Hello OUT fandom. This is my own creation after watching season 6 episode 1. I really enjoyed the Hyde and Emma scene- it peaked my interest, the little fan girl writer inside me. It's been awhile since I've written anything. I write firstly for myself and the pairings can at times feel... unusual. I will try to update as much as I can. I once really loved Emma and Hook, and at times still do. But lately, I've been bored with them. I miss the fire and passion. Hence why I wrote this story and the fact that I really, really like Hyde's character! So eventual smut will ensue. Feel free to comment- if not, just enjoy!
Hyde stared transfixed at the prison cell window. It provided nothing but sunlight. The window had been blotted out a long time ago with some sort of paint—preventing him from seeing anything of the outside world. The muscle in his jaw flexed. His anger scratching at his insides. He had recently escaped imprisonment. Hyde had spent years plotting his escape from his wretched land and Dr. Jekyll—only to find himself in a new land and imprisoned once more.
Hyde may have been called the Warden in the land from which he came, but in reality he had been far from it. In fact, he'd been the opposite. Caged and trapped inside a weak, simpering doctor. Yet that pathetic doctor held the potion to his freedom—then eventually created another potion to finally splinter them forever. Hyde had never felt freedom quite like that before. The freeing of his mind and body from a cage he couldn't control.
Freedom tasted sweet while it lasted.
He traded one cell for another. A bodily imprisonment, to a physical padded cage. He inhaled sharply. He wasn't sure his mind could withstand the torment of another prison so soon.
His only relief came with… her. Which surprised him to say the least. The Savior. Emma Swan. Like a bird fluttering too close to the lip of a roaring volcano. His pretty bird felt the heat on its wings and flew away before the smoldering, burning mass consumed it into its dark, fiery depths. He smirked at the thought. Such poetry, he amused. Yes, beautiful women often had that effect on him. He was reminded now of her sharp gaze—her green eyes like emerald jewels cutting across his skin. He enjoyed looking at her. She was a rare bird to behold. It brought him great amusement to poke and watch her flap her wings at him.
Hyde was impulsive and ravenous when it came to his darker desires. Sexuality was a lustful urge he let loose often back in his former land. Women of the night were the only ones he had time for. Wooing was time consuming and a wasteful endeavor when he only wanted one thing.
And Emma was certainly not in his wheelhouse of women. She was strong, irritatingly prideful and arrogant, willful and bold. He preferred the more subdued, or the ones he could subdue which wasn't hard considering his own dominating personality and physical strength. Though he wanted his women willing in the bedroom. He never forced himself on a woman who didn't desire him. That was far too primitive for his taste.
Besides, Emma Swan, Savior of Storybrook—didn't even notice him. She had her precious Captain Hook. He snorted viciously at the thought. What a simpering cad that man was. Hook was nothing more than a whiny, pretty little child. Pouting whenever he didn't get his way, wallowing in self-pity, and too cowardly to stand up for himself. Emma needed a man. She was free and unearthly, like a wild stallion. A creature too strong to let just any man throw their reigns over her, without her hooves stomping them to bits. And he assumed she did just that to all the men in her life. They were never strong enough to stand besides her. To tame her—to truly capture her and her magnificence.
Emma had that poor sod Captain Hook by the balls, literally. Hyde amused himself thoroughly with the thought of them intimate in the bedroom. He imaged that Emma wore the pants, while Hook the skirt.
His mind dallied with the idea… pretty soon his mind ran away with itself and he imagined Emma in the bedroom—but with him. His chest tightened at the thought as excitement raced down his spine. Would she be terrified? Horrified? His jaw clenched tightly. She would be revolted by him, he knew this to be sure. He was nothing to her but a villain. And oh how right she was.
Hyde swallowed his pride. Maybe his desire clouded his judgment with her? That's why he experienced a moment of doubt when he gave the red bird and 'Oracle' to her. The real Oracle died years ago. The red bird was pet to another truly terrible villain. One who showed no mercy and killed without thought. Hyde's nostrils flared and his teeth clenched. He led her into a trap.
Hyde now wondered if she would return… maybe to push a sword through his chest figuring out his game. Or she was dead, that the villain in the forest killed her. Though he doubted that. This villain loved to toy with Saviors. Torment them with false visions and horrific scenes of their deaths.
Anger, unexpectedly flooded him. His most easily accessible emotion filled him and with a fist, drove it into the pad of his cell. The wall shuddered but didn't give at his strength. Damnation. Of course, he thought bitterly. Emma had what she wanted from him—she no longer cared about the imprisoned Mr. Hyde. She would hold true to her ultimatum then, he thought coldly. She would leave him here to rot. Alone. Forgotten.
In his chains, he maneuvered to his bed and laid down stiffly on his back, his hands crossed over his stomach, his chains heavy and burdensome. He sighed. He would rest in this time. Dig deep into the core of where he truly lied. It was in his bodily imprisonment where Hyde learned to mediate the hours away and wait… patient and quiet. He would wait now. It was only a matter of time before he found his freedom once more. Until then… he retreated inside himself and found comfort in his smoldering abyss.
