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donteattheappleshook · 11 months

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Not Broken At All Chapter 15/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated E

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CONTENT WARNING! This has the hunt which includes lost boys (kids) being killed and while it's brief, it's a dark scene. There's also some gore afterwards and violence (again against lost boys) referenced off-screen. If you're at all uncomfortable you can DM me and I can let you know which sections to avoid. I had a few people review it and tell me it's "dark but not too dark" but better safe than sorry. And hey, there’s also smut to make up for it.

Thank you thank you thank you thank you always @the-darkdragonfly and @elizabeethan for your help with this feral fic 😘 and thank you @kmomof4 for being a fantastic beta for this chapter! 💕💕

*****

Part 15

She can still feel the burn of his kiss - her kiss - on her lips when the moon hangs high above the Jolly. She’s been watching it, tracking its slow climb across the sky since she came out of the forest to find Will waiting on the shore - Wendy having taken the dinghy and leaving them stranded. Emma was almost relieved that she wasn’t there, that she didn’t have to explain why she was standing there alone, why Killian wasn’t with her. No matter how angry Wendy was at her Captain, she would have noticed. Will, on the other hand, was too fixated on the sea, on the ship rocking rhythmically against the waves to notice. But the way he watched it, as though it were miles away and not metres, betrayed what the longing in his eyes was really for.

She’d suggested they swim, the ship not far and the water most likely clear of vindictive sirens. Mostly she’d just wanted to get that look off of his face, to stop feeling the guilt that accompanied it. They’re risking their lives for you, Swan, all of us are - for you and for your son. He didn’t put up an argument. Will only shrugged dismissively, looking back out to the ship and wading into the sea.

It’s been hours since then, hours of waiting and staring out at the dark water, searching for any movement in the dimly lit night. She can feel the cold breeze seeping through her thin shirt, chilling her skin and sending a tremor through her bones. But she can’t go below deck, can’t leave her spot by the railing. Not until she sees some sign, any sign that she didn’t just send him to his death to protect Henry. Henry, who's still out there, who’s waiting for her to come get him, who may already hear the Lost Boys’ cries.

It’s late, the moon already growing dimmer against the lightening sky. Will had come up some time ago, only sparing her a passing look before finding a spot far enough away that they wouldn’t feel the need to speak. He’d gone straight below deck once they’d climbed out of the water, his small plea of ‘Wen, please’ carrying over to her in the silence. The nights are always so quiet here, the sea soundless against the ship, the wind not stirring in the trees. It’s wrong, and unnatural, this island not a place rooted in reality, the piercing wails of the children in the jungle starker against the silence, echoing over the sea.

Emma casts a glance over at Will, leaning over the railing, looking out at the water rather than the beach, though she imagines he’s not really looking at anything at all, and wonders if he can hear them. He’s never said. Only that Wendy did. And now Killian is out there risking his life to make it up to her, to atone for the daughter he left behind by making sure she doesn’t lose the man who stayed by her side. Because of her. Because she begged Will to go, begged anyone to go and do what she couldn’t.

Daylight begins its slow crawl over the night sky and still there’s no sign of Hook, no sign of Wendy since the forest. She doesn’t hear Will cross the deck until his arms fold over the railing beside hers, his shoulders tense as he leans heavily on them, his question leaving him in a heavy breath.

“He went, didn’t he?”

Emma nods, fingers pressing into the soft wood beneath them. But he’s not looking at her so she lets out a small ‘yeah’ and watches his jaw clench, teeth pressed together as anger and relief war on his face.

“Bastard.”

“How far is the camp?”

Will gives a small shrug. “It moves. But it can be found if you know what to look for.” When she doesn’t answer he finally turns his head, just a fraction and she feels his gaze from the corner of her eye as she goes back to watching the beach. “He’ll be back.”

“How do you know?”

“The man’s bloody impossible to kill. Trust me,” he insists. “I’ve tried.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He sighs when she doesn’t answer. “Pan doesn’t want him dead. He never has. He enjoys torturing him too much.”

“What if he changes his mind?” Especially if he catches him trying to meddle in whatever plan he has for Henry.

“He could,” Will acknowledges. “But he expects Hook to try and stop him. It’s all part of the game.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“Everything is a game to him. Sometimes… I used to wonder if he even knew what was real and what wasn’t. I didn’t. Not until…” The little girl he brought to Wendy. “He’s a child. Everything, this whole island, his hunts and his raids and his conquests, it’s all make believe, one big, never ending game.”

Emma doesn't know which is scarier, the thought that Pan is a monster that murders and maims and torments without remorse, or that his acts of cruelty can be carried out without care, without any true understanding of consequence - for fun. How many times as a child did she play cops and robbers? How many times did she and the other children in homes sword fight with sticks and cardboard tubes, laughing while they ‘killed’ one another. Because it was all just make believe.

Her thoughts are cut off by a slow roar of something in the trees, the dull, faraway sound carrying over the water. Will looks out at the sky, suddenly alert and she follows his gaze, the sun just breaking over the horizon. “It’s starting.”

It’s shouting, she realizes, a low rumble of a battle cry making its way towards the beach. “The hunt?”

“Aye.” The voice comes from behind them, Wendy having finally emerged from her cabin, staring out towards the shore. There’s a moment where she takes in Will standing beside her, frown pulling at her brow before relief softens it. But her gaze snaps back to the beach, eyes wide, brow marred again. “Where’s Killian?” The question is sharp, an order. But neither answer. She knows. Wendy rushes to the rail, looking frantically out over the water as though she could see him through the jungle. “Bastard.”

It takes her a moment to school her features, to regain control of herself, hands still clenched into fists against the edge of the Jolly. But once she does, she slips back into the role of the fierce pirate captain Emma met that first night - the one that ended a deathmatch with a single word. “Ready the crew” she tells Will. “Be sure they’re prepared to take on the wounded. And no one,” she adds, tone commanding and almost frightening, “no one is to leave the ship. Is that understood?” The question is directed at her.

“I-”

“If you go on that beach, you’re signing your death warrant. You’re to stay below deck,” she orders. “Understood?”

“I’m not staying below deck if Henry comes out of that jungle,” Emma argues.

“Killian is taking care of Henry. If Pan sees you you’ll be putting both of them at risk. You’ll stay below deck, Emma,” she repeats. “That’s an order.”

“Let me help. I can -”

Before she can finish, she’s being lifted off her feet, a small nod from Wendy to Will, some unspoken command and suddenly she’s tossed over his shoulder and letting out a cry of protest as she’s carried below deck.

“What the- Put me down!” she snaps, but Will and his stupid, freakish strength holds her steady, the arm across the back of her thighs vice-like.

“I swear to god, you better not lick me again while you’re back there,” he warns.

She gives a hard elbow to his ribs in retaliation, the small grunt he lets out immensely satisfying before she’s being dropped on her ass, the damp room one she doesn’t recognize, and a lock clicks into place. It takes her a second to register where she is.

“You’re throwing me in the fucking brig?” she demands, fingers wrapping around the solid iron bars. “You can’t be serious.”

“You're part of this crew. You don't follow orders, this is what happens,” Wendy tells her before heading back towards the deck. “You’ll be let out when it’s over.”

“Maybe,” Will adds with a mirthful smirk that makes her wish he was close enough to hit again. But the door slams shut between them and she’s left alone with her outrage.

The shouting is getting louder now, the sun climbing quickly - too quickly - into the sky. She can distinguish words now, cries of ‘get them’ breaking through the hollering and the cheering… and the screams. The first one she hears- sudden and sharp and cut off in an instant- sends her heart dropping into her stomach. She hardly has time to let the dread take over before another takes its place, this one worse, drawn out, fading into a whimper, small and heartbreaking and horrible. It’s followed by cries of victory.

Reaching for the bars on the small window of her cell she hoists herself up onto the small bench, just able to look out if she holds her weight up, standing on barely touching tiptoes. She wishes she hadn’t. The beach is a bloodbath, bodies strewn out across the sand, dead, or soon to be. They’re too far for her to recognize any, but they’re all so small, narrow shoulders and lanky limbs. Any one of those bodies could be Henry. Every single one is a child.

Emma nearly falls off the bench, barely managing to land on her feet as she doubles over, emptying her stomach on the floor of her cell. It doesn’t stop, the chaos on the beach echoing in the small room, screams, cheers of triumph, the slice of metal and the batter of arrows falling over one another until they all fade into the endless din of battle.

She can’t bring herself to look again, sitting with her back to the horror, hands over her ears as she tries to drown it all out, stuck and helpless to do anything about it. It’s not Henry. Henry’s not there. She needs to believe that Killian got to him in time, that he stopped him from being a part of it. Those aren’t his cries of pain she’s hearing. That’s not him celebrating. Henry’s not there. She repeats it, again and again, curled on the floor, trying to block out the horror. They were right. She wouldn't have been able to stay below deck- either above or below. She wouldn’t have been able to stay off the beach.

It goes on for ages, growing in volume, the Lost Boys riled up more with every fallen victim. She could almost believe they were playing, were it not for the crying, the pleas for mercy. Then, almost as quickly as it started, the sounds begin to quiet. She hears a flurry of footsteps thundering onto the deck above her head, hears the muffled shout of Wendy ordering her crew to aid the survivors.

The mayhem on the beach finally settles, the slashing of swords and the cries dropping one by one until there’s silence. And then there are only hoots and hollers echoing across the shore - a celebration. Someone is congratulating them. She doesn’t have to guess who it is. She’ll recognize that twisted, childlike voice for the rest of her life.

It’s over. It has to be. Please let it be over. There’s no more clash of swords, no more wails of pain and death and she can almost breathe again until she hears it. A single, sobbing whimper from the shore, a cry of “mama” that burrows itself deep, echoing through her. There’s another. And another. And it’s the worst sound she’s ever heard, worse than the Lost Boys at night - children crying for their mothers.

She’s on her feet before she can think, yanking at the goddamn padlock on her door, clawing at it and shouting with rage when it doesn’t give. She doesn’t have anything to pick it with - no tools, no pins, not even a goddamn pen to break apart. Fucking pirates knowing better than to leave anything within reach that could help her break out.

She pulls the heavy leather boot from her foot, the heel solid and adorned with metal. It’s flimsy and awkward but it’s all she’s got and she reaches, arm scrapped raw by the stripped bars as she tries to get any force behind the blow. Reaching for the padlock, the angle awkward, and hitting it again and again, she curses when she hits it hard enough to knock the boot out of her hand, fingers aching where they still connect with the iron.

But she doesn’t stop, not so long as she can hear the kids crying from the shore. She may not be their mother but she’s a mother and she’s getting to that fucking beach. She yanks off her other boot, trying again, hanging on so tightly this time that her knuckles go white. Emma’s not sure how long she tries, how many times she brings the heel down on the lock, her skin damp with sweat, her shirt bloodied where the bars scratched her.

“Come on you stupid son of a bitch.” She’s tired, her arm aching, fingers bruised, but there’s a fury in her, a rage that builds until it feels like it will burst out of her. And then it does. She smashes the lock again, a spark of light flashing when it makes contact, bright enough that she has to shut her eyes. But when she opens them, the lock is on the ground, broken in two.

The cell swings open easily as she runs for the deck, yanking the door of the brig open only to crash into a figure on the other side. Fingers and metal wrap around her arms as she tries to push past him, shouting obscenities and shoving at him. But he doesn’t move, his grip tightening until she hisses, flinching, skin scratched raw beneath his hand and he lets go.

“Swan.” The name is what snaps her out of her panic. Her name. The one only he calls her - the one he promised not to let her forget. She looks up at him, finally realizing that it’s him, that he’s there and alive. The blue of his eyes, sad and anxious, shines even in the dim light of the room. “It’s over.”

She hears it then, the absence. There’s no more noise, no more screaming, no crying, the awfulness faded to nothing, the only sound the creaking of footsteps above them and her own ragged breathing. Her hands slide over his chest, pulling back enough to look for any sign he’s been hurt, that he didn’t come back in one piece. She searches his face, remembering the way she’d first found him, battered and bleeding, but those wounds are long healed, no new ones in their place and she sighs gratefully.

“Henry?”

“He’s fine. He wasn’t there. He’s safe.”

She nearly gives into the sobs that are trying to spill out of her, too full of anguish and fear and relief to keep them from overflowing. But her hands find the sides of his face, rising on her toes to capture his mouth with hers. She’s cried enough today - cried enough every day since she got to this stupid island, since she lost Henry to it. She doesn’t want to cry anymore. Her tears serve no purpose. They won’t keep Henry safe - but Killian did. Killian kept him safe.

He lets her kiss him, lets her slide her fingers into his hair, lets her seek his tongue with her own and keep him there with a death grip on his collar. But when she presses herself closer to him, seeking more of his heat to warm her frozen skin, more of him to fill the ache growing inside of her, he pulls back. He watches her carefully, searching for something, maybe remnants of the wine or that the events of the last hour haven’t completely destroyed her.

But Emma sees it then, the same exhaustion she feels darkening his eyes, pulling at the lines of his brow. The mask of resilience and unflinching coolness in the face of everything that’s been thrown at them slips, and he lets her see the suffering she knows is reflected back at him. She doesn’t know how long he’s been on the ship, how much of the massacre he had to watch before he came to find her - how many times he’s had to watch it before, just as powerless as she’d been to stop it.

She opens her mouth to say something, to ask him those very questions, but his lips crash down over hers before she can get the words out. The force of it sends her stumbling back and he follows, kiss hard and demanding, the door slamming as he kicks it shut behind him, and he leads them both across the room until her back collides with the bars of the cell, knocking the wind out of her. He swallows the sound she makes, tongue sliding over her lip in apology before pushing its way into her mouth to taste whatever he can reach, whatever he can take.

He kisses her with the same desperation she feels - for all of this to be finished, for the horrible feeling and memory that’s sunk its teeth in to be drowned out. She understands. She doesn’t want to talk either. This day - the last hour alone - all she wants is to forget it. Just for a little while she wants to forget every wretched thing about Neverland and lose herself in the one person who’s helped her survive it.

Emma shoves at the lapels of his coat, pushing it over his shoulders and he lets it fall to the floor with a heavy sound. His lips find her neck as she reaches for his vest, fingers fumbling on the buttons when he works a mark into her collarbone and tugs her hair loose from its messy knot. Far more adept, even with only one hand, her borrowed vest is opened and tossed unceremoniously aside before she’s managed to undo all his fastenings, Killian pulling her shirt over her head almost frantically.

She cries out when his mouth closes over her breast, hot and wet, tongue rolling over the hardened peak while his hand finds the other and he turns her into a panting, whimpering mess just like he’d promised to in the fae woods. When she hisses out a warning ‘Killian’, his lips start a path down the length of her stomach, dropping to his knees, shucking his vest and shirt.

The look he tosses up at her, checking before his hook tugs at the laces of her stupid, inconvenient pants, sends heat burning in her stomach and wetness pooling between her thighs as he yanks the heavy fabric down her hips. Desperate, wrecked, the blue of his eyes nearly eclipsed by the black, heavy-lidded and full of shameless want and dirty promises.

“Fuck.” Her hands find purchase in his hair, stumbling back, hardly stepped out of the leather before his mouth is on her, hooking a leg over his shoulder and pressing her against the bars once more. The rough iron scrapes at the bare skin of her back, but she doesn’t care, not with the way he’s sucking at her clit, tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves and growling into her skin when she bucks into his mouth.

He presses his brace across her hips, holding her still as he eats into her, fucking her with his tongue and nothing about today matters anymore. Nothing feels real apart from his mouth between her thighs, the scrape of his jaw rough against sensitive skin. She whines at the push of his fingers inside of her, pleasure tightening in her stomach, the anticipation building in every muscle, the promise of release and fucking ecstasy just out of reach.

“Please.” The word escapes on a whimper, wanton and desperate, and then he’s moaning against her, teeth scraping sharply against her clit, making her cry out and her hands fist harshly in his hair when he pulls it into his mouth, fingers curling in time with the pulse of his tongue against her, his lips around her, and then she’s shattering.

She barely manages to catch her cry of release between her teeth as her whole body shudders and it escapes as a muffled sob in the dark room. But Killian doesn’t relent, egged on by her coming apart on his tongue, working her frantically, drawing out the aftershocks until they start to build to a new height altogether. She’s about to fall again, so close to the edge, but she pushes at his shoulders.

“Wait.” He only resists for a second, eyes dark with hunger when he looks up at her, but it’s the small hint of desperation, the unbridled abandon emanating from him that makes her remember that he needs this just as much as she does. That he’s been through as much as she has. And it’s not the first time for him. She can’t imagine living through today again and again for centuries. It’s no wonder he found solace wherever he could and with whoever he could in this horrible place. She’s been living a nightmare for a week. He’s been living it for lifetimes.

Emma joins him on her knees, not caring about the dirt and the damp as she pulls him to her, mouth finding his easily. The way their lips move against each other is familiar now, but no less heated as his arms come around her waist, pressing heated skin to heated skin, hand snaking up the length of her back to tangle in her hair, gathering it at the nape of her neck.

She explores the length of his arms with careful fingers, muscles hard under her hands from years at sea and endless fighting. She feels the rise and fall of scars across his skin before dragging her nails down his shoulders, leaving her own mark and feeling the bite of his teeth against her lip. Her fingers move to his chest, sliding through the coarse hair and finding the evidence of years spent in bloodshed. The gasp he lets out when she rakes them over the flat of his stomach to his hips is choked and she ducks her head, lips leaving his to trail the length of his jaw, tongue sliding over the spot below his ear he can’t seem to leave alone.

“Emma…” It’s a plea and a warning and a question all in one as she pulls at his laces. The feel of him straining hard and hot beneath her palm only urges her on as her mouth explores the taut line of his neck, leaving a mark on his collarbone to match the one he gave her.

