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spartanguard · 1 year

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sons of love and death, 3/13 {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: Back again with the next chapter of this year’s @cssns story! Some revelations in this update...hope you like it! (Forever thanks to the best beta, @optomisticgirl!)

rated M | 4.7k words | AO3 | 1 | 2

The man—not-Killian, Emma was calling him until they found out his real name—had fallen silent during the quick drive to the station, not even affected by the siren screaming (both in warning and from disuse). He made no complaints as they ushered him into the other cell—the one that didn't have half-melted bars. He only slumped listlessly to the cot and tilted his head back, eyes closed, in a defeated manner. She almost felt bad for him, to see him so distressed, until she shook her head to remind herself that it wasn’t really Killian.

"So, gonna tell us your name yet?" David asked casually.

The man didn't open his eyes. "Dorian. Dorian Gray."

"Like the picture?" It slipped out of Emma's mouth without thinking, and suddenly two sets of eyes were on her in varying degrees of surprise. "What? I read." (And she’d seen the movie with Ben Barnes because, well, Ben Barnes, but that wasn’t as relevant at present.)

Dorian sighed. "Yes, just like the picture. Although Mr. Wilde’s version of my tale is far from the truth."

"Aren't they all?" David scoffed.

"So what is your story, buddy?” she asked, crossing her arms and stepping closer. “I thought you wished on a painting for eternal youth so you could go on a lifelong bender."

"Parts of that. I can attest to the desire for youth and debauchery; but my reasons were far different, and I had a hand in casting the spell myself."

A chill went down Emma's spine, but she didn't let it show. “Sounds like some pretty dark magic.”

“Well, I learned from the best,” he sneered, with a grin that was far from genuine.

“Who?” she demanded.

“Why, the Dark One, of course.”

“Rumpelstiltskin?” That didn’t seem in-character, but she always seemed to forget the man’s paternal leanings, even if he was kind of her ex-father-in-law.

Dorian shook his head. “Zoso, his predecessor. He raised me.”

“You were adopted?” David asked, probably not as nonchalantly as he’d intended—but it needed to be asked so they could figure out just where this guy came from.

“I certainly didn’t get my good looks from him,” Dorian scoffed.

“So then—”

“Emma!”

She jumped at the sound of Killian’s panicked voice—actually him this time—and his insistent footsteps on the station’s linoleum. She only just turned around before he was slamming into her in a bruising hug.

“Hey, is everything alright?” she asked, trying to make sure he couldn’t see over her shoulder just yet.

“If you're fine, then yes,” he sighed, burying his face in her hair (good). “Gold told me to come here; I was worried.”

She returned the embrace, but knew she only had so long before either Killian or the prisoner noticed the other; probably better to rip off the bandaid.

When she pulled back, he immediately began to study her face, and his brow furrowed a bit. "Swan, what is it?" he said, worried, no doubt seeing her own trepidation.

Before she had a chance to reply, Dorian interrupted. "What the actual fuck?"

Killian’s eyes darted over, then went wide as he studied the man behind the bars. He opened his mouth a couple times to say something, but the only thing that came out was "Bloody hell."

“I got the impression I had a lookalike, not a replica,” Dorian asserted, standing to give Killian a once over. “I must say, though—I wear this face better.”

“Who the hell are you and why are you here?” Killian growled, moving closer to the cell—but staying protectively in front of Emma, she noticed.

“I could ask you just the same, mate,” Dorian countered, slipping his arms through the bars and leaning against them. “Am I your father or something?” he asked, tilting his head in question.

Killian barked out a humorless laugh. “Definitely not, though you’re likely just as much a bastard. And I’m far older than I look, mate,” he bit out, his tone on that last word anything but friendly.

“What a coincidence—so am I.”

Tense silence fell as the nearly indistinguishable men began a staredown, but behind them, Emma found her dad’s eyes; she saw a conclusion settle in his gaze, and she had a feeling she was starting to come to the same one, but she still wanted confirmation—either from Gold, or more modern means.

Speaking of—the former Dark One arrived just then, breezing into the station with far more grace than Emma expected from someone who was definitely reliant on his cane now. “Captain; Mrs. Swan-Jones,” he called as he strode in. “I’ve got some information you’ll find interesting.”

He rounded the corner, Belle right behind him, with the vial from earlier in his grasp—then paused, when he saw all eyes on him, though the two matching blue ones were rather annoyed. “Or perhaps you’ve figured it out on your own,” he said awkwardly.

“Not really,” Emma replied. “What did you find out?”

Gold held up the vial, the strands of hair in it now glowing an unnatural green. “I basically did the magic version of a DNA test, and as you can see, it’s a clear match.” It was a good thing he liked to be the smartest in the room; she never would have guessed that’s what that neon color meant.

“A match?” Killian and Dorian said in unison, then turned and glared at each other again.

“Yes. Captain, this interloper is your twin brother. Identical, obviously.”

Shit. Even though it should have been apparent, Emma was still stunned. She was expecting some (more) alternate timeline shenanigans, or some sort of wormhole clone; not a twin.

“Impossible,” Killian breathed, now staring at his apparent brother in something resembling horror. “I would have known—they would have said—”

“Not necessarily,” David interrupted softly. Emma wanted to reach out to Killian—to soothe him or something—but her dad was definitely the expert in this situation, having been through it himself. (Why was secret twin a common thing in the Enchanted Forest? Or were these the only examples and Emma just happened to find herself adjacent to both of them?)

Dorian spoke up, but he sounded far less cocky than he had at any point yet—restrained, almost. “My birth parents gave me up to the Dark One,” he explained. “But that’s all I was told; nothing else.”

“Not an unheard-of occurrence,” Gold stated plainly, but he was looking at David; at least they were all on the same page with that memory.

“Never mind that,” Dorian went on, shaking his head and straightening his posture. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was trying to stand taller than Killian, but that clearly wasn’t going to work. “What I really want to know is: where are the Dark One powers, and why are you still alive if they’re not here?” He pointed angrily at Gold.

(Emma couldn’t take it any more, and moved to Killian’s side; he’d been visibly withdrawing into himself after what he’d just learned, and the coming conversation was likely to stir some unpleasant memories, too.)

“They’re gone,” Gold said simply, oddly calm when he could have been vague and dramatic. “Something along the lines of divine intervention, I suppose; I traded them to Hades to resolve a debt, and was left a mortal man, same as I was before I took them on.”

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Dorian screamed, grabbing the bars in frustration and shaking them. “Must have been bloody fucking important.”

“I’d say the well-being of my wife and son were worth it.” Emma had only caught the details after the fact—she’d been just a little preoccupied with saving her True Love while they were in the Underworld—but apparently some ancient agreement Gold made regarding his potential second-born child was transferred over to Hades so that asshole god could leverage it into his own deal with the devil. No one thought Gold would actually give up the powers he’d fought so long to hold onto (it was [half] the reason they’d even had to go down there at all, after what he pulled with Killian’s attempted sacrifice), but he’d finally realized he did love Belle (and now Gideon) more than the magic, and made the trade easily.

“So I’ll find Hades, then,” Dorian concluded. “Anyone know how to kill a god?”

“Um, so,” Emma started, “That’s been done already.”

She expected Dorian to lash out again, but his reaction was almost worse—she could see the fire of anger in his eyes and the irritated clench of his jaw. “So my life has been a waste? Is that what you’re all saying?”

“Some things are more important than power and vengeance, mate.” It was almost jarring hearing Killian’s soft voice in contrast to Dorian’s harsh tones. Emma looked up, and he was holding his apparent brother’s gaze steadily. Without breaking it, he reached for Emma’s hand, underlining his statement.

Dorian stared back for a long moment, then turned his attention away, to where Rumple and Belle were in a similar pose. (If she wasn’t mistaken, something wistful settled in his gaze at that.) And then hung his head and slumped back on the cot, effectively ending the conversation. There was still a lot more to be discussed, but not right now; they all needed to process what they’d just learned, especially Killian.

Gold and Belle were the first to leave quietly, then David, after setting the station phone to forward to his.

Emma squeezed Killian’s hand; it looked like his mind had wandered off again, but that brought him back, and she wordlessly led him out of the building.

She let go of his hand long enough to lock the door behind them (and maybe throw up a protection spell to keep their visitor inside, just to be safe), but then took it again and started the familiar walk to the docks.

The conversation ahead was definitely going to require the sea—and probably a decent amount of rum.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Killian felt like he was walking in a dream, but he didn’t know if it was a good or bad one. Ever since Gold had delivered the news, it was like the world around him had blurred in haze.

A brother. He had another brother he’d never known about. And a twin at that.

One who was apparently an utter arse, but he wasn’t as surprised by that fact.

Killian had many questions—why did his (their) parents give him up? Had Liam known?—but anyone who could answer those was long dead. Which would make coming to terms with it entirely up to him.

He and Emma had talked about it, obviously, perched by the sea with his flask between them. Perhaps not terribly in-depth, but he wasn’t sure there was anything more he could say yet.

What was occupying his thoughts the most, though—it could have been him. They very easily could have been in the other’s position. He could have been the one raised by a demon, letting darkness harden his heart, committing gods-only-knew what kind of atrocities—

—But then, he had, hadn’t he? Perhaps he hadn’t wandered all the way down the path his brother had, but he’d gone far enough; just not so far that he couldn’t come back.

And what if his brother had stayed with his family? Would he have led a better life, or made the same choices Killian had? Better yet, what if they’d grown up together? How would that have changed things?

Or would Killian have ruined his life, too, the way he’d done for the younger Liam?

The what-ifs were playing on a loop in his head, spinning like an endless scratched record. (Yes, he knew what a vinyl was; Henry had gifted him a turntable and some albums a few months before leaving the realm. He was sorely tempted to wallow with some Simon & Garfunkel later.) Which was probably why Emma had told him to take a walk, with a specific destination in mind.

It wasn’t a long journey to his in-laws’ farmhouse, but long enough to clear that fog he was wading through a bit. Dusk was settling over Storybrooke as he reached the gravel driveway leading up to the Nolans’ home, where David was already waiting outside.

“I take it Emma called?” he greeted, not needing anything more formal.

“Yeah,” David answered, and handed him an open beer bottle once he was close enough. “And I figured you’d come by at some point anyway.”

“I do believe you’re one of the few people that’s been in my position here.”

“Yup. C’mon; let’s take this out back.”

It certainly wasn’t the first evening they’d spent in the rocking chairs on David’s back porch, drinks in hand, but was easily bound to be one of the more serious. But it still took him until the bottle was half gone to say anything.

“How did you react when you found out about your brother?” he finally asked quietly. It was an obvious question, but he figured it was the logical place to start.

“Forgive me if this sounds rehearsed, but I’ve been mulling over the answer to that pretty much since we left the station,” David started. “It was a lot at first. Mainly, I was shocked that my parents would do that—even was angry with my mother for a bit. But desperate people do desperate things, and that much I can understand.”

“Aye,” he agreed knowingly; that was definitely the prevailing undercurrent in most of their stories.

