Chapter Text
Caffeinated
The first time the pirate saw her, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her. Like him, her life was connected to the sea. Only, instead of living on it, she lived in it. She was always bouncy, like perhaps she had eaten too much sugar and refused to come down from the high. He himself had come to learn of many of the fattening, addictive foods the Land Without Magic possessed. Many women had fallen prey to his undeniable charm, and yet, she seemed completely impervious to it. She gave him the same smile that she gave to every other person she passed, and then she left.
Captain Hook was not - ever - treated like everyone else by a woman.
It was one of the many simple rules of his life, even in Storybrooke: women loved him; the Crocodile deserved to die; Emma Swan went out of her way to ignore his advances; Granny’s lasagna was the best you could get in town.
Which was why it was so strange when after weeks of pursuing her, she came to him.
“Hi, Hook!” Ariel greeted happily, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Hello, love,” he replied softly, repressing a frown at the knowledge that he had been trying to start a conversation with her for the last twenty-eight days, and all he had to do was say “hi.”
“Did you know that in this world, they call courting ‘dating’?” the cute redhead asked with innocent curiosity.
“Yes, actually. Have you been thinking of giving it a try?” Hook pasted on his most charming smile, all teeth.
Ariel smiled back brightly, “Mm-hmm. I’ve been exploring everything they have here, but I realized today that I hadn’t tried dating . It seems interesting. And Emma said you’re a ‘womanizer’ which I think means you like spending time with females.”
Hook scowled slightly at the term. It wasn’t incorrect, but was that all the lovely Swan thought of him? “That sounds about right, love. Are you asking me on a date?” He winked at her, and his implications seemed to fly completely over her head.
“I think so, but I’m not sure if I’m doing it right.” She furrowed her eyebrows thoughtfully.
Hook sighed internally. It was hard to seduce someone when they didn’t even know what seduction was. “I think you’re doing fine.” Another toothy smile. “And I gladly accept.”
Ariel bounced up and down, energy radiating from every pore of her lovely, pale skin. “Yay! This seems fun, and we haven’t even started! I think this is my second favorite discovery.”
“What’s your first, then, love?” Hook asked curiously.
“Caffeine!” The mermaid smiled and started bouncing away. “How about here,” she gestured towards all of the tables surrounding them in Granny’s, “tonight, at seven.”
“Sounds splendid.” Hook nodded encouragingly.
“Wonderful!” Ariel squealed happily. Then she walked out the door, gleefully muttering, “I love caffeine; it’s so much fun!”
Hook sighed, “That’s because you haven’t experienced withdrawal yet.”
Notes:
If you have any prompts, I'd love to see them here or on Tumblr where my pen name's the same. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 2: Empty Warehouse (Rumplestiltskin & Henry & Zelena)
Notes:
Warnings for Major Character Death apply.
Chapter Text
Empty Warehouse
The lines were mesmerizing. They twisted and turned in perfect arcs and rows. He would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t proud of it. He had been commanded to do it to the best of his abilities, and even though the invisible chains tightened around his chest and the hidden knives dug into his skull, it was his work. Even if he had had no choice but to comply, he did it. And it looked flawless.
Perhaps that was all his life would be now. Appreciating his work because he had to do it. Accepting that it wasn’t his choice, so he should do his best to please her. At least the pain was going to be over. Once his masterpiece was put to good use, he wouldn’t remember any of it. The heartbreak of losing Bae and Belle would be gone. The shame and agony that came with being a slave would disappear. He would believe himself to be in love, maybe even have a family. Granted, it would be with an obsessive psychopath, but he wouldn’t remember that, either. It would all be perfect. Maybe he did want to go.
“Good job, pet. Obviously your last lesson paid off.” Zelena smiled venomously.
“Thank you, Mistress,” Rumplestiltskin answered automatically.
She came to stand in front of him, running the flat of his blade across his freshly shaven cheek. She knew she owned him, and worse, she knew he knew that, too. Centuries before, he had sold his soul for a chance to save his boy, and now he was paying the price. Belle wouldn’t blame him for what was going to happen, he knew, but maybe - in the deepest part of his heart, where Zelena could never reach - he would remember her when everything was reset. He didn’t know if that made him feel better or all the more hopeless. It seemed like a cruel fate: being taunted by the thought of a True Love whose face you couldn’t recall and whose touch you would never feel. Maybe, though, it would be a blessing. Perhaps that little tickle on the base of his neck when he saw a book would be his saving grace, his light within a universe of pitch black. Was it possible that every time he saw chestnut hair out of the corner of his eye, he would feel a warm sense of comfort and the lingering hope of love? Then again, it could just as easily bring him a happiness that his fingertips could barely brush. Hope was both something he wanted desperately, and something he wished to burn. He had been in Pandora’s Box, and he knew what a horrible thing it was. He had been encased in the endless possibilities of his life, and all the things he dreamed of. They had all been twisted, though; things he thought he wanted, but knew he didn’t deserve. Belle had been there. And she had left. He didn’t know if that was hope for love, or hope for peace, but both scenarios had been agonizing. It was true for him, as sad as it may be, that peace only came with no emotions. A quiet ocean that did not attempt to swallow him when he rested.
“I have everything I need. Now all we must do is wait,” Zelena informed gleefully.
“As you say, Mistress.” Rumplestiltskin bowed his head submissively, anger and defiance having fled him weeks ago.
He wanted to honor his son’s memory, but it was simply too late. Perhaps his conscience would rest more easily once he forgot his promise to make the green witch suffer.
That was when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of red and grey, then a quiet shuffle of feet. Although the warehouse echoed, Zelena seemed too caught up in her impending victory to notice. Either that, or it was one of her monkeys.
“What do you say, pet? How does a nice, celebratory glass of wine sound?” the witch asked sweetly, sharply waiting for his answer.
With his eyes discreetly trailing the moving body that secretly shared the room with them, his answer came without thought, “We haven’t anything to celebrate yet, the heroes may still pull through.”
Before he could process exactly what he said, Zelena’s hand was around his throat. His eyes stopped wandering the room and locked on hers. She snarled at him and pressed the edge of the dagger to his jaw menacingly.
“You doubt my victory?” she hissed.
Rumplestiltskin realized his distracted mistake with growing regret. “No, of course not, Mistress. I meant nothing by what I said. The wine sounds lovely.”
“Now you’re lying to me!” Zelena pressed the dagger further into his jaw, and he winced when he felt thick, sticky drops of blood run down his neck, over her thumb. “Here I thought you were learning your lessons, pet .”
“I am, Mistress, I promise, I’ll be good,” Rumplestiltskin pleaded.
“Stop!”
Zelena’s head snapped to the side at the gravelly voice, and the imp did his best to turn towards it. And his heart dropped.
There, standing straight and tall, bravely holding his other grandfather’s sword, was Henry Mills, his grandson.
For a moment, Rumplestiltskin could do nothing but stare out of the corner of his eye. His boy’s son had grown so big in the missing year. Henry was almost taller than him, and his voice was much deeper than it had been before he had gone to New York. He looked so courageous and determined, just like his mother - both of them. He really was a Charming.
“What are you doing here, you little rat?!” Zelena snarled.
Henry barely wavered at her threatening tone. “I’m here to free my grandfather and stop you!”
The witch cackled. “They sent a little boy to stop the greatest spell in the history of magic? I’m offended.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of me to lose, Zelena, because I’m definitely not afraid of you!” Henry took a step forward, keeping his sword in front of him. Jones had clearly been working with him.
The witch released Rumplestiltskin in favor of walking towards the boy. When the imp attempted to follow, she flicked the dagger and he froze in place, awaiting her next command. Henry matched her pace, ready to take the first swing. When they stood just a few feet apart, the young prince lunged forward, taking his first stab. Zelena easily stepped out of the way. When Henry swung his blade at her neck, she waved her hand, sending the weapon flying somewhere behind him.
“Did you really think you could win?” Zelena sneered.
“I had hope, and I had love from my family.” Henry sneered back at her.
“Do they even know where their precious little brat is?” she laughed.
Henry looked slightly guilty at that, but quickly hardened his countenance again. “They would be proud of me for trying.”
Zelena smirked. “You poor dear. You didn’t even leave a note? Your mothers will be worried sick. Regina, oh, she’ll be scared to death.” Zelena adapted a mocking tone, “But you came here with hope and love, so it’s all right.”
“That’s already more than you have,” Henry spat.
Zelena’s face contorted in rage. Her hand plunged into his chest, grasping for his heart.
Rumplestiltskin finally managed to open his mouth, “Zelena, please!”
She stopped moving and turned, and he almost thought she was going to correct him with a “Mistress,” but she didn’t. “This would kill you, wouldn’t it, Rumple dear? Knowing that this little worm is all you have left of your son? All the time to find him and now they’ll both be dead.”
“Please, I beg you, don’t. Just let him go.” The imp’s eyes watered as he watched his grandson wince in pain at the twitch of the witch’s fingers in his chest.
“Imagine how Regina would feel,” Zelena mused, acting like he hadn’t spoken. “She’d be heartbroken.”
“ Please ,” Rumplestiltskin whispered.
Through most of his life, he had believed in heroes. They represented everything he had wanted: someone to come and save him from a life of poverty with an abusive father; someone to fight the darkness back; someone to rescue him from all the pain and suffering.
“Fine, I won’t kill him.” Zelena’s hand retreated from Henry’s chest.
He needed a hero now. And perhaps he had lost hope of ever finding one, but now he knew.
“You will.”
Heroes weren’t real.
His life would be perfect, he mused. He could feel his fingers closing over his grandson’s throat, like Zelena’s had done over his an eternity ago. He would forget. When he squeezed, he sobbed apology after apology to his precious little boy’s son. None of this would be real to him. Henry looked at him with adoration and forgiveness.
“I love you, Grandpa.”
And when Rumplestiltskin felt the muscles pull taut and the bones snap under his fingers with Zelena laughing in his ear, he decided that if he ever found a real hero, he would kill them.
Then the body fell limp to the ground, and he was in an empty warehouse again.
Chapter 3: Rose (Rumplestiltskin/Belle)
Chapter Text
Rose
The first time it happened, it was sweet and unexpected, following the revelation that he had a son. An obnoxious bout of knocks interrupted their conversation, and he flicked his hand, swinging the door open. Briefly, she considered trailing behind him to see who it was, but when he returned, he informed her that it was just an old woman selling flowers. Decades into the future, she still wouldn’t believe that, but he needn’t know.