He hisses out a word that isn’t in English but she’s almost positive is a curse when she slides into his leathers, fingers wrapping around his cock and running her hand over the hard length in rough, purposeful strokes. She touches him the way he’d touched her, urgent and desperate and aware that they’re on stolen time, revelling in every sound and unconscious thrust of his hips she draws from him.

His grip on her hair becomes vice-like, tugging her head back enough that he can taste her neck again, mouth and tongue sloppy between the small growls and sharp breaths he lets out hot against her skin. The drag of cool metal over her nipple makes her falter in her rhythm. He does it again, circling the hardened peak with the sharp tip of his hook and she releases him altogether, desire burning impatient as she pushes him back to sit on his discarded coat.

Killian takes hold of her hips as she climbs into his lap, settling a knee on either side of him before taking his cock in hand again and sinking down over the length of him. His muttered ‘bloody hell’ reverberates through her as he holds still, straining as he gives her a moment to adjust to the size of him, the burn and the fullness that turn to heat and want, and she needs more.

When she rocks her hips over his, they both let out a groan at the drag of his cock- so fucking perfect inside of her. Emma braces her hands on his shoulders so she can move over him, desperate to find that toe-curling pleasure he gave her again.

His fingers dig into the curve of her ass, rolling and guiding them into a rhythm, hips rising to meet her every time she takes him in again, refusing to be a passive participant as she rides him towards their release. His hook and mouth are everywhere, touching and tasting, finding the places that make her tremble, bearing down relentlessly when the curl of his tongue or the scrape of his hook causes her to cry out and soon she’s right on the edge again, lips pressed hard together against the moans of encouragement and of his name that want to fall from them.

His hand releases her, letting her keep their pace, change it how she wants, and his fingers trail over her hip, ghosting over the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh. His thumb slides between them, finding where they’re joined with practiced ease and circling with every roll of her hips until she can’t keep quiet anymore, hands gripping madly at his back, teeth biting into his shoulder as she tries to muffle her cries.

He presses harder, circling faster, murmuring filth and praise into her ear and holy fuck she doesn’t think she’s ever been fucked so properly in her life - every inuendo and brazen conquest on the island entirely justified. There are no thoughts left apart from how badly she needs to come, all senses muted, drowned out by the overwhelming build, the delicious drive of his cock inside of her, thrusting harder, deeper.

His mouth nips at her ear, begging her to let him see her fall apart again, telling her how good she feels, how he wants to feel her shuddering around him, how he wants to come inside her. And then there’s nothing but ecstasy, nothing but fire and release as she comes apart at his hands.

She’s still shaking when he rolls her onto her back, braced on his hooked arm as the other slides under her knee, spreads her wider for him, fucking into her wildly, harder, deeper, chasing his release as fervently as she had hers. The grind of his hips, the scratch of his chest hair against her breasts sets off another wave of lust in her, begins another rapid climb as he takes her, using her however he wants, building on the high of her orgasm before it’s faded and sending her over the edge again.

The sound he lets out when he feels her coming once more, feels the dig of her nails in his back, is almost feral. Her name is a curse and a plea as he pounds into her until he goes rigid under her hands, pulling out and spilling himself hot on her stomach with a moan muffled against the crook of her neck.

There’s nothing but the sound of their breaths, heavy in the stillness of the room, the chaos of the deck far away above them as they lay still tangled in one another for a moment, drawing out the feeling of relief as long as they can, hiding from reality for just a little longer. Here in the dark with the weight of his body still over hers and the gentle hum of her skin, the heaviness of her limbs, it’s easy to pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

It's too soon when she feels him shift, the press of his lips to the hollow of her throat before he lifts his head, reaching for something in one of the many pockets of his coat they’ve sprawled out on. How he knows where anything is in the (she suspects) dozens of secret compartments that may or may not be magically hidden is beyond her, but he pulls out a handkerchief - dark like everything else he wears, but fine like everything else as well.

Tracing it gingerly over her stomach, he begins to clean the mess he made of her, erasing every trace of him from her skin. Emma takes it from him when he’s finished, sitting up to take care of the rest when she feels the brush of his fingers over her shoulder, tracing lines down her back with a furrowed brow and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“What?” she asks, voice raw and rough from exhaustion.

His knuckles ghost feather-light along her back again, her skin burning slightly under his touch. “You’re hurt.”

There’s a bit of guilt in his expression as she turns to try and look over her shoulder, to see what he sees, the marks probably left on her skin from the iron bars. “I’m fine,” Emma promises, but he’s tracing the cuts on her arm now, ones that are definitely not his doing. “Those are technically Will’s fault,” she tells him casually, still pissed at her friend for tossing her in here, and he raises a brow at her blasé shrug. “Just if you were looking for an excuse, is all. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to defend my honour or something.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up in amusement. “I think you’re plenty capable of defending your own honour, love,” he tells her, brushing a stray lock of hair back over her shoulder. She watches him fight a smirk out of the corner of her eye. “There’s a bottle in my coat,” he says then. “If you don’t mind.”

Emma looks down at the heavy leather she’s still sitting on, the Mary Poppins bag of coats, and raises a brow at him. “You’re kidding right?”

Shaking his head with an exasperated sigh - the one she’s come to consider her own - he reaches over her, digging into one of the infinite pockets and she tries not to let him see the way her breath catches, heat burning low and slow everywhere he’s nearly touching her.

She could lean forward, just a fraction, and press her lips to the spot behind his ear, see if he’d say her name again in that shaky, pleading way he had before. If she kissed him now would he press her into the floor again, drag his tongue over her skin and make her fall apart with mouth and hand and cock? Would he let her do the same to him, let her bring him over that edge with her mouth on him, while she rode him?

Get a grip, she scolds herself when he finds what he’s looking for, pulling back to face her. She hopes he can’t read where her thoughts had strayed, can’t see the evidence she’s sure is written all over her, you literally just came three times. It’s just Neverland, just like it had been when she’d kissed him in his cabin and had been ready to let him fuck her on his desk where anyone could walk in (and had). It has to be - because if it’s not and it’s just him, then this could become a problem really quickly.

If Killian does notice though, he doesn’t say anything and her own spiralling thoughts are halted when she sees the bottle in his hand, the water swirling of its own volition, a pattern that has no ties to the world around it.

“Is that water from the spring?” she asks hesitantly as she watches him pour some onto another bit of cloth, one that looks like the same kind of bandage she’d made for him.

“Aye.”

“You’ve just been carrying that stuff around? Might have been helpful when you were stuck in that hospital bed.”

Another exasperated look. “I filled a bottle when we arrived - It doesn’t work in your realm. Thought it might come in handy. And look, it has.” She has to fight a laugh at his snark; he’s been spending too much time with her. “Now are you going to let me help you?” he asks, what was obviously originally a kind gesture now spoken with a familiar sigh that makes her catch her amusement between her teeth even as she nods and turns her back to him.

“How did you find out about this stuff?” she asks when his hook brushes her hair out of the way over her shoulder - mostly to distract herself from the feel of the metal against the nape of her neck, remembering it other places.

His tone is solemn when he answers though, cloth not touching her skin as he hesitates. “When I first came here… my brother was poisoned - dreamshade.” Brother? The water is cool against her back, his touch careful. “Pan showed me the spring.”

“The water saved him?”

The length of his pause makes her wish she hadn’t asked. “For a time.”

“He drank it.” It’s not a question and he doesn’t answer and her heart breaks for him. “And Pan let you leave.” How many people has he lost - how much pain has he suffered at the hands of the cruel people who took them from him? “Why did you come back?”

“Because I was a fool, looking for revenge against the Crocodile. Sometimes I wonder if he knew - if he showed me the dreamshade because he knew I’d return for it one day. He has a way of seeing people, finding the parts they don’t want seen, and using them to get what he wants.” She wants to tell him that he’s wrong, that whoever he thinks Pan saw in him isn’t who he is. But she can’t find the words, all of them sounding like platitudes. He misunderstands her silence. “Henry’s far stronger than I was, love. He won’t give in so easily.”

Killian presses the cloth to her back again, meticulous in his task and she wraps her arms around her knees, pulling them to her chest. “What did you say to him?”

She can feel the tension radiating off of him, matching it immediately. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I couldn’t risk him seeing me and knowing you were here. For all he is, Henry’s still a child, and little boys can’t keep secrets.”

“So what did you do?”

The way he clears his throat is almost indecipherable, his hand going over the same spot by her shoulder again and again, the scratch definitely gone by now. “Pan’s camp is always moving, but he also always sets it near a body of water, usually a stream.”

“Why?”

The cloth slides over her skin slowly, buying time, avoiding looking at her. “For the Lorelei.”

Emma whirls on him. “What?”

“Calm down, love,” he says softly, trying to get her to turn back around. “The sirens are his messengers; they relay his desires and bring him news of any stirrings on the island.”

“Killian. Did you send fucking Ianeira to him?” The mermaid who’s apparently so fond of drowning and eating humans.

“No.” She breathes a sigh of relief, but it’s short lived. “...Ianeira has a daughter.”

“What?!” That’s not any better.

“Swan.” He gives up his task for a moment, finally looking at her. “Do you really believe I’d have sought their help if they posed any threat to Henry? The Lost Boys are off limits to the Lorelei, and they’re on our side, bound by a bargain you made.” Her shoulders relax a little, still not happy about it. “The girl is hardly older than Henry in appearance. I thought she would have a better chance at getting through to him. The Lorelei can be…”

“Fucking terrifying?”

“Aye,” he nods. “She drew him from the camp and passed on our warning - that he can’t trust Pan, no matter what he says, that the hunt tomorrow is real and Pan would try and make him hurt the other boys, that if he did… he would never be able to leave Neverland.”

“Is that true?” Emma tries to keep the tremor out of her voice as she turns away, resting her chin on her knees. She doesn’t want to see his face when he answers. She'd rather be able to believe him if he lies.

“I don’t know,” he admits, drawing the healing water over a mark by her spine. “But we won’t find out, aye?”

She nods, halfheartedly. “And you’re sure he wasn’t there?”

“I watched the camp from the treeline all night and into the morning. Your boy resisted Pan’s manipulations. He’s stubborn, like his mother.” She shoots him a look over her shoulder, eyes narrowed and he smirks. “It’ll serve him well here. I kept watch until it would have been too late for him to join. I told you, love, he was far away from all of it.”

“But you weren’t.”

She feels his sigh hot against her skin. “I took a shortcut back to the ship. I couldn’t risk Pan wondering where I was when they reached the beach…”

Emma nods. “Today was -” She doesn’t have words for it.

“I know.” She feels the backs of his fingers ghost over the nape of her neck, brushing away hair that hasn’t fallen, thumb tracing along her nape. “I wish I could say it gets easier.”

She nods again - she wouldn’t believe him if he did - and tightens her arms around her knees, banishing the memories that try to creep in, wanting to stay here where they don’t exist for a little longer.

“So Ianeira has a kid.” He doesn’t comment on her change of subject, only hums. “She doesn’t really seem the motherly type.” And then thought suddenly strikes her. “Is she…”

Killian laughs. “Mine?” It’s not that ridiculous. He might have accidentally boned all the mermaids in Neverland. He could have dozens of little merbabies swimming around. “No, Swan, sirens don’t reproduce. They’re born of chance and magic, and very rare.”

“What about all your ‘creative’ encounters?”

“Those are… recreational.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Of course they are.” She doesn’t have to see his smirk to know it’s there, hook looping around her arm, tugging it gently free from its death grip around her legs so he can tend to the skin she marked up in her attempt to escape. The water stings slightly, the cuts deeper there, the cloth no longer as cold. “I can’t believe she let you use her daughter,” she admits. “She was so protective of her sisters.”

Killian hums in agreement, “It took some convincing.”

“Did it?” She doesn’t think she’s ever failed so spectacularly at sounding indifferent.

He lets out a soft huff of laughter, lips pressing to the back of her shoulder before he rests his chin on it. “Jealous?”

Emma scoffs. “Yeah, right. You wish.”

He’s quiet for a moment, her teasing not returned and he takes a slow breath in, lifting his head to look at her, the weight of his gaze enough that she twists to meet it. His exhale is warm against the curve of her neck, the sincerity in his eyes stripped bare, holding her captive with their intensity. “Perhaps I do.”

She swallows, heart racing at his confession. Because that’s what it is, a confession of intentions, of feelings she’s not sure she can face - his or her own. He’s watching her, waiting, that openness, the little bit of hope she can see breaking through absolutely terrifying. It’s one thing to find comfort in each other after a tragedy. But this, what he’s so clearly asking, isn’t something she thinks she can give.

Her tongue runs over her lips, mouth suddenly dry, the motion drawing his attention and breaking whatever that was that just passed between them. Her voice is tinged with gravel when she tells him, “I think you’ve got enough jealous creatures on this island for one man to handle.”

Emma sees the barest hint of disappointment he lets slip and makes herself ignore it. “You make me sound like quite the scoundrel,” he smirks, reaching for his discarded shirt and draping it over her shoulders. “I assure you I can only devote myself to one woman at a time.”

She raises a brow at him, pulling the shirt closed around herself, feeling less vulnerable than she had a moment ago and she thinks maybe he’d known. “There were three fairies throwing themselves at you yesterday - four,” she corrects, having forgotten the handsome gold-hued man. She thinks she sees the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks beneath the cocky shrug.

“That was Solstice. It doesn’t count.”

Emma rolls her eyes, pointing out for the second time, “How convenient.”

A thud from upstairs draws her attention, followed by a shout of pain, and she hears Will cursing. Stay bloody still, damnit. When she looks over at Killian, he’s watching the ceiling too, whatever lightness he may have held onto for a moment now gone.

“We should get up there,” she says, not looking forward to whatever devastation awaits them on deck. There’s no lesser horror. Either many survived and there’ll be dozens of wounded and traumatised children awaiting them, forced to join a life of being hunted by Pan forever, or there won’t be - and the beach will be littered with bodies.

“Aye,” he agrees, standing and finding his pants, tugging the leather over his hips as she does the same. She’s lacing them up when she notices his attention.

“What?”

“You’ve got my shirt.” She looks down at the soft black fabric he’d wrapped her in, then at the bloodied white shirt in his hand. “Not that you don’t look quite fetching in it, love, but unless you want Wendy and Scarlet to know -”

Emma snatches her shirt from him, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “Turn around.” The look he gives her tells her what she already knows, that she’s being absolutely ridiculous, but he just gives her an amused little smirk before doing as she asked. It’s not that she thinks Will and Wendy don’t already know, or that she’s oblivious to the fact that he’s already seen everything, but preparing to walk into a tragedy after they’ve been hiding down here, selfishly pretending it wasn’t happening, sends guilt churning in her stomach.

When she’s dressed, hat tugged low over her head to try and hide her face from the new boys, she lets him turn back around, tossing him his shirt and waiting until he pulls the heavy leather coat back over his shoulders. “Ready?”

No. She nods.

The scene is worse than she imagined. She’d been prepared for the blood, for the pain and the chaos as the crew do their best to tend to whatever injuries they can. There’s buckets of bloodied spring water, discarded bandages stained red, former Lost Boys shouting and struggling against the holds the pirates have on them as they try and heal them. They’re still the enemy, she realizes. They may have just been nearly murdered by their comrades but until this morning, the Jolly was enemy territory, and now they’re being held captive.

What she hadn’t been prepared for were the ones who weren’t injured, who weren’t fighting, the ones sitting along the side of the ship, knees curled tight to their chests and hands over their ears as they stare at nothing with eyes that aren’t seeing.

Killian moves quickly, hurrying over to where Will is trying to hold down a boy who looks about twelve while Wendy attempts to reset his leg, broken with an arrow pierced through the bone. He takes the boy’s shoulder and arm so Will can do the same, both pressing down on his torso until he can’t move - Emma looks away but she hears the crunch of bone and the scream nonetheless.

“Hand me some bandages.” It’s not until Wendy shouts her name that she realizes she’s talking to her, the boy still fighting, though he’s growing weaker now. She scrambles to grab some from one of the buckets, bringing them to her. The captain begins wrapping the injury with soaked bandages, the arrow that had pierced him used as a brace, and the kid’s eyes fade in and out of focus, finally shutting as he passes out.

“A little help!” one of the pirates calls, struggling under the weight of a boy only a few years younger than himself. A stain of dark red blood is blooming on his stomach, soaking through his leather vest and Emma doesn’t freeze this time, running over and looping the kid’s other arm over her shoulders. They set him down against the mainsail, Emma watching as the pirate, barely more than a teenager, pulls open the boy’s shirt.

“What happened?”

“Looks like a rapier,” he answers, inspecting the gash, blood flowing freely from it. “Gimme a hand,” he tells her and grabs the kid’s shoulder so they can turn him over. “Dammit. It’s gone right through him.” Emma doesn’t know much about medicine but she does know that without treatment, a stomach wound is basically a death sentence.

“Can you do anything?”

“Nothing good,” he sighs under his breath. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a bottle like the one Killian carried and uncorking it. “Listen, mate, I can make this better okay?” The boy glares at him, face pale and clammy, distrusting. “If you drink this, you’ll live. If you don't, you're gonna die.” Emma’s thrown by his bluntness, by how calm he is despite being so young and she wonders how many hunts he’s already lived through. The boy continues to glare, looking away from him, rejecting the offer. “But if you do - hey,” he snaps, grabbing the kid’s chin and making him face him. “You’ll never get to leave, okay? You’ll be stuck here. Forever. And it fucking sucks here once you’re out. But you’ll be alive. And you’ll be one of us.”

“Can’t you just give it to him?” Emma demands, a second away from snatching the bottle and forcing it down the dying teenager’s throat.

