#i have 3.1k of it already so it's well underway

[beesinspades]

sorry for not giving updates on creechur fic!! I was on a small trip and then entered full big bang editing mode as soon as I got home 🙈 I'm trying to finish it entirely before chapter 1 posting day (nov 9) so after that I'm probably taking a couple of days to chill and then I'll get back into creechur fic!!

[andypantsx3]

Deceiving the Duke | 4 | Todoroki Shouto

pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

length: 3.1k of 30k words | 4th of 9 chapters

summary: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

tags/warnings: romance, regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut

A few weeks on, you received a reply from Camie.

It was a great luck that the Utsushimis employed so few staff, which meant that you were the servant in charge of collecting the post. You imagined Mrs. Utsushimi would have seized on the letter as soon as she caught sight of it.

It was addressed in Camie’s horribly girlish hand, and it opened in the most typical of Camie phrasings.

Y/N, my sweet foolish friend–

Your plot is hilarious but doomed and you should end it sooner rather than later. Mumsy should have never asked you for this, it’s sure to ruin you and ruin her, even if Caroline makes a match.

I would have always taken care of her, and Inasa has promised the same. Of course you will come live with us on Inasa’s estate, too.

You’ll find a way to put a stop to things, won’t you?

She’d signed her name below with an aggressively elaborate flourish, so you knew how upsetting she truly found the news.

Guilt settled in your stomach like a leaden weight.

You shouldn’t have undertaken this plot, obviously. You’d said as much in your original missive to Camie. But now that the scheme was already well underway, you thought it had to be seen through. Otherwise, what had all this been for? The Utsushimi family would be embroiled in scandal with absolutely nothing to show for it. And you doubted Mrs. Utsushimi would be so generous with your promised wages, were you to renege on your commitments now.

Carefully folding Camie’s letter and stowing it under your mattress, you decided you’d just have to redouble your efforts. Perhaps you would start accepting dances with gentlemen just to talk Caroline up, and mention her kindly to Miss Uraraka and Lady Asui.

You wished you’d taken the chance to mention her to Lord Shouto, before you’d caused the scene at Lady Cathleen’s party. If he wasn’t actually courting Princess Yaoyorozu, that was, as rumor seemed to suggest.

With a new plan in mind, you started your morning chores, mending the hem of one of Mrs. Utsushimi’s gowns where she’d torn it, starching the linens, picking seams on the latest of Camie’s dresses you planned to wear. You helped the family with breakfast and saw them off to the milliner’s, after which you changed their bedding and washed the old sheets. You were just settling down to get more work done on one of Camie’s gowns when a knock came at the door.

When you pulled it open, you found Lord Shouto on the other side, peering into the dim of the hallway. His mouth parted in surprise to see you, those mismatched eyes going rounder at the corners. You immediately panicked, slamming the door shut on him.

Fuck! You’d been dressed in your maid attire, not expecting the family to receive a caller! Your only grace was that the hall was very dim this time of the morning–you hoped he hadn’t been able to make out your dress in the dark.

“Um!” you called through the door, your voice strangled. “Forgive me, my lord, I am not yet properly attired! I will be right back!”

You dashed up the stairs, grabbing the latest of Camie’s gowns, quickly unlacing your apron and shedding your clothes, then stuffing yourself into the dress. Your fingers scrabbled over all the ties and buttons, shaky with nerves. You were back down the stairs in under two minutes, panting, hoping Lord Shouto wasn’t working himself into a state at being so rudely received.

When you pulled the door open again, however, he was wearing a curious expression. Those eyes picked over you, seeming to note every detail, and you self-consciously tugged at the skirts of your dress. You did not even want to think of the state of your hair.

There was a bouquet of flowers in his hand, sweet purple lilacs decorated with bursts of white clover. You squinted at the flowers, remembering Caroline had told you each had a special meaning, if you knew how to interpret them.

They looked too pretty to be declarations of your idiocy, however, so you guessed they might not be for you.

“I—you must be here to see, um, Caroline?” you asked. “I’m afraid she’s out at the moment–she should be back in a few hours, however–if you want to leave your card…”

Lord Shouto shook his head, stepping forward. “I am here for you.”

Your heart tripped over itself with his proximity, and you backed up a step, leaning back to look into his face. “I–-you are?” you asked stupidly.

The tiniest hint of a smile twitched at the edge of his mouth. “I came to see that you were well, after Lady Cathleen’s.”

