WHY IS EVERYTHING ON ONE LAYER???

OOF. Hi guys! 👋🏼

Its been a hot minute since I updated this and for that I am EXTREMELY sorry. As the Twitter world knows, my life was kind of in a constant state of upheaval the last part of 2021 and therefore writing got put on the back burner. But I'm back and my muse has thankfully been restored!

With that being said, this chapter is all flashbacks, a look into how exactly Olicity met and came to be :)

If you need a refresher, I don't blame you - so did I!

But I hope you love it - please let me know what you think! ♥️

Cherry and Joe fell in love when they were young but were forced to go their separate ways when Cherry’s family moved away and Joe just wanted the best for him so he tried to let him go. Cherry eventually met Adam, they got engaged, but he could never let go of Joe. And when they inevitably meet later, they’re still just as in love as they always were.

They fight constantly, about everything. It doesn’t matter how silly it is, they fight about it. But they know each other and support each other unconditionally and no matter what, they pick each other anyways.

This also allows Joe to give the whole “it’s not gonna be easy. It’s gonna be very, very hard. We’re gonna have to work at it every day but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you. Forever. You and me” speech.

Also the RAIN KISS!

@starseternalnighttriumphant x @highqueenofelfhame

The Storybook

A Captain Swan AU of The Notebook

Here is my first re-release from last year’s Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom Com. Remember, the official kickoff for this invent is Memorial Day (Monday, May 28th). Tag any movie AUs #csromcom18 and tag me as well so I can reblog.

Rating: T

Trigger warning: Major Character Deaths (come on ya’ll, this is the Notebook! So just grab the tissues already . . . )

Word Count: 5,000 +

Ao3

Allie Calhoun smiled as she saw Killian Jones walking towards her down the hallway of the nursing home. He had a thick leather-bound book tucked under his arm like he always did as he approached room 301. He came every day to read to Emma Swan Jones, even though Allie was the only nurse who thought it did any good.

“He’s lost his mind as much as she has,” the other nurses would say, “believing he’s Captain Hook and his wife is the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Believing that silly book of fairy tales is real.”

But Allie knew better. She was Emma Swan Jones’ regular nurse, and she was there to see it every time she remembered. She didn’t remember every day, or even most days, but because there were days that she remembered, Killian Jones kept coming to read to her. Even though he started every day with his wife looking at him as if he were a stranger.

And yet hope was what Allie saw in his eyes as he nodded to her, like every other day, and asked, “Are you ready, lass?”

Allie grinned, returned the nod, and opened the door to room 301. Killian Jones had paid extra so his wife could have this room – a suite all to herself with a window seat in front of a beautiful set of bay windows. “She needs to have a view of the sea,” he had insisted, “it will calm her.” And though most of the staff had rolled their eyes, he had been right. Emma sat there now, gazing sadly out at the water, a lost look on her face. Her hair was still long, though now silvery gray, and her lithe figure was now gaunt, her skin papery thin and wrinkled. Yet Allie watched as the face of Killian Jones transformed. He beamed at his wife with sparkling eyes, as if nothing in the world were more beautiful. His own skin was leathery and wrinkled from many hours in the sun, his once dark hair now a dull, mottled gray. His steps were hesitant now, his gait stiff, his muscles softened and weak. Yet he still flirted with the nurses, winking and using his still plentiful charms to weasel them out of an extra helping at meal times or trying (in vain) to get out of taking his heart medication. His eyes were still the same sparkling blue of his youth, and his face though softened and lined, was still a handsome one. “I still look devastatingly handsome,” he would joke, “especially at 380.”

Emma turned her head slowly as Allie entered the room, Killian following closely at her heels. Emma frowned at the two of them, a startled look crossing her face.

“It’s okay, ma’am,” Allie was quick to reassure her, “this is just Mr. Jones. He’d like to read to you today, if that’s all right.”

Emma Swan Jones had such advanced Alzheimer’s disease, that she didn’t even remember her own name. Whenever Allie slipped up and used it, she got agitated that she didn’t know who she was. So both Allie and Killian avoided using it. Emma rose from her seat and came cautiously forward, examining Killian with suspicion.

