#cs au ff

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS24 ONe Shot: "On Wings of Storm"

This canon divergent AU was intended to be a shifter one shot, but I don't know that the character is a shifter in the strictest sense, as there is a curse and magic involved. It is set sometime post Milah's death in Season Two, and then embarks on a different path from there...

I apologize ahead of time for any errors that I might need to come back and fix; I was writing this right up to midnight and didn't have enough time to edit fully. My beta for this year's @cssns @myfearless-love did absolutely brilliant work, catching so many typos and run-ons and confusing phrases. She was invaluable and deserves so much love for all her help! Anything left over is 100% my fault for hurrying to finish.

**I am thrilled to be reposting now with the gorgeous cover artwork created for me by @motherkatereloyshipper! She captured so well the drama and intensity of the ship's danger during the storm and the petrel coming to her aid. I just love it!! Thank you, thank you, thank you SO MUCH @motherkatereloyshipper!**

Please enjoy, and I'd love to hear what you think!!

Summary: Killian Jones has lost everything and everyone he ever held dear. All that is left for him is vengeance and pain. None could have expected the strange twist of Fate that would change everything, or the surprising companion that will come to touch his heart in ways he would have no longer thought possible.

“On Wings of Storm” 

By: @snowbellewells

“Attention, you bilge rats!” His angry voice rang out unmistakably over the planks of the majestic ship - carrying clearly despite the buffeting wind and rolling sea beneath. The power in the sharply accented words cracked like a whip, causing every member of his crew to flinch nervously and stand at attention to do their captain’s bidding and avoid his ire. Those who made their home and livelihood upon the Jolly Roger - even the few remaining grizzled veterans who’d once served on her decks when she was the Jewel of the Realm - knew her captain’s temper was perpetually on a knife’s edge. The harshness and cruelty of the lives they all lived, and the loss and betrayal Captain Jones had weathered, would bow and break many. It was understood not to cross those who had survived and been hardened by it.

Yet, even with that knowledge, the cause of his current tirade was unclear. When the ship had docked at the remote port, some had stayed aboard to handle various duties and keep watch while others went ashore to roam and shop, or to visit inns or brothels, but all had been attending to their assigned duties and nothing was amiss. However, the thunderous look upon their Captain’s dark brow spoke volumes. Something was amiss, and he would see it put to rights. Pity the fool who was found at fault. The cutlass at his hip bounced gently against his leg, and the still awe-inspiring metal appendage which had replaced his left hand mere months ago glinted menacingly in the low moonlight as he paced back and forth, eyeing each man with an intensity that would make anyone tremble.

It was old Mullins who finally dared to put the question to the Captain gingerly when no further explanation or action seemed forthcoming. “What is it that’s angered ye, Cap’n?” he queried respectfully, head bowed in deference as his speech drew Killian Jones’ attention. “We’ve been here aboard the Jolly and at our post since ye left. Did something happen on shore?”

Killian’s attention zeroed intently on the graying Mullins, who quickly gave another bob of his chin in respect or acknowledgement. Not about to contradict their captain, but also not knowing what had upset him, none of them could move to make it right. Those piercing blue eyes, like ice chips in Mullins’ shuddering imagination, beneath the dark, forbidding brows he used to great effect, seemed to be searching his subordinate’s face and sifting his words for any hint of dissension or deception. Finding nothing of the kind, the volatile man’s gaze swept over the rest of the crew assembled around him nervously for some time before offering the explanation in a menacing growl.

“It has come to my attention - and make no mistake, even a scoundrel such as meself has loyal allies - that some of you are dissatisfied with your position aboard this vessel. Let me be crystal clear; a place aboard the Jolly Roger is an honor and a prize - she is a marvel unmatched in speed and quality throughout the realm. However, your presence here is entirely voluntary. I have never, and will never, tolerate the enslavement of any crew member on the Jolly. Such dishonor shall not taint her decks. So, if any of you wish to depart, then by all means, leave now. But be warned; spreading false tales of captivity or coercion, thereby sullying our flag and reputation, will not be tolerated. Such lies will be rooted out and those responsible will face severe consequences.”

He paused, clearly waiting for any who might be bold enough to disembark under his watchful eye and be noted for their decision. None upon the deck moved or spoke, and old Mullins noted sadly that the only sound or hint of motion was the heavy breathing that escaped the Captain’s mouth and the heaving of his chest, evidenced by what had clearly been an angry charge from the town’s center and his impassioned outburst.

As Jones finally seemed to regain control, sending him back to work with a brisk order, Mullins couldn’t help thinking resignedly about how much the Captain had changed, in the past few months especially, but also in the years since his brother’s death. The man Captain Jones had once been - that promising but naive young lieutenant - seemed like a distant memory. Few of the current crew members had served under Jones’ proud and honorable older brother, Liam, who had been tragically struck down in his prime by treachery. Liam’s untimely death had altered the course of all their lives in ways none could have anticipated. Mullins found it painful to remember the wide-eyed, gangly lieutenant Killian had once been. That young man had spoken passionately of glory for the crown and the name of Jones, ready to follow his Captain anywhere. He had believed in righteousness and the power of individuals to shape their own destinies. That idealistic youth had hardened into a bitter and implacable man. The once-noble Killian Jones now sought only vengeance, becoming known and feared across the seas as the dreaded villain, Captain Hook. Mullins sighed and returned to his task; there was naught to be done for it.

Meanwhile, Killian Jones stood at the helm, staring out into the dark night. He sought fruitlessly for the rhythmic comfort of the waves against the hull of his beloved vessel, the solid planks beneath his feet, and the cool night air brushing over his face to ease his inner turmoil. These familiar elements had soothed him many times before, yet his agitation remained as he waited, forcing himself to take steady, regular breaths.

As he stood there, alone amongst his crew, Killian’s gaze drifted towards the gray, evening-darkening horizon. A shape materialized from the gathering twilight, drawing nearer - an unmistakable bird on the wing, yet not the familiar silhouette of gull or pelican often seen at sea. Morbidly curious, Killian watched as the creature approached, strangely silent compared to the trilling calls of most avian species he knew. Its relatively small body rose and fell on the air currents, rather than gliding with ease, weaving unsteadily in its course.

Despite having recently displayed harsh temper and callousness, Killian found himself holding his breath with each flap of wings that sent the bird painstakingly higher in the sky again, inexplicably concerned it might plummet into the rolling waves below.

As if drawn by his thoughts, the bird’s flight began to descend lower and lower. The men diligently working around him on the deck - and avoiding eye contact to steer clear of his ire a second time - seemed completely unaware of the creature’s plight. Killian finally released a tight breath as the dark-feathered bundle nearly landed at his feet. Though it seemed more a collapse than a graceful landing, it had found a resting place. He did not wish to closely examine why it mattered to him whether it had succeeded or not.

Glancing around surreptitiously, Killian stooped to gather the bird into his hand, his hooked arm wrapping around to steady and secure it against his chest. He hoped the dark attire he wore would partially conceal the fragile creature. Rescuing helpless animals contradicted the brash and dangerous pirate persona he had donned irrevocably, which had grown even more dark and forbidding of late. Yet, he simply could not leave the small, fragile bird on the planks, its strength almost spent and plaintively vulnerable.

Seeing that all was as it should be, he slipped below deck without a word, carrying the strange passenger in his arms into his cabin. Closing the door firmly behind him, Killian hurried to place the weakened creature on the table and lit a nearby lantern hanging from the ceiling to inspect its small form for injuries. It appeared fine, simply near the end of its endurance after a clearly long journey.

Just as when the bird was approaching the ship, he could not really understand why it mattered so much to him that the creature was alright. It did though, and so he obeyed his instincts and tried to tend to it as best he knew how. His new compatriot didn’t seem at all troubled by his admittedly anxious dithering and attempts at aid. The bird neither flapped nor made any attempt to flee. After a few full-body shakes to settle its plumage, the bird remained largely still, only moving with its breaths and blinking its dark brown eyes calmly at him, seemingly taking in its new surroundings. The creature exhibited an almost human awareness that it was safe, facing no threat from him.

As Killian watched, enthralled, the bird eventually seemed to settle enough that it tucked its head beneath its wing and appeared to fall asleep. Satisfied that his charge would be fine for a few hours, and needing to rest himself while his crew and ship were in order, Killian extinguished the lantern after preparing for bed. The churning anger and restlessness which had plagued him since boarding his ship was strangely lulled, and for the moment, he was too grateful to question it. Stretching out upon the Captain’s berth, he gave himself over to sleep, for once wrapped up enough in its comfort to be dreamless.

~~ * ~~ * ~~

Killian rose with the sun the next morning, habit waking him early enough to see the gray pre-dawn melt into the peach and pinkish glow of a clear new day. He stretched his lanky frame, washed and dressed before moving to the table to check on his unexpected guest. As he neared the makeshift nest he had created, he was surprised to see his small stowaway still appeared to be asleep. Startled by how calm the bird continued to be in such confined surroundings, Killian merely smiled tightly, his hand unconsciously rubbing his chest. He tried not to dwell on why the peaceful sight of a bird resting on the table in one of his old rags lifted his spirits so, as if the whole cabin felt less lonely in its presence.

He had a litany of his usual tasks to attend to, and he knew the rest of his crew would soon be active - if they were not already. Killian exited the cabin swiftly, hoping nothing would disturb the creature until it was restored enough to wake on its own, once the heavy sound of his boots against the wooden planks faded away.

However, he couldn’t avoid one quick stop before heading topside. Killian was pleased to see Turley, the ship’s cook, alone in the kitchen. He ducked beneath the low door frame and cleared his throat to get the grizzled man’s attention amidst the numerous pots and pans bubbling and sizzling on the stovetop.

“Mornin’ Cap’n,” Turley offered, with a gap-toothed smile. “What can I get ye?”

Killian lowered his voice, stepping closer to the aging cook as he explained that the rations he sought were not for himself, but for the seabird he had rescued the evening before. As he pondered why the bird’s fate concerned him, Killian found himself unsure why he felt compelled to hide his anxiety for the small animal. Anyone daring to question or mock him would regret it – if not immediately, soon enough. Was he questioning himself then?

He discarded the thought almost as soon as it entered his mind. Turley seemed pleased with his captain’s request, assuring him they still had some canned herring in their stores which he could fetch after the noon meal. Killian nodded approvingly and thanked Turley before turning to leave. Just as he did, Turley added, “Sounds like you found a storm petrel, Cap’n.”

“Oh, aye?” Killian asked, tilting his head with renewed interest, despite his desire not to seem overeager.

“Indeed, for how you have described it anyways, Sir. They’re quite rare in these parts, or so’s I’ve always heard. They tend to nest much further north, preferrin’ the cold.”

Killian nodded his understanding but remained silent, encouraging Turley’s talkative nature with a patient gaze. He was rewarded when Turley continued without pause.

“There’re many folks who consider ‘em an evil omen, Cap’n. Portents of storms and such like, but they’re such wee buggers, them petrels. I always wondered meself if they weren’t just allowin’ the winds to blow them to safety rather than heraldin’ the blast.”

Killian shook his head with begrudging humor. Even after nearly three years leading a crew of pirates rather than the formal naval sailors they had once been, he was continually surprised by their superstitious beliefs. They claim to be black-hearted, fearless outlaws, yet frightfully unwilling to take a woman aboard (even Milah at the beginning), sail under the red morning sun, or set out on a Friday.. All due to tall tales of downfall and destruction. It was just a bird, wind-rattled and knocked off-course, needing to regain its strength; certainly not some ill stroke of luck.

“I heartily agree with you, mate,” Killian said when Turley’s words trailed off, giving him a clap on the shoulder before leaving the galley. “I appreciate you finding the herring. I’ll be back for it once lunch has been cleared.”

Turley assented readily and turned back to his task, humming idly. The Captain seemed in a better state of mind than he’d been in since losing his hand, and witnessing his love’s death. To Turley it seemed nothing but good luck, and he was simply glad for it.

~~ * ~~ * ~~

Feeding the petrel at noon was a more awkward and messier business than Killian had anticipated; first he was struggling to open the sealed tin with just one hand, then handling the pungent small fish and their juices in his attempts to coax the bird to eat. Once it snatched the first bit in its delicate, curved bill, however, no more coddling was necessary. Soon, the petrel was grasping tiny herring right from the can, swallowing chunks as fast as it could manage. It emitted a rough sort of squawk in his direction once it finished its meal. Chuckling, Killian could certainly admit it was no nightingale’s song, but he chose to see it as an enthusiastic thanks all the same.

“I’m afraid that’s all for now, you shameless beggar,” he chided gently while clearing the empty tin away and wiping the table clean. To his surprise, the bird stepped nearer, lightly pecking at his fingers, almost playfully or in gratitude, not at all sharply enough to hurt. Holding his breath, Killian turned his hand open and palm up; the petrel nuzzled against his warm skin. Improbable as it seemed, the gesture could almost be called affectionate.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” the pirate murmured, scratching one finger lightly over the bird’s dark gray cap. He chose to ignore how his voice sounded equally fond.

When he returned that evening, the shadows outside his cabin’s windows were already long, and the sun had long sunk in the west. After its performance at midday, Killian was sure the petrel would be hungry again and eagerly awaiting its dinner. Yet, upon entering his cabin with canned anchovies, hoping they would not prove too salty for his animal guest, he found the bird absent from the center table altogether. Instead, it flitted for one spot to another at the desk in the room’s far corner near the window. It fluttered, then paused to alight upon the various open books strewn over the surface, cooking its tiny head and peering down intently at the pages. Had Killian not known better, he would have thought it was actually reading the words in Liam’s beloved tomes.

By this point, Kilian was charmed by the petrel’s odd antics, his lips stretching into an ill-accustomed smile as he watched before he moved to lay out his offering. The dark cloud that had hung over him before the bird’s arrival had dissipated. Though he couldn’t explain why, Killian welcomed the lighter mood, hoping it signified better days to come.

The petrel let out its brash trill a few more times before fluttering over to feed quickly on the anchovy, as enthusiastically as it had eaten the herring. Upon finishing, however, it did not relax as it had done previously. Instead, it flitted across the room, hovering near the window and making its distinctive call. The bird then fluttered around Killian’s head and shoulders before returning to the window, its desire for freedom as clear as if it had spoken the words aloud.

“Of course, little one,” Killian sighed reluctantly, no longer embarrassed about speaking to it as if it were human. “Naturally you would wish to return to the air.”

As he opened the window pane, the bird uttered a softer note, unlike its previous raucous cries. Killian smiled ruefully as he watched it slip through the opening and fly away. He had never considered refusing to let it go free; still, he missed the petrel’s presence in his cabin almost immediately. It might have been only a lost bird, but for a flicker of time, he felt a connection, a kinship, that had been sorely lacking in his life.

Yet, to Killian’s pleased astonishment, it was far from the last he would see of the storm petrel. While he would have expected the bird to be gone, never to return again, as days and weeks at sea went by, the small bird reappeared often - usually at first light, near the wheel where Killian was often steering, taking the night’s last watch upon himself as captain to be certain all was well when the Jolly was perhaps most vulnerable. After his intriguing initial encounter with his new feathered friend, he had learned that petrels were largely nocturnal and - like pirates and sailors themselves - rarely came ashore unless nesting. Again, that strange sense of kindred closeness swept over him; more than he had known for entirely too long. He had also learned that pairs of storm petrels were largely monogamous, and he could not help but wonder if the small gray co-pilot had lost its mate, leading it to return to the ship and humans where it had been shown kindness, strange as the attachment might seem. At any rate, once “his” petrel had begun to make recurrent appearances, Killian deliberately took the shift which found him at the helm when dawn’s first light crept over the horizon.

Though wise enough not to voice any notice or question him, the more observant and early-rising members of Captain Jones’ crew began to notice the bird’s repeated arrivals at the wheel near their captain. It seemed the small creature came solely to visit Jones and to snag a brief ride perched on the ship’s side, the sea breeze rustling its feathers until it either fluttered below deck to follow Killian at the end of his watch or took to the sky again.. Killian naturally sought to avoid seeming overly fond or doting on the petrel. For the leader of a band of miscreants and outlaws who lived a rough life by their wits and the sweat of their brows, it was dangerous indeed to show any sort of weakness. Any appearance of “going soft” could be a death sentence if his crew began to doubt his capabilities because of it.

All the same, those who worked nearby sometimes saw glimpses of his twinkling eyes or more mischievous smiles from time to time - things that had seemed lost to the past before the bird’s arrival. The cabin boy Killian had taken aboard at a port several months before - to save him from a life of abuse and privation - sometimes thought he heard snatches of the Captain singing or humming shanties under his breath when the petrel was present at Killian’s side. The boy’s loyalty, however, was unassailable and absolute. He’d never dream of breathing a word.

This continued for some time, the petrel’s comings and goings becoming an expected part of the rhythm aboard the Jolly Roger. Its diminutive gray form and rapid flight over the nearby waves became an easily recognizable sight to all who sailed upon the ship. What was more, the bird’s presence was gratefully welcomed - Captain Jones was less volatile and less prone to strike out against those who displeased him.

If the petrel had not yet proven its worth to any sailors reluctant to accept it, then one stormy night it would have silenced any doubts once and for all…

They had not taken an enemy vessel in some time, and the cargo taken in their most recent haul had been offloaded at the last port nearly two days prior. It was a good thing, too, because as shadows began to lengthen in late afternoon, wind whipped up wildly, frothing the waves and rocking the ship violently. The extra weight of a full cargo might have caused them to take on a frightening amount of water as the hull rose and fell. 

At first, the men manned their posts with calm determination. A storm at sea was always serious, easily spelling the difference between life and death in how one met its ravages. They had faced many such squalls, and Jones guided them through with an indefinable but comforting mix of experience and assurance. This gale, however, seemed different, bent on their destruction as the walls of water rose and then dropped the Jolly as though it were a toy in a child’s bathtub. As they dipped, the rising swells threatened to pour over the sides and sink them permanently. The crew gripped their ropes or boards, holding tightly to whatever piece they manned, but more and more fervently sending prayers for mercy to Poseidon, Davy Jones, or the sirens that would greet them below the surface.

Amidst the rolling chaos, the rapid beating of wings swept low over their heads as a dark,  familiarly recognizable form sailed across the deck and landed heavily, talons clinging to the worn leather on Killian’s shoulder. Though it had clearly fought mightily against the drafts, their petrel was claiming its place heedless of the danger.

Hardly able to acknowledge the delicate weight where it roosted at his side, even nearer than usual, Killian quickly raised his hook from the spokes of the wheel, brushing its curve over the bird’s downy underbelly in a single stroke of greeting. The bird trilled and seemed almost to rub its head against his rough cheek in affection. The exchange lasted only a moment, and in their heightened anxiety, few, if any, bore witness. Then, Killian gripped the wheel tightly once more with hand and hook, roaring out orders and encouragement, exhorting the men not to give up the fight, though the storm raged on and endurance flagged.

The petrel, not content to merely watch and ride along, was hardly finished - nor did it perch silently idle. Instead, it took to the air again, if only just, fluttering rapidly about the captain’s head, repeating its sharp, strident call, almost in his ear, and making itself nigh impossible to ignore. At first, Killian instinctively waved his hand to ward off its advances, calling out in consternation at its unusual behavior. However, it quickly became clear the tiny bird’s determined efforts would not falter.

Brow furrowed in thought, Killian squinted in concentration at his companion, finally sensing that it was trying to tell him something. Swiping the driving rain from his vision, Killian gave in and murmured low under his breath, “Alright, little one, I understand. What is it you wish to show me?”

Again, reacting as if it understood his every word, the petrel chirruped a sort of agreement and took flight again. It had to dip and bob against the lashing wind and rain in order to stay aloft, but it flapped madly, its wings battling back against the heaves of the storm. Valiantly, it hovered within sight, just ahead of the ship’s bow and almost seemed to look back expectantly, as if asking whether or not he meant to follow its lead.

Despite the tension in his shoulders, the worry and responsibility weighing upon him as the storm attempting to break them apart and bear the pieces to the depths, Killian couldn’t hold back a huff of laughter at the bird’s assumed insistence. “Aye, we’re with you,” he uttered aloud, turning the wheel just slightly to accommodate the direction in which the petrel led, shaking his head in disbelief even as he did so. It seemed a mite crazy, true enough, and yet birds survived the wild, its brutal conditions and weather, all the time. And what other chance of survival did they have at this point if the tempest didn’t slake soon? He could not see the way before them clearly enough to navigate by any of his normal methods. At the end of the day, they were all at the whim of Mother Nature, whatever their skill or experience, so the chance or fate that had brought this small creature to him and the feeling in his gut that urged him on seemed as good a course to follow as any.

Some few further agonizing minutes followed, as they still rose and fell in the grip of rolling waves. The entire crew seemed to hold their breath as the ship bobbed and soared, up and down, over and again, eyes riveted on the dark clouds and forks of lightning ahead of them and straining to glimpse in time the jagged rocks that lurked portending their doom.

Slowly, and yet more and more certainly as they persisted, the wild rocking, the careening to and fro, lessened, as though the churning water itself had begun to loosen its massive grip. They were moving into miraculously calmer waters, Killian noted with a breath of relief. The storm still howled around them, but in a bright flash of lightning, he saw that the ship had entered the sheltered lea of a hidden cove. The tall rock faces rising on either side as the Jolly sailed into their cover lessened the buffeting of the waves and allowed the ship to maintain its ballance once again. He would not have seen the entrance with the elements obscuring vision as they’d been - not without the petrel. It had led them to safety.

As if on cue, the bird came to rest atop the wheel, perching on the curve of wood between the two spokes where his hand and hook were placed. Blinking placidly, it seemed to look at him with a bit of pride before cooing softly and burrowing hits head and beak under its wing to snatch a moment’s well-earned rest.

Nodding and allowing himself a look around to take stock, Killian saw the reassurance on his crew’s faces as all realized they had made it through. Killian called out a few orders to check various parts of the sip for any damages and make certain the ship would stay in place until the storm blew itself out. This petrel with its almost sentient ability to sense when it was needed, come to his aid, and raise his spirits, would always have a safe place to rest with them on the Jolly Roger.

~~*~~*~~

Until the day it didn’t return.

The storm petrel had taken to arriving regularly every two or three days, wherever they might be sailing or how much distance they had covered, but then one evening it failed to appear. It didn’t come that night, or the next. Soon a week had passed, and still it didn’t come back to the Jolly, worrying Killian more than he dared let on.

He could not simply drop anchor and wait, nor could he leave his post, his men, and his ship, to search for his tiny companion - far dearer than even a pet could ever be. He had no way to call the bird; it had always come to him of its own accord and in its own time… but it had never stayed away for so long.

His men noticed as well, whispering amongst themselves when the Captain began taking his evening meals alone at night rather than joining them in the galley, when the door to his cabin slammed with such heavy finality that all knew it was a barrier not to be crossed until the Captain emerged again. They shook their heads in dismay when orders were bellowed more harshly or conversations were more clipped and terse. Killian Jones was too diligent a man to shirk his duties or lead them astray, yet all felt his unease and knew its cause. Many of them were aware enough to know the petrel had saved them from the storm, just as Killian did, and had grown to enjoy its visits and watch for it in their own ways. Its absence had stretched on long enough that it seemed clear something must have happened to the poor bird - not that any would say such to the Captain.

Turley and the cabin boy were the only ones genuinely close enough to ask Killian about it, and the youngster only dared question hesitantly one night as he brought the Captain his dinner tray if he had seen his gray bird lately. The dulled acceptance in his expected denial bowed the boy’s head and forestalled any further inquiry.

But that night, as young Billy left, Killian heard a light rapping sound at the small window above his bunk. Even knowing better, his heart leapt with a small flicker of hope. It was the portal by which his petrel had entered and left his cabin so many times. Scuffling and scratching followed, so weak and soft as to have gone unheard if he hadn’t been sitting alone and quiet at his desk. Hustling to the window, Killian unlatched it and carefully opened the glass pane.

To his astonishment and joy, quickly followed by rapid alarm, the storm petrel toppled from its weary perch on the windowsill and landed on the ledge just inside the room. Its tiny frail quivered, its little feathered breast rising and falling rapidly. It wasn’t a large bird to begin with; Turley’s familiar voice echoed in Killian’s head at the thought, needlessly rambling about petrels being some of the widest ranging seabirds known to man, despite being naught bigger than swallows. ‘Hardy little critters, they are,’ Killian could still hear the cook yammering internally until he finally shook his head clear. What he needed to do now was ascertain what the bird needed and what he could do to help.

Having been small already, the petrel looked terribly frail on the dusty, cushioned ledge amidst heavy tomes, navigation tools, and the other detritus of several years. It was obvious the poor creature had not been eating and was wasting away half-starved as a result. Along with that, it was soaked, its feathers in bedraggled disarray and missing in places. The bird lay still for so long without uttering any sound or even trying to right itself of explore the space that Killian feared for a horrible moment that it must be near death.

Peering closer with careful, gentle movements, he saw that the petrel was injured as well as weakened. Not immediately apparent because of how ruffled in was in general, Killian noted that its wing was bent at an awkward angle along its side rather than folded up properly in repose.

The bird hardly lifted its head as Killian stroked one finger down its back, hoping to soothe and offer even the tiniest bit of comfort. Striding urgently across the room, he swung the cabin door open, calling urgently down the hall for Whale, the ship’s doctor, to come on the double; he was needed in the Captain’s quarters.

Whirling to re-enter the room, Killian’s eyes quickly passed over the space, noting the crust of his bread left from supper and the seeds which had been baked atop it still littering the plate. He brought it quickly to his patient, then poured some water for the pitched by his washstand into the empty saucer which had held soup, hoping he might coax the petrel to eat even a morsel and gain some nourishment.

Next, he grasped a plush cotton dressing gown, hanging untouched on the door of his closest, purposefully out of easy sight. It had been Milah’s favorite to wrap up in after the rare luxury of a bath, and the sight of it or the feel of its material beneath his fingers had wrung his heart until now, bringing the hot, raging need for vengeance back to the fore. He was suddenly glad he had not parted with it though. He didn’t dare jostle the injured bird overmuch for fear of hurting it further. But while he couldn’t rub it down to dry it fully, he could tuck the robe’s downy layers around it and warm its shivering frame.

“There now, little one,” he crooned gently. “Take a bit of food and catch your breath. You’re safe now…” his voice caught and he swallowed before adding, “We’ll put you back to rights, don’t fret.”

Killian didn’t actually know if a ship’s surgeon could set a bird’s wing as he would a human man’s broken arm, but he could hear Whale’s footsteps pounding down the hall toward his cabin, and knew he would find out soon. Before Whale - or anyone else - could arrive to see him, Killian bent to carefully lean over the bird’s small form, not sure what possessed him, but following the instinct before he could question it. As delicately as possible for someone who’d had no cause for gentility in longer than he could remember, for just one breath, one single heartbeat, he brought his lips to the bird’s tiny head. Maybe it was brought on by some long-buried memory of his own mother, lost to his mind’s eye other than a voice whose soothing singing sometimes echoed in his sleep, but the kiss seemed an offering to ease fever pain and fear with hope and good wishes.

It was the barest brush contact - a mere moment’s touch - but the air in the room abruptly changed. Something seemed to shrink and then expand; the atmosphere held its breath. Glittering rainbow hues flashed in front of his eyes, and Killian jerked backwards in alarm. The petrel’s shape went a bit hazy as Killian strained to understand what was happening right before his eyes, and then his small friend began to grow and change, forcing him to take a few more stunned steps backward and wonder if he had somehow hit his head and addled his brain. His accustomed companion was transforming even as he watched.

He heard a shout as Whale - and probably a few curious others too - came to a halt behind him. Exclamations of awe and surprise were heard but left unacknowledged over his shoulder. Killian blinked, trying be sure he could trust his vision and to reconcile what shouldn’t be possible, but sat before him.

Where the storm petrel had lay near death just seconds ago, stood a blushing, beautiful young woman. She was equally soaked to the skin, long blonde hair plastered to her head and shoulders. Her lithe, slender frame trembled where she stood clutching the dressing gown around her tightly. Still, there was something about her eyes as she stared back at him silently; something that he knew deep within despite never having seen her before.

She cocked her head curiously, as if she too was trying to understand where she was and what had happened. With that motion, Killian knew without a shadow of a doubt. This young woman had been his petrel; his long lost avian friend was this lovely woman. He didn’t know how it was possible, but he was absolutely certain. And he was drawn to her just as he had been to her former guise. She took a cautious step toward him, and he held out a hand to draw her near and hold her close. Whatever had brought them together, whatever magic was at work, she was the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld.

~~*~~*~~

By the time rays of morning sunlight came slanting down the walls inside Killian’s cabin, he and his soulmate - he knew that now - had talked the whole night through. She was no longer a storm petrel but a princess what had been cursed to take on avian form, and his act of True Love - aware of it or not - had set her free. The jealous witch who’d cast the spell had falsely believed the princess was luring her chosen partner away rather than accept that he had a roving eye. Petrels were a migratory species, keeping her far from all she knew and loved - and of course, unable to speak or gain help for her affliction. For hours they sat side-by-side on his bunk, hands clasped tightly as this woman - Emma, her name was Emma - told him what she’d experience ever since the curse took hold, shifting her very reality to something unfathomable. Tears pooled in her eyes, glistening on her lashes, both while recounting her own trials, and then again while listening to the betrayal and loss that had shaken Killian’s world to its foundations as well.

The connection between them from Emma’s first appearance on his ship drew them ever closer as they talked, and touched, and inevitably joined in another kiss. This time it was two souls meeting on equal footing, and they drank deeply of the perfection that shook them each to the core. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way; the two of them bound to meet long before they ever knew. Neither could explain the pull, but it also couldn’t be denied.

As they went topside the next morning and Killian began to introduce her to an eagerly enthusiastic crew, he didn’t even try to explain, but simply savored the moment, thrilled that all the heartache and pain had finally brought him there, with Emma at his side. Her smaller frame tucked seamlessly into his side as she beamed at his new ally and charmed them one and all.

When they stood at the wheel - just the two of them again at last - Killian behind her, his arms encircling her as he steered the ship, he felt the same joy he had when she’d kept him company perched on the wheel so many times before, but magnified exponentially now that they could fully communicate and understand one another. With the salt air in their faces and the horizon in view, they set sail - a happy new beginning stretching out ahead of them.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @cssns @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @anmylica @scientificapricot @xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @lenfaz @jonesfandomfanatic

@eastwesthomeisbest @grimmswan @stahlop @belovedcreation @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic

@winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @caught-in-the-filter @resident-of-storybrooke

@the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @goforlaunchcee @mie779 @kday426 @iamstartraveller776

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

CS Winter Bingo--Square 6 (bundled up for the cold): A Match Faked for Christmas, ch. 5 of 5

Hi there and happy holiday season!  In an attempt to continue procrastinating my season 4 rewatch drabbles–and to not feel guilty about it–I decided to participate in the CS Winter Bingo event.  I received nine winter/holiday related prompts arranged in a square like a bingo card.  My mission is to make a bingo by writing at least three of my prompts before winter is over, but I’m hoping to do better than that!  I’m hoping to finish all nine!  Given the nature of the event, you can expect a lot of fluff (but then what else would you expect from me, after all?)  I’m hoping to keep them short as well, but I’m usually not nearly as successful at that.  And without further ado, let’s play CS Winter Bingo!

Rating: G

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list):

@jennjenn615 @laschatzi @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @kmomof4

@linda8084 @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82

@therooksshiningknight @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @anmylica

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

Word count: 2071

Today’s prompt: Fake Dating: Holiday Edition

Other chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma closed her door and then sunk back against it.  She was so epically, massively screwed!

After THE KISS (she couldn’t help but think of it in all caps), she and Killian had left the party rather hastily.  Ruby’s catcalls and innuendos about what they were off to do ringing in their ears.  They’d walked in silence across the street, and it wasn’t until they were in front of her door that Killian hesitantly spoke.

“Swan, perhaps we should talk about what just–”

She cut him off with a huge, exaggerated yawn, stretching her arms over her head to complete the effect.  “I’m exhausted.  I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Nevermind that it was only 8:30 pm.  She had to get away.  Had to.  She couldn’t have this conversation now.

She saw the disappointment flash in his eyes for a moment, and then it disappeared.  He took a step away and pasted a determined smile on his face.  “Good night Swan.  Sweet dreams.”

She assumed he headed back to his own house then, but she couldn’t know for sure.  She didn’t wait around to find out, merely let herself into her own home as quickly as she could.

And now here she was.

Emma was running.  She knew she was.  That kiss had been….she didn’t even know how to describe it.  It was addictive.  It made the whole party fall away.  There was no one else in the world but her and Killian at that moment.  She’d swear she’d heard bells ringing, angels singing, felt a bright, warm light cover them in glory.  She was pretty sure she’d touched heaven.

Emma groaned.  This was not her. She was mentally spouting so many cliches, she’d have probably made Mary Margaret blush.  What was Killian doing to her?

There had only been one time in her life that she’d fallen so fast and so hard for a guy.  She’d been sixteen when a much-older Neal had convinced her that she mattered.  That she was loved. That she had found home and forever and all of that crap.

And then he’d taught her a lesson she’d never forget.  He’d not only left her, he’d literally left her holding the bag for his own crimes.  Sent her to the slammer for almost a year.

What she’d learned?  Love was a myth.  Forever was a fairytale people told themselves to make themselves feel better in the midst of their crap lives.

Her brief relationship with Walsh years later–which had ended when he had an affair with a woman who had a truly bizarre fettish for flying monkeys–had only cemented her belief.

She really knew how to pick them, didn’t she?

And so she’d vowed to protect her heart.  Look out for yourself and you’ll never get hurt.  How had she let Killian slip past her defenses so thoroughly in only a week?

If she let this continue, if she didn’t cut things off cold turkey now, when things went south with Killian, it was going to hurt like a son of a bitch.

Something told her it might already be too late for her.

The tears sprang to her eyes, and she let them fall, as she moved away from the door, heading toward her master suite.  She’d take a long, hot bath, and then go to bed, and tomorrow….tomorrow she’d avoid him like the plague–and she’d keep it up until she got him out of her system.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She was woken bright and early Christmas morning by the ringing of her doorbell.  Emma groaned, covered her head with a pillow and tried to ignore it.  Maybe whoever it was would get the hint and go away.

Riiiiiing!  Knock!

No such luck.

Breathing threats and murder, she tossed off the covers and padded to the door.  A woosh of cold air greeted her as she opened it, and he was there, covered in a thin coat of snow, wearing a delighted grin and bearing a steaming mug of something that smelled of coffee and chocolate and peppermint.

“Merry Christmas, Swan!” he said delightedly!

Unbidden, her eyes traveled to his lips and her heart stuttered.

It turned her annoyance into something approaching rage.  “Killian, we’ve talked about what happens when people wake me up at the butt crack of dawn.”

He grinned mischievously as he pushed past her into her home, blew out a breath and muttered something about the cold.  “Indeed.  I believe the consensus was that my murder could be avoided by bribing you with hot, festive beverages.”

She smiled in spite of herself.  Couldn’t help it.  How he managed to convey both childlike wonder, devilish mischief and steaming sexiness all at the same time was a mystery to her.

“I really should just kick you out on your ass, you know,” she said, her voice conveying affectionate exasperation.

He shrugged, handed her the mug and began the long process of removing hats and scarves and gloves and coat.  She barked a laugh at the sight of the ugly Christmas sweater beneath.  It depicted a pirate ship full of festively clad pirates singing “Yo, ho, ho, ho!  Merry Christmas!”

The ridiculous garment seemed to break whatever was left of the tension between them, and easily, almost effortlessly, they fell into the pattern they’d been following for the past week–talking and laughing and simply enjoying each other’s company.  Emma made him pancakes and he cleaned up after them.

She’d been afraid the next time she saw Killian, he’d insist on continuing the conversation he’d started when they parted the night before.  She’d been afraid he’d insist they talk about THE KISS and what it meant and where they went from there.  Instead, he seemed to have judiciously chosen to ignore it; pretend it had never happened.

But it was there, always there between them, an unspoken presence both delightful and terrifying.  They’d have to talk about it eventually, Emma knew that, but today was Christmas Day.  That was a conversation for another day.

“Forgive me for stating the obvious, Swan,” he said, after their breakfast was over, “but it snowed last night.”

She grinned.  “I noticed.  Looks like we got quite a bit.”

“I bet there’s at least 6 inches out there and it’s still coming down!”  A child who’d just found out he had a snow day from school couldn’t have sounded more excited.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you like snow?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he said.  “It’s pretty and it’s fun…and then when you come in from the snow, you get to warm up.”

He wiggled his eyebrows in exaggerated flirtation at that, and she laughed.

“So how about it, Swan?” he said.  “What say we build a snowman?”

“A snowman?” she said with a grin.  “Killian, I haven’t built a snowman since I was like ten.”

“Well then’d I’d say you’re past due, love.”

“It’s cold!” she whined.

“We can bundle up,” he wheedled.  “Come on Swan!  If you can’t act like a child on Christmas morning, when can you?”

She felt the last of her resistance fading, and she sighed exaggeratedly.  “Fine! But if I get frostbite, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

There was that smolder again.  “Never fear, Swan.  I’m more than capable of keeping you warm and keeping frostbite at bay.”

She shivered in reaction, her gaze moving once more to his lips, currently ticked up in a saucy smile.  Good lord, the man was going to be the death of her, but what a way to die!

Five minutes later, clad in two hats, a pair of gloves topped by a pair of mittens, a fluffy red scarf and her heaviest coat, Emma headed outside with her neighbor.

After building not one but two snowpeople, (Emma insisted that the second one was a snowwoman.  It was only fair.) Emma had stepped back to admire their work.  A moment later she felt a snowball pelt her in the middle of the back.

“Oh no you did not!” she said, grinning and then stopping down to fashion her own missile.

“I’m afraid I did, love,” he grinned utterly unrepentant.  “The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

What she did about it was fire a snowball directly into his (far too handsome) face.

And with that an all out snowball war broke out, but never was a war fought with more laughter or playful taunts.  Ten minutes later, Emma picked up her newly made snowball and ran full tilt toward Killian.  Just before reaching him, she slipped, falling directly into him.  Her momentum toppled him, and the long and short of it was Emma found herself sprawled on top of Killian, both breathing hard, both looking into the other’s face with intensity.

The desire to lean down and kiss the hell out of him was so strong, it took everything inside Emma to pull away, wipe the desire from her face and offer him a hand up.

He looked disappointed for a fraction of a second before the grin returned.  “Truce?” he asked, offering her his hand.

“Only if you make me some more of that hot cocoa you brought that first day.”

“Done!” he said.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few minutes later, Emma sat at her counter, watching as Killian puttered around her kitchen preparing the requisite cocoa.  I’m gonna miss this, she thought as she watched him stir.

A pang went through her at the thought.  How was she going to go back to her boring, ordinary life before Killian?  It was like The Wizard of Oz–how Dorothy lived in a world of black and white, and didn’t even realize it until she’d gotten to Oz and suddenly saw all the colors.

How did one come back from that?

What if….what if she didn’t?  What if she let this thing between them play out?

The thought scared her…but so did the thought of cutting him out of her life completely.  Could she trust him?  Was she willing to take the leap of faith and find out?

“Swan?” Killian asked tentatively as he set a steaming mug of cocoa before her.  “That’s quite a tragic look.  What’s troubling you?”

She took a long swig of the sweet, creamy liquid, buying herself time, but finally she decided the time to be a coward was at an end.  She met his eyes.  “It’s Christmas, so I guess that means we’ll need to ‘break up’ soon.”

Was she imagining the disappointment on his face?

“The thing is,” she said, glancing away and then determinedly looking back at him.  “The thing is, I…I’m not sure I want to.”

Surprise replaced the disappointment in his eyes.  “Swan?  What are you saying?”

“I don’t know!” she burst out.  “I’m not ready for labels or making things official or whatever, but I don’t want to lose what we’ve had the last week.  There’s something there between us…at least…at least I think there is?”

His eyes gentled, and he reached over and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers.  “There is,” he answered simply. “And for my part…well, if I’m being honest, by the time I left your house on that first day I realized I was going to want more than fake dating.  Love, I know you’re afraid.  I don’t know why, although I hope you’ll tell me in time, and I haven’t wanted to push you, but if you want to know where I stand…I’m in it for the long haul.”

Emma dragged in a long breath waiting for the fear to come.  “Killian, if we start…something…between us and it goes bad, I don’t know if I’ll survive it.  Not again.”

He brought his free hand to cup her face, letting her hair trail through his fingers in the gesture.  “Emma, I don’t know the future.  I don’t know what lies before us, but I can tell you this.  I’ll always, always be at your side.  I’m all in.”

She looked intently into his eyes, searching for lies, searching for deception.  She found none.  “Then,” she said, meeting his eyes.  “Then I am too.”

His smile rivaled the sun that had just broken through the clouds, and then he leaned in and kissed her.

Six months later, David and Mary Margaret received a “save the date” for Emma and Killian’s wedding, coming up on the following Christmas Eve.

David figured there would be no living with her after this.

The End!

[snowbellewells]

@kmomof4 Even having beta read it, I'm so excited to see it get to different points in posting so that everyone else can enjoy it too (and so I can go back and re-read it! ;p) You've outdone yourself once again. And everyone else - I really hope you're going on this adventure Krystal is taking us on!! What a ride!!

X Never Ever Marks the Spot - A Birthday Fic for @zaharadessert Ch. 5 The Ark

We are back with more adventure and danger!!! All I have to say is...

Please go give @snowbellewells and @suwya all the love for their artwork up above!! Thank you so much, ladies!!!! And thank you to @hollyethecurious for the title and being my secret grammar weapon.