The pirate shakes his head. “Captain’s rules.” She wonders which captain.

The boy still looks resistant, like he’d rather die than become a pirate than switch sides, regardless of what Pan’s just done to him. But then he starts to cough, a fit that takes over, the rough sound gurgling and wet as blood begins to drip from his lips and he turns panicked eyes on the pirate. The older boy nods, handing him the vial, but not letting go yet, waiting until the kid meets his gaze. “Never,” he reminds him. “You’ll never go home, okay?”

Emma watches him nod, bring the water to his bloodied mouth and drink, wincing and coughing as he tries to swallow, finally managing to get some down. They wait, a few long, drawn out moments, before the pirate looks at his wound again and Emma watches in amazement as it begins to close, blood flowing backwards along his torso in streams, pulled back into the tear in his skin.

The older boy pats his shoulder. “Try and get some rest. That’ll still hurt like a bitch for a while.” And then he’s gone, moved on to the next injured Lost Boy, and the next.

When everything is over, wounds bandaged, survivors counted, bodies laid carefully on the deck, a strange sort of silence settles over the ship. It’s not the silence of Neverland, that unending, eerie quiet, but the silence of dozens choosing not to speak, unable to speak in the wake of bloodshed. A crew member is cleaning the deck, the oldest here by far in his mid twenties, gaze somehow both unbothered and far away as he mops up the blood that ripples with the whim of the spring water spilled on the wood. Will is over by the side of the ship, talking to some of the boys who won’t speak, who don’t look at anything, voice falling low and gentle on deaf ears.

Wendy and Killian are with the dead, placing coins over their eyes and wrapping their bodies in sails. She can count five, five who made it to safety only to die on the bow of the Jolly. Emma stares out at the beach. There were far more than five out there. A few hours ago there were at least a dozen Lost Boys left out under the hot son. Both are gone now.

Sometime, in what’s been both the shortest and longest day of her life - the sun setting before it had managed to reach its highest point in the sky - Pan and his crew must have come by to collect their dead. Or perhaps something else took care of them, she’d seen shadows on the beach as darkness settled. Though what or who those shadows belonged to she couldn’t tell.

Killian had explained, as she’d helped to place a boy gently on a stretch of canvas and sew the fabric around him, that night always came quickly after a hunt. “There’s always a celebration for the victors.” Wendy had said the word with so much disgust it made Emma’s stomach turn. “They feast and fly and dance around the fire, bragging about their conquests.”

“Did you ever-” she started, but stopped when the woman’s face darkened, regret and anger. “I’m sorry.”

“They’re children,” is all Wendy gave in answer, casting a look towards Will, still trying to reach a boy, shaking and huddled by the helm. “So were we.”

Sleep doesn’t come easy, the sound of footsteps above her making her jerk awake - boys who’d refused to take a bunk below deck, still not willing to accept their new fate, their new role on this island. Voices set her heart racing, forgetting every time that the hunt is over. The crying tonight is louder than it’s been since she arrived, and the sounds of celebration carry over on the water.

She wants to go up there, wants to help them in a way she couldn’t this morning. But she saw the way they looked at her on deck, anger and hatred and fear. She’d be no comfort to them, not as a pirate. She could as herself, as a mother like ones they keep calling out for even now. Little boys can’t keep secrets. Emma’s shared her secret enough on this island. She can’t risk it without knowing they’re allies.

Knowing that doesn’t make it any less horrible, doesn’t make the guilt any lighter or stop each wail from piercing through her chest. And it doesn’t bring sleep either. She hears the door to the room beside her open quietly and shut with a click, hears the muffled voices, one hissed anger and the other gentle compassion, back and forth until they both go silent, finding comfort amidst the chaos.

It makes her want to cry, to let her own tears join those she only hears because she’s always been alone, because she’s always been abandoned - time and again. That may be the worse part, the small, selfish part of her that couldn’t help but understand their sorrow. She’s never lived through anything like they just have, but she knows that betrayal, the heartbreak of having trusted someone so completely, only to be cast aside. Alone again. Always alone.

“Emma?” He’s not asleep when she sneaks into his cabin, pads across the small space to his bed. He’s half sat up, hand reaching instinctively for his sword at the first creak of the door opening, but his brace and hook are on the small table beside him, blunted arm and chest bare, sheets pooled in his lap. “What’s wrong?”

She tries to answer, all of her explanations feeling weak, and her words get caught on a shaky inhale. She doesn’t want to talk about it, so instead she closes the rest of the distance between them, climbing carefully into the bed beside him and sliding beneath the covers. He tenses for a moment when she curls herself against his side, head resting tentatively on his shoulder, but then he softens, letting out a breath and sinking back against the pillows.

His arm hovers, hesitating before wrapping around her. She brings her own hand to his chest, focusing on the feel of the dark hair beneath her fingers rather than the way her hands still shake, listening to the rise and fall of his breaths rather than the sobs upstairs she can’t escape, and the steady beat of his heart as she tries to forget all the ones that won’t beat again.

His lips press to her crown, not quite a kiss as he speaks against her hair. “Sleep, love. Neverland can’t find you here.”

******

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from my tag list!

@kmomof4 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @undercaffinatednightmare @jennjenn615 @dramioneswan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @batana54 @lfh1226-linda @csalltheway @xsajx @xarandomdreamx @onceratheart18 @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway @zaharadessert @thejollyroger-writer @ultraluckycatnd @justanother-unluckysoul @spartanguard @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @wefoundloveunderthelight @sailtoafarawayland @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @superchocovian @snowbellewells @xellewoods @sals86 @karlyfr13s @ouatpost @skairipakomtrikru @lonelyspectator12 @anmylica @alexa-fangirl-forever @inspiredbystardust @marcella2727 @paradiselady19 @koryandr @killiansprincss @goforlaunchcee

#captain swan #cs fanfic #cs neverland au #cs neverland smut #cs smut #cs angst #cw violence #cw death #season 1 au #sort of

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kazoosandfannypacks · 11 months

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"Last Chance" by kazoosandfannypacks

Pairing: Captain Swan Rating: General Word Count: 1K Summary: Killian had been hoping to tell Emma about his feelings for her at some point this Christmas break, as their friends visited with her brother. As the holiday came and went, Killian feared he may have missed his chance. Fortunately for him, one last Christmas decoration has yet to be put away- and it may be just what they need to break the ice. Tags: au, fluff, captain swan, one shot, modern au, christmas, snowing, first kiss, oneshot, college au Author's notes: This one's based on a prompt that @everything-person sent to the discord a while back! It was probably jsut after Christmas when it was sent, and I wrote it not long after that, but it sat in my drafts for a while. After a poll revealed y'all wouldn't mind a Christmas fic in May, I've decided today would be an awesome day to post it. I hope you guys enjoy it! Shoutout to @booksteaandtoomuchtv for betaing! Taglist:@zahara@kmomof4@jonesfandomfanatic@booksteaandtoomuchtv@jrob64@tiganasummertree@anmylica@teamhook@undercaffinatednightmare@gingerchangeling@lonelyspectator@caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @silver-the-phoenix @pawshapedheart [if you’d like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!] Also on Ao3!

Killian smiled at Emma across the room as she took down the decorations on the tree, just like he'd smiled at her when she'd helped put them up, and like he'd smiled at her when they'd helped her sister-in-law make cutout cookies, and when they'd all gone caroling and got hot chocolate afterwards, and when they exchanged gifts on Christmas morning, and when they all sat down for a Christmas dinner- and really, like he'd been smiling at her since the day he met her at a campus-wide fall festival- one that he'd almost decided not to attend; one that she'd've skipped out on if her friends hadn't dragged her along.

But how fortunate was he that he'd gone, and that he'd somehow fallen in with her friend group there, and how readily they invited him to join them at various activities afterwards. Already they'd celebrated a few birthdays together, set up a trunk for trunk-or-treat, gone on a few hikes- and now they'd even celebrated Christmas together.

It really was kind of Emma's brother to invite him and some of their other friends to stay over the week for Christmas. It was nice to get away from the dorms for a bit to celebrate a small town Christmas.

It also would've been the perfect opportunity for Killian to tell Emma how he felt about her. Christmas magic in the air, blanket of snow across the town, the lights, the excitement, the merriment, the wonder- but as Killian helped her brother, David, take down the last string of Christmas lights, he realized he'd probably missed his chance at a Christmas miracle. Tomorrow they'd head back to school, back to classes and teachers and homework- back to normal.

And, unfortunately for Killian, his normal life only involved liking Emma from a distance.

"And it looks like another family- and friends- Christmas is officially in the books." David said, wrapping up the last string of lights.

"Thanks for having us," Killian said.

"Our pleasure," David said, "the more the merrier."

"Allow me," Killian said, taking the string of lights from David, "you've already done more than enough for us."

"Alright."

A bright green tote labeled "XMAS LIGHTS" sat just between this room and the living room- where Emma had been taking the last of the decorations off the tree. Killian wondered if he could steal another glance at Emma without anyone noticing, but his glance revealed she was coming that way, with a string of lights of her own to put away.

"Here," Killian said, walking past the tote to take the string of lights from her.

"I can get it," she said, holding out the string of lights at arms length away from him.

"It's really no trouble at all," Killian said. He stood in the doorway between her and the box of lights, and when she tried to walk past him, he sidestepped into her path. She tried again, and he blocked her again, and again, and the same result.

She sighed as she handed him the bundle of lights. "You really are taking the fun out of this."

"Am I?" Killian asked with a smug smile.

Mary Margaret interrupted their conversation to yell something past them both, to David.

"Oh, David! We still need to take the mistletoe down too!"

Killian knew which doorway the mistletoe hung in almost too well- he'd seen David catch his wife standing there a few too many times- and it happened to be the very same doorway that Killian and Emma were now standing under.

"No," Emma said, "I already…."

She looked up at the ceiling almost confused, like she hadn't expected the mistletoe to be right where it had been for the last two weeks, so much so Killian almost didn't expect it to be there either. But Killian looked up too, and sure enough, there was the mistletoe, right above himself and Emma Swan.

"This is almost too good to be true," Killian thought. Fate had given him one last chance at a Christmas miracle.

"I thought I took that down," Emma said.

Killian swallowed the lump in his throat- it was now or never.

"Swan?"

"Yeah?"

"We're under the mistletoe," he said, trying not to chicken out as her eyes met his, "and there's this tradition…."

"Do Christmas traditions still count after New Year's?" Emma asked.

"I sure hope so." Killian thought.

"The last chance of the season," he said, "may I?"

Emma smiled and nodded, and Killian's heart skipped a beat as she said, "Yeah."

He closed his eyes and leaned forward, meeting her lips with his for the most perfect moment of his life. Her lips touching his was like a meteor shower, or a firework- beautiful, entrancing, dangerous- and done and over with way too soon. He pulled away, smiling, wishing he could've made that moment last longer, but not wanting to push her further than she was willing to go.

He thought his heart was beating so loud she could probably hear it, but realized instead that the sound was their friends clapping. He didn't turn to look at them though- in that moment, all he wanted to see was Emma.

"Is that the best you got?" Emma asked.

"What?" Killian asked.

"It's like you said," Emma said, taking from his hands the bundles of lights that had gotten them into this beautiful mess in the first place. She threw them aside, probably landing them somewhere near the tote they belonged in.

"What?"

"'Last chance of the season-'" she said, "might as well make it a good one."

She placed her hands on his neck, stood up on tiptoes so her lips were parallel with his, then whispered, "May I?"

Killian couldn't get out much more than a nod and a breath that sounded almost like a "yeah," not even seeing this moment coming in his wildest daydreams- Emma Swan asking to kiss him.

She slid her hands down to his collar and pulled him closer, drawing his lips down into hers in a kiss that blew the last one out of the water.

He placed his hands on her waist, trying to experience everything he could in this moment- his lips exploring hers, her body in his hands, the lingering taste of gingerbread in her breath, a subtle pine smell, her warmth- holding her closer than he'd ever dared dream she'd let him. He was so lost in the moment he didn't even hear their friends cheering around him as he wrapped one of his hands further around her side, resting her neck in his other, pulling her into a dip and holding her as tightly as he could, pulling her even closer as he kissed her.

For the past three months he'd been watching her from a distance, wishing he could tell her how much she meant to him, wishing he could even just take her hand, ask her to get coffee, hold her at a dance, walk her back to her dorm and kiss her goodnight. And now that he had her in his arms and had her lips on his, he had three months of catching up to do, and one kiss to do it in. Every moment spent pining from a distance equalled another ounce of passion and love he needed to communicate in this kiss.

But as all good things have to, this kiss came to an end. Emma pulled away, her hands still on his neck, her eyes still sparkling in reflection of his, her breath still lingering on his lips. They both breathed heavily, still lost in their own little world a moment longer, until he gently stood her upright again.

"Wow," he whispered, hoping his voice wouldn't be drowned out by the cheering of her friends around them. "Swan, that was…."

"I know," Emma whispered, a look in her eyes that said it still wasn't nearly enough.

But she shook her head and blinked back to reality, and he as well noticed the crowd of spectators around them. Then he looked back down to Emma, her cheeks flushed with the most perfect shade of red he'd seen that whole Christmas season.

She smiled as she let go of him, albeit a bit awkwardly, and he watched her walk away from him, not taking his eyes off her until she'd walked out the back door and disappeared from view. The rest of the group, apparently, had decided the show was over and got back to whatever they'd been doing before Killian's life changed forever like that.

Killian ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, leaning against the doorway to brace himself and his thoughts. He'd just kissed Emma Swan. He'd practically made out with her- and if he could do that, what was stopping him from finding a moment with her later, telling her how he felt, asking her if she wanted him to be something more to her.

He smiled as he took down that fateful mistletoe plant, now filled with hope that maybe things wouldn't be so normal when they got back to school- or maybe normal would be something even better now.

Maybe he hadn't missed his chance with Emma after all.

#captain swan #once upon a time #killian jones #emma swan #ouat #fanfiction #cs ff #david nolan #mary margaret blanchard #snowing #christmas #college au #modern au #first kiss #cw kissing

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captain-hen · 6 months

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20 Questions for fic Writers!

i was tagged by @lover-of-mine of mine, thank you!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

25!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

131,694

3. What fandoms do you write for?

i currently write only for 911, but i've also written fic for once upon a time!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

the feeling you can know so much (without knowing anything at all) — a 5x09 coda where eddie calls buck out on what he's doing with taylor 'cause you were never mine — a 5x14 coda where the instructor at the equestrian centre assumes that buck is chris' other dad dancing in a snow globe 'round and 'round — my very first 911 fic! it's just pure fluff where buck and eddie get together while buck is babysitting jee (who has a different name in the fic since it was written before 4B, rip) hustling for the good life (never thought i'd meet you here) — different first meeting AU where buck and eddie meet at adriana's wedding, pre-canon how long (till we call this love?) — post s6 finale, where buck and eddie fight over natalia and marisol; have a ton of misunderstandings, but eventually get together

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i haven't always been the greatest at responding, but i've been doing my best on all my latest fics, because people are just so kind and i always feel like they deserve a response :)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hm, i haven't really written fics that end unhappily...but humari adhuri kahani (our incomplete story), where buck and eddie don't end up together

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

hm, maybe hustling for the good life (never thought i meet you here) because buck and eddie get together a lot sooner and they actually communicate in this fic xD

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i vaguely remember once getting a nasty comment on an ouat fic, but that was the only one.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i don't, usually...in my recent fic, but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down), i wrote a very brief description of a sex scene, but i've never written more than that.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i've never written one

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

twice! one of them wasn't on ao3, but the other, humari adhuri kahani (our incomplete story) i co-wrote with @bieddiediaz and @queerdiaz!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

probably buddie xD but captain swan (ouat) comes pretty close!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

my buddie flower shop AU that i started a couple of months back, but never had the motivation to write lol

16. What are your writing strengths?

i think i have a strong grasp on characterization, which is something that people have often told me, and which is probably the most important thing to me while writing fic

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i'm...not Great at writing long fics xD most of my fics are less than 5k, and i have only a handful that have gone beyond 10k. i'm still struggling with the commitment and skill it takes to write a long fic

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i haven't tried to write in anything other than english, so i wouldn't know

19. First fandom you wrote for?

i think it was some anime fandom back when i was still going through that phase, but i barely remember it now

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

my most recent fic, but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down)! this fic is my baby and i poured so much into it, and the response to it has been so heartwarming :)

i don't know who's already done this, but no-pressure tagging: @tawaifeddiediaz @hattalove @henswilsons @messyhairdiaz @eddiebabygirldiaz and anyone else who wants to do this!

#neethu speaks #tag games

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downeystarkjr · 6 years

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ALREADY GONE - CAPTAIN SWAN AU - CHAPTER 10

Emma Swan was never one to believe in ghosts or in any superstitions of the kind. However, her beliefs are soon to be tested when she moves into the beautiful yet mysterious Jewel Cottage. The manor known to be the home haunted by Captain Killian Jones.

The story can also be read on AO3 here

(This is one of the two stories I was working on for the Captain Swan Big Bang 2017 - it’s still a WIP but I have quite a few chapters complete that I really wanted to share)

(PS. Thank you to @ab-normality for your priceless help in being my beta for this story so far!)

Other chapters found here: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Chapter 10

When Emma first arrived in Storybrooke, she had never expected she would find herself writing a ghost’s memoirs to help bring him justice. Life was quite different from America, it was far more peaceful in the seaside town, quieter with more beautiful views of the countryside. The American also loved Jewel Cottage, especially now that it had been furnished with a combination of Killian’s furniture and Emma’s.

There she was by the fire in the living room that evening, curled up on the couch with her notebook in hand to take notes on what Killian was telling her. The ghost opted to sit in his usual dark red arm chair near the fireplace, watching Emma with nothing but fondness in his eyes while Buckley sat down on the carpet in the middle of the room.