“Do I like him?” she asked, fixing her gaze on Allie.

Allie tried not to allow herself to smile, but her lips twitched anyway as she exchanged a glance with Mr. Jones. “Yes, I think you like him okay.”

Emma shrugged, “Well, I suppose I have nothing better to do.”

Killian let out a breath. Some days Emma refused to see him at first, or even at all. Maybe today would be one of the good days. He gave Emma a cautious nod of his head and gestured gallantly at the tea table in the corner of the suite.

“Would this suit you, m’lady?”

Emma snorted, “Who are you, freakin’ Prince Charming?” Killian and Allie exchanged another amused glance at that. “I’ve already had my breakfast. I was enjoying the view, so if you want to read, you’ll have to sit over there,” she continued, gesturing towards a comfortable chair catty-corner to the window seat.

“As you wish,” Killian replied softly, watching Emma’s face closely. But she barely glanced his direction at the familiar phrase. Allie’s heart went out to him, though she knew it was much too early in the day for Emma to remember anything. He seated himself in the chair, cleared his throat, and began, “The Pirate and the Princess. Chapter One. Once Upon a Time, there lived a lost boy and a lost girl, separated by realms and time . . . “

Allie was in and out to check on her patient in room 301, lingering when she could to listen the story she had heard bit by bit a hundred times. The other nurses called her a daydreamer who wasted too much time coddling the fantasy of two senile patients.

Emma sat for most of the beginning of the tale gazing out at the water, as if she were only half listening. But when Allie came in to give Emma her supplements, she turned her head in Killian’s direction with interest.

“Wait, did you say he bandaged her hand with his teeth?”

Killian removed his reading glasses to regard his wife with an amused grin and an arched eyebrow, “Yes, that’s how the story goes.”

“Hmph,” Emma snorted, turning once more to gaze out the window, “completely unnecessary. This pirate thinks he’s God’s gift to women, doesn’t he?”

Killian chuckled at that. Emma turned back to look at him intently.

“They’re going to fall in love, aren’t they?”

Killian nodded his head slowly, his gaze never leaving his wife’s. “Yes,” he said softly.

Allie let a long moment pass as the pair of them gazed into one another’s eyes, but then Emma’s green ones glossed over, and she looked back out to sea. “Um, ma’am,” Allie said to her gently, “It’s time for your walk.”

“Oh,” Emma said almost sadly, rising with the aid of Allie’s hand to her elbow. She studied Killian’s face for a long moment then said, “Could perhaps . . . he take me on my walk?” A blush stained Emma’s face as she leaned over and whispered to Allie, “He is awfully good-looking, isn’t he?”

Allie chuckled, “Yes, I think he is, and I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

Allie could tell Killian Jones was attempting to hold back his enthusiasm as he rose eagerly from his chair, “I would be honored m’lady. Perhaps Ms. Allie could bring the book down to the bench by the water, and we could continue reading there?”

Both women nodded their consent as Killian offered Emma his arm. Allie’s heart swelled within her as she watched the elderly man guide his elderly wife out of the room. She picked up the leather volume where Mr. Jones had left it and clutched it to her chest. Oh to be loved like that . . .

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

Later, when Allie brought a blanket and two hot chocolates for the Joneses, Killian was reading about Neverland, with the pounding of the surf as background noise. “As you wish the pirate managed to stutter as he touched his lips in awe. Suddenly, he knew with startling clarity that he was in love with Emma Swan.”

“A one-time thing?” Emma interrupted.

“I beg your pardon?” Killian inquired, peering up at her over the rim of his reading glasses.

“She called the kiss a one-time thing. I don’t believe that for one second, do you?”

Killian bit his lip to suppress a smile, “Well, I don’t know. She’s a princess, and the savior, after all. He’s nothing but a pirate.”

“How can you say that?” Emma argued vehemently, “If he is, he’s a pretty lousy villain if you ask me. Saving women’s hearts and going around rescuing little boys.”

Killian pressed a hand to his lips, “Well, I suppose we’ll have to see.”

When Allie returned to escort the pair back to room 301 for lunch, Killian was just ending the scene at the town line.

