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ilovemesomekillianjones · 6 years ago

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(Un)Comfortable

Here’s a little one shot based on a hilarious text image, not sure where actual credit goes for the photo below, (it was on google images and had been reposted here) but thanks to the hilarious genius behind it.

I read it and thought of Emma and Killian right away. This is written in the canon universe, and even though it’d never happen, this is just me having fun and attempting to be humorous. I hope you enjoy. Thanks @hollyethecurious for your skilled beta services.

ao3 ffnet Rated M 2.2k

Killian sat at the table across from his in-laws. Now in-laws, there’s a word Killian Jones never expected to be associated with. It wasn’t uncomfortable per se, as they sat in silence. He’d chased their daughter to other realms, and let his undying love be known to them over the past several years. He’d been on adventures with these two, cursed with them, trapped with them, he’d committed crimes against them - now forgiven - and they’d seen him at his literal worst. How could he possibly be uncomfortable around them?

Five minutes earlier…

“You made us late again.”

“But it was for a noble cause.”

“Since when is ravishing your wife repeatedly on a Sunday morning classified as noble?”

“Since I nobly made you come three times on said Sunday morning.”

Emma paused, hand on the entrance to Granny’s, and appraised her husband’s cocky expression, eyebrow raised, lips turned up at one corner and his tongue - oh, that tongue - running along the edge of his teeth. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a right to be cocky. He had in fact made her come three times this morning, and it had been mind blowing, but once again, they were late to Sunday morning breakfast with her parents.

“Awfully smug there, pirate.”

Killian just shrugged his shoulders, feeling well within his rights to be a little... cocksure. “Just taking credit where it’s due.”

Emma’s eyebrows hit her hairline. Oooh, he’s feisty this morning! she thought. She decided then and there she’d be taking him down a peg or two, perhaps she was the one that was feisty this morning. Pulling open the door, she bowed and gestured for Killian to enter, “After you, oh noble king of all things women’s pleasure.”

Killian’s eyes bugged as he sent her a questioning look. He leaned into her frame as he stood in the doorway, “It’s a damn good thing it’s noisy in here, love, we don’t need everyone knowing about my… prowess.”

Emma tilted her head, “Oh, no?”

“And besides, you’ve got it all wrong, I am actually the king of all things Emma’s pleasure.”

The cheeky bastard winked and swept inside. There weren’t words grand enough in her vocabulary to describe the kind of lover her husband was, suffice to say he was the best, and she was positive there was not a soul more capable of bringing her greater pleasure. Still, Emma barely resisted the urge to slap the back of his head.

Killian stopped to greet Granny, it never ceased to amaze Emma just how much the old woman enjoyed flirting with the roguishly handsome pirate. She is sure that’s where Ruby got her audacious flirting from.

She walked ahead to join her parents at their Sunday breakfast booth where they stood up to hug her as they did every Sunday.

“Hey mom, dad,” she greeted, squeezing them both at once. “I just want to apologize-”

“We know, we know, you got caught up with laundry, or dishes, or whatever, it’s no big deal,” Snow interrupted.

“Um, actually, I’m apologizing for what’s about to happen.”

David and Snow cocked their heads and gave their daughter a look of confusion as she slid into the booth while they took their seats.

Emma leaned in quickly and whispered, “Just want to have a little fun with my pirate this morning.”

Killian slid in next to Emma a moment later and pecked her cheek. “Sorry we’re late this morning,” he apologized.

David was still looking at his daughter, wondering what she was apologizing for, if not for being tardy. Unbeknownst to him, David fell right into his daughter’s web. “So, why were you late?”

“David! That’s none of our business.” Snow had already barged in on the couple once when they were partaking in morning activities she did not want to discuss over breakfast. They were habitually late, and Snow for one was not going to worry herself about the whys, instead she and David had taken to arriving a half hour later than the agreed upon time.

“Do you want to tell them?” Emma asked her husband. “Or shall I?”

“By all means,” Killian answered reaching to turn over Emma’s coffee cup and then his own.

Emma snuggled up to Killian and kissed his cheek. “This one just couldn’t get enough this morning.”

Killian’s coffee cup slipped from his hand and hit the table loudly. The glass didn’t break, but it bounced several times causing quite the disturbance. He was staring at his wife as though she’d stabbed him.

“What?” Emma smiled sweetly at him. Where’s your braggadocio now? she mused.

Killian’s eyes darted to his mother-in-law who had her eyes squeezed shut just as she had that morning she’d barged in on them, as if willing away Emma’s words. He chanced a glance at his father-in-law and best mate. He did not look happy. He didn’t necessarily look mad either, more like a deer in headlights as the folks in this world liked to say.

Killian cleared his throat and squirmed in his seat. “I think what Emma meant to say is, I couldn’t get enough sleep. I was terribly comfortable, and I made us late with my laziness.”

David exhaled the air he’d sucked in, all too ready to accept the shoddy excuse. Snow however cracked an eye open to assess the situation. One look at Killian’s bright pink ears and Emma’s diabolic smile and she knew it was lie.

“We all need a little extra rest from time to-”

“Oh no, Dad,” Emma interrupted him, shaking her head dramatically. “We were not sleeping. Don’t be shy, babe. What was it you said? Oh, yeah. The king of all things Emma’s pleasure.” She leaned in again and nuzzled his ear.

David blanched and immediately clapped his hands over his ears while shooting his daughter a death glare. He could not comprehend how this was ‘having fun with her pirate’. Was she trying to punish them? Had they upset her?

Killian pressed his shoulder up to his ear where Emma was nuzzling him, trying to figure out just what had gotten in to his wife. “Swan, I am quite certain your parents have no interest in what goes on behind our bedroom door.”

Granny walked up to the table and shot David a look like he’d lost his mind as she poured them each a coffee. “Anyone want anything different, or will you all be having your regular Sunday fare?”

“The regular,” David, Killian, and Snow all mumbled.

“Hmmmm,” Emma exaggerated, “you know what Granny? I’m starved, what do you have that would satisfy a Romanian powerlifter. Killian really helped me work up an appetite this morning.”

Granny waggled her eyebrows salaciously. “I knew it!”

Emma’s brows furrowed and she shook her head trying to clear out whatever image Granny was conjuring up in her own perverted mind.

“The Miner’s Breakfast is what you need!” Granny supplied, then headed back behind the counter.

“Sounds delicious!” Emma picked up her coffee and took a small sip before announcing her need to use the restroom.

So, it wasn’t uncomfortable per say, but it wasn’t comfortable, to be sure.

David was now glaring at his son-in-law, he wasn’t quite sure what had spurred his daughter’s lunacy this fine Sunday morning, but he knew it was, in some way shape or form, the pirate’s fault.

“So, what do you have planned for this week,” Snow asked trying to fill the silence that had fallen over their table. “Are you boys still going fishing with Henry after school on Wednesday?”

David huffed and ran a hand threw his hair. “I don’t know, Hook might have other plans.”

“Oh, I’m back to Hook, I see,” Killian muttered. He dug his phone out of his pocket when it buzzed, signaling an incoming something or other. He looked down to see a text from Emma, sliding the screen, it opened to the text box.

E: I wanna cuddle you.

Well that was decidedly less evil than the game she’d been playing a moment ago.

E: And spoon

Killian wouldn’t lie, he wouldn’t announce it to the world either, but he loved to snuggle… and spoon. Perhaps if he played nice, she’d quit trying to get her father to stab him again.

K: Awwww very sweet

He locked the phone and stuck it back in his pocket.

“I am still up for sailing this Wednesday, if you are Dave.”

“See, it’ll be a fun boys trip! Emma and I are going out for dinner and a movie, Belle is babysitting.”

“I don’t want to hear about you being up for anything,” David grumbled

Killian rolled his eyes and grabbed his vibrating phone back out as the couple continued talking.

“Enough David,” Snow chuckled at her petulant husband, “Emma is clearly just trying to razz Killian.”

“Well it backfired, she’s razzing me!”

Another new message had arrived. He slid the screen again and choked on the coffee he’d just sipped.

E: And give you boners at inappropriate times and places

As he read the message again, and continued coughing uncontrollably from the liquid that had gone down the wrong pipe, a picture popped up on his screen. Despite hacking, despite his in-laws sitting across the table from him, despite the diner full of Storybrooke denizens, his pants immediately tightened as he stared at the photo she’d just sent. And just like that, things became a bit less comfortable.

Selfie, Emma Swan style, shirt gone, one hand grasping a perky breast and tweaking her pert nipple, the other holding the phone to snap a picture in the reflection of the mirror. She was biting her lip and positively eye fucking him through the lens.

“Are you okay, Killian?” Snow asked with alarm coloring her tone. “He’s turning bright red, David! He might be choking.”

“He wouldn’t be able to cough if he was actually choking.”

Snow started to stand up and round the table.

“No!” Killian yelled, dropping his phone in his lap and holding his hook out to stop her from coming closer. “I’m fine, I’m okay,” he sputtered between deep coughs. Grabbing one of the cloth napkins from the table, he wiped at his mouth.

“See, he wouldn’t be able to talk either if he was choking.”

“You were turning so red, I got a little worried,” Snow said. “Are you sure you’re okay.”

“Aye,” Killian affirmed. Just as he did his phone vibrated against his hardened cock and he jumped in his seat causing his phone to clatter to the floor.

“I’ll get it,” Snow volunteered.

“No!” Killian shouted again, voice a full octave higher than normal.

His in-laws frowned, taken aback by his slightly erratic behavior, but chalked it up to the oddity of the whole morning.

“I mean, that’s not necessary.” He quickly bent below the table to grab his phone. Out of habit he flipped it over to check that the screen was still in tact. “Bloody hell,” he groaned.

“Is it broken,” Snow asked, reminding Killian that he was still in public. His cock was uncomfortably straining against the uncomfortable zipper of his jeans, and Killian Jones was suddenly hyper-uncomfortable.

“No, no it’s fine,” he murmured as he gazed at the next photo that had arrived.

Emma Swan, selfie number two, pants off, leg hiked up on the sink of the bathroom at Granny’s fucking diner, middle and ring fingers plunged deep inside her so just her wedding ring was showing, looking in the mirror like she’d devour him whole if given the chance. God damn, she made him hard as rock.

“You okay down there?” his wife asked sweetly.

His head hit the table as he made to sit back up. “Shite!” he cursed as he sat back up and rubbed the back of his head. She must have sent it after getting dressed, he thought.

Emma stood just outside the booth looking at him with an innocent smile on her face.

“Aren’t you gonna sit?” Snow asked.

“Oh, I was just waiting to have my spot back,” she answered her father sweetly, then looked to Killian again.

Jaw clenching, Killian pursed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. He shook his head infinitesimally, trying to signal to her that he was in no condition to stand up in front of her parents, let alone the townsfolk.

“Oh, please Killian, I really like sitting on the inside, it would bring me great pleasure.”

“Just give her the damn seat,” David growled.

Killian shoved his phone in his pocket then snatched his napkin again. Slowly sliding out of the bench seat and trying to inconspicuously hold the napkin over his not so inconspicuous boner, as Emma had so revoltingly referred to it, he stood up so his wife could take the inner seat.

“Oh, thanks babe. You’re just the best... the king of all things Emma’s pleasure.”

“Just you wait, you bloody minx, revenge is going to be mine,” he whispered into her ear as she pecked his cheek. Her eyes flashed with what he knew to be one part challenge and two parts lust, causing his smuggest smile to return.

End

Tagging some lovelies who I see still active around fandom. If you don’t want to be tagged please don’t hesitate to pm me. Thanks!

@laschatzi @xhookswenchx @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @kmomof4 @xemmaloveskillianx @delightfully-difficult-pirate @nikkiemms @badwolfreturns @artistic-writer @onceuponamirror @tiganasummertree @jennjenn615 @branlovestowrite @snidgetsafan @golfgirld @sherlockianwhovian @demisexualemmaswan @teamhook @lifeinahole27 @spartanguard @deathbycaptainswan @wyntereyez @thislassishooked @word-bug @effulgentcolors @flslp87 @gingerchangeling @hooklineandswan @initiala @killian-whump @optomisticgirl @thesschesthair @roseyflush @ultraluckycatnd @whimsicallyenchantedrose @wordsmith-storyweaver @yayimallamaagain @jonirobinson64 @darkcolinodonorgasm@blowmiakisscolin@superchocovian @tiganasummertree @kday426 @resident-of-storybrooke @cocohook38 @bleebug

#cs ff #cs fan fic #cs humor #cs smut adjacent #captain swan

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spartanguard · 7 years ago

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a rose in the deeps of my heart: waterfall

well, @cocohook38, you wanted some fae!CS...it’s not Christmas—quite the opposite, really—but it just kind of spilled out. hope you (and some others) enjoy!

(rated M-ish)

One thing Emma quickly figured out about the fae realm was that, other than moderately clearer skies, the weather was the same as the outside world.

The downside, however, was that the fae realm had yet to discover air conditioning. And it was not immune to the effects of global warming.

So while Emma would never trade her family or her True Love for anything, she’d certainly give her left wing for some ice cream and a fan. The only time she enjoyed the feel of sweat glistening on her skin was during “far more enjoyable activities,” as Killian would put it, not merely from the effort of walking and/or flying down to breakfast.

Thankfully, Killian also had ideas for cooling her down. After lunch at Granny’s on the hottest day of the summer—complete with chocolate milkshakes—he led her through the forest and into one of the remote pockets of the fae realm, the one with the waterfall where he’d first shown her his wings.

The pool at the base of the fall had never looked more perfect or enticing as it did right now: it rippled a cool blue-green color that complemented the lush, almost tropical green of the foliage and shrubbery. It was like a bit of a rainforest in the middle of Ireland—and with the intense humidity, almost felt like it.

Ever the gentleman, Killian guided her down to a flat stone at the water’s edge, where she didn’t hesitate a moment to strip off her sticky shorts and tank top down to the bikini she wore underneath, letting her wings flap freely, but even that started to feel stifling.

It didn’t last long, though, because a second later, she was suddenly under water. The cool of the pool was initially jarring, and her body seized up for a moment, but she quickly acclimated and let the relief wash over her.

That didn’t stop her feigned indignation when she rose back to the surface, where Killian was sitting on the rock with a trademark smirk. She tried to glare at him, but it was hard to stay mad long when he looked so adorable—and enticing. With his wings freed and wearing just his swim trunks, she had an unparalleled view of his fit upper body and his perfect dusting of hair. And she was suddenly desperate to see him wet, too.

So she splashed him, smiling as he winced adorably at the cool water.

“What was that for?” he cried indignantly.

“You’re too dry. Get in the pool.”

“Oh yeah? Make me,” he challenged, and she was starting to regret how much media she’d exposed him to. But the accompanying devilish grin was all him.

Well, two can play that game. Carefully, she scooped a bit of water into her palms and flapped her wings to rise from the pool. And, once she was above him, opened her hands, spilling on his head.

He cringed and sputtered, and pushed his now-wet bangs out of his eyes. “Seriously?”

She just smiled back. “I told you: you’re too dry.”

“Even still?”

“Aye,” she answered, mimicking his accent.

“Well, then.” He stood, and then without any warning, launched himself up off the rock, jumping so he could grab her ankle…and then pulled her down to the depths with him, creating a massive splash of water she was sure could be heard beyond the realm’s barrier.

She rose to the top as quickly as her legs would take her and waited for him to surface a moment later. This time, she beat him to the punch, brushing his hair back to get a look at those blue, blue eyes and wrapping her other arm around him to bringing them chest to chest.

“How’s this now?” he asked, voice low.

“Much, much better,” she murmured as her fingers began dragging through the hair that was now plastered to his chest. The cool water had done wonders for her overheated skin, but wasn’t doing anything about the fire building within her. Or him, from the feel of things. Guess cold water doesn’t affect fae like it does human guys.

Without hesitation, she attacked his mouth and wrapped a leg around him, thankful the pool was relatively shallow and he was standing firm. She was vaguely aware of the beat of both their wings as their lips and tongues danced, but she was more than used to it by now. But the ripples created from their rhythm splashed against their sides in the chest-deep water and started to echo in the movement of her hips against his, and she knew they needed to move somewhere dry, and fast.

Funny how that was what she needed now, when at first she just needed him wet.

She broke the kiss to begin to ask for a relocation, but Killian beat her to it. “Did I ever tell you there was a cave behind that waterfall?”

“Oh really?” she breathed.

“Aye. And not a creepy cave; it’s rather cozy, well-lit…plush.”

“Lead the way.”

With a hooded gaze, he took her hand and dragged her through the water toward the fall, magically parting it reveal the nook behind.

