knew it, she'd slipped it onto his wrist.
He tried to conjure it off—burn through it, melt it, anything—but nothing happened; it was as if his magic was blocked. "What the fuck?" Tugging was no use, either. "What did you do?" he roared.
Smoothly, she cuffed him—with actual handcuffs this time. Before they left, she looked over at the former Dark One. “Is there any way to tell—”
“Yes, indeed.” A yank of his head and a prick of pain on his scalp told him that Rumpelstiltskin had taken some of his hair.
“What the hell do you need that for?” His query fell on deaf ears.
“I’ll require the Captain’s, too,” his foe told the sheriff, who nodded in assent.
He was unceremoniously shoved outside and into the back of the squad car. “Don’t you have to read me my rights in this country?” he protested.
“Yeah. You have the right to shut up.”
Surprising himself, he complied. The weight of what he’d been told moments earlier was just beginning to settle in: there was no more Dark One. As preposterous as it sounded, it made sense: there were no traces of the Darkness, or even magic, on Rumpelstiltskin, and nothing as dark as what he sought anywhere here. A sense of emptiness consumed him as he realized his life's purpose, his lone goal, simply ceased to exist.
What now?
★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★
The wail of the siren was a rude and somewhat jarring intrusion on the peace and quiet of the library. Killian nearly dropped the book he was reshelving—part of his new role as assistant librarian—and Belle was interrupted from her processing of returned items. Both watched the squad car speed by, then exchanged a concerned look.
"They...they were coming from the direction of the shop," Belle stated, shakily. After everything had been resolved with the Darkness and everyone returned to the land of the living, he and the former Dark One had come to an uneasy peace, mainly for the sake of Belle. She was his closest friend in town, outside of his in-laws, and they would always share a unique bond in their love affairs with the Dark One; hers was far longer than his, although his own dabble with the Darkness made his (and Emma’s) a bit more intense.
And in the varying events of their lives since—Gideon’s (traumatic) birth, his and Emma’s wedding, the fight against the Black Fairy, Henry’s departure, and everything else—they’d been by each other’s sides, even going so far as to work together at the library. (Emma had offered him a position at the station, but was more than understanding when Belle’s counteroffer won out, knowing how it would sate his constant craving for knowledge.) Belle was like the little sister he’d never had, and he felt protective over her.
So that was why, without hesitation, he set the books down and stepped toward the door. "Shall we?"
She quickly joined him and they raced outside and down the street to the shop. He wasn't surprised to see the door hanging open, but the lack of a doorknob altogether was surprising, as well as what looked like puddles of solid metal on the ground.
"Rumple! Are you alright?" Belle shouted as she ran into the arms of the man in question. Glass crunched underfoot and Killian had to admit, it was an impressive mess.
"Who came to exact their revenge this time?" he asked dryly. He never agreed to liking his former adversary—only the barest level of civility.
"Ahh, of course you'd know the signs of vengeance anywhere," Gold snarled back. In a few surprisingly short strides, the man was in front of Killian and reached up to yank a few hairs from his head.
"Rumple!" Belle admonished.
"What the hell was that for, mate? It wasn't me." Killian cursed Gold further internally while rubbing at the now-sore spot on his scalp.
"I know that. But there's something else we have to figure out." Rumpelstiltskin placed the hairs in a vial from his jacket, which had a few others in there already. "Belle, my darling, will you help me with something?"
"Of course," she immediately replied, but Killian could see confusion and a bit of worry on her face. Her husband may have lost his powers and was no longer under the influence of the darkness, but it had still shaped his personality over the centuries and no one but Belle knew if he had any true remaining malevolence.
"Now why don't you run along to the station, Captain. I think there's something there of interest to you." Killian didn't like the threatening tone that came his way, but he nodded his assent and bid Belle goodbye.
As he rushed across town, he felt uneasy about what was waiting at the station; regardless of what he'd been told, his concern was directed at Emma before himself. He couldn't bear the thought of some evil attaching itself to or going after her again, and it was nothing good that melted that doorknob and trashed the store.