“And then I started wondering what things would have been like if we’d been raised together, especially when I found out what kind of man James was. Definitely had some nature-versus-nurture discussions with myself—like, how much of him being an asshole was the fact that he was raised by one?”

“Did meeting him help?” He’d only interacted briefly with James in the Underworld, but it was odd seeing a man who looked like his friend but was far from honorable.

David shrugged. “I dunno. It’s not like we had any time for a real heart-to-heart when he was trying to steal my place. It just reinforced how different we ended up being.”

Killian scoffed. “Wish I could say the same here.”

“What do you mean?”

He gave his father-in-law a sidelong glance. “David, please—you know the things I’ve done. I murdered your father, for fuck’s sake. I’ve been trying to look at the differences, but I can’t overlook our similarities. What does it mean that we both found our way into darkness?”

David sighed; bringing up his history in relation to David’s father was still a bit of a sore spot, even though they’d generally moved past it. “Yeah, you’ve done some shitty stuff, and we can assume he has, too,” David agreed. “But you turned it around and came back, and made an effort to right your wrongs. I’m not sure how many times we can remind you of that, man,” he chuckled. Killian gave a half-smile back; it was true that he’d heard it a million times, and gotten better about accepting that in himself, but it was a constant struggle. “So maybe this is the chance to take it a step further: show him that he can be a good man, too.”

“I’m not so sure he wants to,” Killian panned.

“I seem to recall someone else that once applied to,” David countered, then rubbed his temple. “Someone who knocked me out with a crowbar.”

They shared a laugh at what felt like an ancient memory and clinked their bottles together, then settled into a contemplative silence. David wasn’t wrong, but it certainly hadn’t been easy—and he’d needed a reason to want to change. At first, it’d been for Bae’s memory; then, inspired by Emma (and the rest of his found family, in some shape or form). Had it not been for them, he would have followed his path of revenge until it killed him.

So there was nothing to lose, he supposed, to figure out what made Dorian tick and see if there was any connecting with him.

However—he had no idea what might happen if he came up empty.

There was nothing more he could do about it tonight, though, but he and David did spend plenty of time discussing his earlier train of thought, debating the possibilities of lives not lived.

He felt a bit better when he left, and observing the constellations overhead as he walked home was soothing, like always. The day’s revelations still weighed heavy on his soul, but not quite as much.

Sleep would help, he knew, and was glad to see the bedroom light was still on when he arrived at the front gate of his and Emma’s home. She was probably already asleep, and he was looking forward to setting whatever book she’d been reading aside, turning out the light, and tucking in alongside her. He smiled to himself at the prospect as he headed through the front gate and up the porch.

But when he reached for the doorknob, he felt a prick of electricity sparking from his hand up his arm. He’d had plenty of static shocks, especially living in a home as old as theirs, but this was different—stronger.

He pulled back and looked at his palm, and for a moment, thought he saw his veins lit up from within and the air crackling above it. But it went away as fast as it’d come.

He shook his head. It had been a long, emotional day; he must need rest more than he realized. Without further interruption, he opened the front door, locked it behind him, and called it a day.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Across town, Dorian sat bolt upright. He hadn’t been asleep, but was jolted to a higher level of alertness nonetheless.

He felt it—the Dark One’s magic. Just a glint, but it was there.

He’d spent the bulk of the day lamenting his wasted years, but perhaps his quest wasn’t over yet.

His hope renewed, he laid back down and began plotting his next move.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

A couple centuries ago

Decades ago, in a little cottage by the seaside, in the shadow of the Cailleach Mountains, two babies wailed. They were identical in every way, from the dark tufts of hair on their heads, to their bright blue eyes, to the way they cried in pain as fever wracked their little bodies.

Their father wasn’t home; he said he’d gone to see the apothecary, but that was hours ago, and their mum knew he was far more likely to be seeking a different kind of brew at the pub down the street.

They were only a few months old, but her breasts had already dried up and given her no way of soothing her babes with mother’s milk—not that the goat’s milk had really done anything in that regard, either.

At least her older son had already fought off this illness, and slumbered deeply in the wee trundle on the other side of their one-room cottage. She envied him a bit, wearily rocking the two listless babes in the chair by the fire.

It felt somewhat blasphemous, but as much as she was thankful the gods had seen fit to double her blessings with two more sons, she wondered if they’d bestowed their gift on the wrong person. She was barely holding it together now, and unless her husband pulled his act together, she didn’t know how they’d be able to continue; she barely had enough to eat for herself as it was.

“Please, boys,” she pleaded to the little ones, one in each arm. “Please hush. I love you so much but I’m at my wits’ end. Please.”

Gods above, she was truly desperate if she was trying to rationalize with infants. That said—she was more resourceful than most, but was losing hope in her ability to see her family through this and into anything resembling a stable future.

As she sat on the precipice of breakdown, her nerves as frazzled as her wild red hair, a chill breeze came through the house, making the fire flicker and dim. This bloody drafty old home, she cursed at it; of course it would happen when there was nought but twigs in the woodpile. So she pulled the babies closer.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

She jumped at the voice, not just because it clearly belonged to an intruder, but because of the hint of malice on the edge of the words, innocuous as they were. “Who’s there?” she called, sounding far braver than she felt.

“Sorry, ma’am—I didn’t mean to startle you,” the owner of the voice continued, stepping out of the shadows of the kitchen. She couldn’t see his face as it was covered by a thick, dark cloak. “You just seemed awfully desperate there, and I wondered if I could help.”

“Who are you?” She ignored the fact that he seemed to be aware of her mental state, and tried to hold her boys impossibly tighter. “What do you want?”

“I just want to ease your burden.” His words were altruistic but she knew better than to trust them at face value. “Twins; that’s a lot for a woman to handle on her own.”

“I have a husband.”

“Oh, I know. But I also know he’s currently passed out in a gutter. Not much assistance, is he?”

She had no confident answer to that.

The man drew closer. “Such handsome boys; it’s too bad they’re so ill. And medicine is so expensive when they’re that young.”

“Aye, what of it?” she spat.

“Well, I just so happen to have some of it here,” he explained, pulling a corked vial from within his voluminous velvet robes. The hand that held it seemed to glitter unnaturally in the dim firelight, almost like it was covered in scales.

“What do you want for it?” she asked, against her better judgment.

“Ah, I’m afraid the price is steep.”

It wouldn’t be the first time a woman made payment in favors, if that was what he was implying. “I’ll do anything,” she replied submissively.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” the man sneered. “See, I only have one dose here with me. I do have more, so this one is all yours…if you trade it for one of your boys.”

“What?” she gasped. What an unfathomable choice! She couldn’t give up one of her babes—not in a thousand years. “Never.”

“Now, now—think about it,” the man went on. “You’d have one less mouth to feed, one less body to clothe, one less boy to worry about.”

His points were valid, but that didn’t mean they were any less abhorrent. “I won’t do it.”

“Then let me be a bit more blunt: you can have one boy, happy and healthy, or you can bury both of them when that fever claims them.”

“What do you even want with a baby?” she spat, clearly deflecting. Because that statement was definitely convincing, as much as she didn’t want it to be.

“Is a man not allowed to feel paternal stirrings as much as a woman?” he countered. “I’m looking for an apprentice, but few people are often willing to turn their sons over to the Dark One.”

Ah, that explained it; she’d heard of a sorcerer by that name, but nothing good about them. “And you really think I will?”

“I do,” he said confidently. “Because you’re more desperate than anyone else, and you have fewer options.”

She hated that he wasn’t wrong.

“If you take my deal, you still have two healthy sons,” he continued. “Or take a gamble and leave it. It’s up to you.”

He fell silent and unnaturally still, which only seemed to make the infants’ cries all the louder and more pitiful. It was a logical deal he was offering her, but not a sound one emotionally. How could she abandon one of her children? What kind of person did that?

But at the same time, how could she risk letting her children die when she had the opportunity to save them? Even if it meant giving up one of them?

“If…if I take this deal—and I’m not saying I will,” she started, “can you promise me you’ll heal whichever boy you take?”

“Of course,” the Dark One said. “He’s of no use to me dead.”

“Will he have a good life?”

“Yes,” he said solemnly. “He’ll want for nothing, and will be comfortable and educated.”

That was more than she could say for her elder boy.

She blinked, her vision suddenly going blurry with tears. “Alright,” she agreed, though her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Is that a yes?”

“Aye.” She couldn’t look at him as she said it.

“Now wasn’t that easy?”

At that, she did find the gumption to glare at him.

“Here, I’ll make it even simpler; hand me…that one,” he went on, pointing at the boy in her right arm.

“No,” she said quickly. “The other one.”

“If you insist,” he shrugged.

Holding back her tears as best as she was able, she stood and gently set the babe in her left arm down in his cradle. Then she brought the other boy to her chest and placed a kiss against his forehead, praying it would be enough for him to feel her love as he grew, hopefully strong and smart and caring. “I love you, my boy,” she murmured. “Always know that.”

She was losing her fight against her emotions as she handed the baby over to the Dark One, even though she knew this was the best option for everyone; she dare said he’d have a better life than he would here. And she was heartened by the gentle way the sorcerer cradled the boy.

He wasted no time in handing over the vial of medicine. “Thank you,” she managed to say politely.

“No, thank you, my dear.” He seemed unphased by the baby’s continued cries. “And best wishes for your future.”

All she could do was nod.

He turned to leave—though how he planned on going through the locked door, she didn’t know—but then stopped. “Oh, silly me—I forgot to ask his name!”

“Dorian,” she said softly. He’d been named after her husband’s father, for better or for worse.

“Dorian,” he repeated, looking down at the squirming bundle in his arms. “I like that. Well, take care.” And then he disappeared in a cloud of dark smoke.

The fog had hardly cleared before she collapsed on her knees, giving herself a minute to let the grief wash over her before moving on. Not that it was that simple, of course, but what choice did she have anymore? And it’d be easy enough to say the babe had passed; this illness had already claimed others and likely would more.

She just had to hope Brennan would believe her. At least Liam was small enough to not remember.

After a bit, her tears had mostly run their course. She dried her cheeks with her apron, sniffled, and then hurried over to the cradle to deliver the medicine to her baby boy.

He was still crying fiercely and fought her attempts to pour the liquid in his mouth, but she was finally able to once she scooped him back up in her arms. He screamed even harder at first—she doubted it tasted very good—but then settled down, and she could feel the fever subside. For the first time in a few days, he fell into a much-needed, even slumber, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

She laid him against her chest and leaned back in the rocking chair. “Sleep tight, sweet Killian,” Alice murmured and kissed the top of his head. She’d read his name in a book as a child, the name of the hero, and held onto it until she was able to give it to a son of her own. “I promise to stay with you as long as I can, and love and protect you with all my heart.”