“You know,” Emma remarked as she walked back across the grounds, “when she said Good, what she really meant was that she was falling for him.”

“Oh, you mean after he told her not a day would go by when he wouldn’t think of her?” Killian asked as if the story wasn’t intimately familiar to him.

“Of course,” Emma scoffed.

Killian laid his good hand on Emma’s which rested in the crook of his left arm. Allie, walking behind them, wanted to cheer when Emma didn’t pull away. “Well,” he said, “perhaps they’ll get their happy ending after all.”

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

Over lunch, Killian read about the pirate finding the princess in New York, about how she was hesitant to drink the memory potion, and the flying monkey that tried to kill the princess. Emma gasped at that revelation, then said with a shake of her head, “I knew something wasn’t right about that Walsh guy.”

The pair lingered over lunch as Killian continued the tale. He was just finishing the part where the princess became angry with the pirate because he didn’t tell her about the wicked witch’s curse when Allie had to come in and interrupt them. She bent to whisper in Killian’s ear that he had visitors – he and Emma’s children and grandchildren. They wanted to see both of them, but Allie would leave that up to Killian.

“I have visitors,” Killian explained to Emma as he put away his glasses and closed the book.

“Oh,” Emma said, her face falling, “the story was just getting good.”

He reached across the table and grasped his wife’s hand, “I’ll be back to finish it, I promise.” But he quickly saw that his reassurances were doing little to quell her rising panic. Some days the Alzheimer’s had his wife reverting back to the tough as nails bail bondswoman who trusted no one. Other days, she reverted all the way back to being a little lost girl again. Today seemed to be one of those days.

“Would you like to meet my friends?” he asked tentatively. When her face lit up, he gave a tiny nod to Allie that he had judged correctly.

“That would be nice,” Emma answered simply, trying to mask her obvious excitement.

Killian took her arm again, and they all headed downstairs, but it quickly became clear that Emma was still wrapped up in the story.

“He was only trying to protect her and Henry.”

“Who?”

“Hook. He thought if he said anything, Zelena would kill them.”

“Oh,” Killian said with a nod.

“Although,” Emma said after a brief pause, “what he should have done was tell that witch to go to hell.”

Killian laughed a pure, free, happy laugh. It was so like his Emma that it felt as if the sun were out after a long, dark storm.

Allie hung back, just in case Emma needed her, as the couple approached the small crowd seated on Adirondack chairs in the facility’s courtyard. Killian could tell their grown children were surprised to see their mother, and he prayed they would follow his lead. He patted Emma’s hand as he met each child’s gaze.

“I’d like you to meet my children and grandchildren,” he informed Emma, “or some of them, anyway.”

“Oh!” she replied, smiling brightly, “All of these are yours? How wonderful.”

“Yes,” Killian answered, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. He avoided eye contact with his children, knowing he would see hurt there. Their own mother didn’t know them! “This is my oldest daughter, Haley, my younger daughter, Clara, and this is my son Charlie. And these two little ones are Clara’s twins, Mary and Margaret.” Emma shook hands with each young adult in turn, smiling with detached politeness. But the Jones children played along, despite how much it hurt them to do so. “And this,” Killian continued, “is my oldest, Henry.”

Henry was having the most difficult time holding it together. He stayed slightly removed from his siblings, his shoulders rigid. He shuffled forward reluctantly as Emma extended her hand. Henry took his mother’s frail hand in his, his eyes immediately welling up with unshed tears.

“My my,” Emma said as she shook Henry’s hand, “you don’t seem old enough to have such a grown son!”

“Dad’s a lot older than he looks,” joked Charlie to break the tension.

They all insisted that Emma join them, and Killian helped lower her into a cushioned rocker that would be more comfortable for her. As soon as she was seated, little Mary scrambled into her grandmother’s lap. Clara scolded her, but Emma, though shocked at first, held the little girl tight.

“No, it’s okay,” Emma told them, “she’s a precious little thing.”

An awkward silence descended on the group, everyone nervous that they might say the wrong thing. Mary turned in her grandmother’s lap to pat her cheek, and something about the gesture caused Emma to get uncomfortable. Killian could see the beginning of panic settling on his wife’s features, and he hurried to retrieve Mary. Emma’s hands fluttered nervously at her throat.