And as the curtain of water fell closed behind her, all she could think was how she couldn’t wait to get hot and sweaty again.

tagging some other fae!killian fans: @kat2609 @optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @thesschesthair @its-like-a-story-of-love @shipsxahoy @phiralovesloki @nfbagelperson @fairytalesandtimetravel @the-captains-ayebrows @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @ultraluckycatnd and I’m probably forgetting some bc it’s been a while; apologies!

#fae!killian #cs ff #cs smuff #cs smut adjacent #my ff

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spartanguard · 2 years ago

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BUT WHY DID THEY STOPPPPPPPPPPP

AND WHY DID THIS CHAPTER HAVE TO ENDDDDDDD

SOOOOO GOOOOOOOOOD

the part of a swan / chapter six

It should be clear that Emma did not, by any means, regret her ruination. She did not miss the person she had been before that night; the eager, naive girl, brought up always to behave a certain way, to speak softly, to do as she was bidden, to be what she was told.

Emma no longer believed in allowing people to tell her who she could be.

But Killian Jones is not concerned with who she was–he’s interested in who she is. And he might be the only one smart enough to uncover the truth.

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five [cover art by @snowbellewells ]

She flitted from partner to partner, from dance to dance—three impoverished fortune hunters; an ancient marquess with an illegitimate family tucked away in the countryside, an earl of questionable breeding and wandering hands.

The Swan had a file on each of them, of course. Still and all, Emma could not deny that Jones was delivering on his promises. The columns were working, and she could not take her eyes off their author.

He stayed, unmoving, on one end of the ballroom, which made it difficult for Emma to watch him without being caught.

She sighed. When she was younger, Emma Nolan had believed with all of her heart that nights like this one could be magical. The right partner, the glow of the light, the hum of the music—it had been magical.

Emma Swan was not a believer. She would do what she needed to do for her son and she would not let Killian Jones disrupt her plans or the path she had chosen. She was here to do a job, and to play a part, and to get out clean.

Nothing else. Not tonight.

As the orchestra rested, Emma scanned the room again. Another sip of Champagne went down easily enough but she needed to keep her head clear, especially when she thought she saw—

Neal.

continue reading on AO3

for @snowbellewells and @kmomof4 and @spartanguard and @tiganasummertree and their amazing feedback. for @wistfulcynic and @thisonesatellite, who sponsored this chapter. for @shireness-says and the legacy of the @cshistfic. @mariakov81 @lfh1226-linda @motherkatereloyshipper @julesep3026

#cs fic rec #cshistfic #the part of a swan #ohmightydevviepuu #cs smut adjacent

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donteattheappleshook · 5 years ago

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Ok how about a double date CS w/ Snowing instead of the outlaws

Sorry this took me a little while to answer but man, something this fluffy turned out to be a hell of a challenge! So thanks for your patience and for making me flex my fluff muscles. I also have no idea how this ended up being over 10 000 words.....

I combined this prompt with one I received on Ao3 asking for a CS date during the six week gap in season 4. Hope you like it!

big thanks to @xhookswenchx and @teamhook for looking this over when I was pulling my hair out!

Also on Ao3 as part of my new CS Prompt Collection

-/-

Seal of Approval

Emma gets up quickly, sets down one of the giant muffins her mom made and heads in the direction of the crib when she hears her brother crying. Damnit, she’d only just gotten him to sleep, only just gotten to sit down and have a bite to eat. Babysitting sucks. She loves baby Neal - even if she isn’t the biggest fan of his name - but anyone that comes between her and a snack is going to have something to answer for.

“Hey, man,” she says, picking him up out of his crib and bouncing him on her hip. “Couldn’t hold in the waterworks until Mom and Dad came home?” Neal stops crying and smiles up at her, grabbing a fistfull of her sweater and leaning his head on her shoulder. Okay, maybe he’s not so bad. He could be worse. He could be a giant ice monster, or a dragon, or the Dark One.

She shudders. It’s been three weeks since their last crisis, since the Ice Queen sacrificed herself and since Belle banished Gold from Storybrooke. Emma still can’t believe she did that, can’t believe the amount of guts and backbone that it took for her to do that despite the love she’s sure Belle will always have for him. But he’d gone too far, threatened too many people, lied to them too many times, and he’d had to pay the price.

Since he’s been gone it’s been, well, quiet. It’s strange - for Storybrooke anyway. Emma and her dad take turns working at the station, Mary Margaret is back at the school regularly now that there’s no monster to fight. Killian has been spending his time working alongside Belle to help free the fairies from the Sorcerer’s hat - that’s a friendship Emma hadn’t seen coming, but she’s glad that Killian has someone else in town to spend time with besides her and David. He’s really starting to feel like a part of the community.

Today is her day off, and while she’d have liked to spend it hanging out with Killian on his newly returned ship - not that they really ever leave the cabin but that’s besides the point - he and Belle are pretty sure they’ve had a breakthrough and Granny had to cancel on babysitting. So she’d agreed to do it. How much trouble can a kid be? She has fake memories of raising one after all. Neal spits up in her hair. She sighs. How much longer until her parents get home?

“Hi Sweetheart,” Snow says, walking through the door just as Emma has set Neal down with a few of his toys and is attempting to wash baby vomit out of her hair in the kitchen sink. “How was your day?” she asks, picking the baby up. David walks in behind her.

“Great,” she lies. Her mom doesn’t need to know. “He already had his supper but I didn’t give him his last bottle yet.”

“Thanks,” David says, kissing her forehead. It’s still a bit weird, knowing that David and Mary Margaret are her parents, that they’re the same age as her. But it’s weird in the same way that it’s weird that everyone in town is a fairytale character. She’s starting to get used to it and if she doesn’t think about it too much, she can forget it. Mostly. Usually.

“How was the station, Dad?” she asks.

“Quiet,” he says. “Just some teens graffitiing the alley behind Granny’s.”

“Did you use your scary prince face?” she asks.

“I don’t have a scary prince face!” he insists. “But no, I sicked Granny on them,” he tells her with a knowing smirk.

Emma laughs. “How was school?” she asks Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret goes on to tell her about her day, about the work the kids are doing, how they’re adjusting to everything. She also mentions that she saw Killian and Belle on her way home and that they were finishing up at the library from the looks of it.

“Killian was walking her home,” she tells her. “It was sweet. I think he worries about her.”

Emma smiles a little. “Yeah, well, Killian has a history with women who’ve loved the Dark One.” Both her parents frown and she realises this is not a backstory she wants to get into - or one that’s hers to tell. “I think I’ll head over,” she tells them. “Go meet Killian on the Jolly if he’s done for the day.”

“Again?” David asks and the way he says it makes her pause.

“What do you mean ‘again’?”

“Well you’ve - you’ve been there almost every night this week,” David says.

“Yeah, it’s Regina’s week with Henry. What’s your point?” she asks with a raised brow.

“David,” Snow interrupts. “She’s a grown woman. If she wants to spend her time at her boyfriend’s that’s totally up to her.”

“Boyfriend?” David demands, shock and disbelief and a hint of panic in his tone.

“David...” it’s a warning this time.

“Do you have a problem with me dating Killian?” Emma asks. She thought her dad was starting to like Killian. Had she been wrong?

There’s a long, tense moment before David speaks. “No,” he says finally, shoulders falling on his exhale. “I just… didn’t realise you guys were so serious.” He’s trying really hard to sound casual and she appreciates that.

“Yeah, well,” she says. It is serious. She thinks. They date and spend most nights on his ship together, they’re sleeping together and as far as she knows neither of them are sleeping with other people. He tried True Love’s Kiss on her for god’s sake and as terrifying as that idea still is… well, yeah, she’s pretty sure it’s getting serious. More serious than she’s let anything get in a long time. Walsh doesn’t count.

“Then I think we should meet him,” David says and both Emma and Snow turn to him in confusion. “Properly.”

“Dad, you know Killian.” Was there another curse that came through town that she didn’t hear about?

“I don’t mean meet him I mean…” he searches for words. “If we were back in the Enchanted Forest, or even if we’d been able to raise you here, if you were dating someone seriously you would have brought him over, for dinner or something, so that we could meet him properly, as your boyfriend.” He nearly chokes on the last word.

Emma frowns at him, skeptical. “Is this some weird thing so that you can ask him about his intentions or something?”

“No!” he insists quickly. He clears his throat. “Besides, I already did that,” he adds quietly.

“You did what?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No, he didn’t tell me!”

“Huh,” is all David says.

“Probably because he knew it would make me annoyed at you. He wouldn’t want that.” David’s face softens and looks guilty all at once. “He’s changed.”

“I know he has. I just… we didn’t get to raise you and meet any of your boyfriends. This time, if it’s something real, I want to get to know him better,” he says and Emma lets her hackles down a little. “Why don’t you invite him over for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Are you planning to interrogate him?”

“No… I mean I have some questions,” he starts and holds a hand up when Emma starts to protest. “But they’re normal questions. The kind a dad should be allowed to ask the man who’s dating his daughter.”

Emma sighs. “I get it, Dad. I do. But, I’m not a kid. We’re the same age and bringing my boyfriend over for some formal, meet the parents dinner just feels… weird.”

“Why don’t we do something else then?” Snow chimes in, ever the peacekeeper. “Maybe… a double date!”

“A what?” Emma and David answer in unison.

“Like you said, we’re all the same age. Why don’t we all go out and do something fun together? That way, we can get to know Killian better without so much pressure. Emma has a point, Sweetheart. The age thing makes it weird so maybe, this way, we can work on being friends,” she finishes very diplomatically, her hand stroking David’s arm.

“But I…” David starts.

“Honey, our daughter is a grown woman. Killian is older than you. We can’t pretend she’s a little girl that needs looking after. Besides, it’s been a while since we had a date night.”

David sighs, caving. “Alright,” he agrees and Emma shares a thankful look with her mom. David looks up again. “But can I at least -”

“No,” Snow and Emma cut him off.

-/-

“So listen,” Emma says, propping her chin on Killian’s chest, her fingers drawing patterns through the hair there. “I need you to do something for me.”

Killian’s smile is obscene as he pulls her in closer, hand wandering over her naked back. “Anything,” he promises as his fingers trace over the skin at the curve of her hip. He’s gonna regret saying that, she thinks. She really wishes she didn’t have to ask him what she’s about to ask him because she knows it’s going to stop the trail of his hand cold.

“I need you to go on a date with me and my parents.”

He freezes, blinks. “I’m sorry?” he asks with a small shake of his head, eyes wide. “What?” He’s frowning at her now and it’s really almost funny to watch all the emotions play across his face. She pulls back, sits up, letting the sheet fall around her waist and taking a moment to appreciate the way his eyes drift down despite his confusion.

“David and Mary Margaret want to go on a double date with us.”

“They want to spend an evening out with us? With me? With the man who is currently engaging in sexual congress with their daughter?”

She smacks him on the shoulder and he laughs, catching her hand and pulling her back down on top of him. “Oh my god. You cannot make reference to the fact that we’re having sex! I think my dad is still trying to convince himself that I’m a virgin.” Killian smiles wickedly again and she glares. “Don’t,” she warns and he bites his lip.

“So what exactly would this evening entail? Would they care to join us for a night on the Jolly Roger?”

Emma shakes her head. “It’s too cold. We just don’t notice it because we stay down here.”

“That’s not true,” he insists. “There was that one night on the deck. I believe we managed to keep quite warm.” She rolls her eyes. “So what then? Dinner at Granny’s?”

She shakes her head again. “They said that wasn’t special enough since we eat there all the time together. And the whole town would be there.”

“Alright. Then what did they suggest?”

Emma shuts her eyes and buries her head in his chest, not wanting to say her next words. “They want to go for drinks at the Rabbit Hole,” she mumbles against him.

“The Rabbit Hole?” he asks and she can hear the raised eyebrow in his tone. “Why the devil would they suggest that?”

“Because I told them we go there,” she groans. He’s looking at her when she finally lifts her head, waiting for an explanation. “They had another one of those ‘we’re not old, we’re fun’ moments and they asked me what we like to do with our time together and I panicked because I couldn’t tell them what we actually do when we spend the night together so I just blurted out that we like to go hang out at the Rabbit Hole and they just jumped on the idea and well, here we are.”

Killian looks equal parts like he wants to laugh and jump overboard at the idea of going to a bar with her parents. It’s not her fault! She had to come up with something and the truth of the matter is that she and Killian are still in the honeymoon period of their relationship - though she doesn’t really see it slowing down anytime soon. This is the first quiet moment they’ve had since they really got together. This is the first time they’ve been able to really be together and not just find a few stolen minutes when her parents are out of the loft or when they could steal away to his room at Granny’s. It’s nice, just being able to enjoy each other.

“Well,” Killian finally says. “I suppose it has been a while since I took you out properly.” Emma looks up at him, relieved and hopeful. “Besides,” he shrugs, his hand resuming its path again. “It could be fun.”

Emma does not appreciate the look in his eye when he says that - well, okay she does, a lot, but not the implication of what that look could mean for tomorrow night. “Behave yourself,” she warns him.

“I don’t know what you mean, Swan,” he insists. “I will be the picture of propriety.” Yeah right. She doesn’t believe that for a second.

“My dad still has a sword.”

Killian smirks, rolls her over onto her back and settles his hips into the cradle of her thighs. He gives her a wink. “So do I.”

-/-

When Emma and Killian arrive at the Rabbit Hole, the place is already nearly packed with people. Emma’s not surprised, the town only has one bar and, well, there’s not much else to do on a Friday night here. She’s broken up enough fights at one in the morning when she works the night shift to know how rowdy this place can get. Which is why she still can’t believe this is where her parents wanted to have their date. Here. Of all places. She sighs, maybe she should have let them just have Killian over for dinner.

“What’s wrong, Love?” Killian asks, nudging her shoulder and leaning down so he can whisper in her ear. She’s sure the volume in this place has something to do with it, but not everything to do with it as the goosebumps rise up on her neck and she feels his lips against her skin. So much for best behaviour.

“Just thinking that I’m definitely going to need a drink if I’m gonna make it through tonight.”

“Aye, you and me both,” he smirks, directing her towards the bar. Emma can’t actually remember the last time she came here for a drink and not for work. It’s weird, people keep looking at her like they’re expecting to get arrested. What’ll they think when the King and Queen walk in?

“Two rums please,” Emma orders and the bartender heads off to get them their drinks.

“Crowded in here, wouldn’t you say?” Killian asks, sliding in closer and wrapping his hooked arm around her so that her back presses into his chest. Cheeky, she thinks. Not that she really has any issue with him finding a reason to press up against her. If her parents weren’t about to walk through that door any minute, she’d roll her hips back against him, just to get him worked up. But they are coming. So she doesn’t.

They’re handed their drinks and toast, to surviving the night, and then throw them back in one shot, ordering a second round. Those are thrown back too. She doesn't intend on getting drunk, just a little loose, enough that she can get through the social awkwardness of dating with her parents - but not so much that she might say or do anything to give herself away.

Killian leans in under the guise of making room for someone squeezing by behind them. Suddenly, his lips are by her ear and she can feel his smile against it, the one he gets when the rum is just starting to warm his blood.

“Killian,” she warns when his lips close around her earlobe, and then start trailing slowly down her neck.

“Hmm?” he hums, playing innocent.

“My parents are going to be here any minute.”

“Indeed,” he speaks against her neck and then continues, unperturbed. “But they aren’t here yet, are they?”

Fine then, if that’s how he wants to play. She pushes back against him, her ass pressing into the front of his jeans and his lips fumble against her skin. He clears his throat and when he speaks again his voice is rougher, a little bit of an edge to it.

“Careful what game you’re playing there, Swan,” he warns. She smirks.

“You started it.” She sees the door open, sees who comes in as they scan the room, looking. Emma grabs her third drink in one hand and then reaches back to brush her fingers against the hardening length pressing against her back. Killian growls. “Mom! Dad!” she calls then, waving them over. The sound Killian makes is priceless. She knows she’ll probably end up paying for it but it’s enough to see him so thrown off his game when she looks over her shoulder.

She steps forward, out of the circle of his arms and into her mom’s embrace. “Hi sweetheart!” Snow says, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Hi Killian,” she says, looking over Emma’s shoulder. Killian coughs awkwardly and raises his glass in greeting. Emma bites back her smile.

David leans in for a hug too and then reaches out to shake Killian’s hand. Emma notices that he keeps the majority of his body behind her as he takes her father’s hand. Maybe she was a little too mean. He really was asking for it though.

After a second, he recovers flawlessly, smiling at her parents with that charm she knows has gotten him through more challenging situations than this one. “So, what will you have?” Killian asks, waving down the bartender.

“Beer for me,” David says, pointedly speaking to the bartender rather than letting Killian order for him. She sees the slight smile on Killian’s face. “Snow?”

“Beer,” she says and four pairs of eyebrows raise.