By the time he was within a block of the station, he was sprinting, fear consuming him as his imagination ran faster than his feet. "Emma!" he shouted as he threw open the station door and ran in.
To his relief, she seemed untouched, and was deep in conversation with David and whoever was in one of the station's cells.
"Hey, is everything alright?" she asked as he wrapped his arms around her.
"If you're fine, then yes," he sighed into her hair. "Gold told me to come here; I was worried."
She pulled back to study his face, and he could see the trepidation on her face. "Swan, what is it?"
Before she could answer, a familiar voice called out from the cell—perhaps too familiar. "What the actual fuck?"
Killian looked at the prisoner and began to wonder if his eyesight was finally failing him or if there was some kind of magic afoot, because he may as well have been looking in a mirror at the form identical to his behind the bars.
"Bloody hell."
★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★
thanks for reading! (longer chapters to come!) tagging some peeps (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows @wingedlioness @word-bug @thisonesatellite @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rogers: Hey Killian, which one of our daughters do you think would win in a fight?
Killian: Well, that's an interesting question...though considering the fact that Alice is about 30 and Hope is 5 months old...
Rogers:
Killian:
Rogers:
Killian: I'm placing my bets on Hope.
#im obsessed with the idea of these two chilling out together#and with them comparing their daughters#incorrect quotes#incorrect ouat quotes#killian jones#detective rogers#wish realm hook#nook#alice jones#hope swan jones#once upon a time#ouat#captain hook
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Trying to Solve an Unsolvable Puzzle: The Characters and their Surprising Canonical Ages
I did some math. It hurt very much but Becky have to do it. This timeline has been haunting my nightmares for years and I finally snapped. I decided to look at canon evidence to determine the ages of the characters. It is not possible for all characters and I've attempted this before but last time I took my own theories into account. I've already posted these thoughts on another site and this time it's using canon as a basis, with some, I think, reasonable inferences made where necessary. And all I can say is:
(gif not mine)
TL;DR (ph indicates what their physical age should be and ps indicates their past self. It's a little adjusted for the months of their birth)
Emma: Present day season one - 28 | Henry met Ella - 37 | Lucy's Birth - 50 | Present day Hyperion Heights - 60 | Coronation - 37 (ps) ~
Snow: Present day season one - 55 / 27 (ph) ~ | Henry met Ella - 65 / 37 (ph) ~ | Lucy's birth - 78 / 50 (ph) ~ | Present day Hyperion Heights - 88 / 60 (ph) ~ | Coronation - 65 / 37 (ps) ~
Regina: Present day season one - 63 / 35 (ph) ~ | Henry met Ella - 73 / 45 (ph) ~ | Lucy's birth - 86 / 58 (ph) ~ | Present day Hyperion Heights - 96 / 68 (ph) ~
David: Present day season one - Present day season one - 55 / 27 (ph) ~ | Henry met Ella - 65 / 37 (ph) ~ | Lucy's birth - 78 / 50 (ph) ~ | Present day Hyperion Heights - 88 / 60 (ph) ~ | Coronation - 65 / 37 (ps) ~
Rumple: Present day season one - 200 ~
Original Killian Jones: Present day season one - 180 ~
Henry: Left for adventure - 18 | Met Ella - 19 ~ | Lucy's birth - 32 | Present day Hyperion Heights - 42
Ella: Met Henry - 51 ~ | Lucy's birth - 64 | Present day Hyperion Heights - 74
Zelena: Present day season one - 65 ~ | Henry met Ella - 75 ~ | Lucy's birth - 88 ~ | Present day Hyperion Heights - 98 ~
Alice: When Henry met Ella - 37 | Lucy's Birth - 50 | Present day Hyperion Heights - 60
Robin: Lucy's Birth - 18 | Present day Hyperion Heights - 28
Drizella: Ella met Henry - 49 ~ | Lucy's birth - 62 | The s7 curse is cast - 70 / 62 (ph), Present day Hyperion Heights - 72 / 64 (ph)
So let's start with the thing that has kept me awake for damn near 5 years: Alice Jones' age makes absolutely no sense.