“I . .. I’m getting awfully tired.”

Allie was there in a moment, and she helped a relieved Emma out of her seat and began walking her back to her room. As soon as their mother was out of ear shot, all of the Jones children leaned towards their father in concern.

“Daddy,” Haley began, “you can’t keep living like this.”

“Like what? I’m right where I belong.”

“What do you mean, dad?” Charlie argued, “You are in excellent health. There’s nothing for you here.”

“Nothing!?” Killian exclaimed, “That’s my true love in there,” he argued, pointing back up the hill where Emma had gone.

Clara leaned forward, resting a hand gently on her father’s knee, “She didn’t even know us, Daddy. Her mind is gone.”

Killian shook his head firmly, “No, it’s not. I read our story to her every day. And some days, she remembers.”

The Jones children all looked to Henry for help. He cleared his throat and stepped forward, “Come home with me, Dad. Back to Storybrooke. Grace and I have plenty of room now that the kids have all moved out.”

Killian shook his head sadly, “You too, Henry? I thought you of all people –“

Henry cut him off. “This isn’t a memory curse. This is medical. Alzheimer’s. There’s no cure.”

“Your mother and I have faced every obstacle the same way – together. I won’t leave her now. Besides, what is there for me in Storybrooke? Everyone is gone: your grandparents, Regina, Belle, Smee. I’m the last of the fairy tale characters, Henry. Frankly, I’m eager to join my kin. Your mother is the only reason I still have breath.”

His jaw clenched as he took in the wrecked expressions of his children. He knew his words hurt, but they were true. He and Emma had made solemn vows to love each other for all eternity. He intended to never break that vow.

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

Emma’s face lit up when Killian entered her room after her nap. She had settled once again in the window seat, and she gestured for Killian to take up his spot in the chair nearby. Allie was in and out as Killian read for hours. “Hook begged the princess not to do it, but she simply pulled him close, pressing his hand to her breast. I love you she breathed, then before he could respond, she pushed him backwards. He watched in agony as the black tendrils swirled around his beloved, their eyes locked on one another. Until the darkness blocked her from view. Then the black cloud disappeared, and in the empty space, a dagger clattered to the pavement. Emma Swan was etched upon the blade.”

“I’m not going to like this part of the story, am I?”

Killian startled at the sound of his wife’s voice, she had been quietly listening for so long. He gave her a sad smile, “No,” he told her honestly, “I don’t particularly like this part myself.”

She sighed so deeply, he glanced with concern at Allie.

“Do you want me to stop reading?”

“Actually, ma’am,” Allie interrupted gently, “it’s time for your dinner.”

“Okay,” Emma said softly, her gaze drifting to the carpet. Then she looked up at Killian, “Will you stay for supper too? And keep reading?”

“Aye,” he answered simply with a nod. Emma’s face seemed to startle at his answer, and for one second, he thought maybe she was remembering the day she found out he had traded his ship for her. But it passed almost as quickly.

Through dinner Killian read about Emma’s time as the Dark One and her desperate choice in the middlemist field as he lay dying. He hated to read the part about their fights as Dark Ones, but he plowed ahead, forcing his voice to remain steady. Dinner came and went, and time seemed to stand still. Allie hovered in the doorway because this was when Emma’s behavior could sometimes become erratic.

“Hook gave Emma a half smile and a nod, assuring her that it would all be okay,” Killian read, voice thick with emotion, “so with tears streaming down her face, Emma ran him through with Excalibur. As she pulled the sword free, the darkness fled, and the sword turned to ash and blew away on the wind. Hook crumpled forward, and Emma fell with him, sobbing over his body as his life ebbed away.”

Killian stopped his reading at the sound of a sob from Emma’s throat. He looked up to see her with tears streaming down her face. “It can’t,” she sobbed brokenly, “It can’t end like that.”

Killian quickly reached out for her hand and grasped it, “It doesn’t,” he assured her, rubbing his thumb in circles across the back of her hand, “I promise you, Emma, this isn’t how the story ends.”