“Beer?” Emma asks

“I drink beer!” Snow insists. Even David doesn’t look convinced. “It’s a night out! I’m having fun!”

Emma cringes. All she can hear is ‘I’m not like the other moms. I’m a cool mom,’ echoing in her head. Even when she and Mary Margaret were roommates, her mom never drank beer. Wine, yes, sometimes even hard liquor if the situation called for it. But never beer. But then again, her mom did just have a baby. Maybe she’s trying to take it easy.

“Okay then,” Emma says. “Make it four. She throws back her last drink. This night is already off to an interesting start.

David suggests they find a table and they manage to trudge their way through the crowd towards a small booth in the back of the room. Emma’s pretty sure that booth had been occupied a second ago. She doesn’t know whose presence led to it being vacated: the royals, the sheriffs or the pirate. What a freaking weird bunch they are tonight.

They squeeze into the booth, she and Killian on one side and her parents on the other and then… nothing. An awkward, long, heavy silence hangs between them, the kind of silence that’s always dreaded when it comes to new social interactions. Twice Mary Margaret opens her mouth and Emma hopes she’ll say something but both times she closes it with a frown. David keeps alternating between clearing his throat and taking sips of his beer. What is going on? They’ve all spent time together before, they’ve all spoken to one another… but that was usually about a crisis… now with no crisis there’s just… quiet. She hates it.

The TV switches to a hockey game and David perks up. “Oh, this should be a good one,” he says and Emma realises those are the first words that have been spoken in five minutes. Mary Margaret nudges him in a not so discreet way and he looks at Killian and Emma. “Do, uh, do you like hockey?” he asks Killian lamely.

Killian scratches at a spot behind his ear. “Alas, I’m not familiar with it. I don’t know the rules.”

“Oh,” is all David says.

Before the next silence can last too long Mary Margaret speaks. “So, Killian, how are things going with Belle?” she asks with a smile. “Have you made any progress?”

“Very little,” he sighs. “We keep getting stuck with translations. Those magic boxes can do much but they can’t decipher the spells.”

“That’s too bad,” Snow says and Killian agrees. Another silence follows as they all nurse their drinks and half-watch the game.

Emma startles suddenly when she feels Killian’s hook on her knee. His hand is around his glass, perfectly proper, but his hook is starting a slow climb. She kicks at his foot, trying to ignore the sparks shooting along her skin. He is not actually going to try this with her parents sitting right in front of them. He hides his smile in his drink. Her parents remain unaware and Killian grows more daring until suddenly Emma is distracted from trying to bury her fingernails into her palm by her dad speaking to Killian again.

“What games do you know?” he asks. Emma smiles a little. She can tell he’s really trying.

“Few from this world,” Killian admits, his hook has stopped it’s journey for now but it’s still on her thigh. “There was little opportunity for sport on the sea but I fancy myself quite good at cards and dice. And of course swordplay and shooting.”

David actually smiles. “I miss a good sword fight for the sport of it,” he says. Snow catches Emma’s eye and gives her a little grin, clearly thrilled that they’ve found something to talk about.

“Perhaps we ought to have one someday,” Killian suggests and Emma tries not to laugh at the idea of two of the most competitive people she’s ever met sword fighting ‘for fun’. She can see the concern on her mom’s brow too. “Actually,” he says, looking over at the dart board. “I’ve quite taken to darts.”

“Really?” David perks up. “Why don’t we play?” He asks, looking excitedly at the three of them.

Killian looks at Emma and she shrugs. “Sure, why not? I’m a little rusty though.”

“Then we’ll just have to get you loosened back up won’t we?” Killian teases with a smile that’s way too suggestive for present company.

He’s really enjoying this isn’t he? She shakes her head at him and his brows waggle. Her dad is looking at them with a little less enjoyment but also like he doesn’t have the ground to stand on to protest anything. She remembers the way Killian had teased David when he picked her up for their first date and she wonders exactly how far he’s going to push this. Well, he wouldn’t be a pirate if he didn’t crave a little danger, would he?

They wait for the current game to end and then head over to claim the board. Emma can’t help but notice the way her dad’s eyes shift when Killian wraps an arm around her shoulders as they walk, keeping it there as David grabs the darts. He looks at them.

“Do you want to go first?” he offers, pointedly looking at Killian’s arm.

“I’m fine,” he waves him off. David clenches his jaw and Emma raises a brow at him. Apparently his overprotective dad mode has been initiated. And Killian’s hook is in a much more respectable place now than it was a few minutes ago. David turns to throw his first dart and Emma looks up at Killian, flashing him that same raised eyebrow.

“Be nice,” she tells him.

“I’m always nice,” he smirks.

“No, you’re trying to give my dad an aneurysm with your PDA.”

“I don’t know what either of those things mean but I’m certain your father can handle his daughter being shown a bit of affection.” He’s at least keeping his voice low.

She shrugs. “Your funeral.”

“I can think of no better way to perish than by showering you with my attentions. Well, maybe one.”

She rolls her eyes and he laughs, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. Emma sinks in against his side a little, leaning her head against his shoulder and looping her arms around his waist. It’s nice. The whole sweet, boyfriend-y, little touches and cheek and forehead kisses and stuff. It’s new and she’s not used to it, but she likes it.

David clears his throat and Emma raises her head to see him pointedly holding out the darts for one of them to take. Really? She casts a desperate glance at her mom who is trying and failing to hide her amused smile. But Mary Margaret steps forward and plucks the darts from her husband’s hand. David looks at her like she’s betrayed him.

“I’ll go next,” she announces, actually winking at Emma as she walks by them.

“But shouldn’t one of -”

“Nope!” Snow turns to the dart board and throws three bullseyes in a row without flinching. Killian’s arm falls slightly from Emma’s shoulder as he swallows, eyes going a little wide.

“Woah, Mom,” Emma gapes. Snow shrugs but Emma can see her preening, a little bit of a daze working its way into her smile and she can tell that the drink might be starting to hit her already. That really just makes the bullseyes more impressive. She walks over to David who smiles proudly and kisses her. Oh, so they can show affection but she can’t?

“My turn,” Emma says, giving Killian’s waist a squeeze before heading over to pull the darts out of the board. “Wish me luck!”

She stands at the line and sets herself in the right posture, but before she can throw the dart, Killian’s hand is on her back, his cheek brushing her ear. “Good luck,” he whispers before pressing his lips to her neck. Her dad’s throat clears again. “You feeling alright, Dave?” Killian asks with a smirk. Emma elbows him.

She throws the dart and it misses its mark. Although, she’s pretty sure that it has more to do with the pirate whose lips are curling against her ear than with her actual skill.

“You need to adjust your form, Love,” he tells her, finding an excuse to wrap his hand around her hip and pull her back a little against him. David coughs again and she swears Killian’s face is going to split if he smirks any wider. “You should really get that checked out, mate,” he says. Killian actually does adjust her form, pulling her hip back and lining her shoulder up more squarely with the board. The next dart hits the bullseye.

“He’s not wrong,” Snow says softly and Emma doesn’t look but she can just picture David seething beside her. The third dart also hits the center and she and Killian both walk over to pull them from the board.

“You need to behave yourself,” Emma whispers to him. He only smiles.

“We’re on a date, Swan. Is this not how people are supposed to behave on dates? It would certainly seem so if the movies your mother recommended are to be trusted.”

“You actually watched those?” she asks, surprised.

“Aye,” he nods. “And those Henry and your father recommended as well. The Widow Lucas showed me how to use the black box in the room I rented.” He looks at her. “What?”

“I’m just surprised I guess.”

He shrugs. “They took the time to share something they enjoyed and hoped I would too. It would feel rude not to.” Emma smiles at him. It’s kind of sweet to see the effort that he’s making to befriend her family - even if he is currently trying to give her dad a heart attack. “Besides, it gives me something to talk to them about.”

She laughs. “We could have used that when we were at the table,” she jests, nudging him with the dull side of the dart. The corner of his lips pull up salaciously.

“I was otherwise engaged.”

“I think you got them all,” David says impatiently and Emma hangs her head, a small laugh escaping her. They make their way back to her parents and Killian takes his turn, hitting two bullseyes. In the end, Snow destroys them all and while he’s proud of her, David still shakes his head and laughs.

“Well,” he says, hands on his hips. “My ego is thoroughly bruised.” Snow smiles at him and pats his chest placatingly. “What do you say we try another game? Maybe pool?”

Killian agrees and she and her mom shrug. Why not? It’s better than sitting in awkward silence back at the table.

“I must say, Your Majesty, I could have used someone with your aim back on my ship. Not only in scuffles but it’s always good to have a shark when gambling and sailors often make the mistake of underestimating a woman.”

“Men, you mean,” Snow quips and Killian laughs.

“Aye.”

“But we know better don’t we?” David chimes in. “I only needed to learn that lesson once,” he laughs, rubbing at the scar on his chin.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Killian smiles, his arm snaking its way across Emma’s shoulders again. David looks surprised.

“What do you mean?”

“Did your wife not tell you?” Killian asks, then looks at Emma. “Did you not tell him?” She shakes her head. “When Emma and I first met, when we were fighting to get here from the Enchanted Forest, Emma knocked me out with a rather impressive blow to the jaw.” He rubs at his chin.

“Aw, sorry, babe,” Emma says, rising up on her toes to kiss the spot where she hit him so long ago. He had it coming back then, but she feels a little bad about it now.

“You did?” David demands, looking at her with some kind of fatherly pride she’s still getting used to. She doesn’t fail to notice that he doesn’t seem quite as scandalized by her kissing a man in front of him as she expected. She nods. “Huh,” is all he says.

“Like mother, like daughter, I suppose,” Killian ventures. David actually laughs.

“Yeah, I guess so!” He looks at Emma. “Good for you,” he says before casting a slightly guilty look at Killian. “No offence.”

Killian shrugs it off. “None taken. I was… different back then.” He looks a little ashamed and David nods.

“Yeah,” he agrees and Killian’s shoulders straighten. Emma squeezes at his waist, trying to sooth him, but she doesn’t need to when David speaks again. “But you’re not that person anymore.”

Emma doesn’t know who is more shocked, Killian, her mother, or herself. Killian coughs, scratches behind his ear. He’s trying to play it cool but she can tell how much even this small acknowledgement from her dad of how much he’s changed affects him.

“Right,” he says finally. “Shall we play some billiards?” David nods and Emma starts to follow them but Snow stops her.

“Why don’t you boys play,” she suggests. “Emma and I will go get another round.”

“You don’t want to play?” Emma asks, frowning. She knows her mom has a competitive streak. Snow shrugs.

“Pool isn’t my strong suit,” she says. “And I think I’d like to go out on a victory.” David checks once more that she’s sure she doesn’t want to play and she assures him she doesn’t. Emma’s pretty sure that her dad receives the same hint that she’s getting: Snow wants him and Killian to spend some time alone together, she’s giving him his chance to talk. Emma’s weary but she’s also getting the sense that her mom is also trying to lure her into some kind of weird mother-daughter talk under the guise of getting drinks.

They push their way through the crowd - Emma swears it’s even more packed now than it was when they first got here - and make it to the bar. It takes them a while to get the lone bartender's attention and Mary Margaret takes that time to look back at where the guys are playing pool.

Emma looks over her shoulder. She can’t help but laugh. They both have the same cocky swagger to their mannerisms, showing off with every shot. She can’t hear what they’re saying but she’s certain there’s a little trash talk going on. It looks like Killian is winning though, if the smile on his face and the frown on David’s is anything to go by. David says something that makes Killian laugh and David raises an eyebrow as he leans over the table to take his shot. She’d never noticed that little quirk of her dad’s.

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Snow comments and Emma turns back to her.

“What?”

Snow nods towards the guys again. “I just think you might have gotten your taste in men from me,” she smirks.

“What? Ew,” Emma says but then she looks over at them and oh my god. “Oh my god!” she says. “Oh, gross.”

“It’s not gross!” Snow laughs. “Your father is confident and kind and supportive - and so is Killian. And he looks at you like you hung the stars - that’s an addictive feeling, believe me, I know. But it’s not a bad thing,” she says quickly and Emma realises her panic must be evident on her face.

Things are going well with Killian. She likes him. A lot. More than she’s liked anyone in a long time but… he traded his ship for her, his home, and to hear Snow tell her that he looks at her the way her father looks at her mother.. they’re true love and well, it’s a lot. And it’s a little scary.

“I know it’s not,” she admits. “It’s just -”

“Intense?” Snow asks with a smile.

Emma laughs a bit. “Yeah.” Her mom nods. “Intense is the right word. Killian is really kind of all or nothing and all in and I like it but it’s… a lot.”

“Just give it time,” she says, reaching out to stroke her back gently. “I have to say, as your mother, it’s nice to know that you’re lo-” she cuts herself off. “That you’re cared about so much.” Snow has a small dreamy smile curling her lips and Emma asks her what else she’s thinking. She shrugs. “Your dad is like that too. All or nothing. Like I said, the apple doesn’t fall far…”

Emma raises an eyebrow, biting back her smirk. “Yeah, well, I never slept with Whale so…”

Snow bursts out laughing and actually smacks her arm and Emma starts laughing too. For a moment, it feels like before the curse broke, back when Snow wasn’t her mom but just Mary Margaret, her friend, her roommate. She misses that sometimes. She’s happy she has her parents, that she finally found them, but sometimes she misses her best friend.

Emma manages to get the bartender’s attention and orders their drinks. “So,” Snow asks as they wait for their order. “How are things going?” She’s still got that lighthearted, slightly coy smile on her face that reminds Emma of simpler times and so she answers honestly, speaking to her friend rather than her mother.

“It’s going… it’s going really well actually.” Snow’s smile is going to split her face. She nudges her with her elbow.

“Tell me!”

“I dunno. He’s sweet, like really sweet. With me but also with Henry and I guess I never realised how much fun he is to be around. He’s always teasing and playing around and he’s got all these great stories and these little quirks that I didn’t know about. And he asks me about myself and he just listens - like, actually listens.”

She looks over at where Killian’s playing pool. He catches her eye, raises a brow. “And it doesn’t hurt that he looks like a freaking Calvin Klein model. And oh my god the s-” She stops. Suddenly remembering who she’s talking to. Snow doesn’t look phased, only smirking at her a little wickedly and Emma wonders if she’s feeling the same nostalgia she is or if it’s just the one beer already hitting her.

“You’re blushing,” she teases.

“I am not!” Emma insists.

“Hey, I don’t blame you. He is very hot.”

“Mom!”

“What? I’m married. I’m not blind.”

Emma only gapes at her in disbelief as Mary Margaret shrugs dismissively and grabs the four bottles when they’re set down in front of them. The bartender also sets down a bottle of rum giving her a smile.

“On the house,” he says. “You being here has people on their best behaviours. I haven’t had to throw someone out all night.”

“Is this a bribe?” Emma asks with a raised brow.

“Absolutely,” the man says and Emma laughs, accepting the bottle and the glasses but throwing in a large enough tip that she doesn’t feel like she’s committing a felony. When they reach the pool table, there’s some sort of heated argument going on.

“I’m just saying, when I win, I want to win fairly,” David says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Killian insists.

“What’s going on?” Emma interrupts.

“Killian is cheating.”

“I’m not cheating! I’m offended you would even suggest it.”

“Why do you think he’s cheating?” Emma asks, feeling protective of Killian but also fully aware that him cheating is absolutely a possibility.

“Because five minutes ago he was sinking everything and then I missed a few in a row and suddenly he hasn’t managed to sink a single ball.”

Emma bites back her laugh. “You think he’s cheating to let you win?” Emma looks at Killian, sees the smirk on his face. Oh my god, he’s cheating to let David win.

“Emma,” David says. “Please tell your boyfriend that I can win on my own, thank you very much, and that this isn’t going to earn him brownie points with your dad.”

Killian laughs but he reaches out and grabs hold of her hand, squeezing it when her dad refers to him casually as her boyfriend. She brings his hand up to her lips and presses them against his knuckles. His eyes widen slightly in surprise while her father rolls his. She wonders at his surprise. Maybe she’s not the best at showing affection. Maybe she should work on that.

She steps forward into his embrace and he wraps his hooked arm around her as he reaches for his cue that’s leaning against the table. She presses herself against him and puts her hand on his chest. There’s still that bit of surprise on his face but his smile tells her it’s the good kind.

“Killian,” she says seriously, tilting her head up to look at him.

“Yes, Love?”

“Stop letting my dad win,” she smiles. He laughs, nods, but leans down quickly to kiss her, brief enough that David can’t really complain. It doesn’t stop him from frowning though.

“Alright then, Dave,” Killian says when Emma walks back over to her lean against the wall with her mom. “Let’s have a real game shall we?”