The rose had been lovely: full, the perfect shade of red, freshly scented, and from him. It led to a little moment of curtsies and bows, and she felt like she was back home in her father’s court. When she turned to cut the delicate flower, she closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply. She could almost see the picture perfectly: He was a prince - or even a peasant, really, it didn’t matter - and it was another party full of fake smiles. Her father had invited too many suitors to count, and yet she had counted every one as they came with charmless smiles and inappropriate glances. But there he was, a man with a gentle smile and a demure bow, giving her a simple rose. She was enraptured, and no matter what her father said, he was the one.
After her little fantasy, she told her story, and then he freed her. She didn’t know what to make of it, but he freed her. And she left, only to realize she didn’t want to be anywhere else.
~~~{@
The second time, she had gasped in surprise. They had been through so much, and yet he still remembered her favorite flower. He had handed her the rose with a simple “my lady,” and had bowed, just like the first time. That time, though, instead of leather and scales, it had been silk and smooth skin that adorned him. He was so different, and yet so much the same. They had been starting over, trying to find their happy beginning, and it had been such a simple gesture that had had her throwing her arms around his neck. Maybe it was their first date, but they had already been through a world of emotional pain; why hold back?
“I love you, Rumple.”
~~~{@
The third time, instead of giving a bow after the single red rose was safely in her hands, he descended to his knee. Her hand went to her mouth and happy tears streamed down her face. She closed her eyes, just for a moment, and she saw it again: Her imp in leather pants in her father’s court, making the high ladies gape and their husbands puff their chests out. And yet, after hearing tales of babies being stolen and made into soup, hearts being ripped from chests, and vicious deals being struck, a simple rose was perfectly balanced between his fingers. He wore a playful smile, but his merry eyes shielded an endearing insecurity that she wouldn’t take the beautiful flower. She didn’t want a prince; he was the one.
It only took one word, and she fell in love all over again:
“Yes.”
~~~{@
When she walked down the aisle - a white carpet laid perfectly straight in the woods - she knew what was ahead of her. Others, and even her fiance himself, had insistently warned her that she was running head first into darkness and evil, but only she seemed to know the truth. She was walking towards love and happiness. She was walking towards a man who would try to give her the world. But she didn’t want the world; he was enough; he was the one.
And when they were pronounced husband and wife and ordered to kiss, she noticed it. She caught the faint scent, and when their lips parted, she looked down.
There, where his pocket square would normally rest was a rose; what marked the moment they fell in love, witnessed them finally giving in to it.
~~~{@
When everyone left after the Christmas dinner and opening of presents, Rumplestiltskin and Belle sat down on their couch, admiring the huge tree in their living room.
“Yet another reason I love magic,” he whispered in her hair.
Belle smiled. “What’s that?”
“We won’t have to go through hell repackaging the ornaments and dragging that monstrosity out of here,” he sighed.
“Sometimes, I love magic, too,” she agreed.
They sat in silence for another moment, holding each other and basking in the firelight. Bae, Emma, and Henry were a happy family and spent time with the couple regularly; the heroes weren’t first to blame Rumplestiltskin when things went wrong anymore; and Regina and Robin were finding a way to make things work. Everything was perfect.
“Rumple?” Belle whispered to grab his attention.
“Yes, my love?”
She smiled against his neck, “I have another present for you.”
He raised his eyebrows and suggestively asked, “Is that so?”
Belle smacked him lightly on the arm, “Not that!”
He mock-pouted, but a smile twitched at the corner of his lips when he released her from the cuddling. She stood to go grab the present she had hidden in the tree.
When she walked back to the couch, he was looking curiously at her, trying to get a peek at what was behind her back.
He didn’t seem surprised at all when she handed him a rose. A smile split his face and he held it to his nose, closing his eyes to remember their story.
Belle sat down next to him again. “I figured I would continue our trend of having a red rose to mark the most important parts of our time together: when we fell in love; when we were beginning our Happily Ever After; when we were to be bound by love; when we were married; and now."
Rumplestiltskin looked at her with a baffled expression. “Whatever do you mean, sweetheart?”
Belle smiled widely as tears began to fall down his face.
“I’m pregnant.”
Rumplestiltskin kissed her, pouring all his love into it. “I have the perfect name if it’s a girl.”
Chapter 4: Tiara (Emma/Rumplestiltskin)
Chapter Text
Tiara
Emma stared at it, mesmerized. She reached out to touch it, but pulled her hand back quickly; it almost felt like a sin. The tiara had been her grandmother’s, someone who learned kindness and humility; it had been given to her mother, where it taught bravery and strength in times of adversity; now, it was being gifted to her; what was she supposed to learn? When she looked at it, instead of seeing diamonds and silver, she saw responsibility and power that she didn’t want. She was being pushed into a world that wasn’t hers, and she was expected to rule it. She didn’t want to be a queen; only a short time ago, she was an orphan. Lonely little girls didn’t get to be royalty, they didn’t get suitors, and they definitely didn’t get to be queen. It was all scary, and it was all a dream. For so long, all she had wanted was a fairy tale life, and now she had one.
So she climbed out the window.
The wind whipped through her hair, and ten minutes later, climbing onto the roof of a castle didn’t seem like such a good idea. Emma sat down anyways, staring out at the ocean. The waves crashed against the rocks, and the cacophony of the world surrounded her, drowning her thoughts until her senses were filled.
“Your mother had her reservations at first, too, you know,” came a tittering voice from behind her.
Emma jumped slightly, nearly falling off the edge into the water. “Geez, Gold, don’t you have someone else to be twisting to your creepy little whims.”
Rumplestiltskin plopped down next to her, and she did a double take for the eighth time. No matter how often he visited her to make sure she was all right, the scales always caught her off guard. He was so strange here, almost like someone dipped him in golden glitter. And for all his new quirks, she found herself missing some of his old ones. His face was much more expressive in this land, but she missed the way his eyes would sparkle ever so slightly when she figured something out, or the way he made walking with a cane look so elegant, or the infuriating way his lip would twitch when she was being especially childish, as though he wanted to laugh. Of course, it wasn’t completely bad. His leather pants were amazing .
“My whims are not creepy, nor are they little , thank you very much,” Rumplestiltskin held up a finger to make his point. That was another thing: his hands were always moving. Before, he had always been so much more reserved.
“Whatever,” Emma muttered, letting a silence fall between them.
“Once, when your mother was faced with a great decision, she ran away,” he said, casually admiring his blackened nails.
Emma looked over. “Really? The great Snow White ran away from a problem? Don’t they teach you not to do that in princess one-o-one?”
He giggled, making her cringe. “She ran because she was afraid of making the wrong decision and causing more trouble, but that’s not why you’re up here, is it, my dear?”
Emma looked down at her toes, swinging her legs lazily through the air. “When I was in foster care, one of the homes I stayed at used to play Disney movies all the time. At first, I lived for the nights when I could watch the princess fall into the prince’s arms, but eventually, all I saw was a Happy Ending.”
“Whatever’s so wrong with that?” Rumplestiltskin leaned forward, trying to get a better view of her face.
“Because it wasn’t my Happy Ending; it was something I could never have. I waited by my window, but I never had a knight in shining armor; I never had love at first sight; I never had parents , or even a home. I was just a sad little girl who couldn’t find a family,” Emma sighed.
“Careful, dearie, I think you just made one of the birds commit suicide,” the imp huffed.
Emma shot him a glare. “All I ever wanted was a place where I belonged.”
“And now you have that. Do you really want to go back to blowing out a candle on a cupcake you bought yourself?” he asked curiously, showing no judgment in his voice.
“No, I love my family. But I was an orphan for twenty-eight years, there’s no way they can erase that. I’m not a queen, I’m not the Savior, I’m not even sure I want to be Emma Swan anymore,” she lamented.
“You’re not going to be queen just now. That will only come in time,” Rumplestiltskin reminded. “And you don’t have to be the Savior, you don’t even have to be Emma Swan.”
“But then, who am I?” Emma looked at him with raw emotion, not knowing how else to ask for help. She had never done this before.
“You’re a hero. Heroes can be whoever they wish.” His fingers brushed hers, and he changed. His shoulders relaxed, his hands stopped fidgeting, and his eyes lost their crazy edge.
“I’m not a hero. I’m just somebody who was in the right place at the right time. All I did was play the part, and now, my role is over. Even if I wanted to be, I’m nobody’s hero,” Emma whispered.
When he spoke, his voice was deep, and when she closed her eyes, it was almost like they were back in Storybrooke. “You’re my hero.”
“You don’t mean it, Gold. You manipulate words just as easily as people,” she hissed.
She could feel his breath against her lips, but she still didn’t open her eyes. “Maybe I do, but I never lie, do I?”
“Don’t let me be alone, please,” Emma begged.
“Never,” he promised.
She felt his lips press against hers, and where she figured they would be rough and dry, they were soft and warm. His fingers finally wrapped around her hand, and she felt his smooth palms and calloused fingertips glide across her skin. She always thought he had never seen a day of work, but maybe she was wrong about more than one thing. His lips moved along hers in a dance that felt like words, actions, and thoughts. She felt you can do this , I’m here for you , and whenever you need me in his firm grasp on her fingers.
When he pulled away, she finally allowed herself to open her eyelids. She saw the overflowing emotions in his deep, dark eyes and that little lip twitch that usually led to a smirk, and-
“You’re... you, again,” Emma breathed.
For a moment, he looked confused, and then he looked down. His hand released hers, and he jerked back slightly, wobbling precariously where he was perched on the roof. His fingers traced the back of his hand, and then his face. He looked into her eyes, clearly startled.
“True Love,” Rumplestiltskin whispered.
Emma gave him her look . “Okay, we just kissed… once . Don’t you think that’s pushing things a little?”
He looked at her with surprise, like he had forgotten she was there. “No, no, I meant you. You are True Love. When you kissed Graham, you brought his memories back, and now that you’ve kissed me,” he snapped his fingers, and she looked around, expecting to see something, “no more magic. You’ve broken my curse.”
Emma searched his face. “You don’t look all that upset. Shouldn’t you be, like, throwing me off the tower and ripping yourself in half or something?”
He gave her a sardonic expression. “Come now, Your Highness. I’ve found my son, I’m back in my home land, and I have the most beautiful princess in all the realms sitting next to me; I think my magic served its purpose. It was only ever meant to protect the ones I love, and now I have them, safe and sound. What more could I ask for?”