Rating: M for smut and scary moments

Words: 3700 of approximately 24k

Tags: Inspired by Raiders of the Lost Ark, Birthday Fic for Zahara

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Chapter

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells  @djlbg

@lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica

@laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter

@ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic

@elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90

@suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites @myfearless-love 

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 5  The Ark

Killian looked down as he was slowly being lowered into the Well of Souls. They’d dropped down several more torches that had cleared an area approximately ten feet by ten feet of any snakes. But as he swung back and forth on his way down, the thundering of his heart nearly drowned out Aladdin’s voice up above encouraging his men to be slow and careful as they lowered him. He couldn’t take his eyes off the nest of vipers below, their angry hissing growing louder the closer he got to them. 

Suddenly, he fell the last ten or so feet, coming face to face with a reared and hooded cobra ready to strike. Killian stared for a moment, his limbs frozen as pure terror flooded his brain. The cobra didn’t move, and with short, jerky movements, Killian slowly raised himself up until he finally stood on his feet.

As soon as he did, he picked up the large canister of kerosene they’d lowered earlier and started pumping to prepare it to spray on his unwanted companions. 

“Aladdin, get down here,” he called, when he saw that his friend had yet to begin his journey to the floor beside him. The serpents moved away from him quickly as he sprayed them, but they weren’t fast enough as Killian tossed one of the torches at them and watched them light up. With that tangle of snakes now a smelly barbeque, Killian could breathe just a little bit easier as he waited for Aladdin to join him. Once he did, they moved the remaining torches along the path they needed to take to a raised platform where stood a stone monolith - quite bigger than, but roughly the shape of, the fabled Ark of the Covenant. 

They approached slowly, fully taken over by awe at what they were possibly beholding. Killian drew closer and reverently laid his hand on the stone top. He moved around to the side, Aladdin taking the opposite, and braced himself to try and lift the block of stone.

“On the count of three,” Killian whispered, normal speech seeming almost sacrilege to the profound moment upon them.

“One, two, three,” he counted. 

They girded themselves and strained mightily until with a crash that Killian feared would have brought the Nazis down on them were it during the daylight hours, the stone covering rolled away, revealing the Ark of the Covenant.

After staring dumbfounded for a few moments, they slid the carrying poles into the rings at the four corners of the ark and carefully lifted the holy object out. Slowly, they retraced their steps back to the entrance of the well. A large wooden crate waited for them when they got there. After placing the ark carefully inside, they closed the lid and prepared it to be lifted to the surface, all while keeping the serpents at bay.

“The torches are going out, Killian,” Aladdin stated, once they were sure the ark was on its way out.

“Go on,” Killian told him, “Get out of here.”

As soon the rope was dropped back down, Aladdin secured it around him and signalled to the men above to lift him out. Killian watched as his friend scrambled out of the opening above and then stared, shocked, when the rope fell to the floor next to him.

“Aladdin?” Killian cried. Looking up, he saw the grinning face of Neal Cassidy looking down at him and waving.

“Hey, Killian!” Neal called.

Killian’s inhale was a hiss. “Son of a bitch,” he murmured.

“Whatever could you be doing down there in such a nasty place?” Neal looked around him on the surface at what Killian could only assume were Aladdin and his crew, as well as his own men, in addition to the Ark inside the crate. He looked down into the well again, his smug smirk firmly in place. “Oh, I think I know.” He chuckled as the Nazi Killian had heard him conversing with the day before showed his face at the entrance. “Here we are again, Killian,” Neal continued, “What once was yours is now mine.” He glanced around the edges of the entrance to the well and mused with a touch of regret in his voice, “What a fitting end to your life’s pursuits. You’re about to become a permanent addition to this archeological find. Perhaps in a thousand years, you’ll be worth something.”

Killian grit his teeth and growled lowly at the bastard above him.

“We must be going now, Dr. Jones,” the Nazi said. “Our prize is awaited in Berlin. But I think you would enjoy some companionship down there, yes?” He motioned with his hand, and Killian could hear Emma’s voice shouting abuse at whoever held her until she was unceremoniously thrown into the entrance of the well. Her scream was abruptly cut off when she caught the head of the dragon near the top that had so frightened Aladdin earlier.

“What are you doing?” Neal shouted. “The girl was mine.”

“She is of no use to us,” the Nazi replied. “Only the mission for the Führer matters.”

“Emma,” Killian cried. “It’s alright, I’ll catch you!”

He could hear Emma whimpering above him as he tried to keep one eye on her and one eye on the snakes around him. When she was thrown in and grabbed the dragon’s head, one of her shoes fell to the ground, right on top of a mass of serpents. They hissed and crawled all over it, making Killian shudder in disgust. Suddenly, there was a loud crack as the tooth of the statue gave way and she tumbled down into his waiting arms.

“You bastard,” she shouted, smacking him on the chest. “Let go of me!” She pushed against his chest, catching him by surprise and loosening his grip just enough that she fell to the ground, only to be met by the same cobra Killian had faced when he fell. He assumed it was the same cobra, anyway. Since it was in roughly the same location as earlier. Emma scrambled away from the viper and climbed his back like a tree, screaming in terror, her legs wrapping around his waist as she struggled to get as far away from the snakes on the floor as she could. “At your feet,” she cried, pointing at several places on the floor around them.

Killian pulled her off of his back and into his arms, bridal style, when Neal called out to them again.

“We were not meant to be, Emma,” he said forlornly.

“You bastard!” she shouted in reply.

“Killian Jones,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken a word, “Goodbye.”

With his final words, Neal stood and walked away, the stone above being moved slowly back into place, until with a loud thunk, they were sealed in the Well of Souls. 

The cobra was still reared in place as Killian stared it down, hardly daring to breathe. He grabbed a torch that had just extinguished and lit it again with another torch and reached behind him to hand it to Emma. 

“Take this,” he said quietly, trying not to disturb the asps surrounding them. “Wave it at anything that slithers.”

“Oh, my God,” she muttered, “the whole place is slithering.”

Killian glanced around them, looking for anything they might be able to use to escape. His eyes sweeping over Emma, the dress she wore finally registered in his conscious thoughts.

“Nice dress,” he bit out. He wasn’t sure he was entirely successful in keeping the sarcastic bitterness out of his voice.

“Don’t you start,” she retorted, her back to him. “I was trying to escape. When Neal said he’d like to see me in it, I knew he was trying to seduce me. So I played along, trying to get him drunk so I could escape once he passed out. But that bastard with the cane showed up before he did.” 

Suddenly, Killian felt a burning sensation on his hip as Emma hollered at him. She’d seen his whip curled up at his waist and thought it was a snake. When Killian shouted and jumped away, his torch fell to the ground and caught the lace of Emma’s dress, setting it on fire.

“Ahhhhhh!” Emma screamed, as Killian grabbed the overlay and yanked as hard as he could to detach it from the rest of the gown. It tore away easily, leaving her in the satin lining that just came to her knees.

Once that crisis was averted, Killian continued scanning the well for another entrance. For something like this, even in ancient times, he thought there’d have to be a secondary entrance or exit for use in the event of a cave in.

“How’re we going to get out of here?” Emma asked, desperation dripping from her words.

“I’m working on it, I’m working on it,” he murmured.

On the far wall from where they stood, Killian could just see serpents dropping from the walls. He squinted to get a better look and could see holes in the eyes of the hieroglyphs that the snakes were using to get out of the burning desert sun and inside the cool well. A grin broke out on his face. 

“Where are you going?” Emma called as Killian laid down his torch and started to climb a statue.

“Through that wall,” he said, pointing.

“What?” 

“Get yourself ready to run,” he advised, “no matter what happens to me.”

“You’d better not be sacrificing yourself, Hook,” she cried. “The only one allowed to kill you is me. Don’t you go being all heroic trying to save me at the cost of your own life!”

Killian climbed the statue of Anubis - the Egyptian god of the afterlife - until he reached the head and was able to wedge himself between the wall and the free standing statue. He used the entire side of his body to push against the statue, until it began to rock slightly. Now able to pull his legs to his torso, Killian pushed against it with all his might. When it became clear that the statue was coming down, Killian grabbed hold and rode it until it crashed into the wall where the snakes were coming through. 

The wall was completely demolished, and Killian swung down and made his way through the dust and mummified skeletons this particular chamber contained - no snakes though, thankfully - until he found a sliver of daylight only a few feet above him and easily reached by the tumbled down stones between him and it.

He heard screams back behind him in the other chamber and hurried back to find Emma caught inside a veritable tangle of mummified bodies she’d stumbled into when she followed him through the destroyed wall.

“Emma! Emma!” he cried, reaching through the wall of decay and death surrounding her. He pulled her into his arms, her hysterical screams now muffled into his chest until they died away completely. He released her and pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked.

She couldn’t speak, but nodded her head jerkily before burrowing into his arms again, her own arms circling around his waist. Killian closed his eyes for a moment and just relished the fact that he was holding Emma in his arms and that they were both safe.

“I found a way out,” he murmured. “Come on.”

He pulled her into the other chamber and pointed upward to the daylight coming through the cracks between the stones that would have been their tomb. They climbed up, and between the two of them, they were able to push the giant stone out of place. The bright desert sun shone down on them, and they had to blink several times against the light before their eyes adjusted.

They looked down and saw that they were now facing the edge of the site. A small landing field was below them, surrounded by several trucks, and a plane with the Nazi swastika painted on its wings and tail. The propellers were already going, and Killian realized the Ark was going to be transported right away to Berlin, no matter what Neal had said.

They climbed out of the hidden chamber and ran down the side of the hill to hide behind several barrel drums of fuel. 

“They’re flying it out of here. Now,” he said, grimly. “And we’re going to be on that plane, too.”

He sprinted to the airplane and hid for a moment under one of the enormous wings, looking around to see if he’d been observed. He moved toward the back of the plane and peeked on top to see the pilot standing up in the cockpit and facing away from him. Killian quietly climbed on top of the wing, intending to surprise the pilot before taking him out, when someone behind him started calling at him in German. He turned to see a Nazi soldier who didn’t seem to realize what Killian was up to. He looked puzzled, but wasn’t raising any kind of alarm. Killian crawled back down to where the man stood on the ground and then swiftly kicked him in the face, knocking him out.

Killian turned back around toward the pilot, who was still looking away from him. He started climbing toward him when he heard a new voice calling. He turned around again, resigned, only to find a much larger man than the previous one, naked to the waist, his fists raised and ready to fight. He’d obviously seen him knock out the previous man and took it as a personal challenge. And since he’d presumably seen the way he did it, Killian wasn’t going to be able to employ the same tactic twice. He made a placating gesture with his hand and once more started back down.

From underneath the wing, Emma could see the very large bald man challenging Killian. She was supposed to be removing the wheel blocks from around the wheels of the aircraft, but she couldn’t look away as Killian climbed down and faced the man, who probably weighed at least fifty pounds more than he did. 

Killian first kicked the man in the groin, but he barely flinched and followed up with a sharp right hook to Killian’s face, knocking him flat on his ass. Blood poured from his split lip and Killian held up his hand, presumably asking for a moment to recover. The other man wasn’t having it, however, and grabbed Killian’s arm, lifting him to his feet. From her angle, Emma couldn’t see what exactly happened next, but from their positions and the loud yell from the challenger, she guessed that Killian bit him. 

Hard. 

The man flung Killian away from him, and Emma turned her attention back to what she was supposed to be doing. She tossed one set of wheel blocks off the side and ran to the other side - staying out of sight of the fighting men. Once she grabbed the second set, she looked up and saw the pilot aiming to shoot at the men, so she scrambled up behind him and swung the blocks at his head as hard as she could. She caught him in the temple and he crumpled, knocked out cold, into the cockpit and against the controls, putting the plane in motion.

Emma climbed down into the cockpit with him, trying to pull him off of the controls, but deadweight, he was too heavy and the space was too confined for her to be able to move him. Killian and the man below were still duking it out, but now they’d have to stay out of the way of the rotating wheels and the active propellers. Suddenly, the cockpit lid fell closed, trapping Emma inside with the unconscious pilot.

“Hoooooooook!” she cried. 

He probably couldn’t hear her from inside the cockpit, not with the propellers going and doing his best to avoid being a punching bag for the other man, not that he was terribly successful on that point. As Emma watched, Killian took a fist to the gut, then another to the face. 

Some distance away from the slowly rotating plane, a truck full of Nazi soldiers caught Emma’s eye. Several men stood in the back watching and shouting at Killian and the other man. Emma knew as soon as they were close enough, they’d enter the fight and Killian wouldn’t stand a chance against them all. She released the unconscious pilot and ran through the corridor from the cockpit to the gunnery station near the back of the plane. She took aim at the approaching truck and opened fire.

That drew the attention of several more soldiers, who all started running toward the plane. Emma kept them at bay with bursts of machine gun fire all while trying to keep Killian in her sights. Now he was draped across the shoulders of the other man, taking repeated blows to his side.

She shot again at another group of soldiers and inadvertently hit a supply truck, causing a massive explosion that would surely be heard and seen in the main camp. As the plane continued its slow rotation, a fuel truck entered Emma’s sight. There was a split in its side - fuel pouring to the ground - just the right height and shape of the wing of the aircraft.

“Oh, no,” she breathed as her eyes darted from the fuel truck to the burning truck about twenty feet away from it. Suddenly, Killian appeared on the ground before her. “Look out!” she shouted, pointing at the propellers that were dangerously close to where he stood. He ducked and disappeared and appeared again on the other side before climbing up on the wing, trying to get to her. But the other man wasn’t finished with Killian yet and climbed up as well on the other side.

One punch sent Killian back to the ground and out of Emma’s sight. She ran back toward the cockpit, hoping to be able to see him from there. It seemed an eternity before the movement of the plane brought him into her sight again. He was flat on the ground, looking toward his adversary, a look of horror on his face. When Emma caught sight of the other man, she could see why. He was underneath the wing, his back to the rapidly advancing propellers. She covered her eyes just as the man turned around and was sliced apart, blood and gore spewing everywhere.

She opened her eyes again to see Killian right outside the cockpit, shouting instructions at her.

“Turn it there,” he cried.

“It’s stuck,” she screamed back.

“Nevermind. Get back, get back,” he admonished her before he took aim with his pistol and shot the locking mechanism open. He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her up to him. There was no time for joyous reunions now, not with the river of fuel nearly to the exploded truck. They jumped down from the plane and ran for their lives away from the destroyed trucks, away from the moving but unmanned airplane, away from their certain death.

Explosions followed them as they ran, and Emma chanced a glance behind them to see the fuel truck and the airplane now engulfed in flames and black smoke. Killian jerked her in another direction, bringing her attention back in front of them and dragged her into an empty tent, far enough away from the destruction of the airfield that they were safe, but still close enough to see what was happening there. They watched from inside their shelter as Neal appeared with the Nazi officer by his side. He stopped just outside their tent, his back to them, and looked around at the devastation they’d left behind them.

“Jones,” Killian could hear him mutter. He and the Nazi captain stalked toward the airfield with Aladdin not far behind them suddenly appearing outside their hiding place. Killian wasted no time and blew a distinctive whistle that he and his friend had shared many years ago during their graduate studies. 

Aladdin stopped after hearing the whistle he hadn’t heard in years and turned toward the tent just behind him, moving slowly until he could peer inside. 

“Killian! Emma!” he exclaimed, excitedly, “My friends! I’m so pleased you are not dead!”

“So are we,” Killian laughed. “And you! How did you escape them? When they left us inside the well?”

“Killian, there is no time,” Aladdin continued. “While they were concerned with you two, I was able to sneak away and have just kept my head down since. But I overheard Cassidy and Grünmager talking and they are loading the Ark into a truck and will fly it out of Cairo.”

Aladdin led them out of the tent and to a ridge above the camp where they could see the crate containing the Ark and the truck that would transport it to Cairo. Soldiers lifted it into the truck, and when the Egyptian laborers got too close, machine gun fire pushed them back. From their position, they could see Neal strutting along the side of the truck to an open air car ahead of it, which already contained the Nazi captain, the man with the cane, and a driver.

“Let’s go,” he shouted as he climbed in. The vehicles all started and began to move. Killian turned to Aladdin.

“Get back to Cairo,” he said. “Find us transport to England. Plane, boat, anything. Meet me at Omar’s. Be ready for me.”

Aladdin nodded. “What will you do?” he asked.

“I’m going after that truck.”

“How?” Emma asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I’m making this up as I go along. Stay with Aladdin,” he said, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her hard. “He’ll keep you safe.”

“You be safe, too,” she whispered.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Swan,” he said, a lopsided smile on his face. “You know I’m a survivor.”

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! We'll be back on Monday!

[writingmochi]

cast: drummer!jake ✗ videographer!fem.reader (ft. enhypen and &team’s 02 liners, katseye's sophia, and other idols)

synopsis: all jaeyun felt behind his drum kit is pride as his band ends another concert of the tour. then, his mind trails back towards you once again, the videographer recording their performance from the sidelines: the one he always ends his nights with. but when a short break before the last tour stop results in you trembling in his arms; your presence slowly dwindles away from him, making him wrestle with his feelings for you.

genre: coming of age, drama, romance, rock band au, musician on tour au, friends with benefits au, very angsty, fluff, mature content (explicit smut, traumatic experience), set in the same universe as my txt's soobin fic subterranean homesick alien

based on: music my bloody valentine's "come in alone" (1991)

word count: 30516 (30.5k)

warning(s): mental health discussion (survivor's guilt, ptsd, depression, anxiety attacks, suicidal thoughts), minor character(s) deaths, mention of a major car accident, medication (pills for depression, motion sickness, and birth control), self-harm, description of scars and wounds, blood, drug consumption (alcohol), piercings and tattoos (jake has a labret piercing and a full sleeve tattoo on his left arm. mc has septum and belly button piercings), sex used as coping mechanism, explicit sex (three scenes; from borderline pornographic to love making), unprotected sex, yun's dick is BIG, manhandling, hand job (m&f received), oral job (m&f received), dacryphilia, bulging, sub space, squirting, creampie, cockwarming, (if there is something i forgot, let me know)

message of the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life. jaeyun will be used more, but jake is also referred!

welcome! this fic tackles heavy topics, espeically regarding mental health after a traumatic event. i also want to suggest to listening to the fic whilst reading because it helps with the many inclusions of songs written here—both openly referenced to just implications. hope you enjoy!

playlist | visualizer part of the loveless anthology

musician that inspired the sound of amperhyphen: american football / car seat headrest

the air is electric as the spotlight shines on him. the sweat sticking onto his body frames his arm muscles as they move in front of him. the click track in one side of his ear as he gazes at the front. his friends were all in the zone as they all stood at the front of the stage—standing on top of them. his left arm was shining and showing his full sleeve tattoo while playing the snare drum. his right hand was counting on the hi-hats as he had to adjust his rhythm. nicholas, who is standing closest to him, moves his bass melody around his rhythm, following the down beat from his kick bass. while euijoo and jongseong play their guitar melodies interchangeably, making the sound of his crashes and tom-toms an anchor for them to follow.

behind the drum kit, jaeyun feels at home.

his hands drumming the snare so hard as he bit on his bottom lip, feeling the ring of his piercing cool against his skin, as the beat became faster. the end of the show is so near that he had to eye the bucket of drumsticks near his legs—finding one less of them after he broke one tonight. sweat on his dyed blond hair falling down as he felt the music all come together and enter his blood veins, like drugs that he consumes through a syringe so that he could directly feel seep into his cells. his vision continues looking at the crowd, their hands in the air. some are holding their phones; but in his band's genre of music, the audience doesn't need a phone recording to feel the euphoria of the night that will be imprinted in their memory. the spotlights shining on their faces as he could see himself in that crowd, watching his favourite band as they create music live that sounds even better than their studio counterpart. then, he trails his eyes towards the front of the barricade where security guards stood. and, there is also someone holding a camera, recording their audience having fun as the figure walks in front of the stage.

the people who noticed smiles and sing towards the camera as the figure walks to the other end of the stage before turning around, letting the lens capture the band's performance as the light shines perfectly on the face behind it. you.

you hold the camera still with your hands, eyeing from the viewfinder to capture the right scene before you of the band performing their hearts out, to then the stage where his eyes find yours; a smile forming on your face when he can also feel the electricity of the music combine with the one coming from you.

his hands move to the crash cymbals as the song nears the end. nicholas, euijoo, and jongseong all sang into their microphones as he mouthed the lyrics by his mic, head lulling following the rhythm, counting the bars of music in his mind to then stop! the spotlight shines on jongseong, who continues playing his melody meticulously on his trusty guitar as the music fades away. jaeyun hears the screams and cheers from the audience as the final song ends, wiping away his nose bridge, yet his eyes still stay on your figure who is shooting jongseong's solo for the recording, ending the song like it is written.

claps and cheers fill his ears as he can feel the jitters coursing through his body. jaeyun leans back on his stool as he takes a breath after playing for two hours by now. he could already feel the scratches on the thick blisters on his fingers—courtesy of gripping the drumstick—as he felt the outermost skin peeling off. the boy stands up from his chair, eyeing the audience, you, and then the spotlight that shines on him; blinking as he captures the moment.

"this is amperhyphen! thank you and good night!" euijoo's voice rings through the microphone as the spotlight shuts down on the stage. finally, he could take a fucking breath.

jaeyun picks up his water bottle as he leaps off the foundation of his drum kit, walking behind the speakers to the wing of the stage when he sees sunghoon clapping his hands, ruffling his hair when he arrived before him, to then move and greet nicholas, who was walking behind the boy. on his side, sophia is already pushing out their small towels for them to grab and wipe up their sweats. but, jaeyun's attention is somewhere else as he eyes the moving crews that are tidying up the venue and their instruments: to bring them to the next stop of their tour.

"the fuck, jake?" jongseong comes to stand beside him. his long black hair framing his face as he felt the brush of his guitar neck by his back. "you broke another stick when playing letters. i saw it flung near me."

"that means that he was fucking enjoying it, of course. i'm surprised that my guitar string hasn't snap yet." euijoo added as he leans into sunghoon's—their band's manager—side who replied with "don't fucking jinx it.". sophia stood in the circle too as she nods at jaeyun who had already use the towel to wipe his face, looking down to see the dark eyeshadow around his eyes melting onto the material.

"oh yeah, jay. i think your d string was a bit off-tune between silhouettes and twin fantasy," nicholas added after swallowing his drink from the water bottle.

"fuck! thanks nicho. didn't fucking caught it there. thanks again, dude," jongseong answers as he pulls off his guitar and places it inside the case full of stickers of band logos—from their own amperhyphen, and to their other favourite bands such as green day and radiohead.

"we gotta fucking celebrate the night. one more stop of the tour!" sunghoon said, wiping his own sweat as jaeyun recognised his hard work behind the stage. from handling the logistics of the instruments to the audio engineering and all others that. he could only nod his head as he looked at the stairs leading to the front of the stage, and instantly, he could feel his breath hitch when the final member of the core amperhyphen team finally approached the rest. his body continues to jitter as his eyes gaze at the figure.

you are wearing a red flannel shirt outside of your white t-shirt that is short enough so he could catch the glint of your belly button piercing because of the shine of the light. the camera is in a grip between your hands as you close your distance, hearing the greetings from the other boys as sophia wraps her arm behind your shoulders.

"the crowd is genuinely so fun tonight. i was fucking scared that they could pick up the camera and shit," you said as the others giggle. your nose scrunches as he gazes at the septum piercing while the others continue to converse. only some unintelligible noise comes into his ears as he pulls off his in-ear monitors and device of his body to be packed up along with the rest of the concert equipment. then, jaeyun's eyes meet yours once again. the wide smile on your face fades away as you read his expression, from the way he licks his bottom lip to slightly biting it, his stare hot and burning against your skin as he disregards the impromptu planning for the night.

you already guessed what he was going to do to celebrate the night.

"you're coming, jake?" euijoo's voice pierces through the wall of indecipherable noise as he finally glances around at the others. and by the knowing looks on some of them, such as jongseong and sophia, they already know that he has a plan going on for tonight: a plan that involves him and you.

jaeyun shakes his head before glancing back at you who is standing still, already eyeing him and waiting for his signal. his body moves quick as he breaks away from the circle and grabs onto your wrist, hearing you yelp as he feels the chuckles bubbling when hearing the others reacting to the two of you.

"don't forget your fucking bags, you two." sunghoon shouted as you replied with a "okay, hoon" and let the darkness of the hallway consumes you both from their eyesights.

the air is crisp as you feel your bag hanging by your shoulders, jaeyun dragging you with his letterman bag that is draped with his sweater hanging and tied across his chest. his fingers already signing for hailing on the road as a taxi came by the pavement and you both step into the backseats. as you leaned back against the soft seat while jaeyun tells the hotel name, you take in the view of the town you visted even if it is just for three days, taking in the scenery of it that looks more or less like a growing city. the skyline is still full of high-rises and office towers as the car drives into the dead of the night filled with glowing signs that captures the eye.

a warm touch rests on your ripped-jeans-covered thighs, turning to the side as you see jaeyun with his hot gaze on you. his smudgy eyeliner and eyeshadow frames his eyes that pierce into you even more, biting one side of his bottom lip that you know is already swollen—because he always bites his bottom lip when focusing on something and especially behind the drum kit. the streetlights let you see his simple silver labret piercings that cool down your lips whenever you feel it-

reality kicks in as you pick his hand up and curl it with your own, giving him a look that says, "please wait just for a bit." many times, he couldn't handle it. sometimes, he had already had you wrapped around his fingers and thrust you against the vanity table in the backstage area where sophia put on his and his members' make-up. sometimes, he had already using the bottom of his palm to make you dry hump for him, lips already marking your neck as you cover your mouth to not let a sudden pant came out. jaeyun had become more behaved since the first time you both hooked up at the start of the tour three months ago. he had access to groupies and fans—much of what euijoo and jay hook up with as, usually, nicho hooks up with soph—but jaeyun: he always picks you to end his night.

as the taxi stops by the lobby area of the hotel, a bell boy opens the door for the backseat as jaeyun puts a pile of cash on the tray by the driver.

"thank you!" you shouted as the boy helped you out of the taxi.

"big bucks over here. you're welcome!" the driver shouted back as you both giggle, leaving behind the bell boy who opened the door for you and the taxi as jaeyun and you jog towards the elevator as quick as possible. because it is nearly midnight, the elevator door opens quickly as you press the floor number where all seven of you have settled. leaning back against the back wall of the small space, you looked down to see his foot moving in rhythm like it was still on the kick drum's pedal. your interlocked hands holding on tight as you trail your look up towards his arms—his left arm full of black and red-inked tattoos that create contrast with his bare skin right arm. you let out a huge sigh when the screen above the door shows your floor, and the doors slide open.

"your keycard," you whispered-screamed to him when you bumped into his back by his room. his hand instantly moved to pull out the keycard from his bag's front pocket as he pressed and saw the unlocked green light on top of the handle. jaeyun twists it and pushes the door open hard as the closed curtain greets you on the other side of the room. you haven't even taken in everything when he closed the door and pushed you to it. one palm resting beside your head as he finally kisses you hungrily.

closing your eyes, you let your hands trail around his toned and sweaty body, feeling his wet locks clumped together as his piercing's cool texture presses down your lips. your hand grips his nape when you sense his lips biting yours. you kick off your sneakers away towards the door as he does the same before pulling deeper into the hotel room.

the warm bedside lamps are turned on and placed on each side of his double bed. jaeyun pulls away as he sees you put your bag beside his bed, pulling off his own letterman bag and placing it on his desk. adrenaline courses through him as he pulls away his white compressed tank top and feels the cool air brushing against his sticky skin. turning around, you are already perched on the front edge of the mattress, outer shirt strewn away as he realises that you both were wearing nearly matching outfits for the night. your palms are pressed on the mattress behind as you push your upper body upright. darkness clouded your eyes as he felt the same aura exuding from you as he also exudes.

the boy let out a groan as he stepped before you, grabbing onto one side of your face and leaning down to kiss you hard. jaeyun felt how your clean and short nails trailed down his shoulder muscles as he pushed his tongue into your mouth's cavern. your other hand cradling his face, brushing his angular cheekbone and gripping his jaw. his hands brush down onto the end of your tee as he pulls it away, letting him see the black bra that you adorned when he pulls it off of you. his lips trail to the button of your nose, licking against your septum piercing before trailing down towards your jaw and then neck.

"jaeyun…." you moaned out when he bites another mark on your collarbone. the only people in this world who fully refer to him as jaeyun are his parents, his brother, and himself. his best friends and bandmates all call him interchangeably with jake—because of the use of his english name as his stage name—and the crowd only knows him as jake. but when he heard you moan jaeyun after he told you his birth name for the first time months ago, he felt his world turn upside down and the blood flows more into his hardened cock that makes his jeans tighter—even until now.

he licks up the trail of your skin on a path, feeling the loose band of the bra by his upper lip after you unhook it, making his hands move it away and throw it somewhere in the room. your perky nipples stand tall as his trail runs down and licks one up while gripping the other boob with the amount of force you liked. your hands burshes his fringes to look down at his head by your chest—worshipping your body as he continue to learn every time you both fuck. your favourite places to be kissed, to be touched, to be gripped, and to be marked.

a chuckle bubbles out from you as he continues downward and licks around your belly button that adorns your piercing, his hands unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans as he brushes his lip ring on your lower tummy, feeling him getting closer to where you want him. pulling the jeans away, he sees your matching black underwear sticking onto your hips as he trails kisses from your knee to your inner thigh. you lean up with one arm pushing your upright, the other hand raking on his back as you could feel the healing scars that you inflicted on him the last time—marking him the way you like it.

his breath brushes the wet spot on your underwear as your body squirms, reacting right to his touches as he licks a strip around your slit and finding your clit at the same time. you muffled your moans by biting your lip as he continues before brushing the fabric aside. jaeyun could see your libia already opening for him, letting him see your hole that is only reserved for him. your slick is already coming out as he felt how you were already wet for him, even without foreplay. like it started when you see him on stage. like he also felt the bulge grazing his thighs when he sees you below the stage whilst drumming.

"jaeyun- fuck!" you gasp at the sensation when he pushes his tongue into the hole, the cool lip ring surface touches your warm skin as he finally looked up to your face. the boys' eyes continue to pierce into you as you try your best to hold on the eye contact and not roll your eyeballs back into your skull from how fucking good he is fucking your walls orally. your hips continue to squirm as he pulls away and suck your clit, pushing two of his fingers into the entrance as they scissor you opened—widening the opening for him.

"prepping you to take me in deep until my balls hit your hips," jaeyun mumbled against your skin as he watched your knitted eyebrows from pleasure, pushing the hole wide as he thrusts up his fingers into you.

"always… prepared… for you," you mumbled back as he pulls his face away, letting you see the sheen around his lips from his saliva and your slick as you presses down your thumb to the middle of his bottom lip with his piercing, making him lick the fingertip as he continues opening you up for him. jaeyun stands up on his feet and leans forward to you once again, making you let out a free flow of moans as he continues to open you up with his fingers as both of your lips press against each other. your hands grasping his hair and neck as your toes curled up under your socks, feeling your pulsating wall after he pulls out, then giggles when your whines travel to his ears.

with him pulling away from the front of bed, you drag yourself up to the end when you felt the headboard and the pillows behind you, eyes gazing at him who is taking his jeans off as you spread your legs beside you, folding your knees before you push the area behind your kneecaps towards your chest—showing his reward to him by opening so much for him. jaeyun chuckles as he could see how desperate you by the way you are spreading your legs like he is yours, finally pushing down his boxers as his long and thick cock stands upright and taps against his abs. you eyed his member with a lick on your bottom lip as he crawls over, already prepared as ever to wrap your walls around him.

jaeyun crawls his body on the mattress and kneels by your spread hips. he brushes his sensitive part as he puts his palm before his mouth. you hear him spit then he pushes his open palm down towards your mouth, letting you spit on it as well, before he uses the palm and stroke his cock. the boy hissed at the coolness of the liquid as he already felt his pre-cum flowing out out of his slit. leaning closer, you eyed him playfully, pushing yourself to brush his tip on your lower lips.

"hmm…" you reacted with a high-pitched whimper.

"look at you. so hot and bothered for me," he spoke above you as you nodded your head. when his tip catches onto your opening, his sight focuses on you as he plunges deep. you can feel yourself getting so full—your eyes rolling back into your skull.

"fuck yes!"

"fuck yes, (y/n)." jaeyun echoes your word as he pushes himself deeper until his balls touches your hip. his tip meets your cervix as your walls clamp and adjust around him. you roll your eyes back as you gaze at his intoxicating face, his sight focusing on your rising and falling chest before he zones out. you let go of one of your legs and bring it to lean against his shoulder, breaking his trance as your free hand finds his that is gripping onto your waist.

"you can move," you whisper only to him as he gets your command, pulling back until more than halfway before plunging back in. his vision now focuses on your face as you nod even more, urging him to continue before you mouth "faster" to him. the leftover adrenaline from the concert comes back as he adjust his pace, faster like you want him.

your jaw is unhinged as you let out strangled moans that feeds into his ego, knowing that when you lose your push to voice out a moan means that you are already deep in pleasure from his cock. he groans out. sounds like skin slapping against skin and the light thumps from the mattress against the wall fill the room as you stretch yourself open for him. when he leaned down closer to your torso, you shrieked as you folded your knee towards his frame.

"s-so deep-" you moaned out, letting go of both of your knees as you folded them at the back of his upper body, letting him press you down underneath his body as his hips falter in the pace but he replaces it with how full he is filling you up. from the tip that your lips are gripping on, to then plunge deep until you feel him by your cervix. you feel the familiar burning stretch as his torso moves forward—folding yourself more than half for him. sweat continues to trail down his hairline until it reaches the outside corner of his eyes, mixing it with his black eyeshadow before it trails down and thins out on his cheek.

the bottom lip of yours is bitten as you try your best to gaze at his face. his adam's apple bopping as he swallows every breath whilst thrusting into you and you following him—not making him go fully out of you. one of your hands reaches for his inked tricep before moving to his shoulder, making him lean more as he finally smashes his lips on yours once again. your tits moving against his chest as you moaned into his lips. your hand, that is behind his left shoulder, is already curling into his skin as his hands hold himself on each side of your head, tangling it with your spread legs so he can push deeper into you than ever before.

trembles came from you as you let out a shaky breath, mouthing your impending release as he felt it on his lips before your jaw was widely agape and you sank your head into the pillow as deeply as possible. your fingernails digging into his back muscles as he continues to thrust yet slowly, letting him take in your euphoric expression with your folded legs holding onto his shoulders that continue to shake. you sense how your walls are fastening on his cock, yet still feel the moisture that is produced from your cum as he is getting even harder than ever inside you.

pushing with all your might, his body now lies on the mattress with you at the top. after fixing your position in a more comfortable one, you sink yourself down until you are practically sitting on his lap with his member inside you. your upper teeth biting onto the centre of your bottom lip as he is doing the same. eyes dark and warm gazing at you like something he is so proud to attain. in your mind, you shake your head as you wet your lips and press your hands against his abs, pushing yourself upwards before falling onto him.

you continue doing so, perceiving every muscle of your walls clenching onto him as the moist sound continues to get even louder. sneaking to look at the area where you both are connecting, you stare at how your arousal mixes together to create an opaque ring around the base of his cock: of your cum and his pre-cum. with a knowing look from you, you continue your flury of moves as you bounce on him, feeling the oversensitivity coming to you as his groan is a signal of how tight you are sucking him in.

"come here," jaeyun said as he pushed himself upwards. back now leaning against the headboard as he brought your upper body to him. you felt his knees folding behind you as you can't help but let your tongue meet his as he guides your hips while moving his own—pushing his hips up into yours. your hand is clenching onto his tense muscles as you moan back into his mouth, finding his back as you pull him into you, just like he does to you.

"y-yun." you curled yourself into his embrace and moaned into his ears. his energy pushing through to get you to come one last time.

"close?"

"yes! mpmh-" your lips meeting his again to muffle the noise that he is also letting out from the neighbours close to his hotel room. hips meeting his as he held onto your waist, feeling how your figure trembled as he moaned into your parted lips. eyes open wide, you met them with his that is frowning from how tight you are holding onto him—cumming for the second time of the night.

leaning in, the tip of your nose presses against his before you move your head to his forehead meeting yours as well. one of your hands trails to his face as you feel his thrusts getting sloppier, pressing your thumb down against his hoop lip piercing as he licks the fingertip.

"fucking cum in me," you say, full of frustration but also coated in lust as your lips brush against his when you speak. his thrust suddenly becomes quicker as he chases after his high like so many times you and he have done before. forehead pressing hard against each other's as his moan fell out between his open lips. jaeyun tilts his head to finally meet his lips against yours as you can feel his semen squirt out inside you—warming you up from the inside.

you both breathe so heavily as you sit upright. his cock inside you plugging his cum so that it doesn't slip out as you both stare at each other. with another tick, the tension melts away, and you both giggle.

"i still can't believe that you have that much energy after every gig," says you who lets both of your forearms rest on each of his shoulders.

"i got more kick of adrenaline when i know that every night, i will be here inside of you."

"oh, shush." you put a pointer finger in front of his lips as he playfully opens them to nibble on it. the cycle of breathing came from both of you as he continued to warm you from your nether region. you gazed at his dyed hair, noticing his natural black hair growing from the roots, showing just how much time has passed as you still remember his fully dyed blond hair when you first saw him. his eyeliner still sticks on his waterline with a few smudges from the sweat of performing and the tears of pleasure creating a shadow around it.

"can you help grab my bag?" you said as jaeyun's hold on you continued, moving both of you slightly nearer to the side of the bed. the movement makes your body bounce as you continue to clamp onto him, eyes already rolling at his method of doing so as he cock brushes against your walls. his muscles tensed up as he picked up your bag before placing it on the space beside you.

"you're sleepy, i know. but you gotta clean your makeup first," you muttered as you brush around in your bag—from feeling your notebook to your wallet and phone—to pick up the bottle of makeup cleanser and cotton pads. jaeyun finally leaned back on the headboard, sturdy enough to hold him upright as his hands were still splayed on your waist. after pouring the right amount of it on the pad, you exhale as he closes his eyes, letting you clean out his eye area as he reacts to the cool sensation, continuing to hold onto you.

wiping away his makeup, you let his skin breathe as you find one of his eyelids void of obvious signs of eyeshadow and eyeliner. looking from afar, you could see the inner youth jaeyun still has within him—even with some creases around his eyebag area from maturing into the fully fledge young adult. your hand rested on his jaw to help clean the canvas that is his face more easily. then, you felt him pushing his head forward with a little pout forming, making you giggle as you continued to clean his makeup.

with three pads used, you lean back a bit to take in his beautiful face before you. a few blemishes rest on his face including an unsmooth texture to a scar that blends in with the rest of his skin tone. yet this softer jaeyun is the same as the one you recorded on stage on your camcorder, banging the drums as the metronome of the songs with his best friends in a small, albeit sold-out, performance.

when jaeyun opens his eyelids, your breath catches off guard as he peers at you. his pupils looking around your face as you felt the familiar surge of post-sex sensation faltering away in an instant—making you question why you are here in the first place. looking down at the bottle and the rest of the cotton pads, you packed them into your bag as the boy's breath settled down before you. after that, you push yourself up as his cock lays on his body, feeling the breeze that comes through you as you felt his cum already near dripping out—landing more on the base of his cock as you can already imagine just how slimy your core is.

"i have to go," you said to him as you move away from his lap and stand on the edge of the bed, eyes set on your black underwear as you rush to get them and tuck it on, stopping more of his cum leaking out of you while also making the cloth now stained. and when you approached him to get your bag by the bed after tugging on your jeans and t-shirt with the flannel shirt and black bra on your hold, you felt the familiar warmth grip your wrist.

"stay," he had said, his ruffled bangs that is now covering most of his forehead making him look much more innocent even before people notice that he doesn't wear anything under it. his confident body still exposed against the cool air as you strain yourself to not trail your gaze down. but you shake your head as you pull his hand off yourself and feel its searing grip creating an imprint.

"i have to go. i still have to pack my stuff."

such an easy lie to say, knowing it is half true. because you have packed your luggage a day ago with only the clothes you'll be wearing for the next two days in the wardrobe.

a smile adorns your face as you put the rest of your clothing items haphazardly into your bag. you pivot one last time at him, seeing his familiar unreadable expression that he will always show when you have to get back and leave him behind. maybe he had felt something more than what this is. because you both had set up this situation as full of benefits that are only fulfilled sexually. no underlying emotion should seep out other than lust and how it helps relieve, or in the case of jaeyun, how it helps relax.

"good night, jaeyun," you uttered, tucking the strap of your bag on your shoulder with your hand gripping onto it.

"good night, (y/n)," he echoed, still leaning against the headboard as his piercing gaze stayed on you until you weren't seen from his spot on the bed.

hanging the pair of shoes with your fingers, you rummaged your bag's small pocket to find your own keycard as you stepped in front of your hotel room. entering it, the lights that greet you are dimmer than what jaeyun has, as only the lights from the desk and on the bedside table in between the two twin beds are lit up. you walked towards your bed and placed down your belongings before pulling out your skincare pouch from the bag.

the familiar cotton pad that once cleaned jaeyun's makeup is now cleaning yours. the liquid smooth cleansing milk moves along with your movement as you eyed yourself in the mirror. dust and makeup staining the white pad as you felt his remains still leaking out of you and nearly dripping onto the jean material you're wearing. finding your bare face from the reflection—your concept of time is fleeting out as you don't know how long it took for you to actually clean your face, you rush up and grab onto your sleeping clothes before stepping into the bathroom.

underneath the cold water shower, you feel his warm touch dispersing as you try to not think about anything further from what you have with jaeyun. 'maybe he got emotional because it is nearing the end of the tour,' you were thinking as you brush the bubbles from the soap against your marked skin, sensing the pain when you accidentally push on the skin with too much force. his cum now falling and mixing into the water as you clean your lower region while leaning against the nearest surface—numbness finally caught up to you on your hip area from the ways he fucked and manhandled you.

with your sleeping clothes on as you dry your hair as best as you could with the towel before letting it air dry, you went back to the desk again as you pulled out your nightly skincare products that involve acne care and for your dark circles. then, you hear the click of the door unlock as you turn and see sophia, your roommate for the past three months of the tour, coming in still giggling as her sway shows just how tipsy she was, even if it is only the leftovers.