The game gets pretty close, by the end it comes down to David having only the eight ball left and Killian having one of his own to sink. David misses the shot and they debate the rules as to whether Killian wins by default or if they keep playing. David insists that he’s lost and that that’s better for Killian since he’d still have two balls to sink to win. Killian insists that he loves a challenge and wants them to continue.

Snow rolls her eyes and shoots Emma a knowing look. Shit, they really are alike. She’s trying not to be grossed out by that. In the end, Killian sinks both his ball and the eight and wins the game, but in a way that David can respect and he offers him his hand to shake, insisting that they’ll have to have a rematch sometime. Killian’s smile at the offer and the way his cheeks go a little red warm her heart.

“How did you get so good at this?” David asks. “They didn’t have this game in the Enchanted Forest. Do you and Emma play a lot when you come here?”

Killian shoots her a smirk and she glares at him. “No, we usually enjoy ourselves in other ways when we spend an evening together.” He’s really pushing it, she thinks. But as far as her dad knows they hang out here on their nights together so hopefully he thinks that Killian just means they play other games, and not that Killian spends most of his nights with his head between her legs, playing in a whole different way.

“It was Belle, actually,” he adds before David or Snow can put any pieces together. “She’s quite the shark and sometimes we play to blow off steam when the research gets to be too much. She taught me a trick or two. There are quite a few games she’s taught me that we didn’t have in our realm. I must say this world has a certain advantage when it comes to entertainment.”

“Yeah,” Snow says. “I have to say I’d miss reality TV and the Food Network if we ever went back.”

“And video games,” David adds. “And ESPN.”

“Look, the Enchanted Forest lost me at no indoor plumbing,” Emma chimes in and there’s a shared laugh of agreement.

“I do miss some things,” Snow admits. “Like royal balls. There’s nothing here quite like the dances we used to have at the castle.”

“I miss riding horses,” David says. “Cars are great, but you can’t bond with a car. What about you, Hook? Do you miss anything from your old life?” Emma tenses, almost worried about his answer. He gave up his home for her, she reminds herself. But that doesn’t mean that he’ll never regret it, that he’ll never resent her for it.

“Can’t say that I do,” he shakes his head, reaching for her as though he knows exactly what she’s thinking. He probably does. “Particularly now that I have my ship back. I missed the sea.” He looks at David pointedly then, his fingers tightening on her hip and she knows that the message is for her too. “But I have no plans of leaving. I’ve found a call that’s stronger than hers.” He looks at her out of the corner of his eye and she tenses a little, a natural reaction to such an overt admission of feelings, but then lets out the breath she’s holding and smiles at him, lets herself be happy about it. She catches David’s nod of approval. Mary Margaret’s practically swooning.

“I do miss the music, though,” he adds after a moment. “There’s something about the sound of a crew singing under the hot sun while they work, or late at night under the stars that nothing here has managed to live up to. The music in this realm… leaves something to be desired.” Emma bites back her smile, remembering his distaste for most, if not all of the music Henry insists on playing loudly whenever he’s on the Jolly Roger with Killian.

“Although, I will admit that some of the music Emma has shown me is more... palatable.” Emma smirks as David and Snow ask what music he means.

“I showed him classic rock,” she tells them. “I thought with the whole leather and eyeliner and earrings it might be up his alley.” She was honestly shocked when he’d liked it. She’d been showing him a bunch of different genres and he’d made faces at nearly all of them, all but folk - which she expected - and classic rock - which she had not.

David’s eyes go wide but not in shock, in excitement. “And you liked it?” he demands.

“Aye,” Killian answers. “They have melodies that encourage singing along and that feel like they should be sung in groups. It feels nostalgic.” Emma can’t quite make the connection between something like Queen or Led Zeppelin and sea shanties out on the water, but she’s never been there so she assumes it’s more of a feeling thing than a technical thing.

“I love classic rock! I was born in - well, David Nolan was born in - the eighties! I grew up listening to that stuff! At least, I have memories of growing up listening to it, of my mom playing records for me. It’s complicated.”

“Sounds like it,” Killian laughs.

“Don’t they have a jukebox here?” David exclaims, scanning the bar. He clearly spots one because he grabs a very confused Killian’s arm and drags him across the room. Emma looks at her mom who seems equally as surprised before she bursts out laughing. Her dad is acting like a little kid - or like a nerdy dad - and poor Killian is apparently going to be subjected to a hell of a musical education.

Emma grabs the bottle of rum and the glasses and holds them up before she and Mary Margaret head off after the guys. “I think we’re gonna need this,” she jokes. Snow only nods, smiling.

When they reach their significant others, Emma is surprised to find them in a heated conversation, debating the merits of AC/DC versus Aerosmith. Emma can’t even keep track of who prefers who as they speak over one another and take turns - sorta, they kinda push and shove really - filling the jukebox and picking songs.

“Swan,” Killian turns to her for the first time in nearly ten minutes and she looks at him with an arched brow. “Do you have any of those blasted quarter-dollars? My dubloons won’t fit in the bloody machine.”

Emma laughs. “They’re just called quarters and no, I don’t. But I have rum,” she offers as a substitute.

“Aye,” Killian says. “That will help too. Especially if your father is going to continue to insist on playing REO Speedwagon.”

“Hey!” David cries.

Emma and her mom try and coax the guys over to the table nearby but neither of them are willing to step away from the jukebox, both convinced that someone else will choose a terrible song. They also can’t stop suggesting songs and the way David keeps excitedly shouting ‘oh man, yeah I love that one’, and Killian keeps referring to songs as ‘bloody brilliant’ has her pretty sure that she and Mary Margaret have lost them for the night.

So, she fills her and her mom’s glasses and they head to the table that is literally less than six feet away, leaving the bottle and the two other glasses for David and Killian. The women sip their drinks, watching in amazement as the two grown men continue speaking so fast she can’t keep up with what they’re saying and bouncing on the balls of their feet.

Emma loses track of what happens really after that, David and Killian become a bit of an entertaining blur, both of them laughing and talking and drinking rum - they’re really drinking quite a bit, she realises at one point - and singing along. That’s right. The two of them are belting out classic rock songs, drawing annoyed and weary looks from everyone else in the room. But what can they do? It’s the king/sheriff and a freaking pirate. Who's going to stand up to that?

“At least they’re getting along,” Snow comments, wincing as David and Killian butcher a song she can’t recognize - probably because they have the words wrong.

“Of all the things that I thought might bring them together, I never thought it would be this.” Emma shakes her head. “Do you really think -” she starts but then feels silly for asking. Snow gives her an encouraging look. “Do you think dad likes him?”

It shouldn’t matter. She’s a grown woman and she can be with whoever she wants to be with. She’s never needed anybody's permission or approval and she doesn’t need it now. But just because she doesn’t need it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want it.

“I think,” Mary Margaret starts, choosing her words carefully. “I think that were it any other situation, if Killian wasn’t the man dating his daughter, he and your father might be best friends. I think he does like him, but he’s trying not to like him too much because he’s stubborn and overprotective and he feels like he needs to be on your side.”

“There aren’t any sides,” Emma says. “We’re together. We make a good team.”

“I see that. And your dad is starting too also. You just need to give him some time. But I think that they’re making some serious strides if tonight is anything to go by.” She winces again as David fails to hit a particularly high note that should be reserved for only Freddy Mercury. But he laughs as Killian pours him another drink, clinking his glass against the other man’s.

“And you?” Emma asks hesitantly. “Do you like him?” She’s never thought to ask. Her dad has always made his opinion clear. Mary Margaret is different though. She plays things closer to the chest. She’s never really worried about her opinion of Killian until now, now that she realises she doesn’t know what it is.

Snow smiles. “I do,” she says, placing her hand over Emma’s reassuringly. “I didn’t always, but even when we first met him I could tell there was something going on between you. It scared me back then because of who he was. But he’s changed, become someone better, someone who might actually deserve you.” Emma opens her mouth to protest, to defend Killian but her mom stops her. “I just mean that I have trouble believing that anyone deserves you. But the way he looks at you, and the way he supports you and encourages you. Yeah, I like him.”

Emma smiles, looking down to hide the effect of her mom’s words, which she’s sure are written all over her face. “Good.”

"Emma," Killian says, suddenly right beside her. She turns to find him looking down at her, hand out and a slightly dazed, happy smile on his lips. "Dance with me." His eyes are heavy-lidded and there's the slightest sway to his stance. She bites her lip. He's drunk.

She notices David there too now, having more trouble standing upright than Killian is, but still pulling Mary Margaret to her feet. "It's no royal ball," he says. "But will it do for now?"

She doesn’t hear what her mom answers. She’s too distracted by the arched eyebrow and upturned lip that’s just shy of Killian’s usual swagger, slightly softened by his current state. But he looks so sweet and she remembers dancing with him at the ball in the Enchanted Forest and thinks it might be nice to do it again without the threat of never being born looming over her.

She puts her hand in his and he gives her a goofy grin, pulling her up and wrapping his arm around her, holding his hook out for her to take hold of. Oh right, he waltzes, she nearly laughs. He leads her to the little space between the seats and the jukebox, they’re in their own little corner here, away from the rest of the crowded bar, some eighties balad blasting through the speakers. Emma swears she sees David shoot him a thumbs up over Mary Margaret’s shoulder.

She knows it’s probably not proper dancing form but she lets her fingers slide from his shoulder up to the nape of his neck so she can play with the ends of his hair. He leans into her touch. She’s impressed when he actually attempts to lead them through the steps she can barely remember. He’s honestly not too bad at it, less graceful than he’d been last time but, considering the nearly empty bottle of rum, she gives him credit for standing right now.

He stumbles over his own feet eventually and chuckles softly, lightheartedly, and it’s nice to hear. “I fear I might not be quite up to the task at the moment,” he says, shaking his head. She laughs with him.

“That’s okay,” she tells him, pulling his hook around her so it can join his hand at her back. She slides her other hand up around his neck. “Why don’t I teach you how we dance here this time?” She steps into him, pressing her chest to his, and starts to sway.

His arms tighten, pulling her in closer. “So many wonderful things about this realm,” he starts, laying his forehead against hers. “But this might be my favorite yet.” She laughs a little, the slightly mumbled way his words come out betraying him again. She’ll tease him tomorrow. But right now he’s soft and warm and happy and he smells so nice, so she lays her head on his shoulder and dances with him in a dingy bar with her parents right next to her. It should be weird. But it’s not. It feels right. Probably because it’s him. No, definitely because it’s him.

Killian’s hand moves over her back, playing with her hair as he turns his head to nuzzle against the back of her neck. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t even mean anything by it when his fingers trail down her spine and settle on her backside. She’s not surprised, she’s well aware that he’s a fan of that part of her, and he’s still swaying with her gently. She is surprised that her dad isn’t causing a scene over it though.

She peeks over Killian’s shoulder and really wishes she hadn’t. Her dad isn’t saying anything because he didn’t notice, because he’s too busy making out with her mom, who is giggling and playfully swatting at his wandering hands. Oh god. She’s gonna be sick.

She makes a sound and Killian’s head pops up, follows her gaze behind him and a shit-eating grin spreads across his face. She glares at him.

“I cannot believe you got my dad drunk,” she hisses.

“I did not get your father drunk! He got me drunk!” Emma rolls her eyes and he smiles even wider. “I think I’m winning him over,” he winks. “And I think he would make a good drinking buddy.” Emma pulls back to look at him, her brows shooting up to her hairline.

“Where did you even learn that term?”

He just smiles. His hand gives her ass a squeeze - definitely intentional this time - as he pulls her in closer, pressing her hips to his as he runs his nose and then his lips along her jaw. Her heart rate picks up, it’s automatic at this point, her skin prickling everywhere it’s touching his, but she tilts her head away, enjoying the very put-out and slightly confused expression on his face.

“I am not making out with you next to my parents.” She looks over at them again, grimaces. “Even if they seem to have no problem making out in front of their daughter.”

Killian takes her chin between his thumb and finger, drawing her eyes back to his as he leans in, his lips a breath away from hers as he speaks, that wicked grin coming back. “Actually, Swan, I had quite a bit more in mind…” he trails off. Emma swallows.

“Then maybe it’s time we get out of here,” she suggests. And he nods so enthusiastically it makes her laugh.

“That’s a brilliant idea,” he tells her. “I always said you were brilliant.”

She turns them so that she can look over at her mom without having to leave his arms because she really doesn’t want to at the moment - and maybe she wants to save him the awkwardness of hiding the growing hardness she can feel against her stomach. Thankfully, her parents have stopped making out and are now just gazing dreamily into each other's eyes. That might be worse, really.

“I think we should get these two home,” she says and Snow looks over at her, confused at first but then nods, laughing as she takes in the state of their dates.

“Goodnight, Lady Snow,” Killian says. “Until next time, mate,” he says to David. Emma holds her breath but to her surprise, David smiles, reaching out to give Killian one of those weird, bro-ey handshakes where they just kinda clasp hands like they’re going to arm wrestle. David turns to Mary Margaret then.

“One more song,” he insists. “I picked the next one.”

“Okay, one more song,” she agrees, patting his cheek.

“Goodnight, Mom. ‘Night, Dad,” she says as she turns in Killian’s embrace to head out. He practically presses himself against the back of her as he follows.

“Night, sweetheart,” David says. “This was fun,” he adds - slurs.

Emma smiles. “Yeah, it was.” She waves goodbye to her mom who gives her one of those touched, happy smiles and then she leads Killian out of the bar.

His hand is on her waist the whole way through the crowd, fingers dancing along the edge of her shirt, sneaking under it, hot against her skin. His breath is on her neck and every few steps he leans down to brush his lips against it too.

They’ve barely made it outside before he’s pulling her out of the reach of the lone porch light above the door and pressing her against the wall. His lips fall over hers and his hand slips under her shirt, flattening against her stomach and sliding higher. Emma groans into his mouth, reaching up to grab hold of his hair, pulling him closer. His hips press against hers, pinning her to the wall as his hand finds her breast.

Emma gasps, throwing her head back and he takes the opportunity to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat. She needs to get him back to his ship now. But she also doesn’t have it in her to pull away, not when his hips are rolling against hers in a dirty grind and his fingers are shoving her bra out of the way.

She hikes her leg over his hip and he groans this time, grabbing hold of her thigh with his hook and keeping her there, the blunt curve of it digging into her ass. His mouth finds hers again, open and heady as he drags his tongue over hers, his breathing ragged. Her hands reach down to slip into his back pockets, pulling him harder against her and holy shit she’s definitely debating letting him fuck her against this wall when suddenly -

“Hey! Hands where I can see them, Hook!”

Her father’s voice is like a bucket of ice water being dumped on her. Killian freezes for a moment but doesn’t pull back. His lips curl against hers, his laugh puffing against her skin as he removes his hand from under her shirt and holds it up and out over his head.

“Hand and hook!” David calls again and Killian drops her leg to hold his other arm up as well. He kisses her again though and it’s so ridiculous, him standing there with his arms in the air while his lips and body are pressed to hers, her father threatening him from twenty feet away. She feels like a teenager and it should annoy her but it doesn’t, it makes her laugh. She never got this. She’s not saying she wants this kind of thing to happen all the time but she supposes there are still opportunities for her to get those childhood memories she missed out on.

“Good man,” David says before letting himself be dragged away by Snow. His own hands start to trail a little too low on her mom’s back and Emma shouts at him.

“Hands where I can see them, Dad!” David’s hands shoot straight up, like a perp, and she laughs. This whole thing, this whole night, has been ridiculous.

She slides her hands up across Killian’s back, wraps her arms around him and he kisses her once more, softer this time. “Thank you,” she says when he pulls back, tilting her head up to press her lips to his cheek. He bites his lip, smiling.

“Hmm. Well, perhaps some gratitude is in order…”

“You’ve used that line before,” she teases him.

He sighs. “Swan, your father poured an entire bottle of rum into me, forgive me if I resort to tried and true lines I know will work.”

“Pretty cocky,” she tells him, arching a brow and then regretting it immediately when she realises the opening she just gave him - well, not really regretting it.

He ruts his hips against hers and her breath hitches. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“Actually,” she answers, her voice catching a little. “I have a very good idea. So how about you take me home, sailor?”

“You’re full of good ideas,” he says, leaning in.

“Even date night with my parents?” she jokes and he halts before his lips touch hers, huffing out a laugh.

“Aye, even date night with your parents.” He kisses her softly and smiles sweetly at her. “It wasn’t so bad. I think your father might even be beginning to approve of me.” His grin turns sinful then and his fingers come up to brush over her bottom lip, continuing a trail down her chin to her neck and chest and stomach.

“Although right now,” he starts, brow ticking up at the way her stomach flutters under his touch and her back arches slightly. “I think I’d like to take you back to my ship and do a few things to you that he definitely would not approve of.”