One thing was certain—she’d be holding him extra close. And sent up a prayer that she hadn’t just doomed her other son.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading! 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 @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 @bluewildcatfanatic

#cs ff #killian jones ff #cssns 2023 #captain swan supernatural summer #sons of love and death #my ff

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snowbellewells · 2 years

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Self Promo Sunday: “Just As Much As I Do”

Notes: This is another little one shot I originally wrote in the summer after Season 3 of OuaT. Post Season 3 finale, this one is meant to be the very next day, waking up back in the present, the Wicked Witch defeated,and Pirate and Princess maybe - just maybe - stealing a quiet moment or two in the afterglow. Rated T, though the reasons for that are only implied. Title and song lyrics included are from Snow Patrol's "Crack the Shutters", and of course I don't own that lovely song any more than I do OuaT or its characters. Enjoy – and please leave a review!

Also available on AO3 or ff.net, if that’s more your preference

Summary: The morning after the finale, waking up in his room at Granny's, for Killian Jones, it seems like his wildest dreams have come true magnificently.

“Just As Much As I Do”

by: @snowbellewells

Sunlight pours in through sheer white curtains, bathing the small room in golden glow and warming the darkness into hazy morning. As the sun's rays fall across the tangled sheets on the bed and heat the bare skin of a pirate, Killian Jones' eyes ease open, blinking in the sunrise and slowly regaining his bearings.

He rubs a hand over his face and back through his tufted, disheveled hair, confused and disoriented for a moment, not sure how he is once again in his familiar room at Granny's when yesterday he was sitting at a campfire in the Enchanted Forest of his past. Memory filters back to him with the same sort of gilded pleasure as the morning light. 'Emma,' his mind whispers, 'I brought her home.'

Turning from where he sits up in bed, bare to the waist as the sheets pool at his hips, he sees her lying beside him drenched in the wash of gold through the window, that cascade of blond hair lit up as if on fire. She is still fast asleep, splayed out luxuriously on her stomach, pale, flawless back on display for his perusal. As Killian gazes on her, admiration swirling within him, Emma mumbles drowsily and smiles without conscious thought, looking so much more peaceful and satisfied than he believes he has ever seen her while awake. She scoots closer to him, seeking contact in the depths of her slumber.

He reaches out to brush a lock of hair off her shoulder, smoothing it down her back with its fellows and letting his fingertips trail along the graceful path of her spine. That he can touch her at last, after so long – after so much wanting and denial – seems almost a dream. Killian's breath catches for a moment as he wonders whether he is awake at all.

Smiling to himself, he cannot help snuggling back into the mattress, studying every relaxed, glorious inch of Emma Swan while she is still unaware, knowing she would be blushing and trying to hide from such frank adoration, ducking her head self-consciously to avoid his gaze, if she were awake. Somehow he has earned his place beside his golden goddess – and no one or nothing, not even the sun itself gilding her in splendor before his very eyes, can worship her as much as he does.

Crack the shutters, open wide

I wanna bathe you in the light of day

And just watch you as the rays

tangle up around your face and body

I could sit for hours

finding new ways to be awed each minute

'Cause the daylight seems to want you

just as much as I do

The peaceful quiet of morning's first light is broken before he wishes as Emma's cell phone rings from the nightstand of his rented room and stirs her from her slumber. Her hand shoots out blindly to snag the offending object, and she mumbles "Hello?" blearily.

Emma sits up as she listens to the voice on the other end, bringing the sheet to wrap around her body as she does. Killian can tell already that it is someone needing something from either the Sheriff or the Savior, but she doesn't seem to mind the duty settling back onto her shoulders as she has in the past. Instead, she seems pleased, as if she finally knows that this is not a curse or a burden so much as her calling, part of belonging to people and a place of her own at last. She glances at him over her shoulder, a sly smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes; even as she nods and goes back to assuring the person on the line that she will be right there.

Once she has hung up, she glances at him sheepishly. "Back to work," she says with a shrug and that quirk of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

"Aye, Darling, so it would seem," he replies, reaching out to run his fingers through her hair and pull her in for a quick kiss.

To his surprise, she nuzzles into his touch, eyes closing for a few precious moments, savoring the warm expanding feeling rising in her chest. He half expected her to pull away – push him back and shut him out once again – when she woke this morning. It would seem instead that his Swan has bested him one more time, and his devotion to her only grows.

"No rest for the wicked, as they say," she murmurs affectionately, pulling back with reluctance to stand and begin redressing in the clothes they had shed in such haste the night before.

"And just which one of us are you calling wicked, Lass?" he questions, brow arching and grinning at her in a way that he hopes will sorely try her resolve not to crawl back across the bed and let the dwarves deal with their stolen trash bins on their own.

"Oh, I meant both of us," she teases back, mischief in her expression, "but those lips and that hand of yours leave no doubt where you're concerned."

He laughs, taken so by surprise that he tips his head back with it, a full-bodied, strong chortle. "Oi, Swan, what would you have had me do, you vixen? You were practically begging me!"

She actually giggles, looking so happy and completely pleased with herself that he wishes to keep that expression on her face forever. The flush that colors her cheeks and spreads down her neck to disappear in her shirt is so fetching that Killian is hard pressed not to haul her back into his arms and refuse to let her go.

"Shall I accompany you, Swan?" he offers, moving to get up as well and already scanning for where she had flung his shirt and vest.

"No, you stay put," she says with a hungry glint in her eye. "Go downstairs and have breakfast or something. It shouldn't be long before I can get back here."

"Oh," he smirks, looking terribly proud of himself, "I see. Am I under house arrest because you cannot get your fill of me, Sheriff?"

"More or less," she grins evilly.

"Insatiable minx," he returns, tongue peeking out to brush across his lower lip in a way that sends sparks along her veins and graphic images flashing behind her eyes.

"You've got no one but yourself to blame, Pirate," she throws out, giving him one last playful look before she slips out the door. Inside, her heart is swelling while she marvels at the absence of panic, at the fact that she truly wants to stay in the perfect little cocoon the two of them have created, and yearns to be back with him as soon as possible.

It's been minutes, it's been days

It's been all I will remember

Happy lost in your hair

and the cool side of the pillow

Your hills and valleys

are mapped by my intrepid fingers

And in a naked slumber

I dream all this again…

The next morning dawns in much the same way, and Killian's eyes crack open with the sunrise once more; years ever-alert from life on the high sea never failing to pull him into early wakefulness. He is stunned all over again by his good fortune: Emma is with him still. This time, instead of a sprawl, she is curled up into his chest, head tucked under his chin.

Still reverent as he touches her, almost afraid to shatter the illusion, he lets his fingers ghost over the apples of her cheeks, along the line of her nose, and twine themselves in her hair, cradling the back of her head, his handless arm tucking her even more securely into the shelter of his body, stump gently caressing her lower back. Her sleep seems calm and dreamless, which she had confided in him is new and rare, and Killian dares to believe that he has helped to make it possible. Her presence is soothing to him as well, banishing haunted nightmares he never thought to lose. There are no creases of worry marring her forehead, and the tiniest smile rests on her senseless lips, tilting them upwards in a captivating, if unknowing, manner.

Killian places the softest of kisses to her smooth brow, loving her just as he has ever since she stared deep into his soul in the diner when Storybrooke faced oblivion and offered him a second chance – a way to belong to something, to someone…to her. He had seen it then, desired it so ardently that it has fueled every action he has taken since. The intensity of this love, now that Emma recognizes and even welcomes the power she holds over him, and is even trying to give herself to him in return, is overwhelming in its power.

He simply rests here, ignoring the sun's rays spreading across the covers and attempting to rouse him from the most peaceful moment he has ever known. He has traveled a dark, harrowing road to reach this place and moment in time, searched lifetimes for the feeling of completeness in someone who loves him, who will fight for him as fiercely as he fights for her. He can see the warm wash of light over Emma's skin and appreciation for her steals his breath anew. A vision forms of each new day beginning like this one: the pattern of their future together.

Allowing his eyes to drift closed, Killian gladly disregards the dawning day for staying beside his love a little longer. He does not need the sun's help to adore the sight of Emma in his arms; she is branded on the back of his eyelids and in the depths of his soul, every detail of her safeguarded in his heart.

I could sit for hours

finding new ways to be awed each minute

'Cause the daylight seems to want you

just as much as I want you…

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @jonesfandomfanatic @xarandomdreamx @cosette141 @stahlop @sotangledupinit @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @xsajx @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @thislassishooked @drowned-dreamer @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert @caught-in-the-filter @ineffablecolors @let-it-raines

#self promo sunday #cs one shot #post season 3 missing moment ff #just as much as i do #cs fluff #ouat canon divergent

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sqwintersolstice · 8 months

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Title: Lifeline Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53158171 Writer: ErrolsFeather Socials:

Twitter: Netsen7

Word Count: 15k Rating: Explicit Warning(s): Major Character Death Summary: Emma Swan works night at a mental help hot line next to her studies. She enjoys helping the various callers, but one night she get different caller. The person at the other end doesn't say a single word.

Regina Mills is beyond herself with sadness she fell for her dying son. As a last resource she call the mental help line, if only to hear someone talk at the other end.

Please check out the work and don't forget to give some love to the creator — leave a comment, kudos, share it! Nothing makes a creator's day and inspires them more than knowing how much you appreciated it! 💜

#Swan Queen #Emma Swan #Regina Mills #swan queen fanfic #SQ Winter Solstice #SQWS #SQWS 3 Reveals

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virtual-winter · 11 months

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Frozen memories #001

My Frozen story - Part 1

It's the end of October which means it's time for me to reminisce about another year of experiences with the Frozen franchise. What's extra special this time though is of course the upcoming Frozen 10th anniversary as well as an opportunity to share it with more than just a few close friends 🙂

I never saw the original Frozen in theatres. Back then in late 2013, I was relatively fresh out of school, unemployed and didn’t have much time or interest to engage in media fandoms of any kind. Things got better the following year as I attended university, beginning my studies in structural engineering and urban planning. Despite having to travel a lot every day and trying to keep up with my studies, life was relatively simple. You did the same thing every day. I was not the most sociable person but I was making good progress getting to know and working together with my fellow peers. Most of them were fresh from high school while I had been studying a bit before applying for uni so I was a little bit older than most of them.

Being in my early twenties, animation or Disney wasn't exactly anything I was paying attention to. I couldn't remember the last time I watched a Disney movie and I think I was feeling a bit out of touch with fandom culture in general.

Entering October, I happened to notice that ABC's fantasy TV-series Once upon a time was coming back for a fourth season. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary and I had actually never watched the show before (only briefly in an ad and I remember the CGI looked really bad 🤣) but thanks to my local newspaper, I learned that actor Georgina Haig was gonna play a new role in the show. I was very fond of this Aussie gal since her small role as Henrietta in the sci-fi series Fringe 2012-2013 so I was very excited to see what her new character was about.

With hindsight, I know for sure that without Georgina’s involvement, the show would have never caught my attention. And my goodness, did this change my life 😃

Oh, and that newspaper highlight? I rediscovered it a couple of years ago👇

For those of you who (shockingly) can't read Swedish, here's what it said:

Ask about TV Elsa, queen of ice, shows up and it gets cold in Storybrooke.