Your stomach churned guiltily. That was really too kind, especially considering that you’d done nothing but fling snacks at him, ramble nonsense at him, and then pretended to faint on him. To say nothing of the fact that you were pretending to be an entirely different person than the one you’d introduced yourself as. And here he was, in your doorway still, looking at you carefully, as though he meant to catch you were you to faint again.

Now that he was here, it would not be so easy to refuse him. You backed out of the doorway, gesturing him inside. “Please come in. I can serve tea in the sitting room.”

Lord Shouto inclined his head and followed you inside. You lead him to the parlor, glad you’d neatened it, wondering at your own nerve–a servant, entertaining a duke, in a sitting room that was not her own.

“The maid is, um, indisposed today,” you told him. “I’ll make the tea myself, please make yourself comfortable.”

You left him to his own devices, darting to the kitchen. You’d hoped to run into the cook but she was also apparently out, probably at market, so you threw the kettle on and spent several long minutes rummaging around for the nice tea–-the kind Mrs. Utsushimi only served when she wanted to impress. You figured a duke would definitely meet her criteria for people worth impressing.

When you returned, Lord Shouto had left his flowers laying over the settee. He was at the mantle over the fireplace, glancing through the Utsushimis’ portraits and displayed needlework. That curious look was back on his face when he turned back to you, and his eyes seemed to rove over every inch of your face.

He looked strange, in fact, as though he’d just been confronted with a startling discovery. You flushed under his scrutiny, hoping you hadn’t missed a stain on your dress or some large rip in the fabric.

You hurried to the corner and set the tea tray down on the sideboard. Your skin prickled tellingly as he drew near, and you quickly poured him a cup and ordered him into a chair to get him away from you. You did not understand why his presence made you feel so strange.

You dared to pour yourself a cup of tea, too, and perched on a chair opposite him, luxuriating in how good the tea was compared to your usual fare.

“I, um, appreciate you calling,” you said to him, watching him settle into his chair, and trying not to pay too much attention to the way his thighs filled out his breeches, or the way his shoulders seemed to take up the entire width of the chair back.

Lord Shouto sipped at his tea, humming low in his throat. “Have you recovered, Miss Utsushimi?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes. It was just, um, a passing thing. I am completely fine.”

He looked satisfied, smiling softly into his tea cup. “I am happy to hear it.”

You noticed his lashes left long shadows over the tops of his cheekbones as he drank, and you pinched your leg through your skirts when you realized how deeply undue that observation was.

You quickly cast about for something to take your mind off of the way Lord Shouto looked sitting across from you.

“The flowers are pretty,” you said, glancing over at them. The purple of the lilacs looked especially deep against the lighter fabric of the settee–you wondered what purple lilac was supposed to mean, and which of the Utsushimis they were for.

Lord Shouto had said he was calling on you, but he’d not said the same of the flowers. It would be the height of conceit to think that they were also for you, especially given how completely unhinged you’d been with him to date. A man did not bring flowers to a woman who pelted him with snack cakes.

“Are they–-Caroline’s?” you guessed.

Another threat of a smile pressed at Lord Shouto’s mouth. “You speak as though you’ve never received flowers before.”

That arrested you. What did he mean, you? They were for you? You couldn’t help the way your mouth dropped open.

“I–me?” you asked, dumbfounded. “I’ve never—are you certain?”

Lord Shouto’s eyebrows went up, and there was a note of something amused in his deep tone. “I should hope so.”

You left your cup on the table beside you, unable to help the way you were drawn to the flowers. Your first bouquet! And probably your only, considering your prospects and the expense. But they were so lovely, and they smelled so bright and green and fresh.

A weird giddiness came over you, and you tried to squash the feeling down.

“I–Thank you, Lord Shouto,” you said, unable to help the embarrassingly touched note in your voice. “They are beautiful.”

Lord Shouto looked a little bit smug, you thought, as you fingered some of the petals, feeling their silky smoothness on the pads of your fingers. You’d have to put them in water. And maybe hide them in your room, if you got the chance. You doubted Mrs. Utsushimi would be pleased to discover Lord Shouto had brought you flowers, considering you were supposed to be keeping a low profile.

Which you were apparently utterly failing at.

You turned back to Lord Shouto, placing your flowers on the seat next to you, unwilling to be parted from them. It was probably strange, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care quite enough to try to be normal about it all.

“They don’t mean something like learn Greek, do they?” you asked him suspiciously.

Lord Shouto laughed, out loud this time, low and easy, and the sound went straight to your head.