"hey (y/n)," yet she said so casually.

"hi soph," you reply.

she steps deeper into the room as her hands find the backrest of the sturdy chair you are sitting on. her eyes nearly threatening to close before focusing on yours as you put the acne solution on the place where the area with remaining acne scars is. a pouty smile comes out from her as you could already tell that she can see the sex glow on you, like the many times she had mentioned ever since you came forward and told her your very active sexual rendezvous with jaeyun.

"did you clean jake's makeup? i really don't wanna make him get that big batch of the little pimples along his face that i had to cover up."

"yeah, i did," you answered. sophia is always meticulous as ever when it comes to the band's appearance. she will find solutions to make the boys' skin much healthier. you have heard her mad when she notices jaeyun has some pimples on his cheek and the many speeches she talks with all of them about them not taking care of themselves. it's the reason why she is always prepared with fresh, clean towels after every show—to wipe away any sweat and grime on their faces to clean themselves up. the appearance of a band that plays alternative rock and midwest emo songs is meant to be grungy, but when the stake of popularity of the band rests on their members' visuals as well as their music, especially in this economy; it becomes a great asset to upkeep.

your eyes followed sophia's as she turned her head to the side of the desk where you had another pouch open. her mind is sober enough to process a lot of things as you let the acne solution dry out on your face, creating inconsistent dots of chemical white before she then also reminds you.

"don't forget the pills, yep?" she said so nonchalantly as you glance to find your new strip of birth control pills peeking out. one pill out for today because you finished your menstrual cycle yesterday. a pout shows from you, even if it is not so prominent. you nodded your head, mind returning to the reason why you use birth control in the first place: because of jaeyun.

you have not been sexually active before you meet jaeyun. the tightness of your wall clamping onto his condom-covered cock the first time he insert himself into you is the pain you are never forgetting—because you also feel it for the first time in your life with him. he doesn't know it that way and you don't really want to announce it to the boy as of recently, but being with jaeyun made you feel wanted differently in your whole life. a life that is full of expectations, memories that some you want to leave behind yet still stick with you, and ever ever-changing job to hustle in your life. jaeyun's searing touch against your skin feels different than the romantic partners you had in your life—those that only saw you as this cool kid they would like to date because of how alternative you are—yet when you meet someone as alternative, then you can actually feel the numerous substances combining into a chemistry miracle.

and yet, you both only defined your relationship as pleasure-seeking: to end the day with calm and relaxed selves. your arrangement with each other only happens because sunghoon hired you from your personal collection of concert pictures and videos you watched since you were a freshman and sophia vouching for you since you both went to the same college. in the end, it will only be temporary. jaeyun will go on his merry way, banging his way into people's hearts with amperhyphen. while you? you don't know what to do. maybe finish your degree that's going to accumulate in cost. but you know that you want to stay close to music: you don't know if it's off stage like right now, or on stage like you used to do.

sophia quickly pecks your wet hair before approaching her side of the wardrobe full of her fashionable clothes—you know that you will have to help her pack tomorrow morning before check out. her face is flushed as the alcohol continues to seep into her cells as she picks up her sleeping clothes to end her day and start tomorrow in.

"oh yeah! where's the last stop going to be again?" you watched her from the mirror across from you, moving behind your chair towards the bathroom before facing back to you at the front of the open doorframe.

"haeyang," she answered in a beat. just like the thumping of your heart that quickens when you hear the town name.

inside you, it all comes crashing down. tinnitus showing up in your ears as you sense your head spinning. headache forming as your eyesight becomes blurry, unable to see your reflection on the hotel room mirror again. but you see something else: your reflection on that day, marred with scars and blood dripping down your face on the reflective surface as the orange sky shines upon yourself in that very moment. your trembling, bloodied hand holding your phone after calling the emergency hotline before adrenaline kicks in and makes you move.

the water runs inside the bathroom as sophia cleans away her worries, while yours come back to haunt you. every inhale feels so heavy as you shake your head to bring you back to sanity once again. but those flashbacks—nightmares—returns and will not be going away as they stake their claim in your mind for the time being. until this attack stops.

your hands reach into the pouch full of pills that you rely on for these past three months, eyes frantically scanning every brand and medicine name as you find the pill bottle that is inscribed with your name. you just hoped it hadn't expired from the last time you consumed it as you pop open the cap and take open pill out. the pill goes down along with the water as you read again what your prescribed antidepressant pills have in them before tucking the bottle away so sophia doesn't see it.

resting your head on the pillow, you turn your head towards the window covered by the sheer curtain—still letting the moonlight shine inside the room. you can feel the placebo effect of the pill kicking in as you reassure your heartbeat's rhythm is back to normal and stable, knowing that the pill's chemical will only take effect when you are sleeping. the tiredness in your muscles and your mind finally makes you close your eyes, hoping to not think of whatever tension you and jaeyun have when you clean his makeup, and especially hoping that the flashback doesn't come back to haunt you for the rest of your sleep.

because you will need this deep sleep to face the next few days.

-

the drumming engine of the 7-seater SUV trembles as jaeyun is reminded of the ghost sound of snare drum, kick drum, and hi-hat playing in the same rhythm all the time. the sound that rings every time he goes to the venue for his rehearsal. the sound that permeates when he enters the venue and goes to the stage to find his drum kit empty—only finding you, who is taking in b-roll footage to add to the videos you will then upload to social media to excite people about their last stop in the national tour.

his vision gazes at the moving scenery of the highway whilst he continues to rub against your back, your head leaning onto his shoulder as you let out little snores. even if he wanted you to stay the night and sleep with him and you reply with rejection, he is still the one who will let you sleep in the car. you always had your water bottle and a pill ready before entering the back of the vehicle with the many duffle bags resting beside jaeyun as they don't have any more space in the trunk. jay already asking what the pill is when you first do it in front of him.

"it's for motion sickness. i get car sick if i stay in a car too long."

and so, when sophia was the one who sat in the very back with you, she became your pillow as you slept your pain away until she woke you up when you arrived at the next town. but ever since jaeyun's growing relationship with you and sophia's relationship with nicho, he moves to the back and lets himself hold you upright so he could see his best friend getting it on with the girl that he likes. it is what friends are for, right?

your hair covered nearly half of your face as you slept as soundly as ever. he did notice how tired you seemed when they had to pack up, so he hoped that the pill would help to let you rest so you could be more energised when the vehicle arrived. because out of all the towns he went to, haeyang is the one he anticipated the most.

haeyang itself is a town—the marketing statistics show—where most amperhyphen fans come from. its growing hipster scene as a campus town also helps with the beautiful scenery of a mountain, hills, and the sea. he couldn't wait to explore haeyang with you because he thinks you would love the town, especially with the similarities you share with him from your relationship.

"hey, jake!" jongseong asked from the seat in front of him, turning his head so he could look at the figure seated behind him as he spoke, "when are you available for those drum lessons? jungwon is already asking me for dates after we are back home."

said boy chuckles as he replies with, "didn't your brother say that he had a college orientation? maybe before that is good."

"next week, then. let me text him back," jay types away into the chat message between him and his brother, jungwon. the little brother of two has always wanted to play drums ever since jongseong allows the band to practice in his house's garage, finding his older brother and his bandmate jamming away from covering their favourite songs to practice their own written songs every time the younger arrived home from high school. jungwon has an affinity for jaeyun's drumming, reacting in focus to how jaeyun plays the beats perfectly so that it wouldn't be too fast or slow. he feels honoured in inspiring his best friend's younger brother to play the instrument he truly loves.

the outside view continued to go past as the plains of the barricaded highway slowly were being overwhelmed by hills full of trees. the SUV goes through tunnel after tunnel and when the highway continues after the last tunnel has gone by, he could actually hear euijoo's gasp from the shotgun seat. from the view of the small window beside him, the hills are now replaced by the vast sea. islands are freckling upon the waters farther out from the shore as he felt you stirring in your sleep—somehow knowing that all of you have reached haeyang. looking through the window on the other side where you are sleeping, he found buildings on the forefront of hills—a little barricade to cover up the town's nature.

jaeyun's hand gently holds your waist as he looks to the front to see that all of his friends are staring outside of the car windows in wonder. sizzling noise of the fm radio dissipates when the frequency finds a local radio station that plays the sound of an indie folk act as the acoustic guitar fills in the space—introducing the town as this familiar and authentic place, where it is not been fully replaced by large gentrification projects unlike the towns he had performed in.

"hmm…" you hummed beside him, making the boy pivot his head to look down at your head on his shoulder, watching as your eyelids fluttered open, your sight meeting his neck before peering upwards to meet his.

"have we arrived?" your mumble reaches his ear as he nods. slowly, you push yourself against jaeyun to sit up, blinking the sleepiness away as you look around at the windows showing the scenery outside of the vehicle. he watches as you take in the view, a slow yet huge inhale and exhale coming from your body as you continue to stare outside. the sunlight captures your face perfectly as his eyes flicker on your side profile. the light shines on the surface and makes your iris colour much more pronounced. yet, your face remains still as you watch along the moving scenery—he focuses back on your eyes to see that there is something sort of blue in them.

when sunghoon mentioned that they would be in haeyang for six days as the last stop of the tour, the boys were already trying to set up things to do since day 1. catching onto the talks that they had of their last night celebration—which jaeyun and you only got to know this morning after what you were doing the previous night—they already had an idea of something to do today. and as they all check into their motel rooms at the establishment near the haeyang beach, his eyes looks back towards you who is waiting for sophia to unlock the door a few doors from him. and how your hand are clenching then unclenching before meeting sophia's sight as you give her a smile and entering the door.

as the sun sets on your first day in haeyang, all seven of you gather at a karaoke place where sunghoon booked a large room that you all can fit into and prance around. finger foods to full-on meals sit on the tables alongside bottles of flavoured soju and a bottle of tequila as jaeyun sits on the cushioned sofa, his arms resting on top of the backrest, curling it behind your figure who is sipping from the shot glass of the peach-flavoured soju. jongseong and euijoo rock out on the space in front of the tv to the green day song they're singing, both of them taking turns as they play air guitars with their hands forming the chord on their imaginary fretboard. sophia is recording them with her phone as jaeyun caught your giggles from watching the two's shenanigans—seemingly much better emotionally from when he saw you in the morning.

"oh, fuck me! we should actually cover this song next time," euijoo says as he twirls his body before collapsing on the sofa and jongseong collapsing on top of him, playfully crushing the boy as they both battle it out with their hands.

"we fucking should. i would definitely love learning that bass solo at the bridge. it's fucking rare to get bass solos in songs." nicho fans himself, jaeyun turning to see his face a bit flushing from the alcohol as he sways to lean against sunghoon, who is just looking at his friends very perplexed.

"who's turn is it?"

"my turn!" sophia exclaims as she picks up the tablet that controls the karaoke machine. the letters filling in the query box one by one as jaeyun recognises the word and the famous song it is related to.

as the percussion plays into the speaker, the familiar synth of toto's africa rings out into the room as the boys are all cheering with sophia as they all stand up, hand in hand and sway from side to side. jaeyun chuckles at what his friends are doing as he hears her sing the lyrics, trying as best to match up with the key. then, sophia reaches for the other abandoned mic on the table and pushes it towards you.

"come on, (y/n)!" she eggs you on. eyes all turn towards you as you let out a small shake of your head. in the numerous times all seven of you have done karaoke, you never sing. you've never picked up the mic and led a round of singing like everybody does. you are usually sitting there, gazing at everyone who sings their hearts out whilst giggling with a glass or a spoon in your hand, enjoying the cuisine served instead before clapping your hands when they finish performing. everyone in the room knows this, but with the boy's eyes looking at the girl's expression: sophia knows you more even than jaeyun.

"i know you can sing. i always hear you sing this song in the shower," she slips the mic into your grasp as you sit up with your back straight on the edge of the cushion, holding the mic up against your lips before downing the rest of your soju as you blinked the bitterness away. when he looks at your face, he doesn't see denial anymore—he sees determination.

"'hurry boy, it's waiting there for you~'," sophia sings before turning around, eyes on you as she signals "the chorus is yours." with a deep breath, jaeyun watches you let out a smile and lift the microphone in front of you.

"'it's gonna take a lot to take me away from you~'," you sing the first line of the chorus before the boys' cheers muffled your voice as you continue on. jaeyun's sight focuses back on sophia, whose smile is so wide as your voice rings from the speakers. your body leaning forward as you gave your might to sing the lyrics out loud.

sophia is right. you can sing, and you sing well. and so, only the presence of your body lingers beside him as sophia drags you to stand up beside her. the mic is held in both of your hands as she wrapped her arms around your shoulder, swaying you along with the song as even sunghoon can't help but to smile seeing you finally be courageous enough to sing. jaeyun leans back on the sofa, staring at your singing figure and his friends who are singing along. the timidness that he recognises thaws away as you continue to sing—even filling in on the notes sophia couldn't reach with such a perfect pitch. he knows that, if he had a voice timbre like yours, he wouldn't even stop singing. and as you continue, hearing the way your voice stabilises with confidence, even allowing you to startle sophia where you take the lead: he realises that you are in your element. jaeyun doesn't even know where it comes from, but you have only known each other for three months now. there are many aspects in your life he hasn't fully explored. and if singing is one of them and you are good at it, he is determined to know more, even with the short time he has left.

as the song's instrumental bridge plays and he looks at you and sophia dancing hand in hand, he can feel warmth spreading from your smiling face. and as you sang the first line of the chorus for the last time with enthusiasm in your voice, sophia continued along with you as the boys followed in, singing the iconic lyrics to africa and how it repeats and repeats. with his mouth following along—jaeyun's eyes are still on you as he notices how your voice is losing volume compared to the others in harmony. but then, your smile fades away in a moment. the fluidity of your movement suddenly becomes stiff as your lips, which were mouthing the lyrics perfectly, began to stagger. the lights from the screen reflected in your eyes as he notices more and more glimmering in them—looking downwards as your chest starts to heave openly before closing your eyes.

the last of the chorus fades as the boys and sophia are singing the lyrics along with the synth melody that is now stuck in their heads. however, jaeyun is the one who notices you sobbing in sophia's arms with your head tilted down.

immediately, jaeyun stands up, startling everyone, as he steps and gathers you into his embrace. your small sob grows bigger when you feel his heat enveloping you, muffled your sobs as your head rested on his shoulder while he reassures your trembling figure with a smooth rub down your back. the room turns quiet as only the last instrumental of the track is playing, and the joy slowly dissipates as they all stare at you. jaeyun's eyes were still on you, not knowing how to react to the suddenness of it all.

"you're okay. i am here," he whispers into your ear of words that just show up in his mind. a phrase so neutrally positive that he hopes they don't undermine what you are feeling. because he doesn't know why you reacted this way in the first place.

your head is droning with the numerous hits as you feel jaeyun's voice pierce through the buzz, reacting in an instant as you put your hands on his chest to push him away. but he doesn't budge as he still holds you close, the shakiness of your body makes him want to hold you tighter. yet, he gave you space as you wipe away the tears, a groan came out from deep within you as your eyes find your friends', which are full of concern.

"i, i'm okay. just-" you swallow down your saliva, "all of you can continue. it's nicho's turn, right?"

they all look around and at you awkwardly. you felt jaeyun's hand giving a pat on your back as you darted towards him, towards his eyes as you pushed out the first thing in your mind that could calm everything down. your swollen eyes widened as you looked up and down at his figure. jaeyun's face changes from worry to curiosity—knowing what your gaze is telling. then, he felt your hands reaching for him. nay, reaching for his waist underneath his baggy graphic tee.

nicholas had moved to the tablet as you still stare at him with your knowing gaze. slowly, you bite down on your bottom lip—knowing that he will take the bait as his hands curl on your back. the only coping mechanism you know that will get you away from that mindset you wanted to not even think about in the first place.

"we'll be going first, okay?" jaeyun spoke up, aiming his words for the others. your eyes still stay on him as he watches how everybody nods. nicholas is already pulling sunghoon with him when jaeyun hears a nirvana song playing in the back. as the first notes of come as you are ring around the room, the door has already been slammed open, and you pull him with you into the dark hallway.

the evening outside is decorated with a purple hue as you walk down the pavement. your eyes are looking both ways to know when to cross the street when it is clear. whilst jaeyun is just letting you pull him away—knowing the end result of it all anyway.

this is the first time you had ever been so open to fuck. usually, he is the one who signals first.

both of your feet rush down the sidewalk when you see the motel getting closer—sunghoon's SUV parked in the parking lot indicates it as you both quickly climb up the stairs to the second floor of the accommodation. jaeyun fetches his key from his bag's pocket as you wait beside him, urging him on by how tightly you are holding his hand. and as the door opens and you both clamber in, jaeyun quickly closes the door before pushing you to it, trapping you as you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a hot clash of kisses. he keeps up with you, with how pushy and clingy you become as you even bite on his bottom lip near his lip ring, making him groan as he moves his hands around your body, feeling every part of you with his palm.

after both of you have kicked off your shoes, jaeyun crawls his hands down to your thighs as you accepted his signal; raising one of them before he lifts you up, holding you as he turns you both around towards his bed—lips still connected as he feels the saliva spreading around his lips from the fighting tongues. when he drops you down, he quickly removes your bag as you take off your top as fast as possible, making him have to keep up with your pace as you stand bare before him. instead of waiting for him, you kneel down quickly and help him with his bottom layers as you are met with his growing cock after tugging his pants down.

licking the underside of it, jaeyun peers down on you as you use one hand to stroke his shaft and the other hand moves to play with his balls, fondling the two as his hand moves strands of your hair to clearly gaze at you. your lips move towards his tip, kitten licking his slit before taking the head in your mouth with a pucker. a hum comes from you as he let out a trembling breath, biting his lip so hard he can feel his skin breaking when he tasted the iron. your eyes are glimmering under the minimal light, shining from taking on his member as you take more and more of him before closing your eyes when your nose ring trailing up his shaft until he felt the wall behind your mouth before you pull your head. yet when you open your eyes, you look back up at him—sticking your gaze on him.

"give it to me," you mouthed, your lips brushes against the head of his cock when you say the words as he felt the jitters from how it is getting more and more sensitive as you take him in. jaeyun watches how your free hand shifts from his balls to play with your pussy. his hands then hold onto each side of your head as you nodded as you continue to bob and take him in, making him picks up the pace as you kneel there pliantly, accepting what he is giving you as you continue to rub yourself and move your hand to his balls, edging him more and more with how much he can push himself into your cavern.

"gosh, you want me to ruin?" jaeyun asks as you let out hum with his cock in your mouth, eyes blinking towards him as he pulls away after a few fast thrust, looking at the strings of saliva connecting his member with your lips as your mouth is left agape to take in every oxygen you can.

the boy then stands you up as you let him, pushing you on the bed as he climbs on top of you, kissing your lips before going down to your neck as he gives a huge suck—knowing the hickey that will show up there when you gaze at your refelction—before he inserts two of his fingers into your moist hole covered with your arousal, earning a gasp from you as your hand reach down for his to do whatever he is doing. but he has something in mind for the girl who is craving for him.

you let out a whine that gets cut as he moves your body to rest on the side. jaeyun rested behind you before he stretched his inked left arm so you could rest on it, and he could move his hand to hold your shoulder down. his other hand lifted your leg so he could slot himself between you, resting it on top of his hip. your hand reachs down for his cock that is brushing against your lower lips, tapping against the sensitive clitoris you were rubbing before you push his tip between the rim of your hole as he pushes in, hand on your thigh as he moves his hips so he can enter more of himself in you.

a moan came out from you deliciously, making him turn his head to look at you with a squint in his eyes and a smirk forming on his face. pulling back until the bulb of his head is left, jaeyun pushes back in deeper as you let out another loud moan full of yearning. you had never moaned so loud before. even with the many times he had fucked you, you were always the silent type: gasps, small-volumed moans, trembling breaths, and unhinged jaw. but when he heard the pornographic moan you let out from this position, your body all stretched out in his liking, he knew he had to get more of them out of you.

with your body brushing against the mattress and his arm, the boy picks up the pace as he watches your facial expression full of bliss. eyes shut and jaw opens as moans came out of you following every thrust you both are receiving. his left hand that holds onto your shoulder felt your hand gripping onto it as you turned to look at him beside you, reaching with your hand to settle behind his head and get a hold of his lock as he caught the signal to press slight kisses on your lips and the corner of them. jaeyun also lets out moans as he watches you, blubbers coming out from you as your walls mold to his shape as he feels all the sensations in the right place.

jaeyun pulls your head closer, bringing him nearer to your skin as his lips touch your side of the face. whispers of dirty talk flow out of him as you opened your eyes with a hooded gaze, glancing down and watch how his cock is filling you up deliciously with how it dissapears inside of you so easily. his eyes are closed as he fully felt every nerves of him waking up from the pleasure, not realising the sniffles coming out of you as another liquid hits the bridge of his nose. pulling away slightly, he watches the tear falls from the corner of your swollen eye—the one that had cry before this and the one that had endured his cock baraging into your mouth until you almost couldn't breathe.

"are you okay?" he had asked as he slowed his pace down when he couldn't help but remember what happened at karaoke. however, he felt your hand on top of his that is resting on your tummy, pushing down on the bulge you felt so he could feel himself inside of you.

you nodded your head and replied, "letting go."

he returns his sight from your tummy to your eyes to find them all dark, goggling at him as you push your hand against the bulge he made inside of you once again, rubbing your hips against his. jaeyun can't help but force you to meet his lips, leaning down as best as he can as he continues to thrust. with every increase of the pace, more of your moans fell out as it blends well with the sticky noise coming from the skin-to-skin action as he puts a grip to hold your body still as he chases after your high, feeling how your walls are gripping his shaft like your fingers are to the pillow on his bed. then, when he pushes his fingertips and rubs them against your clitoris, he lets out a growl when your walls become tighter and eventually pushes him out as you actually scream.

squirts come out of your opening as he watches them spray across the mattress and felt them running down his thighs, leftover moans come out of your whilst jaeyun slap his hard cock against your lips as he gives a searing kiss to your temple when you peek towards him, still nodding as you continue to want more. and so, he moves you again so you now can fully clutch the pillow with both your kneecaps resting on the mattress, face against the bed as he brushes his cockhead between your buttcheeks before the tip caughts onto your hole as he thrusts in deep, feeling your cervix hitting the tip as your moans are muffled with your face burying itself into the pillow you are hugging. the boy's pace quickens as he presses kisses down your arched spine. your walls continue to clamp onto his shaft as he felt how trembling your body is, slamming his hips against your butt as he grips onto your hair and pulled the head up, letting him sniffs your scenr and sucks more hickeys onto the crook of your neck and collarbones. one of your hand grabs onto his as you guide it to grope your breast, squeezing the skin of it as he groans in your ear when felt more of your arousal flowing down as he fills you up with his semen.

breaths blow out of you both unorderly as you twist your head and find his lips, kissing them while jaeyun felt how your hips are moving against him once again. pulling out, he hastily flips you onto your back as he watches how both of your cum is flowing out of you before he stops it with the head of his dick as he pushes in. your legs are spread wide unconsciouly, watching him with a pleasure-fulled face of open mouth and tears of delight coming out of your hooded lids. with his stamina, the boy increases his speed as he leans in close to you, feeling how your belly button piercing presses against his skin as he folds you in half. your eyes then open, noticing how they are darker than before as you nod your head instinctively—not fully in control of your own body as he is the one taking charge, but also because you are slowly not feeling fully there.

"don't stop…" you mumbled out, holding your legs open for him as your eyes rolled back into your skull with every deep thrust you get. edging jaeyun even more from your actions, he makes his thrust faster and thorough as his fingers also rub your clitoris, feeling how your walls are pressing around him once again as he chases after it with his own high. when he spurt more of his cum into you, you let out a cry as another squirt of cum comes out of you, making his release flow out of your slit as you opened your eyes wide and skim to his face—his eyes also darkens like yours.

nevertheless, the only words that are is coming out of your mouth scramble his mind once again: "don't stop."

and so, he didn't stop until you both fell into exhaustion. jaeyun manhandles you into another position, thrusting upwards into you as your hands rest on his chest. your body is limping as he realises how gone you are from the pleasure—entering another space of existence. it makes him pull you down into a hug as he chases more of your release alongside his own. yet, when he fills you with another set of cum, your lips still utter "don't stop."

he fucked you in more ways that you both had actually done before. jaeyun moves you more into various positions: one with his hand pushing your head on the mattress as he kneels with your flat figure beneath, your front facing away from him as you bounce above him, and another previous position when you ride and face him as you finally crash down on his figure. your body is quivering with broken giggles coming out of your mouth as you lean down your head on his chest—feeling every cum that both of your bodies make blends in and staining the mattress. jaeyun gives you many kisses all across your face as your hooded eyes blink, feeling the muscles spasm all around your body as he feels your arms wrapped around him, making him hold you close as best as he could.

"i'm not letting you go this time," he whispers into your ear, earning a nod from you as he spreads his palm over your shoulder blades to hold you tight against him. your walls snuggling him as he glances at how your face relaxes and lets exhaustion take over in making you rest. however, when jaeyun looks at the ceiling of the motel room; he couldn't help but feel like a total shit.

'what is this feeling?' he asked himself when he unconsciously soothed down the back of your head as your breathing became much stable than before at the crook of his neck.

'it is only sex, right?' jaeyun asks again as he looks back toward your figure lying on top of him.

in this arrangement you have made, all actions are mutual. many times, he is the one who initiates sex. and if he can show his want to have sex with you, then you can also do the same with him. he will do what he was doing from the last few minutes numerous times more if you had asked for it. yet, you said you are "letting go", you indeed "let go" when he can assume how clouded your mind is. when you had said that, every vigorous thrust of his going inside you felt different—like it was coated with a different coating than what happened last time.

when he thinks about it, every caress on your body become so fucking different in an instant. he looks at how your eyes are tightly shut. tiredness taking you away into the dream state as he gives a one slow caress from your neck and following your spine until nearing your bottom. that the way he was fucking you moments ago—even if it does looks so dominant and tough—felt more in benefit for your pleasure than his, an ulterior motive you haven't been able to speak to him until now.

"i got too fucking romantic. apologies," jaeyun mumbles to himself, but it is actually for you, even if you are not awake.

the boy recalls moments of how it came to be: your trembling body against his as he soothes you down for the first time; your head resting against his shoulder as you sleep beside him in the vehicle; how he sometimes gave more of his food to you because what you order is not exactly in size from the menu; how he helps you with aiming for your pool game against on of the boys; how he lets out a small smile when he notices your camera lens recording him but he is looking straight at you instead. how soft his touch became when you said "let go," before it was replaced with "don't stop."

gosh, jaeyun's having feelings for you. but he knows you may not feel the same.

that is the nature of this established relationship you two have—how you help him relax after a night full of adrenaline—and how little you also reciprocate about it from the numerous times you have denied being with him after every intercourse. shaking his head, chuckles of bafflement come out of him. because even if you are in his arms like right now, he couldn't fucking read you. and so, the only way for him to show it is by comforting you, being your shoulder to lean on like a friend would. jaeyun does just that: his eyes looking down at you as he soothes his hand down your back in a stable rhythm—forcing his eyes to be wide open as he doesn't want you gone when they finally close.

however, his body was also exhausted as sleep beckoned him to succumb. his eyelids were already drooping and almost covered his eyes as his hands found a part of your body he wanted to hold, pushing you down onto him so he could feel your warmth pressing against his cold skin. and so, jaeyun lets sleep take him into the dream state, hoping to find you there as well.

he did find you there. you were smiling as you sat beside him. your hands interlocked with each other as you stared at the void of a view in front of you. yet he doesn't care about whatever the view before him is unless it is you there in his vision. but a brush of coolness startles him awake and he looks down to find the warmth he senses is his body covered by the bed's duvet. then, he glances to the other side of the bed, finding it still so tidy.

you were gone. just like you usually do.

a frown decorates jaeyun's face as he gulps his saliva down. shaking his head and straining his face to not let his burning eyes let out something full of disappointment, but also leftover guilt.

he sits up and rested his bare and hurting back against the headboard, feeling his flaccid cock brushing against the material as the cold hits his torso, making him snuggle more into the cover. his eyesight skims around the room—finding evidence of his rendezvous with you still there as he formulates memories to hold onto the remnants of them. jaeyun found his clothing pieces and bag scattered on the rugged floor. but he doesn't recognise the book that is lying there as well.

jaeyun's legs almost fall out as he stands up, feeling how his muscles are tired from the intercourse, meeting the sensation of being half awake as he steps onto the rug-textured floor. eyes on the book's silhouette as he steps forward and picks it up—even with his joints hurting from holding his body up to not crush you. he recognised the distinct texture of the book as a moleskine notebook when he brushed against a protruding sticky note on the top of the book. opening the page where it is sticking, his eyes widen when he looks at what is written.

five makeshift lines stretch from one edge of the page to the other horizontally. filled in circles and x symbols scattered and placed on the lines, and he also sees the flags on the right side of the circle of x. jaeyun can read these symbols, already hearing the parts playing in his head with what each of them associates with. he looks to the top of the page, finding the words "rosanna shuffle" with lots of underlines. then it clicks in his head as he recognises the sound. how the beat sound with the stops and ghost notes as it continues to the keyboard part playing in his head when he recalls the song that this very shuffle drum part comes from: rosanna by toto.

it's a drum notation. but it is not his. and there is only one other person who came into the room hours ago with him.

it must be yours.

with his mind expanding about the knowledge, he flips open the rest of the pages as he finds more drum notations with notes scribbled on the space around the main musical staves. drum notations from songs he identifies like easy lover by philip bailey and phil collins, head over heels by tears for fears, in bloom by nirvana, and even reckoner by radiohead. but when the pages he flips come nearer and nearer to the front of the notebook, he finds notations that have more scribbles to them, like they are so regularly revised. looking at the top of the page, jaeyun scans the names of songs he doesn't know. utopia? animal noises? voyager? he questioned the words as he arrived at the very first page of the notebook.

thumbing it around, he found the same phrase that shows up on the top of the page alongside those words he had questioned—the words he realises are song titles. and so, he reads the phrase he found beside each title; the name of the band that he voiced out.

"dawndreamer."

-

as the door clicks behind you, feet dragging against the rugged floor with your shoes and undergarments held within your hands, you eye the dark room with a lone small lamp lit up on the desk as you hear the sniffles coming from the sleeping sophia tucked in her bed. the sweat is sticking onto your skin along with yours and jaeyun's cum trailing down your thighs and drying there.

honestly, you feel like shit and you look like it too when you step into bathroom after dropping your items by your bed. the lights on the ceiling shine down on you as you see your reflection. marks and hickeys marred your skin from your neck to your wrists. swollen lips and eyes staring back from the mirror as you scan yourself until they dart lowly at the porcelain sink. your hands holding onto the edge of it with your fingers curling into the material—giving a small pressure on them before turning towards the shower.

in the past three months of your situation with jaeyun, never had you outwardly used him like that. yes, most of the times when you both fuck each other is when he wants to let out pent up adrenaline so he can go to sleep easily—the others are where you both are horny—but being that rough has never occured in every session you have held before the last. your mind was blanking on some memories there that look more and more like vignettes instead. the euphoric state captures you as you witness yourself from a helicopter view; how elevated the sensation is as you enter a domain filled with absolute pleasure. but when it dies down as you regain consciousness, sensing him still inside you as you didn't stick to your own bargain of the deal, which is to return to your room right after, you realise that it has consequences.

the cold water washes down your skin as you lather it with bubbles from the shower gel. hisses coming out of you when you felt a slight tinge of hurt as some part of the skin that was scraped open from that sensation. but you deserve that when you push him to do so and he also says no to it, because the memories of why you did that don't erase fully; especially now with the added weight of this whole ordeal alongside it. and so, you start to rub down your skin a bit harder, feeling the numbness of your muscles from the stretch and bruises coming from that session as well.

guilt climbs into your veins as you can taste its bitterness in your mouth, not even knowing how long you had stayed in the shower in the dead of night until you notice your fingertips getting wrinkly. when you finally wear only a simple, oversized t-shirt over your underwear and gulp down your birth control pill, you don't hesitate to quickly grab and consume your antidepressant pill as well. primarily because of what happened today and the emotions you felt when you heard the very song playing in that karaoke room's speakers. it is true. sophia knows you can sing—there are numerous times you had unconsciously sung the song you play in the shower and she has complimented you for it—but because it is the final stop of the tour and knowing it may be the last time you will have fun with the core team, you can't help but to say yes. you just didn't know that this song would hit you with that pain once again.

it has been two years since you last came to haeyang. two years since the day that changed your trajectory forever. you gaze at the lit-up path on the side of the beach from your room's window, looking at the dark waves coming closer to the ground like it is crawling back into your heart. that is when you see the shining beacon from the lighthouse, adding more to the overwhelming sensation of the muffled crashes of waves as you turn around to go and tidy up your items. all the memories that are flowing in make you push to suppress them as best as possible by doing anything else other than wallowing in those emotions invoked while waiting for the pill to kick in and make you sleepy.

placing your bag on the bed, you rummage through it as you feel everything there, your wallet, your camcorder, your phone; except one item.

quickly, you pour your belongings on top of your mattress as you scan each item. dread slowly but surely shows up prominently and filters your sight. because you couldn't find the rectangle silhouette as it is separated by its pen, now lonely between your phone and your wallet.

your notebook is gone.

fingers twitching, you recall every trace of the steps you have taken with that bag of yours. that includes when you wake up in the vehicle that is nearing the motel and when you carry it along with your luggage into the room right after it. the bag is with you when all seven of you go to the karaoke place and you never pull out anything out of it once through out that part—including when you cry at that fucking song. then, you remember your strap slipping down your body as the bag follows with jaeyun's lips on yours, brushing those thoughts away with his touches.

jaeyun might have your book.

with a palm slap on your forehead, you rub it down your face before massaging your creases as best as you could with the frown showing on your face full of embarrassment. he might've read it. he might've caught onto something that you have been hiding when you moved on. but you never truly move on, don't you? jaeyun could put all the points together with the way you can sing, especially in how shocked his expression looks when you start to sing after so long in such a loud volume amplified by the microphone.

you gazed down at your palm, seeing the calluses in creases of each of your digits as you felt them burn with the sensation. folding them into a fist all balled up, the sensation is gone as you pack up your things and put your bag on the desk before turning off the desk lamp. your figure, shrouded in darkness, walks to lie down on your designated bed. the only source of light is from the moonlight coming into the window that you haven't fully covered with the curtain as you hide your whole body under the duvet, hiding from everything, as you know that you have to confront him in the daytime. preferably today before he spreads it to his friends.

when you wake as the moonlight is replaced by the sunlight coming in from the window, you pivot back to find sophia still asleep deeply after the effect of the alcohol she has probably taken more after you and jaeyun left the place. you tug on the hoodie and sweatpants you had owned since high school as you eyed the clock that is telling you to get brunch, your rumbling tummy reminding you as well. eyeing your phone screen with notifications from the group chat that includes all seven of the main amperhyphen crew, sunghoon and euijoo are already at the american-style diner that you had remembered seeing when you walked down the sidewalk with jaeyun. knowing that if someone has already staked their position to eat, the rest will follow, including jaeyun.

your footsteps feel heavy as you walk towards the stairs to the ground floor of the motel, striding towards the pavement when you turn your head and find the diner building so near to the motel. biting your lip, you brace yourself and rush there as fast as possible.

eyes gaze at the exposed clear window where people are eating their meals, you barge in with a dingling bell sounding at the top of the doorframe. but your sight is set on the five boys with differing hair colours sitting down on the booth table whilst waiting for their meals to come, with the appearance of the boy with dusty blond hair making your nostrils flare.

when you arrived at the table, the four boys were talking amongst each other as the last one—the blond one—listened in on the conversation. but his hand was rubbing against the front cover of a notebook and gently touching the pages on the side like he owns it: your notebook.

"there she is." jay had spoken when he was the first one to find you approached. but, quickly with an eye on a gap in his hold on your book, you quickly snatched and held it close to your chest and heart. a deep frown forms on your facial expression as you look at the blond boy.

"for fuck sake, don't you know not to read what other people owns?" your statement startled the boys and also the waittress tending to the counter after the last customer other than the people you are working with steps away and go do their activities outside. your words are aimed at one person who is looking at you with wide eyes.

"(y/n)! i didn't know you are also a-"

"so what?!" you retorted, making jaeyun flinch as you glance at the faces that the others have. nicholas, who sat next to him, looks at you before looking away. euijoo, who moves his eyes to look at him mixing his milkshake with a paper straw, and jay, who has a look of curiosity in his pair. every gaze that you capture with your eyes of their eye contact goes away when you catch and decipher the look coming from them—including sunghoon, who you believe is the one most logical about this situation, still looks away from your fiery stare. because combined with the way they act, their eyes are telling everything.

they know. jaeyun told them.

your foot reacted immediately, retreating your body away from their booth as you shook your head with an even bigger swing. punishing them for their inner cats chasing into their curiosity about something so personal to you, not minding that they will get killed even with a swipe of your movement. hugging the book tight against your chest, you secure it as you run as quickly to the door—hearing the shout of your name in jaeyun's recognisable voice as you don't stop.

leaping down the small flight of stairs of the diner's entrance, your shoulder was hit as you looked back and found sophia's surprised expression quickly turning into one that was full of concern.

"are you okay?" she asked—not like you aren't the one who slammed her and you have to be the one asking it instead. but you couldn't refute like you usually do. hiding it will make it worse. the city itself, the memories you have of this city, and the love you lost in this city all come back as you stare into her soft, worry eyes. for the first time in a while in this situation, you shake your head in disagreement with sophia's question as a tear fell down your cheek. you are not okay.

you push yourself away from the diner and the parking lot as you run on the pavement. your mind is set on one place as everything you tried by coping against it—from drugs like the antidepressant to the sex like you had last night—doesn't work to get rid of it. it doesn't work when you are outnumbered by the nightmares as you let your feet carry you away, knowing where they will make you go as you turn the corner on the edge of the street, running to the one with a name that you recognise.

each steps feel so heavy, reminiscent of last night when you walked out of jaeyun's room. but you still let the aesthetic of the town sink into you as you gaze at the building no taller than five stories high. chipped painted walls of some building exteriors scattered in the view, letting you see the mostly mom-and-pop shops' signage. views of cafes with their sitting area bleeding out towards the sidewalk to some places with a small patch of soil to accommodate the growing tree rooted there. but, your eyes are focused on the signs with the street names, combing through to find what you are looking for: the intersection.

the four-way intersection is mostly clear as you can see the clear markings of newly painted crossroads on all sides and the warning yellow cross at the square between the four streets. yet, all you could see at that intersection is yourself, all tussled as you gaze down one of the streets to the truck that scurries away down the road. the corner shop staff at the intersection go out to look at the wreckage with a few other bystanders helping the other passengers—your friends—as you turn to face the reflective surface of the metal. hand on your phone from calling emergency services as you just know, you just know that you might be the only one that survived.

at the corner of the four-way intersection, alone under the sky nearing noon, you crumbled.

your figure falls onto your knees as you hug the notebook so tightly against your chest. body trembling as you let the tears fall out of you in a free fall, reaching your neck and staining your hoodie as you sobbed hard. and, with your body leaning down against the concrete into a bow, you prayed. you prayed for your friends who didn't survive that day, prayed for any higher power out there to elevate you from the memory of this place. but, even after two years, you can only sense the underlying guilt and grief remain in dormant until it all comes out at this moment.

you gaze at your wrist as you decide to bow down before placing the palm against the textured concrete surface, seeing faint slit marks of self-harm that even goes deeper and breaks a vein—many times of contemplating suicide as you just want the pain to go away. you don't deserve to be the only one living. you should've died with your friends that day. and as you remembered how pale their faces have become when you acknowledge that there is no oxygen flowing through their veins anymore, you wail into the morning space as everything that you have been suppressing all arrives back to you.

the way that you could've fucking avoid their deaths on your hands as the one on the steering wheel, to swerve or even press on the brake even if you are supposed to move because the light is green. the following court case on the truck driver as you are brought into the town's courthouse as a victim and witness. the faces of your friends' pictures as you attended their funerals, which all of your families agreed to be buried side by side with each other. their families treat you like their daughter because their own daughters are all deep under the soil. how you had lost your dream forever as it goes along with them.

your palm pushes you back to a kneeling position, feeling every tear and snot all come out of you as you don't even mind rubbing the palm dirtied by pavement onto your face. that is when you felt a warm hug around your shoulders when you heard the familiar feminine voice you've found comfort in in the last three months.

"the boys are so fucking shitty. they were only just standing there, but i can't stay still and i had to run after you," she said into your ear, humouring you with her usual cadence in talking as you let her move your torso upright, still sobbing out as you let your head hang in her embrace.

even if sophia is just a friend that you know from attending college, she has been there since day one. she knows you had some depressive thoughts and she has seen your wrist bandaged when you went into the class you share with her. but, she doesn't know that this is the thing that triggers all of it and how severe it is with how you have to be prescribed pills to help function yourself if it gets too much. because all you wanted was to move on, to move on from those broken dreams you shared with your friends, from the fame you receive even momentarily, to live your life while able to balance your love for music—to be able to play the drums openly again. and as you kneeled there, continue with praying with your inner voice at the makeshift shrine you imagine in that corner of the intersection, you let out a huge breath that is still as shaky as ever as you turn your head, facing sophia who is looking down at your kneeling body with huge frown on her face.