“You could ask for another kiss,” Emma suggested.
Rumplestiltskin smiled widely. “Your Highness, may I have the honor?”
“As many times as you want.” She smiled.
He leaned in. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I think I can keep this one.”
Their lips met again, and she felt sparks down her spine and dizziness in her head. Maybe she wasn’t ready to be queen, but she could put on the tiara. Emma Swan didn’t need a knight in shining armor; she had an imp in leather pants, instead.
Chapter 5: Sunburn (Regina & Henry)
Chapter Text
Sunburn
“Mom, it hurts!” Henry pouted, barely holding back his tears.
“I know, honey, just let me finish.” Regina continued rubbing lotion over his shoulders.
Being a mother was difficult, as she was coming to learn. He was only five, and yet, it felt like she had never lived a second without him. Before she had become the infamous “Evil Queen,” she had easily imagined herself being a mother, fixing all the wrongs her mother had done, having the maternal relationship with her children that she had so desperately wanted for so many years. That had been a dream that included Daniel, though, and when he died, her fantasy of family had been buried in the pasture with him.
Now that she had Henry, she knew she would never let him go.
Her boy squirmed. “I don’t like the gooey stuff. It’s cold.”
Regina put her free hand on his cheek and turned his head to face her. “I’m sorry, but you’re being so brave for me, my little prince.”
“I’m not little!” Henry insisted.
She sighed. “Even when you’re all grown up and you have left to go save the world, you’ll still be my little prince. Is that okay?”
Henry looked down and pursed his lips in contemplation. “Even if I’m a knight?”
“Even then.” Regina smiled.
Henry gave her a big, toothy grin. “Okay!” Then as an afterthought, “But, Mom?”
“Yes, Henry?” Regina resumed rubbing the ointment on his sunburn.
“I’ll never leave, even to save the whole world! I love you too much.” Henry giggled.
Regina’s eyes watered slightly, and she tried to brush them discreetly while still tending his burn. “Oh, honey, I love you, too. More than you could ever know.”
“But I love you more!” he shot back quickly.
Regina finished applying the salve and kissed his forehead. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”
“It’s true!” Henry cooed.
The Evil Queen smiled down at him. The Curse was perfect; her life was perfect. There was nothing that could separate her from the thing she loved most.
Until Once Upon A Time appeared in Snow White’s closet, and Henry left to save the world.
Chapter 6: Text (Emma, Regina, Rumple, Snow, Charming, Henry & Zelena)
Notes:
Sorry I haven't posted in a while, but my muse decided to go to Hawaii without me, so I had to wait for it to come back. :}
Chapter Text
Text
Emma’s Phone
hey guys. have u seen henry
Regina: You lost my son?
no…
i lost OUR sun
Regina: Ugh. He’s not that hard to keep track of!
u only say that because he nvr
bites u & runs away
Regina: Are you talking about my son or a dog?
y cant he b both. mary & david r both
Regina: That’s not what they meant when they said “we are both.”
how wood u no. u werent their
Rumplestiltskin: Miss Swan, please. Your grammar is making me want to sic Belle on you.
y wood u make belle sick
Rumplestiltskin: …
Rumplestiltskin: Why are you two having such an agonizingly long conversation in a group chat? It sounded like a truck drove over a goat with prostate cancer.
Regina: Why would it sound like that?
Rumplestiltskin: Because my ringtone for this chat is a truck driving over a goat with prostate cancer.
were da hell u get that
Rumplestiltskin: It said I could take a real time video and make it my ringtone.
Regina: …
Regina: Back to finding my son.
OUR sun
Charming: What about the sun
Rumplestiltskin: More invalids! Use punctuation!
Charming: What r u talking about I text fine
Rumplestiltskin: I’m going to rip my eyes out.
Snow: guys, i think i just saw henry.
Regina: WHERE?!
where
Charming: Whos Henry
Rumplestiltskin: I hate you all.
Snow: he was getting ice cream with nicholas.
the lil kid who alwys looks like hes
gonna pee if his sisters not their
Snow: is that a question or a statement?
Rumplestiltskin: No one can tell BECAUSE IT LOOKS LIKE HER GRAMMAR CAME OUT OF A BOWL OF CHICKEN LETTER SOUP!
Charming: Ive had that soup Its good
Snow: i know, charming, we shared it. remember?
Charming: Uh
Zelena: Don’t take it personally. He doesn’t remember what he did five seconds ago.
Regina: All he has to do is scroll up to see what he typed, though.
Zelena: Exactly.
u can go up 2 c what u did 5 secs
ago
Zelena: What’s wrong w/ her?
Regina: So many things.
shes write
Rumplestiltskin: I’m going to strangle you.
u dont no me like that. what wood
belle think
Rumplestiltskin: If she saw your grammar, she would let it slide.
r u saying my grammer cant slide
write now. u cant put it in time out.
it can slide if it wants 2 slide
Rumplestiltskin: …
Henry: U guys no i’m on the chat, right?
Regina: Henry!
who r u impostor
Rumplestiltskin: How did you spell ‘impostor’ right?
majik
Regina: Why did you run away from Miss Swan?
Henry: I didn’t. She gave me money & told me 2 go by some ice cream w/ my “little midget friend.”
Charming: I thought we were talking about the sun
Zelena: I’m surprised u thought at all.
Charming: I got a headache
Zelena: I am now less surprised.
Snow: don’t worry, baby, i’ll come get you.
Charming: Thank u sweets Ur the best
Snow: no, you are.
Charming: No u
brb i gotta throw up
Rumplestiltskin: I already vomited. Belle is giving me an odd look.
Snow: you guys just don’t understand love. i’ll be there in a little bit, sugar pudding.
Charming: Ok my sweet frosting
Rumplestiltskin: I will murder your second born.
Charming: Ur prengnt pudding pop
Snow: i am?!
Charming: U r
Rumplestiltskin: I think that was a question, Your Highness.
Charming: Im gonna b a daddy again
Rumplestiltskin: God bless the world.
Henry: I didn’t no u were religious Grandpastiltskin.
Rumplestiltskin: Now’s as good a time as any.
whend u get a kool name like
grandpastiltskin
Rumplestiltskin: When Prince Henry gave me one.
prince henry
Rumplestiltskin: Indeed.
Snow: i’m not pregnant, charming.
Charming: Ur not preganana
Snow: no
Zelena: Ur all stupid.
Regina: Go suck apples, greenie.
Zelena: Go suck broomsticks, queenie.
Rumplestiltskin: ???
dont ? lojik gold
Rumplestiltskin: This is Belle. I’m taking away Rumple’s phone because he just threw up for a second time and he has sparks popping out of strange places. Emma your grammar makes me want to be the goat Rumple ran over. I’m buying you a dictionary for your birthday.
whats a diconry
weres henry
nm hes nex 2 me
Regina: Good bye, Miss Swan.
Zelena: Bye, losers.
Chapter 7: Barstool (Regina/Hook)
Chapter Text
Barstool
“Another,” Killian ordered gruffly.
The bartender scurried away to refill his rum for the fifth time. Killian snorted in his direction. The kid had to be a teenager, shaking like a leaf and looking like he would faint. Sometimes it was hard to remember that there were still menial jobs and people struggling to pay rent in Storybrooke. It was always magic this and magic that ; nothing was ever normal. And yet, he could so easily imagine himself stopping in a place like The Rabbit Hole after an exciting day of pirating. Of course, nothing was exciting around the town unless they were all about to die.
“Tough day?” Someone slid onto the barstool next to him.
Killian turned to Regina with a sneer, blatantly ignoring her after sizing her up. She merely huffed with mock disapproval and turned towards the returning bartender. The boy nearly collapsed into himself when her glare landed directly on him. After setting down Killian’s drink, he practically ran to get another.
Deciding it was unnecessary to be petty when he really did want company, Killian broke the silence: “You come here often, I take it.”
Regina looked over at him and shrugged loosely, making even that look elegant and queen-like; he hated it. “It’s the only bar in town.”
“Aye, aye, love.” Killian rolled his eyes in annoyance.
It was true. There was only one bar in all of Storybrooke, at least until Aesop’s Tables opened, and the Crocodile owned it. The Crocodile owned everything, and although money paled in comparison to magic, everyone had agreed to follow the rules of the Land Without Magic, giving him more power. Bloody Crocodile.
“So, why aren’t you following the Savior around like a love sick puppy?” Regina smirked, angling her body towards him but watching the bartender like a hawk.
Killian scowled. “None of your bloody business.”
“You might as well tell me, dear, because no one else cares enough to ask,” Regina laughed, and the mellifluous sound grated on his nerves.
With another scathing look, the pirate acquiesced. “Swan refused me. Loudly and publicly.”
“Again,” Regina added.
“Again,” he agreed.
After taking a moment to consider, the queen seemed to make a decision. “How unfortunate for you.” She signaled the bartender, who brought her the drink he had set aside for her. “Peter, his drinks are on me.”
The boy nodded and then quickly melted back into the shadows to take someone else’s order.
“And what has you in such a good mood tonight, love?” Killian downed his rum in one deft movement, intent on taking advantage of not having to pay.
“I’m single!” Regina smiled gleefully, raising her glass of something-or-other in the air.
Killian scoured her face with his eyes. She had well and truly been in love with the archer, there was no reason for her to be happy. She was a queen, though, and royalty was all about facades. He zeroed in on what he was looking for when she saw his flat look. Her mask broke just slightly, knowing he didn’t believe her. She had the same look he wore when Emma kept him from following her down the beanstalk: betrayal, pain, and, worst of all, realization. The Crocodile was right; villains don’t get happy endings. And what were the Evil Queen and Captain Hook if not ruthless antiheroes? They both tried to love the good guys, but a Romeo and Juliet act only worked for Shakespeare.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Killian bowed his head slightly.
Regina’s smile dimmed just a bit more. “So was I.”
They sat in silence for another moment. Peter brought the pirate another glass, and Regina slowly sipped her apple cider and bourbon - which Killian had figured out while watching the bartender make a second one. He was no stranger to heartbreak, but he wasn’t sure how to deal with it in other people. When Milah died, he had filled his life with pillaging, alcohol, revenge, and meaningless sex. Somehow, he didn’t think that was an option for her. She had Henry, after all.
Instead of offering useless advice, Killian raised his glass. “To our Unhappily Ever Afters, then.”