“They do not,” he said, but he did not elaborate on whether they did mean something. You made a note to try and look them up later.

You had the sudden, wild thought that a man bringing a woman flowers meant something more than you were currently accounting for. And it also dawned on you that you were a man and woman alone–-an impropriety by any of good society’s standards, regardless of the fact that your first meeting had been much like this as well.

“Caroline and Mrs. Utsushimi should be back soon,” you blurted out, as if to reassure him that you had no inappropriate designs on him.

Lord Shouto looked unbothered, watching you with those mismatched eyes over the rim of his tea cup. “It does not matter to me. I am not here to see either.”

There was something teasing in his tone that warmed you all the way to your toes, and you had to school your face so as not to betray how much that pleased you.

You tried to remind yourself that he meant nothing by it, and that this could be nothing, in the end. And now was as good a time as any to try and talk Caroline up, now that you had Lord Shouto in your clutches.

“Caroline is good company, it is a loss,” you said. “Have you met her?”

“In passing,” Lord Shouto said. “She’s never flung anything, so I’m afraid she did not make a significant impression on me.”

You laughed. “But a better one, I hope.”

Lord Shouto did not say so.

“You’ll remember how pretty she is, though,” you said insistently. “And she does read Ancient Greek, I think. She’s accomplished on the piano forte.”

“So her hobbies are not so secret as yours?” Lord Shouto asked.

You smiled. “She is rather more accomplished. I must hide my own in order to save myself the embarrassment.”

Lord Shouto leaned forward in interest. “You’ll tell me at least one? You are aware I am a trustworthy secret keeper.”

He looked so earnest, and his tone was so genuine, you couldn’t do anything but give him what he wanted. Much may it please him to learn.

“My chief hobby is reading–though obviously not in any ancient languages. I’m…quite fond of novels, actually.” You were mostly fond of them because Camie was fond of them, and they were the principal artifact she had been able to smuggle you. But you quite liked all the tales of adventure, cunning, and head-spinning romance. The only type of adventure you’d seen thus far was this hare-brained scheme of yours–and it would not end nearly so well as the stories in your novels did.

“I too, enjoy reading,” Lord Shouto obliged you. “Though not usually novels.”

You smiled. “I’ll recommend you some, though I can’t tell if you’d enjoy them. They’re a lot of nonsense.”

“I believe I told you,” Lord Shouto said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on those thighs. “I like nonsense.”

For some reason, your heart did a weird fluttering motion in your chest. Your cheeks heated, and you grasped your tea cup tighter, as if holding on for safety.

“Well, then,” you said. “I’m certain I can oblige you. I’ll send you a list, perhaps.”

Lord Shouto looked pleased, blinking long and slow like a cat in a sunbeam. “I’d quite like that.”

You took another sip of your tea to hide some of your face, trying to reign yourself in. You had not meant for this conversation to turn towards you–Caroline was the objective here. You wracked your brain for another segue back to her.

“I’ll ask Caroline to send along recommendations as well–though they won’t be novels,” you said. “Perhaps something in Greek may tempt you.”

Lord Shouto regarded you curiously. “Your recommendations do not stand on their own?”

You frowned at him defensively. “My recommendations are the finest,” you sniffed.

A tiny smile lifted the corner of his lips, like he’d caught you. “Then I need only accept yours.”

“But really–Caroline–” you started, but Lord Shouto cut you off.

“Miss…Utsushimi,” he said, pausing strangely over the name. “It is not Caroline’s opinions I seek. My attentions are yours, and yours alone.”

You froze, a spear of ice plunging into your heart. His attentions were yours? What could he mean–which attentions, exactly? That sounded quite terribly like an admission of interest–-romantic interest–-except that would be insanity itself.

He was so very noble, and so very handsome, and you were beginning to learn that he was so very kind. You were the most horrible match imaginable for him.

You’d have to make sure he understood it.

“Lord Shouto, you understand I do not mean to marry,” you said, testing the waters.

“You’ve intimated as much,” he replied, his tone low. “Though your reasons…remain a mystery.”

For some reason, his eyes cut back to the mantle, lingering strangely over the Utsushimi family’s portraits.

“I would be a poor choice,” you said. “You understand my shortcomings already.”

Lord Shouto’s features arranged themselves into a mask of polite incredulity. “You think all a man wants in a wife is her knowledge of ancient languages?”

A laugh burst out of you. “In part.”

A tiny smile threatened the corner of Lord Shouto’s mouth again. “I assure you there are other qualities one might desire.”