"i, i have to tell you something."

jaeyun is still in a daze as he watches you running away, his feet following your path when he catches sophia's glare through the window before she chases after you onto the sidewalk you were running on. his eyes trail her figure as she disappears, feeling his heartbeat also jogging as he turns his head towards his friends. call him naive, but jaeyun doesn't know why you reacted that way. he wants to embrace you into his arms when he finds out you can play drums, proudly telling his boys that you have been playing drums by showing them the drum parts you are learning or able to play. some of the songs even shocked them as they teased him that he couldn't even play it—already set up a jamming session so you could play with them as well after the tour ended.

with your explosive reaction that startles him, he knows that there is something deeper as to why you didn't tell him or the others you used to play drums. for that reason, it left him in intrigue as his mind is echoing the name of your band.

so, jaeyun walks to the counter all by himself, sitting on one of the stools that overlooks the preparation area as he gazes at an older woman preparing the food and an androgynous-looking girl cleaning up the place. the girl hears the bell from the window in the kitchen area as she turns and picks up the orders from the table and brings them towards their booth. while the old lady picks up the plate of jaeyun's order and places it on the counter before him. her salt and pepper hair makes jaeyun let out a small smile as he peeks down to see that there is a strawberry donut he didn't order on the small plate beside his brunch.

"on the house," the old lady says, seemingly able to read his expression full of conflicting emotions.

"thank you, ma'am." jaeyun replies curtly as he gazed at the food and then at his trembling hands. one of them slowly picks up the heavy weight of his phone from his sweatpants pocket when he remembers what the guys also said when he shows your notebook to them.

"i also don't know who dawndreamer is," sunghoon said.

"wait, so (y/n) used to be in a band?" jongseong questioned, and the boys continued to discuss as jaeyun quickly grabs the open book that is placed in the middle of the table into his grasp.

his fingers itch as he finally opens his browser and types "dawndreamer" into the search inquiry. pressing enter, the first thing that shows up is the name and the subtitle underneath it: "rock band." in the picture section, he finds a monochrome photo of what looks to be a picture of four teenage girls. their faces are pretty blurry as jaeyun scrolled down to find the first two links of the band for their instagram and bandcamp.

the instagram account opens as he presses on it, letting him see the pictures that are mostly abstract arts and the band members doing something, with the recent one being a post of black background and white text: an announcement post. so, jaeyun presses the last post before it, seeing the date to see that it was last posted two years ago. most of the posts are the usual posts he sees posted in amperhyphen's own instagram account, showing their artistry and authenticity as emerging indie musicians. he scrolls through a post full of photos of the girls in high school uniform showcasing their favourite vinyl LPs they own, such as sufjan stevens to vampire weekend, like it is a showcase of who they are as musicians and their inspiration as they cultivate their own flavour. but one post captures his attention. the recognisable face he admires.

it was a picture of you behind a drum kit, the stick you are holding is blurry as the photo was captured mid-action when you are twirling it. it is a candid picture as you are looking another way towards the ride cymbal. the background is dark so as to make you the focal point. you haven't had your septum piercing as he couldn't see a glint of light under your nose even with the flash photography. staring at that image, you look so comfortable behind the kit, like he also feels as scans and recognises that your kit is pretty similar to his.

scrolling upwards, he finds the pixelated post he had scrolled past to notice that it is a video. jaeyun watches as the video starts, a band—dawndreamer—that is playing their instruments in the small venue as he presses the volume button on the side of his phone to hear it louder. the frame was so pixelated he could only focus on the sound, hearing your drum part playing tightly with the strumming guitar chords as the bass comes in, adding the harmonies alongside another voice that sings along. jaeyun's eyes focused on the drums as he could see the pixelated image of you playing the drum full of intensity, seeing the movement matching to the sound that he is hearing as jaeyun's eyebrows furrows whilst looking at your pixelated self—holding the song on as the glue between every other members instrumental parts before the video loop in back to the start.

jaeyun's breath was taken away from him as he scrolled back up to the recent post, finally meeting the announcement post he dreaded to read as he also looked at the date it was posted. two years ago. the last update of the band that he just got to know. the last update of the band you played in—a part of you you never told him before. and so, he reads what the white text says.

eyes_on_dawndreamer: thank you for everything.

for all the support, the prayers, and the words of encouragement. we won the suit in haeyang's courthouse and that is all because of your support too. we were four girls with a big dream in revolutionising alternative rock music—a dream we had shared with each other since we created this band during our second year of high school, to then releasing singles and EPs on bandcamp, to even going on tours as we have all graduated. and now, all that remains is one girl. i would like to thank gaeul, tsuki, and ningning for being there for me. they are the bestest friends a girl could have wished for. and i hope that all three of them could be happy wherever they are in the skies.

as for the band, it doesn't feel right to continue without them—as a one-woman band or even adding new members. dawndreamer is as much their band as it is mine. it is not complete without them when i can only do so much because they all complete me. and with all the respect i have for that name and that dream of ours, i decide that this is the end of dawndreamer. i would love to thank every person who helped us to reach these heights, from the crewhands to you: the fans, who have been patient with all of this process. i am saddened that this cuts away the chance for us to greet you. to perform before you.

the dawn will always rise

-(y/n), your fellow dawndreamer.

as the sombre tone of the post hums in his head, he pulls out his headphones from his bag and puts them on before opening the bandcamp website that links to dawndreamer. inside it, he sees numerous cover art of your band's releases as he presses on one of them randomly, finding out that it is one of the EPs you were talking about in the post. he doesn't hesitate to press play on streaming the digital track at the top as he scrolls down to read the comments, praises singing towards the EP as he couldn't help but smile at the comments. then, your voice pierces through the song with the strumming guitar playing underneath. the voice that hints at certain emotions as you sing the lyrics while the drum plays with the rhythm of open hi-hats and kick bass. he can already see how you will play this live and how beautiful it will be as you open the song and the show with your voice and drum playing.

jaeyun felt his eyes were burning with tears as he let the bandcamp stream play the EP when he opened another tab to continue his research of your band, finally able to scroll down the search result when the third result showed him a news headline. a headline that makes him feel a heavy thump in his heart:

dawndreamer's gaeul, ningning, and tsuki pass away in a car accident, (y/n) survives.

-

for the rest of the day, jaeyun hadn't heard back from you directly. the last information about you came from sophia who told the group that you would be joining back tomorrow, as they are setting up the stage to continue your job in recording the behind-the-stage b-roll footages. yet, he knows more about you than ever, especially concerning the car accident you experienced in this very town.

the numerous articles he had read created multiple tabs in his browser that even made him stay up at night—he can't even comprehend what you are feeling even with all the information the internet has shown him about this. about you. about your band. about the case. how you were the only survivor of the car crash, and how you were in the driver's seat that day. how you, as the only surviving band member, decided to put your effort into getting the driver jail time and pay for the damages, especially to your bandmates' family—even if you are still 18 years old. how you were on tour at that time, the day after the crash was supposed to be your concert day at haeyang. how you were a prolific drummer that even many articles have mentioned your playing, dawndreamer being highlighted as bands to follow not knowing that it will only be so short of a career. how you are technically his senior in the music industry, becoming a performing drummer at 16 while jaeyun just started making songs with his amperhyphen bandmates during college freshman year.

words are being ingrained in his head as he realises a lot of things about you that click in his mind. how you sometimes fidget in a rhythm that you caught from anywhere you can hear them, like the drop of water to tapping on a laptop's keyboard. how as you watched them rehearse whilst sitting in one of the seats by the FOH, you tapped your thighs in rhythm with his drumming; your camera on your lap as you had gotten enough behind-the-stage footage to edit for the next set of posts to publish at the band's social media. the way he could feel faint bumps between the folds of your fingers—smoothed-out calluses that he also got from playing the drums that you have also helped bandage around his fingers, eyes focusing down as he looked at you attentively, like you are reminiscing about something as you seemed to familiar in fixing up these types of injuries.

when sleep came to him, the last thing on his mind was your peaceful face when you are asleep on top of him. too tired out from your sexy time with him but full of blissfulness when jaeyun's thumb smoothed out the creases on your face.

that nagging feeling continued to last inside his mind when he came to the diner once again to order breakfast, finding sunghoon talking to the phone with the corner of his lips turned upwards. as the manager's eyes found his friend, the call ended as he turned towards jaeyun.

"the instruments arrived last night. the stage crew are setting them up as we're having the rehearsal tomorrow morning. i'll be going there after finishing up breakfast," his friend uttered with a stern voice and a slight brush of relief. the boy nods before thinking back to those ghost notes he had caught onto and seared into his memory. the ghost drumming sound that always comes up right when he arrives at the venue to do his rehearsal. if his assumption is correct, he had to go there to witness it with his own two eyes—because he has his guesses and one of them is the certainty of who is the one making those notes.

"can i go earlier with you? right after i'm done with my breakfast?" jaeyun tugs in his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, making sunghoon gaze at his body to see how truthful his friend is asking of him with raised eyebrows.

"sure. right after your breakfast." the boy looks down at the empty booth as they both sit across from each other, letting the girl from the diner last time take in both of their orders.

with his stomach full, jaeyun gazes out the window of the shotgun seat beside sunghoon, watching as the town buildings slowly morph into tall and lush forests that shade the scenery as the car continues to drive on the road. his head leaned against the glass overlooking the outside as he also found what looked to be a bus stop littering the side of the streets meters between each other. as he continued to gaze outside, the vehicle drove up onto the hilly road as it climbed up to the venue. then, a few hundred meters from the last bus stop, his sight came across slivers of a large land behind the trees as jaeyun heard the clicks of the turn signal and sunghoon moved the steering wheel to let the car go inside the lot.

it is mostly empty except for trucks and other vehicles that are parked, as he recalls that those are the vehicles bringing the stuff for the concert tomorrow. leaning forward against the dashboard, he gazes at the venue, which looks to be a lone abandoned convenience store that supposedly has everything. it is large enough to be a concert venue as he finds various posters stuck on the wall and the boarded windows with wooden planks. a concert venue that is so his style and where his band can see them perform at.

when he stepped out of the open car door, sunghoon was already walking first as he greeted one of the moving crews and the ones with the concert staff. they all gave a handshake towards jaeyun as the group moved toward the side of the buildings for the backstage entrance. behind the doorframe was a dark space that looked so faint until he stepped closer to find the silhouette getting more vivid—gazing at the lights that line up the hallways.

"are all of the instruments inside?" sunghoon had asked.

"yes, we have finished assembling the drums and speaker while the other stagehands are testing the lights. one of your crews is also checking in," the head crew said to sunghoon as jaeyun let out a slight pout. then, he heard it. the faint drumming voice from inside the venue. he had a guess who this crew member is because one of the three main crew—sunghoon, sophia, and you—only one can play the drums. jaeyun's heart is beating hastily as he peers into the darkness where the sound comes from, hoping that all of his predictions are right.

his footsteps follow the hallways lit up with the minimal lighting to test out the stagelights, arriving at the larger backstage area where he recognises the crates of his drums and cymbals. the sound gets louder and louder before the rhythm falters. then it starts again, the snare, kick drum, and hi hats moving in a mixture of a half time and a shuffle. the hesitation from the first round of playing becomes more confident as it continues. he walks down the path to the wing of the stage, noticing the beam of the light shining down on the stage as he pushes past to get to a clearer view; the sound dimmers as he stands by the wing overlooking the exposed part of the stage.

underneath that beam of light is you, sitting on the throne behind his drum kit, holding onto his drumsticks as he steps closer to the edge of the wing, one step away from the stage. jaeyun watches as you sit there, holding the sticks upright as your eyes are closed, mouths moving slowly like you are meditating. you look ethereal behind the drum kit. your posture signals that you are so comfortable there that he can relegate his space to you, too. deep down in his heart, he regretted not knowing it sooner, and you had to actually hide it because of what happened—playing behind the backs of people who are helping to succeed his band.

your head leans down and looks at the open notebook on the stand, your phone leaning against the page as he watch your finger presses on what looks to be an audio folder. after the press, your voice speaks out, but it is coming from the speaker of the phone as you count down like a metronome. then you started drumming, hitting the parts of the shuffle with your hi-hats and kick drum playing in a steady and fast rhythm as the other stick plays the ghost notes on the snare. the rhythm plays like the notations he reads from your notebook.

as piano and guitar enter, his eyebrows are lifted as he witnesses how you are doing the rosanna shuffle so well. even if he likes progressive rock music like toto and yes, he has always thought of playing their drum parts later in his career because he is not prepared enough. even with the mix meters he recognises from playing a lot of math rock, many of prog rock songs are longer to play and complicated. but you play it flawlessly, a shuffle so tight he could see your written notation floating above your head as he remembered.

the way you drum has a level of tenacity that makes him more mesmerised by you. but that constant cycle of awe cuts short as he also heard the sound of you talking back in the song—like you made the edit layered with your voice for a reason.

"here comes the slow part, one, two." your voice talks from the recording as the song enters the prechorus that stops the shuffle altogether before it ends with a few crashes and you counting down back to the shuffle as the chorus plays. jaeyun couldn't help but mouth the lyrics as he saw that you were doing the same. then, your voice gets louder as you enter the second verse, singing along with the song. a smile grows on the boy's voice on how your singing doesn't break the rhythm of the shuffle and the timing for the crash that transition to verse section b. he watches as your eyelids are nearly shut, slowly getting into the space: the space he is always so addicted to when he gets in—a flow state that he got when he is drumming. no other thing can distract him from that flow state as the world melts away.

jaeyun's head bops as he gazes at the way you smile unconsciously; the spotlight shining on you as he can see the way your lips are now grinning so widely. the realisation hits him as the numerous ghost notes he had caught listening to before his rehearsal are you practising the drum part of the song, from the half-time shuffle to the part where you move to the ride cymbal. and this is the time you are truly nailing it. every single hit of the drums, every single beat that you feel running through your body, you have done so by following the recording of your voice guiding you through the song. like a rally driver with her navigator marking each turn and each gear shift changes, cruising through the race track that is rosanna by toto. jaeyun thinks that this idea is ingenious, especially combined with the notation notes he had seen you write—maybe there's the reason why you are so brave enough to learn hard drum parts by prolific drummers of history, such as the likes of neil peart in rush and john bonham in led zeppelin.

but then he saw your eyebrows creased as the song landed in the last pre-chorus, your eyes were still closed as he noticed the wrinkles around your face's t-zone before you shook your head and continued drumming. jaeyun felt his breath hitch as he heard your sob that echoed towards him. the spotlight allows him to catch the sheen of liquid coming from your eyes as you try not to stagger with your hands that are playing the last crash transition. you mouthed the lyrics with your heart as you entered the last chorus. the boy finally noticed your tears coming down in a free-fall down your cheeks. a long exhaled breath coming out of him as he watches with raised eyebrows and squinted eyes.

he understands it now. he felt it. how cathartic it seems for you to do this, nearing the end and nearly failed but you persist. the frown of your face forming as you're realising something and he can only assume it, but you might be doing this whole thing for your bandmates who died here in haeyang. to know that you are still capable of drumming. a swan song that tells the universe that even without them, you can still drum.

as the main song ended with the fading piano solo, your drumming still continues as you play a solo section that he is also witnessing. playing the tom-toms still in the beat as you improvise with the ending, adding crashes as you interplay the half-time shuffle with your own pizzazz. with the hot spotlight beaming down on you as he could see your face wet by tears and sweat, his breath was carried away. how he could see how you pour every strand of your drumming skill into your muscles when he also got a flicker of what looks to be blood flying from the hands gripping onto the sticks. your eyes now open widen as you heave, creating the most satisfactory ending when you realized that the song and your voice that is navigating your playing has stopped, ending with cymbals crashing before the last cymbal crash, kick drum, and snare hits altogether, making you actualy jump from the stool as the sound echoes in the empty venue. his breathing noise becomes loud as the sound frequency travels from the drum kit, echoing all over the venue. then, jaeyun heard it; the sobs kicking in as you lean your head down, back hunch, and shoulders shaking.

you couldn't stop shaking, pain flowing through your body from muscles strains to heartache as you looked at your hands, opening the folded fingers while slowly holdng onto the drumsticks to witness your bloodied hands, two cuts form at the fold between your forefinger and middle of the palm on each hands as blood continue to pour and gather at the opening. your eyes looked beyond the drum kit to the space where the audience should be standing, to find no one there. to find out that your friends aren't there watching you. doubts that have haunted you numerous times during practice sessions for this drum part come in like a flood, that whatever you practice and what comes after is all a failure. that they will not come back.

they did not come back.

in the empty venue with a lone stage and a spotlight on you, your cry rings against the walls. the acoustics of the room make it even louder as you curl up to yourself as best as you can, swiftly bringing your bloodied hands to yourself so that it doesn't stain jaeyun's snare drum—not minding at all if it will stain your clothes instead. though as your heart continue to hurt, you just can't help yourself to put the your bloody palm agaisnt the left side of your chest; feeling the ache inside you squeezing in both catharticness of finally able to play the drum part until you are satisfy and the onslaught of hopelessness replacing it instead. the aftermath hurts like a drug redrawal, particularly as the realization hits that even with playing the drum part perfectly, your friends, your bandmares; they're not coming back.

that's when you heard the sound of a few sniffles coming from the stage wing. turning your head, you find jaeyun and his frowning face, looking back towards you.

you carefully wipe your tears away from your eyes, feeling the warm blood staining a little bit on your face as you say, "i'm sorry for staining your drumsticks. i can replace it if you want."

"no, no." jaeyun exclaims as he steps out to the stage, jogging towards you as he treks on to the foundation of where his drum kit sits and kneels on the floor, facing his body towards you. your fingers continue to shake as more of your grip on his stick loosens. his eyes look at them before you when he watched you close your eyes and let another onslaught of tears fall once again.

"i, i hope," you hiccuped, "that if i could play the rosanna drum part perfectly, then my bandmates can come back to me." you bit your lip even for a few moments after mumbling out, head shaking once again, "but it doesn't change anything. they're gone. they left me behind. i…" you looked down at your palm to watch the streaks of blood and it staining the wooden sticks, "i should've gone with them."

"i'm here," jaeyun could only utter. you open your eyes and meet his, feeling the sincerity exuding out of him as you continue to your jittering to get rid of it all; knowing that it is not as simple as that.

"you've must have known i'm a drummer when you found my notebook." your gaze is still on the floor before turning to face his drums for a few seconds, "i, i also want to apologise for playing your drums. i shouldn't have done that without asking for your permission."

"i forgive you, (y/n)," the boy carefully handpicked his words, knowing that you are in such a fragile state. he should've never even taken advantage of you that night, even if you pushed him on to continue, now understanding how much pain you are feeling even if he now knows you are using sex to cope with them. he doesn't mind kneeling for so long right there in front of you as you take your time to process everything. he watches over you and the way your fingers still twisted up against the drumsticks—not wanting to let go. when you hiss as the surge of pain comes from the open wound on your palm, your eyes look down at how jaeyun is holding on to your wrists so gently. the weight of his touch on your limbs lets you know that you aren't fully alone now.

your eyes blinked as you felt the warmth inside you thawing whatever rigidness you had built as a shield, knowing that yes, you have to talk about this sooner or later. all of this because he is also involved.

"can you stay by my side today?" your request had made him lift his eyebrows which you then follow with, "i feel safe with you." jaeyun nodded instantly, letting him pull the sticks of out your hands and places it in his bag as he helps you stand up, gathering your belongings into your bag before giving it back to you—not even letting go of his hold on you.

the boy stayed beside you as he watched the water turning a tint of red as you washed the dried blood on your hands, not even caring to clean up the stains of blood on your clothes, as you looked up at the mirror to find your swollen face and you exhaled with tremors. gently tapping on the hand with tissue so lightly, you met his gaze in the mirror's reflection as he watched you with a certain level of sadness. when you lean into him, he accepts you with his arm wrap around your waist as he gives a small kiss on your temple, holding you close as he follows you to whatever place you want to go.

your eyes met with sunghoon's—whose face is surprised but changes into a slight frown when he sees you—and he gives you a curt nod as jaeyun brings you away. you both left the venue's lot and stepped onto the bus. your head rested against the wide window as jaeyun still has his eyes on you, carefully holding your wrist even if he wants to interlock your fingers, because pressure on your wounds will just hurt you more. the bus drives down the hilly forest into the downtown area as you both step down at the bus stop by the beach that is overlooking the orange sky and the sun going nearer to the horizon.

you both sit down on the bench by the beach. the view of the lighthouse on top of the cliff paints more to the ambience that is the town of haeyang as you hold your hands to your lap. jaeyun is sitting beside you with his back leaning against the bench's backrest as he gazes at the beautiful view of sparkling water by the setting sun. then you started talking, reiterating what he might have known by the time he had found your book to this current moment. how you have your own band like his amperhyphen called dawndreamer, but your bandmates died in this particular town from a car accident against a truck.

"i was there, driving the car, and i can't help but be responsible for that event in my life." you let out a short chuckle as you continue to look at the glimmering water from the shining sun, knowing that jaeyun will listen. "we were listening to our shared rock playlist when we arrived in haeyang for our concert. rosanna by toto was playing as we all are basically continuing our carpool karaoke session. i also can't help but drum along by tapping against the steering wheel. as we drive to a green light four-way intersection when a truck comes through and slams into us from the passenger side of the car. we tumbled as the truck doesn't even fucking brake, continue to drive on and even slamming onto a lamp post before driving away. rosanna was the last song my friends heard as their pale skin just tells me that they're gone. the song that i will always cherish now." you can't help but blink away a little burn from the tears that are starting to form.

"you were driving in the intersection at a green light. you did the best you could."

"i should've…" you cut jaeyun off instantly before shaking your head, "i don't know why i'm telling you this. we're fucking friends after all." hearing the words that define your relationship nudges a little pain that blossoms in his heart, "but maybe, me talking about this could make you help me navigate all of this, especially because i've been using your drums too. without a verbal permission."

jaeyun moves his body and fully faces you as your fingers continue to curl and uncurl, knowing that rubbing the sweat off your palm would make the pain worse. the sunlight shines into your eyes, your side profile is mesmerising as ever, as he recalls back that your words say that you don't see him the way he sees you, especially in the ever-growing relationship you have.

"for the past three months, it has been such a wonderful time touring with you. with all of amperhyphen and sunghoon, and, and sophia too. seeing you on stage makes me feel like i live vicariously through you. we had similar genres going on with our music, so i can already imagine playing your drum parts on the stage. i was determined to be your friend, but we became something more… physical." you peek towards his side, making you tilt your head even a bit so he knows he is getting your attention, "but there is something more there as well."

you lightly bite your lip as a small scoff bubbles out from you, "you were holding me so warmly, especially in our last two stops. you always sat beside me when you first realised that i drink pills for motion sickness when we are doing long intercity trips, because that's one of the side effects from the car accident. you're trying to make me stay in your room when we agree that we will go back to each of our rooms after each fuck. but i always felt like you were stringing me along as i tried my best to stay down and deep on the ground, where i lay out myself so that i don't have to be swayed by you."

as jaeyun takes in all your words in his mind, from the denial to the bargaining, he is struggling to find the right words because he remembers all the times you left his room at night, all the times he had felt right after you went away from every fuck session you both had—including quickies and what not—and how he realizes that you're always cool at the receiving end of it all. that certain coolness also allowed him to be clingy when you reacted so naturally, but much of what you mentioned, he is doing them unconsciously. the last time you went to sleep with him was the first time you demanded him to do something, realising just how awful the power dynamic has been with knowing his situation as a musician and you are his staff. he can understand now what you meant by "stringing you around" because every time you both interact for intercourse, it is at his behest. and then he treats you more outside of it, too—knowing that that is not what you two agreed on.

jaeyun had wanted to give you a signal that yes, he does that because he cares for you. that what he is doing outside of the bedroom is his way to repay you for what you both have done. that he felt worried when you said that you were too tired or too sickly. that he discerned how his lips twitched when he heard you laugh at whatever his friends were saying. that he can't help but still be so mezmerized when watching you under the spotlight and even under the setting sun right now. he wants so much to repay you, to let him treat you like you treat him.

"every time you left after we fuck, i am always awake when i supposed to go to sleep." your eyes glance to the corner as he started speaking. your eyebrows starting to fold. "at the beginning, it was quick, five minutes to 10 minutes, when i just think about how you felt against me before that. but as we got into more of them, it gets longer, 30 minutes to one hour to then more." he lets his eyes meet yours.

"it was just me trying to take you in deeper than just surface-level memory: into my heart. when at first i was thinking about your body, then i started thinking about you in general. how in that time that feels so long before going to sleep, i was craving your warmth." jaeyun moved his hands, making you look down at how he is clenching them on his lap. "the last stop before haeyang, when you went away, i had contemplate to come and get you back, to let you sleep with me."

the boy let out a small chuckle before pursing his lips. "i did that actually. i stand in front of your door for 5 minutes, contemplating if i should get you back in my arms again for the night. but i can't, it breaks both of our boundaries that are going to be more bent beyond repair. and what happened two nights ago, when you were pushing me to fuck you so hard…" one of his hand move so he could feel yours, letting it graze your skin ever so slowly. "i'm so concerned for you, but you were having a bliss and you were pushing me to do so. so it's my turn to fulfil your wants that night. and then you stayed in my bed, exhausted. i stayed awake that night for a long time as i wrapped my arms around you and wish that i would still stay awake until you wake up, taking in that you're beside me." you peer down towards the hand that brushes against his, feeling the pain from the wound that are still there as you stretched the skin surface with your movement.

"what i want to say, in all of that rambling nonsense, is that i like you, (y/n). you playing the drums is a plus bonus because i already like you before that." his hand moved so he could touch your palm so gently, not wanting to press down on your hand as he continued. your eyes returning back to his face, who is now looking at the setting sun before glancing back to you. "i am addicted to your warmth and knowing how distant you've become the past few days makes me realize that i can't let you go like that. for the past three months, you're the one that has been there with me. understanding me when i sometimes rant out to you even if we didn't fuck that night. you were taking care of me, cleaning my makeup and patching me up when my drumstick broke and scratching my skin until it bled," he eyes your palm that is nearing to touch his, curling his fingers just for a little, but not adding pressure for a skin-to-skin contact.

"let me do that back to you. i want you to know that i'm here for you too, your beck and call, just like you are to me."

you take in his words, curving your fingers gently between his as you let out a huge sigh. you gaze back at the setting sun and the orange light filling up the sky around you. the sound of the crashing waves becomes the background noise for your process each and every phrase he had uttered about you. from the night after you left, to standing in front of the door, and his confession. you felt absolutely weird after saying what you said before him, but the lens you are seeing it through is changing from neutrality to a positive view.

after a slight squeeze coming from you in your connected hand, jaeyun lets out a silent exhale when you slip your hand from his touch, making him turn his head towards you as you still sense his light touch lingering on your skin. you finally spoke with a question.

"can you let me take it in first? let me process all of it?"

"absolutely." jaeyun immediately answered, "you're doing such a good job." he continued, leaving it so vague that it encompasses every worry you have of everything. you slowly stand up as you let your palm be grazed by the cool wind, taking a step backwards slowly towards the direction of your motel, which is so close to where the bench you both sat.

"good luck with the performance tomorrow, jaeyun."

he lets out a smile as you turn yourself around, glancing down at your swaying hands to see the blood staining your hand, then at his that was connected to your palm—seeing the little speck of your maroon blood on his skin. hollowness lets the air float inside him as he knew that that is what would happen anyway. that he does have feelings for you, he likes you and is very much interested in you, and the guilt is filling up because he was so fluctuating in his actions that he gives you mixed messages. jaeyun felt how his shoulders sag into himself. he will have to wait for you until you are ready with your answer, but for now, that worry also transfers to the state of tomorrow's performance.

the very last one. and he will have to pour it in with all of his might.

-

jaeyun's body jitters as he peeks out from the left wing of the stage, watching as more and more of the crowd enters the venue before turning around to face the backstage. he walked towards the vanity table where sophia had put makeup on him and the rest of his bandmates, lightly biting his lip ring as he gazed at the ruffled blond hair and his black and red tattoo on his left arm with the black tank top on through the mirror. he catches the sound of claps as he sees sunghoon standing nearby the stage, making him turn and walk towards him as he tucks in one side of his in-ear monitor. jongseong, euijoo, and nicholas all gather by their manager along with sophia who stands back. their faces are all full of smiles as he looks around and can't help for the smile to grow on his face too,

"come on! this is THE last stop. let's end it with a fucking banger." sunghoon had said as the other yells in excitement. he could see sophia taking the video of the band as they do their group cheer. hands on top of each other as jongseong—the designated frontman—starts the yell and they all move with their arms up high in synchrony. jaeyun's hands have bandages wrapped around the area he is most prone to cuts as he glances at the hand that taps on nicho's back and the other holding onto the set of drumsticks whilst they stay by the wing. when the lights from the building turned off, he could hear the crowd enrapturing in the darkness and he looked one last time at the wing to find no presence of you.

shaking the shivers off of him, he then steps onto the stage as more cheers come from the audience who are watching their moving silhouettes. jaeyun climbs on the foundation where his drum kit stands and sits on the stool, placing the drumsticks in each hand as he can't help to glance down, gripping onto the sticks that have your blood stains—the pair you were playing with yesterday. in this very moment, he remembered your words perfectly.

"seeing you on stage makes me feel like i live vicariously through you…"

and with the sticks you marked within his grip, you are now playing with him on the stage. he sure hoped that you were still watching him, even if he didn't see you before the concert starts.

he looks at the rest of his bandmates who are setting up their instruments, straps across their chest as jaeyun hears the familiar guitar tuning sound from the speaker. the pressure comes suddenly, digging onto his shoulders as he caught the eyes of each of his friends, all are assuring each other that they are ready as euijoo nods towards the stagehand at the side.

when he heard the click track in his ear, the spotlight lights up on jaeyun as he starts the song, knocking the drumsticks with each other as the rest of the band plays their first song, which starts with an instrumental. his head starts to buzz, focusing on the click track and also on nicho's bass as he plays the lines along with the drums. his eyebrows start to furrow, jaw tense as he plays the part and the transitions between each section of the song, like the many times he had practised and the few times he had to revise and improvised. yet, under that spotlight, he is reminded of you. you who had played his drum kit full of vigour, focusing on stabilising the rhythm and supporting the song as best as you could. jaeyun can see himself in third person, watching himself like he had watched you yesterday, drumming away under the stagelights and the vision from the audience watching them.

his hooded eyelids, a tell for him that is slowly going into the flow state, become wide open full of awareness when he gets into the right dosage, looking at every cymbal and tom before on euijoo's and jongseong's backs who are singing into their mic stand. then, he let himself view beyond his kit. his sight is looking at the fans who are watching them in awe, some are singing along, some are nodding their heads as he glimpses from one corner and trails down the barricade area. when he arrived at the other corner, he also saw a crew who had their hands wrapped with pristine white bandages that stand out from the darkness, a few bandages on the fingers and a bandage on the fold between the forefinger and middle finger on each side—similar to what he has on his hands.

jaeyun continues to look that certain way as he watches he reflecting camera lens moving downwards even for a bit, looking at the owner who doesn't focus on the viewfinder but instead on him: you. you with a smile on your face that makes him tug his own lips to mimic it as he heard jongseong yelling "hello, haeyang," whose audience cheers for the greeting before he goes to the guitar solo as the boy stabilises his rhythm to support the guitarist.

the concert continues on and jaeyun couldn't keep his eyes off of you for most of it. you're moving from one side of the room to the other as he lets muscle memory kick in after the tens of performances he had done for the tour. jaeyun had to look at the others too when they turned towards him as the band played their instrumental parts, hearing screams of his bandmates' stage name and his own "jake!" bursting into the space as they seemed, more or less, feels like jamming for themselves instead of perfoming for an audience. but that is what is desired for the crowd who continues to urge the band, as he could feel the familiar growing chemistry that combines in their performances. yet, the others didn't notice when they turned back as he continued to glance at your way.

he continues to glance at you as you record them playing on the stage, running around with your camcorder as you zoom in on the way euijoo is picking his guitar strings before turning towards its fretboard to capture his hands moving in chords as the sound continues. jaeyun can't help but peek at your face now with a new context—how you looked at euijoo with a sense of pride in them, like you are seeing your own bandmate performing on the stage and playing the guitar. when you moved to record him on stage, he turns his head in a suave way as he focuses on the drums, earning giggles from you, and he smirks as a reaction because he knows that it is only for him to notice.

jaeyun continues to play for the next hour or so, taking a bit of rest that includes the drink break as the members are all speaking into the mic and interacting with the audience for a few bits. sweat trailing down from his head to his torso to even on his exposed kneecaps of his ripped jeans as he continues. returning back into the flow state that makes his body move on autopilot as the adrenaline kicks in and produces once again. his tongue is licking his bottom lip ring unconsciously as he can feel the beat entering him, and yet, he is still holding onto the consciousness that is the unanswered confession of his to you. an anchor that makes him more aware, which in return makes him able to gauge the force he had to use to drum away—controlling his stamina as best as possible until the end of the show.

his hands move to the crashes as the last song nears the end. nicholas, euijoo, and jongseong all sang into their microphones as he mouthed the lyrics near his mic stand, head lulling following the rhythm for the last time, to then let the music stop and the spotlight shining on jongseong, who continued playing his melody as the music faded away. yet, jaeyun's eyes landed on yours when he could feel the fulfilment in him that is making him want to let out every emotion he is feeling through his tears. and he did so.

the boy smiles when he feels his eyes are burning, turning back towards the stage as euijoo says his final, final goodbye to represent the band.

"this is amperhyphen signing off from the tour! thank you so fucking much."

he heard the cheers and claps that is making his ears numb, causing him to pull out the in-ear monitor as he takes in the reaction that hits him hard. a sole tear fell down from the corner of his eye as the spotlight shines once again on the stage, seeing nicho opening his arm that is making him step out from his stool and jogs to the front of the stage. jaeyun never lets go of the drumsticks when he and his friends all gather in a group hug. finally. finally letting go of the big pressure of the touring in this last performance that has gone through without any clear hiccups. he can't help but lean his head against jongseong's shoulder, hearing euijoo whispering just between the four about how proud he is.

as he steps onto the wings when the audience all go out from the venue, his breath is knocked out of him when he feels arms wrapped around his sweaty body. arms tangles and pressed against his back as he felt the familiar warmth—making him wrap his arm around the figure as they pulled away, finding your face that was hidden in the crook of his neck when you hugged him. then, he felt one of your bandaged hands cup his cheek and make him lean into you, crashing your lips on his as his splayed hand rested to hold onto your back.

at first, he was in a daze before he could reciprocate, feeling your warm breath on his face as you let him push his tongue into your mouth, earning a muffled moan from you that made you both pull away. both of you are taking deep breaths as you lean in closer to his face.

"i like you too," you spoke to him, to answer what he asked yesterday.

"r-really?" he felt how his heart beat kick-started into a fast pace so suddenly.

"yeah, sim jaeyun. i like you too," head producing nods as you say it. then he wrapped his arms around you as you squealed, hugging you so tight as he peppered kisses all over your face. you pushed him away, making him look back at you with an overwhelmed face.

"are you alright?" jaeyun questioned so suddenly as you wiped a little drop of tears from the corner of his eyes. you lean your nose as it brushes against his.

"never been better."

the others come in as they all gather around you, feeling all the stickiness of their sweat as you roll your head to look around when you feel them hugging around your figure—even with sophia's little squeeks as she is brought into the hug as well. a group that you called family for the last three months. then, you pushed your head to rest against the exposed skin of jaeyun's shoulder.

"we're going to celebrate tomorrow, yes?" jongseong asked the group after they created their distance to look clearly at each other. all eyes are on sunghoon who looks at them with a small smile.

"yeah, one more day for us to relax here. then, the next day, we can go home."

"alright!" nicholas exclaimed as he already had sophia in his arms as all of you turned towards the backstage area. you quickly pack up your items, checking for the last time all the belongings in your bag to find them all there before you turn around to find jaeyun leaning against the wall with his arm crossed in front of his chest. his muscles are flexing as he found your eyes and lifted one of his eyebrows. walking towards him, he pushes his arm towards you as you grasp his hand, feeling his bandaged fingers meeting yours as you take a low, sharp breath when you feel the pressure that remains there.

stepping out of the back door, you and jaeyun expresses your gratitude to the stage crew who has worked hard on the concert tonight, hands not letting go as you small talk with a few of the stagehands that helped you with the recording, telling them to send the clips they have to the cloud folder you had mentioned yesterday so you can make the edit to put on the band's social media. you return to face jaeyun, who only has a warm smile as he was staring at you before turning his head towards the car that is starting its engine. you wave the crew goodbye as you both quickly go to the vehicle, the passengers are waiting for you two outside as the ones with the designated seats at the very back.

the car drives down the road that is full of trees on either side, making you lean your head against the glass window as you can see your own breath fogging it, your sight focusing on the moon's shine behind the branches and leaves of trees. then, you felt something on your shoulder as you peeked to find jaeyun's nose and mouth in your peripheral vision, letting him gaze at what you were seeing. the trees starts to thin out and more buildings start to show as you eye the downtown area of haeyang. finding that most of the businesses are all closed except for the nighttime ones, like bars and fast food restaurants. the view also includes the beach as the vehicle approaches the motel, seeing how the streetlight by the path before the sands highlights the shore area before it is being covered by the buildings and the now familiar parking lot.

"you have a key copy on you, right?" sophia turns to you as you finish stepping on the flight of stairs, still connected by hand with jaeyun as you turn to find nicholas' arm is wrapped around her shoulders, and the view of the other boys retreating towards their rooms.

"yeah!"

"nice!" she replied with the same enthusiam as you before a smirk came out on with an expression, "though i don't think that we will be needing them anyways." nicho giggles at her saying when she turns towards him, making you raise your eyebrows before turning to the boy beside you to see him wiggling his own, which you reply with eye roll.

"well, have fun, you two. just like we will have fun." nicholas gave a wink to both of you as he guided sophia, who gave you both a small wave, to his motel room—leaving you behind in the corridor with jaeyun.

"let's go?" he voices out, returning his eyes from his friends' figures to you as you meet them with yours.

"let's."

the walk towards his room feels different from the last time two nights ago. when the previous one has more energy to it—both of you are necessarily tipsy and full of lust; this time is much more comfort-based, where you both are just happy being in each other's company. you had a restless night the last two nights and you don't want to make it worse with your overreliance on antidepressant pills. that the night before the concert, when you told jaeyun everything, you had watched sophia's breath whilst sleeping as you thought about your feelings for him, not being able to sleep yourself. how you used him for yourself at first—joining the crew just so that you could relive those concerts again whilst memorising it digitally—but also for your closure and how it affects him and you.

leaning back on the cold pillow last night whilst you stare at the ceiling, you realised that you do like jaeyun. his sizzling touches turning soft as he guides you to the car, or when you're hanging out with the others with him. the conversations still felt normal, like what friends should have, but his warmth felt different whenever he sits beside you or tells you to sit beside him. having the same position in a band—the same job if you squint at it—makes you more open with him, even if you didn't tell your other side to him at first. but the chemistry is already there. you have a lot of things in common that you can now voice out after acting so nonchalantly about the band that creates music you actually listened to. trying to create this image of yourself that just doesn't feel authentic when you are more similar to the boys than the image of a typical social media person—where sophia's attentiveness to the cracks makes you open it fully, especially in this very town.

you tugged your sneakers off after loosening the laces. jaeyun is already a few steps away as you view his room. his suitcase is closed so tidily with his other belongings on the desk. placing his stuff by his bedside table, including the drumsticks he used today that he hasn't let go, he turns towards you and helps you pick up and place your bag.

"you wanna join me?" jaeyun asks, his head turning to the open bathroom door beside you already with its lights on. facing him once again, you looked back at his eye-shadowed and eye-lined eyelids as you just knew what you were doing next and nodded. you walked towards him as you pulled out a pouch from your bag and the makeup cleanser and cotton pads before walking into the bathroom. there, you find items strewn across the sink counter. but the one that caught your eye is the box with the photo of the bandages that are wrapped around his fingers.

scooting a bit more, jaeyun stands beside you as you catch his reflection on the mirror across from you both. his fringe was all floppy from the sweat accumulated from performing. his eye makeup was melting to the side of his cheeks as he caught your eyeline. giving a thin smile, you put the items on the counter between both of you. and as you grab onto your cotton pad, jaeyun follows as he spreads the cleanser flat on the pad he is holding before letting the coolness touch his skin. he watches you as his hand mimics yours that is moving around your face, wiping away the eye area as he can see the dark colour smudge there.

you also wipe your lips and cheeks, letting your cream blush and most of the colour of your lipstick all gone as you chuckle when you turn your head to him, making you point at the upper lid of your own eye as jaeyun wipes there. serenity washes both of you as you wait for him to finish, looking at your covered hands as you slowly curl your fingers, feeling the strain of the muscles there—but also the leftover pain of the wounds.

a hand reaches for yours as it wraps around your wrist and pulls you towards the closed-lid toilet. jaeyun brought you to sit on his lap, your breath knocked out as you pulled back to look at him below you. but his attention is on your bandaged hands.