Regina pursed her lips, raising her glass to clink against his. “To the villains who never win.”
They drank in silence with nearly tangible darkness hanging low around them. The bartender stayed away but kept a vigilant watch, refilling their glasses whenever they finished. Killian twirled his glass around in circles, watching the condensation rings form on the bar and thinking over the queen’s words. ‘To the villains who never win.’ Did she mean the two of them, or villains in general? Surely, heroes couldn’t always win. Those were merely the rules of fairy tales; real life was far more bloody and twisted, and most importantly, unfair. It wasn’t that the villains never won, it was that they never got happy endings .
“You got your son back, love,” Killian observed.
“What?” Regina was pulled out of her thoughts abruptly and looked over in surprise.
“You said villains never win . You got your son back. If that isn’t a victory, I don’t know what is.” He flashed his teeth at her in a pale imitation of a smile.
“The heroes still don’t trust me, though.” Regina took another sip. “And I have to share him.”
“Perhaps the reason you’re so down is because you’re looking at it all wrong,” the pirate suggested.
Regina looked affronted. “I beg your pardon?”
“Mmm, pardon received,” Killian hummed. “Stop throwing yourself a bloody pity party, and look at it. To have a happy ending, love, you actually have to be happy .”
“You think I’m going to take emotional advice from a pirate?” the queen snorted.
“No one else cares enough to give you advice,” he imitated her voice from earlier.
“Why should I be happy? My True Love is gone, I have to share my son-”
“You know you’ve moved on from your first love, you have a good relationship with your boy, you have a family that’s really working to give you a chance.” Killian shrugged and pasted on a real smile. “If you’re not experiencing your Happily Ever After yet, you’re bloody well on your way.”
Regina sat in thought for a moment, looking the pirate up and down. He simply sat and sipped his rum, relishing the feeling of his head getting lighter. His own happy ending had been killing Rumplestiltskin for so long, he wasn’t sure it could be anything else. Even after preparing to move on from Milah, she still held his heart in her hand. He may have been chasing Emma, but he didn’t love her, not yet.
“You know,” Regina slid to the end of her barstool, “maybe the reason we haven’t been able to find our happy endings,” her hand came up to run along the zipper of his leather jacket, “is because we’ve been looking in the wrong place.”
“Moving on a little fast there, love, don’t you think?” Killian laughed, but didn’t move away.
“Please, don’t flatter yourself.” Regina smiled. “I didn’t come to a seedy bar owned by Rumplestiltskin looking for my next True Love. Tonight can have a happy ending, though.”
Killian hummed around his smirk. “And what brought on this-” he looked her up and down before licking his lips, “change in attitude, pray tell?”
“I just thought that I want to be ‘experiencing’ my Happily Ever After. I don’t have anywhere else to be.” Regina stood up to move closer to him.
“Don’t you think this might ruin my chances with Emma?” Killian reached for his glass.
Regina laughed. “What chances?” Then she whispered, “And if it really means that much to you… I keep secrets much better than Snow White.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
"Don't forget, love, drinks are on you."
Chapter 8: Soggy French Fries (Hook/Ariel & Ruby)
Notes:
All right, I've had several people ask for this, and I think it's going to turn into something longer yet. ;} Thank you for all the support and comments. They've all been very inspiring and have pushed me to write this one. Thank you!
This is a continuation of Prompt #1: Caffeinated.
Chapter Text
Soggy French Fries
Killian walked into the diner, striding with a confident purpose toward a booth not far from the door. It may have been in the middle of the diner, but she wouldn’t miss it. He could feel curious eyes on his back, but he only straightened and walked slower. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to look their fill.
He had eventually decided to buy new clothes. Swan had told him on multiple occasions that he looked like he was from Pirates of the Caribbean, though he wasn’t exactly sure where this “Caribbean” was. Certainly nowhere he had ventured. So, that night he wore a short-collared black leather jacket which matched his boots and belt, tight black jeans, and a clean, white dress shirt. Killian hadn’t liked the restricting feeling of the bow tie, so he had opted to unbutton the top three buttons, instead. The woman had to have some appetite, didn’t she?
He saw her before she came into the diner. It wasn’t hard to spot her, considering how bright her hair was. Blonde would be his first choice, but the color suited her personality.
“I’m sorry. Am I late?” She sat down before he could pull out her chair, so he slumped back in his seat.
“No, love.” He ran his tongue slowly over his teeth. “You’re right on time.”
She smiled happily at him before picking up a menu. “Oh, good, I was worried.”
Killian huffed, but picked up his own menu. He scanned the items, jumping over all the sea food. It wouldn’t do to scare off his date just because he had a craving for fish and chips. Instead, he decided on steak with a side of mashed potatoes and French fries. Those were all made of nice, safe land things.
“How has your exploration been going?” Killian asked conversationally, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs a little. He looked inviting.
Ariel looked up gleefully. “Wow, it’s been wonderful! They have so many strange new things in this world! Although, those eyeless people who just stand in the windows and stare at you are kind of creepy.” Her smile disappeared briefly. “I don’t really like them.” Then, it popped back up like it had never been away.
“The eyeless people?” Killian asked curiously, momentarily forgetting his voice was supposed to be deep and rough.
“Yeah. I tried to talk to one, but she wouldn’t even move! It was quite rude.” Ariel shook her head.
Killian stared at her dumbly for a moment before realizing what she was talking about. “The mannequins, love?”
“The what? I said the ‘eyeless people,’” Ariel clarified, grinning like she was explaining something to a child.
“Yes, I know ,” Killian scoffed to himself. “They’re called mannequins .”
“Oh. Are they a different species? Do they die if they talk or move?” She appeared suddenly troubled. “Oh, no! I didn’t hurt the one I was trying to talk to, did I? I only wanted to know why she was staring so rudely.”
Killian couldn’t help but let out a brief laugh before regaining his composure. He leaned across the table slightly, running a finger over his bottom lip. “No, no. You see, love, they’re not alive. They don’t… feel , like me and you can.”
The mermaid pointed her eyes to the ceiling as though she was thinking. “So if someone were to poke them, they wouldn’t know? But that must be frustrating. I wouldn’t want to be poked.”
“Are you sure?” Killian asked salaciously, taking his finger from his lip and running it over his jaw line.
“Well, yeah. Why would anyone want to get poked all day and not know about it?” Ariel studied him with a baffled expression.
“Hey, guys,” Ruby greeted cheerfully.
“Hi, Ruby!” Ariel beamed.
“What can I getcha?” The waitress readied her pad and pen.
“A better view.” Killian licked his lips, looking her up and down. If only she would listen and step back, he could see those long, long legs.
“Don’t you like the diner? I think it’s quaint.” Ariel giggled, clearly - thankfully - misunderstanding him.
Ruby sent the pirate a flat look before turning to her friend. “Ariel, sweetie, you have something in your hair. You might want to go look in the bathroom.”
“Do I really? Silly me. I thought I brushed it right this time.” She wore a disappointed frown as she bounced off to the ladies’ room.
As soon as the door closed behind her, the tip of Ruby’s pen went into Killian’s shirt, smearing red ink on it as she applied slight pressure.
“Hey! I just bought this bloody thing; piss off!” Killian growled.
“No you piss off, buddy.” He opened his mouth to protest, but the waitress kept talking. “She is sweet and kind and innocent, and you are rude and vulgar and not . If I see a finger on her that she doesn’t approve of, or a frown on her face tomorrow…”
Killian barked a fake laugh. “You’ll what, love? Give me a talking to?”
“I ate my first boyfriend. Infer what you may.” Ruby narrowed her eyes threateningly.
She brought her pen away from his chest, positioning it above her paper and repeating her earliest question. While she was jotting his order down, the bathroom door popped open and Ariel came out, her face twisted in confusion. She plopped back down in her seat and glanced at her friend questioningly.
“I didn’t see anything,” she relayed.
Ruby smiled kindly, sharp teeth softened by painted lips. “You got it. What did you want to eat?”
“Hmm. May I please have the calamari and pasta?”
Killian nearly choked on his drink, but wisely kept his mouth shut when Ruby shot him a warning look. His jacket was just barely covering the red mark. Perhaps, if he was lucky, the mermaid would see it and think he was dying. That would be a wonderful moment for mouth-to-mouth. Doubtful, but still a possibility. If she thought he was dying from a paper cut. On his chest.
“Of course, honey. I’m sorry, did anyone get your drinks?” Ruby finished writing Ariel’s order and looked at them expectantly.
“Ah, no, love,” Killian stated, because he wasn’t scared of a little girl who had a red obsession.
The waitress huffed in slight irritation. “Thirty years of working here. You’d think she would get it right.” Ruby turned to walk away, mumbling under her breath, “Then again, she did lose her own shoe.”
Killian shook his head slightly, and then turned back to his date. “So… I’ve never seen someone put calamari on pasta before.”
Ariel smiled widely. “I’ve been getting it since Ruby and I tried it a couple weeks ago.”
“Ah, one of your experiments?” Killian leaned forward only slightly, finally deciding that his seductive air wasn’t going to work.
“Oh, yes! We’ve been doing lots of those. With Belle, too.” The mermaid picked up her fork, absently running her fingers over the tines.
“That’s nice, love.” Killian smiled back, and he almost felt like it was genuine. Almost.
Their food came quickly, Ruby delivering his with a rough clunk . She glared at him before turning and smiling sweetly at her friend. Once she walked away, Ariel looked over curiously to survey his food.
“Oo, French fries!” Ariel’s face lit up in a yet brighter smile. “I love those. One of my best discoveries! Not as good as caffeine, but still great.”
The corner of Killian’s mouth twitched upwards. “I’m growing rather fond of them, too.”
“I tried taking them with me as a snack when I went swimming once,” her forehead creased slightly, “but…”
“Mm, that sounds…” The pirate scrunched his nose.
“I think soggy is the word you’re looking for,” Ariel supplied.
“I was actually thinking more along the lines of ew ,” he said.
A laugh bubbled out of her, and he couldn’t help but smile until he was laughing along. They got strange looks that she didn’t notice, but the nosy people of this town and their opinions could go take a swim. He was… enjoying himself. Mildly.
By the time their night was over, his cheek bones were sore and his plate was clean. It was almost ten, and he had thought they would be at his ship by now. In his bed. But they weren’t, and oddly enough, that was all right. He had made her laugh enough that her strawberry lemonade came out of her nose, and for that night, he would count it as a win.