Yes, like needlework and piano forte and singing and such. Your talents lay elsewhere–and plenty undiscovered.

“I also understand that your hand is all but promised to Princess Momo,” you told him. You hoped he understood what you were implying–whatever attentions he had been referencing, he needn’t lavish them on you.

“Do you?” Lord Shouto said softly.

You nodded earnestly. Lord Shouto looked thoughtful but did not elaborate.

You wondered what he was really doing here, in the Utsushimis’ sitting room. If he meant for you to be a distraction, a shield against the other debutantes while he waited on the princess. Or if he was perhaps open to marriage.

You decided it could not hurt to continue to peddle your Caroline agenda. Whatever Lord Shouto’s reasons, you were not a suitable prospect for him. But if he was open to marriage, Caroline would be a good match.

“Still, I’d like you to meet Caroline,” you said. “I’ll introduce you at the Satos’ dinner next week.”

“If you like,” Lord Shouto said vaguely, but you could tell he had no interest in her. His eyes drifted back to the mantle, roving over the miles of needlework and colorful oils of the portraits.

You sighed, sensing the enormity of the task before you.

After that, Lord Shouto steered the conversation back into calmer waters, trying to ferret out more about you. You managed to turn a great deal of it back on him, learning more about his family. You were surprised to learn he was the baby of his family, as he’d inherited his father’s title.

He told you about his eldest brother, Touya, who’d disowned the family to join some antimonarchist group in the south, and his other brother Natsuo, who’d rejected the title to become a man of the cloth instead. He talked fondly of his mother and his older sister, Fuyumi, who he seemed to visit often.

You liked the way he spoke about the people in his life, with patience and intention—even Touya, who it was clear had bad blood with the rest of the family. You could have listened to him for hours, luxuriating in his low, soft tone, the occasional conspiratorial twitch of his mouth.

He really was unlike anything you’d expected from a duke.

Eventually the tea ran cold, and the real world called back to you both. You saw Lord Shouto to the door with both regrets and a resolution forming in the back of your mind.

Whatever his interest in you, you would redirect it to Caroline, and kill two birds with one stone–Caroline could make her match, and Lord Shouto would be made to see what a pretty, qualified wife could be like. You carefully ignored the large part of you that recoiled at the thought.

It did not matter what you wanted, and you wouldn’t let yourself think on it. Lord Shouto was good, and he should make a suitable match.

You would arrange it so Lord Shouto and Caroline got a happy ending, just like in your novels.

You would make absolutely sure of it.

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

Navigating the Storm 2/4

Summary: Emma Swan navigates the aftermath of Neverland by trying to deal with everything the way she always has, by locking all her feelings away. Between having to share Henry with two other people now, her parents confession in the Echo Caves, her parents pushing her towards a man she has no interest in, and feelings for another man that she never expected to feel, Emma is at the end of her rope. *Post Neverland - No Curse*

Author’s Note: Thank you again to the wonderful @hollyethecurious for beta reading services! After the response to Part 1 - I am so nervous in hoping that Part 2 lives up to its predecessor. 

Rated M        3.1K        ao3         ffnet        Part 1        Under the cut, promise

Emma woke, wrapped in a warm embrace and her body immediately tensed in the fog of early morning brain haze. She never spent the night! Then she remembered where she was and who she was with and although a new fear popped into her head as she realized she was exactly where she wanted to be, Emma decided to unpack that later. They were both on their left sides and his right arm and leg cocooned her. She relished just how nice it felt to be right here, right now. Under normal circumstances Emma might feel smothered, but the crisp Maine air had penetrated the cabin a bit and his body heat was heavenly.

“Don’t run off, Swan,” he grumbled in a raspy, sleep-filled voice. “I can feel you thinking.”  

“What do you mean, ‘feel me thinking’?” she asked, mocking his husky morning voice and accent. She fell into giggles when he squeezed her in his arms and tickled her side. 

“Your body tensed as soon as you woke, that’s what I mean.”

“I actually wasn’t thinking about running off.” Emma sat up as she pondered how to translate what she was feeling. “I mean I was, but I was more thinking about not running. I know this is going to sound ridiculous because it sounds stupid in my own head, so don’t laugh.”

“Try me,” he said softly, as he sat up next to her. 

“Have you ever done things the same way for so long, or done the same thing so many times, that to not do the same thing scares you?”

Hook chuckled and nodded his head as he picked up on exactly what she was saying.

“I said no laughing,” she deadpanned.