"let me help," he mumbles before peering up at you, making you nod as he brings one of your hands before him. with his left hand holding it still, you watched him slowly pulling away the bandage on the space between the two fingers, the slight pressure dissipating from your hand. the cool air graces your scar as he flips the hand with the palm now facing upwards. his hand then continued to remove the other bandages sticking onto your skin, now letting you see the scabbed scar as he could see the little blisters around from the broken skin surface that is healing up.

"we need to get another layer of antiseptic after showering on these two wounds." jaeyun uttered as you watched him, not expecting for him to actually kiss the skin around scar as he hold it so carefully. that action makes you cup onto his jaw and pivot his head for you to easily kiss his lips. jaeyun instantly reciprocates, moving his pair in tandem with your other bandaged hand resting on his face until you move away and your forehead rubs against his.

gently, you helped him open his bandages as he continued with yours. he reacts with a hiss when he sees the blisters on your fingers that the first layer of skin couldn't keep safe, waiting for the cells to regenerate. while you admired his fingers and felt the hardened calluses on them and how they're more spread than the ones on your hands. both of them have proof of drumming as you both adjust on how to grip the sticks in your own ways, creating friction against the skin that rubs too much and creates chaffing you both have to endure. and as the last of the bandages is placed on the counter, both of your hands then peel off each other's clothes.

skin-to-skin contact makes shivers run down your spine as you breathe out so shakily. your body already recognises his touch as you feel his muscles on his chest and toned arms. the black and red tattoos gracing his skin as you felt his lip ring adding coolness to his warm kiss on your neck—feeling your nipples hardening against his skin as jaeyun stands in front of you. helping you to stand up, you both then tugged down your bottoms as you stood bare before him as he to you. usually, when you both are fully naked, one of you will jump on the other and initiate that habit you had created with him. however, as you stand before him now, those acts were being pushed back as you eyed each other before he leads you to the shower area behind the glass.

the shower head pours out water as you stand at the back, letting him test the water out before asking "is this alright for you?" as you place your hand against the falling droplets.

"yes, it is," you answered as jaeyun steps first and you could feel how your breath hitches. as you stand across from him, you watch as he lets the downpour hit him with his eyes closed and head tilting back, letting the water glisten down his body. from his nose, down to his adam's apple. from the chest and it trails down following his abdominal lines before going to his v line as they drop from his big hanging cock. you lightly bit the inside of your cheek before returning to his face, finding him already watching you as he moved to the side to let you stand under the pouring water.

you let it flow down your skin, feeling the grime washing away down the drain as you stood in front of him. the water wetting your hair as the strands get heavy, brushing against your skin as it flows down until your nether region and dripping down the side of your thighs. your hand brushes against the skin, making you wince even a bit as the water grazes the blisters across your hands. jaeyun moves to the side as he squeezes the soap that the motel gives in the bathroom before turning towards you.

"i can't imagine how much you're struggling in soaping yourself," jaeyun mentioned as you chuckle, letting bubbles show up between his palms after rubbing them.

"i'll help," he mumbled and you nodded, making your turn around from him as he lathers the soap across your back. you let out a huge sigh, feeling the pressure of his movement massaging your muscles, especiallly your shoulders. as it continues to go to your waist, you then turn around to let him pour some soap on your palm before, as careful as ever, spread them against your palms without hurting yourself as you help him too. his hand brushes against your belly button piercing as you spread against his upper chest.

as you both continue to spread soap on each other's bodies, the air feels different. gone was the lustful atmosphere around you when you two are doing something so domestic, so calm and careful, as you also reciprocate his impromptu massages with you doing it to his back muscles as well.

you both stood by each other, his hand that was spreading soap to pull the dirt off of you now rested against your waist. your head is tilting forward as you brush the shampoo away from your hair. jaeyun is also doing so until there is no slippery surface you can feel. his warmth combined with the relaxing warm shower, but then he starts to do more.

tilting your head to face the tiled walls, you sense his hand moving down to your hip before moving closer to the middle. you stepped back and felt him behind you. his skin touching yours as you felt a gush of your arousal that was threaten to show as you kiss him backstage finally showing up—and you also feel his cock becoming harder, felt it sliding between your buttcheeks.

"you're gorgeous," he whispers into your ear, making you lean your head back to graze against him as his hand moves now to your middle. his fingertips brushing against your lower lip before finding your clit.

"hah!" you gasp as he rubs his fingers against your sensitive bud, which you like. and with his haggard breaths against your skin and the pelting water flowing down between you two, you reached out behind your figure until you felt his cock and wrapped your hand around it.

in all that time of jaeyun brushing his thick lips against your skin, you could feel yourself getting warmer against even the warm water. shivers continue to spread across your body when you feel his other hand moving closer to your core. the moisture you are excreting is evident in his touch as his breath gently caresses the leaf of your ear. eyes now closed, the eyelids only letting a small amount of light seep inside your vision as jaeyun continues to trail kisses from below your neck and to your shoulder. your hand continues stroking him, feeling how his blood runs in his veins and makes his member harder.

opening your eyes even with droplets sticking onto your eyelashes, you turn your head to the side and bring your free hand to cup his cheek, guiding his lips to yours as they crash against each other—both of your breaths are taken away. your lips pursed as you felt two of his fingers plunge inside you, combining with the one caressing your clitoris as you adjusted your stroke to his pace as you also mind about your wound. water runs down between your faces as your hooded eyes meet his, breathing against each other's lips where every brush of movement makes them meet.

you could feel him pushing you towards your edge as jaeyun groans, his jaw unhinged as you also have your mouth agape. shaking your head, you know you can't take much longer after all the sud have been down the drain.

letting his cock go, you turned yourself around in his embrace as your force push him towards the tiled wall. hands on his nape as his naturally moved to your hips when jaeyun lets you kiss him hard. his head knocked against the wall softly as he sense how you are rubbing yourself on him. a leg slowly lifts up against his and that makes him cup both of your cheeks, pulling you back to face him. jaeyun nudges forward, letting his nose brush against yours as he says, "let me love you on the bed."

nods came from him as you follow, blinking slowly at the boy as one of your hands grabs his and he turns off the shower. the soft towels dried most of the liquid from your skin as he brought you to him and helped dry yourself as best as he could. your hair is still full of water as you brush your lips against his—earning giggles as you try to squeeze as much out as possible.

as the bathroom door opens and jaeyun throws the towels somewhere near it, you throw yourself on his bed before scooting up to feel the soft pillows under you. his wet blond hair sticks onto his forehead as he crawls above you, pressing and trailing his lips from your ankle towards your leg and arriving at your core—giving a long lick that makes him hum and you gasp because of his lip ring. and it trails upwards. licking your belly button and its piercing, to your sternum and giving sucks to both of your nipples, to your neck and sucking eac side to give you little lovebites, to your jaw, your cheek, the button of your nose, and then your lips as you open your mouth to let his tongue in; hands bracing him as it settle between you.

his hard and red cock presses up against your lower lips as your hand moves to grab it, making him move back a little as he watches you guiding his tip to your slit. finding the hole where it catches, you use your other hand's fingers and spread it open, creating a perfect target for him to push in as you both fleet your eyes back to each other. the sensation is all so familiar, but something you both aren't tired of—especially now when many more emotions are flowing between the two of you. stakes much higher than ever before as this is the first time you lay beneath him bare—both physically and psychologically.

small moans came out of you as you held eye contact with him, sensing the delicious push as your walls formed around him once again, gripping onto him as something so familiar. jaeyun's look on you has something different other than lust, evident with him brushing the baby hairs sticking onto your forehead as he brought his lips closer to yours. your eyebrows folded as he pushed himself until he reached the hilt, caressing his tip against your cervix as you bite your bottom lip before raising your head slightly to give him a small kiss. your hand curling against his wet locks of hair as you nodded at him, folding your legs near his hips as he rolls into you.

jaeyun watches how your face contorts, the silent moans combine with the loud ones from before, creating a perfect balance for you. a stable balance to receive his passion as he felt your fingernails moving against the skin on his back. eyes continue watching his—never letting go.

"you're mine…" you mumbled out as one of his hands rested on the pillow beside you move to brush against your lips. his thumb is dragging your bottom lip as jaeyun continues to thrust into you slowly, feeling your arousal coating him to create smoother movements.

"i'm yours and you're mine," jaeyun echoes, forehead leaning against yours as you gaze into his beautiful irises.

"always has been yours," you trail your hand across his back and cup his cheek, making him lean into the touch with his now enlarged eyes—asking an unsaid question about what you said.

a small chuckle comes from you as you reply, "you're the very first that claims me." and the corner of his lips lifted as he reads into every word you said. and as you move down your hand to his back, pushing him deep as you both let out gasps, you make it clearer to him. because you have nothing to lose anymore when he knows everything—he wants to know everything about you and you want to know about him too.

"the very, very first and forever."

jaeyun let out such a delicious moan as he pressed his lips on yours, making you brace yourself against him as you sense how his thrusts become faster. your heels digging into his skin as you give your control to him. moans bounce against each other as you can't help but grip onto him so tightly. his wet hair forms in clumps as it dries when you touch them. your eyes flipping back into your skull as you nodded to him, eyes speaking to him with whatever you want to convey.

"yeah?" you nodded to his reply.

"please…" his mouth caught onto your whispers.

"voice it out for me," jaeyun follows with a groan, baring his teeth that are gritting against each other. "let me hear what you say to me out loud."

"please… fill me up with you. i'm all yours- fuck- yun!" your head continues to move as he slams his forehead against you, rooting his body on you there as his hips moves against yours—your own also moving in rhythm to chase that high. the moist sound fills the room as the skin-to-skin contact is proof of the passion you have for each other. your thumb traces his bottom lip that he is biting before letting it and the coolness of his piercing meets your swollen pair. eyebrows furrowed as you felt your muscles spasming as he didn't let go, making your warnings swallow by him as you felt yourself shaking against him.

jaeyun moans into your mouth as he continues moving, your walls clamping down as his sound vibrates against you when your hands cup his cheeks to hold him tight. a warm liquid spurting inside your walls as he holds you close and tighter than ever before. pulling away, your saliva is sticking to each other as the lamp beside you shines on the glistening skin around his thick lips. giggles bubbling out of you as he follows, pecking your kiss before flipping his position—making you straddle onto him with your hand bracing against his tattooed arm.

you teasingly wiggle above him, feeling his cum and yours trickling down and pool against the base of his groin. leaning down, your chin rested against his chest as he fixed his pillow's position. his hand moves to your back, caressing from your pubic bone and up your spine as you smile at him—knowing that you both aren't going to have much sleep with the leftover lust in his eyes full of love. turning your head towards the bedside lamp, you caught onto the wooden texture of his drumsticks when you actually had to do a double-take. mouth slightly open at seeing the realisation of the crimson spots on the grip side.

the pair of drumsticks was littered with blood stains. the drumstick you played with yesterday—the drumsticks he was playing with tonight.

your hand reaches for one of the sticks as jaeyun watches, feeling the wooden material grazing your skin as you fixed your grip—the stains are mostly covered up with the way you are holding it as you eye your numb wound that is very much alright with the contact. eyeing back to the boy, he only tilts his head at you: confirming every thing you are thinking about as he gets his reward by a small kiss under his eye.

pushing yourself to sit upright, you fix your position as if you are sitting on the stool behind the drum kit—feeling how his cock is still snuggled inside you and how messy this will be. but you were too tired and tangled to even be thinking of going away from him, and then, jaeyun watches you as you twirl your drumstick in your hand. the wooden stick glides across your fingers as the momentum of the swing feels so familiar for both you and him. you lightly bit your bottom lip to see how you are doing the twirls you do when you are so in the zone when playing.

"since when did you play drums?" jaeyun asks a crystal clear question between the two of you that he didn't ask yesterday. but you already had an answer in mind about it.

"since i was seven years old," his eyebrows widen and jaw agape with your answer.

"seven?! i thought i was early when i started playing at nine." his reply earns chuckles from you before you purse your lips, eyes looking away from him for a bit as you gather your childhood memories with drums from your mind's filing cabinet.

"in a way, it's earlier than that." your hands rested on his chest, the stick between his skin and your palm as you leaned a bit closer to him.

"i joined a marching band corps when i was in kindergarten. i wanted to do the xylophone, but the slots are all filled. so they move me to the colour guard position. you know, those who twirl the coloured flags," both of your hands move to hold the drumstick in them, twirling it around like you are holding the flag pole. "after training with it for two weeks, the instructor suddenly tells the team that they are one short in snare drum. so i volunteered and played a snare drum in the marching band. we actually won a few regional championships—whenever there's a kindergarten level for them, of course."

jaeyun watches as your hand holding the stick moves once again into a grip he recognises as the traditional grip. the palm facing upwards instead of down as you play with it, feeling the tip of the stick brush his skin as you mimic how you drum back then.

"i took a liking in playing it. then i had to graduate kindergarten and my parents notice me liking it so much. so on my seventh birthday, they give me this mini drum kit for that is child-size in our living room and i swear, they regret the day after because the only thing i wanna do after school is banging some toms and crashes." laughter flies between the two of you as you then continue, "then dad starts to introduce me to the music he listens to. typical dad rock music like rolling stones, ac/dc, and toto. but i got addicted. and yeah, that's how i became a full-fledged drummer."

"you have more flight hours than me in drumming," he startes as you felt him holding onto your waist, "that you are so confident in playing prog rock that when i saw that fucking rush's tom sawyer notation, i swear i was baffled." jaeyun's hands pulls you into his embrace once again, making your chest rest against each other as you felt how his touch turns to tickles.

"i have to hear you play it. better yet, can you teach me?" you lightly tapped against his chest, licking your lips while holding in from showing a wide smile—which you fail to do.

"hey! you're also familiar with odd time signatures, baby," the nickname came out unexpectedly. but then you felt him wrap his arms behind you, to bring you closer. now chin to chin, you still held your head up to look into his eyes, feeling him shaking his head side to side.

"tom sawyer and fucking rosanna are a different beast than what i play, baby," he echoes the nickname to you as you roll your eyes playfully. a pout forming on your face as you look back at him. then all of the muscles on your face relax as you take a huge breath with a long exhale.

leaning down, you rested your head against the crook of his neck. the free hand moved behind him as the other grips onto the drumstick that now rested on the pillow beside his head. jaeyun heard the little sobs coming from you, making him move his hand to your shoulder blades. you tugged him closer, bridging the gaps between the two of you as you let the night bring you anywhere you both want. any conversation opened for both of you, and you both know that you won't let this moment down, even if sleep reminds you multiple times.

-

"you two are lucky i have made several sketches for drums." those are the first words uttered as jaeyun spoke to soobin, the tattoo artist you both got assigned to for your walk-in session.

your hisses continue as you watch the blond-haired tattoo artist finish the stencil pressed on your right inner forearm. the ink colour blooming against your skin as your left hand grips onto jaeyun's right hand that already has his matching tattoos inked in the same position. the tattoo of the drum kit with smooth lines as jaeyun has his kick drum area to be tattooed with the ampersand symbol that strikes through with a hyphen symbol that he had drawn: ampherhyphen's logo. while your kick bass drum has a cursive writing of dawndreamer on it, exactly as the one you have of the kick drum back in your childhood home.

eyes gazing back at jaeyun, his eyes met yours as soobin prepares to wrap your arm with plastic as aftercare. the older boy glances towards jaeyun as he nods, "all done. you know your tattoo aftercare." he tilts his hand towards the full-sleeve tattoo that he asks jaeyun about and how great it looks. "show your girl what to do with it too."

"got it, mate," he replied as you both stood up from the seat. your eyes look at the fresh tattoo etched on your skin that is so vivid as you glance back at the tattoo artist, giving a curt nod as a thank you, as he also nods his head.

with your tattooed right arm connecting its fingers with his tattooed left arm, you both walked down downtown haeyang for the last time. both of you are on standby for sunghoon's chat when you are ready to go and celebrate the ending of the tour. but you also need your closure, and when you found the familiar street, you let out a sigh as you took every step forward with confidence.

standing at the corner of the four-way intersection, your eyes are burning with tears as jaeyun notices—his fingers wrapping tighter around you to let you remember that you are not alone. that he sees you. that he understands you.

"hi gaeul, ningning, tsuki…" you started, eyes focused on the very middle of the intersection where all of the streets come together. a tear slipped out from the corner of your eyes as you remembered your crashed car, but in front of it, you see three apparitions appear before you. all are wearing the clothes you remember, all wearing their guitars and bass across their chest like you always see them when you all jam out.

"i hope you're proud of me…" you nodded your head as you spoke, holding still on the confirmation as you felt the heavy weight you were carrying on your shoulders tumbling down. turning your head to face jaeyun, he had already watched you with a reassuring smile. you reciprocate as you press your forehead on his.

"i, i don't know what to do after this," you said to him, truly. after the conversation you had last night, opening up about everything to the last thing about the impromptu matching drum kit tattoos with your respective bands, the aftermath of this tour lingers in your head because of sudden separation after being with him—being with them—for so long.

"you still have college to do, right?" jaeyun speaks slowly before as he feels you move your head in nods. "i also have mine to finish," he lightly bites his lip before continuing, "but i will get back to you all the time. i will drive to pick you up and bring you with me. therapy, gigs, concerts to watch, i will be with you in the entire journey."

a small gasp comes from you as you brought your arms behind his figure and presses him against you in a tight and warm hug, letting his shoulder become a place to cry on as you let out such many sobs—pushing all those feelings out as your eyes gaze back at the intersection, seeing the ghosts of your best friends all smiling at you. your lips brush against his ear.

"thank you, jaeyun, for making me realise i am not fully alone"

you lean back as the boy looks at you with such an endearing smile, his thumb brushing the fallen tear trailing down the apple of your cheek as he nodded and mouthed back a "thank you to you too." he brought his hand to connect back with yours when your ringtone rings at the same time, the sound coming from the group chat as jaeyun lifted his phone and show you the notification of sunghoon telling you all to gather around so you all can go to where you will be celebrating.

nodding in agreement, you let him take the lead to bring you back to your friends. yet, you still turn your head back to look at the intersection, finding the hazy apparition of your friends smiling back at you before they fade away as they move on—and you have to do so too. pivoting back to see jaeyun looking back at you, you let out such a wide smile as you take steps to stand beside him so you could walk together. leaving haeyang and this chapter of your life as you walk on to a healing path with jaeyun beside you—celebrating his band, all of the work, and your relationship that is getting richer and richer than the sound of drums playing in a crescendo.

taglist: @raeyunshm @leilasmom @evidive @boba-beom @kwiwin @heesw1fe @aloverga @fancypeacepersona @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @blurryriki @amazzwon @sunpov @ineedsomezzz @reallysmolrenjun @stealanity @zyvlxqht @deobitifull @gandaengene @kristynaaah @m1kkso @amaraeofsunshine @nyxtwixx @shinrjj @jiyeons-closet

© writingmochi on tumblr, 2021-2025. all rights reserved

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Sleeps Ten, My Ass (2/2)

Summary: It's become tradition for Emma Swan to spend the holidays with her brother, their cousins, and their families. This Christmas was no different. The group booked a four night stay at a cozy mountain cabin to celebrate. The listing said it sleeps ten, but upon arrival they discover a small issue. The listing was wrong and now Emma and Killian Jones, the only two single people within their group, have to spend the next four nights sharing a bed. Fortunately... they've shared a bed before.

A/N: @eastwesthomeisbest I'm sorry this Part Two took a little longer to get to you than I'd planned, but I hope you'll find it worth the wait! Again, it was lovely being your CS Secret Santa!! I hope you have a wonderful 2025!!

For the rest of my readers, I started over with my Curious Crew Tag List (which I typically do at the first of the year). Although I'm pretty sure I've added everyone who told me to date that they wished to be added, if I missed you (SORRY) or you wish to be added, please let me know!!

Thanks to @kmomof4 for looking this over for me and to the @cssecretsanta2020 for once again hosting a fantastic event. Side note, this fic also completes my Only One Bed: Holiday Edition square for the CS Winter Bingo!

Rated E / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One

Part Two

“Merry Christmas!”

Emma clinked her mimosa against the glasses of her family and friends then settled onto the sofa next to her brother. Taking a sip of the bubbly beverage, she perused the room and let the early morning alcohol warm her from the inside as the fireplace beside her took care of the outside.

Much as Killian had done for her last night.

Shaking off that thought - and the remnants of the dreams she’d had where he’d kept her warm in other ways - Emma tucked her legs beneath her and gave Liam her attention as he passed out the gifts.

The couples tended to exchange gifts with one another in private before they met as a group, and Emma imagined this year was no different. The gifts Liam was handing out were the ones each of them had brought for a specific member of their group. Every Thanksgiving they drew names at random so each person only had to buy something for one other person. Then, Christmas morning, they would all open their gifts and reveal who had bought for whom.

Emma was grateful that she did not have to buy something for everyone, but she did not enjoy the fact that they opened the gifts one at a time while the rest of the group watched, making the person unwrapping the center of attention.

Well, the person unwrapping and the person who had gifted it.

“David, I love it!” Elsa praised with a laugh, holding up the lightweight sweatshirt for everyone to see.

Printed across the front in bold lettering, it read: No. I don’t need a coat. The cold doesn’t bother me.

“That’s perfect,” Liam chortled, already tearing his gift open.

And around the room they went. After Elsa was Liam, then Kristoff, then Anna, who Emma had drawn and gifted a pair of boots she’d known her cousin had been wanting. When Anna was finally done gushing over them, Emma began to open her gift.

“So… who will I be thanking for this…” She’d gotten the rest of the paper off and the lid to the box open when her words fell away as she looked over the myriad of items within.

“It’s a, uh...” Killian cleared his throat and pawed at the patch of skin behind his ear as he went on to explain. “It’s a sort of… winter stake-out care package, I guess is what you’d call it.”

Emma began lifting the items out of the box as Killian described them and the thought process behind his selecting each one.

“I’d noticed earlier this month when we all got together for that holiday festival that you needed a new beanie,” he said as she slipped the hunter green beanie onto her head and then pulled out a pair of soft gloves. “Now, I know you don’t tend to wear gloves on a stake-out because they get in the way of you taking photos or making notes on your phone, but with these you can slip the individual fingertips off so your hands can stay warm while you still have use of your finger pads.”

Emma tested them out whilst he explained their function, loving the ease with which she could quickly bare her thumbs and fingertips. They would certainly come in handy, as would the next item.

“A portable electric kettle,” Killian informed the group when more than one of them had murmured an inquiry about the item in question. “You just add water and plug it into the cigarette lighter in your vehicle and it’ll boil in less than 90 seconds. It also serves as a thermos once you’ve heated the water.” Killian lifted his chin in a pointed gesture and added, “There’s some hot cocoa packets and instant coffee in there as well.”

“This is…” Emma began, somewhat at a loss of what to say.

“Do you like it?”

Emma’s eyes jumped to Killian’s which were filled with a hesitant anticipation; his brows furrowed as his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“I do,” she answered, smiling softly at him. “This was all so thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Swan,” he replied, a bright smile adorning his lips as he let out a heavy breath of relief.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mary Margaret elbow David in the ribs. No doubt it was an attempt to keep whatever snide comment he had at the ready about her occupation from falling out of his mouth. Emma knew her brother did not approve of her line of work. In truth, most of them didn’t. The only one who never gave her a hard time about it, who never questioned her abilities or capability, who only ever asked about it out of genuine curiosity and interest, and without an ulterior motive to somehow diminish her success or exaggerate the dangers, was Killian.

Emma tried to focus on the remaining gifts being opened by the rest of their group, but her mind kept circling back to her own. The way Killian had noticed the state of her beanie and how he inherently knew and understood the reason why she tended to not wear gloves, despite her having the opposite reaction to the cold from her cousin.

The cold did bother her. It always had.

The contrast of her and Elsa’s response to it had always been a source of amusement within their circle. As evidenced by David’s gift to Elsa and past comments made regarding the issue. It struck Emma, in that moment, that Killian had never taken her objection to the cold lightly. From the beginning, he had always made sure she was comfortable. Warm. Content.

Like last night. Like many times before. Like with his gift. Making sure she’d be warm and comfortable during the long, wintery nights whilst on a stake-out. The way he’d made sure she was warm that night. The night in the Caribbean when a cool ocean breeze had met her damp skin - sweat soaked from dancing in a crush of people - and she’d shivered, her slip of a dress, which left little to the imagination, unable to combat the chill as goosebumps erupted over her entire body.

She could still feel the soft fabric of Killian’s jacket around her shoulders, the warmth it transferred from his body to hers, his scent lingering on the collar and intoxicating her sinuses in the same way the rum had infused their blood. The memory of the heat of his hand, pressing against the small of her back as he walked her to her cabin made Emma shift in her seat, as did the whisper of his hot breath against her neck when she recalled the words he’d murmured into her ear.

“I’ll keep you warm, love. Just say the word and I’ll make you burn until morning. It would be both our pleasure, I swear it.”

He had been good to his word.

So, so good.

“Who's ready for breakfast?”

Mary Margaret’s inquiry, which signaled the end of the gift giving portion of the day, shook Emma from her thoughts. Her highly inappropriate thoughts. Thoughts that had caused her cheeks to grow hot and blush pink; a fact she hoped no one had noticed.

“You look a bit flushed, Swan,” Killian commented on their way to the dining room - much to Emma’s mortification. “I guess my gifts are doing their job.”

Unable to meet his eye, Emma swiped the new beanie off her head and peeled the gloves off her hands. “Yep. I’m nice and toasty now. Thanks.”

“Anytime, love,” he replied in a deep, quiet timbre. Was she imagining the mixture of promise and longing in his words? Was he merely being his usual cheeky self, or was he reminding her of all the ways they could produce heat together… and his willingness to explore them with her?

“Who needs a refill?” Elsa offered, holding up the bottle of champagne and the pitcher of orange juice.

“Me!” Emma responded, hurrying towards the island with her champagne flute and receiving the first of many, many refills she’d imbibe that day.

~/~

This was a bad idea. No, it was a great idea, but it was also, potentially, a very, very bad idea.

It had been Anna’s idea. Which wasn’t the reason it was a bad one. It was actually a really good one. After a long day of cooking and drinking and eating and games and drinking and cleaning and drinking, her cousin had suggested they end the evening with a soak in the hot tub.

Which was a terrific idea, except… wearing nothing but her bikini, in a hot tub, with Killian Jones, also in his swimsuit, with his hair curling from the steam and water droplets clinging to his chest hair and pooling in the hollow of his throat while she - and the rest of them - continued to polish off the bottles of champagne that never seemed to end was a very, very bad idea.

But when had a bad idea ever stopped her before?

Especially when said bad idea had actually crossed her mind days before when she’d packed her bag. More specifically, the tiny, red, string bikini she’d worn during their cruise vacation. But no, she absolutely did not choose to pack this particular bikini because she remembered the look on Killian’s face and the hunger in his eyes when he saw her in it the first time on the pool deck. The same hunger that was threatening to devour her from a darkened, forget-me-not gaze across the hot tub.

Okay, maybe she did pack this particular bikini on purpose with this particular scenario in mind.

The idea wasn’t the only thing that was bad. Emma was also being bad. Very, very bad. And she wanted to do bad things. Very, very bad things with the man she found herself alone in the hot tub with after all their family and friends had decided to turn in about an hour after they’d first all got in.

“D’you wanna stay inna bit longer or turn in,” Killian asked with a heavy tongue from all the alcohol he’d consumed over the course of the day.

The same amount that was currently coursing through her veins and causing her to want to act on her very, very bad ideas.

“Prolly should turn in,” she replied in an equally tipsy tone. “M’ry Marget wants to head out early for after Kissmas shopping.”

Another loathsome tradition, but one Emma complied with for her sister-in-law’s sake. She wasn’t much for bargain hunting, but she knew what the bonding time together meant to the woman who had married into a sisterhood (despite Elsa and Anna actually being Emma’s cousins) after being an only child all her life and an orphan for the greater part of it.

“Right then,” Killian said, standing from where he’d been lounging in the corner and offering her a hand up. “We should get you to bed, love.”

Taking his hand, Emma stood, then immediately lost her footing and fell into his wet, firm chest. His arms circled her waist, his inebriation making him a bit clumsy and the slickness of their skin causing one of his hands to inadvertently land a bit too low. Palming her ass cheek may have been an accident, but the way his grip tightened, his fingers digging into her skin as he prompted her hips forward was not.

Nor was the way she responded, bringing herself flush against him as their lips, teeth and tongues met with fervor. He groaned into her mouth when she raked her nails down his back, then reached up and wrapped his other hand around the back of her neck.

“I want you,” he breathed, the much needed air secondary to the words he seemed desperate to convey.

“I want you, too,” she told him before suddenly finding herself in his arms, being carried out of the hot tub and into the cabin. After setting her down by the dying embers of the fire, he grabbed a nearby towel and wrapped it around her.

“I’m gonna shut off the hot tub and close things up,” he informed her. “Wait for me in our room?”

Emma nodded, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she headed for the stairs. Glancing back over her shoulder, she giggled at the way he hurriedly - and drunkenly - took care of the tasks so he could follow after her. He didn’t keep her waiting long. No sooner had she finished drying off - still clad in her bikini, so not completely dry - and taking her hair down from the high bun she’d pulled it into so it would stay out of the water, than he came through the door like a man on a mission.

His mission, it seemed, was to pick up where they’d left off. In less than a second she was back in his arms, their hands indulging in the vast expanse of exposed skin while their mouths fought to devour the other.

“You’ve no idea what seeing you in this bikini does to me,” he growled against her lips, his fingers toying with the knotted strings tied at her back.

Reaching between them, Emma cupped his hardness through the thin, damp fabric of his trunks and hummed into his mouth before murmuring, “Actually, I think I do.”

“We’re drunk,” he stated, pulling back slightly while his hands gripped her hip and grazed her back.

“W’are,” she slurred, flicking her gaze up to his. “Your point?”

“We were drunk last time, too,” he reminded her, sloppily. “I’ve always regretted that.”

“Regretted it?”

“Not what we did,” he clarified, his fingers brushing up her side, over the back of her shoulder, then back down her arm. “I regret I wasn’t in complete control of my faculties when I took you. That the details of you, naked and quivering beneath me, are hazy in my memory because of the alcohol clouding them.”

Emma cupped his length harder, pulling a grunt from the depths of his chest and causing his eyes to slip shut as his lips parted in pleasure. “Will that regret keep you from taking me again?” she asked, kneading the underside of his balls with her fingertips. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she gripped his earlobe between her teeth, eliciting a sharp intake of breath that interrupted the moans vibrating up his throat. “Will that regret keep you from allowing me the pleasure of being taken?”

Killian jerked his head away, her teeth scraping against the lobe of his ear. A growl rumbled in his chest as he pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes dark and piercing despite the alcohol hooding his gaze.

“Absolutey the fuck not,” he declared in a tone that curled her toes and nearly made her knees give out.

With a series of sharp tugs, he undid the knots that had kept her bikini top secured, then tore the flimsy piece of fabric from her breasts so his mouth and hands could replace it. Clutching his head to her chest, Emma gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist when he managed to lift her, one handed, so he could carry her to the bed. He probably would have deposited her on the mattress with more finesse had he been sober, but Emma wasn’t complaining, not when he sank to his knees at the end of it and began divesting her of her bikini bottoms with his teeth.

She wasn’t sure whether she said them out loud, but the last coherent words to flow through her consciousness before his tongue began its assault on her sex were, we really ought to do this sober at some point.

~/~

“Got our to-go coffees!”

Emma groaned, her head resting against her arms which were crossed on top of the table they’d just finished having breakfast on. If you could call a slice of dry toast breakfast, that is.

She really shouldn’t have drank so much the day before.

She hated to think how much worse her hangover would be if, after their… relations, Killian hadn’t insisted they both take an aspirin and chase it with a large glass of water before crashing.

Yet another thing to be grateful to Killian Jones for.

And he had given her many, many things to be grateful for last night.

Of course, she’d given him her fair share as well.

Not that she should be thinking about any of that now, especially when thinking in general was causing her head to pound.

“Here,” Elsa said, prompting Emma to sit up and take the to-go cup being offered to her. “I slipped a little hair of the dog in it for you.”

Emma glanced down to where Elsa was brandishing the flask she had tucked away in her purse, a very Jones-esque smirk pulling at her lips.

“Your brother-in-law is a bad influence,” Emma chortled, then winced at the way the action made her stomach gurgle.

Elsa laughed and stood, prompting the rest of the table to follow. The four women made their way out of the diner and towards the shops that were just beginning to open for the after Christmas sales. Emma took a large gulp of her doctored coffee, willing it to sustain her these next few hours. She was gonna need all the help she could get.

“Emma,” Elsa said quietly, as they milled around the third - or was it the fourth - shop of the day.

When Emma glanced over at her, Elsa tilted her head towards the corner, indicating a more private place to chat, and Emma, curious, followed her cousin.

“What’s up?” Emma asked, noting the discomfort and hesitation Elsa was struggling with.

“It’s just…” Elsa began, tentatively. “I know you were joking before, when you said Killian was a bad influence, but…”

“But?”

Elsa’s cool blue eyes locked onto Emma’s. She knew that look. It was the same look David would give her when he was about to go all I’m-telling-you-this-for-your-own-good, trust-me-I-know-what-I’m-talking-about, slightly insufferable, older brother on her.

“He isn’t a bad guy.”

Stunned, Emma blanched and assured, “I know that.”

“I mean,” Elsa continued. “I know David thinks he has a reputation of being a ladies’ man, and has written him off as a ‘bad boy’, but Killian isn’t actually like that.”

“Okay,” Emma drawled, suddenly very uncomfortable with where this conversation might be going. “Why are you tell--”

“Because… He talks about you all the time,” Elsa told her. There was something in her tone that alerted Emma to the fact that her words might be considered a betrayal, but she’d decided to place her loyalties with her cousin rather than her brother-in-law. “He asks about you when it’s been awhile since we’ve all gotten together. I really… I really think he has a thing for you, and I wouldn’t want any misconceptions to get in the way of you possibly--”

“Elsa, stop.”

Emma couldn’t listen to anything more her cousin had to say. It was too much. Too much to hope that this… whatever it was between her and Killian, was more than some ‘dalliance’. More than an itch he felt the need to scratch or some challenge he wanted to conquer.

More than just another notch on his bedpost.

“Look,” she said, her tone not quite as snappy as it had been. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you don’t have to defend Killian to me. I know he’s a decent guy, and I…” Emma wasn’t sure what else to say without giving away her feelings, something she was barely ready to do with herself, and nowhere near ready to admit to anyone else.

“Right,” Elsa said, letting Emma off the hook. “Well, I’m glad we got that sorted. I just… Now that Liam and I are married, the Jones brothers are a permanent fixture in our lives and I--”

“I know,” Emma interjected, wishing to end the awkward conversation. “I get it.”

“Do you?” Elsa asked, stepping a bit closer. “Emma, Killian isn’t going anywhere. I know you keep your guard up because you’re afraid of being wrong about him, but… give him a chance? I really think he just might surprise you. In the best way.”

Elsa’s words lingered in Emma’s mind for the rest of the day, as did nearly every interaction she’d ever had with Killian over the past several years. If what Elsa had said was true, that Killian had genuine feelings for her, then why hadn’t he ever made a move?

Granted, in the early years of Elsa and Liam’s relationship, he only came around a couple of times, but he had been a solid member of their group for at least the past two. Yet, he’d never given her any indication of being serious about her. Sure, he flirted and made suggestive comments and did outrageous things with his eyebrows and tongue, but he did that with everyone, right? Even David and Kristoff.

He didn’t have their preferred drink at the ready when they inevitably showed up late, though. Nor did he buy them thoughtful gifts that affirmed and supported their chosen profession. He also did not gravitate towards the rest of them like he did her. And she to him.

He didn’t look at any of them the way he looked at her. In fact… She could not recall a single time they’d been together when she’d seen him look at another woman that way. Not even on the cruise when there had been no shortage of beautiful women in revealing, eye-catching outfits. Not even when those women had come onto him, slipping their room numbers, phone numbers, and who knows what else into his pocket.

Surely, given the fact that he was gorgeous and charming and sexy as hell - don’t get her started on the accent - and had women throwing themselves at him, he had no trouble keeping his date book full and his bed warm. It’s not like he’d been pining after her all this time.

Right?

~/~

The ladies got back to the cabin later than they’d planned. Initially, the group was going to make do with the leftovers for dinner, cleaning out the fridge and making sure nothing went to waste before checking out the next day. However, the shopping and bonding and girl-time had led to them informing the guys that they’d be dining out instead and to not wait up.

Emma - despite the internal turmoil and lingering questions her conversation with Elsa had left her with - had actually enjoyed the day with her cousins and sister-in-law. So much so that it might have been her idea to ditch leftovers with the gents and treat themselves to a lovely meal at the bistro they’d walked by several times during their shopping ventures through the town.

Was a small part of that suggestion due to the fact she wasn’t ready to face Killian?

Yup. Absolutely. 100%

There was no putting it off any longer, though. Despite their insistence that the men should not wait up for them, they had. Because, of course they had.

After a brief recap of the day and a run down of what would need to be done in the morning before they checked out of the cabin, the group dispersed, heading to their respective rooms and turning in for the night. Emma glanced at Killian, whom she’d been avoiding making eye contact with, and could see the same uncertain, hesitant, bracing-for-what-may-come-next demeanor she knew she’d walked into the cabin with.

Making her way into their room, she noted how he’d made the bed and picked up their discarded suits that had still littered the floor when she’d left early that morning. She swallowed heavily at the memory of her quickly quieting her alarm and getting ready - queasy and heavy-headed - as silently and stealthily as possible as not to wake him and force an interaction. What had it been like for him to wake up alone? Had he been plagued by thoughts and memories and questions all day like she had? Eager to see her and discover what it all meant whilst also willing to allow the hours to drag on and avoid having to face a reality that may not meet hopeful expectations?

The door softly snicked closed, the air growing heavy and charged as tense anticipation palpated throughout the room.

“Swan,” Killian began, his voice gentle but resolved as he hovered by the door, giving her as much space as he could within the privacy of their room. “I know talking about last night is probably the last thing you wish to do, but I really think, given that it’s happened twice now, that we really ought to dis--”

“You’re right,” she agreed, cutting him off. “I think we need to talk about it.”

Killian balked. That was clearly not the response he’d been prepared to receive from her. “You do?”

“Yeah,” she said, wetting her lips and shuffling her feet against the carpet, her gaze turned downward as she slipped her hands into her back pockets. “I’ve, uh… I've been thinking about it all day. I mean…” she paused, her eyes closing briefly at how that statement could be misconstrued, even if the presumption wouldn’t be completely off base. “I’ve been thinking about us all day.”

“Me, too,” he replied with understanding, no hint of teasing or suggestive provocation in his tone.

Emma lifted her gaze and met his eyes. He was looking at her as one would a cornered animal, cautious and careful of making any sudden movement that might frighten the creature away.

“Actually,” she continued, her heart thumping wildly in her chest as she gathered the courage to make her next confession. “I’ve been thinking about us since that night on the ship.”

“Aye,” he breathed out on little more than a whisper. “Me, too.”

With her hands still tucked away in her pockets, she dipped her gaze down to her feet once more and said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he replied without hesitation.

It took her a moment to get over her own.

“The other night,” she began, haltingly. “When you implied that you didn’t share your bed often enough to develop a preference on which side of the… I know it’s none of my business, but…”

“But?”

Flicking her gaze to his once more, she took a breath and asked, “How often is not often enough?”

Killian reached up and scratched behind his ear; a usually endearing tell of his, but one that had her stomach churning at that moment.

“I, uh… actually…” He cleared his throat and cast his gaze aside, though he did throw a furtive glance her way as he answered, “This past year I’ve only shared my bed with one person.”

“Oh,” Emma replied, her heart sinking a bit. “Can I ask who?”

Killian’s head snapped back towards her, a look of amused confusion on his face. His expression softened and he closed the space between them, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw as he said, “Don’t you know, Emma… It’s you.”

“What?” she exhaled, stupidly. “What do you mean… me?”

“I haven’t been with another woman since last Christmas when you kissed me beneath the mistletoe.”

Emma knew her mouth was hanging open. She knew she must have looked - in his words - absolutely gobsmacked. “B-But that was…” she stuttered, recalling the moment he was referring to. “That was just a silly, little peck on the lips because Elsa had hung it over the bar station and caught us standing there. It was hardly even a kiss.”

“Perhaps not to you,” he said with a tinge of hurt in his voice. “But it was to me.”

Dropping his hand he took a small step back and Emma instantly regretted making it seem as though the kiss hadn’t been a big deal. In truth, she’d had to convince herself for months afterward that it wasn’t.

“But it wasn’t just the kiss,” he continued. “It’s what the kiss exposed.”

Emma felt her breath hitch at the way he was looking at her now: vulnerable, unguarded, and - to use the word he’d just uttered - thoroughly exposed.

“Which was?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and a longing took over in his forget-me-not depths. “That you’re it for me, Swan. I…” Boldly, he approached her again, his words and expression leaving no room for doubt as to his sincerity. “There’s no one else. I don’t want anyone else. You’re the one I want.”

“Why… Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, the sound of her heart thundering in her ears, her chest rising and falling a bit too rapidly.

He cocked his head to one side, an uncomfortable expression taking hold of his features as he reminded her, “At the time, you were with that Walsh bloke, and despite my dislike of the fellow, it seemed bad form to make heartfelt declarations whilst you were in a relationship.” Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled heavily and added, “When it did, thankfully, end, although his timing was rubbish, leaving you high and dry on Valentine’s Day, you seemed a bit… put off by the idea of, well, all men.”

“Right,” she said, her cheeks flushing hot at the reminder. “My rant at the pub about how all men are bastards and how I was vowing to live a celibate life from then on.”

“Aye,” he chuckled. “Didn’t seem like the right time to suggest we start… anything.”