#cs fanfic #cs prompt #anonymous #snowing #snowing fluff #cs smut adjacent #asks

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elizabeethan · 4 years ago

Note

Number 5 & 26 for the kiss prompts pretty please? :)

Angry Kiss and Jealous Kiss???? Okey dokey!

You might be able to guess what universe this belongs to (but I’m not going to tell you.) I’m not sure if I’ll ever write the full story, but it does live in my brain rent free!

This is rated a very soft M, maybe even a T...

The door to their chambers closes with more force than she means it to, Emma flinching slightly before storming towards the bed they share. “Please tell me you aren’t actually jealous right now,” she begs, rolling her eyes as he starts removing his coat with more aggression than necessary.

With a scoff and a roll to his eyes, he says, “why on earth would I be jealous? Just because my fiancé was flirting with a King?”

“Flirting!” she cries, standing from the mattress and slapping her hand across his shoulder lightly. “You’re an idiot. When a King asks you to dance with him at his ball, you say yes.”

“So it was out of obligation, then,” he says, nodding his head although not seeming altogether convinced.

“Yes.”

“And the blushing and the giggling? I’m sure that was obligatory as well?”

She juts her jaw out and shakes her head in disbelief, letting out a chastising laugh. “Giggling,” she nods as she bites her bottom lip through a sarcastic, disbelieving smile.

His eyes are dark, stormy as they become shadowed by his thick and expressive brows. He glowers at her, taking a step closer and possessively placing her between his firm body and the stone wall behind her. “I know what I saw,” he growls.

“You’re wrong,” she insists dangerously, knowing what game he’s playing and that his anger and jealousy would never get in the way of the love he has for her.

He fuses his mouth to hers in a hot, angry kiss that leaves her instantly breathless. Her fingers find their way to his hair immediately, but they’re only allowed to stay there for a second before his hook presses her wrists into the wall above her head and he starts trailing his lips down the column of her neck.

Biting her collarbone, he murmurs against her skin, “you’re mine.” She lets out a gasp as he releases her wrists and undoes the laces of her corset with minimal effort, hastily sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth once he has access. “Not his. Mine.”

It should be rather obvious by now that she’s his. They’re engaged to be married, at her suggestion, and are raising a family together. His jealousy seems to have come out of left field, but if it drives him to devour her like this, she won’t argue. She’ll simply appease his possessive nature and confirm, “yours. Always.”

They make love intensely, chasing their highs together after the pointless and heated argument they had over just about nothing. When they’ve finally caught their breath, he traces soothing patterns across her skin and kisses the tip of her nose tenderly. “Sorry, love,” he whispers into the room, lit with only the soft glow of a lantern. “Not sure what came over me.”

With a soft, gentle smile, she replies, “you’re just a bit territorial, that’s all. It’s pretty hot.”

“Aye?” he asks with a wiggle to his brows.

She hums and laughs lightly. “You want to know why I was giggling?”

“Ah, so you admit that you were?”

Rolling her eyes, she slaps his shoulder again, more playfully this time. “He congratulated me on my beautiful family. Told me how heartwarming it was to see a father dancing with his daughter the way you were.”

A blush heats his face now, matching the one that lit Emma’s earlier in the evening during the lavish ball. “Ah…” he says, clearly embarrassed.

“He wished us luck with our growing family,” she whispered, feeling his hand press gently across the expanse of her growing belly.

“I suppose that’s rather polite of him,” he remarks, drawing a snort from Emma. “How did he know?”

She shrugs. “He says I’m glowing.”

“Of course you are, my love,” he confirms, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her bump.

#I know I know #me? writing the same plot over and over again? preposterous #but alas #kiss prompts #cs ff #ask #klynn stormz #cs smut adjacent #possessive!killian #cs drabbles #cs drabble

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ilovemesomekillianjones · 3 years ago

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Sucktember 2022

Day 11: Lollipops

For the prompts from @suck-tember

Summary: Killian watches Emma eat lollipops.

A/N: These are unbetaed simply because September started out of nowhere. 😅

This is ridiculous and I’m not sorry. 😆

Rated: light M? (but overall these prompt fics are Rated E); Words: 448; AO3

——

She was teasing him.

He knew she was.

Emma sat at her desk in the sheriff’s office all day, eating lollipop after lollipop.

No.

Not simply eating.

She was practically making love to them with her mouth. How fitting it was that Blowpops seemed to be her favorite, the perfect size for her to casually suck.

And all Killian could do was watch from his own desk as she touched the sweets to her tongue and licked oh so slowly. He knew she caught him staring as the corners of her lips pulled upward into a smirk, and she met his gaze as she fucking moaned when she finally exposed the gooey treat surrounding the stick in the middle of the candy.

But when she pulled out a long, twisted rainbow lollipop and took the entire thing into her mouth before sucking and dragging it down her tongue with one of the most erotic sounds he’d ever heard her make, that was too much for him.

Killian crossed the room, carrying a file with him. Dropping the folder on her desk, he settled his hand on the back of her chair and leaned in closely over her shoulder.

“I think it’s about time for our lunch break, don’t you?” he growled low, his lips lightly brushing against her ear. “You’ve quite a way of working up my appetite.” He popped the “t” and smirked as Emma shifted in her seat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered coyly, locking eyes with him as she took the long lollipop fully into her mouth again and swallowed carefully around it.

“Bloody hell, Swan.” Killian gritted, clenching his fist at his side as he tried to stave off his already obvious arousal.

Emma’s gaze flicked down to catch a glimpse of the prominent tent in his leathers, and Killian’s jaw ticked as she licked her lips.

“I suppose I could use a little salt to go with all this sugar.” She stood and stepped incredibly close to him, her body merely a hair’s breadth away from touching his. “Got something else for me to suck, Jones?” she purred, her brow raised in challenge.

“If you think we can cut ourselves off after only thirty minutes.”

“Mmmm, if not, I’ll just have to keep you on the edge til we get out of here.”

Killian hissed as Emma palmed him through his leathers, his upper lip twitching at her small laugh.

“Can you handle being quiet enough?” she taunted.

“Can you?” He pressed his leg to the apex of her thighs, and Emma rocked into it with a satisfied sigh.

“Only one way to find out. Thirty minutes.”

“Let’s go.”

——

Tag list ❤️: @anmylica @anothersworld @batana54 @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @karlyfr13s @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @laschatzi @mischievousgraxaim @motherkatereloyshipper @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @sotangledupinit @stahlop @teamhook @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @tintedfl0wers @ultraluckycatnd @undercaffinatednightmare @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @whimsicallyenchantedrose @xhookswenchx @xsajx @zaharadessert

#sucktember #captain swan #cs ff #CS smut adjacent #cs fic rec

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csstorybook · 8 years ago

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Calling All CS Authors, Illustrators and Edit Makers!

It’s heeeeeeere! Planning for the second edition of the Captain Swan Storybook is well underway. Last summer, @flslp87 and @whimsicallyenchantedrose compiled and published the Captain Swan Storybook (you can find it here, if you missed it). 30 authors and 8 artists from the CS fandom contributed stories and drawings and edits in order to make Emma Swan and Killian Jones their own, personal storybook.

This summer we want to create a second storybook, this one complete with their entire journey through season 6. What better way to honor our favorite fictional couple and keep their stories alive than to memorialize them in book?

What it is

--This year, we plan to make the storybook canon adjacent. We hope to publish a book that outlines the Savior’s and the Pirate’s story from the start all the way to the happy beginning.

--All stories submitted should be deleted scenes (canon compliant scenes that could have happened “off screen”) or canon divergent scenes.

--The stories will be arranged in chronological order of episode, starting with 2x5.

--We will be taking one story per episode, so if there is an episode you really want to write for, contact us soon before your episode is taken!

Rules

--We’ll begin with one story per author. After the initial sign up period, if there are key episodes still missing, we’ll open it up to our authors to take on a second story.

--We’ll accept stories on a first-come, first served basis.

--Stories should be 6k words or less.

--Please provide a rating for your story. We will accept stories with any rating, but please be sure to label any M-rated stories so that those uncomfortable with smut have the proper warning.

How to be a part of the CS Storybook, part II

--Send an ask or private message to either @csstorybook or @whimsicallyenchantedrose requesting an episode for which you would like to write your story.

--If your episode has already been claimed we’ll give you an opportunity to choose another one, so it would be a good idea to have two or three episodes in mind when you send in your ask.

--The deadline for submitting your story ideas and claiming an episode is June 4. (Obviously, the earlier you send in your ask, the more likely you are to get your first choice of episodes!)

--Completed stories should be submitted to @flslp87 no later than August 1.

Artists and edit makers

--We would love for you to be a part of our storybook! No OUAT storybook is complete without illustrations!

--If you would be interested in providing the illustration for one or more of the stories, please send an ask or message to @csstorybook or @whimsicallyenchantedrose, and we’ll help pair you up with an author!

Tagging last year’s contributors as well as a few others who have expressed interest: @afairytaleprincess @amagicalship @allyourdarlingswans @blowmiakisscolin @bromfieldhall @captainswanluver @charmingturkeysandwich @cocohook38 @dani-ellie03 @duathadun @flipperbrain @flslp87 @gusenitsaa @happinessisblooming @hopeandbeans @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b @captainstudmuffin @ilovemesomekillianjones @itwastruelove @laschatzi @lizzyc807shipscaptainswan @mahstatins @marajade4s @marvel-lous-captainswan @mryddinwilt @msstarlight @nowforruin @revanmeetra87 @scribblecat27birthdaybash @seethelovelyintheworld@singingisfun @snowbellewells @startswithhope @tennant-the-tigger @the-reason-to-sail-home @thegirlwhowaited82 @thegladelf @thesschesthair @totheendoftheworldortime @whimsicallyenchantedrose @captain-swan-coffee @pocket-anon

#cs storybook 2nd edition #cs ff #cs fandom collaboration projects

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kmomof4 · 4 years ago

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NIIIIIIIIICE way to wake up!!!

The room deathly quiet around them as they stood embraced, locked in a slow exploration; their kiss deepening.

She was consumed. The taste of him; his tender, warm lips, soft tongue, the solid security of his arms tight around her, each building a desire within that had been growing for too long.

His palms slid under her shirt and scorched a path along her back; the feeling of skin upon skin awoke a primal urge within her.

Her hands took over, clutching and fighting the buttons on his shirt, aware of each sensation the feel of the fabric danced along her fingertips, teasing her and creating an impatience- a need to feel the bare skin that hid beneath.

Their dance escalated from gentle to rapid; lust taking over and fighting to be consumed. Hungry for each other.

They'd been starved too long.

#well good morning #cs smut adjacent #mandy ftw

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caught-in-the-filter · 4 years ago

Note

This is my prompt:

😏😏😏

Thanks for the prompt! I hope you like it! 😁😘

——

Emma sighed with a smile against Killian’s lips as he bent her backwards over the arm of their couch, following her descent as he devoured her mouth with his and pressed their chests flush together. He straddled her leg, his knees digging into the cushions as his thigh moved against where she wanted him most. As his necklace dangled above her throat and brushed her chin while they drank in as much of each other as they could, the tip of his hook slipped beneath the hem of her red leather jacket and dragged along her skin, sending a dangerous chill coursing through her body.

Emma’s hands frantically grasped for something to hold. Gripping his lapel only long enough to encourage him to deepen the kiss with a hungry tilt of his head, she scrambled to instead find purchase on his ass, her finger tucking under his belt loop so she could pull him that much closer. He groaned when she pulled his bottom lip between her teeth, and he returned the favor with the additional introduction of his explorative tongue.

A subtle movement caught their attention, and they froze, holding their breaths as they reluctantly turned toward the glass gently wobbling on the coffee table. After a moment, the shaking seemed to settle. Their eyes met again as they both released a deep exhale.

“Bloody creaky floors,” Killian joked with a smirk, and Emma pulled him into another kiss, intent on continuing their activities.

They concluded that the motion was caused by their own and paid it no mind. If it were anything else, well, it would just have to wait.

——

Do I put tag lists on mini-fics? Idk. I’m gonna add it ❤️: @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @teamhook @thejollyroger-writer @xsajx @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert

Send me smutty CS prompts for a mini-fic

#elizabeethan #captain swan #CS ff #CS smut #smut adjacent #Kayla answers #Kayla writes #my writing #approx 273 words

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shireness-says · 6 years ago

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CS JJ Day 22: The Queen’s Librarian

Summary: As the palace librarian under Queen Emma's rule, former Lieutenant Killian Jones gains a reputation for knowing not just what books his monarch wants, but those she needs. Perhaps when all is said and done, she'll need the man himself as well. ~ 11.6K. Rated M for smut-adjacent stuff and language. Also on AO3.

A/N: Here it is - my contribution to @csjanuaryjoy 2019! I had a lot of fun playing with this idea - librarian!Killian is a real weakness for me - so I hope you enjoy it too. Fun fact: Belle and Liam’s kids in this fic are named after children’s book characters, because that’s the kind of thing I think is funny.

Special thanks to @snidgetsafan for her beta services. Thanks for brainstorming the last half of this with me, babe!

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

His nieces and nephew cry when they’re told Uncle Killy is going to work in the palace.

“But Uncle Killy, the Queen is mean!” his older niece, Sylvie, tries to tell him, like that explains everything. Killian understands where she’s coming from; Sylvie may not truly remember what life was like before young Queen Emma, but she’s heard tales of festivals and peace and a Queen and King who were regularly found mingling with their subjects. At only 2, 4 and a half, and 6, all the little ones know is that there’s a tension in their world now, a current of fear everyone is aware of even if they’re not yet acknowledging it. It doesn’t help that the new Queen is the reason their Papa is gone, off on his ship serving Misthaven in their war against King Arthur and Camelot.

Killian, however, is a quite a bit older than the kids, and can vividly remember the years in which Queen Emma’s parents ruled. Queen Snow and King David had been benevolent rulers, the kind of monarchs you felt cared deeply for each and every one of their subjects. The then-Princess Emma had never displayed the same optimistic exuberance her parents had - Killian always remembers her looking like she’d rather be anywhere else than waving in various public functions. Still, he had never gotten the impression she was unpleasant, but rather that she was impatient, anxious to be doing things instead of just acting as a pretty smiling face to be paraded about. Something about the crane of her neck, or the set of her shoulders. Killian could understand that, on a certain level, that desire to prove oneself. But now, with that opportunity placed firmly in Her Majesty’s hands, there’s no denying that the public persona she displays is of a stiff back and firm jaw, a woman focused on important matters with little time for frivolity.

Killian understands that too; there’s a war on, something her parents hadn’t had to deal with in many years. Sure, they’d maintained an army and navy, like any responsible country - Killian had served in the Royal Navy himself, alongside his brother, before a pirate attack and subsequent medical discharge had left him land-bound and minus his left hand. But they’d been a nation at peace for many years, ever since the ultimate defeat and banishment of the Evil Queen, respected and respectful in their dealings with their neighbors. Unfortunately, when the late Queen and King had died, their shared heart connecting them even in death, the proverbial wolves that had likely always been prowling at the door had pounced, taking advantage of the new Queen’s youth and inexperience as the ideal time to make their aggressive move. King Arthur of Camelot had always been power hungry, fancying himself far more important and deserving than he truly was, but it had still been a shock when mere weeks after Queen Emma had ascended to the throne of Misthaven, he had declared war over some supposed breach of trading agreements. More likely, that was a convenient front for his greedy desire to annex Misthaven’s lands as part of his own kingdom. And so, Misthaven had suddenly been thrown into a conflict it hadn’t anticipated and wasn’t fully ready for.

Killian’s brother had been called back to sea with the outbreak of conflict, leaving his little brother to look after his wife and their three children at the specialty bookshop Belle owned. Liam was a career military man, a Captain in the Royal Navy with his own ship and own command, but one who had scaled back considerably upon his marriage and fatherhood. During the peacetime, Liam had been able to ask for shorter assignments, trips where he could serve his monarchs while still being able to return to his family in a matter of a few short weeks - mostly diplomatic assignments, carrying envoys and messages between the nearby kingdoms. But Liam is gone on a semi-permanent basis now, called to defend his country from the sea, back every few months - if they’re lucky - for only a few days at a time for the past two and a half years.

Killian’s injury, that devastating loss of his hand, means he’s unable to serve his country in the traditional way like he might have if he had still been a full-bodied man. Perhaps that’s why he accepts when he’s offered the job as the new palace librarian after the position’s previous holder had retired; despite his inability to fight, Killian still wants to assist the cause, even if this is the only way. It’s not as if this will be a hardship, anyways; quite the contrary. He’d go so far as to call it an honor. He started his second career in bookselling just as a way to help out his sister-in-law and keep himself from going mad with boredom, but he’s found it suits him well. He’d always been a voracious learner, and working in the shop gives him an excuse to read anything that strikes his fancy on the pretense of needing to provide reviews to their customers. The exactitude of the work appeals to him as well, the strict system required to maintain an organized and functional bookseller’s playing well with the ship-shape mentality so fostered in the Navy. He’s even picked up some of the minor binding repairs, though Belle is still better at those; there are certain tasks you really do need two hands for.