“I wasn’t laughing at you darling, I merely know exactly the feeling you are referencing.”

Emma folded her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Let me share with you,” he offered, “since I see you are doubting me, despite your lie detector’s silence.”

Emma narrowed her eyes, damn him for always being so right about her. Open book, his words echoed in her head.

“Why do you think I left when you appealed to me to help you and your boy, to be a part of something?”

Emma took a moment to consider this, and though she’d always assumed it was because he was the ruthless Captain Hook, maybe there was something to what he was saying. “Because it was what you had always done? Look out for yourself, you’ll never get hurt.”

“Precisely Swan, but - and this is where I understand what you are talking about, when you appealed to me, every part of me wanted to stay and help. I wanted to stay for you. For the first time in centuries, my focus wasn’t on my revenge, and that? Well that scared the shite out of me.”

Emma was a little bit speechless, she’d always been thankful that he’d come back, but she’d never stopped to really question why. In fact, she was embarrassed to admit that at the time, she’d assumed he’d found some self-serving purpose to help them. Placing her hand on his cheek, she leaned in to kiss him gently. “Thank you for coming back,” she murmured. “I don’t think I ever truly thanked you. And since you’re always asking for gratitude in the form kisses, that’s what that kiss was for.” 

“Let me show you how I say you’re welcome.”

Emma laughed, a carefree little thing, as he tackled her to the bed and kissed her soundly. When Hook broke the kiss, Emma tried drawing him back in, but found he was sticking to his word. While she was disappointed to not experience more of this man while she had him in bed, she knew that this was one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for her, putting her well-being first, even when she didn’t want to.

“We should get you home, lass, your parents are probably worried about you. I don’t suppose you checked in with them on your talking phone?”

“It’s just a phone,” Emma giggled, secretly finding it adorable that he was trying to learn new world lingo, “not a talking phone. And no, I didn’t. I left my phone at the diner so no one would bug me.”

“Bollocks, Swan. You’ll be lucky if there isn’t a massive search party underway already,” he said as he jumped out of bed. 

Emma took his proffered hand and left the comfort of the bed as well. “Ugh, you’re probably right.”

“Let me walk you home?” Hook asked after they’d dressed.

“I’d like that,” Emma answered. “Think we have time to grab a cup of coffee at Granny’s?”

They walked in relative silence as Emma pondered her next steps in helping herself. She was tired of feeling like a prisoner in her own life. Hook had made some really good points last night. Who knew Captain Hook was a life coach in training?

By the time they arrived at the loft, Emma had made a choice. Grabbing his hook, since he was holding a coffee in his hand, she said, “I’m going to talk to my parents this morning, about everything.”

“I think that’s a smart idea, love,” Hook affirmed, before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Will you come inside with me?”

After choking on his coffee and coughing until he was almost blue in the face, he answered truthfully. “I think that is the opposite of a smart idea, but… as you wish.” 

“Thank you,” Emma sighed in relief. Before she could grab the handle to the door, it swung open. 

“David, it is her!” Snow called over her shoulder. “Emma! We were so worried about you!” she cried as she wrapped her arms around her daughter. “I heard the coughing at the door and hoped it was you. You didn’t come home and I was so scared someone or something had gotten to you.”

“I’m fine, mom,” Emma assured her, hugging her back with her free arm.

“What’s he doing here?” 

Emma gritted her teeth as she peered into the loft and saw Neal standing inside. What the hell are you doing here? she wanted to scream at him. “I asked him to come with me,” Emma answered with a measure of calmness she was drawing straight from where she was still gripping Hook’s hook.

David stepped forward to join his wife and daughter in an embrace. “I’m so glad you’re alright,” he whispered. “Come inside,” David said as he ushered Hook and Emma into the loft. 

“Where’d you spend the night,” Neal asked.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business,” Emma growled. 

“Why is he here?” Emma asked, looking between her parents.

“I called him this morning when you hadn’t come home,” Snow confessed, eyes downcast to the floor. “I asked him if he knew where you were and he got worried and came over. We were going to get a search party organized. I’m sorry, Emma.”

“It’s okay,” Emma said, reaching to grab her mom’s hand. She didn’t miss the way her mom’s eyes shot up to meet her own, relief clear in the relaxed set of her brows as Emma uttered those two simple words. She gave her mom’s hand a squeeze before letting it go. “Let’s talk.”

Turning to Hook, she nodded her head toward the kitchen and pulled him forward. They both sat down at the dining table, where Snow and David joined them.