“Bye, Hook.” Ariel smiled.
Killian stood up with her. “Would you like me to walk you home, love?”
“Oh, thank you, that’s so sweet. But Ruby’s already offered me a ride. Maybe… another time?” she suggested tentatively.
“A second date, perhaps?” He smirked coyly.
“Perhaps,” Ariel agreed with a grin.
She turned and walked towards the door, and he moved to sit down. Her hand paused on the handle, though, and she came walking back swiftly. He stood to full height again, wondering what she wanted to tell him. Before he could ask, her warm lips were on his cheek, light as a feather, and then she was out the door. He stood and stared for a moment, then tripped back into his seat. No, not tripped. He was Captain Hook, he didn’t trip over cheek kisses. He took queens to bed; he slayed sea creatures who dared threaten his ship; he acted on lust and lust alone. He wouldn’t steer into the rocks because a mermaid called.
Because he was Captain Hook, and that would be absurd.
Chapter 9: Chance (Rumplestiltskin/Belle)
Notes:
Sorry I haven't posted in so long. School has been keeping me very busy lately. As always, comments are appreciated. Thank you to all the people who have commented already and been blessedly patient with me. Enjoy!
Warnings for suicide and major character death.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chance
He was sure he would never have his chance.
He didn’t need a chance, anyway. He had nothing to say. Oh, but that was a lie. Rumplestiltskin did many things, but he never lied. Once upon a time, though, he had said he would never give in to dark magic. Rules were made to be broken, he supposed.
She pranced around his castle with a ready smile and a polite, “How are you today?” It made him seethe with rage and growl with contempt… and it made a dull throb go off in his chest cavity. The heart he forgot he had. The heart that surely couldn’t still work. But he didn’t need a chance. No, he had nothing to say.
She was bold and brilliant and beautiful, and just out of reach. He wanted her so badly - to call her his and hold her and kiss her and tell her- no. No, he had nothing to say. When she hugged him and reassured him that he was good and he gave her a library, it meant nothing. Because he didn’t need a chance.
She came back. That was never in the plan. But then again, he never lied. Who needed rules when he had her? There was no point to them. She was in front of him, her lips were on his. She was his , after so long. He could be hers. His chance, that one he didn’t need, was finally upon him.
But he didn’t have anything to say.
His fiery, beautiful, independent light was out there somewhere. He had released her; she wasn’t coming back this time. And he didn’t dare go to her. But he needed to know, so he looked where he would never look. And she was falling. He couldn’t breathe. In an instant, he was there, but she was not. No, she was gone. That undying brightness in her eyes was dark, glazed. She had fallen from the tower. Not fallen - jumped. His beautiful Belle. He finally had something to say. He wanted to whisper it - wanted to pray it. He wanted the universe to know so he could kiss her and make it all better. It begged to slip from his tongue, but what good would it do? It would simply be another sad ending to a pointless endeavor. There was no longer a need to tell her how he felt. He would never say it. That wasn’t a rule. This time, it was a fact; not some flimsy law that could be trodden upon. No, it was real.
He had missed his chance.
Notes:
I know it's kinda short, but I'm trying to get back in my happy place - as evidenced by this *extremely* happy story. :} If anyone has any prompts or any people they'd like to see pop up, feel free to tell me and I'll write something for it.
Chapter 10: Table (Regina)
Notes:
I'm sorry, I know it's another short one. I'm really fishing for my motivation. I hope you enjoy it all the same. Thank you for all the kudos I've been receiving!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Table
Regina sat down, placing the lasagna in the middle of the table. She had been practicing, expanding her horizons beyond apple-based food. Maybe Henry would enjoy it; she would even entertain Miss Swan if she got to see her son again. The queen was not a fool, though, despite how Rumplestiltskin mocked her. She knew there was very little chance the “heroes” would give her time with her world’s center. Outside Henry, she had no reason to live. Snow White’s heart had been darkened; her revenge - perhaps not to the desired extent - had been taken. There was still a burning fire in her, telling her she was weak for not chasing what she wanted almost more than anything. Henry was more important.
Every time Regina had tried to avenge her love, Henry had distanced himself from her. It felt as though she had to choose between him and Daniel, and she didn’t want to. In a perfect world, Henry would have been Daniel’s son, too. The world wasn’t perfect, though; not the one that was, not the one that had been. In the end - after being hurt, manipulated, broken, and changed - she had lost Henry and Daniel, and Snow was still alive.
One tear fell, making a small dark spot in the table cloth. Regina ran a finger over it, feeling the dampness. She listened to her mother, she listened to Rumplestiltskin, and she listened to herself; and it only lost her everything. Her heart was broken, her mother was dead, and most importantly… her table was empty.
Notes:
If you have any story ideas, people, couples, or anything of the sort, feel free to tell me. I'd love to put some more things in here. Thank you!
Chapter 11: Fair (Emma & Rumplestiltskin)
Notes:
I'm really sorry. I know I haven't been very prolific lately, and my last couple posts weren't very inspired or long, but I think my muse finally decided to come out and play. Thank you for your prolonged patience. Enjoy! :}
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Fair
Emma watched Gold stride into the ice cream shop with practiced grace. Even for a man with a cane, he was quick and precise, never missing a step. He walked up to the counter, tapping his cane on the ground with the last step. The proprietor looked up at the noise, apprehension spreading throughout his frame. He scrambled to unearth a stack of bills from his pant pocket, crumpled and messily tied. Gold grabbed the money swiftly, resting his cane against the counter so he could count with both hands. Emma quietly noticed how he avoided actually touching the proprietor’s fingers and counted the bills three times through. When he was satisfied with his count, he pulled out a twenty and handed it back, his fingers pinching the very end of the bill so there was no chance of physical contact when the other man accepted it hesitantly.
“I d-don’t understand,” the proprietor stuttered, looking more afraid than confused.
Gold’s countenance remained impassive in the face of the man’s near terror. “You gave me too much, dearie, and I would like a cone.”
For a moment, the ice cream man stood with his mouth gaping, the twenty drooping in his hand. Then, comprehension seemed to dawn and the proprietor scrambled to put the money in the cash register and grab a cone at the same time - wanting to please Gold, and make sure he didn’t change his mind simultaneously. Gold, far from looking offended at the indecision, quirked his lip in a predatory smirk.
“Medium cone - mint, if you will.” He retained his shark smile, watching the man hurry to comply.
The proprietor shoved the twenty in his pocket, picking up the ice cream scoop and spooning a ball of mint onto the smooth surface of the counter. He reached for a large cone, his hand nearly there when Gold’s voice cut across his action.
“I asked for a medium cone, as I recall,” he reminded.
The proprietor lifted a shoulder in an effort to be casual, but his eyebrows were beaded in sweat. “It’s on the house.”
“If your skills as a salesman are as feeble as your mathematics, it’s a wonder you’ve collected all the money necessary for your rent payment,” Gold stated calmly, a sliver of annoyance betraying his unhappiness about the prospect of free food. “I would like what I’ve paid for - nothing more, nothing less.”
Emma watched for a moment as the man behind the counter struggled for words. Eventually deciding to forgo them, he merely reached for the medium cone and scooped the mint - which had started to melt - into it. The proprietor handed the cone to Gold, hand shaking. Gold took it, not making contact, and nodded curtly with a “good day.”
As Emma watched him walk out the door, she marveled at how a man could look so intimidating while licking an ice cream cone and wearing a pink shirt.
*$_$*
The bell above the door rang, and Emma looked over to see Gold step through, his entirely black outfit seeming to suck the light from the room. One look at Ruby, and the waitress was readying a drink Emma couldn’t identify. It looked like tea.
Every seat at the bar was empty, but Gold grabbed a newspaper and went to take the back corner booth. He slid onto the vinyl facing the door, and opened his newspaper with his cane resting against the wall. Within a couple minutes, Ruby had deposited his drink on the table and then quickly retreated. Gold paid her no mind, his eyes not leaving the paper.
Soon enough, families began pouring through the door, desiring to have breakfast with each other before going off to work or school. After the booths and tables were filled, the leftover customers took their seats at the bar. Gold remained where he sat, looking up at a family who walked in the door as though daring them to ask for his booth. The father steered his wife and son out before the door had even closed. There was one seat left at the bar.
Several minutes passed before another family entered, this time a father with a young daughter. Emma smiled as she watched the girl ask her father for a hot chocolate, silently mourning the absence of that in her own memories. The one seat at the bar was still open, but that was all. Emma was seconds away from getting up to give them her place at the bar, next to the empty seat, when she saw the girl’s eyes cast toward the corner booth. She remained in her seat, deciding to wait a moment.
While the father was scouring the diner for a place to sit, his eyes avoiding Gold completely, he didn’t notice his little girl wander off. The child looked about five or six to Emma, and she almost felt cruel for her little experiment, but she wanted to know.
“Excuse me?” the little girl asked politely, standing next to the corner booth.
For one second, Emma thought Gold would ignore her, but then he folded his newspaper and looked over at her with a blank expression. “Yes, Miss…?”
“My name is Ellie Widdler,” she filled in with proudly practiced words.
“Ah, what may I do for you, Miss Widdler?” Gold bowed his head momentarily in acknowledgment.
“You’re Mr. Gold,” the girl stated firmly. “I saw you talking to Daddy the other day.”
“And yet you’re still brave enough to converse with me?” Gold smiled ever so slightly, as though her childish bravado amused him.
“M-hm.” She nodded her head, even though his large words seemed to confuse her. “I wanna make a deal. My friend Kitty said you do that a lot.”
Gold’s fingers came to rest on the table top, drumming once. “And what might you wish for, Miss Widdler?”
“Your booth is big, and there’s an open seat at the stool table.” The girl motioned toward the bar. “You don’t need a big booth. You can sit at the small one over there, and Daddy and I can sit here, and then we’ll both have room.”
Gold thought for a moment, and Emma waited for the results of her experiment. “That sounds logical.”
“Lo-ji-kal,” the girl sounded out. “What’s that?”
Gold smiled in an almost fond way, and Emma’s theory about him having had a child was reinforced. “It means that that makes sense.”
The girl nodded. “So we have a deal?” She stuck out her hand.
“We have a deal,” he confirmed.
He had never made physical contact with anyone that Emma had seen - not Granny, when she had first arrived and he had been collecting rent; not her, when he had greeted her and welcomed her to Storybrooke; not Regina, with all the threats exchanged between them; and not the ice cream man he had taken rent from the other day. Yet after everything Emma had witnessed, he shook the likely sticky hand of the child who had just asked him to take a hike.