It was Allie’s gasp from the doorway that alerted Killian to his mistake. He had used Emma’s name. His blood froze in his veins as he watched Emma’s face. She first looked confused, then she looked long at their joined hands, then she looked up at him. Her expression had cleared, and for the first time in many days, Killian saw love reflected back in her eyes. Still, he waited, holding his breath.

“It’s us,” Emma breathed. “The story – it’s us!”

A sob escaped Killian’s throat, “Oh, Emma, my love!”

“Killian!” Emma gasped out, rising from her chair so fast, it clattered to the floor.

Killian was there in a heartbeat, catching her in his arms. She kept saying his name over and over, touching his face, kissing him with the same passion they had always shared. From the doorway, Allie wept too, covering her face with her hands.

“How long have I been cursed?” Emma asked once they finally pulled away from each other.

Killian tucked a strand of her silver hair gently behind her ear, “This isn’t a curse, Swan. You have something called Alzheimer’s disease.”

He drew her closer as full comprehension dawned on her features. She wept into his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair. She pulled back to look up into his face.

“How long do we have?”

“I don’t know, love,” he answered honestly, kissing her gently on the forehead. “Sometimes you remember for a few hours. But often, it’s only a few minutes.”

She gave him that determined smile he knew so well, and with a crooked grin, told him, “Well, pirate, let’s make the most of it.”

Killian waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, “If you’re referring to more enjoyable activities on your back, I’m afraid that isn’t the wisest idea.”

She rolled her eyes and slapped him in the chest, once again the wife he knew and loved so well, “I don’t mean that, Captain Innuendo.” She drew closer, wrapping her arms around his waist, “Would you like to dance, Mr. Jones?”

“I would love to, Mrs. Jones,” he smiled back, taking her hand in his and placing his prosthetic at the curve of her waist.

“Because you know,” Emma told him, “there’s only one rule: pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

The Joneses had completely forgotten that Allie even existed; they never did on nights like this. And this – seeing this play out before her eyes on those nights – was the very reason Allie was the only nurse who believed.

As Killian led Emma around the room in an intricate waltz, she began to sing:

Tomorrow is uncertain

Who knows what it will bring?

Killian spun her and began to sing as well:

But one thing is for sure, love

With you I have everything

Then the two sang in perfect harmony:

A happily ever after

Is the way these stories go

Emma sang back, gazing adoringly into his eyes:

Used to think that’s what I wanted

But now I finally know

There’s no storm we can’t outrun.

The years seemed to melt away as Killian sang to his true love:

We will always find the sun.

Allie watched, mesmerized as the two played out a fairy tale musical number before her very eyes.

Leave the past and all its scars

A happy beginning now is ours

Killian clasped Emma close to him, swaying and humming to the music in their heads. But the moment ended far too soon. He felt Emma stiffen in his arms, then she stumbled backwards, shaking her head and mumbling.

“Who are you?”

“Oh, Emma, honey –“

But before he could reach for her, comfort her, she became hysterical.

“Get away from me!” she screamed. “Help! Help!”

Allie attempted to quiet Emma’s screams, but soon two more nurses and an orderly rushed in to assist. Emma screamed louder as the orderly held her pinned in his arms so another nurse could administer a sedative. Killian rushed forward, hating to see his wife filled with such terror, but one of the other nurses shoved his book roughly into his arms and sent him stumbling into the hall.

“You and your stupid book just make things worse,” she shouted at him.

Killian sagged in agony against the wall, pounding his fist against the wood in frustration. Tears coursed down his weathered face as the image of his wife’s face in that last moment tortured him. She looked at him like he was something hideous and terrifying. Maybe the other nurses were right; maybe it was cruel to try and help her remember. He stumbled down the hallway, the leather book tucked once again under his left arm.

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

Killian was awakened later that night by footfalls near the bed. He grumbled in frustration. Couldn’t the night nurses leave him bloody well alone? But then he was startled as the bed dipped down slightly and an arm snaked around his waist.

“Emma?”’ Killian asked tentatively as he rolled over to come face to face with his wife. This had never happened in the entire two years they had been living at the nursing home. He was completely unsure how to proceed.