“I’m sorry I worried you guys last night. It was… bad form,” she smiled at the turn of phrase, “of me to leave my phone at the diner and not let you guys know I was okay. Killian was kind enough to let me stay aboard the Jolly for the night.”

“You really think jumping straight into Hook’s bed is the best thing for Henry?” Neal sputtered.

“You’re out of line, Bae,” Hook snapped.

“It’s okay,” Emma whispered to Hook, then she stood from the table and walked straight over to Neal, until her face was inches from his. 

Anger boiled in her belly, but she tamped it down and instead spoke with composure she didn’t feel. “Again, I fail to see how that is any of your business. I don’t give a fuck what you think about who I spend my time with or where I spend my nights. You lost that right so long ago. And I would never do anything to jeopardize Henry’s best interest, so you can stop using that as a cover for your jealousy of Hook. Now you can stay or you can go, but the conversation I am about to have with my parents probably isn’t something you want to stick around for.” She whipped around without waiting for a response and sat back down next to Hook at the dining table.

Emma looked between her parents as they sat next to each other holding hands, and it made her happy that they had each other. “Mom, Dad, we have to talk,” Emma started, pausing only momentarily when the door to the loft opened and slammed shut. “I let everything build up after we got back from Neverland. Last night was the absolute wrong time to try to make you guys understand all I’ve been keeping inside, and I’m sorry that I went off and then stormed out. I’ve never been the best at talking things out.”

“Emma, we only want what’s best for you,” David said sincerely. 

“I know that,” she said confidently. She reached across the table to place her hand atop her parents' joined hands to make sure she had their attention. “Neal is not what’s best for me.”

“I’m sorry we were pressuring you toward him,” her father interjected. “It’s obvious now that something happened between you two, but your mother and I didn’t know that.”

“That’s what I wanted to discuss this morning,” Emma said, sitting back in her chair. “I want to tell you what I should have told you from the very first time you mentioned Neal and I getting back together. Killian once asked me if I’d ever been in love and I lied to him. I lied because I was ashamed to admit that I had been in love once and I’d gotten my heart broken like the stupid, naive teenager I was.” 

She looked over to the man himself, and took his hook in her hand again. He smiled at her, giving her a reassuring nod. “Look, I’m going to make this as quick as possible, because this is something I hate to even think about, let alone talk about. Without going into all the details, when I was sixteen, I met Neal. We got together and eventually decided we wanted a better life, more than petty crime and sleeping in stolen cars. Neal said he had a way for us to make that better life, but it involved one last job, and I was stupid enough to help. When all was said and done, he left me holding the bag for his crime, because Pinocchio had found him and told him that I was The Savior. An anonymous tip was made to the cops and I was arrested. I was charged with possession of stolen goods in an amount exceeding the grand theft larceny limit, and they put me in prison for eleven months.”

Hook shifted in his seat, and she didn’t miss the fury in his eyes. “That’s where I found out I was pregnant, that’s where your grandson was born,” Emma’s voice cracked with a sob as the pain she’d dealt with on her own came rushing back. “What exists between me and Neal now, can only be based on what happened between us then. I hated myself, and by extension I hated him, because I did the one thing I’d vowed my whole life that I’d never do if I had a child of my own. I gave him up.”

David and Snow sat silently, grief stricken as they listened to Emma tell the story of what had happened to her when she was still just a child herself. A steady flow of tears trailed down Snow’s cheeks as she faced the collateral damage of a choice she’d made. David was ashen as he thought back to the moment he’d placed his precious daughter into that wardrobe so she could be The Savior. 

“And I hate that I put those looks on your faces, I know you had no choice in sending me away, but I didn’t know it back then,” she continued, straining to get the words out through the tears. Emma leaned into Hook when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, helping her to fight the intrinsic urge to shut down, with just his supportive embrace. 

“I didn’t make the time to process anything that happened over the last few months, Neal returning, Neal dying, Henry being kidnapped, Neal being alive, mom wanting a new baby, Dad almost dying, Henry almost dying. Then we came home, and not only did I have to share Henry with Regina, but now I had to share him with Neal of all people. And he just wouldn’t let up about getting back together and putting the past behind us for Henry’s sake, like it was my fault that there is this wedge between us. The final straw was having you two push me toward Neal, it made things…  unbearable.”

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” her mother spoke first, “we had no idea.”

“How could you,” Emma said, “I tried to sweep everything under the rug instead of talking to you guys. I didn’t want your pity and I didn’t want to be the reason you’d pass judgement on Neal.”