“So that’s the facts of your childhood finished, like where you were born, who your parents were and how you had a brother called Liam. Why don’t we include some things about what it was like for you as a child? Like some memories to allow the readers to relate to you and-…”

“Make me seem more human?” Killian asked, finishing Emma’s sentence by making an assumption regarding what she was about to suggest.

“I just think that the purpose behind your memoirs could make more of an impact if we ensure that the readers care about who you are and the man you were while you were still alive?” Emma expressed, giving a small shrug. She knew Killian wanted to out those who wronged him to help with his unfinished business. However, Emma was still oblivious to the identity of those who Killian sought revenge against but figured that the apparition she had befriended would open up to her more about his past as they worked more on his memoirs.

“You are the author after all, Swan,” the ghost shrugged in agreement to Emma’s suggestion. He was rather enjoying Emma’s company and found himself able to trust her with learning about his past. Hence why Killian chose Emma, the new inhabitant to his home, to write his memoirs. It did come as an advantage that the American blonde was already an established writer. “You could talk about how my mother was an unpublished writer who used to tell us stories while my brother would snuggle up to her at night with the fire burning in the fireplace,” Killian smiled fondly, reminiscing on the past. His happy childhood with his darling mother. “My brother Liam and I were always closer with our mother but at the same time we knew our father loved us even if he didn’t know how to express it towards us often,” he explained, glancing at the very fireplace he had been talking about which was providing heat to the room.

Emma wrote down her notes with a kind smile on her face as Killian continued to talk about some of the memories he had of his mother and brother. It was clear he adored his family growing up just by the way he was retelling the events of his past. She chuckled hearing the ghost tell her of a Jones family picnic to the beach for Liam’s birthday and felt her heart warm at the image of Killian’s mother tucking him into bed and tending to him during an illness as a child in the winter months. Killian made sure to tell Emma of his education, first with his governess and how upset he had been to start his education in public school.

“It must have been difficult to adjust to, having spent your childhood at home,” Emma said with sympathy, speaking of when Killian was sent to study at Eton. As had his brother a couple of years prior.

“Aye…Homesickness is blasted thing to be inflicted with,” Killian explained, recalling how much of a challenge it had been to get used to living in school boarding rooms which was quite a stark contrast to dwelling among the comfort of his mother’s love. “I was always quite studious and wanted to make my parents proud, but quite early on I became closed off,” he sighed with an uncomfortable frown. The poor child had spent nights crying for his mother which the other boys inevitably noticed and didn’t hesitate to bully him for.

“I can imagine,” Emma nodded and offered her acquaintance a smile. She could tell the story of his initial year in Eton wasn’t something he looked back on with great enthusiasm. “Wasn’t there anyone who you could confide in for help? Maybe your housemaster?

“Alas, Swan, my housemaster wasn’t exactly the most pleasant of souls,” the ghost noted after clearing his throat, “he would excuse the boys’ actions as being methods of toughening me up when my father and mother questioned my weight loss and bruises when he arrived to collect me for the winter holidays,” Killian continued and turned his gaze from the fire to Emma. “I couldn’t have been more relieved to be back home. My family were substantially wealthy as you can imagine with my father, Lord Brennan Jones, as a judge. My brother and I were fortunate to have toys, train sets and extensive collection of books to entertain ourselves with” he smile, remembering the games he and Liam would invent as children. Some of the toys, including Killian’s favourite childhood train set, were still preserved in the attic of Jewel Cottage.

“It was due to my family being in the higher ranks of the social class that allowed me the pleasure of meeting my most cherished friend James, whom you know as JM Barrie.” Killian went on to talk of his and James’ reluctance to adhere to the rules of the society in which they found themselves. They found nothing wrong with mingling with or befriending those who were from lower ranks. Killian credited his mother for being the one to embed such morals into his heart.

Emma had seen enough films and read several books to know that Victorian schools weren’t always the most pleasant of places for the young boys they provided education for. Especially those boys who showed even the slightest hint of weakness.

“Going back to your time at school, didn’t your parents do something to help you?” The author asked. From the way Killian spoke of his parents, Emma could tell he had been lucky to have a strong bond with them and that he had been raised in a loving household. “Surely their position could have impacted your school life? Making a more positive change for you?”

“Aye, they did, but it wasn’t as straightforward as that love,” Killian sighed with a sad smile gracing his features. He never liked boarding school and to this day he still had qualms against it. “I had to endure months of punishment before my parents realised there was something wrong with their second son,” he explained.

“Oh Killian...” Emma spoke out in a whisper. It broke her heart to try and imagine how life must have been for Killian and the other boys of his time who went through a similar ordeal.

“Aye, but don’t feel sorry for me Swan, I was fortunate to experience much happiness once I departed from Eton at the age of sixteen,” Killian replied, waving his hook in an assuring gesture. He chuckled a little, rather amused, at the look of confusion Emma gave towards him at the revelation of the age he left school.

“So you only went to Eton for five years? You didn’t stay on for college studies?” she asked with a tilt of her head, her blonde locks tied in ponytail like they always were while Emma worked on a writing project.

“Alas no, but let me explain,” Killian began and stood up to casually pace around the room as he told his tale. He always thought he was destined to live his life as a ghost alone trying to fend off anyone who dared set foot in his home. That was until he met Emma. It surprised the Captain how her very presence made him feel less alone than he was with just Buckley and his previous animal companions he looked after. He only realised the craving in his heart for the company of another person with whom he could spend time and share experiences and conversations with after kindling a friendship with Emma. She made Killian happy to be around her.

“The teachers and my housemaster mistook my symptoms of homesickness as me being a recalcitrant student, and deserving of the birch,” the ghost explained, placing his one hand on the sofa Emma was sitting on as he stopped behind it. “Don’t mistake it as a birch rod, it was rather like a cluster of birch branches that were bound together that resembled the head of a besom.”

“Ouch..” Emma took a sharp breath, imagining how painful it would have been to be hit with such a cruel piece of equipment. It still baffled the blonde as to how schools in the past used such extreme measures to instil discipline into their students. “Killian that’s awful, how schools could deliver punishments like that is just shocking. It’s a relief it doesn’t happen in this day and age but you did nothing to deserve that sort of treatment.”

“That’s true, children need help and support rather than being beaten if they are struggling, and you’re right, it’s a good thing that the school system has changed drastically since my childhood,” Killian nodded, sitting down on the couch as Emma moved her feet to give him space to sit down. “But I was lucky Swan, after seeing the school had not improved with their treatment and that my hands and back were scarred and bruised with the birch instead of providing me with the help I needed, my parents moved to London during the Easter holidays and my father used his position to his advantage by persuading the school to allow me to live with them but still remain a student. For my own sanity.”

Emma nodded slowly, gradually starting to understand, she couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the apparition. Biting her lip, she hesitantly reached out a hand to Killian and was surprised to actually feel his hand in hers. It wasn’t like holding another human’s hand, one of the biggest differences was how cold he felt to touch, not so much as cold as ice but like a cool breeze. Even for Emma, the sensation was complicated for her to describe with accuracy.

“Hey it’s alright, I know I wouldn’t have been able to cope as an eleven year old, torn apart from my home to live without my parents in a boarding school,” Emma offered as a way of her giving Killian comfort. It couldn’t be easy reliving the particularly painful memories Killian had experienced. “But what about college? Why didn’t you stay at Eton past the age of sixteen ?” she asked in a kind tone, looking up to Killian’s ocean blue eyes.

Killian was stunned by Emma’s actions but didn’t pull his one hand away. He felt the kindness of her touch and was reluctant to be apart from it as he gently held onto her hand in return. It shouldn’t have surprised him since he was able to pet Buckley, but this was the first time Killian had encountered human contact since becoming a ghost. “Oh Swan…” he whispered beneath his breath. The apparition couldn’t deny it any longer, the blonde American in his home filled his heart with a warm feeling Killian had been a stranger to for so long. Why else was he able to trust her with his house and the secrets of his past? However, Killian knew that he couldn’t express these new feelings to Emma.

Emma had made it clear she was not interested in starting a new relationship with a living man. He couldn’t expect her to harbour feelings for a ghost. Although, at the same time, Killian was confused by the emotions in his heart. Was it just fondness he had for her? Or his heart playing tricks on him and trying to fool him into thinking he was slowly developing feelings for the first human he had welcomed into his life since his death?

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Killian cleared his throat and smiled to try and hide that he was bothered by his thoughts. “When I turned sixteen, I was still living with my parents, and my mother missed living here in Storybrooke, and I was more than willing to move back here with my parents,” he explained, seeing Emma was still holding his hand. “Instead of attending college, my father hired a governess,” the ghost clarified with a fond expression in his eyes. “Moving back to Storybrooke was one of the happiest times in my life, for when I returned that summer at the end of my final year at Eton, I fell in love with my Milah, my childhood sweetheart.”

“Oh that’s adorable, so you were with your wife since you were teenagers to when she passed?” Emma asked in admiration for how faithful Killian was to his wife. If only she could have found a love like that. However, Neal was more interested in cheating on her than trying to make their relationship work. “Out of curiosity… when did you realise you had fallen for Milah? How did you know for sure she was the one?” Emma asked and closed her notebook. This wasn’t for the memoirs but a personal question Emma had. Clearly Killian was the one with more success in finding love, something Emma convinced herself she lost faith in. She couldn’t be hurt that way again, not by someone she loved and cared about. Being betrayed by Neal was enough.

“I knew quite early on that Milah was special, which was why I made sure to court her and impress her parents before anyone else could have the chance,” Killian chuckled and went on to explain to Emma of the measures he took to court his future bride, by taking her dancing, horse riding and sailing. He also mentioned of his correspondence with Milah during their courtship via written letters and of the day her father finally accepted for his only daughter to be intended for Killian once the two reached the age of nineteen. “We understood each other and wanted the same things, which only made our love grow stronger. I still recall how heart breaking it was for me to leave my Milah when I was deployed by the navy,” the ghost added, glancing over to see the time on the antique dark pine grandfather clock.

“I was actually going to ask you about that, your military career I mean,” Emma tilted her head curiously with her book open again. She didn’t care that it was getting late, she was far more interested in Killian’s tale than in sleeping at the moment. “With the medals I found in the attic, you must have been a celebrated Captain,” she smiled, wanting Killian to know she was impressed by what she had found. When she discovered the medals, Emma was keen to do her research what the different medals were. For an apparition who always seemed quite proud, Emma was surprised by how humble Killian was about his time in the Royal Navy. She had never heard him talk of his time as a Captain and it was a time of his life that Emma was quite interested about.

“There’s quite a lot I could say about my time in the Navy, but I’m afraid it will need more than a night to mention everything, and we’ve already discussed quite a lot about my past,” Killian explained, seeing Emma trying to stifle a few yawns. “Besides you need you rest,” he offered, not wanting the blonde to be too exhausted especially in her condition.

“Alright, we can pick this up again another time,” Emma reluctantly agreed, not bothering to hide her yawns anymore. With how tired she was, she was glad when Killian helped to put a blanket over her as she snuggled up on the sofa, laughing when Buckley jumped onto the sofa to join her for the night. “Goodnight Killian, and again, I promise we will bring those who’ve wronged you to justice,” she said tiredly, resting her head on the pillow.

“I have no doubt about that Swan, but for now you need to sleep,” Killian insisted kindly and crouched down by the couch. “Goodnight, love,” he smiled, resting a hand on Emma’s cheek as she fell asleep. “Sleep well darling,” the ghost whispered and kissed the back of her hand before making sure Emma was comfortable in her sleep and left the room, heading to his private library for the night.

Tagging a few users who might like the story. I’d love to know what you think! @yayimallamaagain @phiralovesloki @lenfaz @flipperbrain @cocohook38@hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke @fairytalesandtimetravel @aye-captn @captainswanbookclub @captainswanbigbang @goldengirlschildhood @themilahskillybear @the-corsair-and-her-quill @clockadile @wellhellotragic @killian-whump

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trafalgarlawfuturewife · 2 years

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Story -> Trafalgar Law invited you to the prom.

Warning -> Grammar, Mistakes, SFW, Weird, AU island!

Ship -> Y/N x Law

Announcement! -> If you see some mistakes i made please comment it or go to my profile and asked.

Its a beautiful summer and a nice place to stay with mugiwara and Law. You and Law were there because Luffy invited you both to go with them and have fun. Then the waiter let you to follow them to the VIP room and sit in rectangle Its very fancy, Big, Golden, Clean. Everyone(--Zoro, Sanji and Law) eyes turned wide and sparkles. The waiter let us sit and wait for the food to come. While waiting we start chatting.

`Its very nice place, Right nami-san? ´

`Yes y/n! Very! ´

Then you puts your head on the table and start to fall asleep. Suddenly you feel someone is carrying you. You opens your eyes and saw Sanji is carrying you form the back.

`Eh.? Sanji-san? ´

`Oh! your awake y/n-swan~ You miss out the dinner! and Torao is packing some food for you~ ´

`Oh..I see... '

Then you look at the back and saw everyone is walking. Suddenly, everyone saw a blue room. `Shambles! ´ He switched places with Sanji. Sanji were shocked that his back feeling lighter. He looked at the back and you were gone. So he run towards Law.

`What the fuck?! ´

You look at the floor and saw his sword. But the height is tall so you look at the front.

`Captain..? '

He pulls you in front and carrys you like a princess.

`Hello, Princes- ´

Before he finished the sentence you cover his face.

`Shut up. ´

Sanji were pissed by watching both of you being romantic in front of him so he walks slowly and goes to nami and robin.

- Few minutes later~ 😁

They have reach to their room. There is 5 rooms. So mean they have to split in to 2 and share room together.

First room - Luffy and Zoro ;)

Second room - Chopper and Usopp!

Third room - Sanji and Brook.

Forth room - Nami and Robin$

Fifth room - Law and you~

They go to their room and have some rest. Law puts you down at the bed. He pats your head and goes to the bathroom to shower. You stood up and start to walk around the room. You touched everything and how soft the bed...How nice the table and the whole room is...

- 10 minutes later~

Law goes out of the bathroom. You stares at his body with his such a nice tattoo at his body and hand. He walks over to the cabin and opens it. Since its your turn to go to the shower...You stand up and goes to the bathroom straight away. (Then next ofc you know what you do in the bathroom.).

- 13 minutes later!~

You shouted Law name so he goes to you and opens the door slidely a little bit.

`What y/n-ya? ´

`Take for me Captain. ´

He sighs. He goes to the cabin and opens it. He takes your shirt and pass it to you. You takes your shirt and closes the door. You start changing and goes out.

`Haha~ Fresh~ ´

You walk over to the window and look outside. It was beautiful. You look at the sky and it was getting dark so you closes the window and open the aircon. You takes the remote and opens the tv. You jumps the bed and lay down beside Law. You pulls his hand out, hugs his hand. He hugs you back and carry you to the side. You froze like a pillow so he puts his leg on top of you. You turn around and hugs him too. He start to fall asleep while your watching TV.

- 2 hours later~

You look outside and saw its dark already. So, you closes the TV and puts away the remote. You looked at his face that he have fallen asleep for so long. You leans on him and sleep.

- The next day~

You woke up, the room is still dark but only the bathroom light is open. So you sit down. Suddenly, you heard a knock from the door. You stand up and opens the door.

`Good morning y/n! ´

`Luffy? ´

`Yes! Btw where is Torao? ´

`Maybe in the bathroom showering? ´

`Oky! better get ready because we have good news! ´

You nodded and smiles at him. He pats your head and left. You closes the door. The bathroom door opens and saw Law goes out of the bathroom. You goes to the cabin again to take another shirt to wear.

`I heard a knock just now y/n-ya. Who was it? ´

`Oh. It was Luffy! He said we have to be fast because they have good news. ´

Law kept quite and changed. Its your turn to go to the bathroom and shower.

- Duh~ Ofc its 20 minutes later :3

You and Law come out of your own room and goes to the dinner table.

`Hey guys. Whats the good news? ´

Everyone looks at the back to look at you and Law. Sanji stood up and goes to you slowly with his heart shape eyes. But luffy pulls sanji shoulder and him flying to you. He landed on the floor and shows the paper.

`Here! one is yours and one is yours Torao! ´

You and him look through the paper.

`Prom...? It says?... ´

`Yes! Maybe we can celebrate with other people! ´

Luffy smile bright to Them. You start chuckling and accepted. Law looks at you and holds your hand.

`If you accept it...Then will you go to the prom with me? ´

Nami and Robin start laughing. Zoro just look at you both while drinking his sake. Sanji start to become depressed. Chopper, Usopp and Brook start clapping. You look at him and accept him with a big smile. Luffy start clapping and congrats you both.

`Alright guys! lets find some outfit to use for prom! ´

`Eh? Then what about you Luffy? Why dont we invite Boa hancock? ´

`Hmm...Nah its fine! ´

`Hey its not! Prom must have a partner! ´

`Zoro! ´

`NO!!! IT MUST BE GIRL AND BOY LUFFY!! ´

`Oh right. Maybe we can invite Hancock. ´

You start smirking, you let go of law hands and goes to the room and start calling Hancock.

`Yo Hancock. ´

`Yes hun~ ´

`I have good news~ ´

`I wonder what is it~ ´

`That you will be partnering Luffy for prom TONIGHT! ´

She start simping in the Snail telepohone. You start laughing.

`Alright Alright. Get ready for what are you gonna use for tonight. Bye Hancock. ´

`B-bye!!~ ´

You puts the phone down and goes to the kitchen.

`So? What is it? ´

`SHe say yes. ´

Everyone sighs and ignores.