And for the first time since Emma had arrived in town, she saw Gold read his newspaper while seated at the bar.
Notes:
Any suggestions, prompts, or comments you have, I would love to see. Thank you for reading! :}
Chapter 12: Water (Hook/Ariel)
Notes:
Hookriel strikes again with a second date, thanks to inlovewithhisblueeyes and their prompt:
Storybrooke does have a lake so maybe a little kiss the girl next time. Hook gets the idea after watching the movies Emma keeps mentioning
Thank you for the idea; it was so much fun to write. I hope I wrote it to your satisfaction. :} Enjoy!
This is a continuation of prompts #1 and #8.
Chapter Text
Water
Killian’s devilish smile never faltered as he led Ariel over the path through the woods. He owed that night’s surprise to the lovely - yet annoying - Swan and her fondness of movie references. She had asked him if he planned to “kiss the girl” any time soon, and at first as she snickered, he thought she was mocking him for receiving only a kiss on the cheek for all his troubles. Surely that had spread around Storybrooke; she must know. As the week had worn on, though, he had begun to wonder what her emphasis on those three words had meant. So, he had ventured to the library to find the Crocodile’s little play thing. She had been wary at first - rightfully so - when he stepped into her domain. But, being the trusting innocent she was, Belle had led him to a computer and helped him find the answer to his question. She had briefly talked about a movie: The Little Mermaid . The part that had interested him, though, was the boat ride and the leaning in and the fact that he could succeed where the prince had failed. So, they walked - unbeknownst by Ariel - toward Storybrooke’s beautifully glistening lake. Whatever Swan’s snickers had been for, they would soon be replaced by want when she saw what he could do with a woman.
“Oh, it’s wonderful, Hook!” Ariel gasped happily, looking out over the floating candles and well-maintained boat. There would be no capsizing for them; he would get that kiss.
“I’m glad you approve, love.” Killian held out a hand, helping her into the boat.
It was perhaps more romantic than he would normally enjoy, but she seemed like that kind of fairytale-ending girl. One that chased charming men in silks as long as they had interesting stories to tell, and found herself married after the first kiss. That certainly wasn’t him, but Ariel hadn’t noticed that thus far, and he wasn’t inclined to tell her.
The boat wobbled slightly as she boarded, and she gave an excited little giggle. He smiled with a crooked eyebrow, reminding himself that she was oblivious to his sensual charms; yet, he couldn’t just stop . Sensual was his entire personality. He unwound the anchoring rope and hopped in, causing the boat to sway from side to side.
“You don’t get seasick, do you, love?” Killian teased, relaxing himself on the wooden bench across from her.
“Not unless I catch a cold.” She smiled joyfully, running her fingers over the water, watching it ripple.
He studied her eagerly, deciding on which topic would be best suited to drawing her in that evening. The dimming sunlight cascaded across the water, giving him an idea. “Do you ever miss your life under the sea?”
Ariel thought for a moment. “Yes, all the time. But I’m happy where I am. There are so many interesting things up here!”
“Like caffeine?” Killian inquired playfully, resisting what he knew was a pointless urge to run his fingers over his face.
Ariel laughed and echoed him, “Like caffeine. And dating.”
He smiled back at her, and felt a brief - very brief - stab of guilt. She was a gullible girl, but she deserved someone whose heart skipped a beat at that. His didn’t. No, his mind swirled with all the many things he could do to her body, and not a single one was about holding it in his arms and watching the sunrise from the porch of a quaint house. She was a fool, and he preyed on the foolish. It was just the way things went.
“What was your favorite thing about the ocean?” Killian asked, leaning in.
Just as he had hoped, she subconsciously leaned in as well, her mind focused on a memory. “I always loved the way it was so dark at the bottom, because as I swam up, the sunset would bury itself in the water, painting it in all the prettiest colors of the sky. It was the moment above and below met, and I got to see it whenever I wanted. It was one of the most natural forms of beauty ever, and as fascinating as this world is, it doesn’t have that.”
Killian took a moment to let her words move through the air, the dreamy look in her eyes matching her relaxed form. She was far away, remembering all the best things about the water, and then was the perfect moment to take advantage. The boat rocked rhythmically, and something in him stopped him short. For a second, her dream became his dream. It became the dream of the little boy whose father taught him that the only way to get what you wanted was to chase it ruthlessly, and left. It became the dream of a little boy whose brother told him everything would be okay, and lied. It became the dream of a man who maybe, just this once, could wait a little longer, and did.
“I love that memory,” Ariel sighed. “Thank you. With all my exploration, I forgot about the amazing things I’ve already seen.”
“Well then I hope you don’t forget again,” Killian said softly.
“I won’t. But I have one more thing I want to try tonight.” Ariel gave him a shy smile.
He gave her an encouraging grin, pushing her to reveal what her curiosity was after. Killian thought of several things she might be interested in trying, but when she leaned forward, he knew he hadn’t guessed correctly. She was tentative, hesitant, but he didn’t meet her halfway. It was her choice tonight. Her eyes flicked to his lips, her breath caught in her throat as she steeled her nerves. She leaned just a little more, and her lips met his gently. Ariel made a happy noise in the back of her throat, her eyes fluttering closed.
And for once in his life, Captain Hook didn’t push for more. He was happy just how he was - giving a chaste kiss to a red-head on a romantic lake.
Chapter 13: Power Outage (Emma)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Power Outage
In a word - madness .
One goes about their day to day life wanting more, always more. Then when they find themselves needing more, their wants are at once strengthened and completely abandoned. Storybrooke wanted peace, but power does not warrant peace; power warrants challenge as it refuses to bow its head. And some of the town’s people needed power. When power was taken away, peace was forgotten.
Emma crouched behind a tree, pondering those happenings with a hasty and uncharacteristic profoundness. The town needed its power back, as much as she was loath to admit it. When it had fled the streets - magic, electricity, power - the Savior had been relieved. Storybrooke would go back to the way it had been, she had thought, full of problems she could handle like drunk driving and bar fights. There would be no more dragons and curses and spells, she had thought. She had been wrong.
Emma’s hands shook as she reloaded her gun, pointedly ignoring the thick red splatters blending in against her jacket. Storybrooke had never been without its power. Even when the Dark One was binding his deals in ink and not blood, and the Evil Queen was putting people on the street instead of in the ground, Storybrooke was not without its power. There had always been magic - a curse, to keep time still. A curse, to set the scene. A curse: power used to bar power.
The Savior’s head turned as shots were fired in the distance. Even with her gun loaded, she didn’t move a muscle. They could have her titles: sheriff, Savior, hero. She was done with the power plays. She was done with the dragons and curses and spells. She was done with the madness. Emma was tired of living in a world where power was a need.
Without power, desperation was tangible. Nothing could stop all the wants that people could never have had before. People stumbled out of burning shops that had been set ablaze in hatred - a revenge that they would never be punished for. Every building was raided for valuable trinkets that the raiders could never have afforded. People fired their guns in defense until blood painted a wall on every street.
Emma finally moved. Her gun felt heavy in her hand until the moment she fired it - then it felt oh-so light. The ludicrous thought that her bullets had been terribly heavy crossed her mind, pushed along by a string of other ludicrous thoughts in her haze. The dull eyes of the bleeding faces didn’t wake her from her trance. The fearful eyes of her son did, though.
“Why is this happening, Mom?”
Of course, Henry wasn’t scared of her, just the situation. In his big brown eyes, she was a hero of noble descent and incorruptible morals. She wanted so badly for him to always see her that way.
She needed him to be safe.
They had been trying to take him. There would be so many more. After all, he was the son of the Evil Queen. He was as valuable as the raiders’ trinkets.
“We’re going to take a little trip, kid.” Emma smiled, even as tears traced lonely paths down her face. “Just you and me.”
“What’s happening?” Henry sobbed. He was brave, but this was his home, and he just had such a big heart.
“The Bug’s around the corner.” Emma grabbed his hand and started walking, but he yanked it away.
“What about Mom? And David and Snow?”
Emma knelt in front of him, knowing they didn’t have the time for this conversation. “We have to go.”
“They’re coming too, though, right?”
Emma wanted to say “yes, of course.”
So for just that one thing, she did.
Notes:
I hope you enjoyed! As always, feel free to give me prompts or ideas in the comments, and I'll be happy to write them for you!
Chapter 14: Withdrawal (Hook/Ariel)
Notes:
Here is the continuation of prompts #1, #8, and #12, prompted by Bloody_Willamina who wanted to see the withdrawal. Your wish is my command! Also, you should check out their work because they are almost single-handedly sailing a ship, and doing a great job of captaining!
Enjoy!
Chapter Text
Withdrawal
“Worst discovery ever!” Ariel groaned, clutching her head.
Killian couldn’t suppress a laugh. The dirty look she shot him reminded the captain of her not often seen fierce side, likely teased out of hiding by the splitting headache she surely had. Try as he might - though not very hard - his grin didn’t flee his face, held where it was by his amusement at her change in opinion. He was certainly flattered, however, that she had thought to call him of all people.
“Well, why’d you stop then?” he asked, his voice noticeably devoid of sympathy.
She pouted, still squeezing her eyes shut. “I forgot that you have to have a job to buy more. I ran out.”
Another laugh burst forth, this one far more derisive. “Where’ve you been living if you haven’t got money, love?”
“Belle lets me stay with her.” Ariel shrugged, wincing at some other pain that he assumed was afflicting her. “She’s usually out, so there’s lots of room.”
“Out with the bloody Crocodile, I know,” Killian muttered, pondering that horribly happy smirk that had come about as of late. Turning his attention away from his long-standing bloodlust, he asked, "Did none of your womanly gaggle warn you against these negative effects?"
At that, Ariel looked comically remorseful - the kind of regret born of a try-again experience rather than a done deal. "They did."
Killian smirked and waved a bejeweled hand. "And you didn't listen."
Ariel's contrite expression morphed into one that clearly read duh . The captain knew he was entertaining himself for a reason to stay, though he was sure she believed him nice for coming.
"I just wanted to try it," she explained with another groan. "I didn't think they could mean it when they said that it felt like the boiling water of a sea volcano coursing through your body if you stopped drinking it." Killian raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and she clarified, "My words," before continuing: "I didn't know something could really feel like this!"