“Yes,” Emma whispered with a smile as she cupped his cheek, “it’s me.”

He knew he should tell her to leave, but her face and voice seemed so like the Emma he knew, he simply pulled her closer to him. It had been too long since he held her as he slept. Too many months spent in a restless sleep because his true love was so close – just down the hall – yet so far away. They lay there, just holding one another close, for the longest time. Then Emma whispered into the darkness.

“Killian, do you think our love is strong enough to take us both home, together?”

He pulled back enough to look her in the face. The moonlight reflected in her eyes, which shone with such deep conviction. He smiled back at her as he thumbed the dimple in her chin.

“I think our love can do anything we want it to.”

Emma gave a single nod and snuggled closer to Killian, holding him tight. “Then let’s go home.”

“As you wish.”

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

Emma’s eyes fluttered open, and she found herself in an eerily familiar place: in Charon’s boat, sailing to the shores of the Underworld. But this time, she wasn’t afraid. Her true love was there, right next to her, holding her hand. When the boat reached shore, Killian got out first, then reached to help Emma onto shore as well. They turned and found a familiar face to greet them.

“Arthur!” Killian said with a smile, slapping the other man on the back in greeting.

“It’s about time you two showed up,” Arthur quipped, "everyone is eager to see you again."

“Everyone?” Emma asked, confused.

“Why, your family, of course.” Arthur answered with a wink, and he turned and gestured towards a walkway leading into blindingly bright and beautiful land.

Emma smiled at her husband and grasped his hook tightly. He smiled at her in return. Then they walked forward into the light. Together.

One minute they were walking across the stone pathway, and the next they were in a field of middlemist roses. Emma looked at Killian and gasped. The sound made Killian look in her direction, and he was startled as well. They were both young again. As a matter of fact, they looked exactly as they had in Camelot; Emma in a white lace dress and a crown of white roses, Killian in the fancy brocaded leather duster and red vest. Across the field, a white horse seemed to be waiting for them.

Killian flexed his now muscular arms, and Emma laughed at his antics. Her laughter turned to giggles as he scooped her up in his arms. Emma looked around as he carried her to the waiting horse. Everything here seemed brighter than she remembered, more . . . real. She suddenly realized why. This wasn’t Camelot at all. It was heaven.

Killian set her on the horse first and then mounted behind her. With a “hiya!” he set the horse off at an exhilarating gallop towards a castle that glittered on a distant hill.

“Where are we going?” Emma shouted into his ear.

“Just like Arthur said. We’re going home. Home to our family.”

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

Allie’s heart was heavy as she entered Killian Jones’ empty room at the nursing home. When she learned that Killian and Emma had both passed away in their sleep, together, her emotions had been mixed. She knew it was what they wanted, but still . . . she would miss them and the incredible love they shared.

Killian had left strict instructions that only Allie was allowed to clean out his things. So Allie set the cardboard box down on the empty bed with a sigh and got to work.

Allie was almost finished, kneeling on the floor in front of the bottom drawer of the room’s wardrobe. She pulled the familiar storybook out, but her finger caught on something as she did so. Curious, she rested the book on the floor and looked more carefully inside the drawer. The bottom seemed to tilt a bit. She pushed on it experimentally, and it gave a little. She pried at the edges, and eventually she was able to open a hidden panel at the bottom of the drawer. Allie shook her head with a smile.

“Pirate!” she muttered, laughing.

There were two thin leather chests inside. One was square, and the other was long and rectangular. Inside the first was a cutlass, just like pirates wielded in the movies. Allie set it inside and opened the square one next. Inside, nestled in a red satin lining, was a shiny, steel hook. Allie gasped as she slowly took it out. She held it up to the light, turning it this way and that, her mouth hanging open in shock. She had believed the story, but to actually see the hook of Captain –

“Those are my grandfather’s things!”

Allie let out a yelp at the sound of the voice in the doorway and dropped the hook. It clattered loudly to the floor. She scrambled to her feet, and her breathe caught in her throat at the sight of the young man standing in the door. He was so handsome, he took her breath away. His straight blonde hair, feel rebelliously in his eyes, which were a bright blue. His chest was broad, and just standing there angry with his hands on his hips, his biceps rippled with strong muscles. He strode forward and snatched the hook up off the floor, waving it angrily.