So, Alice was said to have been born just a little after the curse was cast (so a little after Emma). If we're to go by what is stated several times in the show, this is before her father or his realm even existed lol. in s6 we are told that the Wish Realm was created via a wish made by the Serum Evil Queen on Emma's behalf. But in s7 we learn that a younger Wish Hook travelled to the New Enchanted Forest and fathered baby Alice with Gothel years before the Wish Realm was supposedly created. We could write this off as a fake memory, implanted by the wish, if not for the fact that Alice is living proof that the Wish Realm existed long before Serum Queen's wish.
The only way this makes sense is if the Wish Realm was not created by a wish, but was only assumed to have been. But then were Wish Snow and Charming raising a non-existent daughter? Did the original Emma replace Wish Emma when the wish was made? You would think a Wish Emma had to have existed to have given birth to Wish Henry.
I've seen theories that suggest Alice's ageing temporarily ceased in Wonderland or in any/several of the other realms she travelled to in search of a cure. It's also possible that her ageing is much slower than average due to her Nymph blood (just look at 1,000 + year-old Gothel).
But regardless of the rate of her physical ageing, the major problem is, however much you age up Alice, you have to age Ella up by approximately at least another 14-15 years. This is going by how old young Ella appeared to be in 7x09. And I refer to this because Gothel was not imprisoned in the tower until Anastasia fell into the frozen lake. So, if we're being generous, we could say that Wish Hook found the tower and was tricked by Gothel very shortly after that event and then, of course, Gothel gave birth the next day.
If Alice was the same age as Emma, which is what the show wants us to believe, Alice would be at least 37 when Henry was 19. That, in turn, would put Ella at around 51 at the time, if we assume she was about 14 when Anastasia fell through the ice. The reason for this is that Emma gave birth to Henry when she was 18. We know he spent his 19th birthday in the Crimson Crow in the NEF with Jack, which was before he met Ella and 18 + 19 = 37.
We see Henry's 18-year-old cousin Robin arrive at the NEF when Lucy is a newborn. We can infer that Henry was approximately 14 when Robin was born. So when Henry was 19, Robin was 5. I have to add an extra 13 years to each character, to account for the time it took for Robin to turn 18. So Alice was at least 50 when Lucy was born! Henry was 32 and Ella was at least 64! It's possible they were lovers/married for 13 years or fewer before Lucy was born.
It's most likely that Henry was closer to 19 and Ella was closer to 51 when they met because the S7 Hyperion Heights gang went back in time to when Robin was 5. Henry had just graduated and was set to leave before Emma was visibly pregnant. He was 18 when he left for his adventure. At Regina's coronation, Prince Neal looks to be around 6 or 7. He is around a year older than Robin. Emma couldn't have fallen pregnant too long after 18-year-old Henry left, if not pregnant already because Prince Neal hadn't aged much since before Henry left, and Emma and Hook have a presumably newborn Hope at the coronation.
Then 10 years passed until we found ourselves in present-day Hyperion Heights with a 10-year-old Lucy. That would imply that Alice was 60, Henry was 42 and his wife Ella was 74 in Hyperion Heights!
Regina and Zelena were likely over 90 at this point. For this, I had to make an estimation of their ages when the 1st curse was cast. In the companion canon book 'Regina Rising', Regina is 16 when Snow is 8, so Regina is 8 years older than Snow. In 3x01, Emma states that she and Mary Margaret are the same age. Mary Margaret had just had a birthday, so if we take Emma's statement literally, then Snow would have been 27 when the curse was cast. This is because Henry turned 11 in August and Snow was born during the winter. Emma's October birthday has to have passed since she decided to stay in Storybrooke. Both Emma and Snow are presumably 29 physically by 3x01.