`Ofc she say yes. ´ - All( - Luffy and you. )

`Alright guys! Lets just get ready our outfit. But Nami and Robin lets go shopping~ ´

Nami suddenly hugs you. You pats her head. But then Robin pulls you both outside and start shopping. The boys were just being weird like a statue.

`Im going. ´

Law left to go the his/your room back to find some nice outfit to use for prom. Luffy pulls zoro by force and go to their room to find outfit too. Usopp, Chopper and Brook goes to Usopp/Chopper room. Sanji go solo how sad for him.

- Few minutes later with You,Nami and Robin.

You and them have been walking like an hours already but its only 20 minutes of walking. But suddenly Nami pulls you and Robin to go one of the shop. When ya´ll have got in...It was so big and such a nice dress for prom. You start exploring.

`Hey hey y/n calm down! I will find it for you! A perfect one for you and Torao~ ´

You flushed red all of a sudden.

`Hey were just friends! ´

`Were just friends. Thats what she says. ´

Robin start chuckling and pats you and Nami head.

`Ara, Its time now. You better hurry and try it out. The prom starts at 8pm. ´

You both snapped. When you trys to walk to the other side. Robin pulls your hand and let you to sit down so they can find you a nice dress to fit you.

`Urghh, Why cant i find my own. ´

`No no. Your rare hun. ´

`What! Im not even rare! im a normal perso- ´

Then Nami came up with such a nice dress.

`W-what... Its so ShInNy! ´

`ik is it nice? ´

`Yes! ´

The dress colour is Yellow, White and Some gold( IMAGINE IT! ). You takes the dress and goes to the trying room.

- 1 minutes later.

You go out and shows to Nami and Robin. They start clapping at you softly. Then the counter goes to you.

`Wow, its beautiful it fits you. You wanna buy it? ´

Nami says yes and they brought it. So its Nami and Robin turned.

- Alright alright Lets skip till 8pm.

You goes to the room and opens the shopping that you brought(just open). The boys go to the boys room and change. Nami and Robin is in the bathroom showering. You looks at it. You think that it wont fit on you so you take some rest first before you goes in the bathroom. Nami goes out.

`Hey hun, Are you oky? ´

You sit up.

`Yes Nami-san. ´

`Ah! OKy! SO better get ready your husband is waiting~ ´

You stand up and ignores. But in your heart your exploding(wtf..). Robin got out and smiles at you. You smiles at her back. You went straight to the bathroom.

- Few minutes later

You got out and saw Nami and Robin has changed already. You start smiling.

`Haha! You both look great! Btw who are you going with? ´

Nami sighs. `Ofc its Sanji-san... ´

Robin chuckles. `Ill go with Zoro (no ship.) ´

`Oh- Mkay... ´

So you goes towards the changing room.

`Oh yeah pass me my dress Nami-san! ´

`Alright here it is.´

Nami passes to you. You took it and start wearing it.

- 3 Minutes later.

You got out and turns around. Nami and Robin Smiles at her.

`Cant wait to show it to your future husband!! ´

`his not my future husband!! ´

You fold your hand. Robin and Nami pulls you and goes to the enterance of the prom. WHen you look around. You saw Law. He looks very gentleman and hot-.

`I-is that you Law- I mean Captain- ´

He start smirking and pulls his hand out.

`Shall we my lady? ´

You start blushing and puts your hand over him and start walking in together. Nami and Robin at the back smirking. Then they all come.

Sanji and Nami goes in second.

Zoro puts his hand in the pocket and let Robin outs her hand over him and start walking. Luffy waits for Hancock outside.

`Shes so late!! i cant wait to go in and grab some MEAT! ´

Then she run towards Luffy and hugs him.

`Sorry Darling!~ ´

`Your so slow! ´

She still dosent care and holds his hand. Luffy ignores and rush inside to get his meat. Usopp, Brook uses as a girl (wage hair and dress but inside have his own shirt.) Chopper becomes big and become like a gentleman with 2 `Girls´ With him. When they got in. They start laughing to death. Zoro looks at them.

`What an stupid weird idea is that. ´

Robin start chuckling. Nami and Robin pulls their hand out. Hancock let go of Luffy hand and he start running towards the food. You and Law sit beside together with some random people. Then the girl suddenly appear and holds Law hand. She sit beside him.

`H-hey whats your name? ´

Law looks at you. You look at the hand their holding with such a bad stare. But when you notice that Law is looking at you. You smiled at him like a normal person. Law sighs. He pulls his Hand and sits near to you. He touches your lap.

`Dont be jealous y/n-ya. ´

The girl got jealous and sit at the other side. You holds his hand.

`Alright...I wont be... ´

He smiles at you.

`woah...Romance... ´

You was shocked and look at the back.

`what the hell Usopp,Chopper, Brook. ´

`HAHAHA!!´

They run away when you found out already. You sigh and leans on Law shoulder. He pats your head. The girl stood up and goes to you.

`G-GO AWAY RANDOM WOMAN! HE KNOW ME WELL! ´

Law looks at her.

`Ch, Ignore her y/n-ya. Dont do it worst. Its prom mkay alr. ´

You nodded at him and ignores her. She suddenly, pulls your chair and you falls. Law got angry and glares at her. She apologises and helps you up. The music starts when you stand up. He helps you clean the back of the dress and stand up.

`Your oky now y/n-ya? ´

`Yeah... ´

Law smiles and pulls you. He goes in the middle of the tower and start dancing together. Everyone looks at you both dancing.

`Do you know how to dance y/n-ya? ´

`Maybe...A little... ´

`Alright then. ´

He holds your hips and you got closer to him. You puts your hand around his his neck and start dancing slowly. Then some of the people join too. You and him looks at together and kissed.

`What the- Suddenly did it... ´

`Haha~ You did it with your own Captain...Y/n-ya... ´

You leans on him. He can even feel your heart beat is beating fast. He hugs you back and pats your head.

------------------------------------Romance End------------------------------------------

-> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you like it.

-> PLease comment how it is and i appreciate it honeybees~

#trafalgar d water law #monkey d luffy #trafalgar law #one piece #mugiwara #law #luffy #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #onepiece x reader #TrafalgarLawSupremercy ;)#Law x you #law x y/n #law x you #trafalgar law x y/n

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attllhak · 2 years

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Warriors Swan Lake AU: Soldiers - Legend

@tortilla-of-courage hey look I’ve got more for the Swan Lake AU. And since this is now apparently a project I’ve got, I suppose if anyone else wants to be on the tag list to let me know.

This story was actually written with both Legend and Twilight, but I figured that it’d make more sense to split it up into two posts. This is basically me trying to figure out backstories for Legend and Twilight for this AU. So here’s where Legend came from and how he ended up where he did, thus resulting in the whole rabbit thing. (Please don’t take his opinion of Warriors to heart. They start getting along later.)

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Legend had never wanted to be a soldier.

There weren’t really many other job prospects for a noble’s bastard though, so he signed up. Figured he’d do the bare minimum and skate by until he could retire early like his uncle did.

He hadn’t expected everyone else to be bad at their jobs.

It was actually somewhat embarrassing.

Fortunately, the fact he was a better fighter and his noble blood slid him up the ranks to a low, low placement with the royal guard. This was good for Legend, since the royal guard was pretty chill comparative to the rest of the military, and so he wouldn’t have to do much.

Of course that low, low placement had put him with the crown prince, who ground on Legend’s nerves more than anyone else ever had. He was overconfident, cocky, pretentious, materialistic and spent a lot of time in front of a mirror.

There were days Legend wanted to strangle the royal brat.

He didn’t though, because he liked his captain.

Captain Twilight was a good man. Down to earth, simple, easy going. It was a very sharp contrast to the regular folk running through the castle, which was nice. Plus, the captain was the only person in the military beyond Legend who actually seemed decent at his job. It was no wonder the king picked Twilight to keep his son safe.

And Legend was pretty sure trying to strangle Prince Warriors would get Captain Twilight in trouble.

He did know he wasn’t going to risk his life for the brat. For the King or Queen, sure. He liked the ruling couple. But their son wasn’t worth the effort.

Of course, he ended up being wrong about that when push turned into shove.

Legend pushed himself to his feet, shaking his head to scatter raindrops. Stupid ambush, stupid storm, stupid witch.

Well, the witch wasn’t stupid. Attacking during a heavy thunderstorm was a very clever tactic.

He still wanted to call her stupid.

Captain Twilight stood firmly in front of Prince Warriors, who was leaning against the wheel of the broken carriage they’d been travelling in. The prince was still mostly sitting, his fine clothes now smeared with mud and soaked with rainwater. His fancy circlet was a few feet away in the mud.

It was the first time Legend had ever seen the prince out of his element. Usually the young royal was so proud all the time, standing tall and drawing eyes, revelling in the attention he got.

But now, now the prince was not proud. He was curling away from the witch, all sense of pride and confidence gone, like he was trying to disappear into the muck. The missing circlet from his brow suddenly made him seem a bit younger, closer to his actual age, though still a few years older than Legend.

He looked like anyone else in the world, or at least the circles Legend’s family ran in. And he looked terrified.

Eyes wide and unblinking, shaking a bit as he clung to the wheel. Legend wasn’t even sure the poor guy was breathing. This might have been the very first time the prince had ever been in real danger, the first time his life was actually threatened. He looked oddly small with all the mud on his clothes while he curled away in fear.

Captain Twilight remained where he was, standing firmly in defense of the prince.

No one else was around, footprints in the mud saying the other soldiers had run. Cowards.

Part of Legend debated running too. He’d already decided he wasn’t risking his life for the prince. He didn’t care about what happened to the royal brat, he didn’t.

Except he was lying to himself. As annoying as he found the prince, the man had made an effort to at least know who Legend was. And he kept trying even when Legend kept rebuffing him. He had even wished Legend a happy birthday (and how the prince knew when his birthday was still baffled Legend), and had made a point to get him the day off for it. The prince had made a point to know all of the members of his guard this way, and at some point he’d weaseled under Legend’s skin.

Legend did care about the prince, as much as he hated that he did.

And besides, he wasn’t going to leave Captain Twilight to fight this crazy bitch alone.

He made it up to the captain’s side, drawing his own sword and shield.

The witch narrowed her eyes at him, and he could feel the prince’s eyes on his back too. He ignored them both.

He was just doing his job, nothing more.

#linked universe #lu #lu legend #lu twilight #lu warriors #swan lake au #so yeah here's legend's backstory #he's the bastard son of an unimportant noble #and he joined the army with the specific intent of retiring early #and now he's a rabbit #so that didn't work out for him #clearly #and i made twilight a captain #so he basically got warriors' job in canon #which amuses me #and don't worry he and warriors do end up getting along better #they have a lot of time to bond now that they're stuck together as animals at the lake #so by the time wild shows up they are friends #the bickering is affectionate #twilight counts this as a win #he did a lot of refereeing in the first weeks #he's tired #anyways here's how legend ended up with warriors when the whole curse thing happened #oh! and i finally have designs for them!#i don't describe them here since it doesn't fit with the story #and i'm not just shoving in random descriptions #but i do have designs for legend and twilight now!#much thanks to my best friend being good at outfit design!#they managed to make them look like soldiers while still making my original description of them fit #i very much love how they managed it

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 2 years

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Fridays—Chapter 171: The Analysis, chapter 4

Pairing: Captain Swan

Summary: A series of unrelated, fluffy one shots featuring Killian Jones and Emma Swan and the relationship that makes us all swoon. Will contain both canon and AU stories. My contribution to Operation Rainbow Kisses and Unicorn Stickers (aka, my attempt to drown out the season 4 finale angst with ridiculous levels of fluff.)

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (40) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52) (53) (54) (55) (56) (57) (58) (59) (60) (61) (62) (63) (64) (65) (66) (67) (68) (69) (70) (71) (72) (73) (74) (75) (76) (77) (78) (79) (80) (81) (82) (83) (84) (85) (86) (87) (88) (89) (90) (91) (92) (93) (94) (95) (96) (97) (98) (99) (100) (101) (102) (103) (104) (105) (106) (107) (108) (109) (110) (111) (112) (113) (114) (115) (116) (117) (118) (119) (120) (121) (122) (123) (124) (125) (126) (127) (128) (129) (130) (131) (132) (133) (134) (135) (136) (137) (138) (139) (140) (141) (142) (143) (144) (145) (146) (147) (148) (149) (150) (151) (152) (153) (154) (155) (156) (157) (158) (159) (160) (161) (162) (163) (164) (165) (166) (167) (168) (169) (170) (172) (173) (174)

(ao3) (ff.net)

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Note: Big thank you to @jrob64 for making the above art for this story!

Emma took one last look in the mirror, fluffing her hair and touching up her lipstick. She nodded, pleased with the look she’d managed to achieve. She’d taken far longer than she’d like to admit choosing her dress for tonight’s date with Killian. She wanted to look nice, but keep it a touch on the casual side, not wanting to scare him away anymore than she no doubt already had with her paper.

She’d landed on a yellow, thigh length shirt dress with tiny black polka dots, black buttons down the front and a thin black belt. During class, she’d caught him looking at her hair more than once, and so she’d opted to leave it down, beach waves teased the slightest bit for some extra volume.

She imagined him running his fingers through her tresses, letting the hair slide gently through his fingers as he brought her toward him for a kiss. Would he be that bold on a first date? She rather doubted it, but she wanted it. Oh, how she wanted it.

There was so much she wanted, and she hoped, given enough time and enough dates, she’d get all of it.

Emma supposed she should be a touch freaked out that she was already thinking about long term with Killian, but she wasn’t. All of this felt right, and she couldn’t wait to begin the relationship that she hoped would span many, many years.

With one last tossel of her hair, Emma turned off the bathroom light and stepped into the common room of the apartment. She couldn’t help but chuckled as she came face to face with Mary Margaret and Ruby, huge smiles plastered across their faces.

Mary Margaret raised a camera to her eyes and snapped away as Emma came fully into the room.

“What are you doing?” Emma asked with a laugh.

“Somebody has a big date tonight,” Mary Margaret said in a singsong voice, “and I thought it needed to be documented with photos.”

Emma rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Don’t oversell it. It’s just a first date.”

“It is not just a first date, and you know it,” Ruby countered. “You’re head over heels for that man already, and if what I saw at lunch this afternoon was any indication, he’s just as far gone as you.”

Emma felt her stomach swoop. She couldn’t deny it. She was far gone for Killian. “Yeah, well, don’t you dare scare him off or there might not end up being a second date.”

“I don’t know, Emma,” Mary Margaret said, snapping another picture from a different angle. “Ruby’s right. Killian does seem to be really into you. I have a feeling it would take a lot more than our good-natured ribbing to scare him off.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a tentative knock at the door, and Mary Margaret squealed, clapping her hands in delight. “He’s here!”

Emma shook her head, smiling at her friends’ antics, feeling her heart begin to pound in anticipation of the night ahead. She opened the door, and promptly lost any and all train of thought she might have had.

Killian looked amazing. Dark, black jeans, royal blue button up, black sports coat, hair artfully mussed. He grinned a touch self-consciously as he held a single, long-stemmed red rose out to her. Emma felt a rush of desire, the strongest urge to simply pull him toward her and kiss the holy hell out of him.

Probably not the best way to start the date, although, if she had anything to say about it, that urge would certainly play itself out at some point during the evening.

“Swan,” he breathed, “You look…”

She grinned at him. “I know,” she said cheekily.

He chuckled, stepping forward to offer her the rose he carried. She took it, bringing it gently to her nose and inhaling the luscious aroma. “Thanks.”

After taking a moment to put the rose in water, Emma grabbed a coat . “Shall we?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he answered, guiding her from the apartment with a hand to the small of her back.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Ruby called from her perch on the sofa.

“Pretty sure there’s nothing you wouldn’t do, Rubes,” Emma answered with a laugh.

Her friend winked at her. “Exactly.”

With another laugh, and a shake of her head, Emma stepped out the door, sharing a smile with Killian.

“Sorry about them,” Emma said as they walked down the flight of stairs and Killian gestured to a black chevelle. He led her to the passenger side, gallantly opened the door, and helped her inside. “They mean well. They’re just a little…much…sometimes.”

He smiled fondly at her as he slid into his seat behind the wheel and started the engine. “They only want your happiness, Swan, and I certainly can’t fault them for that. I…I only hope I can provide that for you.”

He was so self-deprecating, and had such a low opinion of himself. They’d need to work on that. One day she hoped to show him how very much he mattered.

“You’re already succeeding on that front,” she reassured. His resulting smile was utterly delighted.

“So,” Killian said, turning toward her. “Where are we headed, Swan?”

“I booked us reservations at that little Italian restaurant downtown,” Emma said. “Belle Notte, I think it’s called.”

“Never been there,” Killian said with a nod, pulling away from his parking spot on the street and heading in the direction she’d indicated, “but I’ve heard it’s quite the romantic spot.”

“I hope so,” Emma answered. “I was hoping to pull out all the stops and really make an impression on this date.”

The smile he gave her was nothing short of absolute adoration. “Emma, I assure you. You can’t help but make an impression. I’ve no doubt the smile wouldn’t leave my face even if you’d planned on staying in and eating cold left-overs whilst wearing sweats.”

The drive to the restaurant was short, only a few minutes, and they filled the time with small talk. Once parked, Killian hurried to her side of the car to open the door, and after he’d shut it behind her, she reached out and took his hand, lacing their fingers. He looked startled for a moment, but he didn’t pull away. Indeed, after a moment, he squeezed her hand, a delighted grin joining the twin spots of color on his face.

A smiling hostess showed the two of them to their table, and true to form, Killian held her seat for her before taking his own.

“Such a gentleman,” she murmured, reaching over and taking his hands in both of hers as soon as they were situated. She couldn’t help herself, just wanted to touch him, be connected to him. This pull she felt between them was so strong, so irresistible it almost scared her.

