Emma Swan went to Britain looking for family. It should have been a Hallmark movie, a Christmas miracle waiting to happen. Instead she’s stuck in a grimy London ‘flat’, with the worst next door neighbor in the world.
Well, maybe not the worst.
Ok, here it is! My contribution to the @captainswanbigbang ‘s little bang! Thank you so much to all the mods for organising it and for all your hard work. Specifically I owe a blood debt to @phiralovesloki for being an awesome beta, my heart on a platter to @katie-dub and @killiancygnus for cheerleading and, of course, a million thank yous to my incredibly talented and lovely artist @shady-swan-jones who sent me a prompt a year ago and had to wait a reaaaaally long time to see it come to fruition in a way she almost certainly didn’t expect! The fact that we were paired together makes me grin like a loon Sophie, I hope I did you proud.
As well as the beautiful banner, @shady-swan-jones has also created X this gorgeous artwork for the first half and this X beautiful spoilery piece too! I am a spoilt writer.
Thanks for the title Death Cab. And the tears.
Wordcount: 14999 (yep, that close!)
Rating: M
Other Pairings: Snowing, Outlaw Queen
Warnings: Excessive drinking, swearing, sexual situations.
Emma Swan has never really been one for romantic comedies. They aren’t made for the likes of her – a woman described as prickly by her friends and rather less flatteringly by the vanishingly few dates she’s had over the years. No, romantic comedies are really more Mary Margaret’s thing, full of hope and joy and promises that things will get better if you believe in yourself, Emma.
(She believes in herself just fine, as it happens. It’s other people she struggles with.)
It makes sense, then, that her vague memories of watching one such movie years ago are of being curled up under a blanket on Mary Margaret’s college futon, her attention carefully focused on the television and not on the way David’s hands roamed over Mary Margaret’s knee. Public displays of affection were even less appealing to her than some stupid movie’s ideas about the perfection of true love, and that’s why she remembers most of it even now. There were lobsters, for sure, and something about pornography that made Mary Margaret gasp. (She hopes that was the reason. Maybe her memory blanked that part out.)
And at the end, a beautiful airport reunion that made David sniff surreptitiously against Mary Margaret’s shoulder.
Her experience of London’s Heathrow is nothing like that.
She arrives on a miserable foggy November night, clutching her single case and blinking grit from her eyes in the overly bright arrivals hall.
She steps through the late night crowd waiting for loved ones and out into the darkness, struggling to read her new address from the back of an aircraft napkin in the dim glow of an orange street light.
(Peckham. Mary Margaret had said, a little furrow between her brows even as she tried to smile. Sounds fancy.
If you’re a chicken, maybe. David had muttered, pulling Emma against his side. Do you have to go?)
CS Valentine: This year, my lovely valentine was toss-some-jello-tossarello, and she has been a joy to have on my dash. I’m sorry I was not able to send you messages, my dear, but you’re fantastic and I hope you enjoy your gift. 🙂
And these fingertips Will never run through your skin And those bright blue eyes Can only meet mine across the room filled with people that are less important than you. All ‘cause you love, love, love When you know I can’t love You love, love, love When you know I can’t love You love, love, love When you know I can’t love you
Emma Swan is good at running- running towards danger and away from feelings. But on her return to Storybrooke she can’t run from the fact she’s pregnant with Walsh’s child, she really must make a decision on what she’s going to do and who she can trust to support her through it.
Everyone check out @captainswanbigbang to keep up with everything produced by the amazing authors and artists participating the the Little Bang!
(A note from the artist: oh my god this fic??? is amazing. the most unique and meaningful take on the S3 Finale AU I’ve ever read. heed the warnings as the content isn’t for the faint of heart, but is ultimately so, so worthwhile.)
Emma sits down hard on the chair, cradling her sore foot. There’s no chest there in Killian’s cabin, she thinks sourly.
Fucking Black Beard and fucking Isaac and god damn her life.
Ever the gentleman, Killian had offered up the captain’s cabin for her to use while they sailed back to fix whatever Isaac had done. According to Henry, it wasn’t a curse exactly, but being swept into a storybook where their lives were all rewritten didn’t feel exactly un-curselike either.
Though it had only been two days, the rewrite makes her believe it’s been two years since she’s had a proper bath; as soon as Killian had left her to her own devices, she’d found almost everything she needed for a proper bath. Scrubbed and feeling clean, she’s been scouring the cabin for anything resembling a brush or a comb, something which seems to have been completely foreign to Black Beard, despite all his hair.
Maybe he didn’t have all that hair in this world.
Maybe it’s time she goes to raid the galley for a fork.
“Miss? Er–Emma?”
She sighs, rubbing her sore foot. It’s weird to have Killian at her side when it’s not him, not really. His… memory’s been wiped or his personality changed or… she doesn’t fucking know what Isaac did but she’s got to figure out something to get her Killian back. Or at least get this one into some kind of fighting shape if they’re gonna make any headway here. “Yeah, it’s open, Killian.”
It All Starts With a Dance 