Will there be new episodes of the fairy tale series? In "Once upon a time" we got to know several fairy tale characters. In the last season, Emma and Hook travelled through time which messed things up for Snow White and the Prince, and Robin Hood and Lady Marion were reunited. When the series is back in Channel 11 on October 20th, a recap episode will be broadcasted at 7PM before the saga continues at 8PM. Queen Elsa of Arendelle (Georgina Haig) shows up.

I obviously had no idea who Queen Elsa of Arendelle was (I barely even knew what story she was from). I was aware that the movie Frozen was a thing and I had seen the teaser with Olaf and Sven around Christmas 2013 but it had left no impression on me whatsoever. I had a vague idea that the song Let it go had become very popular but I didn't understand the fuss behind it. Yet.

October 20th, 2014. My first introduction to the Arendelle sisters👇

It’s hard to describe exactly what my initial reaction to watching the first few episodes was. In general (since I had no experience with the show) I was of course confused about what was going on but the consistency of the Frozen-story definitely helped. Much later on, having seen the entire series, I understood much better how the characters and their story tied into the main plot and especially Emma Swan’s character development. But at the time, it was just cool to take part of some new and (to me) pretty unique fantasy storytelling in a modern setting. For any true Oncers out there, regardless of the quality of the show as a whole, I'm sure you would agree that it was a heck of a fun ride while it lasted!

I knew for sure that I had found something that I truly loved and that was pretty rare for me. Several years back I had been pretty passionate about other franchises like Star Wars, Stargate, Fringe and Hannibal but this modern fairy-tale world was truly something different. And I know a lot of that can be said to be thanks to the Frozen-story. No offence to the main cast, but I would be lying if I didn't credit Georgina, Elizabeth Lail (Anna), Scott Michael Foster (Kristoff) and Elizabeth Mitchell (Ingrid) as the true stars of the fourth season for me! They truly helped bring their characters to life and I still can’t picture anyone else playing them outside of animation (looking at you, Frozen live action-rumours). It should also be said that compared to the rest of the show’s characters, the Frozen characters did have a very strong presence on screen, a look and a feel that was carried over beautifully to the small live-action screen. I may not have known it at the time, but it would be equally true for the original movie.

About four weeks into the season, I knew for sure that I had found something that truly resonated with med and I knew I had to watch the "source material". But that will be a thing to cover in Part 2. 😉

See ya soon!

#Frozen memories #Frozen observations #Frozen #Disney Frozen #Queen Elsa #Princess Anna #Once upon a time #frozen fandom #personal #ouat elsa #ouat anna #arendelle archives #ouat #ouat s4 #Georgina Haig #Elizabeth Lail #frozen 10

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guiltswept · 25 days

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( willa fitzgerald. cis woman. she/her. ) - let me introduce you to a member of the eversley family, imogen eversley is the eldest daughter. they are thirty-two and are known as the magnet to the family because they are effervescent, capricious, and prodigal. when you get to know them, you think about a swan drowned in its own pond and its sprawled, feathered halo floating in the dirtied water; leaning precariously against a balcony banister as a lover takes delight, numb to the ongoings of the party below. but they’re still an eversley, nonetheless. this character is penned by: (james. 25. est. they/them).

content warning for... teenage pregnancy, adoption mentions, and implied domestic abuse ( nondescript ).

profile.

full name — imogen thomasin radcliffe eversley.

nickname(s) — gen, ginny ( family only ).

place of birth — hampshire, england, united kingdom.

date of birth & age — february 24th, 1992. thirty2.

gender / pronouns — cis woman, she/her.

sexuality — bisexual.

occupation — fashion designer; failed. violinist; failed. painter; failed. art connoisseur. socialite. world traveler. philanthropist. winery board member.

astrology — pisces sun / scorpio moon / cancer rising.

labels — the magnet ( others considered: the robin / the thespian / the philanthropist / the fervor / the hedonist / the illustrious ).

residence — eversley estate ( previous residence: radcliffe manor, yorkshire ).

traits — worldly, vindictive, sanctimonious, resplendent, prodigal, wanton, blasé, sumptuous, capricious, grandiose, indulgent, inconsiderate, self - serving, condescending, effervescent

interests — non - profits; and smiling for the cameras. silks, furs, pearls. cashmere. parties; dancing - switching from partner to partner. partaking in a fifteen - step selfcare routine every morning and a twenty - step selfcare routine every evening. red lipstick. cigarettes, cigars; the occasional vape and the occasional joint. the occasional bump. sweet red wines. the summertime the french countryside. idle gossip; innocent flirtation. sharing a bed. hoarding her wealth. club music. the occasional argument. breaking things; particularly glass.

aversions — cheap fabric and fast fashion. american beer. others being privy to her outbursts. losing; admitting defeat. others disagreeing with her. things outside of her control. losing her voice. being an embarrassment; being caught off - guard. sparkling juices ( go big or go home? ). the texture of velvet. the concept of golf. being perceived in a way she wouldn't like to be. grocery shopping. bicycles. when produce is older than a few days ( it's not fresh if it wasn't picked that morning ). poor weather.

most played — a mistake by fiona apple.

notable features — meticulously curled blonde hair, purposefully disheveled with each manicured finger that runs through it; bright green eyes that spark arguments whenever they're referenced as hazel, like - get a grip.

general disposition — a practiced litheness to every movement; a head held high, and sanguinity that nearly feels forced.

character study — daisy buchanan ( the great gatsby ) & marie antoinette ( marie antoinette ) & holly golightly ( breakfast at tiffany's ) & emma woodhouse ( emma ).

background & events.

being the second born means being the second best; and imogen eversley would spend the entirety of her childhood overcompensating for it. if the eldest were anything like their father, then imogen was like their mother. or - she tried to emulate the matriarch, to the very best of her ability. elegance, grace; a certain poise that she couldn't imitate, no matter how hard she tried.

it had always been clear to imogen that she'd never be their parents' favorite; god knows the competition was stiff. she tried anyways; picked up hobby after hobby, only to be met with a natural mediocrity that even the finest tutors couldn't teach out of her. she met each failure with anger, with frustration; with tears and screams, echoed throughout her childhood bedroom, void of comfort. never publicly - never in front of her family. her own private tantrums; all for herself.

however splintered, shattered her own ego may be - imogen always graced the corridors of their home with a practiced smile; practiced grace, practiced elegance, a practiced caricature of ignes. never her own person - just mimicking those she wanted to be.

the only time she felt - herself, truly and wholly, was in her teenaged years - with the son of one of their estates' staff. their secret meetings became the only thing imogen truly looked forward to; the only place where she could be stripped of her façade, where she wasn't an eversley, but just imogen. and then she fell pregnant.

teen pregnancy; the first person she told was her aunt cressida; more alike than imogen would've cared to admit - partial shame in the fact, partial fear that it only affirmed that she'd never be like their mother. aunt cressida brought comfort; brought everything she knew not to expect once her parents found out about her pregnancy.

adoption mention; she was right, of course. as soon as the news was broken to them ( rumors floating the corridors, whispers among the staff, the averted gaze from who she supposed would be her child's paternal grandparent ) - imogen was whisked away. gone for a year, without a single trace. a special abroad program, her parents would tell their friends, their family; her own siblings. the year stretched like a decade; lasted like a second - both forever, and instant. a blur. naturally, she didn't keep the child; its adoption had been set up the moment she left the estate.

imogen returned to eversley estate a year later, and nothing has ever been the same since. a tighter leash, and a gaze in her parents' eyes that only affirmed her worst fears. she was a disappointment; and once that opinion was held - it would never change. she leapt at the chance to go to university far away; an actual abroad program that would take her out from the estate, that would lessen the grip around her throat.

the degree is useless; something art or philosophy related, pretentious, and incredibly imogen. she spends her time in different european cities, writing essays on philosophers she doesn't care about - on art she doesn't understand; drinking into the early hours of the morning, arguing beliefs she doesn't hold while being peppered in drunken kisses from people she's met the same day. when she graduates university - not much changes.

years pass - and imogen's rarely been back to the estate. sometimes for the holidays, but sometimes it's a postcard from whichever island she's decided to spend christmas at. she's been around the globe at least three times; sometimes she stays in a country for months at a time, sometimes days. everything is up to her own whim - and she still chases the euphoric high her first love gave her. technically, henry radcliffe is her twenty eighth love, but numbers are arbitrary.

they marry almost as soon as they meet, their relationship only months in, but his family's of wealth almost equal to her own, and of course it must be fate that they, two wealthy brits, meet in bora bora of all places ( fork found in kitchen ). it's an extravagant wedding, held on the radcliffe property ( maybe it's the hurt in imogen's heart, but she refuses to have it at the vineyard ) and an attraction for both family and friends to gawk at.

implied domestic abuse; the first year is dreamy; or maybe imogen's head is just in the clouds - but it plummets quick. it becomes increasingly apparent that henry is not the man imogen thought he was. that his honeyed words were just that - honeyed. sweet enough to soften... everything. she knows she has to get out - that whatever their marriage became wasn't love, not anymore. she knows - she has to contact charles. she has to contact her father.

and charles eversley handles it. what he does, or rather, who does it for him - imogen doesn't know. all she knows is that henry's on an indefinite work trip, and that she's packing her bags and moving back into her childhood bedroom for the time being. part of her is - surprised at the swiftness. that she'd been helped at all. part of her is waiting for the catch. there's always a catch, isn't there?

introspection & details.

in childhood, imogen was an overbearing, wannabe overachiever who just managed to achieve. she's always felt like a part of hector's shadow, lurking only a few paces behind him. her ego's always been incredibly fragile; and it doesn't take much for her to break.

is prone to fits, or outbursts - or breakdowns; whichever takes fancy. it's when she becomes - so overwhelmed by the stress and weight of - everything, that she just completely shuts down. often resorts to violence - has broken many of her own possessions in her childhood. she's always hidden her outbursts - and has gotten better at managing them. for the most part.

in fact, she hides all of the... unsavory parts of her well. her demeanor is always languid, lithe - relaxed and unconcerned with the estates' happenings. on the inside, she's biting her nails until blood draws.

she loves to host parties; loves to mingle with others, loves the attention - loves to chat, especially when it's meaningless. especially when she can talk about herself. has hosted many charity galas, mostly for that purpose. and for the orphans! always for the orphans!

she's extremely socially unaware; most worldly topics escape her, despite her numerous travels. she can get away with it for the most part. it also doesn't help that she's - patronizing at best, thinking she's above most because of the money she's raised and donated for charity ( even if some of them are just fronts ).

imogen doesn't know how much bananas cost at the grocery store. or most produce for that matter. maybe the most likely out of her siblings to just throw a wad of money at something and assume it's exactly paid for.

unironically downloads and pays for those video skit apps that always have ads on tiktok like "i'm the fated luna to my professor, the alpha king!". unironically enjoys them. is also prone to terrible, terrible romance books. the littler the plot, and the greater the smut - the better. hasn't read nonfiction since university.

many were surprised when imogen first married ( though, naturally she's now - separated? divorced? widowed? ) because of her... habit of acquiring multiple lovers at a time. she's never been a long - term person, not since her first love. even now, back at the estate - imogen may or may not be involved with a few family friends... or staff. they always say old habits die hard.

extremely charismatic when she wants to be; has a deep, inner need to be loved and admired. hates being alone for too long - has a tendency to drink by herself, which either causes havoc or causes her to spiral.

selfish and narcissistic; will always think about herself first ( besides her family... sometimes ) and is a strong believer of selfcare days ( where she does nothing but lounge by the pool ). she's terrified of getting older - of looking old; is terrified of the day where she becomes undesirable, and therefore truly worth nothing.