“So,” she said, understanding why he’d taken a step back. “You gave me some space.”

“I thought it best to give it time. Let you heal. Remind yourself that, though the wanker had broken your heart, at least that meant it still worked.”

“And then,” she said, prompting him to continue. “The cruise.”

“Aye, the cruise,” he parroted, swallowing hard. “Liam and Elsa’s wedding, both of us in the wedding party, spending all that time together, flirting, connecting. I thought… I thought, perhaps, it was finally my chance. Our chance. We had that amazing night together. Not just the sex, but everything else that had led up to it. And then…”

“And then, I metaphorically ran for the hills the next morning.”

Killian dropped his head, his shoulders tense as he drew in a deep breath. “I was afraid that I may have taken advantage of--”

“No, Killian,” she said, cupping his cheek and urging him to look at her. “We went over that the next day. You didn’t take advantage of me. At least, not anymore than I took of you. That wasn’t why I--”

“I know, love,” he murmured. “I know you weren’t ready. You were still getting over--”

“No, I wasn’t,” she told him. “I got over Walsh a long time ago, I just…”

“What?” he asked, his eyes flicking between hers. “You just what, Swan?”

A contrite expression pulled at her brows and she dropped her hand to his chest as she confessed, “I didn’t want to be just another notch on your bedpost. I didn’t want to be some conquest.”

“Oh, Emma,” he whispered, gathering her in his arms. “You are not some conquest. Not to me.”

He held her for several beats of their hearts, his face nuzzling the top of her head. “Ever since that night, I have waffled between the desire to respect your wishes, and the urge to fight for what I want.” Pulling back, he gazed down at her and professed, “I’m done waffling. I want you, Emma. I want to be with you. I want to pursue you, and woo you, and court you in all the ways you ought to be.” Bringing his hand up, he caressed the side of her face with the backs of his fingers and murmured, “But only if you want that as well. Whatever we become is as much up to you as it is to me.”

“That all sounds good to me,” she said, pulling a deep chuckle from his chest, and they both smiled at one another, basking in the joy of the moment.

A joy that transitioned as they stood there, lightly caressing the other, breathing the other in, and gazing into each other’s eyes. Eyes that were darkening and becoming more hooded and intense as the atmosphere began to electrify around them.

When their lips met, it wasn’t in the chaotic and frenzied way they had in the instances before. There was no less passion, no less heat, but the desperation in this kiss was for closeness, intimacy, and not because either of them thought this might be the only time they’d ever get a chance to experience the other in this way.

After a long, thorough, languid exploration of her mouth, Killian’s moved to her jaw, the space below her ear, then down her neck. Emma’s fingers carded through his hair as his tongue mapped the slope of her shoulder, his hand gently pulling at the collar of her shirt to expose a greater path.

“I agree,” he murmured into her skin, his lips applying soft kisses and gentle, sucking pressure to her pulse points as they traveled back up her neck.

“With what?” Emma panted, torn between wanting to bask in this unhurried moment of enjoyment and her eagerness to move things along so they could get to the really good stuff.

“With what you said last night,” he reminded her, pulling his face away from her neck so he could stare down at her with a smoldering gaze of desire. “We really ought to do it sober sometime, and I see no better time than now. Do you?”

“Uh, yeah. No. I mean…” Emma silently cursed herself for sounding like an idiot. Taking a deep breath, she reached down and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, then began lifting it as she replied, “I think so, too.”

Killian raised his arms, allowing her to peel the shirt from his body. His breath visibly hitched beneath her touch as she ran her fingers down the front of his chest; the muscles in his lower abdomen jumping when they reached the top of his jeans where his body hair began to taper into a happy trail. She could feel the heat of his gaze as she loosened his belt, heard the soft gasp that fell from his lips when she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and the groan he let out when she slipped her hand past his boxer briefs to wrap around his hardening, hot, velvety length sent a shiver of wonder down her spine.

“I think,” she whispered in a sultry tone, flicking up her gaze up from beneath her lashes to meet his; her words causing them to open after her actions had clearly made them fall shut in pleasure. “I’ll be the one doing the taking this time.”

A shudder ran through him and his gaze darkened. “As you wish,” he murmured, his timbre low and gravelly and making her want to do all sorts of naughty things to him.

Her hand still wrapped around his cock, she guided him to the edge of the bed and prompted him to sit on the edge as she sank down onto her knees.

“Lie back,” she instructed while working to free him from his jeans and underwear.

“As my lady commands,” he replied, collapsing back onto the mattress, though his head remained lifted so he could watch.

After divesting him of his remaining garments, Emma pulled her hair into a high ponytail. She delighted in the way his body jumped and quivered beneath her touch; her teasing caresses and taunting kisses applied to all the areas except where he’d want them most. Pained pants puffed from his chest and soft whimpers collected in the back of his throat. The cords of his neck strained whenever his head fell back, his eyes following the motion, his lips parted and sticking at the corners whenever his teeth weren’t burying themselves into their soft flesh. When she finally turned her attention to his neglected manhood, his hips jerked off the bed from the feel of her tongue running the length of his cock.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed, his hands balling up the comforter in a white-knuckeled grip.

“Shhhh,” she admonished. “Don’t make me gag you like you had to with me last night.”

The reminder forced a half-growl, half-groan from his chest, but it fully transformed into a moan of pleasurable relief when she took him fully into her mouth.

“Gods above, Swan,” he croaked after several minutes of her working him over, trying to keep his voice down. Trying… and failing. “Fuck!”

With a soft pop, Emma released him and stood.

“Apologies, love,” he whispered in a desperate tone. “Please. Don’t stop.”

“I have no intentions of stopping,” she assured him. “But you clearly need help staying quiet.”

If he had a retort to her statement, it must have been forgotten when she lifted her shirt over her head and then removed her bra. Killian’s tongue slowly dragged across his lips, his eyes intently focused on her as she shimmied out of her own jeans and panties. Her black lace panties that matched her bra; a set, like her swimsuit, she had intentionally packed with him in mind.

Black lace panties that she picked up off the floor and let hang off her index finger as she made her way up onto the bed, mounting him dramatically and straddling his hips.

“Are you gonna be a good boy and keep quiet, or…”

She swung her panties once around her finger. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his eyes trained on the black fabric until it came to a rest, crooked on her finger once more, before they met hers. Emma could see the gears turning in his mind, trying to decide which he’d prefer.

After a deliciously taut moment, he said, “I’ll be good. I promise.”

“Mmmm,” Emma hummed, leaning down so her lips could hover over his. “Good choice.”

She laid her panties on the pillow next to his head as they kissed - just in case. Killian groaned when his tongue ran alongside hers and Emma knew it was because he could taste the brine of his precum still lingering there. When she finally broke off the kiss so she could sit back and position herself over his length, he followed. They both broke the promise of being quiet when he slipped inside her, filling her, stretching her, molding her to him as though they were only ever meant to fit one another.

Rolling her hips, Emma began to move as Killian held her. Murmurs, grunts, staccatoed breaths, sweet nothings, curses, praises, all filled the space between them as their bodies rolled, their hips swiveled, their lips collided, their eyes connected, and their pleasure mounted.

Whenever Emma would arch her back, Killian latched onto her breasts, lavishing them with his tongue and applying sweet torture with his teeth. Torture that reverberated down to her clit, causing it to throb and ache until she couldn’t take it any longer. Pushing Killian back down onto the mattress, she ground down hard against him in an attempt to alleviate the torment. When she felt the damp press of his thumb against her she nearly cried out before remembering herself.

“That’s it, love,” he encouraged, vigorously applying just the right amount of pressure and rhythm to her clit as he shifted beneath her so he could continue to thrust up into her warm, slick center. “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight. So soft. So wet.” His words became breathier and more strained, his exertions unrelenting as his thumb and cock competed to bring her to completion. “Come for me,” he pleaded, though there was a tone of command that grew more prominent as he repeated them.

“Come for me, love. I want you to come. Need you to come. Come for me, Emma. Oh, Emma. Emma, Emma, My Emma. Come!”

And come, she did.

Hard.

Showing her no mercy, Killian kept pounding into her, his ministrations at her clit sending wave after wave of ecstasy and bone-numbing pleasure through her, making it impossible for her to stay upright. Collapsing against him, she felt his rhythm falter for a few brief seconds when he brought up his knees, giving him the necessary leverage to chase after her into the euphoric abyss she was still tumbling down. The sounds of his desperation panted and grunted and moaned in her ear, until his breath hitched and guttural groanings, deeper than words, reverberated through his chest and stuttered over his lips like his hips did against hers.

Emma wasn’t sure how long they laid there, sated and spent and unbearably content as their bodies cooled and their breaths evened out.

“Do you need to move?” Killian asked, his legs stretching back out as his arms kept her held firmly against him.

“I don’t want to,” she mumbled into the side of his neck. “But I probably ought to.”

During their post-coital cuddling, he’d already begun to soften and slip from her, but the emptiness she felt when he fully left her had them both quickly moving through their aftercare routines so they could be back in the other’s arms, nestled beneath the covers, as quickly as possible.

“Does it all still sound good to you, love?” Killian questioned between the soft kisses he was applying to the back of her shoulder.

“The wooing and pursuing and courting, you mean?” she clarified, sleepily.

“Aye.”

“Mmmm, you bet.”

~/~

“Well, I think that’s everything,” Liam said, tying a knot on the last of the trash bags that needed to be taken out. “Elsa is going over the check-out list one last time, but I think we’ve taken care of everything.”

“I don’t see why we even bothered,” David groused. “It’s not like the owner kept up his end of things.”

“And Elsa will make sure her review reflects that,” Liam assured him.

Emma and Killian exchanged amused glances with one another. Other than the heat going out that one night - which Kristoff had managed to fix the next day - she and Killian had been the only ones truly ‘inconvenienced’ by the misleading information in the cabin’s listing.

An inconvenience she was tempted to leave a five star review for.

Sleeps ten, her ass… and her eternal gratitude.

The End

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)

@bluewildcatfanatic @scotchiegirl @jonesfandomfanatic @idristardis @lfh1226-linda

@paradiselady19 @phoenix-untamed @jackieorioncat @tiganasummertree @snowbellewells

@brucethegirl @superchocovian @jennjenn615 @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kmomof4

@the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @zaharadessert @caught-in-the-filter @motherkatereloyshipper

@earanemith @captainodonoghue @jrob64 @djlbg @wyntereyez

@kday426 @gingerchangeling @winterbaby89

[myfearless-love]

Where the Lightning Strikes - CS one-shot

Relationship: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Characters: Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones

Additional Tags: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, There Was Only One Bed, Trapped by Weather, Touch-Starved, Killian Jones Has Self-Worth Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Soft Emma Swan, Slow Burn, Scars

Summary: In which Killian meets his match in stubbornness for perhaps the hundredth time, and Emma questions his definition of "fine." (Enchanted Forest AU)

READ HERE: AO3

Preview:

Tagging some folks who might be interested:

@anmylica @elfiola @zaharadessert @gingerchangeling @undercaffinatednightmare

@jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @mie779

@winterbaby89 @tiganasummertree @stahlop @rylieblu @ultraluckycatnd

@eddisfargo @booksteaandtoomuchtv @laianely @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke

@beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @captainswan-kellie @veryverynotgoodwrites @lfh1226-linda

@snowbellewells @caught-in-the-filter @shady-swan-jones @bluewildcatfanatic @fairytalepetzkle

(Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)

[snowbellewells]

@booksteaandtoomuchtv I was slow to discover this one, but I am loving it as well. The premise is not something I would usually be as drawn to, but you completely won me over almost as soon as Killian and Emma saw each other. Their conversation as they wait for their flight is so engaging and natural and charming - just priceless!! As ever, you have me so curious to see what journey this story will take us on! Thank you for sharing it!! 💕

Engineered by Fate (2/?)

1 | AO3

Summary: Emma's life is going according to plan. She finished her degree a few years ago, landed a stable job that she excels at, and spends her evenings in the dance studio with a great group of friends. But her love life is a bit of a mess that she would like to ignore.

Fate has other plans when she is dragged on a week-long factory tour and continuing education trip at work. What was meant to be a one-night fling turns into something that may change Emma's life forever.

Rating: E

Tag list: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertreee, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert (let me know if you want to be added or dropped)

They were three hours into their forty-five-minute layover. The gate agent had begun announcing increasingly less reassuring status updates. The last one had been, "They are performing maintenance on the plane's wiring.” Comforting.

When Smee, the seat thief, asked if Emma would join him and Killian, the pretty one, for a drink while they waited for the plane to board, she didn’t hesitate - a bit of time travelling at the bar sounded like the best way to get through this endless layover.  

The nearest bar was surprisingly busy for half ten on a Monday night, so they huddled around the only available stool. The soothing scent of cedarwood and the ocean breeze made Emma very aware of how close she was standing to Killian. His arm brushed against hers and he sent her an apologetic smile. The sincerity in those bright blue eyes sent a jolt of…something… through her body. She had a sudden vision of those eyes holding hers as he entered…Shut it down, right now. 

She tore her gaze from his before he could read her wildly inappropriate thoughts and glared at the half-empty cup in her hand as if it, rather than her recent break-up and several-month dry spell, was to blame for her filthy mind. Although the way he had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal his forearms and had unfastened the top buttons so that she could see a hint of dark hair curling on his chest was not exactly making it easy for her to keep her thoughts pure. 

She tried to focus on the conversation around her, but couldn't find the energy to feign interest in discussing collegiate sports. The downside to being one of few females in her office and on this trip was almost certainly the fact that most non-work conversations centred around college and professional sports. She was knowledgeable enough to keep a conversation moving but it took energy that she just couldn't muster up after hours. 

“Are you excited to get a year of continuing education credits in one week?” The question was harmless, innocent, and a bit of a desperate reach for something to discuss. But the way he had asked it with his voice low so only she could hear his words and as if he wanted to know her answer to this silly question more than he wanted for anything else had given flight to butterflies in her stomach. 

“Oh, no. I’ve just heard the cheese is good in Wisconsin.” Emma answered dryly, keeping her voice low to keep her nerves out of the words.

He flashed a breathtaking smile and hid it entirely too quickly behind his glass. “This will be a long week if you are just here to try out cheese.”

“It is going to be a long week no matter my incentives.”

“Fair enough.” Killian granted. “So, what category do you fall into?”

At the blank look Emma gave him, he continued. 

“Archie says that he brings contractors, owners, architects, and engineers on these trips. I fall into the ‘engineer’ category.” 

“And where would you put me?” Emma challenged playfully, but she was genuinely interested to see where Killian thought she fit. 

“Well, you’re not an architect,” Killian answered immediately with absolute certainty. 

“Oh, and what makes you think that?” Emma was not an architect but was not sure if she should be offended by his quick and absolute response or pleased with it. 

“I am certain of it. Architects are,” he paused, worrying his bottom lip before continuing, “well, you just are not an architect. You’re a bit too professional,” he gestured at her suit slacks and button to clarify his meaning, “to be a contractor. So, you are an owner or one of those rare unicorns.” 

“Hm, or maybe I am a well-disguised architect.”

“You’re not an architect,” Killian murmured almost as a reflex as he debated internally over her owner or engineer status. “I’ve got it. I have indeed sighted a unicorn. You are an engineer.” 

Emma laughed, feeling flattered despite the ridiculousness of it all. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Killian’s eyes danced with triumph and genuine excitement. As silly as this game was, he seemed truly delighted to have made her smile. 

“No. Actually, I am turophile. I convinced Archie to bring me along for the trip through blackmail.”

“Oh? And what kind of blackmail could anyone possibly have on Archie?” Killian raised his eyebrow, which enhanced the silliness of their conversation. 

“I cannot give you that kind of power over Archie,” Emma deflected.

“I promise to only use it for good.” 

“Your promise means very little to me; I hardly know you.”

“Hm, that is something I hope to change,” Killian muttered almost to himself, but the promise in those words sent a shiver down her back. Even if she wasn’t sure which bit he intended to change. Before Emma could ponder it further, Killian spoke again. “Where do you work? Savannah doesn’t have many engineering firms, especially in this industry.”

“I never said I was an engineer,” Emma answered, her eyes bright with humour.  

“You know, Emma, you’re something of an open book,” Killian teased. “So, I don’t need you to confirm it. I read it.” 

Emma rolled her eyes. Killian smiled brightly - as if the highest compliment that anyone could pay him was to roll their eyes at something he’d done. This was, perhaps, the most wonderful and silly conversation that she remembered having. Yet, it felt warm and comfortable. 

Conversations weren’t warm and comfortable for Emma. She was usually trying to make sure she was listening and planning what the right thing to say would be and trying to hold back from interrupting or wondering what to do with her hands or wishing she would stop saying so much as the words spilt out of her or… well, conversations, especially conversations with new people, were always difficult. This hadn’t been difficult. 

Even as quiet fell between them, it was companionable. It was the quiet of two old friends, happy to be together after too long apart in a world that was far too loud. And that scared Emma. What the Hell was happening?

As if he could sense something amiss in her head, Killian interrupted her, “So, where did you go to school for that not engineering degree?” 

Glad for the distraction and thrown off by whatever was happening, Emma granted him an easy answer, “Georgia Tech. You?”

“Clemson. But, I moved back home after college and went to Savannah to finish up one of my projects and decided to stay. How’d you end up in Savannah?”

“Oh, I worked at a small consultancy through college and work there full-time now.” It was the barest tip of the truth iceberg; beginnings were not the time to trade stories about relationships that turned toxic and the dreams and hearts they left broken in their wake. Killian nodded in acknowledgement of her answer, but in the depth of his blue eyes she saw the companion of her pain. He was holding back, too, she realised, and for similar reasons.

“If you could have any animal feature, what would you want?” Killian asked in the same way he had asked what university she had attended. As if this was the natural next question to continue their conversation.

A surprised laugh escaped from her, “What?”

“I would want a snow leopard tail,” Killian answered.

“Why?”

“Why not? They are so majestic and useful. Okay, I haven’t figured out what all I could use it for, but I want one.”

“You’d never fall again,” Emma suggested. 

“Exactly! See? Useful.”

“Ok, um,” Emma started and stopped immediately to consider the question. “What if I want to be able to transform into an animal for a while?”

“Sure.”

“A dragon because I could fly or breathe fire or nap without being disturbed now that knights no longer exist.”

“Dragon also do not exist,” Killian pointed out.

“Neither do grown men with leopard tails,” Emma noted.

“Good point,” Killian conceded. He set his empty glass on the bar top and ordered another round for them. They continued their strange, almost whimsical, conversation until the gate agent welcomed them onto their connecting flight. And when Killian boarded the flight, he took the seat next to Emma. 

[everything-person]

Summary: Killian, along with his brother, lived deep under the sea being raised by his grandfather King Triton in King Posideons court. Emma lived high on land in the Enchanted Forest being raised by her parents Queen Snow White and King "James" in the Misthaven court. Their worlds so close yet so far. What happens when they meet and their curiosity gets the best of them?

A/N: This story is based on one of the first fanfics I ever read, Castles in the Sand by alleycat22 on fanfic.net. It was unfortunately never finished so this fic is an ode to that story. I am not trying to plagiarize anyones work there will be similarities because one fic inspired another.

Prologue

The mist of the sea sprayed against her skin as the wind whipped her golden hair. The wood bit into her palms as she gripped the railing of the ship leaning back enjoying the sea air; listening to the waves crash against the ship beneath them.

“Isn’t this great?” She turns her head upwards to see her father standing just behind her, a smile gracing his features.

“The salty sea air, the wind blowing in your face,” He inhales deeply before letting out a sigh, “Perfect day to be at sea.”

Finally looking down at her she smiles back at him.

“A fine strong wind and a following sea,” the gruff voice of a sailor near them caught her ear, “King Triton and Poseidon must be in a fine mood.”

“King Triton?”

“Why ruler of the merpeople your highness,” another sailor answered.

“Merpeople?”

“Yes! Mermaids and mermen, half fish half human, swimming about below this very vessel.”

The young girl’s eyes went wide as she leaned forward, feeling her father’s hands come to rest on either side of her waist, bent in half staring at the water below them, trying to catch a glimpse of the creature the sailor spoke of.

“And King Triton rules over them with a mighty hand. ”

She absorbed every word the sailors said. Her imagination running wild with all this new information. Then she paused, standing up straight once more she turned her attention to the sailors.

“Who's Poseidon?”

“Poseidon is his brother. He rules all the sea and the creatures that live there. Each brother can control the tides and the storms too, so when the sea is restless you know something is a miss in their kingdom.”

Almost as if to prove the sailors point a strong waves rocked the ship, nearly causing the young princess to tumble over if it wasn't for her father hands still griping her sides.

She turned to her father, “Do you think it's true, Papa?”

Her father shrugged, “I’m not sure, Emma. I’ve never seen a merperson.”

“I have.”

They turned to see the lady of the ship finally on deck. Emma raced over to the woman looking up at her, eyes slightly widened, mouth agape.

“Really, Mama?”

Her mother knelt down, gently brushing her daughter's wind swept her from her face. “Really. She was beautiful and very kind and very curious.”

“How come I’ve never heard this story?” Her father asked behind her.

Her mother shrugged looking up at her husband, “You never asked.”

“Will you tell me?”

She looked down at her daughter, “I’d love to.”

Emma's face lit up with her excited smile.

“But another time. You have some studying to do,” the twinkle in her daughter's eyes quickly faded as her mouth turned down into a pout, “Just because we are traveling doesn’t mean you get out of your studies. I promise when we are done I will tell you all about my friend Ariel.”

Her mother stood, grabbing her hand to lead her below deck. Emma dragged her feet but followed her mother, though the pout never left her face until a question came to mind.

“Mama,” she said, catching the woman's attention, “Do you think I could meet a mermaid?”

“Maybe.” The woman thought about her words carefully, not wishing to deject her daughter, “It is rare to see a mermaid, let alone meet one, like I did, but anything is possible.”

They passed by a sailor who had just pulled up a fishing net, detangling their catch. He pulled out one that was slightly too big for his hand, so when it started the squirm as the ship was rocked again, it slipped from his grasp, falling back down to the sea. It swam deeper and farther trying to get away from its captors. It swam right past a young boy.

Following the trail the fish left, the boy saw it lead to the surface. His curiosity got the better of him so he swam up, seeing the hull of the ship cutting through the water. The closer he got the more his curiosity grew, and he reached out his hand towards the ship.

“Killian!”

He turned to see his brother's scowl, “What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?”

“I was just-”

“First, you are late! Grandfather has everyone looking everywhere for you! And I find you chasing after a human's ship!”

“I-”

His brother grabbed his hand, beginning to drag him the opposite way of the ship towards their home. “You could’ve been seen! You could’ve been caught in one of their nets! You could’ve been harpooned! You could’ve been killed! Is that what you want? Huh? To be dragged out of the water and hung up to dry in the sun? Is it, little brother?”

“Younger brother,” Killian muttered.

“What?” His brother turned to face him again.

“Nothing happened, just relax.”

“This time! Nothing happened this time. You need to be more careful. You’ll be lucky if I don’t tell Grandfather about this.” Never letting go of Killian’s wrist, his older brother began swimming again.

They swam for a while before reaching an iridescent glowing city. Continuing through until they reach a glittering palace, that currently had many merfolk anxiously swimming around its grounds.

“King Triton, he's found!” a guard called into the palace, as the two boys swam into view.

In an instant the boys found themselves in front of the king himself, relief washed over the grand king's face as he spotted the two boys.

“Killian, thank the seas you're alright,” The older man embarrassed the smaller boy.

The once anxious waters calmed with the king, as merfolk stopped their search and went back to their duties.

“Liam, where did you find him?”

“Um, well.”

At the older boy's hesitation, the king pulled away from the younger, holding him by the shoulders, fixing both of them with a look. “Where did you find him?”

KIllian’s hand found its way to the spot behind his ear, “I was just exploring.”

“Exploring where?” The man's eyes shifted between the two boys as both were seemingly more interested in their tails than in giving him an answer.

With a sigh Liam spoke up, “I found him chasing a human ship.”

“HUMANS!”

Killian flinched, “I was just curious.”

“Killian, how many times must we go over this?! The surface and humans are dangerous!”

“I was being careful. Nothing happened.”

“THIS TIME! You could’ve been seen by one of those barbarians! I’ve already lost two daughters to them! Do you think I wish to lose one of my grandsons as well?! I am never NEVER to hear about you and humans again, is that clear!” The king’s voice boomed with authority off the palace walls.

Killian’s head bowed deeper as Liam gave a quiet “yes sir.”

The king sighed, “What am I going to do with you boys?”

Silence hung in the water between the three of them before the king spoke up again. “You are both to go to your room for the rest of the day. I will have supper sent to you. Neither of you are permitted to leave this palace until I say so. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” the boys answered.

As soon as they did, the king waved them off and they swam to their room.

“I don’t know why he’s so mad,” Killian started, “It wasn’t like I was seen.”

“He’s not mad, Killian. He’s scared. As was I.”

Killian continued as if his brother had never spoken, “And I don’t know why he talks about Ariel as if she's dead. She isn’t.”

“But Mother is.” Liam said pointedly.

Killian turned away at his brother's remark.

“Humans aren't to be taken lightly, little brother. They are dangerous and can be cruel.”

“Younger brother,” Killian muttered. 

They stayed in silence. It was only when they reached their room that Killian spoke up. “I’m not afraid of humans. I could fight.”

Liam chuckled “Oh yeah?”

He nudged his brother who pushed back. Their pushing turned to shoves, which turned to grappling, which turned into an all out wrestling match. They wrestled until Liam pinned him. 

“You were saying, little brother?"

“Younger brother.” Killian stated defiantly as he shoved Liam off him. “Do you think I’ll ever meet a human?”

“For your sake, I hope not,” Liam said just as Killian grabbed onto his shoulder and began round two of their wrestling match.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AND Thats all she wrote. I hope it was worth the read.

[donteattheappleshook]

Not Broken at All Chapter 18/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated E

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Oh hey! What's up everyone?

I know it's been a while (shocking) but it's Solstice today and the muse decided something needed to be posted for this fic in honour of the fairy orgies XD

This was written super fast and not really re-read because it's already 10pm so I'll probably edit it later but I'm giving it to you all now.

Happy Solstice and I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

********

Part 18

“Doesn’t look so bad,” Will shrugs when they stand outside the mouth of the cave the next morning. Emma and Wendy roll their eyes at the same time. It does look that bad. For a place called Echo Cave she’d had expected something bigger, something louder. But all she can see as they approach is a narrow tunnel in the rockface, no sound escaping from within. So she jumps when Tiger Lily’s voice suddenly comes from within. 

“You’re late.”

“Apologies,” Killian nods. “The forest has changed a fair bit since I last made the journey - it took us longer than anticipated to find the path.” 

“You have a habit of doing that,” Tiger Lily scoffs. “Misinterpreting time.” 

The reply is so quick, and Killian’s sigh so exhausted, that Emma has to hold back a snort of laughter.

“We came as fast as we could.”

“Come then, let’s not delay any further. The others have gathered.” 

“Who are the others?” Emma asks Hook quietly as they follow.

“The eldest of those who were here before Pan. They were barely more than children when it happened, but They have some memory of how things were.” 

“I thought you said they’d forgotten all their magic.” 

“We did not forget,” Tiger Lily snaps from the entrance. Emma watches as the faint, gold dusting of magic that covers their skin, the only light in the otherwise pitch black cave shimmers and slides over their arm, cascading like water down through their fingers  that they trail along the  rocky wall, leaving flecks of sparking, gold dust in their wake.  “It was taken from us. Through slaughter and cruelty. When the children who were left behind grew enough to become a threat to Pan, we were forced to lock away what little we remembered or meet the same fate.” 

Every time she thinks it can’t get worse, it does. The massacre of Tiger Lily’s people and the destruction of their history, the torture and killing of the Lorelei, the horror of the murder of those boys on the beach. There’s no end it seems to Pan’s cruelty, to his thirst for blood. 

Emma reaches for the shimmering of light that remains along the wall, glittering and moving with the flow of the rough surface. It glows brighter beneath her touch and something swells from deep within her, rushing to meet it, warm and electrifying, before she yanks her hand back and stumbles the rest of the way though. 

The walk is long, this cave buried deep in darkness and stardust. She’s not sure she even hears it at first, a small whisper of a voice from far away, the words too quiet to make out, but repeating. As they continue along and a dim light starts to appear in the distance, they grow louder. It’s a child’s voice, rolling against the walls of the cave - wish I’d never come here… just want to go home. Just want to go home. Just want to go home….

She feels Killian’s hand on the small of her back and realizes she’s stopped walking. “It’s alright, love. It’s just an echo. The last secret that was shared here.” She still hesitates, not wanting to get any closer to the haunting voice. “Whoever they were, they’re not here anymore.”

“His name was Ruffio,” Will says, nearly as quiet as the first echo. “He’s been gone a long time.” He only meets her eye for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing as though he hadn’t said anything. She can’t blame him. She knows by now that nobody in Neverland ever goes home. “Come on - we’ve got secrets to spill.” 

The light ahead grows until finally they emerge into a massive cavern. The stone that surrounds them black onyx - gleaming faintly against the dust that covers the ceiling like a galaxy above them. The space feels boundless, endless like the darkness could go on forever and she’s reminded of their flight here, of the endless sea of stars they’d sailed in on. 

There are four people standing in the center of the chamber on a platform of the same black onyx, all of them with the same sharp, androgynous features as Tiger Lily, all with the same loose-fitting clothes and cropped hair, and all with that same shimmer of living magic glowing faintly in the dark. Tink stands with them, waiting. None of them are any older in appearance than herself, but she knows better by now than to judge age or power by appearance on this island. 

The Constant. 

They follow the rest of the way to the narrow, stone bridge that connects the ledge to the platform on which the others stand. When Emma takes a step to follow Tiger Lily onto the bridge, Killian puts an arm out, halting her in her tracks. Emma watches, heart in her throat as the bridge crumbles after Tiger Lily, stone falling away behind every step until they reach the end and there’s no bridge at all. 

“The Constant keep no secrets,” Killian explains. “The cave can’t compel anything from them. We, on the other hand…” 

“Of course they don’t.” No wonder they wanted to use this place. Easy to make others share their deepest darkest secrets when you’ve got none of your own to divulge and nothing to risk. “What about Tink?” she asks, nodding at the fifth person standing with the Constant.

“The fey have wings.” 

Right. “So how does this work?” 

“From what I remember, you step out onto the edge and call out your secret. If it’s truly your darkest, the cave will echo it back to you.”

“And then we get across?” 

“Aye, easy as that,” Killian attempts a smile, but it comes out as a wince. “I’ll go,” he offers though he looks like he’s dreading this as much as she is. She’s just thankful she doesn’t have to start.  He lets out another sigh, bracing himself and then, “I kissed Emma.” 

Fuck. Her heart drops into her stomach. He’s been a pirate for two hundred years - How the hell can his darkest secret have anything to do with her?

Will smirks. “Kissed? Is that what they’re calling it these days? And I think you’re forgetting that we were all there when she jumped you at Solstice.” His smirk deepens. “And when Emma came back all wet.” If Emma could reach him she’d smack him. 

“I literally walked in on you,” Wendy deadpans.

“I’m not talking about Solstice,” he sighs, not rising to the bait. “It was…” She knows when it was. We’ll keep each other safe, they’d promised. She doesn’t need everyone else to know though. Not when she’s not even sure what any of it meant or what it means now. “It doesn’t matter,” Killian shakes his head. “It was what the kiss - what all of it - exposed.” Fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. “My secret is… I never believed that I’d be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah.” He breathes her name like a prayer and a wound. “To believe that I could find someone else.” His eyes lift to hers and it’s only by sheer force of will that she’s able to stop herself from taking a step back, from running away from the way he’s looking at her. Because she needs to hear this. They all do. If she wants to get across this fucking bridge, if she wants to talk to the fucking Constant, if she wants to get her son back - she needs to hear this secret as much as he needs to tell it. “That is, until I met you.”

She doesn’t know what to say or if she’s supposed to say something, can’t bring herself to look at Wendy or Will or look away from his eyes still burning into hers. And then before she even can do anything, Killian’s voice echoes through the cave, ‘until I met you’ called back to them like a ghost. A rumble follows as a section of the fallen bridge rises back from the depths below them, rock by rock, rebuilding itself. 

Killian lets out a humourless laugh. “So, who’d like to go next?” 

“I will.” Wendy stands with her shoulders straight, like she’s ready for a fight rather than a confession. Emma gets a sinking feeling in her stomach from the way she’s making herself look at Killian, with shame and guilt. He doesn’t look surprised - he looks like he expected this to hurt. “Sometimes… Sometimes I wish you’d never found me. Sometimes I wish you had just kept on walking that day when Pan left me to die.” She winces. “I’ll always be grateful to you for saving my life, for taking me in but…” 

Killian nods when she hesitates, her eyes damp with unshed tears. “Go on, it’s alright.”  

“You trapped me here, Hook. You’re the reason I have to live in this neverending nightmare. Forever. You knew what that water would do to me and I know you couldn’t ask but… you didn’t give me a choice. And I think that if I had one now - if I could have had a say in the next hundred years of my life… I’d rather you’d just let me die because this -” she gestures at herself, at everything around them.  “It’s worse than death. And because of you I’ll never leave.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “I can’t even die if I want to. Not unless Pan decides that’s what he wants. You forced this life on me, Killian, you cursed me to live because it made you feel better and I don’t… I’ll never forgive you for that.” 

Tears stain her cheeks now, jaw tight as she refuses to let any more follow and Emma can see the heartbreak on Killian’s face. “Wendy…” but she shakes her head and he stops the step he’d taken towards her. 

“I’m sorry,” she chokes and he shakes his head this time. Her secret echoes around them like a taunt this time - ‘never forgive you for that’ - and another piece of the bridge rebuilds itself. The silence hangs between them, louder than any echo, until Will steps up. 

“I suppose I should go next - while we’re on the topic of never being forgiven.” He takes his own steadying breath. “I’m dying.” 

Wendy’s face falls. “... what?” It comes out cracked and small and frightened. “What do you mean you’re dying?”

The look Will gives her - there’s so much guilt there, so much pain and self-loathing and love. Emma may not know much about it but she can recognize it now in his eyes, in the way he looks at Wendy. “I lied when I told you I didn’t know what Pan did to my heart. I’ve seen him do it before.”

“One hundred years…”

Will nods, a self-deprecating smile falling flat. “I really hoped that I could keep it from you for a little longer. Neverland will slow it down but… he squeezed a hundred years from my heart. I’ll start aging faster - a lot faster - and pretty soon…”

“How long?” He hesitates a beat longer than Emma can handle - and Wendy… gods, she can’t imagine. “How long?”

“I’ll be dead in a few months - three, maybe four depending on how long I would have lived if I’d aged like a normal person but - I’m so sorry, Wen. I didn’t want to tell you, I -”

Whatever he was going to say and whatever she might have answered  is stolen by the cave calling back to them in Will’s voice, ‘dead in a few months’. Nobody looks as the bridge puts itself back together, all of them too focused on the cruel revelation. He did it for her, Emma realises, for all of them but… he’s dying because of her. Wendy’s losing him because of her. Even Killian looks solemn at the news. 

“Your turn, Emma,” Will chokes out with the palest attempt at levity she’s seen him manage since she met him. “Wouldn’t want to be left out of all the fun, would you?”

She looks out towards the chasm between them and the Constant. She doesn’t even know what she expected to confess, or what she’d hear confessed by those with her, and now, with the truth of Will’s fate hanging in the air, nothing feels like it matters in the grand scheme of things. 

What even is her deepest secret? That she gave up Henry? That she had her heart broken by a selfish man who used her and then left her? That she spent a year of her life in jail? That she’s spent her whole life searching for the parents who left her behind? That between Neal and her parents she doesn’t think she could ever trust someone again - could ever let herself love someone again, or let them love her… That she might be anyway? None of it feels like enough; none of it even feels like a secret anymore, not since Henry found her and brought her to Storybrooke. 

And then, like bile and sick, she feels something being forced up from her throat, words clawing their way to the surface and past her lips of their own volition. She can’t stop them. She doesn’t even know what she’s going to say until they come spilling out. 

“I wish Henry had never come to find me. I wish he’d never brought me to Storybrooke.” The confession leaves her gasping, tears in her eyes as though she had been sick. She wants to be, hearing such a horrible truth being spoken out loud. Killian looks at her with sympathy, but she turns away from it. And once it’s started, she can’t stop it. “I never wanted to be a mother. I gave him away because I knew he’d be better off without me - but also because I knew I’d be better off without him. He’s a beautiful, amazing kid and I love him more than anything… but I never asked for this. Every day since he showed up at my door I’ve been terrified - every minute of every day. Those few minutes in the Fae forest when I couldn’t remember him were the most peaceful I’ve felt in months and when it all came flooding back it just reminded me of how much simpler my life was before I had to be anything to anyone. I don’t want to lose him. But I never wanted to find him either.” 

The bridge rebuilds itself, completing the path across as the worst thing she’s ever said, ‘never wanted to find him’,  is echoed back to her cruelly. She feels drained, numb, and she wonders if the others are feeling this horrible emptiness too. She looks out at where the Constant wait. If this is their idea of having them prove their allegiance, they better be ready to give theirs in return.

“Come on, Swan,” Killian tells her, leading her across the bridge. None of them say a word, Will and Killian both casting glances at Wendy who won’t look up from her feet, and the silence follows them the whole way across. 

“That sounded rough,” Tink comments when they reach the platform, the five Constant talking in harsh whispers in a language she doesn’t recognize. 

“How lucky of you to have missed it then,” Will snips. He must be feeling worse than Emma realized.

There’s an argument starting, still in that foreign language, but she can tell just the same. Every few words there’s a glimpse of something that feels familiar, a syllable from another language she’s heard, a word that could be French or Spanish, a glimpse of English, not one language but many - like every language spoken at once.

“This meeting has been a topic of some controversy,” Killian whispers. “But I think Tiger Lily might be on our side.” 

“You can understand them?” 

He shrugs. “One picks up a few things after two centuries.”

There’s a small scoff from Tink. “Yeah, all that pillow talk was really educational.”

Killian ignores the quip. “They’re the keepers of the last of the forgotten history of the old Neverland.” He nods at each as he names them. “That’s Philodendron, Halcyon, Alder, Jacaranda, and you know Tiger Lily.

“Tiger Lily is one of them?” 

“Tiger Lily was the oldest Constant to survive the massacre. They were just shy of a century when Pan took over.”

“A century?”

“The Constant are eternal, love. A century is nothing.” 

The Constant have gone silent, a tense, begrudging conclusion to their argument that Emma can feel even if she doesn’t know the words. 

Finally, Tiger Lily speaks. “Tinkerbell tells us you wish to unearth the secrets of the island - secrets that were buried to keep us safe.”

“Secrets that could return the island to the way it once was if you ally with us against Pan,” Killian counters. 

“If our knowledge could have defeated the boy,” Alder interjects, “we would have done so a millenia ago when he first laid waste to this island.” 

“Maybe your knowledge alone couldn’t defeat him, but we have the Lorelei on our side, and the fae,” Wendy adds, gesturing at Tink. 

Alder scoffs. “You have one fairy. One who’s been without magic for almost five hundred years, who’s magic was corrupted by the very demon you seek to destroy. Our magic was born from the innocence and dreams of children, the purest light magic there is, and even it was snuffed out by Pan’s darkness. What chance have you with a weakened fairy and the duplicitous sirens?” 

“We have more than that,” Tink interjects, bitterness and insult obvious in the bite of her words. “We have her.” It takes Emma a moment to realize that she’s the one being gestured at and now every set of eyes is on her. 

“Me?” 

“Her?” Wendy frowns. 

“You can’t honestly tell me you haven’t noticed. She practically reeks of magic. It’s spilling out of every pore. I clocked it as soon as she got here.” 

“I don’t have magic.” The Constant continue to stare, questioning, doubting. “I don’t. Don’t you think if I did I’d have used it by now to get Henry back?” 

“Not if you weren’t aware of it, love,” Killian offers gently.

“Okay but I’m not some fairytale character; I’m from Boston - the land without magic. I don’t have any power.” 

“Oh for…” Tink swears under her breath, crossing the room and grabbing Emma’s wrist. Faster than she can stop her, the fairy pulls a small blade from the complicated twist of pins and leather that keeps her mass of blonde hair piled on top of her head, ivory handle embellished with gold runes, and slashes it across Emma’s palm. 

“Ow! What the hell!” Emma shouts, yanking her hand away. That fucking hurt. Tinkerbelle doesn’t resist, the rest of their small crew moving to intervene, but all at once, they freeze. Emma follows their gazes to her hand, clutched tightly in a fist to her chest and her breath catches. There’s light seeping through the cracks in her fingers, golden and swirling like smoke, shimmering like the magic that flows over the Constant’s skin. 

Jacaranda reaches a hand out to her, palm upturned in a request and Emma looks to the others before carefully placing her hand in theirs. Carefully, the Constant unfurls her fingers, examining the light that shines from her wound with a careful touch. Their eyes go wide. “This is our magic,” they say, voice soft and tinged with awe. “Ours and… something else.” 

“May I?” Philodendron asks, extending their own hand. Emma nods, even as the urge to refuse shouts at her. You don’t have magic. You’re not magic. You’re a goddamn bail bonds person from Boston, not a fairytale character. Philodendron looks at her after taking a moment to examine the wound themselves. “This is light magic,” they confirm. “It’s raw and untapped but powerful, more powerful than anything I’ve seen since before Pan’s time.” They twist her hand a bit, trying to look closer, to read something in whatever they see that Emma can’t. “But this isn’t born of belief and dreams as ours is, it's the product of something else… of -”

“True love,” Emma breathes out, so low she doesn’t mean for anyone to hear it. Henry had said that hadn’t he? That she was supposed to be the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, that she was supposed to be the Saviour. 