“Who gave you the right to go through my grandfather’s stuff?”

Allie folded her arms indignantly across her chest, “Your grandfather, actually. He left clear instructions that only I could oversee cleaning out his things.”

“Well, he left instructions with the family that his grandson Noah Jones had to come and . . .” The young man, Noah, apparently, trailed off and started to laugh. He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling, “Really, grandpa?” Then he looked Allie in the eye and extended his hand, “You must be the nurse Allie he was always going on about.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Allie answered, as she took his hand. It sounded cheesy, but a spark seemed to pass between them. Suddenly, she put the same thing together that Noah apparently had. “Oh my god! What did he tell you about me?”

Noah grinned, not seeming to mind his late grandfather’s matchmaking schemes at all, “He told me you have the heart of a true believer.”

Allie regarded him with an arched brow, “Mhm. And you, Noah Jones, are you a pirate or a prince charming?”

He shrugged, “They say I look a lot like my great-grandfather. But I say I have a bit of rogue in me.”

Allie smiled in return, “Or would you prefer dashing rapscallion?”

He leaned forward, so close Allie could feel his breath against her cheek, “Go out to dinner with me and find out.”

All those days of hearing the love story of Killian and Emma Jones, Allie had wondered if true love like that could be real. With Noah, she found out it was. Just like fairy tales. And when the lights flickered the first time they made love, she learned that magic was still real, too.

And just like Emma Swan and Captain Hook, they had many happy beginnings . . .

@shipsxahoy.

@bethacaciakay.

@galadriel26.

@teamhook.

“Alice? You have a visitor today.” Alice’s nurse knocked on the door frame and then entered her room, an older man trailing behind her. Alice looked up. She didn’t get a lot of visitors here at St. Mungo’s. Or maybe she did and she just forgot. Alice had a hard time remembering anything for more than a day, at most. Thoughts didn’t stick around in her head for very long. 

Nevertheless, the man looked nice, and the nurse was looking at her expectantly. “Okay,” Alice said softly. “Good girl. He said he’s come to tell you a story, entertain you a little. I’ll be popping in from time to time if you need anything.” The mediwitch beamed at her and then left, leaving Alice and the man alone. 

She wasn’t much for words, but she looked up at him expectantly, wondering what kind of a story he was going to tell her. 

@longbottom--frank

So I like to think that, growing up in his cult, CL was not treated like the rest of the children there.

He wasn’t fed warm food (he hates it now anyways), he never met his mother, and he was forbidden from talking to the other children.

He wasn’t a person, he wasn’t a worshipper.

He was a Martyr, a scapegoat, a sacrifice.

His screams were meant to wake the sleeping gods, his blood was to feed their stomachs, his flesh was meant to house their forms.

He doesn’t remember being human, not because he lost those memories, but because he never had them in the first place. He doesn’t feel the same sadness, the same loss at the other two.

The first time Rowan Whitethorn laid eyes on her, he knew he would never find anyone that burned quite so bright as she did. He knew with certainty that he wanted to know her, needed to know her. It was the way that she threw her head back when she laughed, the sound the most beautiful symphony he had ever heard. He ached to be the reason that laughter bubbled from her lips, wanted to be the reason that she smiled. 

It was all in the way that she twirled under the carnival lights, her dress slicing through the air as she cackled, placing another fluffy bite of cotton candy onto her tongue. She was carefree, like a bird taking flight, like she had no worries in the world. 

And Gods above if she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, her eyes flashing hues of gold and blue, striking him down like lightning when their eyes met across the way. She grinned at him, nose wrinkled ever so slightly, her shoulder length curls bouncing as she turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd with her hands tucked into the elbows of a boy and a girl. 

“Who was that?” He turned, asking his best friend. Fenrys didn’t have to ask who he meant. He already knew. 

“That,” he said, "was Aelin Galathynius.“ Rowan’s eyes were still locked by the ferris wheel where he had seen her disappear into the line, murmuring nothing but her name as she vanished completely from view.