Killian knows, in his heart of hearts, that they probably would have preferred Belle for the job; between her pair of hands and her lengthier experience, having grown up in that very shop and taken it over from her father, she’s the better choice. However, she also has her own business, three small children, and a husband away at sea, all things that keep her from being able to accept the job, even had she wanted to. Thus, Killian is the more practical choice, a bachelor more able to switch jobs at will. Belle can always hire more help, and besides, with the on-site housing the position provides, he’ll be able to send money back home to her and the children.

So he reassures his little gaggle that things will be fine, just fine, nothing to worry about, and packs his bags for this new opportunity.

As he approaches the gates, however, he thinks that the kids might have a point. There’s something about the towers and sturdy stonework that, while elegant from afar, seems so intimidating up close, more fortress than grand home. Killian tries to tell himself that he’s just being silly, but it kicks his nerves into high gear. Gods, what has he gotten himself into?

Courage, man, he scolds himself. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

It helps that there’s someone already waiting for him when he gets closer, an older gentleman with a serious face but smiling eyes. He holds his tall frame like a soldier, like someone always waiting for some threat to pop out from around the corner; Killian wonders which branch he’s served with, if he’s still serving or working at the palace in some other capacity.

“Lieutenant Jones?” the man asks, before Killian’s thoughts can run away any further. His voice matches his appearance, somehow; firm and sure, yet not particularly loud. It’s been a while since Killian was referred to by his rank, but there’s something almost comforting about the title. It’s able to snap him out of his nerves and back into the job at hand.

“Aye, sir, that’s me,” he replies smartly, barely resisting the urge to salute. It’d look silly anyways; he’s only got the one hand, and it’s filled with the little bag packed full of his clothes. It probably would have been more practical to wear his hook, at least for carrying his stuff, but he knows how the damn thing looks and had wanted to make a good first impression. The wooden hand is damn near useless, but it tends to set people more at ease.

“Captain Graham Humbert,” the other man introduces himself, wisely choosing to nod in Killian’s direction instead of the more common handshake. A perceptive man, too, Killian notes; though maybe it’s others who should feel embarrassed about trying to shake the hand of a one-handed man, he’s always the one who feels off-kilter as he’s forced to juggle around everything he’s carrying to appease other people. “I’m one of Her Majesty’s advisors, and have been tasked with getting you settled.”

“A pleasure,” Killian nods in return. It may be too early to make any real judgements, but so far, he likes Captain Humbert and his direct manner. He seems like a calm man who you always know where you stand with, and there’s a lot to be said for that.

“Now, if you’ll follow me?” Humbert gestures, opening the gate and sweeping an arm wide in invitation.

“I’ll show you to your room, and the library of course, as soon as possible,” the older man explains as they walk across the grounds, following the neat cobblestone path, “but there’s the formalities to take care of first. Namely, meeting the Queen. As for your room, it’s right next to the library itself where you’ll have a office as well —”

“Meet the Queen? Now?” Killian sputters out as his mind catches up with his companion’s words.

“Yes, meet the Queen,” Humbert repeats as if it’s obvious, raising his eyebrows. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no problem at all,” Killian rushes to cover. “I just… er…” There’s the strongest urge to scratch behind his ear, a nervous tic he’s never quite broken, but his hand’s not free for that particular maneuver. He can’t quite put into words why the idea of meeting his monarch makes him nervous, mostly because he can’t put his finger on it himself. Obviously, he’d known that he’d be interacting with officials in his new position, but this feels a little bit like tossing him to the wolves straight away to see what he’s made of. He shouldn’t be so nervous; it’s not the first time meeting his monarch, that occasion happening years and years ago in the ceremony when he was first promoted to Lieutenant, back when the late Queen Snow and King David were still alive and he’d had good reason to be nervous as a young and clueless lad.

Humbert is good enough to smile and clap him on the back reassuringly. Killian’s really warming up to that man. “It’s just a formality - nothing to worry about,” he reiterates. “She just likes to be kept up to date and meet the staff. Put a face to the new names, if you will. I promise, she’s not nearly as intimidating as you’d think.”

“Well that’s… good.” What else is he supposed to say?

Killian had expected to be led to the throne room for the introduction, much like he had all those years ago, but Captain Humbert leads them through a maze of hallways, deeper and deeper into the palace, before stopping to knock on one of the doors. It must be a private wing; the carpets and sconces are still elaborate and expensive, but he somehow feels like it’s seen by few.

“Come in,” a voice sounds, faintly. It’s a female voice, so Killian supposes it must belong to the Queen, but he didn’t expect Her Majesty to sound quite so… distracted. Maybe the voice is from some sort of secretary or assistant, instead? Regardless, Killian braces himself for the introduction to come, posture snapping to attention in a way he’d never quite forgotten even after his discharge from the Navy.

When Humbert opens the door, however, it’s not a harried assistant waiting for them, but the Queen herself, bent over a stack of papers at her desk and clearly paying more attention to the words on the page than anything else going on around her. Killian almost expects to see little spectacles perched on her nose to complete this picture of fierce concentration before remembering that the Queen is still just a young woman, a few years younger than himself, even. She likely has several more years yet before she’ll need reading glasses. The room itself is much less grand than he expected - filled with well-made and doubtless expensive furniture, he’s sure, but it doesn’t feel like some display piece on a grand scale. It feels used, lived in. You can’t fake that homey air or items set down absent-mindedly as new matters demanded attention.

She pops her head up quickly enough, eyes wide with surprise and anticipation, when the Captain clears his throat to get her attention. “I hope we’re not interrupting, Ma’am,” he cautions.

“No, of course not, it’s fine, Graham,” she excuses. “I needed to take a break from these reports anyways. Is this the new librarian?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the other man replies, surreptitiously nudging Killian to prompt him to respond on his own - a necessary measure, considering Killian would have been more than happy just to let the Queen’s advisor lead this conversation.

“Killian Jones, Your Majesty,” he introduces himself, stepping forward to sketch a little bow as well as he can with his bag still in hand. “It’s an honor.”

“You were in the Navy, were you not?” she asks. Killian tries not to be too flattered that she knows that; if the stack of reports on her desk is any indication, she must be briefed about everything, no doubt including changes in her staff. Still, it’s nice that she remembered.

“Aye - I mean, yes, Ma’am,” he hastens to correct. ‘Aye’ feels just a little too informal for an audience with his sovereign. “I was a Lieutenant on the Jewel of the Realm before my injury.”

“That’s what I thought.” The Queen smiles, but it seems more a perfunctory gesture. Then again, with the weight of this war no doubt hanging over her head, her ability to find joy in things must be hindered. “If you need anything as you assume your duties, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to let either Captain Humbert or myself know. I’m sure you have quite the task on your hands - the previous holder of the position was… a little set in his ways.” Killian assumes she means old and eccentric. Gods willing, the task ahead of him will be a manageable challenge.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Queen Emma’s already turned her attention back to her paperwork, which Killian assumes is his cue to leave.

“Nothing to worry about,” Humbert smiles and says again once they’re back in the hallway and presumably moving towards the library and Killian’s chamber. “I’m afraid most of your interactions with Emma will be like that - she’s a bit too busy for much else these days,” he continues fondly.

The clear affection in the other man’s tone throws Killian off. There’s obviously some piece of Captain Humbert and the Queen’s relationship that he’s not quite grasping. “Pardon me, but you said you were one of Her Majesty’s advisors?” Killian cautiously asks.

“Yes, but I was her godfather first,” Humbert explains, correctly guessing where Killian’s question is leading. “Advisor sounds a bit better now though, considering she’s a grown woman in charge of a country.”

“Aye, I can see where that might be the case,” Killian chuckles.

They continue in silence only a few minutes longer down the corridors before stopping in front of a beautiful pair of glass-paned doors, the library just visible behind the decorative ironwork supporting each frame. Killian takes a moment just to marvel as his guide holds one of the doors open - it’s truly a wonder of a library that he’s faced with, and it’s about to all be his responsibility.

“Are you coming in?” Humbert asks, smiling at what must be an expression of childlike awe on Killian’s face. “I promise, you’ll get plenty of time to look your fill.”

“My sister-in-law would love this,” Killian explains as he finally crosses the threshold. “My nieces and nephew, too.”

“They’re welcome to visit. Perhaps once you’ve gotten a little more settled in?”

Killian grins at the thought. “They’d love that. I’d love that. Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” the older man says. “Truly, we want you to be as comfortable here as can reasonably be arranged. Just say the word. Now, you’ve got an office through that door —” he gestures towards the right-hand side of the room, where another ornate door is nestled between arching staircases to a second balcony-level of shelving — “and the librarian’s quarters through the other.” The door on the left-hand side mirrors its pair in placement, but doesn’t feature the same glass and ironwork as the main doors and office door do - likely to provide greater privacy. “There’s a lower level too, down a short staircase in the office, where the older and more fragile documents are stored away from the light. Would you like to go straight to the catalog, or would you prefer to deposit your bag first?”

“The bag first, if you don’t mind.” At Humbert’s acquiescent and friendly nod, Killian quickly crosses to the door leading to his rooms, briefly switching his bag to hang from his prosthetic to open the door. The room inside is reasonably sized, containing both a small sitting area and a bed with a dresser, all in warm woods and soft green fabrics that make the whole space feel comfortable. The two windows overlook a lovely view of the gardens, and if he’s not mistaken, the room is positioned to catch the light for as late as possible in the evenings, with a view of some beautiful sunsets to boot. It’s easy for Killian to imagine himself spending time in these rooms, doing his own private reading and spending his off hours.

It’s easy to tell Captain Humbert as such when the other man asks how he found his accomodations once he emerges back into the library.

“Excellent,” Humbert beams. “Now, as for the catalog,” he segues as they move instead towards the office, “I’m told it’s a very thorough compendium. However, Mr. Bradford’s organization system is… truthfully, a bit hard to follow. It made sense to him, but not to most others. I’d call it archaic, but I really don’t have enough knowledge of any other library system to make that judgement. If you will?” He gestures again through the doorway. The office proves to be neat and organized as Killian walks in; a sturdy wooden desk occupies the center of the room, with storage cabinets, presumably containing item records, lining the walls, leaving only a gap for a downwards twisting staircase. Killian assumes that’s for the fragile storage his guide had earlier described.

“The item records are organized alphabetically by title, we’ve discovered,” Humbert continues, “but the shelving itself is a bit of a mystery. As far as we can tell, they’re organized alphabetically by author, but in several different sections that we haven’t been able to really deduce the method of. Personally, I think Bradford was trying to ensure his own job security by making us dependent on his knowledge,” he jokes.

Taking a quick look at one of the cards in the nearest cabinet, Killian is relieved to see that not only is each one neatly written, but he can readily discern what this system is. Humbert had hit the nail right on the head in calling it “archaic” - the previous librarian had evidently been ordering sections by who had printed each volume, an organizational system previously preferred almost a century ago before printing had become easier and more widespread. Belle’s father had actually been one of the devoted hangers-on to that system, before she had taken over the shop and reorganized by subject matter.

“I am familiar with this system,” he assures Captain Humbert, “though I do agree, it’s rather… unwieldy. Is there perhaps someone I can borrow to help reorganize? I think that will be the first priority here.”

“Yes, of course, I’m sure a couple of page boys could be spared. I’ll take care of it first thing tomorrow,” Humbert assures him, his friendly face visibly relieved. The old system must have been giving them quite a lot of problems to elicit that reaction. “Is there anything else you need?”

“I think that’s all. It’s a lovely library you all have here - I’m excited to start exploring it.”

“Then if there’s nothing else, I’ll leave you to get settled in - here are the keys. The larger one there,” he indicates on the ring as he passes them over, “is for your office and the archive downstairs, and the smaller for your room. There should be desk keys in one of the drawers as well. As Her Majesty said, if you need anything, just let me know and I’ll see if we can’t do something about it.” With that, Captain Humbert inclines his head in a little bow and leaves Killian to his own devices.

He could get used to this, Killian ponders as he wanders back out into the main library space. There’s obviously a gorgeous collection here, one he suspects covers an enormous breadth and no doubt countless rare volumes he’s only heard rumor of until now. There’s quite a lot to be done as well, of course - the current organizational system truly is a counterintuitive mess, one he plans on revising first thing - but he’s never been opposed to hard work, and with the promised help, the whole thing should go quicker than he expects.

With that in mind, he turns back to the office to buckle down and begin sorting through the existing card catalog.

———

A week and a half later, Killian’s pleased to note that progress is being made. True to his word, Captain Humbert had sent a bright young page by the name of Henry to help with the reorganization effort. Killian initially just had the lad clearing off shelves onto carts, but he’d attacked the task with an unexpected enthusiasm and finished with the prescribed section much sooner than Killian had anticipated. From there, after a morning teaching Henry how to navigate the current organizational system, he’d set the boy to work weeding out and reshelving fiction works, the easiest portion of their reorganization. The lad is happy and eager to help - Killian is seriously considering seeing if he can be made a permanent librarian’s assistant or something, even after they’re through with this project - and it leaves Killian with plenty of time to work his way through the extensive card catalog, sorting entries into their new categories and noting the change on the card. It’s repetitive work, to be sure, but there’s something rewarding about watching the crates he’s borrowed as a temporary catch-all fill up as he sorts each to his satisfaction. He’ll make a second pass through each category later, but for the moment, he’s pleased with the progress.

The thing about the task at hand is that it’s wholly engrossing when he’s in the midst of it; ten more minutes becomes one more drawer becomes half the night if he’s not careful, Henry long since sent away for the evening and Killian left with only the company of a few candles and the sandwich the kitchens sent up for him. That’s how he sees the Queen again, as it turns out - creeping into the library at an ungodly hour of the night.

She visibly startles when she spots him in the glowing candlelight emanating from his office. For good reason, too; when Killian glances at the clock in the corner, it reads a quarter past one in the morning, well past time for him to call it quits and get some rest. Still, it seems wrong to not at least check and make sure that Her Majesty doesn’t need something before he retires, so after standing and stretching out his hunched back, Killian moves to do just that.

“Is there anything you need, Your Majesty?” he calls as he crosses the room. She doesn’t appear to, settling elegantly on one of the soft green couches and reaching for a book on the end table, but he’d hate to be rude and just cross the room without any acknowledgement. Spotting that she appears to be dressed in her nightclothes and a dressing gown, Killian stops himself from approaching too closely; bad form. Still, he waits patiently at a slight distance for her response, if any.

“I’m fine, Lieutenant,” she dismisses. “Just a bit of late-night reading to lull me back to sleep.”

Killian can’t help but smile; he understands that urge well, having succumbed himself many an evening. “I’m about to retire, myself,” he offers, “but if you need anything at all, just knock on the door. We’re halfway through assembling a fiction section along that wall, if stories strike your fancy tonight.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

(He can’t help but notice that she doesn’t acknowledge his offer of assistance. Then again, that’s really none of his business.)

(Regardless, she doesn’t knock on his door that night, and he writes the incident off as an unexpected encounter with his Queen - and something he may have to get used to in the future, living under the same gilded roof.)

———

Item requests trickle in right from the beginning, but pick up over time. Though Killian expects to eventually be asked for specific government records, most of the requests are fairly trivial; one of the dwarves wants facts to back up his argument with a friend, the cook has a particular fondness for sickly-sweet romances.

The first official document request he gets is incredibly routine - the records of a particular land battle for the queen and her advisors to study. They’re easy enough to locate down in the archive, but on instinct, he grabs the official reports on four other battles and skirmishes that utilized a similar technique. They weren’t strictly requested, but it feels incomplete not to send the whole picture.

When Her Majesty shows up that night to peruse the library - not an uncommon occurrence, he’s learning - it’s with questions for him as well.

“Why did you send those extra reports today?” She asks, browsing the section he’s begun to devote to life sciences - botany, zoology, and anatomy. It isn’t phrased as an interrogation or a demand, just a question, but Killian still feels put on the spot.

“I didn’t mean to presume,” he replies, “but it seemed like the Council would benefit from the fullest picture available. That battle you requested may be most notable for a certain tactic, but I thought it might be prudent to send records of how that tactic could go wrong as well as its most famous success. Illustrate some of the factors that could affect a modern attempt, if you will.”

Queen Emma nods thoughtfully. The silence as he waits for her response is filled with a palpable anticipation. “Thank you,” she finally says. “You had the right instinct. We ultimately decided not to move in that direction after your very thorough offerings.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Killian replies quietly, modestly, but inside he feels a surge of relief, with no small amount of pride mixed in.