“Yes, that’s it,” Philodendron nods slowly. “You were right, Tinkerbelle. This is more powerful magic than we anticipated.” 

“Can you use it?” Emma asks, still not believing it really, but if it means they’ll help her get her kid back, she doesn’t care what she has to do. 

“That depends,” Halcyon takes a step forward. “Can you wield it?” 

“No, I…” she doesn’t even know how this is possible. 

“I can.” They all turn to Tink, Emma cradling her hand to her chest once more. “If you tell me what we need to do, I can guide her. But you’ll have to let me.” The last bit is directed at her and she hesitates… Tink hasn’t exactly made a secret of the fact that she’s not a fan of hers, and she just slashed her damn hand open… Trust already isn’t her strong suit to begin with. “I’m not going to steal it,” Tink snaps and looks genuinely offended and Emma remembers that she knows what it is to have her power taken from her. 

“I know you won’t. I just… what if it doesn’t work?” How powerful could this magic be? She’s not anything special, she never has been. Why would this be any different? 

“Then I guess you don’t get your kid back.” 

“Tink,” Killian warns but Emma can’t help but appreciate the fairy’s bluntness. 

“What do we need to do?” 

“This cavern, ” TigerLily starts, taking a knee and placing a hand reverently on the stone, “used to be a sacred place. It held all of the secrets of Neverland, and the dreams of children who visited - the purest and most honest of truths of all - fueled the island as it did our magic. This was its source - the source of everything. 

“But then Pan tainted this cave with his twisted version of secrets as power, as something to be wielded, and forced us to sacrifice the last of the light magic that still breathed life into Neverland, the cavern shielded itself from his darkness. Now it echoes truths rather than accept ones taken maliciously. This place… has seen nothing but darkness for centuries. It has not been sleeping, but fighting, the last of the resistance against Pan right under his nose, keeping the darkness at bay and it has hardened. We need to remind it what the light looks like.” 

“It can have mine. Whatever this is. If it can help and if this place can defeat Pan it can have all of it.” 

Tiger Lily smiles kindly. “Not all of it. It would never snuff out your light. But even the slightest kindling can spark an inferno and with it you can breathe magic back into the island.” 

“How?” 

They nod to Tink who retrieves her knife again, slashing her own palm this time, the light that glows from her wound a shimmering green, and holds her hand out to Emma. Heat burns across her skin when she takes Tink’s offered hand, the light between them growing, shining and mixing. Tink places her other hand on Tiger Lily’s shoulder and the Constant flattens both their palms against the stone beneath them. After a moment, they look to Emma and she knows she’s doing it wrong. She’s not doing anything but she’s doing it wrong. 

“I’m sorry.”

Tiger Lily shakes their head, their smile not malicious, but understanding. 

“I have met so many lost boys and girls on this island. So many broken, hardened children lead here by fear and hurt and neglect, so afraid to trust, to love, to admit or even accept what they want, what they desire more than anything - what has been robbed of them. This place is born of dreams and truths and you, dear Swan, strong Swan, brave Swan… frightened Swan, have locked yourself away from both.” 

“But I already told this place my darkest secret.” But she doesn’t need Tiger Lily to tell her - this place echoes darkness, resists darkness. That secret was Pan’s magic - not Neverland’s. 

“What do you dream of, Emma? What truths do you keep from yourself?” Emma opens her mouth to speak but Tiger Lily holds up a hand. “Do not tell them to me. Tell them to the lost girl. Unburden her.” 

What does she dream of? Things she can’t have, things she’s never had, things that were taken away. She wants to find her parents, that’s no secret though, she’s always known that. She wants them to have never given her up in the first place. She wanted a family, the one she could have had with Henry and Neal if he hadn’t turned out to be the vile person he was, the life that she’d had just a glimpse of after one missed period, before everything went to shit. She doesn’t want that anymore. She hasn’t let herself want any of it since then, not love, not family, not hope… 

Her skin begins to warm, something flaring beneath the surface. Liar. She doesn’t know if it’s the cave or herself or her magic but it echoes through her like her secret against the walls. Tiger Lily accused her of locking herself away from her dreams, from her truths, but can they even still be truths if they’ve been silenced and stomped down for decades? 

She thinks of the lost girl she was, abandoned, a runaway on the street, burning the last of her childhood, of stupid fairytales and stories to keep warm in a world that was only ever cold. What had that girl wanted? Powerless, lost, alone. That girl who felt like nothing, who meant nothing to anyone, who had never mattered and never would, who had only herself to take care of her. She wanted to matter - to someone, to herself, she wanted people to matter to her, to be able to let them. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. Even as she pushed away every foster parent, every friend, every lover as she grew older, she didn’t want - she doesn’t want - to have to do it alone. 

That’s what she dreams of, what she refuses to admit that she dreams of. That for all of her rightly earned distrust of everyone, for all of her caution and her fear of abandonment, of love and hope, she wants to be able to let them in, let them matter. She wants to believe that she could have that happily ever after that she’s scorned all her life. 

Images flash in her mind as the heat builds, her body tingling, a faint glimmer of light shining against her shut eyelids. Henry smiling in her doorway in Boston, Mary Margaret offering her a home, Killian bringing her to Neverland, Wendy helping her hide from Pan, Will sacrificing himself for her, Killian nearly sacrificing Milah’s name - sacrificing his memories, all of them banding together to help her save her kid, even Tink now, helping her to wield magic she doesn’t understand. 

She’s not alone. She’s not in this alone. For the first time in her life she has people she can count on. People she can trust. She thinks of the smile Henry gave her when she let him know she wasn’t going to leave Storybrooke even though she could, of Mary Margaret’s pep talks, of shared hot chocolate and drinks and advice in their apartment, of Killian in that dank brig after one of the worst hours of her life - perhaps I would - of his words whispered in the quiet darkness of his cabin - I’m here. You don’t have to ask - of his confession echoing around them - until I met you. She does matter to people. She’s not nothing. She was never nothing. She matters and she has people who matter to her. 

Her whole body alights, the blood in her veins not blood anymore but something else, something powerful and she can feel it surging beneath her skin, pulled by a force as it rushes through her and towards that opening in her palm. The white of her light overtakes the green and Tink’s body jerks like the surge of magic is as jarring to her as it is for Emma. Tiger Lily gasps, the ground beneath them starting to glow, tendrils of golden light snaking towards them across the stone like rivulets. Their body starts to shimmer, the dusting of gold shining brighter until their skin is swallowed by it completely. 

Emma can feel sweat beading on her skin, the salt mixing with the tears she hadn’t realized she’d been crying. She doesn’t know how much longer she can keep this up, the power coursing through her overwhelming. Tink’s hand is shaking in hers, both their palms damp and slippery and white knuckled and she can’t imagine how much more effort the fairy is putting in as the one actually channeling all of this. 

“There’s so much,” Tiger Lily says in awe. “We’ve forgotten so much.” Their eyes are glowing with the same gold that covers their skin, their mouth pulling into a smile even as tears roll down their cheeks. 

“I can’t -” Tink starts, but doesn’t let Emma release her hand when she tries to stop.

There’s another moment, the light engulfing the Constant almost completely, so bright Emma has to look away, before finally, suddenly, it stops. The three of them slump against the ground with a gasp of exhaustion. Emma doesn’t even turn when she feels hands on her shoulders, helping her to sit up, she knows it’s him. Wendy is at Tink’s side helping to support her as well as the Constant circle around Tiger Lily, all of them holding one another in a moment that feels beautiful and private as joy and heartbreak play over their faces. 

“Can you. Stop him?” Tink pants out. 

“I… I think so. There’s just - there’s so much. I need time to sort through it all.” 

“We don’t. Have. Time.”

“All of the secrets of Neverland, millennia’s worth, have just been poured into my mind. It will take me more than a few minutes to understand it all and find what will help us.” 

“How much time?” Emma asks. Henry’s already been here too long - too long without knowing that she’s here, that she’s coming for him. 

“I don’t… give me a few nights at least. Come back in three days. That should give me time to make sense of what is needed at least.” Their eyes are far away, like they’re not seeing the cavern around them but something far bigger and far more extraordinary.  

Emma nods. “Three days?” 

“Three days. And then we’ll rid this island of its false king forever.”

***********

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[jrob64]

Slipping Into Your Heart

A Captain Swan New Year's Story

Happy New Year, everyone! This one-shot was written as part of the Captain Swan Winter Bingo event and checks off the box 'slipping on the ice' on my card.

@kmomof4 pointed out that my last posted story Drummer Boys, Reindeer and Romance actually checked off TWO boxes - reindeer and cuddling by the fire. I'll take it!

Special thanks to @hookedmom for her beta work all year.

Story Summary: After three terrible New Year's Eve dates in a row, Emma Swan decides to spend this one at home by herself. But when the handsome, blue-eyed Grubhub driver who delivers her dinner slips and falls on her icy sidewalk, she feels compelled to take care of him.

Rating: T

Words (Ch. 1/1): 6065

Can also be found on Ao3 and ffn

*********

“Don’t worry about me, Mary Margaret,” Emma Swan said into the phone, as she entered her bedroom to grab her purse. “I just ordered Grubhub. It should be here any minute.”

“I wish you had come over to eat with us tonight,” her friend responded a bit forlornly.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m looking forward to an evening all to myself,” Emma said. She was a little surprised to realize she was being completely honest. “I’m already in my comfy clothes and I plan on watching the new season of The Great British Baking Show with some hot cocoa and popcorn, later.”

“I hate to think of you being alone on New Year’s Eve.”

“I would rather be alone than with any of the guys I had as dates for the last three New Year’s Eves. Those dates were unmitigated disasters, as you well know.”

“Jefferson wasn’t so bad,” Mary Margaret commented.

“Are you kidding? He was crazy as a loon! He showed up wearing a top hat, for crying out loud.”

Mary Margaret sighed. “Well, don’t give up on dating, Emma. One of these days, the right guy will come along.”

“That’s what you keep saying. At least one of us has hope.” Just then, the doorbell rang. “I have to go; my food is here. I hope you and David have a great time tonight. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Enjoy your evening, Emma. Happy New Year!”

After ending the call, Emma hurried out to the living room and opened the front door. Standing on her porch was the Grubhub delivery man.

Emma had food delivered on a semi-regular basis and met many delivery people, but most she didn’t really remember after she closed the door. However, this particular delivery person she had never seen before, because if she had, she was quite certain she would have remembered him.

The man standing in front of her was attractively dressed in dark jeans, a button down shirt and black leather jacket. He was about six feet tall and obviously in very good shape. After taking all of this in, her eyes moved to his face. That’s when her breath caught in her throat, because he was, quite literally, breathtaking.

The bluest eyes she had ever seen sparkled beneath long lashes and expressive brows. Attractive sideburns faded into neatly-trimmed scruff on his strong jawline and chin, and his dark hair curled around his adorable, slightly pointed ears. His other perfectly proportioned facial features completed his handsome face.

Emma realized he was smirking and wondered how long she had been staring at him. Giving herself a mental shake, she cleared her throat. “Uh, hi, I, um…I guess you have some food for me?”

“Aye, lass. I have your order right here,” he said, holding up a large plastic bag.

An accent. He had a fucking British accent.

Once again, she had to remind herself to speak. “Thank you. I, uh…oh, hang on a second. Let me get you a tip.”

She took the bag from him and set it on the floor beside her. Digging inside her purse, she pulled out her wallet. “I should give you extra for coming out on New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s not necessary, madam.”

Riffling through her wallet, she pulled out a five dollar bill and two singles. “Then I’ll pay you extra to never call me that name again.”

He laughed as he took the offered bills. “Thanks very much. I hope you have a lovely evening, E.S.,” he said, referring to her initials from the order information.

“You, too,” she answered, picking up the food.

He gave her a grin, then turned and went down the porch steps. Instead of closing the door right away, she watched him walking down the sidewalk to his car. Just as she began to swing the door shut, she heard him let out a yelp and looked out to see his feet fly out from under him. His arms flailed as he attempted to keep his balance, but it didn’t help. He fell hard on his back, his head thankfully missing the concrete and landing in her snow-covered yard.

“Oh my gosh!” Emma exclaimed, dropping the bag of food, flying out the door, and rushing quickly but carefully to where he lay moaning. “Are you alright?”

He sat up slowly, brushing the snow out of his hair with one hand, while the other rubbed the small of his back. “I think so?” he answered unconvincingly.

“I’m so sorry! I shoveled the snow so the sidewalk would be clear for you, but didn’t notice the ice underneath.”

“It’s okay, lass,” he said, though the grimace on his face told a different story.

“Here, let me help you up.” She offered him her hand and began tugging. He had just gotten his feet under him, when she slipped and fell on top of him.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned.

“I am very, very sorry,” Emma apologized, then dropped her head to his sternum and burst into laughter. She was relieved to hear his answering chuckle.

When she got herself under control, she managed to get to her feet and looked down at him. He lay there smiling up at her. “I better give you a bigger tip to help cover your medical bills,” she quipped.

He rolled over and got to his knees, then cautiously pushed himself to his feet. Standing in the snow beside the slick sidewalk, he tilted his head from side to side, both hands on his back. “That won’t be necessary, Love. I appear to be in one piece.”

“At least let me get you an ice pack to put on your back while you drive to your next delivery.”

“You don’t need to go to that trouble, either. You are my last stop of the night.”

“I hope you’re not too sore for your New Year’s plans tonight .”

He scratched behind his ear. “That’s not a problem. I don’t have any.”

“You’re kidding!” Emma blurted out before thinking.

He gave her a quizzical look. “Why does that surprise you?”

“I just…you…honestly, you don’t look like someone who would have trouble finding a date.”

“Neither do you, lass.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly realizing she wasn’t wearing a coat. “Look, I feel really bad for causing you to fall. Won’t you please come in so I can get you an ice pack and ibuprofen?”

He hesitated, his hands moving to his lower back again. “Perhaps that would be a good idea, if you truly don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t make the offer if I did. Come on in.” She turned and led the way through the snow to her house, picking up the bag of food once she was inside the door.

The delivery man entered behind her, closed the door, stomped his boots off on the mat, and stood there a bit awkwardly.

Emma set the bag on the coffee table and turned to look at him. “I haven’t even told you my name yet. I’m Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand.

“I’ll be right back,” Emma said. She went into the kitchen, took an ice pack out of the freezer, and wrapped it in a tea towel. Then she got a bottle of water out of the fridge and grabbed the ibuprofen off of the counter. That’s when she had second thoughts about her decision to ask him in. Sure, he was incredibly handsome and seemed very nice, but criminals could be handsome and deceptively nice, too.

Peeking around the corner of the door frame, she saw that he was still standing on the small rug in the entryway, shifting from foot to foot. Surely, if he were inclined to commit some sort of crime, he would have taken advantage of her being out of sight.

She walked back into the living room. “You can take off your coat and sit down, if you like.”

“I don’t want to drip water across your floor.”

Emma pointed to the shoes on her feet. “If I didn’t worry about it, you shouldn’t either. But if it makes you feel better, you can take off your boots and leave them on the rug.”

He toed them off, then unzipped his coat and removed it.

She set the water bottle and ibuprofen on the table beside the sack of food and sat down on the couch, gesturing for him to sit on the other end. Once he did, he shook out a couple of pills from the bottle and took a swig of water. Then she handed him the ice, which he placed on his lower back.

After sitting in silence for several moments, she leaned forward and pulled the food towards herself. “I ordered enough food for several people because I was feeling self-indulgent. Are you hungry?”

“I couldn’t possibly ask you to…”

“You didn’t ask me, I offered. I’ll go get a couple of plates.”

As they ate, they made small talk about mundane subjects.

“Is the ice helping your back?” she asked.

“Aye, a bit. I think I just twisted it when I fell.”

“I’m very glad you didn’t hit your head on the concrete.”

“Me, too.”

“If the ice pack isn’t cold anymore, I’ll get you another one. I have plenty. I have to keep a lot on hand because of my job.”

“Are you a professional kickboxer or something?”

She laughed. “No, but close. I’m a bail bondsperson who doubles as a bounty hunter, when necessary.”

He whistled lowly. “You must be a tough lass. How did you get into that particular profession?”

“It’s a long story.”

“My schedule is pretty clear, but if you aren’t comfortable talking about it with a total stranger…”

“You stopped being a total stranger when you told me your name,” she pointed out.

He grinned and she felt her insides melting at how it made his already handsome face even more gorgeous.

“I’ll tell you on one condition - that you promise not to pity me.”

“Ah, so it’s a story of tragedy.”

She shrugged. “I guess you could say that.”

“In that case, I promise not to pity you. However, if you want, I can reciprocate by sharing my own tragic story.”

“What better way to spend New Year’s Eve than depressing the person we just met?”

“Indeed,” he said, grinning again.

Emma took a deep breath and began telling her story. “I grew up without a family. I don’t know why my parents gave me up at birth, but they did. I was placed in foster care as an infant and stayed with one family for three years. Just as they were initiating adoption proceedings, they found out they were having a baby of ‘their own’.” She framed the last two words with air quotes. “So they decided they didn’t need to adopt me. I was put back into the system and by the time I was seven, I was labeled emotionally troubled.”

“It’s no wonder, after being taken from the only home you ever knew,” Killian commented.

“I know, right? Anyway, I was moved to different foster homes pretty frequently and was never considered for adoption again. I ran away from my last placement when I was sixteen and got caught shoplifting a couple of months later. They sent me to a juvenile detention center that specialized in vocational training. When I took one of those assessments that’s supposed to match your interests to a career, it said I was most suited for a job in law enforcement, which I thought was absolutely ridiculous.”

She paused to take a drink of her soda. “Then this really tough counselor named Cleo took an interest in me and told me I was wasting my potential by being angry at the world. She trained me to be a bail bondsperson and bounty hunter because I flat out refused to go to the police academy.”

“Do you like the job?” he asked.

“It pays the bills. Most of the time, it’s pretty boring, but once in a while I have to do a stakeout or set a honey trap.”

“Honey trap?”

“Set up a fake date with a skip and dress sexy. Once I gain their trust, or their lust, I cuff them and take them in.”

“Ah, I see.”

She dug her fork into the container of pork lo mein and put it in her mouth. After chewing and swallowing, she continued. “Sometimes I wish I went to the academy, instead of being so damn stubborn.”

“It’s not too late,” Killian observed. “Perhaps you could look into it.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ve been thinking about it more often lately.” After taking another swig of pop, she asked, “So what’s your tragic backstory?”

“I moved to America with my mother and brother nine years ago, when I was seventeen. Mum was battling cancer and we found a treatment center that seemed more promising than any place in England.”

“Did the treatment work?”

“In a manner of speaking. It gave us more time with her than we would have had, if we hadn’t moved. Her prognosis was less than two years in England. She outlived that by nearly seven years. We had to be sponsored by her cousin in New Hampshire, since her medical visa expired.”

“Did she pass away recently?”

“Aye. Five months ago.”

Emma reached over to place her hand on top of his. “I’m sorry, Killian.”

He sighed, then tried to force a smile onto his face. “Thank you. My brother, Liam, stayed here for a couple of months after her passing, but then he moved back to England. I remained behind because there are still some things I need to do to settle Mum’s affairs.”

“Will you go back home after you do that?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I’m not sure I think of England as home anymore. Liam is there, but he has a girlfriend, Elsa, whom he met online three years ago. They’ve visited back and forth with each other several times. They’re very serious and are discussing moving in together, so even if I move back, I’ll have to find a flat and a job. I already have a place to live here. We’ve been renting a house in the suburbs since we came over. The landlord is a very kind man who is like family now.”

“Do you have a job? Besides driving for Grubhub, I mean?”

“I work down at the docks, helping to maintain the piers.”

“Do you like it?”

“Aye. I’ve always loved being around the water.”

They both continued eating, before Emma asked another question. “You, um…you didn’t mention a father.”

“He’s not worth mentioning. I was six when he left, so I don’t remember much about him or what happened. Liam was ten and he is pretty sure Da left Mum for someone else. He never sent us any money or attempted to see us.”

“Oh, wow. So your mom had to raise you by herself?”

“Aye, she did, but she never complained or spoke even one harsh word against our father. She said she couldn’t be angry or bitter toward him because he gave her the two greatest treasures of her life.”

“She sounds like a wonderful person.”

“That she was. She deserved so much better.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, thinking about everything they just shared with each other as they finished eating.

Finally, Killian broke the silence. “So tell me, lass. How does it happen that you are home by yourself on New Year’s Eve?”

“I’ve had horrible dates the last three years and I didn’t want to increase the streak to four.”

“Do you mind me asking what made them so horrible?”

She laughed humorlessly. “Three years ago, I was with a guy I had been dating for several months. I thought things were going well all that time. Just before midnight, he proceeded to break up with me, saying he wasn’t happy and felt trapped in our relationship. So while everyone was kissing once the new year arrived, I was by myself, crying in a corner of the room.”

“What a complete arse,” Killian commented, an angry edge to his voice.

“Yeah, he really was. I didn’t date again for nearly a year, until my friend Mary Margaret set me up with the owner of a furniture store where she bought a bedroom set. New Year’s Eve was our third date. He was polite, easy to talk to, and wasn’t aggressive. He never even tried to hold my hand or give me a kiss on our dates.”

“Sounds like a perfect gentleman who was letting you set the pace.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

“What happened?”

“About halfway through the night, he disappeared. We were all at our friend Regina’s house, and when I started asking people if they had seen him, everyone said they hadn’t. It was a pretty big party with close to forty people, so it took me a while to finally realize he wasn’t anywhere to be found downstairs. That’s when I decided to check the bedrooms upstairs.”

“Oh, no. Don’t tell me you found him with another woman.”

“Well, I did find him…but not with another woman.”

“Who was he…” Killian began, then realization set in. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope, not kidding. That explained why he wasn’t in any hurry to show me any kind of affection.”

“Wow,” he commented simply. “I wonder why he agreed to go out with a woman in the first place, if that was his inclination.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t stick around to find out. I still haven’t let Mary Margaret hear the end of it, and if she even hints that she wants to set me up with someone…”

“I’m sure you shut that down very quickly.”

“Yep. Which brings us to last year.”

“I can’t imagine it being much worse than the previous two.”

“It wasn’t, but it was still bad. This time, my friend Ruby set me up with a guy she knew. I should have known better, because Ruby is a bit off-the-wall. I mean, I love her, but she is very quirky. Anyway, this guy shows up wearing an orange top hat.”

Killian started laughing. “Did he have the matching tuxedo? Perhaps he was a big fan of Dumb and Dumber.”

Emma joined in the laughter. “No orange tux, but he definitely would have fit right into that movie. We were at Regina’s again and he found out she had a sewing machine and a basket full of material. He spent a couple of hours sewing the scraps together to make this sort of shawl thing. Then he brought it out to the party and performed some sort of dance with it, waving it around like he was a bullfighter. It was the most bizarre thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

“I take it you won’t let Ruby try to set you up, either?”

“You got that right.”

“I can certainly understand your reluctance to have another New Year’s date.”

“Which is why I’m home by myself, indulging in copious amounts of Chinese food and binge watching The Great British Baking Show.”

“Is the new season out?” he asked with a note of excitement.

“Yeah, it’s been out for a couple of months but I don’t like to watch it one episode at a time. I hate having to wait a whole week.”

“I can understand that.”

“You like that show, too, I take it?”

“Aye. It was one of Mum’s favorites and we always watched it together. I won’t get to see it this year, though. I’ve been canceling some subscriptions, and Netflix was one of them.”

Emma opened her mouth to tell him he could stay and watch it with her, but before the words came out, she had second thoughts. She didn’t want to give him the idea that she was coming on to him.

As she watched him putting another spoonful of fried rice on his plate, she began debating with herself. The poor guy hurt his back because of her negligence, but he didn’t have any hard feelings. Having him for company was better than spending the entire evening alone, and she was truly enjoying their conversation. Plus, she told him she would be watching one of his favorite shows, so not inviting him to stay and watch it with her would be rude. Wouldn’t it?

“Swan?” His voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, uh…I was thinking that you could, um…that is, if you want to, you could watch the show with me.”

“I wasn’t fishing for an invitation…”

“I know, and please don’t feel pressured to accept. I just wanted you to know that you’re welcome to stay.”

“That’s very kind of you, Emma, but I don’t want to infringe on your evening.”

“I was looking forward to having a relaxing evening at home instead of dressing up and going out, but I’m okay with you being here. As long as you don’t mind seeing me in my oldest, comfiest sweats.”

“You still look quite fetching,” he grinned. “In all honesty, I was dreading spending the evening by myself, especially since it’s my first New Year’s Eve without Mum. Perhaps slipping on the ice was a fortunate turn of events.”

“Your back may not agree,” she quipped. Plucking the remote from the coffee table, she powered on the television and brought up Netflix. “Make yourself comfortable. My plan was to watch the first three episodes, then make popcorn and hot chocolate. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” he said, following her lead and propping his feet on the coffee table.

“Oh, wait. Before we start, I’ll get you a fresh ice pack,” she said, hopping up and holding out her hand for the melted one.

When she came back, he took the new one from her, commenting, “You’re a very good caregiver, Swan.”

“Thanks, Jones,” she replied with a smirk.

“Apologies. I’m used to referring to my coworkers by their last names.”

“There’s no need to apologize. I have no issue with being called by my last name.”

“It fits you.”

“Thanks. I picked it myself.”

He scrutinized her with a raised brow. “Truly?”

“Yeah. After I ran away, I didn’t want to be tracked down by my last name, so I started calling myself Emma Swan. I had it changed officially once I was older and had enough money to pay for it.”

“How did you come up with Swan?”

“From the Ugly Duckling. I always liked that story and could relate to that poor little duck nobody wanted.”

 “But it transforms into a lovely swan, just like you did.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’m happy I didn’t have to keep the name CPS came up with for me. It never felt right to me.” While she was talking, she was flipping through the options on Netflix to find The Great British Baking Show. Clicking on it, she said, “I haven’t missed a single season of this show. The contestants always astound me with the stuff they bake.”

“Aye, me as well. Are you a baker yourself, Swan?”

“Pfft, far from it. I tried to make a cake once and failed miserably. And it was from a box! Apparently it’s important to read the directions. Who knew?”

Killian laughed. “Perhaps you’ll try again someday.”

“Maybe. In the meantime, I’m going to watch twelve people do amazing things and then get kicked off one by one because what they spent hours baking wasn’t perfect.”

“Do you ever choose a favorite contestant?”

“Every time.”

“Is it ever the eventual champion?”

“Never.”

He laughed again. “Same with me. Mum, on the other hand, had a knack for selecting the person who either won it or at least got into the top three.”

“She must have known a lot about baking.”

“Not really. I think she was just lucky.”

Emma clicked on the episode and they settled in to watch, laughing at the co-hosts and making bets on who would be Star Baker and who would be the first to leave the tent. When Killian was right on both counts, he thrust his arms up in the air, exclaiming, “Yes!”

“You must have inherited your mother’s knack,” Emma observed.

“Perhaps she was whispering in my ear,” he said, a slightly sad smile on his face.

She reached over to pat him on the knee. “She probably was.”

Before they started the next episode, Killian asked, “Would you please direct me to your bathroom?”

“Sure.” She turned in her seat and pointed behind them. “Down the hall, first door on the left.”

“Thank you,” he said, standing and stretching.

As he twisted at the waist, Emma asked, “How does your back feel?”

“Not bad. I think the ice packs and ibuprofen helped.”

“Good.”

She watched him leave the room, then took the ice pack to return it to the freezer. After that, she cleared off the coffee table, putting the leftover food in the refrigerator and the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.

When she returned, Killian was once again sitting on the sofa, looking at his phone. He didn’t seem to notice that she re-entered the room, so she took a few moments to study him. Now that she had a chance to get to know him a little, she found him even more attractive, because she now knew there was more to him than just a pretty face.

Finally resuming her seat, she picked up the remote again. “Ready for the next episode?”

“Uh, give me a second. I just got a message from Liam. It’s already past midnight there and he’s wishing me a Happy New Year.”

“You can call him if you like. I don’t mind waiting.”

He turned his startling blue eyes on her. “Thanks, I think I will.”

Standing from the couch, she said, “I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Oh, there’s no need. I don’t mind if you overhear our conversation. Actually, I think I’ll Facetime him instead. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen his ugly mug.”

She giggled. “Spoken like a true brother.”

Grinning, he put the call through. While he was greeting his brother, Emma busied herself with checking her own phone, responding to messages from Mary Margaret and Ruby, received while she was watching the show.

“Say hi to my brother, Swan.”

Glancing up, she was surprised to see him holding his phone up to her. A man with similar facial features as Killian, but with lighter, curly hair was on the screen, smiling at her. “Hello, lass.”

“Oh, uh…hi. Happy New Year,” she responded.

“The same to you. I’m sorry you have to spend it with my git of a brother.”

“Hey!” Killian protested.

Emma laughed. “Inviting him to watch The Great British Baking Show with me was the least I could do after he fell on the ice on my sidewalk. He was delivering my dinner.”

“He said he fell and you took pity on him. I figured it was because of his own clumsiness.”

A female voice came through the phone. “Liam, stop teasing Killian. He was sweet enough to call and you’re being mean.”

The face of the woman speaking came into view on the screen. Emma saw she was beautiful, with almost white-blonde hair and large, expressive eyes. “Hello. You must be Elsa.”

“Yes, that’s me. Forgive me, but I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m Emma Swan. It’s very nice meeting you, and you too, Liam.”

“The pleasure is ours, lass,” Liam said. “All kidding aside, we’re very happy Killian isn’t alone this evening. I was afraid he was sitting around the house moping.”

“He’s been very good company,” she assured him.

Killian scooted closer to her so they could both be on the screen. “We should let you get back to your party,” he said.

“Yes, I’m sure Anna will come looking for us soon,” Elsa said.

“Thank you for calling, little brother,” Liam added. “We miss you.”

“I miss you, too, but I do not miss being called little brother. I’m younger.”

“And two inches shorter, so technically you’re little, also.”

Before Killian could reply, Elsa cut in, “That’s enough, boys. Emma will think all the two of you ever do is argue.”

Emma laughed as Killian said, “Happy New Year, you two. I’ll talk to you again soon. Love you.”

“We love you, too. I hope this new year will be a better one for both of us,” Liam responded.

Killian glanced at Emma. “I think it’s getting off to a pretty good start.”

She listened to them finish their goodbyes, a little surprised that his statement didn’t make her uncomfortable. In fact, she felt the exact same way.

*********

They were halfway through the sixth episode when Killian checked the time on his phone. “It’s eleven fifty seven,” he announced.

“Oh!” Emma said, pushing her empty mug and popcorn bowl out of the way to find the remote. “Would you like to watch the ball drop?”

“Sure.”

She quickly exited Netflix and searched for a channel covering the party in Times Square. As they watched the raucous scene, she commented, “I would hate to be in that crowd.”

“Aye, me too. I much prefer being in a quiet place.”

The ball began to drop. When it reached ten seconds to go, the two of them counted along with the mob of people on screen. It hit zero, lighting up the year ‘2024’, then it switched to another camera showing people in the crowd sharing kisses.

Emma glanced at Killian out of the corner of her eye. At the same time, he took his eyes off the television and looked at her. “Happy New Year, Emma,” he said quietly.

“Happy New Year, Killian.” Her eyes flicked down to his lips, lingering for a second before traveling back up again. Then, without conscious thought, she leaned toward him.

The touch of his lips against hers sent a shiver of delight through her. The kiss was brief and left her wanting more, but she pulled back before she could act on that impulse.

Neither of them spoke for several moments. Finally, Killian broke the silence. “Um…perhaps we should finish the episode, then I need to be going.”

“Oh, right,” she said, bringing Netflix back up. They watched the remainder of the show without talking, both preoccupied with thoughts of the kiss they just shared.

As soon as the episode ended, Killian stood up. Emma flicked off the television and stood, too, shifting back and forth on her stockinged feet.

He cleared his throat, scratching behind his ear. “I, um…I thoroughly enjoyed this evening - except for falling on my arse, that is.”

She chuckled. “I apologize again, but I have to say I’m not sorry it led to you keeping me company tonight. It was nice having someone to watch the show with and discuss it.”

“Thank you for inviting me to join you. It brought back good memories of watching it with my mother. I needed that tonight.”

They stood looking at each other for several more moments, then he moved to put on his boots and coat. She walked to the door, ready to open it for him. “Be careful going home. There will probably be some people driving who shouldn’t be on the road.”

He zipped his coat and tugged a blue knit cap out of the pocket, pulling it on over his dark hair. Emma found the addition utterly adorable.

“Well, I guess I’ll be on my way,” he said, stepping toward the door.

“Killian…” she began, then paused. He looked at her expectantly. “I, um, I hate to think that you won’t get to see the rest of the new season. Would you like to come over sometime to watch the rest of the episodes?”

A smile slowly spread across his face. “I would like that very much.”

*********

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out with Mary Margaret and David this evening, Love?” Killian called from the living room.

“I’m sure,” Emma said, coming through the doorway dressed in her oldest sweats, the same ones she wore exactly one year ago. Sitting down beside him on the sofa, she added, “I’m content staying home, doing the same thing I did last year.”

“You mean practically maiming the Grubhub delivery man on your icy sidewalk?”

“Why not? It worked out pretty well for me last year,” she teased, snuggling into his side.

“It’s unfortunate for you I salted the sidewalk, then,” he responded.

“That’s okay. One former delivery driver is more than enough for me.”

“More than enough, huh?” he smirked. “Are you saying I give you more than you can handle, Swan?”

Elbowing him lightly in the side, she said, “Keep it up and when your big brother calls, I’m going to tell him you’re being insufferable.”

“Older brother,” he automatically corrected. “And don’t you dare. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Then behave,” she said, reaching for her phone on the coffee table. “I’m gonna put in our order. Same as last year?

“Works for me, but this time, I call dibs on the pork lo mein.”

She furrowed her brow at him. “Nobody messes with my pork lo mein and lives to tell about it.”

“Have they been teaching you intimidation techniques at the police academy?” he asked, trying to contain his mirth.

She glared at him a few seconds longer, then turned her attention back to her phone, saying, “I’ll put in a double order for it.”

“Grand idea, Love. I’m going to change into my own comfy clothes.”

She watched him leave the room, headed toward their bedroom, then finished placing their food order. While she was waiting for him to come back, she reflected on the past year. It was, by far, the best year of her life. She met Killian, fell in love and eventually asked him to move in with her. For their eight month anniversary, he took her on a trip to England to meet his brother and future sister-in-law. He also encouraged her to pursue her dream of enrolling in the police academy, where she was set to graduate in a little over a month.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Emma blinked and looked up at her love, amazed as always that he was hers.

Grabbing his hand in both of hers, she pulled him down beside her and climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I was just thinking about everything that happened since last New Year’s Eve.”

He tightened his grip on her, running his nose along the slope of her throat. “A lot has happened, all of it good,” he murmured.

“Well, most of it. There was the day I got a flat tire and the time you came down with the flu.”

His low chuckle sounded in her ear, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. “I was able to show you how to change the tire, and you nursed me back to health, so it all turned out good in the end.”

Placing her hands on both sides of his face, she put enough distance between them to be able to look into his brilliant blue eyes. “You made it the best year ever. I love you, Killian.”

“I believe we made it the best year ever, Sweetheart,” he corrected. “I love you, Emma.”

They shared a long, languid kiss that turned into many more, until they were interrupted by the food delivery. As they ate, they began watching the brand new season of The Great British Baking Show, pausing it to call Elsa and Liam at seven o’clock, which was midnight in the UK. Five hours later, they paused it again to ring in the New Year themselves. This time, their kiss wasn’t tentative like the year before, and they continued the celebration in their bedroom.

As they lay together, sated and blissfully happy, Emma whispered, “I wonder what 2025 has in store for us? It surely can’t be better than 2024.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Killian answered, thinking about the contents of a small, black velvet box, hidden in a pair of seldom worn boots, tucked away in the back corner of the closet.

*********

Thank you for reading, leaving comments, liking and reblogging, if you're so inclined. Every one is very much appreciated!

Tagging:

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@hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper

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@beckettj @killihan-jones

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "The Belle Dame Emma"

This short MC fic was my @cssns21 entry, and I tried my hand at a fae version of Emma and a knight version of Killian with it. It took a fair amount of inspiration from the classic Keats poem "La Belle Dame sans Merci", the lines at beginning and end of the chapters are from the poem, as well as from my desire to explore the Dark Swan idea from a different angle, with more of Emma's fighting back against those tendencies as we saw at first. At any rate, as I am going back through my @cssns contributions, I was excited to find this one next. I hope you will enjoy this if you didn't see it back then, and even if you did, maybe you will enjoy it again...

Summary: Legend has it that the fae woman in the meadow will ensnare any who dare enter her domain, but the knight who chances a meeting can tell there is more to the story than superstition and gossip has allowed. The path to the truth and redemption may be fraught with dangers - to the both of them - but is it not the sworn duty of a true knight to help any who may be in need?

**Thanks a million once more to @caught-in-the-filter who made the gorgeous cover art for this fic! I absolutely love it! **

{Also available on AO3, if that is your preference}

by: @snowbellewells

Part One

I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful - a faery’s child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

Some folks say that she was always malevolent. Born to beguile and lure the unworthy to their doom. The fae, after all, were not to be trifled with, and those who dared do so learned their lesson at high cost.

The whispers around the fog-wisped edges of her meadow haunt, the word spoken as warning with anxious glances over the shoulder, was that her beauty was matched only by her fury. That she was possessed with a thirst to punish those who would be lured by her fair form and bewitching song. Those who were wise came to skirt wide around those fallow fields in that sparsely populated corner of the kingdom, for it was said that even those of stoutest resolve and pure intentions found this powerful nymph - be it by her face alone or some magic she wielded to draw them into her web - nigh impossible to resist.

Some retellings of her legend had her thrown from the sparkling court of the fair folk for her cruel and deviant nature. Others claimed she possessed more power and magic than any single faery had before her, and it had simply been too much - bending her better nature into madness. Still other storytellers would paint her more as a tragic sacrifice. The Fae Folk must have one who punished those unworthy of their own kind, as well as the humans who got too close to discovering their kingdom’s gates or who would dare to upset the fragile balance of peace between the two species - who might dare to think themselves equal to, and attempt to win the heart of, a faery. She was simply the one chosen to mete out these judgements. A Guardian and a Gatekeeper, as it were.

And though there is often a grain of truth to any rumor, very rarely do such stories paint their characters as they truly are. Not in full. And the ballad of awe and fear told of the beautiful, but deadly, lady Emma - La Belle Dame Sans Merci - was just such a tale. The whispers bore fragments of reality, but could not explain it all. Though she was not blameless, she was not completely lost. Perhaps there only needed to be some small spark of light, some reason for her to look within for any shred of mercy she might still possess.

~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~

The wind rushed across his forehead, lifting the strands of his dark hair from his heated skin pleasantly and ruffling his steed’s mane before dancing on to bend the grasses along the quiet roadside and tug at the leaves on nearby trees. It was a pleasant morning to be about, though the way seemed strangely untraveled since his turn-off at the last crossroad. Killian Jones, knight-at-arms, found he didn’t truly mind the peacefulness and lack of fellow travelers, enjoying the sounds of breeze and birdsong and mulling his own thoughts. Though adventure, daring battle, and quests of honor made his blood pound with vigor, causing excitement to tingle in his nerve endings and a sense of fulfillment in being where he was needed and doing what he must flooded his being, he could admit if only to himself on this placid afternoon, that he sometimes still wondered if there was more.

He certainly did not wish to change his profession. He would never be happy as a blacksmith, farmer, or tradesman; anything so mundane, necessary as those roles were, would never satisfy him for long. And yet, he had begun to feel the weight of many battles, the lives he had held in his hands, and the blood he could sometimes still see behind closed eyelids, had begun to haunt him. If there was always another fight, another enemy to vanquish, more violence and death and Darkness, were they making any difference? Was a glimmer of the light they fought for shining through, or were they merely treading water, waiting to be subsumed?

It was what had brought him to this quiet roadside meadow alone, rather than back on the high road with his fellows, moving on to the next castle and the next foe they needed to vanquish. He had called out that he would rejoin them further down the road; it was not unusual for one of them to split off on some personal venture from time to time. It was a life of constant movement, never truly being at ease or settling anywhere, and yet it made sense that sometimes one would need to pause, linger, and think for a moment where it was still and inviting enough to do so.

Killian knew he had traveled in this corner of the kingdom before - though it had been some time back. He did not remember the way this road had curved and twined, becoming narrowed and more removed from the larger surroundings as it followed a trickling brook along its way. The sounds of the village some miles back now, of other travelers whom he had not seen for some time, even the rustling of leaves and grasses and the twittering of the birds seemed to fade. A stillness encircled him such as he had never experienced before. It might have been unnerving if he had not been seeking quiet and peace to think, answers for the questions that troubled him. His mount danced fitfully on occasion, tossing his shaggy black head as if ill at ease, but Killian found he was too entranced, too breathlessly curious to turn back now. Plus, Shadow was a spirited animal and his fitfulness did not truly alarm his rider. There was a reason only Killian seemed able to handle him. 

The brooke, and the path following it, both turned again sharply, and Killian ducked to ride under the low-hanging branch of a tree, and when he sat back up in his saddle once more, the sight around that bend brought him up short. The creek came to a stop at last, running into a still pond, dark and motionless, and on the far side of the pond was some sort of cave, its mouth wide open as if beckoning those brave enough to explore. Flowers grew strewn through tall grasses, and all of it was waving soundlessly in the breeze like a beckoning sea.