Almost.

But she felt so good, so utterly and incandescently happy being here with him, that there was no room for fear or any other negative emotion.

“I strive to always be a gentleman, love,” he said. “My brother taught me the importance of treating a woman with respect.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother!” Emma said, caressing his hand with her thumb.

He glanced aside, the shadows filling his eyes for just a moment. “He passed some years back.”

She felt like an absolute heel. “Killian, I’m sorry,” she said. “If I’d known, I’d never have brought it up.”

He smiled gently at her, waving away her concerns. “Not at all, Swan,” he said. “It was long ago. The pain has faded enough that I can remember him fondly.”

A waitress stopped by their table, giving them menus and listing the specials of the night. As soon as she’d walked away, Emma turned toward Killian. “Should I order us some drinks?”

He glanced aside, scratching at the back of his ear. “No, I…I don’t think so.”

“Afraid you’ll find me even more irresistible after a few libations?” she flirted.

He reddened further, even as he grinned. “No,” he answered. “I’m fairly certain it’s not possible for me to find you any more irresistible than I do right now. You, love, are extraordinary.”

This time Emma’s cheeks reddened as she smiled at the compliment.

“It’s just…” he went on, looking uncomfortable again. “I’m sort of…allergic…to alcohol. Never touch the stuff.”

It was odd. He seemed beyond embarrassed to admit the fact, perhaps even ashamed. She shrugged. “It’s no big deal. We don’t need booze to make for an enjoyable night.”

“Really?” he asked, eyes widening. “I’ve endured more than my fair share of mockery for my preference for goats milk over hard liquor.”

There it was again, his low opinion of himself. It was long past time to begin moving him past that.

“Killian,” she said, lacing their fingers and squeezing his hands. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You are…honestly, you’re kind of amazing.”

He colored even more. “I’m not so sure about that…”

“Well, I am,” she said firmly. “So how about you take my word for it? Whoever it was in your past that made you feel less-than was an idiot, and they didn’t have a clue what they were missing.”

His eyes softened at her words, something big and overwhelming–gratitude? Hope?--shining from them.

“I have to admit, goat’s milk is kinda a weird substitute for alcohol,” she chuckled, “but hey. To each their own.”

Dinner was an enjoyable affair. The food was good, and the conversation was even better. As they talked and laughed, sharing tidbits about their lives, their hopes and dreams, Emma found herself enjoying everything about Killian. It was more than just the animalistic attraction she felt toward him. She genuinely liked him; enjoyed his company; felt that above and beyond the romantic feelings they might have for each other, they could become deep and lasting friends.

Emma knew that regardless of what their relationship might bring–whether it worked out or didn’t–she wanted to keep him in her life.

When dinner finished, neither of them wanted the evening to come to a close, and so they opted to go to a local park, holding hands as they strolled through the nature pathways under the stars. It was a magical night, with romance in the air, though Emma suspected there was truly nothing special about the night or the air. It was the man she was with. He brought the butterflies just with his smile.

When had she gotten so cheesy? She was so into him it was ridiculous.

By the time the evening chill began to descend upon them, they returned to his car, knowing the end of the date was fast approaching.

He didn’t start the car immediately, instead gazing sightlessly down at the steering column, looking like he was warring within himself. Finally he turned to look at her, and there was trepidation in his eyes. He seemed to be girding up his courage to say something to her, and Emma felt a hint of unease.

Didn’t he enjoy tonight as much as she did?

“Emma…:” he began, drawing out her name.

“Killian, whatever it is, just tell me,” she said, feeling the unease grow at his strange behavior. “If you aren’t into me or whatever, it’s okay. I can handle it.”

His eyes widened. “I’m making a right mess of this,” he said. “Of bloody course I’m into you. This has been…well, it’s been the most enjoyable evening I’ve spent in years. It’s just…remember how I told you I don’t, um, pillage and plunder on the first date?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’s…um…it’s more than that,” he admitted. “I’ve actually…well, I’ve never slept with a woman. None of my past dates have ever gotten that far. And…I just hope it’s not a problem for you if we take things slowly. It’s not that I’m not attracted to you. Gods, but I am! It’s just…”

He broke off, shrugging self-consciously.

Her heart turned over, the tenderness overwhelming her when he glanced aside.

She reached up, turning his face toward her, meeting his eyes. “Killian, trust me, it’s not a problem. I’m not exactly all that experienced either.”

“You’re not?” he asked. “A woman as beautiful and desirable as you?”

She smiled gently at him. “I mean I’ve had long make out sessions, some heavy petting, that sort of thing, but I’ve never, you know, given all of myself to any man.”

He looked surprised, but he reached up and took her hand, squeezing gently.

“It’s not that I’m some sort of prude or something,” she said. “It’s just…”

How did she explain this?

“Aye?” he prompted. “It’s just what?”

“Killian, I told you I grew up in the foster system, right?”

He nodded.

“I never met my parents. Have no idea who they are or why they gave me up,” she said, “but I like to imagine they had this epic love story, that they were like, I don’t know, Snow White and Prince Charming or something. I like to imagine they didn’t want to give me up, but something–some outside force or curse or something–separated us, and one day I’ll find them again, and I’ll be inspired by their love for the ages–both for each other and for me.”

He cupped her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

“I know it’s stupid,” she said, “and I’m not naive. I’m sure the truth is nothing like that, but…I wish it could be. When I think about having sex with a guy, I want it to be like that fairy tale I imagine for my parents. I want it to mean something, not just be the scratching of an itch, not just something you do because you’re dating somebody or because you find the other person hot. When I sleep with a guy, I want it to be because I am truly, genuinely in love with him. So no. I have no objection to us taking this thing as slowly as you want.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They stood awkwardly before her apartment door a few minutes later. Emma had never wanted a night to end less, and yet she knew if she invited him inside she would find it very difficult to abide by his desire to take things slowly.

The question was, just how should they bring this evening to a close?

Killian shuffled his feet awkwardly one to the other, looking aside, and Emma could read him well enough by now to know if anything more was going to happen tonight, she’d need to be the one to make it happen.

Every fiber of her being wanted something more, and as she’d never been one to stand on ceremony, she went for it, grabbing him by his lapels and dragging him to her. She’d surprised him; she could tell, and for the barest fraction of a second, he froze, but then he was kissing her back, tentatively bringing one hand to the back of her head and holding her to him, wrapping the other arm around her waist and pulling her close.

From the first touch of her lips to his, it was like a fire erupted within her. This was bliss. This was heaven, but she needed more.

Opening her mouth, she swiped her tongue against the seam of his lips, and he gasped in response. She took full advantage of the moment, plunging her tongue within the confines of his mouth. His resulting moan was the single most sensual thing she’d ever experienced in her entire twenty-two years of existence.

She pulled him even closer, so close that she could feel the rumble of his moans against her chest, could feel the evidence that though his mind and heart wanted to take things slowly, his body very much did not.

It was time to end this–unfortunately–before they both completely lost their heads and started going at it right out here in the open. With great difficulty, Emma pulled her mouth free, resting her forehead against his, because she needed a minute.

(More than a minute, really. More like a lifetime, but it was far too early in the relationship to have those kinds of thoughts.)

For several moments, they merely stood there, foreheads pressed together, both breathing so heavily they sounded as though they’d sprinted up ten flights of stairs. Finally, Killian took a step backwards and smiled, looking into her eyes with awe.

“That was…” he began.

“Even better than I imagined when I wrote about it,” she said with a delighted giggle.

“Aye,” he agreed, his smile, if possible, widening even more.

She reached over, ran her hands from his shoulders down to his hands, linking their fingers, and stepping back into his space. She wanted nothing more than to surge up and take his lips again–kissing Killian Jones was addicting as hell–but with restraint she felt she really deserved a medal for, she resisted.

“May I ask you something?” she murmured instead.

“Of course.”

“Will you go out with me again?”

His smile grew, and really, what more answer did she need?

After murmuring goodnight, Emma slipped inside, leaning back against the door, closing her eyes and smiling in utter rapture. She’d told him she wanted a fairy tale, and this evening had been as close to one as she could ever imagine getting. Her heart was so full, she doubted it could contain another drop of joy.

Perhaps this was the infatuation stage of the relationship. Perhaps things would eventually cool down to something of a slow burn between them, but she was determined to bask in the joy of falling in love for as long as she was able.

“Looks like someone had a good date,” Ruby said from her spot on the sofa.

Emma looked over and barked out a laugh. Both Ruby and Mary Margaret sat on the sofa, excited smiles on their faces, looking every bit like parents waiting up for their daughter after her prom.

“Nah, it wasn’t a good date,” Emma said with a happy sigh as she plopped herself down on the couch in between her two best friends. “It was quite possibly the best date in the history of dating.”

“Tell us everything,” Mary Margaret said excitedly. “I want all the details.”

And that was a request Emma was more than happy to agree to.

Notes:

–I accept no responsibility for the cavities you may have gotten from the ridiculously sugary fluffiness of this chapter. I just wanted to try to capture the joy and euphonia of the very beginning of a relationship.

–In canon, I loved how supportive Killian was of Emma, how much he believed in her and built her up at every turn. But at the same time, I kind of hated that we didn’t get as much of Emma building up Killian. I get it; I really do. Her walls being as high as they were, it was very difficult for her to let her guard down enough to do so, but I wanted to kind of reverse the roles in this au. Killian was the one who needed to be supported and believed in and built up, and Emma was more than happy to do it.

–BTW, in this universe, there is no Neal, because 1. In my opinion any universe where Neal does not exist is a good universe and 2. While this version of Emma has some walls, she doesn’t have as many as in canon. In my opinion, in canon Emma’s difficult upbringing in the foster system of course scarred her, but it was what Neal did–not only leaving her but framing her for his crimes–and its subsequent consequence–being forced to give up her son–that truly cemented the walls around her heart.

–I have an exciting announcement for you! As you all know, smut is not my thing, and I don’t feel comfortable writing it, but jrob64 has agreed to take up this story universe and write a companion piece in which we get a glimpse of just what it was that Emma wrote in her mistaken paper–and we get to see Emma and Killian act them out. You can find her story here

NEXT CHAPTER-->

#cs ff #captain swan fluff #cs fluffy fridays #fluffy fridays #my fanfiction #the analysis

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ad1thi · 3 years

Text

underrated stevetony fics rec list (P1)

i feel like a lot of really good stevetony fics get swept under the rug because this is such a big fandom and sometimes people miss out on quality content?? so this is a rec list of some of the stevetony fics i feel like everybody should have read/ be reading

Edit (31.12.2020): this got very long (i had almost 50 fics on my list, so ive decided to split this list into two parts. part 2 will be out soon!!)

Edit (20.02.2021): part 2 is out now!!

picture me in the trees: @ifmywishescametrue

Tony and Steve were childhood friends that almost became more, but Tony moved and they lost their chance. Thirteen years later, a chance meeting brings Tony back into Steve's life.

Free: @iwanttopizzamanyou

"Steve reads, and the words dance in front of his eyes, because while this used to be his dream, what he wanted, all he can think about is how this Hell will soon become his full time life."

Steve discovers fame, with fans waiting for him in the lobby and girls passing him their numbers after the shows. It used to be what he wanted, he supposes. Except his future managers keep asking more and more from him, and he's not sure his old life will survive. Tony is ready to help, and compromise, but Steve maybe isn't anymore.

making it work: @/ironarm

“Just tell him you don’t want to see him anymore,” Clint replies, finishing the end of his burger and starting to crumple up the wrapper, “It’s not like you love him or anything.”

“Clint, if I thought I could get rid of him about a week ago, I would have. But for some fucked up reason, I can’t lie to him. It’s like, I see those baby blue eyes, and bam. Whatever barrier that I built up from childhood trauma is gone.”

Clint chokes on the last piece of his burger, almost resisting the urge to smack Tony on the side of his head.

Tony was a fucking idiot.

Boys Like Us: @naferty

The video had been a mistake. One of the biggest mistakes he had ever done in his life, and considering Tony Stark had done a bunch of shit in his younger years, and even older years, that was saying something.

It was just that none of those things were as embarrassing as that video.

He blamed Clint for everything

Stained Fingertips: @thesoundofnat

“I don’t really believe in magic,” he said, clearing his throat. “But I’m almost certain you’re a goddamn wizard, Steve Rogers.”

Steve would remember those words for the rest of his life.

(Or, Steve is maybe slightly obsessed with drawing Tony. Not that Tony minds.)

Inhale, Ex-Sail: @summerpipedream

"Rich pirates decked out in top-of-the-line black market gear,” grumbled Tony, ”why don’t I have the budget to make those again?’

Rhodey inched back so that he and Tony were back-to-back. “We’re apparently law abiding citizens now, which means having to pay taxes.”

Tony scowled. “Urg, right. Remind me why I wanted to do that again?”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “What was it you called him last time? Your sweet tart? Your apple pie in the sky? The wind beneath your wings? Hopefully he’ll fly here fast enough so we don’t get killed. Or worse, mugged.”

Tony Stark Bingo K1 - AU: Steampunk

As Constant As A Star: @atsadi

The Swan Princess AU

As young children, Prince Anthony and Princess Natasha of neighboring Midgardian kingdoms are betrothed, and spend their summers together every year until they are wed. Tony adores his headstrong friend Nat: it’s her scowly little companion Steve he’s not thrilled about at first. But soon Steve goes from being a thorn in Tony’s side to being his dearest friend – and much, much more than that. Despite Steve feeling the same way about Tony, the pair still dance around each other for years as Steve struggles to accept his feelings for another man: especially one already betrothed to another. Not to mention that Tony is a prince, and Steve is nothing but a squire.

But before they can make peace, Tony is kidnapped and dragged into the beginnings of another conflict in the nearby magical kingdom of Asgard – he really hates magic. With his potential usefulness diminishing by the day, Tony races to escape even as Steve, Natasha, and their friends race to find him and bring him home.

And—just to make matters worse—Tony has been trapped by a powerful spell and turned into a swan, of all creatures. He really, really hates magic.

Always Yours: @hollyjollyhope

Getting kidnapped is normal for them, at this point. But there's nothing normal about this.

And suddenly, Tony has a choice to make.

Oxeye Daisy (patience): @s-horne

“You make me want things I can’t have.”

Steve startled at the voice from behind him and turned around to see Tony standing in the kitchen doorway. He stared straight at Tony for a long moment. The room was quiet, time stretching out in a thick and uncomfortable silence as neither man dare to move nor opened his mouth to speak first.

White Clover (a promise): @s-horne

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Tony lifted his head as he tried to focus on Steve’s voice. When he managed to open his eyes and blink a bit of the blurriness away, he was rewarded with a gentle smile being shone down at him.

“There you are,” Steve said. “Was worried I was going to have to talk to myself.”

Though his tone was light, Tony knew what he meant. It was no secret that Tony was physically weaker and a hell of a lot more human than Steve was and was therefore struggling more with the lack of regular nourishment that came with being held hostage.

“Course not,” Tony said back, voice hoarse but plastering a smile on his face all the same. His head was pounding and his eyes couldn't stay open. “Would I ever do that to you? You’d never get a sensible answer.”

Acta non verba: @firebrands

unapologetic fluff about two idiots who can barely keep it together with how hard they're crushing on each other

or:

tony has to help steve with math + a halloween party = a good time for everyone, eventually

you take me higher than the rest (everybody else is second best): @firebrands

tumblr fill for adi & anthonydarling, who asked for "'Prank' war, but the kind to see who can make the other blush the most in public" from this prompt list

Adjacent, Against, Upon: @firebrands

A political AU!

Steve Rogers is running as the Mayor of somewhere, America. Tony Stark, his campaign manager, deals with a candidate who isn’t interested in lying, and just wants to do good by these citizens, god damn it.

song of unrest: @omg-just-peachy

How was Steve supposed to reconcile all of this? The way he looked so different but still felt so much the same? It made Steve’s head spin. He knows he shouldn’t care so much, that he is what he is, but he just wants to know.

Paint The Town Blue: @omg-just-peachy

Ten years since he’d seen or spoken to Tony Stark, ten years since they’d broken up to go away to school. And now this email. It could be his only chance to see Tony again.

Camelot: @weethreequarter

For one shining moment, there was Camelot.

In 2019, Karen Page meets Captain Steve Rogers to conduct an exclusive interview on his late husband, President Tony Stark.

In 2007, Steve meets Senator Tony Stark and falls in love.

he thinks he’s lancelot (but he’s more of a sir lamorak): @theotherwasdeath

Tony knows firsthand that violence isn’t funny. So why oh why does he think that the scene playing out in front of him, Steve and Victor Von Doom in a knock-out, drag-down fist fight, is absolutely hilarious?

wildflowers: @tinytonysnark

“So,” Steve begins, clapping his hands together, “the city of SHIELD is in debt. The big ups have sent for financial advisors, all the way from DC! They’re gonna take a look at the city’s spending and make some cuts.”

He squints at the camera against the morning sun shining through the courtyard, “I’m not that worried. Everyone here in the parks department is an important member of the team and absolutely needed.”

The camera swings towards the office where from the large glass window, Natasha can be seen picking up the ringing phone before immediately slamming it back down onto the receiver.

[A Parks and Rec AU]

trinkets of your affection: @starklysteve

Kissed him once for every year I loved him, Steve had written.

By that count, Steve owes him five more kisses now.

Tony traces the words, hands trembling, and tips back a shot of Howard's ancient whiskey. None of it burns anymore.

One day, he'll have lived more days without Steve than there are words in the diary.

For the first time since he'd woken with shrapnel in his chest, Tony fears the future.

----------

Or, five things Tony keeps to remember Steve by, and one thing Steve gives him to remember.