“If you can keep it up with that kind of instinct,” she replies, still looking at the shelves, “I think you’ll do very well here.”

———

Really, Killian should just stay out of it. Keep things professional, ignore the fact that the Queen spends half her nights in his library whiling away the hours during bouts of insomnia and just get his own sleep.

That’s not how it works, though. There’s a little niggling instinct that keeps him working until Her Majesty arrives each night, making sure she doesn’t need anything from him before turning into bed. And it’s that same gut instinct that tells him to leave out the adventure tale he runs across while shelving - a tale of pirates and dashing rescues and high-seas capers.

She seems so often to come in and read histories and dry manuals, he’s noticed. Not that there’s anything wrong with her choices; that’s some people’s preferred reading materials. Her Majesty doesn’t seem to take that same enjoyment, though, and he suspects she’s just reading as an extension of all the reports she absorbs over the course of the day. Regardless of her reasons, the frustrated expression on her face certainly suggests she’s not enjoying her reading. If there’s one thing he’s picked up from Belle, it’s that reading should be a happy pursuit, if not the outright passion she herself finds in it; Killian can’t help but want to bring that enjoyment back to the Queen’s face.

When she tiptoes back in the next night, Killian takes a deep breath to fortify himself before crossing to her customary spot on the couch with the slim red volume in hand. “Pardon the interruption, Your Majesty, but I thought you might enjoy this,” he tells her, thrusting the book in her direction, likely more rudely than he intended.

Carefully, she takes the book from him, a look of confusion gracing her lovely face. “Oh?”

“It’s an adventure tale,” he explains. “Pirates and princesses and daring escapes and True Love. It’s not a particularly serious book, but…” he trails off, suddenly feeling silly.

The Queen takes a careful look at the first page before nodding briskly. “Thank you for the recommendation, Lieutenant.”

Killian can’t tell what that tone means, but it’s not his place to press further. “Of course, Ma’am. As always, just knock if you need anything.” Maybe she thinks he’s being ridiculous, and maybe she won’t read it after all, but it’s gratifying to see Her Majesty paging through the novel with her feet tucked up underneath a couch cushion as he closes his door.

(It’s even more gratifying when a few days later, she asks where she can find other books by the same author. Maybe that gut instinct was right after all.)

———

He wasn’t watching, really, not on purpose. It’s not like he waits by the library windows, just hoping to catch a glimpse of Her Majesty in the gardens. Killian can’t help it, though, if he just happens to spot her as he crosses past the windows as he moves from shelf to shelf.

He can’t bring himself to regret it, though.

From where Killian stands, he can look down over the green lawns where the Queen is practicing archery, shooting arrows at flying targets tossed by an assistant with unerring, deadly accuracy. He didn’t know this was one of her many talents, but he supposes it makes sense; her mother, the late Queen Snow, was famously proficient with a bow. It stands to reason her daughter would inherit that talent.

Killian already knew from his interactions with Queen Emma that she’s a marvel of a woman - brilliant and strong, not to mention breathtakingly beautiful - but this demonstration of her fierce side is something else, something new that leaves him watching in awe. Watching her like this reminds Killian of the warrior queens of legend, women who led armies and charged headfirst into battle alongside their soldiers. With such a fragile line of succession in Misthaven, Killian knows Emma would never be allowed to do the same, but that picture is still in his head. He’s certain she’d make a glorious sight and be absolutely brilliant in that role.

Killian watches for a few minutes longer as Emma shoots down target after target before turning back to the library, this time with a specific quest in mind. If he remembers correctly, they’ve got a biography of Queen Elendrea around here somewhere - he’ll have to pull it and set it aside for the next time insomnia brings the Queen to his little corner of the world.

Sure enough, she’s down in the library the next night, 12:30am, right on time. When she sees the book, she smiles wryly, turning the leather-bound volume back and forth in her hands. Her Majesty isn’t much of a smiler, Killian’s noticed; she makes the motion just fine, but it rarely seems genuine, more just a reflex than anything else. He hopes that maybe, one day, he can coax a real one out of her - or at least that one of his books can.

“I suppose you saw that earlier then,” she comments. She doesn’t put the book down, though, he’s pleased to note, instead fiddling with the edges and running her thumb down the pages.

“Aye,” he replies, somewhat bashful. “I didn’t mean to, of course, I just looked out the windows —”

“It’s fine, Jones, no need for excuses.” That smile is almost real, even if it’s small - probably because he’s scratching at his ear like a dog, a nervous tic he’s never been able to shake. Damn thing.

“It was very impressive,” he offers in response. “Very… fierce. I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of that.”

“Just working off some frustration,” she shrugs. “My mother used to bring me out when I was upset. It’s not the same without her, but I still enjoy it.”

“I was wondering,” Killian smiles back. “Is that your weapon of choice, then?” The words are teasing, but he’s genuinely curious as well; King David had been a legendary swordsman, and Killian had grown up on the legend of how he slayed a dragon.

“Just the bow, I’m afraid. My father tried to teach me to sword fight, but it turns out I’m not very good.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” Killian smiles. “From what I’ve seen, you’re a very capable woman. I’m sure you can do anything you set your mind to.”

“That’s very kind, but really, I’m not very good at it,” she assures him, looking amused that he’d even think otherwise. “There’s too much footwork, and I’ve never been very good at keeping track of my feet - especially not while having to focus on my arms at the same time. It took me an embarrassing amount of time to learn how to dance, and I’m still not very good,” she confides.

I’d love to dance with you, all the same, he wants to say. That’s crazy talk, though; he can’t say that to the Queen. Where did such a crazy thought even come from? He veers towards safer territory instead. “I haven’t picked up a sword, myself, since my injury,” he says, waving his stump as if in illustration, “but if you’d ever like to spar, I’d welcome the opportunity. Without a second hand, we might be evenly matched,” he jokes.

“What, in here?”

Killian shrugs, almost exaggerating the motion in an effort to seem casual. “Why not? There’s plenty of space in here, enough not to have to worry about injuring the books as long as we stay towards the center. And who knows, it might tire you out enough to sleep.” The Queen adopts a thoughtful expression at that point, but Killian is wise enough not to press it further. Bad form. “Just a thought.”

They retreat to their separate corners, as is customary, but Queen Emma does so with a pensive look on her face - and with the biography in her hand, Killian is pleased to note.

(He’s even more pleased when she returns the next night with a pair of blunted practice swords. As it turns out, she’s just as mediocre with a sword as promised, but he’s very out of practice himself. It’s worth it, anyways, to watch her work up a sweat bouncing across his stone floors.)

———

The moment Queen Emma walks through the doors one evening, maybe three months after their late-night sessions in the library began, Killian can tell something is wrong. Though glimpses of happiness on her face are nigh-on unheard of, that’s usually replaced instead by determination, the undeniable sense that though exhausted and often frustrated, she’s got a spine of the strongest steel underneath that pristine skin. Tonight, though, she just seems listless, a bit lost, picking up a stray book from the table but making no move to page through it. Not that he can blame her - it’s a very dry volume about agriculture techniques that he’d set aside for one of the advisor’s reference earlier. Still - he can’t help but be concerned.

“Pardon my presumption, Your Majesty,” he broaches cautiously, “but are you alright?”

“I don’t even know,” she mutters, seemingly to herself as she stares off into the middle distance. As she realizes her words were audible, she quickly snaps back to attention, shaking her head as if to dispel the thoughts. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to listen if you need an ear,” he offers in return. Personally, Killian thinks the Queen needs that; she seems to spend so much time performing for others, without taking any for herself. He won’t wheedle or force her to say anything - lord knows he doesn’t have that standing, even if he’s eager to help her in any way she’ll allow.

He doesn’t need to wheedle though, it turns out, as Queen Emma sighs heavily and turns to face him. “I just wonder what I’m doing some days is all. My parents prepared me as best they could, but there’s no way to really know what to expect until you’re sitting on that throne. Especially with a war. Men are dying every day on the borders, and the citizens are terrified, and maybe I try my best, but how good is that? Most days, I feel like I’m making this up as I go along,” she confides with a dark chuckle. “My parents… they were supposed to be here for so much longer. I crave their advice every day, while at the same time, I feel so bitter about the fact that they left me here without their counsel. I know they couldn’t help it, of course, but… they shared a heart. They made that decision, and they did it out of the truest love, but most days, as the one left behind, it feels like they chose each other over their only daughter. And it’s stupid, and irrational, but it hurts, especially when I still need them so badly. My mother was pregnant with me, you know, back when she gave half her heart to my father. And I’m so grateful every day that I got to grow up knowing him, and loving him, and being loved by him, but she didn’t know it would work. She didn’t know that the fairies could bring him back to life with half her heart after Regina crushed his. She could have died, attempting that, and me along with her, but she made that decision. And I’m grateful for it, but on days like today when I feel so lost and unsure what to do, it feels like they’d rather be together and dead than alive - without the other, but with me. Their daughter. Who needs them, so badly. Because I don’t know what to do.” By the time she finishes her speech, one he suspects has been bottled up for far too long, there’s tears trickling down her cheeks.

Maybe it’s overstepping, but Killian carefully reaches out a hand to brush the tears away. She needs that right now more than any propriety, he thinks. “You’re doing the best you can,” he assures her gently. “And maybe that doesn’t always feel like enough, but it’s the most anyone can ask of you. You are the fiercest, most brilliant woman I’ve had the honor of meeting, and I can’t tell you how much I admire what you’ve managed to do. It’s no small feat, leading a country through a war,” he reminds her gently with a smile.

“You really think so?” She asks in a small voice, looking up at him with those big, sad, scared eyes.

“I do. One hundred percent.” An idea strikes him suddenly. “I’ll be right back,” he assures the Queen as he moves to grab the volume he has in mind, one Henry had stumbled across earlier and spent half the afternoon entranced by. Returning to the couch, he carefully places the brown leather tome in Her Majesty’s lap.

She chuckles a little. “A book of fairytales?”

“A book of fairytales,” he echoes. “My sister always says that fairytales teach us to have hope, even in the darkest of times, and I think you could use a little of that right now. I have full faith you’ll find a way to bring us through this.”

“Thank you,” she smiles through the residual tears - the first real smile she’s directed just at him.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“You know, after all this tonight,” she laughs, “I think you could just call me Emma. I’d like it if you did.”

“As you wish, Your - Emma. As you wish, Emma.”

———

“I’ll be leaving for a few days,” she tells him one night, almost offhandedly, sitting on her favorite couch as Killian adjusts some of the shelving spacing. “Do you have any recommendations for me to take with?”

Killian’s heart lurches a little bit at that, but he tries to school himself and his traitor heart back into neutrality. The announcement shouldn’t mean anything to him; she’s his Queen, after all, and he’s got no right to harbor any fonder feelings than loyalty, maybe comradeship after all these nights amongst the stacks.

“Well, I suppose the materials I’d send with you to prepare would depend on what you hoped to achieve from this journey,” he replies carefully, making a point to keep his gaze focused on the shelves, lest his gaze give anything away. No doubt, if she looked closely, she could spot his very heart shining out through his eyes, and he’d prefer not to be that obvious, thank you very much.

“I can’t really tell you that,” she replies apologetically. “That doesn’t matter anyways, though. I meant something to read for myself. You know, one of your famous recommendations.”

Killian falls silent at her words, crossing over to peruse the fiction section. Something for her to take with her… the obvious choice would be an adventure story, something to while potential hours in a carriage and make whatever this journey is seem akin to whatever quest for glory she’s reading about. However, Killian’s mind keeps being drawn instead towards the poetry section. It’s riskier, for certain, but his instincts have served him well thus far, so he continues to go with his gut in selecting a collection of love poems. It’s a little too close to how he feels inside, but when has that ever stopped him?

Quickly, he finds a small box to put the volume in before moving to hand it off to the Queen. “Promise you won’t peek, not until you’re on your way,” he warns, smiling teasingly at her and holding the parcel just out of reach.

Queen Emma rolls her eyes, but she smiles too as she reaches for box. “I promise.”

(It’s a moment that could make or break his fledgling affections in her hands, but that’s a risk he’s chosen to take. After all, his intuition when it comes to books has served him well thus far.)

She’s gone for almost a week, and Killian feels like he spends half that time just watching his doors to see if she’s about to walk back through. Gods above, he’s pathetic, pining after a woman so wildly out of his reach. That awareness still doesn’t keep his heart from leaping with excitement when Emma walks back into his library, flopping dramatically - or maybe just exhaustedly - into a chair.

“It’s good to see you back,” he smiles. “Did your trip go well?”

The Queen - Emma raises a hand above the chair back to wiggle it in a so-so motion. “It was… eventful,” she finally settles on.

“Is that so?” He doesn’t want to push too hard, knowing she couldn’t tell him even her destination before her departure, but he’s curious, and a willing ear if she wants it.

“Yeah.” She pauses, leaving a stretched silence in her wake before she breaks it again. “What I’m about to say… it’s just between us, alright? Not that you’re a gossip or something, but really, this doesn’t leave here.”

“Of course.”

“I went to the border to meet with one of Camelot’s generals,” she confides. “Lancelot. Good man. There’s apparently a lot of anger and unrest in their country about this war as Arthur keeps conscripting men and diverting more resources than can be spared to the army. He wanted to speak with me about whether we’d back a new government if it came to power. That’s what’s been keeping me up a lot of nights lately - the messages we receive from him.”

“Understandable.”

“He wanted us to meet to talk about a potential successor. Some noblewoman, he said. He maybe forgot to mention that the noblewoman was Queen Guinevere.”

Killian snorts - with that tone of voice, he can’t help it.

“I know, right?” Emma smiles back. “That was a bit of a shock. Apparently, not only has her and Arthur’s marriage been rather on the rocks for a while, but she privately suspects that he’s gone mad and thinks a change in leadership is in order. She’d make a good Queen, I think - she seems genuinely concerned about their subjects.”

“So what did he want to talk to you about then?”

“Support, mostly. If they manage to replace Arthur will we support the new government in return for a mutual peace treaty, blah blah blah. I agreed, of course.”

“Sounds like a successful journey then,” Killian smiles.

“Tentatively, yes,” Emma agrees. Killian is about to turn back to his sorting when she broaches the silence again. “Thank you for the book recommendation. It was lovely.”

Ah yes. That. Killian’s been torn between anxiety about wanting to know what she thought and never wanting to hear about the love poems again, and now is the moment of truth. “I’ve always found those verses to be particularly moving,” he replies carefully.

“I agree. Completely.”

There’s probably more to unpack from that statement, but for the moment Killian lacks the courage to do so. Instead, he flashes a shy smile before turning back to his own distractions.

That’s more than enough to tide him over for tonight.

———

A visit from Belle and the children was probably overdue.

It’s not that he hasn’t seen them at all - he’s been home, of course, for dinners and Liam’s shore leaves and Max’s seventh birthday, but despite being assured from the very first moment by Graham that they’d be more than welcome to come see him, Killian’s just never arranged for it.

Belle’s been pestering him to see his library, though, and he does miss seeing the children, so he finally sets things up for them to come for a visit. It’s worth it just for the massive hug he gets from his little bookworms, but seeing the awe on his sister-in-law’s face is an enjoyable bonus.

“This is amazing, Killian,” she tells him, spinning around in a slow circle. The true testament to her awe is how she barely pays attention to how her three rascals dash off to explore. Not that there’s much they can really get into - the archives are locked up tight, and Killian keeps a tight ship he’s more than willing to adjust if anything is left out after little hands pull them off the shelves. Still, Belle’s always been concerned about maintaining a very precise shelving system, so her lack of concern about possible impending disarray is a real testament to her distraction.

“This is yours, Uncle Killy?” Sylvie yells from across the room, the excitement obvious on her face. Her mother’s daughter, that one.

“I’m taking care of it, little love,” he explains. “The library is the Queen’s, but I get to use it. And that means that all you ruffians get to use it too,” he smiles, bending down to bop Harriet gently on the nose - the only one who hadn’t gone running off immediately.

As if on cue, the doors to the library open, the one squeaking slightly on its hinges. “Jones, I’m looking for —” Emma begins before drawing up short. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not at all, Your Majesty,” he smiles. He does remember her permission to call her by her given name, but it seems more appropriate to stick to formality with his family present. They’re actively trying to instill good manners and good form into the little ones, anyways. “Just taking a moment to show off the library to my brother’s wife and children.”

The aforementioned wife and children are clearly startled by the interruption, their expressions ranging from mild fear from the young ones to awed surprise from their mother. Quickly, Killian stoops to pick up Harriet from where she’s trying to hide behind his legs, gesturing to Belle to herd the other two closer for an introduction.