Snows brows furrowed. “Emma, sweetie, parents are always going to lament the wrongs their children experience, it’s because we love you, not because we pity you. It’s especially painful, at least for us,” Snow said, looking at David for confirmation, “because we weren’t there to pick up the pieces with you.”  

“I’m sorry I never took the time to explain any of it,” Emma apologized.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” David spoke. “That… coward, he’s the only one at fault here. I’m just sorry I didn’t know sooner.”

Despite the somber mood, Emma couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Hook sat next to her, no doubt spoiling for a fight with Neal, and her father looked just as primed to knock her ex down a peg or two. “He’s still Henry’s father, and I didn’t want everyone in town to hate him because of what happened between me and him. That’s why I never said anything. And now that I have, I don’t need you, either of you,” she amended, looking between Hook and her father, “seeking to avenge me.”

“No sucker punches, then?” Hook asked, looking at David while rubbing his jaw subconsciously.

“Or sneak attacks with a crowbar?” the prince asked, eying Hook.

“Exactly,” Emma said, “I just need my parents to back me up when it comes to the fact that there is no me and Neal, and there never will be.”

“We promise,” David said solemnly. 

“Of course,” Snow agreed. 

“And just so there is no question, I am happy that you guys want to try for another baby. I was just a little taken off guard when you mentioned it in Neverland, I was already struggling with the whole orphan game that Pan was playing. I’ve always felt replaceable, a byproduct of being in foster care, and no one has ever stuck around, so it took me a hard minute to realize that you weren’t trying to replace me.”

“We just got you back!” Snow exclaimed. “We would never try to replace you, Emma.”

“I know that, logically. Like I said, some of this was my bullshit that I needed to deal with. I just wanted you guys to know that I am happy for you, and I also needed you to understand where my head has been these past two weeks.”

“Thank you for trusting us enough to confide all of that to us,” David said. “I hope you know we are always here for you. And Hook,” David continued as he extended his hand across the table, “thank you for taking care of our baby girl last night, she needed someone and I’m glad you were there.” 

Hook scratched behind his ear as he tried to come up with an apt response. His instinct was always toward sarcasm or innuendo, but he knew now was the time for neither. Accepting the handshake, Hook replied graciously. “You’re welcome, Dave. I’m glad I was there, too.”

“All this talking has made me really hungry,” Emma said. “Anyone up for breakfast at Granny’s?”

“Why don’t you and Hook go,” Snow suggested. “Your father and I already ate and now that there is no search party, we can still make our appointment to look at a property.”

“A property?” Emma asked.

“We want more space,” her father started, “and I miss having land and animals around.”

“I guess it is a little crowded in here,” Emma laughed.

“Not space from you,” Snow corrected, “you’re more than welcome to come with us when we find a new place!” 

The cheerful hope behind Snow’s voice almost made Emma feel guilty about the fact that she already knew there was no way she would be moving with them. “Thanks, mom.” Emma didn’t miss the swell of elation that crossed her mom’s face at the sentiment. “You ready to go eat?” Emma asked Killian.

“Aye, love.”

“Maybe you guys can tell me and Killian about the property over dinner this week?” Emma asked, and she didn’t miss the shocked expressions on each face in the room as so many things in that sentence gave each pause for different reasons. 

“Sure, honey, that sounds nice,” David answered, a genuine smile touching his eyes. 

The four said their goodbyes and then Emma and Hook headed out the door hand-in-hand.

“Does she mean like a double date?” Snow asked.

“I don’t know,” David admitted, hands on his hips, “but I think he’s good for her.”

“You? You think Hook is good for our daughter?”

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Snow said, a smile ticking her lips. “What a difference a trip to Neverland will make. You couldn’t stand Hook.”

“That’s before I knew what kindred spirits he and Emma are. I think he understands her in a way we never will.”

Snow’s face crumpled a little and her husband was quick to pull her into his arms to reassure her that he hadn’t meant it as a slight to them as parents. “Emma knows we love her, all I’m saying is she and Hook have a lot in common. They understand each other just as you and I have always understood each other.” 