Regina would have been 35 when the curse was cast and Zelena 37. The casting call for young Regina said 'to play age 10' and for Zelena was 'to play age 12'. Given their February and April birthdays, Zelena is 1 year, 9 months and 17 days older than her sister.
I had to add 18 years for Emma's age when giving birth. Then I added 19 years for Henry's age at the Crimson Crow, then an additional 13 years to account for the time it took for Robin to turn 18 and finally, I added 10 years for Lucy's age in Hyperion Heights.
35 + 18 + 19 + 13 + 10 = 95
+ 2 = 97
Regina is 95 in present-day Hyperion Heights and Zelena is 97. But physically Regina is around 67 due to the frozen 28 years.
Where are these people getting their skin creams? I guess the sisters are probably using magic and Alice's Nymph heritage could account for her youth, but there is just no explanation for Ella, or even an 80-100 y/o Rapunzel Tremaine who wasn't a magic user. Heck, even Drizella, who was about 12 when Anastasia fell through the ice would have been 62 before she ever learned how to harness her magic properly. She was turned to stone for 8 years after that, which would have stopped her ageing but still! Is there just something about the Tremaines? Is it something to do with the source of Anastasia and Drizella's magic? It would have to be from Rapunzel's side, given her slow ageing. But Ella is related to them via marriage, so perhaps there's just something about their house.
For me, I just have to believe that Alice was simply not born so closely after Emma. Either that or there was some wild time travel that would make my head explode if I tried to figure that out again. Wish Henry's age could be an indicator of how time works in the Wish Realm. He should have aged up into adult Henry by the time we see him in the finale, given that Emma had given birth after telling an adult Henry about her pregnancy.
And I'm not even accounting for the fact that Zelena implies that time moves faster in the New Enchanted Forest and that Robin would have been younger than 25 had she stayed in Storybrooke. I refuse to make them any older because it's already wild!
As for Rumple, Hook and Baelfire, they have all claimed to be 200-300 years old. We are shown Big Ben in the Land Without magic when Baelfire is about 14 (before Neverland froze his ageing). Big Ben was completed in 1859 (around 152 years before season 1 Storybrooke). We don't know how old Rumple was before he was separated from Baelfire, but it's possible he was around 50 years old and therefore over 200 when he made this claim. It's unlikely Hook stopped ageing due to Neverland in his late 40s (unless he made use of enchanted ye old magical monthly juice cleanses!) and Baelfire was definitely not over 200 at the time of his death. The only explanation is that they rounded up or simply lost count.
Thanks for reading! I hope my calculations are correct. Please let me know if I've made a mistake or if I've missed any canon evidence in regard to this. It's pretty fun to try and work out this timeline but woah, does it hurt my head.
#ouat#once upon a time#emma swan#regina mills#killian jones#alice jones#robin mills#zelena#rumplestiltskin#snow white#david nolan#mary margaret blanchard#prince charming#ouat meta#meta#my meta#timeline#ouat timeline#mine
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
Once Upon a Time S07E02
↳ RFW's Favorite OUAT Whump Moments (✚)
#once upon a time#killian jones#captain hook#wish realm hook#stabbed#fight scene#ouat 7x02#ep: a pirate's life for me#blood#pain#wincing#gore#just to be safe#don't you just hate it when you get in a fight with yourself and end up stabbed?#too much dialogue with such short scenes of the whump#i know these kinda suck#but LOOK at him#colin o'donoghue#favorite ouat moments
162 notes
·
View notes
Text
Love how he said that like it was supposed to mean something to Black Beard.
#ouat#henry mills#ouat s7#once upon a time#wish captain hook#wish killian jones#wish hook#wish realm hook#wish black beard#captain black beard#ouat gifs#my gifs
11 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
sitaarein
it's only a lifetime;
rocknroll7575
RocknRoll7575
alexhuh
alex
boycave
only seeing god when i come
lustsexlove1
Lust Sex Love