#eversleyintro #pregnancy tw #abuse tw #˗ˏˋ introduction ⟶ ❛ imogen eversley ❜

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wickedalwayswins-ao3 · 1 year

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Being The Man I Want To Be

As Killian watches Nimue threaten the ones he loves, he realises the mistakes he’s made as the Dark One. - aka a little character study of Killian as he makes his pivotal decision in Swan Song! This fic is for Day One of Ouattober: Favourite Character (Killian Jones)

Killian stood, frozen in place, watching as Emma confronted Nimue.

“No, you’re not taking the people I love!” Emma shouted, moving forward to fight the First Dark One.

Nimue laughed, choking Emma with the mere lifting of a hand as if she was nothing. “I might not be able to kill you, but I can stop you from interfering.”

Emma gagged, fingers uselessly grasping at her throat. She looked at Killian, and he could see the word in her eyes, he could feel how hard it was for her to ask him, after everything she’d put him through. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she did not blink, knowing that she would get through to him because he could read her like an open book, knowing that he’d understand the magnitude of it.

Please.

Something inside him shifted.

His whole life, he’d been a victim to temptation, and every time he thought he’d conquered it, it hit him with another wave, knocking him down again.

First when his brother had died.

Then when Milah was murdered.

Now, after Emma had let the darkness consume him.

When would it stop?

He looked at the scene before him, horrified at just how far he’d let the darkness take him.

What kind of man had temptation made him, time and time again? Who would be left to pick up the pieces this time, once he’d finally got what he wanted?

Was this what he wanted?

His eyes flicked between Emma and Nimue.

Nimue’s manipulation.

Emma’s empty promises.

Please.

“That’s enough!” He roared, holding out the sword, his eyes shining with unshed tears. He had to face up to the consequences of his actions, of what he’d done under the influence of the darkness. Once again, he had to choose between doing what was vengeful or doing what was right. Between being the man he was, or the man he wanted to be.

It was now or never.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Nimue hissed, but Killian wasn’t watching her.

He locked eyes with Emma, and he smiled slightly sadly as her eyes widened with understanding. They both knew what it would take to reverse this now, what it would take for him to finally reject the darkness.

I’m sorry.

He turned back to Nimue, face grim. “I’m being the man I want to be.”

notes - I hope you enjoyed this little drabble! this is my first time posting a fic on tumblr so please let me know if I did something wrong! :D

#ouattober2023 #ouattober 2023 #once upon a time #killian jones

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stedefxckingbonnet · 11 months

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requests info/intro!

hi, everyone!

i thought i'd take a quick second to introduce myself and to also formally open up requests. i'm already working on a few things, but requests really do always help and feel free to submit them at any point--but, we'll get to all of that in a moment!

my name is lavinia, and i am a uni student studying both theatre (dramaturgy specifically) and creative writing! i love to sing, act, write (obviously haha), read (i am a huge fan of classic literature, as well as donna tartt, mona awad, sally rooney, elif bautman, and ottessa moshfegh's works), go to concerts, go to the movies, style/design clothing, paint, collect records/cds, and so much more! this barely scratches the surface really but, if any of you share these interests, always feel free to reach out!

anyhow, as i said, i will officially be opening requests, and at the moment here is the media and the characters i will write for:

Our Flag Means Death

Izzy Hands (my BELOVED)

Ed Teach

Stede Bonnet

Lucius Spriggs

Jim Jimenez

Oluwande

Mary Bonnet

(more available upon request! these were just sort of my first instincts.)

Gilmore Girls

honestly, i'm pretty open to anything unless it's dean. just request and i'll see what i can do!

Gossip Girl

Blair Waldorf

Serena Van der Woodsen

Dan Humphrey

Nate Archibald

Chuck Bass (like sometimes)

Rufus Humphrey

more available upon request.

The Fosters/The Good Trouble

Callie Adams Foster

Mariana Adams Foster

Brandon Foster

Jamie Hunter

Gael Martinez

Dennis Cooper

Malika Williams

more available upon request.

Select Wes Anderson and Tim Burton characters. just ask!

Enola Holmes

Tewkesbury

Sherlock Holmes

Little Women (2019)

Jo March

Amy March

Beth March

Meg March

Laurie

Friedrich Bhaer

Star Wars

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Anakin Skywalker

Padmé Amidala

Luke Skywalker

Han Solo

Leia Organa

Kylo Ren

Finn

Poe Dameron

Ahsoka Tano

more available upon request!

Pride & Prejudice (2005)

Basically me just saying I'll write Mr. Darcy. but more characters available upon request, of course.

Community

Abed Nadir

Troy Barnes

Annie Edison

Jeff and Britta I'm a little iffy on but with the right request, maybe. don't hesitate to ask!

The OC

Seth Cohen

Ryan Atwood

Summer Roberts

Marissa Cooper

The Umbrella Academy

Klaus

Viktor

Ben

Five

Diego

Allison

Luther is like, not preferred for me but if you feel strongly about him and have a good request, i’ll consider it but don’t get your hopes up too high!

Once Upon a Time

Emma Swan

Regina Mills

Killian Jones

Neal Cassidy

August Booth

Jefferson (The Mad Hatter)

Mulan

Ruby Lucas (Red Riding Hood)

Belle French

Mary Margaret Blanchard (Snow White)

David Nolan (Prince Charming)

Peter Pan

Robin Hood

Any others, feel free to ask! I know I left Mr. Gold (Rumple) off, but that's only because it depends with each request. Also, please specify if you want it to take place in Storybrooke pre or post curse, or in The Enchanted Forest.

Merlin

Arthur

Gwen

Morgana

Nimueh

Lancelot

any others, feel free to ask. i am just starting S2, keep that in mind.

The Holdovers

Angus Tully

Dead Poets Society

Todd Anderson

Neil Perry

Knox Overstreet

Charlie Dalton

Steven Meeks

Love Lies Bleeding

Lou Langston

Jackie Cleaver

i'll just start there for now, as honestly it's been a bit since i've written an x reader and i don't want to overwhelm myself much! but please, feel free to request at any time! I will update this frequently, as I am always either getting into new things or remembering things I already love. I am mostly dedicated to OFMD right now, but you may also leave requests for other fandoms and I will keep them on file, or who knows, perhaps even get to them sooner than you may imagine! Have a wonderful day (or night!), and don't forget to request!

yours truly,

lavinia

me filing through all of your requests (hopefully!)

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jackiestarsister · 6 months

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"A Time for Everything" new chapter: "Acceptance"

Between Episodes 4x03 and 4x04, Emma talks to her family about her love life. Graham's death is acknowledged, David's conversation with "Prince Charles" is remembered, and Henry faces the reality of his mother dating Captain Hook. Ultimately, Emma accepts her feelings, and her family accepts her relationship with Hook.

Read on FFN

Read on AO3

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kazoosandfannypacks · 1 year

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"Wishing it Wasn't" by kazoosandfannypacks

Chapter 8/18: A One Time Thing Pairing: CaptainSwan Rating: General Word Count: (1.2K/19.5K) Summary: Season 2 Canon Divergence: When Neal tells Emma he has a fiancée, she claims to have a new boyfriend of her own, and blurts out the first fairytale name she can think of: Captain Hook. Killian agrees to this ruse, but when feelings grow between the two, will the con be more than they can handle? Chapter Summary: In an attempt to further make Neal jealous, Emma kisses Killian, only to find that she actually enjoys it. Tags: season 2, canon divergence, gun violence in later chapters, angst with a happy ending, fake dating, mild character death, mildly anti neal Author's notes: hehehehehe *happy fluff writer noises* >:} Taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @pirateprincessofpizza @pawshapedheart [if you'd like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

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As Killian closed Emma's car door for her, he sighed a little. She'd drive him back to The Jolly Roger, and then this adventure with her would be over- and with no one watching their fake little love story, it would probably end without so much as a good night kiss. He got into the car, intent on enjoying these next few moments he did have with Emma.

"A little help, love?" He held out his seat belt buckle to her- not because he needed her help, but because he wanted her fingers to brush against his as she took it from him.

"I suppose." He could hear the sarcasm in her voice as she said it.

She leaned over and buckled him in. He studied her face carefully as she did, and then she looked up at him, her eyes meeting his in the dim lighting, and for some reason not darting away.

He thought he saw something in her eyes, some kind of feeling, like when she looked at him, she didn't just see a pirate- like she saw the man behind it all. It was like she didn't just see Captain Hook, like maybe as well she saw Killian Jones- and no one had seen him as Killian Jones for centuries.

He was sure she'd break off the eye contact any moment now, that she'd realize her eyes were a window to her soul and board them back up with the rest of her walls to keep him from peeking in.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neal and Tamara leaving the restaurant, walking past them.

"How stupid could he have been to lose someone like Swan?" Killian thought. As he looked in her eyes, he almost felt like he'd do anything to keep those eyes in his life- no. That was a ridiculous thought. She would never stoop low enough to stick with a guy like him.

"They're looking at us, Swan." He whispered.

"Yeah." She said, "Wanna give them something to look at?"

"What?"

She leaned forward a little.

"So that we don't blow our cover," Emma whispered, "promise not to make a big deal about it if I kiss you?"

He clung desperately to his wits.

"It's just for the cover." He thought. "It's just fake, Jones! She doesn't actually like you; keep your head."

"As long as you don't make a big deal about it either." He raised an eyebrow.

He took one last look at her as she closed her eyes and leaned forward. He did the same, and her lips gently crashed into his, like waves against the bow of The Jolly Roger, like the clash of two swords sparring, like treasure clinking against itself in a pouch, a beautiful explosion, a signal flare, an omen that he had to remind himself not to enjoy too much.

---

When Emma finally pulled back from his lips, it wasn't because she didn't enjoy his kiss, but because she was surprised and upset with herself for enjoying it.

She glanced over at where Neal and Tamara had been standing- they were long gone.

Killian opened his eyes, and they fixed themselves on hers.

"Is everything alright, love?" He asked.

Before he could notice they weren't still being watched, she stole another kiss from him, this time not because anyone was watching, but simply because she wanted to, acting out of impulse for once, while she still could without him thinking it was born out of affection for him- because obviously she didn't have feelings for him- how could she?

How could she let her guard down for another man? How could she fall for those sky blue eyes and that accent that she couldn't get out of her head? How could she fall for a man so passionate and loyal that he'd spent three hundred years avenging the woman he loved?

How could she not?