#adi's rec list #stevetony #superhusbands #steve rogers x tony stark #steve rogers/tony stark #steve x tony #steve/tony #underrated stevetony fics #this is part 1 of this rec list #part two will be out soon!!#im planning on doing this for other ships!!#so let me know if there's any ships you wanna see this for

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kazoosandfannypacks · 1 year

Text

"Open to Interpretation" by kazoosandfannypacks

Chapter 3/16: Small Pairing: CaptainSwan Rating: General Word Count: (1K/24K) Summary: Emma Swan is appalled at works by modern artist Killian Jones- until a handsome stranger convinces her otherwise- and after introducing himself as the artist in question, he invites her out on a date. As their relationship develops, they find that they might not be as different from each other as originally thought. Chapter Summary: a little glimpse into the life of Emma Swan Tags: au, fluff, captain swan, modern au Author's notes: As you may notice this while reading this chapter, I haven't given Emma's cringefail ex boyfriend a name yet. as you continue with this story, you'll find that I never refer to him by name at all. This is intentional so that you, the reader, have freedom to make him whatever cringefail ex boyfriend you like. You could make him Bagel or the flying monkey, or even your own cringefail ex boyfriend, or that guy who cut you off in traffic yesterday, or anyone else you despise. That is my gift to you 💞 Taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda [if you'd like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

An hour later, Emma sat down on the couch in her apartment with her phone in one hand and a mug of ramen noodles in the other.

She scrolled absentmindedly through Facebook, playing the mental game of "will I see more engagement posts or birth announcements today?" and regretting friending so many people back in college, all of whom she never spoke to anymore. Once the life update posts ended, she switched to Instagram, and was only a few posts in before she realized social media was a mistake today.

It was only a week after her ex had decided they should take a break- but after all they'd gone through together, Emma shouldn't've been surprised to see him already posting a picture with another girl. Careful not to accidentally like the photo, she read the description, words about being excited to see where this goes getting blurred by the anger and annoyance clouding Emma's mind- not just sorrow over his betrayal, but frustration that she was stupid enough to let him get away with it. She should've seen this coming from a long way off, but she'd given him the benefit of the doubt all this time, only to find herself trampled on.

She unfollowed him on Instagram, then on Facebook, and was well on her way to deleting and blocking his contact in her phone- when she noticed she hadn't opened the text that Killian had sent her before she left the museum. It was just the picture they'd taken together, which she immediately saved to her phone, then figured she should probably say something in response.

"Thanks for the picture. Had a great time!"

She was half tempted to post their picture on her Instagram story, just to rub it in her ex's face that she had a date this weekend too, coupled with some caption about how it wasn't every day she met such a talented guy, but she felt it might be petty and shallow, and generally uncool to get Killian caught in the crosshairs like that out of the blue.

She turned off her phone screen and set it down on the couch, then flopped her head back.

There had to be something healthier than social media to handle this annoyance and betrayal- wasn't that why she went to the museum today anyways?

She looked back at her newspaper covered coffee table with a canvas and paint supplies all set up. It had been a while since she'd painted something with feeling, so she'd been hoping to find a little inspiration at the museum.

She picked up the canvas and a pencil and tried to sketch something out. How could she describe how she was feeling after the fallout of this week? Broken? Betrayed? Small?

Small. Believing you're someone's everything for months, then finding out you're more replaceable than a double A battery- the only thing she could call herself was small.

She sketched out a figure, a young girl, just an outline, with her head hung down. She didn't take up too much of the canvas. She then drew an outline around her, one not unlike a shadow across the corner of the page, like it was coming from someone off the canvas- and like his shadow was part of why he felt so small.

"That's got a message." she thought. She then thought about the message that Killian had included in the three paintings she'd seen with him. Maybe if things worked out well on Friday, he'd walk her through his whole exhibit sometime, explaining the story behind every painting.

She wondered how much social media presence he had for his art- his Instagram had been mentioned in one of the brochures.

"Maybe I should take a fresh look at some of his paintings for a touch of inspiration."

She opened her phone to get distracted from her painting, but found herself distracted from that as well- Killian had replied to her text.

"You're welcome. Did you make it home safely?"

She smiled, endeared at the concern for her in those words.

"Yup. Thanks for asking." she texted back.

He replied almost immediately.

"Pleasure's all mine. See you Friday at 5:30!"

"Can't wait."

Then she opened instagram, and tracked down his art account. She tapped on the profile and viewed his story- a link to a newsletter about the benefit dinner, a snapshot of a view of the city out the window of what was apparently the apartment the museum had him set up in, a screenshot and a link of a news article about his display, the picture he'd taken with Emma….

She held down the screen so it wouldn't disappear before she read the caption.

"Always a pleasure to meet a new fan! @nolan.blanchard.art.museum"

Emma's gut reaction was a hint of annoyance at her photo being used as a publicity stunt- but it made her feel special as well. As she realized she was charmed by this and not appalled, she also realized that she would now seem a lot less petty to do the same thing. In fact, since she'd seen the story, it would almost be impolite if she didn't respond.

So, she screenshot his story, then uploaded it to her story, adding a caption of her own.

"The pleasure was all mine! It's cool meeting such a talented artist @artists.life.for.me @nolan.blanchard.art.museum."

If he was gonna get clout from their picture together, she felt no shame in doing the same.

She then went back to his profile and followed it, then liked some of his recent works.

"The 'don't like after three days' rule doesn't apply to influencers," she reasoned, so she felt it alright to like every picture of his paintings that spoke to her.

Which, though she wouldn't've expected it of herself even two hours ago, happened to be most of them.

#captain swan #once upon a time #killian jones #emma swan #ouat #cs ff #cs fanfiction #cs au #once upon a time season 6

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randomingoftherandomness · 3 years

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Youku really releases a firefighters fanvid and I’m supposed to what? Sit here and not want a firefighter AU??? Anyway, I would be so so grateful if you wrote a firefighter AU for wenzhou - you can write whatever inspires you but I’ve been thinking about one of them being the new captain of the team and either like thirst from the beginning or clash either/both is good? Or like some super dramatic moment where one realizes their love for the other? thanks for reading my request!

Hello friend! Thanks for the prompt. I have a feeling that once The Flaming Heart comes out, the crossovers and stuff are just going to get worse haha...

I decided to weave a little bit of everything and though this may not be in line with what you had in mind, I still hope you’ll enjoy it x

The atmosphere of the firehouse was halfway between an organised chaos and a flurry of hens flocking after the prettiest cockerel. More than a few ladies - and a few men, if they were being honest - had showed up today just to catch a glimpse of their favourite ‘Gege’ and ‘Didi’ of their crew.

Zishu feels Han Ying shift on the balls of his feet before giving up the ghost and sighing, “Boss, he’s talking to Xie-er.”

He snaps his gaze over to where he was most definitely not talking to his most ardent admirer, Xie-er from the hair saloon two blocks down.

Han Ying beats the most strategic retreat.

The ‘him’ in question was their new station chief Wen Kexing. His face is bright and friendly, smiling gently as he sells packed rice to a group of giggling aunties who, even from the shadow of the firehouse, Zishu can tell are half promoting their nieces, daughters, and granddaughters, whilst doing marketing for themselves as well.

Zishu has to swallow back the vomit in his mouth. What did they expect him to be? A pretty boy toy being fed by his sugar mummy for forever?

Almost in that same moment, Wen Kexing laughs. He has a distinct laugh; deep and throaty, smoky like he had deliberately pitched his voice into a constant octave of seduction. It was a sort of sweetness someone like Zishu could never attain genuinely in this lifetime.

The first time they’d met, perhaps a little bitter from being passed over for the promotion, he had resolved to dislike the man just a little, showing off some thorns to keep him from getting close. But unexpectedly, somehow, none of his best efforts in spite have kept Wen Kexing away.

If anything, the more venom he throws at the man, the more the man is determined to befriend him.

Zishu’s heart quickens at the remembrance of how Wen Kexing would repeatedly offer to drive him home (as if he couldn’t afford to just take the underground train or call a taxi), make meals for everyone on the same shift as he was but always saving a special pack that was healthy and nutritious for Zishu, never ceasing to be shameless about their banter which had caused more than a few of their brothers to look at them with equal parts curiosity and amusement when Wen Kexing would smile and volley whatever ladykiller pick up line at Zishu.

Pick up lines that never work. At all. He will punch whoever says that they do.

But Zishu isn’t blind and he knows himself; he’s pricklier than a cactus on fire and he’s rigid and unyielding on his best days. He isn’t in possession of some special handsomeness or aura like Xie-er, nor does he have any qualities to promote him as someone who could potentially dare to ask Wen Kexing for a simple meal.

Furthermore, he’s a man. People like Wen Kexing have their whole lives figured out. Even if their line of work cannot guarantee an injury free or even death free future, Zishu can tell that the man probably already knows what sort of beauty he wants to marry.

Even if, just yesterday on a call, he had been carried out of the river by their chief like some fawning maiden, Zishu has enough self-awareness to know he definitely looked like a drowned rat in Wen Kexing’s arms, and the scene was wholly less than the romantic daydream Han Ying and their young summer intern Chengling like to pretend it to be. So what if he had gone home last night thinking about absolutely nothing but the way Wen Kexing holds him so tightly and so securely; so what if he pretended buried himself with pillows just to prolong that illusion?

“Hey Ah Xu!”

Zishu nearly trips over his own feet and looks up to see Wen Kexing waving him over. He trots over immediately, slightly dazed from the daydream and the million watt smile he receives as he comes near enough.

“Ladies, I’d like to introduce to you my Ah Xu,” Wen Kexing announces proudly. “Isn't he everything I told you about?”

The gathering of women sigh and swan in response like a well choreographed troupe. It isn’t until he notices that they’re no longer peddling their female relations or themselves that he realises that Wen Kexing has an arm around his waist and a hand on his hip.

He snaps his head up in alarm only to be gentle smiled back down. Knowing that he has to endure this farce, Zishu bites his inner cheek and does his damn hardest not to let the heat on his cheek show too much.

#wenzhou #word of honor #wen kexing #zhou zishu #gab writes stuff #word of advice kids; don't go grabbing people in the workplace coz that is Harassment #also do not ever follow WKX pick up techniques because it is called Stalking

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searchingwardrobes · 3 years

Text

Not the Type - 6/8

Finally! A new update :) Sorry for the delay, but the muse has been fickle as of late. In this chapter, Emma has her first competition of the season, and it's psyching her out. Will Killian be her encouragement, or will she push him away in the midst of it all? This chapter includes another iconic scene from the movie, when Torrance dances around her room to Cliff's song. I wanted to use the actual lyrics to the song, but in looking at it, there were a few lines that bothered me. One literally says "I'd bring you flowers every day just to roll you in the hay." And then there's a constant refrain that says "I'll make you mine." Those lines just don't seem to jive for me with Killian's character when in canon he specifically tells David that he doesn't see Emma as loot and tells Emma that he will win her heart, but not through any trickery. We know he isn't the kind of guy to give a woman flowers in order to manipulate her into sleeping with him. We also know how much agency means to him, so I didn't think telling Emma in song "I'll make you mine" fit either. Anyways, that's a long way of explaining that the lyrics are 99% like the ones in the movie, minus those two parts.

Massive thanks to my beta, @hookedonapirate who takes my confusing sentences and makes them sound purty ;) You’re the best! And thanks also to the @captainswanmoviemarathon for putting together this event and being massively supportive and patient.

Summary: Emma Swan first notices him in the stands at the Friday night football game. She can tell right away Killian Jones is not the football type. Then again, she’s not the cheerleader type either, but here she is with pom poms. Life hasn’t ever gone the way Emma planned. Lately, that’s actually been a good thing. Maybe Killian Jones is a good thing, too.

My loose Captain Swan AU of the movie Bring it On

Rated: T

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @xhookswenchx @teamhook @let-it-raines @winterbythesea @spartanguard @shireness-says @superchocovian @thesschesthair @resident-of-storybrooke @vvbooklady1256 @hookedonapirate @ultraluckycatnd @hollyethecurious @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @bethacaciakay @optomisticgirl @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @ekr032-blog-blog @itsfabianadocarmo @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @winterbaby89 @tiganasummertree @xsajx @jennjenn615 @zaharadessert @stahlop @scientificapricot @thislassishooked @kday426 @ultraluckycatnd @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @lassluna

The room was thick with hair spray, and Emma and the rest of the Storybrooke Knights Cheerleaders were sucking on orange slices. Except for Ruby who was touching up her blood red lipstick in front of one of the mirrors propped up on the classroom’s smart board.

“I think they’re red enough already, Ruby,” Coach Ava remarked as she sprayed more Aquanet all over her daughter’s hair. MM was having to wear a hair extension so she didn’t look out of place with their “hair” theme, and Coach was paranoid it was going to go flying across the gym floor during their routine. Emma wasn’t sure hairspray worked that way, but she wasn’t about to say so.

Ruby smacked her lips together with a loud pop. “The redder the better, I say. I want them to see my smile.”

She turned to the rest of the group and flashed a toothy grin. They all laughed, and Belle grimaced.

“More like a predator about to devour her prey.”

Ruby winked at Belle and growled, resulting in more laughter. Coach Ava rolled her eyes as she capped the hairspray. “Just don’t get it all over your teeth, okay Lucas?”

“No worries, Coach, it’s that long-lasting stuff that isn’t supposed to come off.”

“So why did you need fifty coats?” Tiana quipped.

They were all still laughing when a woman wearing a t-shirt that read, East Maybrook Invitational and holding an ipad poked her head into the classroom. “Storybrooke High in the hole!”

The girls all stood, gathering up their things, tossing orange peels into the trash bins and giving their hair and make up one last glance in the mirror. They followed the woman in the official t-shirt down two hallways to East Maybrook High’s cafeteria where cheer mats had been set up in the same configuration as on the performance floor. The girls took their places as if they were really performing, and marked out the routine while Coach Ava counted out the beats. If something went wrong with the music, they would have to keep going. They only pantomimed doing the stunts, however, not wanting to risk a last minute injury.

After running through the routine, a nervous silence fell among them. Some girls stretched, others did a few jumps, or even a back handspring. Anything to handle their nervous energy. Emma bounced on the balls of her feet, heart pounding in her chest more than usual. A phone call had followed the letter: someone from the UK cheer staff would be in the stands today.

And she still hadn’t told her friends about it.

“Storybrooke High on deck!”

The girls gave each other nervous glances and clasped hands in little groups as they followed the woman out of the cafeteria doors. Emma had Ruby on her left and Mary Margaret on her right, their arms threaded together. For once, Ruby was quiet.

As they neared the gym, the girls could hear the familiar sounds of competition: loud music, an announcer's voice, shouts as the audience cheered for the cheerleaders for once. It made the adrenaline pump even harder. It usually was at this moment that Emma went into her competitive “zone” where everything around her went fuzzy and her mind became laser focused on the routine and what she had to do. Today, however, she felt like she was on sensory overload, unable to turn off all the sights, sounds, and smells around her.

Before she could even process everything, Storybrooke was being announced to the crowd. Emma ran out onto the floor with a huge smile, cheers, and fist pumps for the crowd, but it felt like she was outside of herself, watching. She took her place on the floor, standing in prep, her arms straight at her sides and her head down. Her fists were clenched, and she tried to control the nervous tremors coursing through her as she waited for their music to start.

A synth-pop remix of “Hair” from the Broadway musical started to play, and the Storybrooke Knights whipped their ponytails as they started their back handspring/back tuck peel-offs. Coach Ava always said that the music needed to appeal to every generation represented in the judge’s panel as well as the crowd, and as Emma flawlessly landed her tumbling pass to roaring applause, she saw the two boomer judges smiling and bopping to the music.

She reprimanded herself for looking at the judges as she jogged across the floor for her next tumbling pass. Nevertheless, she scanned the crowd just before she started her pass, wondering where that UK recruiter was. It was the most difficult pass in the entire routine: a back handspring into an arabian, then a double whip into a full twisting double back. She hesitated, stumbling, before getting started because of her distraction, and by the time she did her second whip, she had a sinking feeling. Sure enough, when she landed her double back, she was way out of bounds. She didn’t need the loud buzzer from the line judge to alert her to the fact. She gritted her teeth in frustration, but then remembered to fake a smile as she got into the dance formation. Her face ached from her forced smile as she swung her hips to the rhythm of “Whip My Hair.”

Emma’s next mistake came in the squad’s first pyramid. It felt like she had a weight attached to her ankle, and she couldn’t lift her leg as high as she normally did to connect to Mary Margaret’s stunt group to her left. She almost lost her balance completely, but Ruby compensated and saved it. Mary Margaret didn’t falter either, thank God. Emma was practically shaking as she went into the twist up stunt - her nemesis in this routine. Kelly Rowland singing “Crown” as Emma popped up, her hand grasping her ponytail, helped her power through, as cheesy as it sounded.

Despite the mistakes Emma was berating herself for, the crowd was going crazy for the combination of the theme, the music, and the cool tricks. By the end, the entire gymnasium was on its feet with thunderous applause. Emma ended the routine seated on the mat, back to the audience with her head flung back. Since she saw them all upside down, she couldn’t pick out her family or anyone in Kentucky blue.

Ruby yanked Emma to her feet, screaming loud enough to shatter her eardrums. Mary Margaret and Ariel sandwiched her in a hug, and then they were swept away by the rest of their ecstatic teammates.

“Amazing job, girls!” Coach Ava praised, gathering them in a big, squirming, awkward group hug. “Mary Margaret didn’t even lose her hair!’’

They all laughed giddily, except for Emma. Her mind was reeling. “I went out of bounds,” she confessed.