"From what I've seen so far, love, you lack quite a bit of knowledge when it comes to physical feelings." He flashed his teeth at her with a side eye. "And as always, I'm happy to be of assistance."
Ariel looked at him incredulously. "Why would I want to feel like the boiling water of a sea volcano is coursing through my body?" She gave him a wide-eyed look. "Do you not know what a sea volcano is?"
Killian pursed his lips in offense. "I'm fairly sure I can put the two words together and figure it out."
Ariel just groaned again, flopping back on the washing machine in the laundry room they occupied. Her withdrawal had slowly been creeping up on her, but had finally struck during one of her shifts.
Thinking about her shift, Killian gave her an imploring look. "Now that you've got some money in your pocket - or tail fin, wherever you mermaids keep it - are you going to buy more?”
She scoffed. “Not for all the polyester candy in the world!”
“The cotton candy, love?” Killian questioned, growing used to her slightly-off terms the more time he spent with her - which, admittedly, had been increasing in the last couple weeks.
“Oh, yeah. That.” Ariel shook her head, trying to cringe away from her own temples. “This one is not one of my favorite experiences.”
“I can see that,” he noted. “You know, when it comes to cures, I’d suggest rum. It always helps me. Why not give it a try, love?”
Ariel sat up quickly, wincing again. “I don’t know what that is, but if it’ll help…”
“Aye.” Killian pulled a flask out of his coat, pitying the loss of a good drink, but certain it would help. “The only medicine I ever need.”
She grabbed it happily. “Here goes another experiment!”
Chapter 15: Mirror (Regina & Belle)
Notes:
It's pretty short, but I'm trying to get back into my writing headspace. I wrote a whole bunch of stuff for Yin & Yang, decided to wait until I was finished with it all before posting it, and then lost my thang for two and a half months. Consider this my re-entry into my muse's living room. *jazz hands* Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,” Regina whispered, repeating a piece of the fairytale spread about her by trembling peasants.
No matter how many people in no matter how many lands came to fear her, they would always shake harder at Rumplestiltskin’s cackle; and that knowledge had become somewhat of a comfortable competition. Certainly it annoyed her to know she had not surpassed her master, but there was a particular relief in the thought that someone always had the answer she was looking for, even when he would not give it. She yearned for an answer now, but this one she would have to figure out on her own.
Regina looked at the girl through her mirror, searching for her craved answer. A beauty indeed, but quite useless in her opinion. She had never thought that the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms would trip over a pretty face, but at least it gave her a playing card. An upper hand was always something she desired, so only her question remained - why was she angry? It wasn’t jealousy that made her hate this little chit, of that she was sure. Not of her relationship with Regina’s former master, nor of her beauty and innocence. This girl had nothing the queen wanted, so what made her valuable? Perhaps that was the answer to her question. A pointless, dull maid had turned the Evil Queen’s master - her all-knowing, all-powerful, unfaltering imp - into puppy dog eyes and sweet little kisses.
The queen was in the dungeons in an instant, the girl stumbling back in surprise. “How did you do it? How did you - so pretty, so utterly pointless - turn the Dark One into mush?”
The girl stuck her chin out in defiance. “Love isn’t mush , Your Majesty; it is strength. If you had ever tried it, you would know that.”
“Love is weakness. I know that because I tried it, foolish child.” Regina wrapped her fingers around that pretty alabaster throat. “But what you did to him was more than just weakness. You took something immovable and disintegrated it. What power do you possess that I do not?”
“If you think I have magic, you’re wrong,” the girl rasped. “I would have had nothing if he had not loved me back. You say you have experienced love? Then you must understand somewhere in your darkened heart.”
As quickly as the queen had come, she left, letting the girl fall to the ground and instead appearing before a window at the highest point of the castle. She materialized a saddle bolt in her hand, holding it before her and watching an image swirl into focus. Somewhere in the darkened heart her prisoner had mentioned, she found the answer to her question. It was a disappointing answer, really, in its simplicity. The Dark One had tripped over a pretty face - tripped and fallen, just as she had. And just as Snow White had done to her, Regina had done to him - killing his love before his eyes, or so he had thought. It made her even angrier to know that her solid foundation had the same cracks she did.
A smile curled the Evil Queen’s lips. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, I possess the Dark One’s downfall.”
Notes:
If you have anything you'd like me to put in here, feel free to tell me! I currently have one prompt (someone asked for more Regina/Killian) that I am working on, but I can multitask! I hope you enjoyed it! :}
Chapter 16: Pocket Watch (Jefferson)
Notes:
This was so much fun to write! This one covers some sensitive subjects, such as the brief implications of self-harm and suicidal thoughts, so be warned.
Lustrum: a period of five years
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Pocket Watch
Week Three
Jefferson paced the floor of his manor, taking a breath for the first time in weeks. Nothing made sense, so he would try to make sense of it. If he argued from both sides of his problem, surely he could overcome his confused panic. For the last three weeks, he had hurt himself and trashed his manor innumerable times, only increasing his panic. Now, he would sort his head out.
If this world - a land with manors and stoves and no magic - was reality, then the other world - a land with castles and imps and sorcerers - was the dream. It couldn’t be, however, because no matter how many times Jefferson had broken glass over his hand, it was always healed when he woke up; and no matter how many times he tore the paintings off the walls and threw the appliances across the room, everything was always neat when the sun rose again. So then it would follow that the world without magic was the dream. In that case, he was now dreaming and yet could cause himself physical harm. He supposed it was only the illusion of physical harm if he never carried the injuries over to the other world, and he never did.
The other world was a fantastical place, and when he thought of it, too many faces to count floated through his mind. For three weeks he had been flooded with an entire lifetime of memories at every dusk and had them scattered at every dawn. There were seven things that he could somewhat clearly pull from his twisted and turned thoughts. The first thing was a hat, one not in the manor as he knew well from various searches, which opened portals. The second thing was an imp - one of his employers, he had determined - who giggled and taunted and spun straw into gold. The third thing was a pocket watch, acquired on one of his many journeys, though he couldn’t remember to where. The fourth thing was a woman who had apprenticed with his employer and slowly turned from a naive stream to a raging ocean of power and hatred. The fifth thing - the most wonderful thing of all; the only thing that kept him from truly going mad - was a girl with deep golden hair and a smile as brilliant as the sun; she was the reason he braved the waking dream of that world. The sixth thing was more of a feeling, a pain in his neck and a madness in his skull, a desperation to escape and a fear of what he’d find. The seventh and last thing was the most confusing of all as it seemed to be where his two worlds met - a rolling purple smoke so dark it was almost black, yet shining with intention and promise. Of those seven things, the only one he could confirm was real was the pocket watch, which was on his night stand every morning in this world and in his pocket every day in the other. Of those seven things, the thing he came to hate the most was the pocket watch, which ticked for every second of either waking nightmare , reminding him that he didn’t belong in either world, pushing him - daring him - to close his eyes and move to the next, just so his confusion could continue. That watch could have come from a grand adventure or a garage sale, and no matter how many times it was shattered against the wall, it always came back to haunt him.
Jefferson could hear the ticking now, reminding him once more that every second here could either be another second away from the girl with the golden hair who needed him, or another second in the reality he was trying so hard to get a grip on. In one instance, he was exactly where he should be, and in the other, he was so far from where he was needed the most.
He screamed.
Month Three
Jefferson had found telescopes in the manor which led to his discovery of a town down the hill. The people there were as strange as the manor, resetting every morning just to carry out the same day again. It was because of that uniformity that she was so easy to spot. The woman with the raven hair, Regina she was called in the other world, was the only one who moved freely. It relieved him to find another commonality between the worlds while at the same time wrecking the foothold he had found. If she was always different and always surprising him, then the magicless world couldn’t be the dream; but she existed in the other world as well, with the same smirk plastered on the same crimson lips. Which Regina was the dream based on the reality?
Further probing with the telescopes sent Jefferson into a worse tailspin than his discovery of Regina had. The girl with the golden hair existed in this world, just as perfect as she was in the other. But she by no means knew him. She, like everyone else, performed the same tasks day by day. He began checking on her, without meaning to at first, at least once a day. He eventually came to realize that she was his daughter in the other world, which only drove him into more of a panic.
The watch ticked.
Was he leaving his daughter to fend for herself while he watched an empty puppet of her prance around in his dreams, or was he stalking a girl his mind had stolen away as his own in his lonely manor?
He sobbed.
Year Three
Jefferson no longer cared which world was reality. Certainly, every time he thought he had simply come to terms with not knowing, another wave of fear came crashing down around him, reminding him that it wasn’t all right. But he could no longer bring himself to gather his thoughts and figure it out. He had tried again and again in both worlds to simply not sleep and see what would happen, but all he had to do was blink and it was all gone. His existence was sleepless between the manor he paced and the life he lived, and without rest his mind simply scattered. Some days he made hat after hat, desperate to bring the magic from one world into the other; and other days he couldn’t move, caught up in his head and lost to restless nights.
No matter which world was reality, the girl with the golden hair was his . She was his daughter, and he loved her more than anything. Jefferson had looked over as much of the town - Storybrooke - as he could see, never once skipping one check per day on Grace. He had never lost track of time, the watch constantly ticking - echoing no matter which room of the house he left it in. Reminding him that while he watched over her in this world, she was without him in the other. Every day in this world was spent eagerly awaiting the night, and every day in the other world was spent worrying that something had changed while he wasn’t watching.
Regina was all too easy to find whenever he decided to look for her, and it hadn’t taken long for him to come to hate her. Between her betrayal in the world of magic and the way she could break the bind of routine that Grace was so dully stuck in in this world, it was impossible not to hate her a little more with every tick of the watch. He wanted to kill her a thousand different ways, but she was the only path to his daughter. She was the only path to a peaceful oblivion, like the one Grace was in. He wanted that badly. Jefferson prayed to gods of both worlds that he would wake up one day as he had three years ago and have forgotten entirely one of these haunting lives.
Ticking echoed from the broken mess of a watch he had thrown against the wall this morning.
Which life did he want to forget?
Jefferson slammed his fist into the wall.
Lustrum Three
Jefferson had come to a routine of his own after fifteen agonizing years. Every morning he would wake from a world of spells and adventures, remember where he didn’t know he was, forget what he was sure he had come to understand, and throw that horrible watch against the wall. Every day he would try to do one thing he hadn’t done before, try to make a portal with a hat, watch Grace through his telescope, and lose another piece of who he was certain he had once been. Every night he would cry and scream, trash his manor, yell curses until he knew Regina could hear him, and slip into another world. Every week he would try to starve himself or sharpen one of the knives in his kitchen until he remembered that he had a little girl who needed to know that he hadn’t left her on purpose.