She was disappointed when he pulled away from her and his view shifted out the front windshield.

"I'm sure they're not watching anymore." He whispered.

"Right." She nodded and turned back to the steering wheel, then started the car, noticing out of the corner of her eye that he wasn't looking at her at all, eyes fixed instead at the scenery slowly blurring past them.

---

Killian's thoughts raced faster than the yellow car, faster than The Jolly Roger with the wind in her favor, faster than the beating of his heart and the thumping of his mind.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy Swan's kiss- if he had enjoyed it even just a little less, he would've continued.

But no, his shock was that he did enjoy it, that he really enjoyed it, that for that moment as his lips anchored themselves to hers, he felt lighter, felt freer, forgot in that moment about the Crocodile and what he'd taken from him. Her kiss made him forget, even just for a moment, forget all about his quest for revenge. Her kiss gave him instead something he almost remembered having once, some kind of hope.

That's why he pulled away from her, that hope- because he knew it was false hope, a one sided hope.

"That kiss meant nothing to her." He thought, watching the world pass by. "Why should it? She doesn't want a pirate. She still cares about Baelfire- about Neal- because if she didn't, why would she go to such extreme measures just to make him jealous?"

He didn't turn back to look at her, knowing that every moment he spent with her on his mind would only twist hope's accursed dagger in his heart.

His thoughts and the silence were interrupted by the "radio," which Emma clicked back to the "oldies" station.

"Girl, you just don't realize what you do to me."

Killian had never heard another song like it, one whose tune and words said everything on his mind.

"When you hold me, in your arms so tight, you let me know everything's alright."

Neither of them spoke or sung a word, but by the next line, Killian thought he heard her humming along.

"I'm, hooked on a feeling, high on believing, that you're in love with me."

"Swan," he thought, trying his best to fight off his passions. "For the love of everything, if you don't stop humming along with this song..."

Sure, he'd taken a bit of a fancy to Swan when he first laid eyes on her, but in the last three hours, he'd somehow fallen harder for her, fallen head over heels for her, and he couldn't shake that voice in the back of his mind, that voice that told him to beg Swan to stop the car somewhere, somewhere he could kiss her again, hold her in his arms this time, not break it off until he was good and ready.

"Lips as sweet as candy, taste is on my mind. Girl, you got me thirsting for another cup of wine."

If that wasn't a summary of Killian's thoughts right now, he didn't know what was.

But still, he looked out the car window, watching the scenery roll by in silence, not even trying to make eye contact in the mirror, knowing that if he succumbed to hope for even a moment, it'd swallow him whole, pull him under, drown him out in bittersweet bliss.

"Got a bug from you girl, but I don't need no cure. I'll just stay a victim, if I can for sure."

Killian didn't know what the odds of ever being in a car again were after today, but he knew no ride of his life would ever be more painful than this one.

#once upon a time fanficton #cs fanfic #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #once upon a time #ouat #season 2 #canon divergence #kazzy writes

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aletheapierce · 9 months

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{ NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO, 21, GENDER NONCONFORMING, SHE/THEY } Is that ALETHEA PIERCE? A SENIOR originally from SAVANNAH, GA, they decided to come to Ogden College to study DANCE. They’re THE DRAG-ALONG on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance.

no one ever really likes me for more than just a couple weeks...

NAME: alethea ivy pierce NICKNAMES: none, thea to a select few BIRTHDAY: february 23, 2002 ZODIAC: pisces sun, scorpio rising, aquarius moon SEXUALITY: bisexual RELIGION: ceo methodist (christmas & easter only) THREE POSITIVE TRAITS: idealistic, hospitable, wholesome THREE NEGATIVE TRAITS: paranoid, indecisive, timid THREE SKILLS: fluent in french, calligraphy, detailed-oriented ENNEAGRAM: 9w1 MYERS-BRIGGS: intj EXTRACURRICULARS: ballet company, tri-del (member)

AESTHETIC: pink painted nails, tucking hair behind your ears, off-distant stares, shy smiles, hollowed looks, books in tote bags, quiet giggles, leaning in when intrigued, earbuds, furiously scribbling in journals, waking up with tears, monsters chasing you in dreams, warm tea and milk, a cookie crumbling in your hand, barefoot on hardwood floors, watching the sunset alone

CHARACTER INSPO: nina sayers (black swan), georgiana darcy (pride & prejudice), jaz sinclair (caos), betty cooper (riverdale). myrtha (giselle), daisy buchanan (the great gatsby), juliet capulet (romeo & juliet), lady edith crawley (downton abbey), betty elms (muholland drive), andy bernard (the office), harriet smith (emma)

LIKES: ballet, taylor swift, dresses, gin and tonics, daydreaming, sparkles, quietly reading, the wind through her hair DISLIKES: stares, having to answer questions, being alone, being in crowds, people yelling, being judged

FAVORITE MOVIES/TV: the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, shrek, black swan, the secret life of walter mitty, gilmore girls, dance academy, big fish, all the boys love many lane, fleabag FAVORITE BOOKS: six of crows, the invisible life of addie larue, on earth we’re briefly gorgeous, pride and prejudice, the uglies series FAVORITE ARTISTS: halsey, taylor swift, lizzy mcalpine, nicholas britell, hans zimmer, chelsea cutler, phoebe bridgers FAVORITE BALLETS: giselle, firebird, la sylphide, carmen

FAMILY: mother - jennifer tiner pierce (katheryn winnick) father - carl sile pierce (daniel wu) younger brother - hu jacob pierce (kazuma mitchell)

pinterest here, playlist here.

WHEN ALL THE BRIDGES HAVE BEEN BURNED:

jennifer pierce expected the best of her children. she gave them the best so of course they had to return the favor. she had inherited her father’s business, and was excelling so much her husband took her last name. it wasn’t a feminist thing, but a money thing you see. alethea grew up without a want, but the truth of the matter is she never knew what she wanted. her mother made those decisions. from what she wore, to how she cut her hair, to who her friends were and what activities did. her entire life was planned to a t, and alethea never questioned a moment of it. how do you question something that you didn’t know was an option?

her brother jacob was doted on, and grew up with a grin and popularity. this was easy to him. this was painful for alethea. she smiled and waved, and the only matters of relief she found were in her ballet classes. going professional hadn’t been her mother’s first plan, but seeing the natural talent her daughter was, and just how feminine she was, allowed this small change in the over all path forward.

jennifer and carl met at ogden, and she knew that was where her children were to go. there was no exception, and jennifer would do whatever needed for her kids to follow her legacy. the major was flexible, but they would go to ogden, they would find suitable spouses, and they would carry on the family legacy. it was picture perfect, and she never heard a single word of complaint from either of her children.

AND ALL THE TABLES HAVE BEEN TURNED BY ME:

growing up without decisions meant college was terrifying for alethea. she had to pick her classes, find friends that her mother couldn’t approve of, and suddenly had free time that wasn’t planned out for her? it was paralyzing. but during the second week of classes greer spotted alethea across the way and took her under her wing. she showed her what the world could be, and she still fit under that approval from jennifer pierce. greer wasn’t just her best friend, but she was a bit of a savior for her.

this whole time there has been a gnawing in her chest. a desire for freedom, a petition to let the real alethea out and run free. but who was she? alethea couldn’t answer that, not honestly. just who her mother had manufactured her to be. but this confusion, this shyness, this quietness played into a different picture of alethea. it allowed her to be whatever anyone wanted her to be, they could paint their own ideas of her. she could be mysterious, she could be all they ever wanted. and she could be a dream.

and it was through this exploration that alethea slowly stepped out of the pillars her mother had built for her. first came the time greer dared her to kiss another girl during spin the bottle, and alethea realized that she might have enjoyed it more than her mother would have liked. and then came the time greer put her in a suit instead of a dress, and she liked the way it looked on her. and that maybe she wasn’t a girl after all, but something that could be shed. and so they started to pick up new pieces of theirself, putting them together to form a whole new journey. was ballet even the career they wanted? did they even like ogden? who were these people that had been decided as their friends? the questions became overwhelming.

WHO WILL BE LEFT TO LEAVE? JUST ME:

and now greer is gone. and it’s noticeable the change in alethea. it began before her disappearance of course, but could it somehow be correlated? alethea willingly goes out, sometimes alone, now. they are keeping greers friends, they are speaking up and out, they have a bite to them that hadn’t existed once upon a time. what does the future hold of alethea? are they becoming who they really are, or are they once again pretending, shedding the quiet role they had lived into for all their life for one that looks a little more like their now missing friend…

GREER:

during freshman year at ogden, alethea was absolutely lost and in-over her head. she had never been the rebellious type, her parents had been too strict to allow non-sense in their house, and so alethea was overwhelmed with the freedom college could allow, and she had no idea how to deal with it. her mother had always taught her to seek out the ‘right’ people to befriend, and it was just her luck that greer extended her own friendship to alethea. she brought them to the parties, encouraged her to flirt with whomever was necessary in order to go after who she wanted, and overall guided alethea through college. they doesn’t know if she would have been able to survive any of it without greer. there was little jealousy on alethea’s side at the beginning - she was just grateful for what greer could offer her through her friendship. and alethea was not a threat to greer. but as they’ve grown older there has been a tension living in the friendship, the reliance upon each other that might not be as necessary anymore. alethea was not anymore outgoing or less shy, but now her shyness was being interpreted as mystery, making them a bit more intriguing to others and perhaps sparking some jealousy on greer’s side.

THE DRAG-ALONG:

you know that girl that was always a few steps behind greer and the fallen princess? the one with wide eyes and a quiet demeanor? they never seemed to talk much, but even in their silence never seemed to be entirely so observant that you had to watch what you were saying. really, she just seemed like a little pet to the best friends, a third they allowed to follow them around.

and that person? that was alethea, taken under greer’s wing during the first weeks of school freshman year but never brought too close. it was the kind of relationship where alethea was sure to call greer one of her best friends, and greer might hesitate, only referring to them as a simple friend. but wherever the fallen princess and greer were, alethea was there. fingers picking at each other, posture both immaculate and slouched. each semester they seemed to get a bit bolder, inching their way up next to the other two, but still never find herself as an equal.

extra:

previous tasks found here

they have their septum pierced that they flip up whenever they go home and hide from their mother

her room is usually incredibly clean

often found walking around campus as if they are in their own world

junior year recap:

g told alethea to start a fight at greer's birthday party so she picked a fight with heni who pushed her in the pool

found polaroids with monty in their chalet during the winter ski retreat black-out

told heni about the polaroids (it was their chalet after all)

thought they saw greer in the hall of mirrors during the spring carnival

g set them up with lola in the library before the rave, did a poor job looking for g when tempted

suffered from smoke inhalation during the fire in the commons trying to escape out of the back

went mia for a bit over the summer

#honest to god have no idea what alethea did this year #ogdenintro

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inkofamethyst · 1 year

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April 16, 2023

I can be described as a bit of a control freak. In the way that I like to have control over every bit of my life as humanly possible. I feel most stressed when I feel that I lack considerable amounts of control. I wonder what my personal intersection of control and insecurity is? Those two must derive from some specific fears, some specific formative moments.