Coach Ava waved off her words. “It’s our first competition. It’s normal for there to be kinks to work out. Let’s not worry about that until the next practice, though. For now, let’s just celebrate a solid opening for the season.”

Her teammates seemed to all be in agreement, and so did the judges, awarding The Storybrooke Knights with a third place finish. It wasn’t their best opening - that had been last year’s first place trophy to kick off the season - but making the top three was the goal of every top squad right out of the gate. Even the UK recruiter had congratulated her on a solid routine.

“I could see the nerves a bit,” she told Emma, her smile kind and reassuring, “but the level of tumbling skill you possess is rare. Top five I’ve seen so far, no doubt about it. We’ll definitely be in touch.”

Emma, however, couldn’t shake the feeling of failure that clung to her.

“I’m blown away, Swan, that was amazing!”

Emma was in Killian’s arms before she could even register that he’d rushed out of the bleachers and onto the floor to greet her. He brushed a kiss to her cheek and deposited a bouquet of white daisies into her arms.

“It wasn’t amazing,” Emma whispered, staring down at the white flowers.

“Come now, don’t be modest.” Killian’s grin conveyed giddy pride in her which she found inexplicably annoying.

“I stepped out of bounds on my big tumbling pass, I almost took down our first pyramid, and I was shaky on every single stunt!”

Killian’s eyes narrowed. “Your team doesn’t seem put out with you.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “They’re being nice. If we hadn’t placed, it would have been a different story. It would have all been my fault.”

“Whatever happened to the whole we win as a team, we fail as a team thing?”

“My team relies on me keeping my head on straight!” Her voice had risen, and she slashed the air with the bouquet of flowers. White petals fluttered to the gym floor.

Killian cocked his head and studied her. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing!”

“It’s something, Swan.”

He stepped forward, reaching for her, but she stepped out of his reach.

“I just let everyone down, but no one will be straight with me. Why can’t you all just admit I screwed up today?”

Killian shook his head. “I don’t think you’re seeing things clearly. I saw an amazingly talented athlete today, Swan. You were amazing.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Of course you’d say that. You’re a high school guy. You’ll say anything you have to to get in a cheerleader’s panties.”

Killian’s eyes widened and his head jerked back as if she’d slapped him. “You really think so little of me?”

She tilted her chin. “I’m no fool. Did you think tonight would be the night? Show up to my little competition, compliment me, throw in some flowers, and I’d spread my legs for you?”

Killian backed away, his jaw clenching, nostrils flaring. “I’m going to assume you don’t mean any of that, Emma, so I’m walking away before either of us can say anything we might regret.”

“Fine!” she yelled as he turned and walked toward the gym doors. “Walk away! That’s what every guy does when a girl won’t put out.” She threw the flowers at his retreating form. She watched the white petals swirl through the air and the green stems hit the parquet floor with a soft swish and crinkle of cellophane wrapper.

“Emma!”

She whirled around to see Ruth standing there, frown upon her face and her brow furrowed. David stood next to her, his arms crossed in disapproval. Nearby a cluster of her teammates stared as if she’d morphed into some mythological creature with two heads. Her face burned as she realized how loudly she’d yelled at her boyfriend.

Probably ex-boyfriend now.

Humiliated, she turned and fled, fingers pressed to her flaming cheeks.

*********************************************

“Go away,” Emma muttered into her pillow.

“What if I were Mom with a plate of brownies?”

Emma grabbed a teddy bear, clutching two tiny red pom poms (a gift from Ruth after last year’s state championship win), and smacked her brother in the head with it. She glared at him through one eye, the rest of her face still smashed into the pillow.

“I knew it was you because you crashed down on my bed hard enough to catapult me out the window. Ruth’s more subtle.”

David just laughed as he rubbed at his cheek where the bear had met his face.

“Go away,” she repeated, turning her face fully into the pillow again.

“You left your phone downstairs.”

“So?”

“So, you have like fifty text messages and thirty missed calls.”

Emma rolled over, still clutching her pillow to her chest. “Well, he’s persistent, I’ll give him that.”

“It wasn’t just Killian. Your entire team is worried about you.”

“Because I choked?”

“Because you're delusional,” David shot back with equal parts humor and frustration. “You didn’t choke. You didn’t let any of us down. You didn’t give a lousy performance, or any of a thousand other ridiculous claims you’ve made in the past few hours.”

Emma turned to look at her brother. “I made mistakes, David.”

He shrugged. “Who doesn’t? It was one competition, Emma, not the Olympics. It wasn’t even the state championships or regionals. One. Competition. At some tiny high school in the middle of nowhere, Maine.”

Emma groaned as she pushed herself up to the headboard and let her head drop to David’s shoulder. He put his arm around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Kentucky?”

Emma sighed. When the recruiter had called, she insisted on speaking to Ruth as well. Emma should have known she would spill the beans to her son, especially after Emma acted like a complete lunatic.

Yes, a delusional lunatic. Her brother wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t know, it was just . . . a lot to process. And a lot rides on this. I mean, there aren’t any football recruiters looking at you, which means college is gonna be expensive, Mr. Quarterback. If my tuition is taken care of, Ruth can just worry about you.”

“I could get other scholarships.”

“You’re a white, middle class male. You aren't getting any other scholarships.”

He chuckled and poked her in the ribs. “Regardless of all that, Mom just wants what’s best for you. We’ll figure out college and the money and all that, but we’ll do it together. That’s what a family does. Okay?”

This family thing was still new for Emma, so she just nodded in agreement against David’s shoulder.

“But speaking of Killian,” David said, waving her phone in front of her face, “some of these calls and texts are from him. He sent you a video, too. Then called me and pretty much begged me to get you to watch it, so just give him that much, okay? So he’ll leave me alone?”

Emma rolled her eyes as she took the phone. David could protest all he wanted, but she knew about the little bromance he had with her boyfriend.

She waited until her brother went downstairs before she sat cross-legged in the center of her bed and pulled up the video from Killian. She gnawed on her bottom lip nervously before pressing “play.”

And there Killian was, on the tiny screen, smiling like they’d never had a fight. Emma’s lips pulled up into a grin of her own. He was also holding his guitar in his lap and fidgeting.

“Hi, Emma,” he said with a nervous little wave. “You’ve been ignoring all my calls and texts, so I decided to pull out the big guns. I was gonna give this to you as a gift for like Valentine’s Day or something, but . . . you know . . . desperate times call for desperate measures.”

He cleared his throat and shifted again, and Emma blinked back tears. She’d never seen him at such a loss for words.

“I wrote you a song,’ he continued, “so, I’ll just shut up and sing it already.”

Emma gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as he began to strum his electric. It started

out as a kind of slow, cheeky punk rock ballad.

Oh, Emma, I don’t get your cheerleading squad, but I love your pom-poms. I'd feed you bon-bons all night.

Then it transitioned into a full on rock song, and Killian began to shred on his guitar. He was really good, and the song had Emma bobbing her head to the music.

1,2,3,4. Yeah, you got me to feel all those butterflies inside. In your locker I would hide. The truth, it's only you I see, and you're just what I need. I'll bring you flowers all the time in hopes that you’ll be mine. Well I'm feelin' fine, I'm right on time. I hope I’ll win your heart.

When he transitioned into the chorus, Emma leapt up from her bed. She propped her phone on her nightstand and began to dance around the room to Killian’s song.

And you're just what I need. And you're just what I need. Not everything works as it seems. Is that so hard to believe? So I went down to the record store. Picked my head up off the floor. The truth, it's only you I see. And you're just what I need. And if it's my world that you fear, let me make this very clear. Well I'm feelin' fine, I'm right on time. I hope I’ll win your heart. And you're just what I need.

The chorus repeated a couple more times, and Emma danced around her room like she hadn’t in a long time. She even grabbed an old pair of pom poms she’d gotten as a joke at the squad’s white elephant Christmas party. They were those enormous pom poms cheerleaders used to wave in the long ago days of letter sweaters and megaphones. They made a fun swishing sound as she bounced around the room to Killian’s song.

A song he’d written for her! A song about her! If she wasn’t so giddy and happy, she would burst into tears.

When the song ended, Emma collapsed onto her bed, panting from her ridiculous dance party and grinning ear to ear. She rolled over and grabbed her phone. She texted rapidly, her fingers trembling.

I watched your song.

Did you like it?

I LOVED it!

Good. I meant every word.

I’m sorry.

I know.

#cs ff #captain swan movie marathon #csmm #bring it on au #lieutenant duckling #high school au

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sailtoafarawayland · 3 years

Text

The Things We Don’t Say - Ch 2 (modern AU - actors)

Summary: No one is perfect, and sometimes, two people are just so perfectly flawed that those pieces fit together and make something beautiful. When sparks fly between two leads of a new hit show, is there a happy ending in sight, or will their own mistakes overshadow any chance they had at something worth fighting for.

Rated: Explicit

Warnings: This is a joyfully Captain Swan story, but there are a few warnings. It does start with Emma/Neal and Killian/Milah. I don't write non-CS, so there won't be any sexual anything happening 'on screen', so to speak, between those couples, but I won't guarantee there may not be a mention. This story contains numerous episodes of cheating. If any of these things make you squick or are not your bag, carry on.

AO3 - FF

- or read below the cut -

As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged (or removed) for further updates.

Tag list: @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @teamhook @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @kmomof4

Chapter Two

Killian sighed into the hard press of his fingers against his tired eyes, listening to the soft hum of the elevator as it climbed to his floor. He’d look like a drunken raccoon by the time he got into the apartment, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. An early morning shoot that had dragged late into the day left him feeling more dead than alive, and he hadn’t bothered with his normal clean up on set. The time saved getting back to his bed was the bright side—the downside was a few fans had recognized him when he jumped out of his uber, his trademark eyeliner and messily styled hair a giveaway. He’d managed a few weak smiles as they snapped pictures and hurried on his way, taking a few strange turns and slipping a spare beanie he kept in his pocket over his head. That, a popped collar, and hunched shoulders normally did the trick. Being famous certainly had its perks, but crazed fans knowing where he lived certainly wasn’t one of them.

It was usually simpler to drive to set, but lately he’d been to worn out to trust himself behind the wheel. The past two weeks had been a nightmare of last minute reshoots and publicity, and he couldn’t wait for it to all be over.

The elevator doors slid open, Killian staring at them for a moment before he realized her was staring at the familiar artwork that spanned the hall outside his condo. Desperately trying to blink away sleep, he trudged down the hall, leaning his forehead against the cool metal door for a brief second before unlocking it and heading in.

God, he hoped Milah was content to have a quiet night in.

Everything was blessedly dark and quiet when he stepped into the entryway, shrugging his leather jacket off and hanging it on the waiting hook, his boots next as he eased them off his aching feet and lined them up neatly below the jacket. He rolled his neck and stretched, wrinkling his nose as he realized a fifteen-hour day filming had left him less than fresh.

A hot shower and bed—that was the plan. With any luck, and the darkened apartment seemed to be on his side, Milah would already be stretched beneath the covers and he could slip in behind her and fall asleep pressed to her warmth. It would be the perfect start to a weekend otherwise free of engagements and obligations.

“Milah?” he whispered, not wanting to startle her if she was relaxing in the living area.

There was always the chance she’d gone out with friends earlier and wouldn’t be home until late. It was a Friday, after all.

His back ached as he stretched his shirt over his head, balling it up and launching it toward the hamper as he walked into the bedroom. A glaring light greeted him from around the corner and he realized that Milah was indeed home, but not where he’d hoped. It looked as if a tornado had blown through the walk-in closet—every pair of heels she owned were tossed onto the floor and the chaise was covered with a haphazard pile of glittering dresses. Milah was standing in front of the mirrored wall, a sequined, black strapless number pulled over her body but left unzipped as she adjusted a pair of large earrings, her brow furrowed.

“Oh, thank god your home,” she huffed, flashing an annoyed smile over her shoulder as she slid her second earring in. “This zipper is absolutely impossible.”

He smiled and stepped into the closet, taking care to avoid the dresses that had sloughed onto the carpeting.

“I’m happy to help, darling,” he assured, catching the nearly invisibly zipper and easing it up her back. There were certainly nights he would have coaxed her into agreement that off was the far better option, but tonight he was more than happy to get her dressed and out the door if that was what she so desired. “Headed anywhere special?”

“It’s that opening of the new club—you know, the one with the glass ceiling that everyone has been going on about. I mentioned it the other night—good lord, Killian, you positively reek.”

Killian flashed a tired smile in the mirror, but her frown only deepened.

“Honestly, Killian, you can’t go out like that. You’ll need to have a quick shower.”

Killian’s brows echoed her own displeasure as he realized what she was implying.

“Did you want my company, as well?”

“Do you even listen when I speak? Sometimes I wonder. I told you two nights ago that Lara and William were expecting us. They’ve barely seen you.”

Killian couldn’t remember a Lara, but he seemed to recall a bright, friendly man with reddish-blond hair who may have been a William. No matter who they were, he had no interest in spending the evening with them, and even less in spending the evening on his feet in an obnoxious club.

“It’s been a long day, Milah—every day for the past couple weeks has, and I’m exhausted—”

“You’re absolutely right, Killian, it has been a long day, a long few weeks, and I’m sorry that I thought I might get to spend some time with you at the end of all of it. How foolish of me,” she snapped, and Killian felt the words like a slap to his face.

“No, you’re right. It’s—I’m sorry. I’ll have a quick rinse and get dressed.”

Milah beamed at him, adjusting her hair and checking that everything was just as she wanted it to be in the mirror. Killian pressed a soft kiss to her bare shoulder, the warmth of her smile washing away a bit of his exhaustion.

He wanted her to be happy, and perhaps the past few weeks had been more difficult for her than she let on.

“It will be a lovely night, I promise,” she said, shoving him gently toward the bathroom as she turned to reappraise the pile of heels.

* * *

Despite Milah’s initial enthusiasm that he’d agreed to join her and two people he most definitely did not remember—apparently William had brown hair and was quite pretentious—it was not a lovely night. The hot shower and the warmth of Milah’s arm in his had been enough to fool him into think it might be the tiniest bit enjoyable—after all, it had been some time since he’d been to a club—but he’d been wrong, very wrong.

Everything from the moving lights to the music to the stench of hot bodies pressed against one another was giving him a pounding headache, and he slid down further into his chair, nursing a rum and casting about for Milah, wherever she’d gone. He’d wanted to give her a nice evening at his side, but he hadn’t been able to find it in him to join her on the dance floor—probably because his feet had blisters from filming in his costume boots all day—and she hadn’t been able to find it in her to forgive him.

He’d been able to keep track of her at first, but soon she was lost in the crush of bodies and he was lost in his rum—at least it helped dull the sounds a bit.

He didn’t know if it was the insane schedule he was booked to finish shooting for his latest movie, or just the lack of free time, but nothing felt quite right lately, and he was worried a change was needed. Milah was clearly unhappy with his schedule, with how much distance it put between them. He found himself wondering if perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad time to step back a bit, to get away and really dedicate some time to the two of them.

It was a question he’d come back to more than once in the past few months, and as much as he wanted to feel that doing so was the right answer, his gut kept telling him it wasn’t.

He loved her, he certainly didn’t want her to be miserable, but the thought of missing out on opportunities at the high point of his career, it did worry him. Liam had worked more than any person should have to help put him through school, and he’d only ever wanted happiness for his little brother. Liam was a big enough man to know that for Killian that meant acting, even if it was a hard path. If Killian were to step back now, would that be doing justice to his brother’s sacrifice. What if he started turning down offers and never bounced back from it?

He searched the dance floor once more, but there was no sign of his Milah. Knowing she was probably hurt enough to ignore him for the rest of the night, he whipped out his phone and started scrolling through emails, most of them simply things his manager had already spoken with him about over the phone. It wasn’t until he scrolled farther back, nearly hypnotized by the small boxes flying along the screen, that a flagged email came to his attention and he stopped. The details were familiar, and he only just remembered the conversation he’d had with Cora.

It had been an offer for the lead role in a new series, but he’d turned it down due to the filming location. He’d been worried about having to uproot Milah, but scanning through everything once more, he found himself second-guessing his first decision. Perhaps it would be the answer they needed, and the more he thought about it, the more it appealed to him personally.

Maine was certainly quiet and would allow for more quality time together—and the pay was bloody obscene, which never hurt. According to Cora, the role had been written specifically for him. He wondered how the showrunners had taken it when he declined.

His finger hovered over reply.

He should probably discuss it will Milah first, but then thoughts of Liam tugged at his tired mind and he reread the arc for the lead role, each sentence making him more inclined to see if taking it on was still a possibility.

He’d earned his name and place in Hollywood by becoming the face of playboys and scoundrels, all of his characters well-known for their rakish appeal, but to be honest, he was starting to become concerned he may not be offered anything more diverse if he didn’t branch out soon. This role—this would be something different, something Liam would be proud of. The series treaded water somewhere between a fantasy show and a piece that examined the very fabric of what is real, the main character a man who suffered great personal tragedy and loss only to have his independence and health rocked.

The more Killian looked at it, the more he knew it was for him, the words swimming with possibility...or rum. He didn't know what about his previous roles had drawn the showrunners to him of all their choices, but for the first time in a while, he really wanted something.

He really wanted this.

A feeling of certainty settled in his gut and he shot off a reply to Cora.

K: I want this, do what you need to do.

The message sent and he almost expected to look up and see Milah hovering over him, a flushed smile on her cheeks from dancing, her hair falling in tendrils around her face, but his table is still empty and the dance floor is still a writhing mass of faceless people.

Raising his glass in a lonely toast, he took another drag of rum and closed his eyes.

He wants to dream that she’ll be as happy as he is, that’s all he wants for her.

#Captain Swan #cs fanfic #cs ff #emma and hook #sailtoafarawayland #the things we don't say #modern au

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