Tagging some folks, please let me know if you want to be added or removed ♥

@laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @hookedonapirate @wordsmith-storyweaver @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @wyntereyez @hooklineandswan @teamhook @let-it-raines @spartanguard @whimsicallyenchantedrose @tiganasummertree @apromisednightcap @xemmaloveskillianx @elizabeethan @cocohook38 @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @timeless-love-story @jennjenn615 @girl-in-a-tiny-box @thesschesthair @galadriel26 @ultraluckycatnd @lifeinahole27 @therooksshiningknight @kday426 @djlbg @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @delightfully-difficult-pirate @thejollyswan @csalltheway @xarandomdreamx @resident-of-storybrooke @vvbooklady1256 @withheartfulloflove @mcakers @gingerchangeling @searchingwardrobes @snowbellewells @nadine200179 @alexa-fangirl-forever

[anathemafiction]

Better than Gold

Commission made by the lovely Foxx.

The Pitch: During a heated argument, the MC confesses to Rafael.

Rafael's POV.

3.1k words

His mood is dark.

As dark as the clouds that are gathering in the sky, mounting steadily on top of each other, building an impenetrable wall that holds the pale moon hostage. Not even the stars can break through. The sky looks like a pitch-black ocean, turned upside down. Falling down on earth.

Most of the night lamps are neglected, their oil dried long ago, and almost all the houses around have their shutters firmly closed. The night is dark and getting darker. The wind picks up and with it, tendrils of cold sweep through his thin clothes. Up ahead, all his dark eyes can see is the faint outline of a broken wall. He walks three more steps before turning left, and an alley opens up before him.

Rafael does not need light. He knows these streets like the back of his hand. He could do, however, without the rain.

His lips sneer as his fingers curl into tight fists. The hood thrown low over his eyes is soaking wet, as are his boots and God damned Rafael is pretty sure his coin purse is too. It suddenly seems to weight twice more than before. Which isn't saying much, since it weighted fairly nothing to begin with. His sneer increases in intensity as his mood darkens further.

Just wanna put this whole night behind.

It had been a waste of time. A proper fuck up. Rafael could not believe he had fallen for it. A black eye, a tussle with a city guard, and worst of all, his pride wounded. That's all that amateur's lead had given him.

Never again. He wasn't that desperate, Rafael lies to himself.

He looks up, sees the church towers up ahead, turns right into a shadow-filled street. At the end of it, warm light shines amidst the gloomy night from a two-story building that seemed crooked to the right. Rafael relaxes almost instantly at the sight. It wasn't much to look at, but on this cursed, wet night, Rafael was damn glad to see it.

His little tavern. A shady, unsavory place full of even shadier, unsavory people. But Rafael was nothing if not self-aware and as he walked closer, tongue swirling in the hole between his teeth, sweat gathering beneath his wet, dirty clothes, hair sprawled across his forehead. Blood on his clothed thigh. As he walked through the revolving doors made of wood so worn it was almost white, Rafael could not deny it. Not to himself.

The idiot's right. I'm a damn bastard.

Inside, the night is well underway. Which is to say, the place looks as deserted as always. A few patrons lounge about the limited tables, most of them alone. Dark and somber. Depressingly staring down at their drinks. Rafael spies a woman in the corner with a heavy cape covering her whole body, eyes frantically looking around. His scowl lessens. She can cover all she wants, but the cape itself is clue enough.

She has coin.

His step falters for only a moment before he shakes his head and walks to the counter, turning his back on her. He had enough troubles for one night. He wasn't keen on jumping right into another mess.

"Usual," he barks, brows lowered in irritation, but the innkeeper had already drawn him a full tankard of black, cold beer. Just like he likes it. Rafael takes it, throwing a coin onto the counter, and leaves with a nod.

His usual table is empty, which he's thankful for. He falls down into the only chair with a low groan, his thigh throbbing, but as he takes the first gulp down his throat, the pain vanishes from his mind. "Ahh," he breathes, slumping back. Rafael spreads his legs under the table and closes his eyes, neck falling over the back of the chair. The beer is watered and dead, but right now, feels better than gold.

The tavern is quiet, his fingers around the mug pleasantly cool, the air is warm and slowly drying his clothes. Rafael takes a deep breath and feels stress leaking out. His dark mood lifts. If only a little bit.

The doors make a whooshing sound as they fly open, and wind sweeps quickly into the common room. A cold shiver runs down his spine and Rafael opens his eyes begrudgingly to sneer at whoever had come through the door. He looks over his shoulder, dark eyes narrowing-

And nearly falls down his chair.

(…)

Here is a sneak peek!  The full commission is available on Ko-fi for one-time supporters (this includes those who have requested a commission or donated!) or monthly subscribers!

The Commission. 

Always fun to write in our dearest bastard POV! Thank you so much for requesting me, and I hope you like it!!  🖤

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