Jennifer Morrison’s character in House is so different from Emma Swan in Once Upon A Time. Emma Swan had that toughness, that red leather jacket. Dr Carmody comes off as so much more bright-eyed (and she wears vests lol). Actors man. The thing is though, I straight-up dislike boss-subordinate romance thing in most cases, this one being no exception. Idk, it’s just weird to me.

Also as entertaining as it is to watch a doctor with no bedside manner who ends up being correct about everything and saving the day in the end, I would hate to have him as a doctor or mentor tbh. I am way too sensitive to go through that kind of nonsense. But it is interesting--something I learned in a writing workshop is that people will follow a character (I’d even stretch to say this applies to celebrities who almost seem like characters with the way “we” fictionalize them) who is good at what they do even if they are unlikeable. Don’t remember the reason though.

I got my grade back for stats and did significantly better than the first midterm which is wild because the content was a lot more difficult and I studied significantly less :/ I’m (obviously) not upset about the grade, I am learning things (and enjoying it a lot! I’m actually looking forward to graduate level stats), I just think it’s funny. Continues to validate my bad habits, though.

I once again feel compelled to complain about my status as an emotional booty call with my saxophone-... friend. Literally the relationships/friendships that I dislike the most have to be the ones where the other person only calls/texts me when they’re sad or upset. It’s not even that I don’t want to be there when my friends feel down. It’s not even that I expect “50-50″ in a friendship at all times. I fully recognize that friends will need more support through difficult times and that a person’s life has high and low points for varying lengths of time. But friends are there for each other. If someone doesn’t reciprocate an interest in my life, I check out. I lose interest when they only reach out to me to complain about their own lives and almost never when they just want to hang out, no story attached. And I feel bad for passively accepting the role of an emotional booty call wen I have minimized my investment in the person, but I also don’t put any effort to continue the relationship, so that person fully has an out if they ever decide that me not ever texting them first isn’t something they can put up with in a friend. But until then, I open my ears, reassure them that their feelings are valid, smiling the whole way through, then come here to huff and haw.

Anyway. I’ve gotta get back to “writing” (more like formatting (and finishing!!)) what is essentially an undergraduate thesis but due to the circumstances of my research it cannot be officially deemed to be such a thing. Good thing is, it’s a relatively simple project. Another good thing, after the two presentations I’ve got coming up for it in a week and a half, I should be completely done with it. Thankful for that. Lowkey wish I didn’t have to travel again this week. I feel extremely thankful for the opportunity, but I’m also incredibly exhausted. Much more than I thought I’d be toward the end of my “easy” last semester.

Today I’m thankful... that there’s only a month left. Less than a month, really.

Goal of being in bed by 2 am.

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hookedonapirate · 2 years

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Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cabin on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: I can't believe it's been a year and a half since I last updated. For that I am sorry, and I thank you for sticking with me! And a huge thank you, @ultraluckycatndcatnd for beta reading!

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Previously on Beyond a Reasonable Doubt: Emma performs Killian's surgery to save his life after he was brutally attacked. She goes to David about Neal about the cards and roses he's been leaving her and asks Elsa if she can stay with her because she doesn't feel safe alone.

Catch up: Pro I Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3 I Ch 4 I Ch 5 I Ch 6 I Ch 7 I Ch 8 I Ch 9 I Ch 10

Also available on: AO3 I FF.N

Chapter 11

As soon as Emma steps through the door, Elsa pulls her into a hug, squeezing her tight. “Thank you again, Em.”

“Of course.” Emma’s not used to people hugging her, but she figures this is a good excuse. Elsa could’ve lost her brother-in-law. Emma’s sure this day has brought back painful memories of when Elsa was visited by David to tell her the tragic news about her husband. He again brought her devastating news, though thankfully with a different end result.

And Killian was attacked by the same man who killed Liam. She’s not sure Elsa knows that yet.

Pulling away, Elsa places her hands on Emma’s shoulders, studying her scrupulously. “How are you doing?”

“Honestly? Not great,” she admits, her voice shaking. Tears form in her eyes again and threaten to fall for the millionth time that day. Truthfully, she should’ve taken the day off. She was a complete mess on the inside, and she so badly needed to take some time to cry out her frustrations and emotional distress after almost losing Killian. Hell, she never should’ve performed his surgery. There’s a reason doctors don’t perform surgeries on their loved ones. There’s just too much emotional attachment there to view them as just another patient. But there wasn't time to get another doctor. She did what had to be done in that moment.

“You really care about him, don’t you?” Elsa doesn’t have to say his name for Emma to know who she’s talking about. She knew sending that photo of Killian sleeping on her couch gave herself away.

Emma doesn’t have the energy or capability to deny it. “I do.”

Elsa nods in understanding, a small smile tilting her lips. “I can tell.”

Emma doesn’t want to talk about that, though. Thinking about her feelings for Killian only makes her sadder and angrier. She also doesn’t want to tell Elsa what Killian did. How he lied to Emma for the investigation. She wants all that anger Elsa would possibly feel—the anger Emma had felt after uncovering the truth—directed toward the man responsible for all of this. “Did David tell you who stabbed him?”

Elsa nods regrettably, her face clouding over with sadness as she looks down at the floor. “Cassidy.”

Emma places a gentle hand on Elsa’s arm. “How are you holding up?”

“Honestly? Not well either.” She lifts her head, anger pooling in her glistening eyes, her jaw hard as she curls her hand into a fist. “I want to find Cassidy and murder him myself. He killed my husband and tried to put an end to my brother-in-law’s life. Being behind bars will not be a cruel enough punishment.”

Guilt and regret pulse through Emma as she scoops her cousin into her arms for another hug. Elsa has no idea Emma fought for Neal’s acquittal. She has no idea her cousin is the reason why Neal is still alive. And that fucking eats Emma alive. But if she knew, Emma’s sure Elsa would never speak to her again.

~*~

Emma goes into work very early in the morning, unable to get more than a few hours of sleep. With Killian nearly dying, Gold still on the loose and the guilt from being the reason for it all weighing heavy on her shoulders, she knew it would be impossible. The only reason she was able to get a few hours was because of how exhausted and emotionally drained she was.

Killian is sleeping when she enters his ICU room to check on him. Her heart aches once more when she sees his battered face.

His breathing is normal but his lips are dry and cracked, a typical adverse reaction to surgery and fluid loss. She leaves only to search the nurse’s station for some medicated lip balm and returns with a small tin of it, sitting at his bedside.

Removing the cap, she makes tiny circles into the ointment to coat the pad of her finger. She spreads the ointment across his upper lip from one corner to the other and back again before moving to the lower lip, his breaths warm and even on her hand. She inhales sharply, remembering how soft his lips were just the other night after their date. This is hardly the time to recall the hot and heavy kiss they’d shared, but she had cataloged the taste of his mouth, the pleasant drag of his scruff across her skin and the softness of his tongue into her memory.

She has no idea what she would’ve done if she had lost him. Sure, she is still a bit angry at him for lying to her, but somehow, the threat of death had made her realize how much she had already cared for him in such a short period of time.

A few moments pass before she realizes she’s still touching his lips, following every contour over and over again, even though his lips are thoroughly moisturized.

She traces the seam just as he peels his good eye open, his intense blue gaze penetrating her soul, rendering her frozen and useless, her finger pausing. She sucks in a breath as she realizes his breathing becomes irregular, as opposed to how even it was before while he was asleep.

Groping for her, he gently grabs her wrist as if to keep her hand in place while he puckers his lips against the pad of her finger. Butterflies form in her stomach, and she wants to replace her finger with her lips, but before she can move, he’s already closing his left eye and drifting off to sleep again.

She releases the breath she’d been holding and slowly, regrettably, removes her hand from his.

~*~

“You know, I could kick your ass for almost dying on me.”

Killian tries to laugh but it hurts too much. It’s been five days since he was stabbed and he may be out of the ICU and he may be making progress, but he’s still not one hundred percent. “Nice to see you, too.”

David comes over to Killian’s bedside and grips his shoulder with one hand, his other one holding a sack. “I was going to say the same but damn, you look like shit,” he teases with a grin.

Killian closes his good eye. “According to the hospital staff that’s not possible,” he gloats, purposely leaving out Emma’s name, even though she was the only one who said those words, to his face at least.

David sets down the bag on the bedside table. “I figured you wouldn’t want to go back to your motel room after you’re released from here, so I checked you out. After the CSU team was done with it, I grabbed your things. There’s a change of clothes and toiletries, and Mary Margaret got you some pajamas since you don’t seem to own a pair.”

That’s because he doesn’t sleep in pajamas. But he refrains from saying so. He’ll wear them though. It will be far better than wearing a hospital gown. “What about my truck?”

“It’s in my driveway.”

“Keys?”

“In the bag, along with your wallet and phone.”

“Thanks, mate. You’re right, I don’t wish to step foot in that room ever again.” He still can’t get the horrifying image out of his head of that woman with a bullet in her forehead. To think, that bastard was on the other side of the bathroom door while he was in the shower. If Killian had known, he would not have failed at taking down Cassidy like Cassidy had failed at taking down Killian. Putting him in the hospital was not Cassidy’s plan. “And thanks for finding me when you did. I was told if I was found any later, I’d be dead.”

David plops down in the chair, inhaling a long breath, his expression growing serious. “I went to your motel room that night to apologize. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you.”

“Let me guess, the wife told you to say that?”

David pouts. “No. She doesn’t always tell me what to do.”

“Well, I admit, I was being a stubborn arse, wanting to do things my own way.”

“I won’t disagree with that,” David chuckles. “But as Mary Margaret says, your stubbornness is what kept you alive. How are your balls by the way? You kept whining about them like a baby when you were in ICU.”

Killian scowls at him. He was heavily medicated when he was in ICU, so he doesn’t remember much other than having an ice pack on his junk, but he does remember Emma applying lip balm to his lips the other night. He remembers the look they’d exchanged and he remembers her finger lingering on his lips. He also remembers her sitting with him and giving him sips of Sprite. She had been gentle and loving and he enjoyed seeing that side of her. “Just dandy. Wanna see?”

David holds up his hand and shakes his head. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Hey there, handsome. How are you feeling today?” Emma flashes Killian a smile as she enters his room.

Her smile immediately disappears when she rounds the corner of the small corridor and sees David sitting in the chair. The walls he had witnessed when he first met her go up so fast, it makes Killian’s head spin.

“Detective Nolan,” she says cordially.

David stands up to greet her. “Dr. Swan. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Just checking on my patient. You know, that’s what doctors do.” As she answers him, she does routine checks, pressing her stethoscope on Killian’s chest, quite aggressively, might he add. “How about you? Still interrogating innocent civilians?”

“It’s nothing personal. I was only doing my job. I’m sure you can appreciate not mixing business with pleasure.” He watches as she pushes aside Killian’s gown to examine his incision. “Unless you’re as personal with all of your patients as you are with Killian?”