Five years ago, something had interrupted his routine, and five years later, it continued to be one more tiny pinprick of hope. Regina had brought a baby into the town and called him her own. He was the only other person who could break the binds of uniformity that this world was set in - by a curse, said the other world - and that gave Jefferson the hope that someone else would come along and change things. It also had him thinking that there was a moving world outside of Storybrooke where the baby must have come from.
The broken watch ticked away another few seconds of his life.
If his theory was correct, the world around Storybrooke would die as the town continued to never change - an eternity placed in the middle of ever-moving time.
He opened the door to the manor just to walk outside, blink, and begin his routine again.
Near Decade Three
“...For the last twenty-eight years I’ve been stuck in this house, day after day, always the same…”
One morning, Jefferson had woken to the same madness and gone through the same routine. The next morning, however, he had woken to a house neatly put together as always, and a broken pocket watch on his bedroom floor. His mind had raced and stumbled and twisted until he couldn’t take it anymore, and he had opened his door to try to leave so he could start it all over again. Except, when he stepped over the threshold, he had felt the wind on his face for the first time in nearly three decades. That other world that he could never fully remember became clearer, and he realized that this curse that Regina - who was very real - had placed on his home was weakening. He had raced back inside to his telescopes to find Grace and instead found Henry, talking to a blonde woman who he had never seen before.
“Perhaps you’re the one that’s mad.”
Everything had changed. The world around Storybrooke - the one he was in - hadn’t died like he had feared it would.
“I want you to get it to work.”
The ticking had stopped.
He kidnapped the Savior.
Notes:
As always I hope you enjoyed, I would really appreciate any feedback, and I'm happy to take any prompts!
Chapter 17: Whetting Stone (Regina/Hook)
Notes:
GiselleC asked for more Regina/Hook, so here it is! It's mostly dialogue, but I don't doubt that I'll be writing more of this ship in the future, and I might actually use this piece in a story, so... yay! I hope you enjoy!
Chapter Text
Whetting Stone
“What an impressive appendage,” Regina remarked from where she watched the captain sharpen his hook.
The whetting stone was on the floor almost at the same time his sword was in his hand, his shoulders tense but his smile lazy. “You’re not the first woman to say that to me.”
The queen smirked, stepping forward until the tip of the blade was mere inches from her. “You think you can hurt a demon with a sword?”
“What do you know of demons?” he asked calmly, though in the face of her fearlessness, he sheathed his weapon.
Regina’s smile grew. “Quite a bit about the one you’re looking to kill, and I know for a fact a sword won’t do it. Not here at least.”
Killian stood a little taller, matching her step forward. “Are you proposing you’d like to help me catch my crocodile?”
She stepped past him, moving around his quarters, running her fingers over everything. “I have no interest in your little tiff with the Dark One-” he scowled, “-but I’ll be happy to open the opportunity for you if only you’ll help me with my little problem.”
“And what, pray tell, is your ‘little problem’?” Killian drawled.
“My mother. You see, this opportunity I’m willing to give you,” she turned, giving him a blood red smirk, “it’s an opportunity for me as well - one I won’t waste.”
“And what made you come to me, love? My devilishly good looks?” He gave her a mockery of a charming smile.
“Hardly.” She smiled sweetly. “I’ve heard rumors of a broken-hearted pirate on the search for revenge with a knack for - jabbing people with his hook.” The glint in her eye was positively cruel, both repelling and intriguing him. “Well, it was just such a moving story… how could I resist?”
The captain ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth contemplatively. “And you’ll take me to a place where swords can hurt demons if I do this for you? For the small price of resolving a family issue?”
Regina took another step closer to him, having finished with her exploration of his room. Her eyes were full of fiery passion akin to his own - fueled by hatred - in contrast to her ice cold smile. He wasn’t particularly fond of the smile. There was a certain dishonesty to it that he didn’t like - a lie that came with a lack of intention. Killian was no stranger to lies, but he preferred to keep his intentions in the open. If he was going to plunder a village, he made sure they knew it; if he was going to steal a man’s wife, he had no problem challenging the man to a duel for her. Lying was a tricky way of being a coward, and the captain was certainly no coward.
Regina’s fingers danced over his hook, admiring the silver. “For that small price, yes.”
“Then where can I find this mother of yours, love?” Killian smirked. “I have some jabbing to do.”
Chapter 18: Anniversary (Emma/Rumplestiltskin)
Notes:
This is an idea I'm testing out for one of my other stories, Air of Mystery. You don't have to have read it to understand. Enjoy!
WARNINGS FOR REFERENCING MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS
Chapter Text
Anniversary
In Emma’s humble opinion, roses were cheesy. Despite their expense, she found them cheap. For some couples, the soft red petals said I love you . To her, they said I didn’t know your favorite flower; this is good, right? It was an out for people who lacked creativity. Gold had learned that months ago, she was glad to know. Unfortunately, she didn’t know Graham’s favorite flower, and what else did someone put on a grave? It was another one of those unimportant questions that she had never burned to ask until she couldn’t anymore. Gold had looked at her strangely when she had asked him what his favorite color was, and then with understanding when she had asked him his favorite flavor of donut. Mourning with a person who mourned someone entirely different, she had found, was like two people taking two different tests on the same subject: not the same problem, but the same type of answer. Gold had told her that Belle was similar to Graham: sweet, kind, innocent despite difficulty, and terribly witty. Gold also said that red roses were Belle’s favorite flower.
Emma hoped that Graham liked them, too.
Gold had experienced heartbreak twice before Belle, but she had been different. When he thought he had failed to defend Milah against pirates, he had gone about his days with a head bowed in shame. When Cora had ripped out her heart to pursue her goals, he had cursed himself for his blindness in fanning the flames of her ambition. When he had heard of Belle’s death, it was not one simple loathing of cowardice or foolishness that he felt, but an all-consuming hatred for his own existence. Like Emma, all he had to do was believe; but unlike Emma, he hadn’t quite gotten there. When the Savior had first come along, his pain had been settled in his chest for three decades, only to be dragged from the bottom of his heart by a thoughtless pawn and a teacup. Without that, and without Emma finally believing and breaking the curse, Gold wasn’t sure he would have made the parallels and let Emma past his defenses. They had talked of love lost to death and love lost to carelessness, and they had found a sad sort of understanding that drew them tattered heart to tattered heart. She had asked him of his favorite donut, and he had asked her of her favorite book. At another time, she had learned that he had an affinity for pickles, and he had learned that she didn’t like roses.
But Belle did, and he hoped she liked this one.
Graham’s first anniversary of death was difficult, and Emma wanted nothing more than to be alone, which she knew Gold would have granted her had she gone home. She had never been particularly comfortable handling grief, however, so she decided to go about her day and pretend that nothing was wrong. Granny’s was busy, but she went to grab a coffee nonetheless. She thought about bringing something to Gold, but Belle’s anniversary had been mere days ago, and while he wouldn’t have told her to leave, she knew that he got to his shop an hour early and left an hour late to spend time at his spinning wheel. It was strange to her - the spinning wheel - but it was to him like hot cocoa was to her: something nostalgic from youth that acted as a calming method which could easily be explained away by claiming boredom, or in her case thirst. When he was thinking deeply, agitated, or nervous, Emma had noticed that he would rub his first two fingers against his thumb as though feeding wool into the wheel. It reminded her of how Graham would rub his hand over his stubble if he was feeling any of those things. Similarly, when she experienced any of those, she would bite her cheek, which reminded Gold of how Belle would bite her lip.
When they had exchanged this information, Emma had felt the wedge grow between them. The barrier had been there before, but when it was spoken aloud, what was left unsaid had brought the problem to their knowledge. Each of them looked for past love in each other, for consolation and comfort, for familiarity and things that couldn’t be returned. It was a problem Emma couldn’t seem to get past, and she knew Gold wasn’t even trying. He had lost love too many times to let her go, so she knew that very few problems between them would phase him. It did bother him, though - it bothered both of them. They could love each other, but they couldn’t be in love for the simple fact that they saw different people when they looked at each other.
As Emma waited for her coffee, she looked around the diner and saw Whale rubbing his fingers together, openly staring at one of the waitress’s exposed midriffs. She took off running.
Gold spun his wheel slowly, working over all the things he wished he could say to Belle. Most of those things he would never say to Emma because she wasn’t the same person, and he wasn’t one to recycle love letters. He knew that sometimes he saw them as the same person, though. When she bit her cheek, he had the overwhelming urge to flit around her like the imp he had once been and spew ridiculous quips until she forgot whatever was troubling her. On the very rare occasions that she picked up a book to read, he forced himself not to take it up when she was done and replace her dogear with a pressed rose. He hated himself every time he stopped short because he had been so very in love with Belle, and he wanted to be so very in love with Emma, but he couldn’t seem to find the fine point where the past was respected but set aside, and the future was warily considered but warmly embraced.
He stood from his spinning wheel when the bell in the shop rang violently. To his surprise, when Gold walked out he saw Emma, nearly doubled over and panting. Worried over Storybrooke’s newest conundrum, he hurried to her side, ready for a hastily made report. Instead, she held up a finger to catch her breath. When her lungs were once again full, she turned to him, threaded her fingers through his hair, and pulled him into a kiss. They kissed until Emma was once more out of breath and was forced to simply stand as close as possible to him.
“Gold, listen,” she said sternly, “we have a problem.”
He sighed. “I’m aware.”
“But don’t worry,” she amended, “‘cause I have a solution. Please hold your applause until I’m finished.”
Gold raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that will be an issue.”
She gave him a flat look and then simply said, “We can compare each other to a hundred people, or we can enjoy how a hundred common things make us two unique people that can totally be in love with the future while still loving the past.”
Gold opened his mouth to reply, and then closed it. She rested her head against his shoulder and waited. As he wrapped his arms farther around her, she felt him rubbing his fingers together and smiled. They stood there for a very long time, both just thinking and feeling.
Finally, Gold responded. “Well in that case, I think I’m totally in love with the future.”
“It’s looking pretty cool, isn’t it?” Emma smiled at him.
“Indeed it is.”
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everscribble on Chapter 1 Tue 29 Jun 2021 12:08AM UTC
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