Emma couldn't sleep. Not after what the Oracle said to her in the forest. She tried everything to get back to her routine after the crushing news. Emma wanted to feel connected to those around her. So she went to Hook, helped the new arrivals settle in, and kissed Henry goodnight after their long and grueling day. But she felt absolutely nothing.
It was this hollow, aching feeling deep in her chest. This ache came the moment the tremble in her hands started. Everything she had worked so hard for—had wanted since she was a child—was right here! Family, friends, a place to call home, and a new love. She had everything in her grasp, yet her hands trembled upon it.
If the Oracle was right—her death was in the near future. Nothing she could do to stop it. Mr. Gold saw his future death through an Oracle and became the Dark One to avoid it. Emma had already walked that path of the Dark One and knew what darkness could do. She was not about to do it again. And she didn't want to tell anyone this was coming. Not her parents, Henry, and especially Hook. It would only make everything in her life harder. No… no one could find out. She had to handle this on her own. She was good at that. Well, she used to be good at going alone.
She turned fitfully in her bed, the sheets feeling tight and suffocating as her mind raced. What if she couldn't do this on her own? It felt suddenly overwhelming and impossible. Death? It didn't help that those visions popped up when she least expected it. The trembling made her feel physically weak- something she'd never experienced before.
She sighed and raced a frustrated hand through her thick blond hair. The only person who knew anything about this was—Hyde. She gritted her teeth. He knew about battle playing out in her head—how she saw her death coming for her. He seemed to have some knowledge about this, an understanding that she still struggled with. Maybe…
Emma quietly crept downstairs and into the kitchen. It was there that she found a bottle of red wine in the cupboard. His dark, gravelly voice echoed in her mind now, "Prisoners respond to sticks or carrots. And you brought neither. Next time, try a bottle of Syrah—two glasses". The wine wasn't a Syrah- but it'd have to do.
She hesitated. It was one thing going into his prison cell with a stick—another entirely having a glass of wine with him. Hook wouldn't like it. Though Hook didn't like much she did or didn't do some days. And it wasn't like they had any alone time to talk about feelings—hell let alone have sex. God, she forgot all about sex and how good it felt. With Hell behind her and now death coming for her, she couldn't help but miss one of the major pleasures in life such as orgasms. She would kill for one sinful night in a dark bedroom with steamy, hot, dirty, angry fucking… Not love making. No, she wanted something else entirely. She wanted primitive, wild, animalistic, carnal passions. She to scream and sweat, to moan and feel her muscles tense as she stood on the brink of oblivion. Feel freedom and sense of release.
Funny, she thought, she didn't imagine Hook for this fantasy of hers. Hook was so lovey dovey lately that she wondered if she would ever again feel that heated passion from him. Emma stilled and instantly berated herself. Of course she would feel those things with him again! They've just been busy and constantly on the run from danger or fighting danger. They couldn't catch a break, that's all.
Hyde being one of those dangers. And damn, Emma felt that stirring in her body—bad guy were her weakness.
However Hyde was contained—at the moment. And in her gut, she knew he had more to tell her about these visions. He kept his secrets about his world from her. Hyde was clever last time they saw each other, not playing all his cards, wanting her to come back. She remembered then his burning gaze. His eyes were like his words, direct, cutting and cold. He had no time to shower compliments or mince words with those around him. She supposed he could be called handsome, if he wasn't always so severe and angry. The vicious bold scar on the side of his face didn't help soften his features either. It simply made him more frightening.
Hyde was not a man to be swayed by gentleness, beauty, or sweet words. He would bend—assuming he was even capable of bending—only for his own reasons.
She wondered what it would take for him to bend. Could he break? She would imagine it would take a lot of force to break Mr. Hyde. He was too scornful, dismissive and arrogant to be manipulated. He held his superiority over everyone around him like a weapon. She shivered at being totally alone, at night, in his cell.
She wasn't uncomfortable with the idea of seeing him again—not because he intimated her, because he did. He was stronger, impervious to her magic, and dominating as all Hell. He was a scary son of a bitch. Yet… she swallowed. He wasn't at the same time. She couldn't explain it. Only that she saw the wild, caged look in his eyes today when he told her about the red bird. He gave her a invaluable clue to the vision and her trembling hands—he recognized it for what it was. She still didn't figure out why he did it.
If anything—she owed him. Maybe after sharing a couple glasses of wine—he would tell her everything he knew.
Emma, more determined now, snagged the bottle of wine. Maybe she would use a honeyed carrot instead of a stick with Mr. Hyde. Maybe that would go further for her…? Or maybe—he would wrap his large hand around her throat and… she stilled. Hyde wasn't her death. It was a cloaked figure with a sword.
Hyde might not be her death but she was still weary of the caged beast. She would have to be cautious and take her time. He was a proud, stubborn man and would need to be wooed into helping her—or worse, a trade for something. She sighed and left the house, car keys in hand. Hyde was about to receive a nightly visit from the Savior.