on screen [CS&COLIFER]

i. restless [captain swan]

twist,

turn,

twist,

turn.

crash.

burn.

she thrashes idly in a vain attempt to be engulfed by complete and serene darkness as her heart appears to have almost been once upon a time [her entire life is a giant mass of almost, almost, almost, and she almost absolutely fucking shatters at the thought of almost, bloody almost] only to end in a mass heap of limbs bent at awkward angles, crisp linen sheets and frayed woolen blankets.

sleep. sleep. sleep.

clouded images of her dear mother, mary margaret, paper skin, ebony hair, snow bloody white, fairy tale character, mother of two, her mother, her mother, her mother, mary margaret, not her mother, blind her.

". . . it's not what i wanted. . . i want another go. . . another baby. . ."

"emma!" mary margaret yells. the savior's heart settles in the pit of her stomach as a baby nestles in mary margaret's. baby.

". . . support group. . . first time mother. . . never raised a baby. . ." her blood boils, the bottle in her hand results the victim. mary margaret shuffles backwards.

and here she lies, wide awake, a hurricane of bloodshot, swollen, eyes, puffy features and raging emotions, the aftermath of the day's previous events.

tears well up in her forest colored eyes but she refuses to awake tomorrow to yet another damp pillow, to wail into the soft cushion until sleep is an only option. she refuses to allow her soft cries to lull her to sleep. not tonight.

which is how emma swan winds up aimlessly wandering [sleep deprivation has emma stumbling, a clumsy baby deer tripping over her own two feet under the streetlights of storybrooke] throughout the quaint little town, even before the ass crack of dawn. she finds herself staring at the vast ocean, the jolly roger to the left of her vision steps later.

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killian jones is often, if not always, found awestruck and short of breath on the sherrif's account [because she is both bloody brilliant and beautiful] and this time, he decides, is not a nor the exception.

seven soft knocks on his door awake him from his slumber and the damn pirate swears at the human being [assuming it is human] for awakening him at this god forsaken hour as he scrambles to open the door.

the door slowly creaks open to reveal emma swan, clad in wrinkled pale, pink, and striped pajamas, hair a mess, feet shoved clumsily into boots, flannel pants half tucked in. his anger vanishes.

"swan?"

her eyes flash with panic as her reddended and swollen features become apparent to him despite his groggy state. his heart plummets as a storm emotions [concern, panic, worry, adoration, love] hit him.

"emma, love?" he makes a move to embrace her petite figure.

"i- i'm sorry. i-i just. i-i'm sorry- i sh-" she manages to choke out and she plans to run, to flee, because all she has ever touched has shattered, and not him, not him, never him, but damn her bloody pirate, damn him for knowing his swan, damn him.

she takes one sole step backwards, one, and then she is thrashing in his arms on the cool, wooden floor, trying desperately to escape his warm and comforting embrace, and not him, as he attempts to soothe her while tightening his hold on her. she stills, hiccuping against his chest.

captain hook is ruthless, a fearsome pirate, the deadliest rapscallion to have ever sailed amongst the seven seas but where and when his swan is involved, he is simply killian jones, lovestruck fool. his heart aches and he is, once more, killian jones.

emma shivers and killian ultimately takes note of the cold, night, air. he loosens his hold, only slightly, only enough, to tuck her into his chest and carry her into his captain's quarters. he stays silent as he sets her onto his bed. the only noise heard escapes her plump lips [which killian will never admit to have dreamed of] as he attempts to move away. his heart melts as she makes grabby hands [as a small child would, demanding silently to be picked up] at his tall and well built frame. "stay."

and his head pounds as his heart swells because bloody hell, she wants him to stay.

seconds later, emma has tucked herself into him, tightly clutching his night wear but he doesn't bat a single eyelash as her sharp nails threaten to ruin the flimsy garment because her body was bloody well built to mold into his and she has taken to seek comfort from him and he is admant on offering her this universe and the next.

hearts, ships, circles, squares, all types of shapes, etched into her lower back by the dashing scoundrel himself later, she startles him by uttering three simple words [admittedly not the three words he wanted to hear but he had begun to believe she had fallen asleep].

"i terrify them."

he stays quiet, silently asking her to further elaborate.

"mary margaret is attending a class for women new to motherhood. she- she wouldn't let- she didn't want- she thought i would hurt neal. she stepped back and her eyes- they- they were clouded with fear and i just-" and then his swan is a mess of strangled sobs and he squeezes her tight, hoping against hope, to squeeze tight enough for all of her broken pieces to come together, to snap back into place and make her whole again.

she falls back alseep to the soft lull of his voice, whispering a nursery rhyme most likely dated back 300 years and she wants to tease him about it, but her eyelids are suddenly all too heavy.

○

[two nights pass and insomniac, blue polka dot pajama clad emma swan is once again found knocking softly at his door.

three months and the savior is near living in his (which he has nearly begun to call their) small threshold.

four months, seven days, and emma swan is irrevocably in love with killian jones (/captain hook because she's a fan of every part of him).]

○

[a/n:

emma swan loves killian jones.

pass it on. x]