Killian didn’t know how much venom one look could carry until now. He gets chills, and he’s not even the recipient of that look.

Emma puts his gown back in place, still scowling at David. “He’s my cousin’s brother-in-law. He’s family.”

Killian’s heart sags a little, even though he’s fully aware it’s more than that between them.

David crosses his arms, obviously not buying it. “Just like you passionately fighting for Cassidy’s acquittal, swaying the other jurors to change their minds and making sure he was freed from execution wasn’t personal either, right? Even though Liam was also family?”

Emma’s teeth are clenched, her jaw hard as she inhales a deep breath through her nose. She goes over, stepping a few inches in front of him. “Detective Nolan, I do not have to explain myself any further to—”

Something falls on the floor behind them, drawing their attention. “You fought for his acquittal?” Elsa’s voice is very faint but loud enough to catch the attention of everyone in the room. She stands there frozen with a big Ziplock bag full of cookies at her feet.

Emma’s face is white as a ghost as she gapes at her cousin. She obviously doesn’t know about the trial. “Elsa, I didn’t know he was Cassidy.”

“It’s true,” Killian chips in. “His real name is Neal Gold.”

“I don’t give a damn what his real name is. He’s done terrible things.” Her eyes dart to Emma, her brows furrowing. “He murders people for a living, and you fought for his acquittal?”

Emma rushes over to her, and Elsa takes a step back from her cousin. She picks up the bag of cookies and hands it to her. “There wasn’t enough evidence to prove he was guilty.”

“But David just said you changed the jurors’ minds. You didn’t just vote for his acquittal, you made sure he was freed.” She looks at David. “How long have you known my cousin was on the jury of this trial?”

His face clouds over with guilt, giving away his answer without words.

“And you didn’t think to mention it?”

“Elsa, I didn’t see the reason to put a wedge between you two.”

Emma scoffs incredulously as she turns to glare at him. “That is a load of horse crap if I ever heard it. You brought Killian back to Storybrooke to investigate me because you think I hired Cassidy to kill Graham!”

Now Killian is the recipient of Elsa’s icy glare.

“You knew about this, too?”

“Elsa, you know I would’ve told you, but we couldn’t tell anyone because it would ruin the entire investigation.”

He can see her putting the pieces together, and he swallows the hard lump in his throat. The one thing he feared after agreeing to help David was Elsa hating him when she found out.

Tears glisten in her eyes, and it makes his heart clench painfully knowing how hurt she is. “So that’s why you wanted to make things right between us? So you could use me to get to Emma? Is that why you guilted my sister into inviting you to her wedding?”

If he could stand up fast he would, but instead, he settles for sitting up slowly, and Emma rushes over to help him, taking his hand as he carefully swings his legs over the edge. Already out of breath, he looks up at Elsa, gripping the edge of the bed. “Making things right with you was long overdue. And I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner. But I had another chance to take down my brother’s—your husband’s—killer and I didn’t want to fail you this time.”

A tear escapes her eye as she glances between the three of them. “No, instead you lied to me. All three of you lied to me.” She walks over and plops the bag of cookies on the bed, along with a card she pulls from her purse. “Camila and I made these for you. I’ll tell her you loved them.” She spins around and marches out of the room.

“Elsa, wait!” Emma runs out, racing after her.

~*~

Elsa doesn’t stop until she reaches the elevator and presses the down button. Emma catches up with her just as the doors open, and she steps in behind her cousin. Elsa sighs as she punches the button for the first floor.

“Elsa, I swear, I didn’t know Neal Gold murdered your husband,” Emma breathes as she stands in front of Elsa, pleading with her.

“You told me already.” She crosses her arms and looks away at the elevator wall to avoid eye contact.

“Then what do I have to do to convince you of how sorry I am?”

Elsa shoots a glare at her. “So if you could go back in time and change things, knowing what you know now, would you still have fought for Cassidy’s freedom?”

“If I knew Neal Gold was Cassidy, I would have been excused from the jury because I would’ve told them he was a suspect to my cousin-in-law’s murder.”

Elsa obviously is not happy about her answer because as soon as the doors open, Elsa makes a beeline out of it, Emma hot on her heels.

“Elsa, please, can we just talk about this?”

As soon as they’re outside, Elsa spins around on her heels. “Okay fine. You wanna talk about it? Then tell me, would you or would you have not voted for Cassidy’s acquittal if you could have a do-over?”

“But I just told you—”

Elsa puts up her hand to stop her. “No. If you were not excused from the jury. It’s a hypothetical question, Emma.”

She nods and licks her lips as she thinks about her answer. Well, she already knows what her answer is, she’s just hesitant to say it. “Okay, if you want the truth, then I still would have voted for his acquittal. The evidence was lacking. And if I do recall, so was the evidence they had during the investigation of Liam’s murder.”

Elsa scoffs incredulously. “Oh, so now you don’t think he killed my husband?! Are you seriously kidding me right now?!”

Emma shakes her head. “I never said that. I only said the evidence was lacking. That’s why they couldn’t charge him with Liam’s murder.”

Elsa draws in a long breath, letting it out slowly, her voice much calmer when she speaks again, tears welling in her eyes. “I know you’re intelligent, Em. I know you’re skilled and you’re logical. You’ve worked so hard to be where you are, and you make a damn good surgeon. My brother-in-law is alive because of you…”

As touched as Emma is about the compliments, she knows there’s a big but coming next.

“But sometimes I wish you weren’t so smart and didn’t have to analyze every little detail. Sometimes I wish you didn’t have to do anything and everything to avoid your friends and family at all costs.” Elsa manages a small smile through a watery gaze. “I sometimes wish you would’ve gotten to know Liam more before he died and that you would’ve attended his funeral. Now I wish that more than ever because I think if you had, you would’ve never wanted his killer loose on the streets. Maybe then you would have opened your eyes during that trial and saw the monster Cassidy truly is. All of us can see it without the physical proof. I wish you could too.”

As much as Elsa’s words sting, she’s right about all of it. If she wasn’t so scared and closed off, she wouldn’t have dodged every opportunity to get to know Liam. To get to know her cousins more. To get to know her niece more. She wouldn’t have missed out on so much and maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t be so alone. Maybe she and Killian would’ve met each other much earlier. Elsa’s also right about Cassidy. If she had followed her gut instincts, then perhaps she would’ve voted differently.

Elsa steps closer and grabs Emma’s hands, taking her off guard. “This is coming from someone who hated the world for a long time after she lost Liam. Someone who avoided her brother-in-law for three years…I was an ice queen. I just hope one day you’ll be able to give that enormous brain of yours a rest”—she squeezes Emma’s hands before releasing them—“and just, for once, follow your heart instead.”

If Emma wanted to, she could argue all day about how following your heart is not always the better option. She had followed her heart once before, only to see it shatter to pieces. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay tonight.” She’s sure Elsa would insist on staying at her place if she knew Cassidy was stalking her, but honestly, she deserves the distance she knows Elsa wants from her. And Elsa deserves the distance.

“Okay. Tell Killian, I’ll come back to visit. I just need some space right now.”

Emma nods. “Of course.”

~*~

Killian’s heart cracks as he grabs the card and lies back in bed with David’s help. He hates that Elsa feels betrayed by the three of them, he hates that they had to lie to her. But he did it for her husband. He did it for his brother and he won’t apologize for that.

David releases a heavy sigh and grabs the bag of cookies, taking one out and biting into it. “Mm, Elsa and Camila make the best cookies.” He sets the bag on the bed tray.

Killian scowls at him as he opens the card. “Oi, those are for me. I’m the one who has to eat the crap they pass off as hospital food.” He smiles when he reads the inside of the card, which is in handwritten crayon, along with the little hearts drawn around the words:

Hope you’re feeling better, Uncle Killy.

Love, Camila

He’s touched that his niece made this card for him, and she is one of the many reasons he can’t let his relationship with Elsa slip away again.

“I guess that means Elsa won’t be inviting Emma back to her house tonight.”

Panic ripples through him. He hadn’t thought about that. Emma had mentioned she was staying with Elsa, which had comforted him because he knew she wasn’t alone and also because David had police parked in front of the house. “We need to protect her. She’s not safe alone.”

David lifts a brow. “She told you about the card?”

“What card?”

“The card you found in her bedside drawer. The one that says I’ve got a crush on you.”

“No, she didn’t say anything about the card.” He had tried to erase it from his memory, but the curiosity constantly ate at him.

“Emma said Neal broke into her house to give it to her, along with a vase of red roses.”

“What?” Once again, he wished he could sit up fast but his body would not allow that kind of speed. “And she didn’t report it?” Now it makes sense why she was so jumpy over roses. First the bouquet he brought to her before their date. Then the bouquet she received at the nurse’s station. When he’d asked about it after he was moved to a private room, she had told him they were from a grateful patient, but the fear in her eyes told him otherwise.

“She didn’t think anything could’ve been done about it, since nothing was stolen or damaged.”

“But someone broke into her house.”

“I know, but she has a knack for overanalyzing everything. And then she received a phone call from him.” David tells him Cassidy was harassing her and spying on her while she was in the bathtub like the fucking creep he is.

It’s a bloody good thing Killian can’t quite make it down the hall because otherwise he’d be out of this hospital and out for blood. He’d go to prison for murder of course, but it would be worth it knowing that piece of scum was no longer walking around on this planet.

“That’s how Emma found out about the stakeout and that you were in on it. Cassidy called her the night you went on that date with her. My guess is he got jealous when he saw you with her, so he ratted you out.”

Killian curses under his breath and then says out loud, “If he lays a finger on Emma, I swear to Gods…”

David narrows his eyes at him. “If you didn’t already know this, then why did you think she needed protection?”

“Because when Cassidy stabbed me, he told me she was his and that he was taking her away from Storybrooke.”

“Did he say it was Emma?”

“No, but I assumed as much since he said I was trying to take his woman.”

David flashes an offhanded smirk. “Well, are you?”

“This isn’t funny, mate. Emma’s in danger. Any word from the DA about Cassidy?”

David plants his hands on his hips and cocks his head. “What do you think?”

Killian sighs defeatedly. “I take it he thought I was full of crap when I said it was Cassidy who stabbed me?”

“Not in those exact words, but yes, he took your history with him into account. You holding a personal vendetta against him doesn’t help. It reduces your credibility.”

Killian doesn’t bother to argue any further at this point. On one hand, he knows he fucked things up after Liam’s death, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.

“Well, I should get going,” David announces, placing a hand on Killian’s shoulder. “I’ll come back later with Mary Margaret and the boys.”

Killian manages a small smile and opens the bag of cookies, taking a bite of one. “I’ll be happy to see them.”

David heads for the door but turns around to look at him again. “I’ll check in on Emma later.”

“Thank you.”

But he doubts checking in on her is enough. He’s afraid Cassidy won’t stop until he gets his hands on her.

Now that he knows for sure Neal has been stalking her and is clearly obsessed with her, Killian is more anxious than ever to escape these hospital walls.

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#cs ff #captain swan #beyond a reasonable doubt

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