“Ma’am, may I introduce my sister, Belle —” she drops into a slight curtsey, likely straight out of some half-remembered etiquette book — “and her children, Max, Sylvie, and Harriet. And this, of course,” he gestures back at Emma, “is Her Majesty, the Queen.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Emma tells them. He can tell that she’s making a concerted effort to exude warmth, her smile one of the rare, genuinely happy ones he’s so rarely seen. She even makes a point to engage his nieces and nephew. “Thank you for letting your uncle come work for me. He’s very good at his job.”

Max and Sylvie still look wary, but little Harriet nods sagely in his arms, like that’s all she needs to hear to like the Queen. Who knows; she’s not yet three, maybe that’s true.

It doesn’t take much to sway the other two, though, especially when Emma leads their mother to her favorite couch to talk about Belle’s recommendations for stories of suspense. At some point, Harriet even ends up standing on the cushion next to the Queen with Emma’s arm bracing her upright as her little fingers play with the few golden tendrils escaping from Emma’s updo.

“See? Not so scary,” Killian murmurs into Sylvie’s ear where she’s curled against his side, paging through some zoology book with beautiful illustrations of fish.

“Of course she’s not scary, Uncle Killy,” Sylvie replies, her brow furrowed in stubborn insistence. “Don’t be silly.”

How easy it is for children to forget and change their minds.

———

“I’ll bet you never imagined this, the first time we met,” Emma pants after a round of sword fighting. She remains slightly terrible at the art, but had actually managed to put her sword to his throat tonight, so maybe there’s hope yet. “Can you believe that was only a few months ago?”

“I really can’t,” he assures her, and it’s true - their dynamic feels so natural that it feels like he and Emma must have been spending their nights together in the library for an eternity. “Granted, that wasn’t the first time we met,” he adds as an afterthought.

Emma frowns at that. “It wasn’t?”

“No. You remember how I was a Lieutenant in the Navy, of course?” he asks. Emma nods in return, though her brow is still furrowed in confusion. “And you remember how such a promotion usually warrants a ceremony here? Especially when one’s brother is made a Captain at the same time?”

“I suppose we would have met then, wouldn’t we?” Emma realizes. “I’m sorry that I didn’t remember.”

“It’s quite alright, love, you’ve doubtless had to do a good many of those ceremonies.”

“It sounds like you remember me, though,” she comments.

Killian bashfully reaches for his ear, only to realize that with the hook, that’d be a terrible idea likely ending in injury. “Aye, well, I was a 23 year old lad, still wet behind the ears, and quite smitten.”

“Oh really?” Emma laughs back, clearly amused by the idea.

“Oh, aye. Absolutely smitten. You were all lightness and smiles and grace, and I was lost. Liam gave me a good bit of grief about it, actually.”

Something about that makes Emma go quiet again. When she finally speaks, it damn near breaks Killian’s heart to hear. “I’m sorry I’m not that girl anymore,” she tells him.

“I’m not that man, either. It’s been eight years; we both grew and changed. I don’t think the younger Emma and I would get on well, not with the man I’ve become,” he replies. He should stop there, but dangerous words bubble on the back of his tongue, and he can’t help but let them spill out. Oh well; instinct has served him well thus far where Emma’s concerned, anyways. “Just because you’re not that innocent, lighthearted girl anymore doesn’t make you any less enchanting. You’ve become so much more in the ensuing years - a strong, capable woman who’s all the more beautiful for it. Any man who doesn’t prefer the woman you’ve become over the girl you were is a fool.”

“And are you a fool, Lieutenant Jones?” Emma asks, stepping into his space to rest her delicate hands on his chest.

Killian swallows, working up his courage again; this feels like a major moment. “Not in that regard.”

She smiles, one hand gently stroking over his heart. “Enchanting, huh?”

Killian finds himself moving once more on instinct - his stump to rest lightly on her hip, and his hand to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. “Utterly enchanting,” he whispers, before finally leaning down the last little distance required to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. Maybe it’s improper to be kissing his Queen, but in truth, Emma’s stopped being his Queen long ago to become just Emma, his love.

He’d be more than happy just to spend an eternity on those gentle brushes of their lips, but when Emma starts brushing at the seam of his lips with her tongue, seeking to deepen the exchange… well, he’d be a fool to deny her. And as he said before, Killian Jones is no fool.

The kiss is everything he could want, everything he’s dreamed of in weeks and months of pining. Emma’s hair is indescribably soft between his fingers where his hand has made its way into the strands, as is her hand where it grips at his neck. Her fingers playing with the ends of his hair are enough to make him shudder, ultimately breaking their back and forth of tongues and lips and teeth. That’s probably ultimately a good thing; he’s been told that breathing is important, though it’s never seemed more overrated than in this moment.

As Emma steps away, his stomach plummets - did she not enjoy that the way he did? Did he overstep? - but she just smiles, bending to pick up her discarded sword and twirling it around in an elaborate arc.

“What do you say, Lieutenant?” She smirks. “Up for another sparring session?”

(If that wink at the end is any indication, Killian doesn’t think she means swordplay - at least, not in the traditional sense.)

Laughing - laughing! Emma laughing! - she makes a dash for his private quarters, Killian eagerly giving chase and making sure to shut and bolt the door behind them. Even if no one usually comes to the library this time of night, he’s not taking any chances. Killian turns back around just in time to see Emma drop the sword and toss herself onto the bed in a fit of giggles, bouncing a little as she attempts to arrange herself. He’s only too happy to join her, tackling her back onto the pillows before bracing himself above her.

It’s been a while since he’s done this, the years since he lost his hand and spent living with his brother’s family not exactly conducive to an active sex life, but he remembers well enough to manage. It helps that Emma’s got her loose nightdress and underdrawers for him to deal with, having left her dressing gown outside. He draws the garments off her body in between hungry kisses and Emma seems only too happy to help him do the same, working on the laces of his pants as he tosses his hook Gods-only-know-where and whips his shirt over his head. Her fingers seem to trace over his erection more than they strictly need to as she loosens the laces, the devious little minx. Then again, once her self-assigned task is done, she does reach inside to grip and stroke him with one hand while the other works his pants down his thighs, so complaints seem a little ridiculous.

He has to pull away briefly to finish removing his pants, but that’s probably a blessing in disguise; not much longer and he would have lost all reason and control. As it is, when he returns, now able to lie flesh to flesh, he can return the favor.

Certain things, as it turns out, are still buried in his memory, like that thing with his tongue that always drove the ladies crazy back in the Navy. It has much the same effect on Emma, especially when paired with fingers plunging, stroking inside her as his tongue and lips go to work on her sensitive nub. In contrast, he thought he remembered exactly the way it felt when a woman clenched in climax around his fingers, that surge of masculine pride to match the cresting of her ardor, but with Emma it seems sweeter, better earned.

(That may just be the taste of her release on his lips, however. He’s more than satisfied, either way.)

The sex itself is, not to understate the matter, glorious. There’s always some adjustment with a new partner, learning a rhythm both can follow, but with Emma he falls into sync quickly in a perfect balance of her hips arching upwards and his driving forward on long, delicious thrusts. It’s probably a miracle he’s able to bring her to completion again along with him, the time it’s been since his last encounter bringing him close in an embarrassing amount of time, but he’s able to brace himself on his left arm and reach down to rub just above where they’re joined while mouthing at one of her breasts and somehow, some way, it’s just enough to get her there, the tight clasp of her flesh quickly pulling him after her.

It’s easy to pull her into his arms afterwards, tucking her lithe body against his side and letting their legs tangle together. Maybe there will be a second round later, but for the moment, sleep is calling. Anything else can wait.

“Those are some impressive sword skills you’ve got there, Lieutenant,” Emma mumbles, voice somewhat muffled by the way she buries her face in his still-naked chest. “I insist that we continue our dueling later.”

Killian chuckles tiredly, letting a content little smile appear on his face. “As you wish, milady.”

———

It’s hard to pull himself out of slumber’s grasp, but years in the Navy mean that Killian is dragged back to awareness by the distant sounds of shouting. There’s an urge to just ignore it, to not open his eyes, to let himself slip back into sleep; the events of the night prior were so wonderful he’s frankly afraid they were all a dream, and he’s not anxious to wake up and discover that for certain. Emma stirs a little in his arms, though, and it’s suddenly easier to open his eyes when faced with that proof. He’s eager to see what she looks like in the disarray of the morning anyways.

Beautiful, as it turns out - exquisitely rumpled, with her hair tumbling every which way on the pillow and a peaceful little smile on her face. Killian would be happy just to watch her all morning, but the shouting sounds again, and he’s on instant alert. Not a dream, then.

“Emma,” he hisses, shaking her by the shoulder. “Darling, wake up.”

“Don’ wanna,” she mumbles, trying to turn her face into the pillow.

“Emma, something’s wrong,” he insists. “You’ve got to get up.”

Just at that moment an almighty clatter sounds in the hallways, snapping her to awareness. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know. Let me find out.” Quickly, Killian grabs his trousers off the floor, quickly sliding into the legs and tying the laces in a sloppy knot. His first instinct is to walk out into the library, but instinct tells him to check first. Sure enough, as he peeps through the little peephole in his door, they’re not alone. Killian’s blood suddenly runs cold; standing in his library is a strange man holding a sword and wearing a cloak emblazoned with the emblem of Camelot.

“We’ve been infiltrated,” he calls back to Emma as quietly as he can. It’s unnecessary; she’s wiggled into his shirt and crept right up beside him. Killian would take more time to marvel at the sight of her lovely long legs poking out the bottom of his shirt if it wasn’t for the circumstances. As it is, she’s already pushing him aside to take her own peek, just as the man outside cackles with glee.

“I know you’re in here, Your Majesty!” he calls. Emma’s face blanches at the taunt, abruptly swinging away from the little peephole.

“Do you know him?” Killian asks urgently.

“It’s King Arthur,” she hisses back, “though Gods only know what the hell he’s doing here.”

“I know you’ve been speaking with my wife, corrupting my wife,” the intruder continues, conveniently answering Emma’s question. “I know you’ve been trying to steal my country out from under me, you and that traitor Lancelot. I know!” The more the enemy king speaks, the more manic his voice becomes. Killian is suddenly reminded of Emma’s summary of her meeting - that Queen Guinevere feared the King had gone mad. It certainly seems like that’s the case, if the ranting man in the other room is any indication.

“How does he know you’re here?” Killian whispers in question. Arthur shouldn’t have that information.

“My robe,” Emma explains. “It was a gift Guinevere gave me at the meeting, one of a collection of peace offerings. It’s made from very distinctive Camelot silk.”

That would explain it. The how is somewhat irrelevant though, as they’re forced to deal with Arthur’s presence regardless. Killian does his best to tune out the raving as he attempts to come up with a plan. No one knows Emma is here; realistically, no one is coming to save them. As it is, they’re two against one. He’s got his old officer’s sword in his wardrobe, and if worst comes to worst Emma’s blunted sword can be used as a distraction, maybe convince Arthur they’re better armed than they actually are. Play this right, and they might just survive.

“We’re going to have to take him,” Killian tells Emma, as seriously as he can manage.

“Why can’t we just stay here?” Emma hisses back.

“We can have the advantage right now - two against one. Eventually others are going to show up to help Arthur, or he’ll figure out how to swing around and through the bedroom window, and we don’t want either of those things to happen. It’s better for us to fight now, while we’ve still got the best chance to take him out.” As he talks, Killian searches for his hook, finally spotting it underneath his chair.

“What do you want me to do?” Emma asks as he clicks the instrument into his brace. Every weapon could prove a crucial advantage.

“Stay behind me, try to get to some other weapon. I think there’s some historic rapier down in the archive, if you can make it,” he instructs, tossing Emma the blunted sword and moving to retrieve his own weapon. He’s the better swordsman, but it’s better for her to have that than nothing at all. “Ready?”

Just then, Arthur pounds on the door. “Come out and face me, bitch!”

Emma nods in determination. “Ready.”

Killian counts down under his breath, before nodding at Emma to open the door. She shoves it back with force, managing to catch Arthur in the face; the idiot had still been standing right there. He reels back with a sudden gush of blood from his presumably broken nose. That’s good for them; he’s already at a disadvantage.

“You’ll pay for that,” he snarls, lunging forward towards Emma, but Killian blocks the way, raising his sword and forcing the other man to either engage or get slashed.

From there, it’s a furious battle. Killian knows he’s in a fight for both their lives, this spar more important than even any battle he was part of in the Navy, and pours every ounce of his energy into the duel. His arms ache and he’s drenched in sweat, but there’s no quitting, no resting, because Emma’s life is in his hand - his Queen, his love - and failure is not an option.

Killian’s got Arthur firmly on the defensive, but he’s tiring quickly, and the other man could certainly turn that into his advantage. He’s lost track of Emma, which scares him to pieces, but he’s got the madman in front of him on tenterhooks and he knows Arthur hasn’t been able to reach her. That’ll have to be enough.

It’s almost not, though, because Killian makes a stupid mistake, glances his hip off of one of the tables scattered around the room. He’s distracted only for a moment, trying to make sure he doesn’t trip over the table leg, but Arthur takes that advantage, pressing forward with a crazed look in his eyes. Suddenly his strikes are coming faster and faster and Killian feels the panic rise as he suddenly knows the tides have turned, and not in his favor -

And then, by some miracle, Arthur crumples. Casting darting eyes around him, Killian spots Emma, still poised with a heavy book held aloft where she struck their enemy into unconsciousness.

“Are you alright?” she asks urgently.

“Aye, love,” Killian wheezes back, “just a bit winded. Well done.”

“Thanks,” she replies, tossing the tome aside and making Killian wince. Luckily, when he catches a glimpse of the title, it’s an out-of-date atlas; that probably needs to be removed from the collection anyways. “Now, I don’t suppose you have any rope around?” Killian shakes his head, still too out of breath to speak more than strictly necessary. “That’s fine,” Emma replies. “I’ll just use the belt from that damn robe.”

Gods, he loves her. Killian silently blesses whatever actions of instinct have brought them here, because he’s never encountered any woman more fascinating and magnificent.

A couple of guardsmen, fresh off subduing Arthur’s soldiers, passes by soon enough and is happy to carry the disgraced King down to the dungeons. Thankfully, Emma finds a way to close her robe even without the belt; as keen as Killian is on her excellent arse, he’s not quite as fond of the idea of everyone else catching a glimpse. Graham still seems to know what’s going on anyways as he comes by to check on his goddaughter, rolling his eyes when he spots Killian’s stump arm draped around Emma’s waist, but that’s probably the best outcome they could hope for.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to stay here the rest of the night,” Killian murmurs in her ear as the mass of worried advisors and guardsmen and seemingly everyone else in the damn palace who needed to check on her begins to disperse. It’s obvious that she’s loved by everyone around her, but for the moment, Killian’s more interested in indulging the fledgling affection between just the two of them.

Luckily, Emma smiles back up at him through heavy-lidded, exhausted eyes. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Lieutenant.”

He’s the luckiest bastard alive.

———

Lancelot is more than happy to take Arthur off their hands, meeting the carriage at the Misthaven-Camelot border after freeing Queen Guinevere - soon to be Queen Regnant Guinevere - from the dungeon of Avalon Castle, where the deposed king will himself await trial. Liam and Graham are even happier to be relieved him, however, after being treated to several days of the king’s raving, the speech impediment caused by his broken nose doing nothing to rein him in.

(It probably doesn’t help either that Arthur keeps shouting about sees fugging da buhworm! Killian had tried to convince his brother that he didn’t need to be the one to volunteer to see this through, but Liam had some idea in his head that after Arthur endangered his younger brother, it’s his personal duty to see this through. So really, it’s his own fault that he’s forced to hear about Killian’s love life from a madman.)

(Killian does find himself wishing they had gagged the crazy bastard when Liam goes off on his own rant about bad form and defiling the Queen. Especially since if anyone’s doing the defiling, it’s Emma herself, at least if the nail marks down his back and the lovebite barely covered by his shirt are any indication.)

Killian’s tenure as the palace librarian ends up being a relatively short one, but he’s fine with that. He accomplished a lot while he was in the position, and he’s sure the next occupant will bring their own remarkable skills.

His own excellent instincts tell him he’d be an idiot to turn down the promotion anyways. Prince Consort really does have a nice ring to it.

#cs ff #cs january joy #csjj #captain swan #my writing #The Queen's Librarian #librarian!Killian #queen!Emma #lieutenant swan #is that a thing?#it is now

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donteattheappleshook · 5 years ago

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Seal of Approval

Tumblr ate my answer so I’m gonna post the story this way. This is a response to an anonymous prompt for a CS/Snowing double date combined with an Ao3 prompt for a CS date set during the six week gap in season 4.

Big thanks to @xhookswenchx and @teamhook for looking this over when I was pulling my hair out! (also sorry if you accidentally get tagged twice because of this lol)