Again, Killian found he was almost mystified by his own impulse to dismount and come closer. To seek out every secret corner of this meadow hideaway. He knew well enough not to venture into dark and unknown caves and underground passages, and yet the pull was nigh irresistible. He stood in wonderment, taking it all in as he stroked Shadow’s nose, soothing the restless gelding.

“What is it, lad?” Killian murmured to his horse, scratching behind its ears and trying to keep a firm grip on the reins as the creature continued to shuffle and toss its head.

Suddenly, the knight sensed he and his steed were no longer alone, a strong scent of apple blossoms and sweet honey stirred on the breeze and a chill ran over his skin, making the small hairs on his arms stand on end.

A dulcet, hypnotic voice spoke on the horse’s other side, a delicate feminine hand stroking over the animal’s nose caused Shadow to calm instantly. “Perhaps,” it offered subtly, “he knows something you do not.”

Killian had never known Shadow to gentle for anyone else; the creature rarely grew that still even for him, and the chill which had run through him a moment before now shivered down his spine. “And what might that be?” he questioned stoutly, not allowing any of his trepidation to show in his tone. “And who are you and what might you know of it?”

A form so fair, so ethereally bright and beautiful that he knew immediately she must be more than human, stepped into view from the other side of his horse. Long, glowing golden hair hung to her waist, twined with buttercups and bluebells, her feet were bare and gracefully shaped, her eyes a verdant green he wanted to fall into like a thick carpet of clover and grass, and the slight tilt of her voluptuously shaped pale pink lips somehow seemed to hint she already knew she had entranced him. The lady who had materialized there in the meadow at his side was breathtaking; her smile serene and inviting, her voice low and melodic, drawing him to lean in closer to hear what she would say next.

“Do you not hear strange tales of this place, warning travelers to be on their guard?” she tilted her head slightly, studying him as if bemused.

“I am a knight of the Realm, milady,” he replied, “Sworn to go where others may fear to tread, to protect the helpless and vanquish dangers wherever they might be. Seldom am I in one place long enough to hear all the local legends and superstitions, but even so, I would not let such talk turn me from my duty.”

That pale, lovely face continued to meet his own gaze head-on, not doubting, but merely watching as if weighing his response and gauging the sincerity of his words. Humming lightly to herself, she stepped away from him and Shadow, turning towards the pond’s smooth surface, almost as if taking for granted that he would follow.

Killian found to his chagrin that he had blindly followed two strides in her wake before realizing he had done so. Glancing back over her shoulder with arched brow and genuine question in her tone she asked, “Your duty brought you here then?”

Dipping his chin slightly toward the metal armor that covered his chest, Killian offered her a slight show of respect. He was not sure just where he had wandered, if he was trespassing on some royal land and this was some trick to ensnare him in wrongdoing, if he had wandered into some sort of enchanted space and she was a siren risen from the depths, or perhaps she was their next evil wizard or monster to fight, taking on a disguise of fair form to spy upon them and learn their weaknesses. As much as he felt a pull toward her and wanted to stay there speaking with her, there was at the same time a warring sense of unease in his being. The day was wearing on, he had yet to make arrangements for the night, and he had given his word to find his fellows once more as well.

“That I do not yet know,” he finally replied. “I broke off from a larger company at the last bend in the road. This meadow was so peaceful and inviting, and I suppose curiosity led me further as much as anything.”

For a time neither spoke, and Killian noticed for the first time that all other sounds had ceased as well. The rustling of the leaves and grasses, the birdsong and the plash of the brook into the larger pool were all muted; every bit of their surroundings gone strangely still. He knew it impossible, but for a moment it seemed as if he were frozen in a still life, unmoving, unblinking, like a statue carved in stone.

The beautiful vision stared into the water silently, so long and so deeply he wondered if she had forgotten his presence. Killian did not know whether to address her further or to turn and go, nor was he certain that his feet would move to turn from her if he did attempt to leave.

As eerily still as all was around him, he felt more concern in that instant that he had upset her, troubled or disturbed her somehow with his presence or his answers to her questions. Urging Shadow forward, he came to stand beside the mysterious lady once more, reaching out a hand meant to soothe or comfort.

But before he could make contact she whirled to meet him, her face a mask of pained struggle, her eyes wide and alarmed and so much darker than the jeweled green they had been before. Her voice was harsher, rough as she screeched for him to stand back, to get away from there. He didn’t understand the transformation, but he could see she was nearly vibrating with tension, trembling as if some force wanted to burst from her and she could scarcely hold it back. What had been a gentle breeze now howled about them, and the still pond was whipped into choppy waves. Killian stumbled back, dumbstruck, uncertain what was happening.

The idyllic beauty of his surroundings and the pleasant stranger before him had been changed instantaneously. None of the calm tranquility or gentle smiles which had lured him further in lingered now, and the enthralling vision before him now radiated tension and warning, her voice still rasping as if dragged over glass, saying that he must flee, she could only hold back so long.

Nearly as confused as he was alarmed or frightened, Killian shook his head, anxious to clear it of the doubt swirling through - had he imagined everything before? Or was he imagining things now? The anguish on that fair brow was enough to send him away for the moment, the pale maiden well on her way to enchanting him looked stretched to her limits, beseeching him to leave while he was still able. The chilvalrous knight he was fought against leaving such a one in pain or distress, but he also knew that he did not understand the situation, did not know all that was needed to act wisely.

And so, reluctantly, he swung up into Shadow’s saddle, his steed at least feeling no qualms about leaving. The beast tossed his head and wheeled to gallop off at the first mere prodding, hide quivering as he carried his rider back the way they had come in haste.

Killian, for his part, felt compelled to look back. For a moment, he could still see her form, curling in on herself slightly as she seemed to double over, and growing ever smaller in his view. The whole vista seemed to waver, partially obscured by a rising haze, until he could not have pointed out exactly where it had been.

Soon after, Shadow had carried them back to the main road, and Killian urged him to turn back onto it, to once more find his fellows, quite possibly in the next small village. Yet, though he appeared safely back on course, Killian could not forget what he had seen and heard… haunted by the face of the troubled maiden.

~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~

The faery, Emma, sagged in relief as the knight finally rode from view. She was breathlessly grateful for the mist which rose up from the surface of the pool, and the very air itself, now heavy and charged and hiding her from view, where before it had been so fresh and light with Spring. No wonder the man had been drawn to the small oasis. With the flowers and cool breeze and sparkling waters, her hidden grotto was made to be inviting, dangerously appealing. As was she herself - in form and face - or so she had been told when the curse was placed upon her.

Sinking to her knees in the tall grass, the thin blades and the faces of the daisies both brushed her skin if trying to offer comfort, Emma panted rapidly in effort to regain her breath. She had managed to hold it back, the dark power which had been twined with the natural light fae magic inside her. Her song, once capable of brightening skies, coaxing plants to blossom, and raising spirits that were broken or bowed, now would ensnare and entwine those same lost souls who might cross her path, draining them and never allowing them to leave.

One solitary tear slipped down her cheek as her breathing calmed and she contemplated the change wrought upon her being against her will. It kept her even from her own kind; loved ones who might ease the hurt and loneliness. For she did not know for certain if they were immune to the strange siren call she had been infected with, and she could not bear to risk such folly. It was horrifying enough to have almost trapped and harmed the handsome stranger who had stumbled upon her hideaway, but she would not surve being the death of one she loved.

Sadly, Emma finally managed to stand again, making her way slowly back to the mouth of the cavern where she spent so much of her time hidden away from the trees and flowers, the sunshine and fair breezes and springtime that she loved for fear of her curse withering it all and destroying others who wandered near, appreciating the same beauty of which she had once been the caretaker. Folly it had been to venture out today, and yet she had been unable to help herself, needing to see and smell and touch the bounty she had been denied. Then it had seemed the knight had just appeared.

Those eyes… a new sort of pang in her heart twinged at the reflection. They had been so blue, searching and deep, as pristine and sparkling as the waters before her and seeking to understand as if he sensed her pain. What an idea! Emma shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the frail hope. That could lead nowhere but disaster for the both of them. A proud, strong young life cut down for no reason if he did return. She was not sure exactly how her powers would snare him in thrall, drain him of life, only that the dark and twisted caster had proclaimed it would be so. She had managed to hold the welling of destructive energy she could feel rising within herself until the man had gone. And normally she managed to stay hidden well enough, removed from all others, that she did not chance unleashing it.

What had drawn her to this one? Caused her to show herself? Why had it almost seemed as if the knight could sense something was wrong? She did not know, and it troubled her, but there was no one to ask for advice. Quite possibly no answers to be had at all. She knew no other faery who had been punished in such a manner.

Turning to slink back into her cavern, Emma’s shoulders slumped. She certainly couldn’t risk being seen again this day; her strength was far too diminished to fight the poison surging to escape if any other hapless being discovered her. Such a horrible, unending punishment, for an unknowing, well-intended mistake, her spirit railed fruitlessly once again. How could she have known that bestowing her innocent heart in love would bring her here?

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @anmylica @xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl

@spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @stahlop

@xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @kday426 @superchocovian @jonesfandomfanatic

@motherkatereloyshipper @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @lfh1226-linda @linda8084

@winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @myfearless-love @undercaffinatednightmare

@belovedcreation @ultraluckycatnd @drowned-dreamer @ineffablecolors @goforlaunchcee

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

CS Winter Bingo--Square 3 (holiday decorating): A Match Faked for Christmas, ch. 2

Hi there and happy holiday season!  In an attempt to continue procrastinating my season 4 rewatch drabbles–and to not feel guilty about it–I decided to participate in the CS Winter Bingo event.  I received nine winter/holiday related prompts arranged in a square like a bingo card.  My mission is to make a bingo by writing at least three of my prompts before winter is over, but I’m hoping to do better than that!  I’m hoping to finish all nine!  Given the nature of the event, you can expect a lot of fluff (but then what else would you expect from me, after all?)  I’m hoping to keep them short as well, but I’m usually not nearly as successful at that.  And without further ado, let’s play CS Winter Bingo!

Rating: G

Word count: 1391

Today’s prompt: Fake Dating: Holiday Edition

Other chapters: (1) (2) (4) (5) (6)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A Match Faked for Christmas–Chapter 2

Killian had expected to spend a rather lonely and boring holiday season.  His brother, his last remaining family, had passed unexpectedly more than five years ago now, and his former girlfriend, Milah, had left him earlier that summer for another man.  (It was the sting of that rejection, in fact, that had led him to relocate to Storybrooke several months ago.)

The result was that he expected to have no one with which to spend the festive season.  Oh, he’d received an invitation to the Christmas party the Nolan’s were hosting on Christmas Eve, but he wasn’t even sure he planned to accept.  There was something supremely depressing about attending a party with a group of happy people when one was not similarly happy.

What he hadn’t expected was Emma Swan.

He’d noticed his next-door neighbor from the moment he moved in next to her.  She was gorgeous, of course, but it was more than that.  There was an undeniable spark, an undeniable attraction far beyond what he would normally feel for a beautiful woman he was just meeting.  He hadn’t felt anything like this at least since the moment he met Milah–maybe not even then.

Belonging.  He felt like they belonged together, as ridiculous as that sounded.

He’d tested the waters upon first meeting her, flirting, showing interest, making it abundantly clear that should she be amenable, he’d love to explore the connection between the two of them.

But she’d made it equally–and rather frostily–clear that she had no interest in his attentions, and so he’d backed off.

When the first cheesy, homemade Christmas card arrived, at first he’d wondered if he’d misjudged the situation.  Perhaps it wasn’t that she’d summarily rejected him.  Perhaps she was simply reserved or shy.  When the second, third and fourth arrived, he’d become suspicious, and when the fifth arrived just as Mary Margaret Nolan went past on her nightly walk with the Nolan’s dog Wilby, he was certain his suspicions had merit.

“Anything interesting in the mail today?” she asked casually–far too casually–as she stopped beside his home.

Oh yes, his instincts were certainly correct.  The handmade cards were far more the bubbly Mary Margaret’s style than the aloof Emma Swan’s.

When the final card arrived, with its overly sappy, romantic sentiment, he knew it was time to discuss the matter with Emma herself.

He didn’t know what he’d expected from the conversation, but one thing was for certain.  He hadn’t expected to return to his home with the new-found title of Fake Boyfriend.

He couldn’t say he was upset with the arrangement.  Being Emma’s boyfriend–even if the relationship was a sham–would necessitate they spend time together, wouldn’t it?  Perhaps the time together and the shared deception would soften the lovely Miss Swan’s heart.  Stranger things had happened, particularly at this magical time of year.

And so it was the day after their bargain was struck, that Killian found himself ambling over to Emma’s door, two steaming mugs of cocoa in hand.

It took her some time to come to the door–so long, in fact that Killian was on the point of leaving–and when she did, it was abundantly clear, he’d woken her.  Her hair was a riotous tumble around her shoulders, she wore plaid pajamas and big fuzzy slippers.  Her eyes were barely open.

Even just rolling out of bed like this, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Killian, what the hell are you doing knocking on my door this damn early on a Saturday morning?” she asked, arms crossed angrily in front of her.

“Early?” he asked, breezing past her into her home, “Swan, it’s 10:30 am.”

“On a Saturday,” she reiterated grumpily.

“I apologize for waking you,” he said, holding out one of the styrofoam cups to her. “I come with a peace offering.”

She took the cup without a word, one eyebrow going up as she peered up at him.  Finally she brought it to her lips and took a swig.  “Hot cocoa,” she said appreciatively, cupping her hands around the warm beverage.  “And you added cinnamon! How did you know to add cinnamon?”

He shrugged.  “Took a chance, love,” he said.  “I like it that way, I thought perhaps you might too.”

She took another long sip, humming appreciatively, the sound so primal, it sent a bolt of longing straight through him.  “Well your chance paid off.  Since you plied me with cocoa, I’m feeling significantly less homicidal about you waking me.”

He chuckled. “Glad to hear it.”

“So why are you here,” she asked after a moment.

“Keeping up appearances,” he said cheerfully.  “After all, if we’re to make Mary Margaret Nolan believe that we are in a relationship, we really should spend some time together.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she said softly, almost under her breath.  “So what exactly did you have in mind for us to do to keep up appearances.  What should we do to convince the nosy neighbors that we’re an item?”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned mischievously in response, and she chuckled.  “Whatever it is you’re thinking, no.”

He put a dramatic hand to his chest.  “You cut me to the heart, Swan.”

Her chuckle turned to a full blown laugh at that and she playfully swatted his arm.  “You are an idiot.”

He merely grinned–like an idiot–in response.

“So let me rephrase,” she said after a moment.  “What do you have in mind that doesn’t put a look like THAT on your face?”

Killian looked around her sparsely furnished apartment.  “Swan, it’s a week until Christmas and you haven’t got a single decoration up, so I propose that be our couple mission for the day.  We must get you a tree and make this place festive!”

For a long moment he thought she was going to refuse, but finally she nodded.  “Fine, as long as you help me take it down when the season’s over.  Give me few minutes to make myself presentable.”

“You look beautiful already,” he said simply, and his grin grew when her cheeks pinkened at the compliment, “but as to your terms I accept.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That evening, David Nolan found his wife standing in front of their front window, peering intently across the street.  He chuckled, as he put an arm around her waist.  “You know Mary Margaret, I suspect our neighbors would be none too pleased to know the extent to which you spy on them.”

She turned and gave him a quick kiss before returning her focus to Emma Swan’s home. “They’ll get over it,” she said.  “David, look how well our plan is working!  They’ve spent the whole day together.  Look how happy they are!”

David dutifully looked in the direction his wife was pointing, and had to admit the couple in question did look like they were enjoying their time together.  They’d put a large, full Christmas tree in front of the picture window and had trimmed it with lights, garland, ornaments, talking and laughing as they did so.  Now nearly finished with their task, Emma stepped up on a ladder to place the star on the top.  The angle was awkward, and she leaned precariously, finally placing the topper just right….before windmilling her arms, losing her balance, and falling directly into Killian’s arms down below.

Mary Margaret actually cackled, clapping her hands in delight at that display.  “Just look at them!” she said triumphantly.  The two across the street stood still for a long moment–Emma in Killian’s arms, both looking into each other’s eyes in surprise and perhaps something more.  “At this rate they’ll be engaged by New Years!”

“I wouldn’t bet against you and your matchmaking skills, honey,” he said with a laugh.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes: Well, I didn’t manage to include nearly as many cheesy Hallmark movie tropes as I would have liked into this chapter, but I managed to include hot cocoa and “one character falling and the other catching them before staring into each other’s eyes”, lol.

Something tells me this “fake” relationship might not be shaping up to be quite as fake as Emma thinks it is!

Up next: caroling!

NEXT CHAPTER->

[writingmochi]

come in alone | a visualizer and a teaser

cast: drummer!jake ✗ videographer!fem.reader

synopsis: all jaeyun felt behind his drum kit is pride as his band ends another concert of the tour. then, his mind trails back towards you once again, the videographer recording their performance from the sidelines: the one he always ends his nights with. but when a short break before the last tour stop results in you trembling in his arms; your presence slowly dwindles away from him, making him wrestle with his feelings for you.

genre: coming of age, drama, romance, rock band au, musician on tour au, friends with benefits au, very angsty, fluff, mature content (explicit smut, traumatic experience), set in the same universe as my txt's soobin fic subterranean homesick alien

based on: music my bloody valentine's "come in alone" (1991)

word count: 327 (projected to be around 10k and above)

taglist? drop a comment/reblog or send an ask!

release: out now!

part of the loveless anthology

the air is electric as the spotlight shines on him. the sweat sticking onto his body frames his arm muscles as they move in front of him. the click track in one side of his ear as he gazes at the front. his friends were all in the zone as they all stood at the front of the stage—standing on top of them. his left arm was shining and showing his full sleeve tattoo while playing the snare drum. his right hand was counting on the hi-hats as he had to adjust his rhythm. nicholas, who is standing closest to him, moves his bass melody around his rhythm, following the down beat from his kick bass. while euijoo and jongseong play their guitar melodies interchangeably, making the sound of his crashes and tom-toms an anchor for them to follow.

behind the drum kit, jaeyun feels at home.

his vision continues looking at the crowd, their hands in the air. the spotlights shining on their faces as he could see himself in that crowd, watching his favourite band as they create music live that sounds even better than their studio counterpart. then, he trails his eyes towards the front of the barricade where security guards stood. and, there is also someone holding a camera, recording their audience having fun as the figure walks in front of the stage.

the people who noticed smiles and sing towards the camera as the figure walks to the other end of the stage before turning around, letting the lens capture the band's performance as the light shines perfectly on the face behind it. you.

you hold the camera still with your hands, eyeing from the viewfinder to capture the right scene before you of the band performing their hearts out, to then the stage where his eyes find yours; a smile forming on your face when he can also feel the electricity of the music combine with the one coming from you.

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© writingmochi on tumblr, 2021-2025. all rights reserved

[snowbellewells]

@kmomof4 I'm so glad you liked the cover art! I can't do fancy manips or anything, but I loved this story and wanted to give it a try.

And if you're seeing this out there in fandom world and haven't started this story yet - what a fun weekend read for you!!! Don't miss out!!

A Wedding to Remember Ch. 4 Like Lightning from Heaven... Again

We are back, and before we get to the new chapter, I have to share some GORGEOUS artwork @snowbellewells made for the fic!!! I have heart eyes sooooo hard!!! 😍😍😍

Isn't it so beautiful???!!! Please go give her all the love!!!

And now on to today's chapter! I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Killian Jones, younger brother to the viscount, is home from Cambridge and ready to enter society, including finding himself a wife. Perhaps he may find his future bride here, at a weeklong house party his sister-in-law is hosting at the Jones country estate before the London season officially begins.

Rating: M (smut)

Words: Almost 1500 of approximately 16k

Tags: Bridgerton Inspired Fic, Matchmaking, Regency Romance

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Chapter

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

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@laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter

@ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic

@elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90

@suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites @myfearless-love

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 4 Like Lightning From Heaven… Again

“Are you listening to me? Emma?” David asked. 

“Huh?” she queried, shaking her head slightly. “Yes. I’m sorry, please continue.”

“I know that Uncle Spencer arranged the betrothal with Earl Gold a decade ago, but he’s dying, and since you are now of age, Lord Cassidy arrived yesterday, betrothal contract in hand.” He paused a moment before continuing, and Emma closed her eyes and placed a hand on her rolling stomach. “You’re to be married in two weeks.” 

Emma was speechless. Completely unable to utter a single word in acceptance or repudiation. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.

“So what does that mean for me?” she asked, ignoring his question completely. “Today. Here and now?”

Emma opened her eyes and caught David loosening his cravat in discomfort, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“It means you’ll not be debuting,” he said. “You’ll be returning to London with me tomorrow morning, but you’ll forego the social engagements of the season until after the wedding.”

“Oh, you simply cannot leave tomorrow morning, my Lord,” Viscountess Jones exclaimed as she breezed into the room. Emma gasped in surprise, and David turned shocked eyes to the lady as she approached, her hand outstretched in greeting. “The house party ends tomorrow night with a masquerade ball and everyone will be removing to London the following morning. I would simply hate for Miss Nolan - and you as well, my Lord - to miss the festivities.” She glanced between them both for a moment before continuing. “Surely there is nothing so urgent in London that a delay of twenty-four hours would wreak havoc upon it.”

“Um, no, of course not,” David stammered. 

“Splendid,” the viscountess replied, walking over to the bell pull near the door and giving it a firm tug. A maid appeared a few moments later. “Please prepare a room for our guest Lord Nolan,” she instructed. The young woman curtsied and disappeared. “I’ll leave you to the rest of your conversation, my Lord,” she continued. “But after, when you’ve had a chance to refresh yourself, I’d count it as an honor if you’d join me and the viscount for tea on the back terrace.”

“I’d be delighted, my Lady,” David replied, with a small bow. 

“And that goes for you, as well, Miss Nolan. And Miss Blanchard.”

“Of course,” Emma murmured, finally finding her voice.

Once the viscountess had left them, Emma turned to David, unable to disguise her shock and dismay. She’d been informed of the betrothal when the contract had been drawn up and signed when she was but a child, but during the ensuing years, she’d well and truly forgotten about it. Before her uncle passed, a meeting had been arranged for her and Lord Cassidy, and while he seemed to be a perfectly congenial fellow, there had been no spark, no affinity between them at that meeting. Certainly nothing like what she felt when in the presence of Mr. Jones. And now with Earl Gold dying, they must want to fulfill the contract before he passed. 

She didn’t know why she was so disappointed. It wasn’t as if Mr. Jones would have ever considered her, if their collaboration proved unsuccessful. No date had been set for the nuptials when the contract was signed, and she had been looking forward to participating in the London social season, even if she’d be unable to accept any theoretical proposals of marriage. There was no reason to anticipate that her debut season wouldn’t happen, until Lord Cassidy showed up at David’s front door.

Her feelings for Mr. Jones notwithstanding, she had no choice but to fulfill the terms of the contract signed so many years ago. And it was exactly those feelings that made her acutely aware of how much she’d be giving up to do so.

The chance for love.

Emma couldn’t face David any longer. She turned and fled the room.

~*~*~

Killian wasn’t sure he’d sat through a more thoroughly uncomfortable afternoon tea in all his life. 

Lord David Nolan, Miss Nolan’s older brother, had suddenly appeared at Jones Hall earlier planning on taking Miss Nolan home to London the next morning - before the conclusion of the house party - but had been dissuaded from that course of action by Elsa. She’d then proceeded to invite him, Miss Nolan, and Miss Blanchard to tea on the terrace. And since the invitation made it a formal affair, he’d also been expected to attend.

So here he was, trying to enjoy the always excellent repast prepared by the cook of Jones Hall. Elsa, as always, was a gracious hostess, engaging everyone in conversation, and Liam and Killian had formed a friendship with Lord Nolan, David, with a swiftness that was quite astonishing. But as the meal continued, and Killian cast his gaze about the others around the seating area, it was the silent, nonverbal discourse that brought a disquiet to his spirit.

Killian had always prided himself on his ability to read people, and he was rarely wrong in his assessments - discerning with ease true motives, and desired outcomes in social interactions. And at this particular social interaction, the body language of their guests screamed as loudly as a Times headline.

Miss Blanchard appeared equal parts agitated and excited, her mannerisms superfluous and her speech even more animated than he’d become accustomed to over the course of the week. She spoke quickly, but while she’d normally maintain eye contact with whomever she spoke with, today, she did anything but. Her gaze bounced around the terrace never alighting on any one person for long, not even Miss Nolan.

Who appeared to have been crying. That more than anything made his heart clench in his chest and long to hold her in his arms in comfort and seek to assuage her distress. She still participated in the conversation and her appetite appeared to be unchanged, but her skin was pale underneath the high color on her cheeks and around her eyes was a thin line of red. Coupled with her refusal to fully look at either him or David for any length of time, Killian was afraid of what David’s sudden appearance might mean for Miss Nolan. 

David himself proved to be a worthy and honorable man, not that he would have expected anything different after his conversation with Miss Nolan about their respective families earlier that day. David’s love and care for Miss Nolan was obvious in the way he talked about her, though there did seem to be a note of sorrow and contrition in his gaze when he looked at his sister. But the look upon his countenance when he glanced at Miss Blanchard or engaged her in conversation was the most telling. His smile was wide, yet soft at the same time. His tone with her was gentle. He leaned into her, careful not to miss anything she said. His gaze upon her was intense and focused. It was quite obvious to Killian that David was enamoured with Miss Blanchard, and the lady’s response to him - the blush upon her cheeks when she looked at him, however short a time it might be, the hitched breath, the sparkle in her eyes, and the way she leaned into him when they spoke together - made it clear that she reciprocated his tender feelings.

Killian was again torn. If Miss Blanchard did truly return David’s affections, then there was no reason to try and turn her attentions to him. He’d have to confirm his speculations with Emma somehow, but her agitation made it nearly impossible to catch her eye. Perhaps at dinner tonight, he’d be able to speak with her about it, as well as try to ascertain the cause of her turmoil.

~*~*~

Killian was beside himself. Since taking tea with his brother, sister-in-law, the Nolans, and Miss Blanchard the day before, he’d not had a moment he could seek out the company of Miss Nolan to confirm his speculation about Miss Blanchard and David. And now the masquerade ball that would bring the house party to an end was about to begin. 

He had to make sure that he was the first to dance with Miss Nolan this evening. Miss Blanchard’s dance card would undoubtedly be full rather quickly, then Miss Nolan’s would fill up with men seeking any avenue to maintain proximity to Miss Blanchard.

Killian entered the ballroom and scanned over those already gathered. He quickly spied Liam and Elsa talking with David and hurried over to greet them.

“Good evening, brother, Elsa, David,” he said. “Have Miss Nolan and Miss Blanchard arrived yet?”

“Not yet,” David informed him before his words trailed away as his gaze focused on the entrance to the ballroom. Killian turned and the ladies he saw there took his breath away. 

A lightning bolt from heaven. Again.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! I'll probably post the next ch Sunday night before I go to bed, because it's a doozy! Until then, y'all!

[teamhook]

Savage Heart~ CS AU

Beta’ed by @ilovemesomekillianjones

Chapter 1: The Wedding

~~EPOV

Emma stares at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She looks at the image she makes today, dressed in the most modest white wedding dress she has ever seen. It's plain and simple, nothing exquisite or extravagant about it, nothing like the dress that she had always dreamt of when she was a young girl.

Once upon a time, the day she'd been promised a betrothal to August, she'd envisioned such a dress. Unfortunately, she will not be marrying August, the man she loves, as she must protect him and her family's honor.

This is my duty, is all she keeps telling herself. She knows it is crazy, but she still longs for August, even though he chose another. Tears slowly fall and it makes her more determined to conclude this transaction because essentially, that is all it is - a business deal.

A soft knock raps lightly at the door and Mother Superior's voice sounds softly. "Emma, it is time. They are ready for you."

Emma slowly walks to open the door and closes her eyes desperately hoping for a sign that she doesn't need to go through with it, alas nothing happens. She has no choice, so she slowly covers her face with the sheer material her veil is made of. This is her final moment of freedom.

She can faintly hear the wedding march playing on the other side of the tall twin doors. Suddenly the doors open and she starts her walk down the aisle. She holds her head high and the voices fade into the back of her mind by the time she reaches the altar.

The priest starts reciting the exchange of vows consent.

"Emma and Killian, have you come here freely and without reservation, to give yourselves to each other in marriage?" They both answer in unison, "Yes." The priest continues, "Will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?" They answer, "Yes." "Will you accept children lovingly from God, and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?" The answer is prompt, "Yes."

"Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church." They heed the priest's words. Killian looks at Emma and says his vows.

"I, Killian, take you, Emma, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. "

Emma takes a breath and starts her vows in reply. "I, Emma, take you, Killian, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."

They follow the traditional vows with the Blessing of Rings and a kiss that seals their union. Although this is not their first kiss, Emma has never experienced a kiss like this one before, a kiss tinged with the promise of something more. Quickly composing herself, Emma puts that thought in the back of her mind. Suddenly everything is a whirlwind around her and the next thing she remembers is finding herself in a carriage with her husband, headed to an unknown destination.

Not long ago she was ready to make vows of a different variety. Losing her love had broken her heart. She couldn't bare living under the same roof as the happy couple. She tried not to let it show that she was hopelessly in love with her cousin's husband. She knew love would never find her, so the only choice was the convent.

But now, so many changes have happened so fast. This marriage is the only choice she's decided for herself, no one can take this from her. Never again will Emma find herself at the mercy of others.

That lovely chapel in the convent had been her haven for a short time, but now a new endeavor is upon her. Emma looks at her husband and hopes that God will forgive them for a marriage that was not entered in the name of love. They had lied through their teeth to the priest.

She had felt the guilt right away, but the alternative is not an option.

~~KPOV

Killian Jones always considered himself a patient man, but right now that ability to wait is nowhere to be seen. He feels powerless and he hates that feeling. Killian looks toward the doors, willing his bride-to-be to finally show herself. For a few seconds, he fears Emma has betrayed him.

He looks around the chapel. There are no loved ones here to show support on either side, just some novices and a few of the older nuns. He has no family in town left alive, only a longtime friend that refused to show because he does not agree with this marriage.

When he finally hears the music begin to play, Killian takes a breath and tries to form a smile. He looks to the opening doors and finds himself entranced by the woman slowly making her way to him. He is not a blind man, she is beautiful, but sadly she is not the woman deeply embedded in his heart. But he will have his happy ending and it does not matter what needs to be done or how long it takes for him to get it.

The priest starts reciting the exchange of vows consent.

"Emma and Killian, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?" They both answer in unison, "Yes." the priest continues, "Will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?" They answer, "Yes." "Will you accept children lovingly from God, and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?" The answer is prompt, "Yes."

"Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church." They heed the priest's words. Killian looks at Emma and says his vows.

"I, Killian, take you, Emma, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. "

Emma takes a breath and starts her vows in reply. "I, Emma, take you, Killian, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."

They follow the traditional vows with the Blessing of Rings and a hope-filled kiss that seals their union. It is a first kiss that holds so much promise for both Killian and Emma, they are unknowingly courting danger as neither suspects true love could soon be in the cards for them.

Not long after the ceremony, the newlyweds find themselves in a carriage headed home.

Killian can see the guilt all over his wife's face. He didn't know how it was possible to be able to see her truly. Yes, he knows his way around women, but with Emma, it is something entirely different.

"Darling, we will arrive soon to our new home," Killian says, and their eyes meet and time stands still for a brief second.

Tagging:

@hookedonapirate @kmomof4​ @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87 @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @kymbersmith-90 @branlovestowrite @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @killianjonesownsmyheart1 @thisonesatellite @thesschesthair @winterbythesea @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke  @superchocovian  @lfh1226-linda @artistic-writer @thislassishooked @shardminds @winterbaby89

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Sleeps Ten, My Ass (1/2)

Summary: It's become tradition for Emma Swan to spend the holidays with her brother, their cousins, and their families. This Christmas was no different. The group booked a four night stay at a cozy mountain cabin to celebrate. The listing said it sleeps ten, but upon arrival they discover a small issue. The listing was wrong and now Emma and Killian Jones, the only two single people within their group, have to spend the next four nights sharing a bed. Fortunately... they've shared a bed before.

A/N: @eastwesthomeisbest it is I, your CS Secret Santa! Thank you for being so patient and understanding! I'm sorry I couldn't post this sooner, but between the normal busyness of the holidays and my entire family coming down with Covid, finding time to write was a struggle. I hope you find this worth the wait. It was lovely hearing about your traditions and I hope you had a fantastic holiday!

Thanks to @kmomof4 for looking this over for me and to the @cssecretsanta2020 for once again hosting a fantastic event. Side note, this fic also completes my Only One Bed: Holiday Edition CS Winter Bingo square!

Rated eventual E / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Part One

She was late. Super late. Incredibly late. Late enough that she was certain her brother had already called the cops to report her missing. Late enough that it was already pitch black on the back mountain road, forcing her to drive at a creeping speed so she didn’t careen off the side of a cliff, which was making her even more late.

In her defense, they should all have expected that she’d be late. She was always late. Every dinner, every holiday get together, every vacation, every celebration, Emma Swan was always notoriously late.

Not because she didn’t want to spend time with her family. Far from. She just… wasn’t always in control over her own schedule. Bail bonds and bounty hunting wasn’t exactly a 9 to 5 gig, and when a mark finally crawled out of whatever hole in which he (it was more often than not a he) had hid himself away through some dumbass attempt to avoid the consequences of his own dumbass actions, well… many times it meant a change in her plans.

Was it annoying? Yes.

Did she make sure to take out that frustration on the perp? Also, yes.

Was it even worse for the offender when he made her late for the Christmas get-together her cousin Elsa had planned for them all - a four night stay at a picturesque mountain cabin big enough to sleep three married couples and two singles with amenities that would keep them cozy and content over the holiday? Oh, yes.

Big. Fat. Yes.

To go with the big fat payout she needed in order to pay her portion of said holiday getaway.

Rounding another winding corner, the soft glow of the illuminated cabin stirred a strange mix of sensations in her chest; a swirl of relief at nearly being there and panic over what was awaiting her inside. Parking her bug next to the vehicles that signalled she was indeed the last to arrive, Emma fortified herself for a moment before exiting the vehicle, grabbing her bag, and marching up to the cabin as though she were about to face a firing squad.

David, her brother, and Liam, Elsa’s husband, would likely scold her with their hands firmly planted on their hips or their arms crossed tightly over their chests. The rebukes would be drowned out by David’s wife, Mary Margaret, and Elsa’ sister, Anna, who would both rush at Emma and force her into claustrophobic hugs while they expressed their worry and relief, offering Emma a blanket, a place by the fire, a plate of food, a cup of tea, all without taking a breath between them as Anna’s husband, Kristoff, tried to tell the women to let Emma breathe and get settled.

The only one who would not be making a fuss would likely already have a drink ready for her, a knowing smirk teasing his lips as he tried to stifle an eye roll at the group’s overreaction.

Killian Jones. Liam’s brother and the only other single member of their group.

Hand on the doorknob, Emma took a deep breath and opened the door to the expected chaos. And chaos there was, but… none of it seemed to be about her and her tardiness.

Elsa and David were in the kitchen. One of their phones, clearly on speaker, was held between them as they argued with whoever was on the other end of the line. Liam and Kristoff were seated at the dining table with a laptop open, the elder Jones frantically typing and clicking as Kristoff scrolled on his phone with a furrowed brow.

“There’s nothing up here that could be used as an extra one,” Anna called out from the top of the stairs. “Mary Margaret and I have looked through all the closets and checked all the furniture.”

None of them had noticed her presence yet, and she was about to say something when heavy boot falls sounded from the porch behind her.

“Ah, Swan. You arrived in one piece then?” Killian said cheekily with an arm full of firewood.

“Uh, yeah,” she replied, setting her bag down so she could help with the load he was carrying. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries,” he assured her, making his way to the fireplace and stacking their logs beside the hearth. “You missed the initial excitement, but you’ve made it in time to witness the spiral everyone has since descended into.” Emma glanced around the cabin at the said spiral, wondering what had set everyone off as Killian added a couple of logs to the fire, then grabbed the poker so he could stoke it. “I told them I’d make do on the couch, or even a pallet on the floor, but--”

“Sleeps ten, my ass!” Elsa shouted as she angrily hung up the call. “They swapped out the couch and forgot to update the listing!”

“What?” Emma said, but no one other than Killian seemed to have heard her, or even realized she was there.

“That’s ridiculous!” Liam bellowed. “What do they plan to do about it?”

“Can they bring an air mattress or cot?” Kristoff asked, still scrolling through his phone. “Because none of the local stores seem to have one, and even if they did, they’d be closed by the time we got back to town.”

Killian stepped away from the fire he’d coaxed back to life and into the metaphorical one building at the kitchen island where the rest of their group - save for Emma - had gathered.

“I already told you, the couch will be fine.”

“Don’t be silly, Killian,” Anna replied. “Have you seen that couch? It’s far too narrow and your feet are gonna dangle off the end.”

“Then the floor will suit me--”

“For the amount of money we spent renting this place, you are not sleeping on the floor,” Elsa declared. “I cannot believe this! How could they make a mistake like that?”

“What did the owner say?” Mary Margaret asked, setting out a platter of food she’d removed from the fridge and encouraging everyone to eat something… as though snacking would somehow fix the issue. An issue Emma still wasn’t sure was the cause of everyone’s upset.

“He won’t do anything,” Elsa snapped. “He said they had to replace the couch, which had been a sleeper, and apparently forgot to update the listing, but didn’t see the problem since we only have eight people, not ten, and there are four king size beds.”

“Didn’t you explain that there weren’t four couples, though?”

“Oh, she did,” David interjected. “But the man didn’t seem to care about anything other than getting back to his tropical Christmas vacation.”

“So what do we do?” Anna asked. “Where is Killian gonna sleep?”

“He and I can just share the bed.”

Seven heads collectively snapped in her direction, a mixture of shock and surprise being directed her way as her family, for the first time, realized she was there and then computed her words.

Words she would later blame on the fact that although no one seemed bothered by the fact she was late, she still felt the need to make up for it and therefore was compelled to offer a solution to the problem, even if said solution meant sharing a bed with a man she absolutely did not have feelings for and no one would convince her otherwise, not even her own treacherous heart, and thereby torturing herself for the next several days.

“Are you sure, love?” Killian asked, his eyes scrutinizing her, looking for any hint that she might be regretting the offer and wished to back out. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything you weren’t completely comfortable with.”

“Are you planning to make it uncomfortable for her?” David asked in his overly protective, brotherly tone. “Because I’m warning you--”

“Warning him?” Liam braced his hands against the top of the island and leaned over it, staring David down as he asked, “Are you insinuating my brother is some sort of cad who would take advantage of--”

“We all know Killian’s reputation.”

“Okay,” Emma interjected before things could escalate further. “I think you’re all forgetting that I have a reputation, too. Of being able to take care of myself. Besides, I trust Killian. We’re both adults. There’s no reason for either of us to sleep on a couch or the floor when there is a perfectly good bed, big enough for us to share. So…” She marched back over to where she’d dropped her bag and collected it as she continued on, “If you don’t mind. I’ve had a long day and all I want right now is a shower and some sleep.” Directing her gaze to Killian she asked, “Where’s your stuff?”

“It’s uh…” he began, scratching behind his ear as he furtively cast a glance towards David. “It’s on the landing.”

“Great,” she said, turning towards the stairs. “Grab it on your way up so you can settle in while I shower.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret called out. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat or--”

“I’m fine,” Emma answered back halfway up the stairs. “I’ll see you all in the morning.” Looking over her shoulder, she saw Killian hesitate at the bottom step. “Are you coming?”

“Aye,” he answered, following after her two steps at a time and grabbing his duffle before slipping into the room behind her.

Tossing his bag onto the bed, he glanced around the room and inquired one last time, “You’re certain you’re okay with this, Swan?”

“Yes, Jones,” Emma replied in an exasperated tone she hoped masked the nerves currently coursing through her. After gathering up her toiletry items, she straightened and faced him, a thought suddenly occurring to her. “Unless… You are uncomfortable with it and would rather--”

“No, no,” he insisted, his shoulders relaxing and his usual cocky demeanor coming forward. “It’s not that,” he said in a cheeky and slightly taunting tone.

“What is it then?” Emma asked, trying hard to not be taken in by his charm as he swaggered towards her.

“Well, I seem to remember you saying something about it being a one time thing the last time we shared a bed,” he crooned, twisting a section of her hair around his finger. “Seems you’ll have to eat those words now.”

Emma wet her lips and tried to squash the delighted feeling surging through her at the way his eyes dropped to follow the motion. “Bad form bringing up our… what did you call it?” she asked in a mocking tone as she cocked her head to one side. “Our dalliance?” He winced at her terrible attempt to mimic his accent and they both chortled as she reminded him, “I thought we agreed to never speak of that night again.”

“You’re right, Swan. Bad form indeed,” he conceded in a soft timbre. “My apologies, love.”

He backed away and retreated to the other side of the room where he made himself busy unpacking his duffle. “Go ahead and shower, Swan,” he said. “I’ll hop in after you.”

“Thanks,” she threw out over her shoulder as she shut herself in the bathroom, suddenly very eager to have a bit of separation from him. From him and the memory of that night. The night they had shared a bed - and a whole lot more - with one another after copious amounts of alcohol and hours on a dance floor somewhere in the Caribbean during the cruise they’d all taken together earlier that year to celebrate Liam and Elsa’s wedding.

A memory that stubbornly refused to be cast aside, making for a very long shower - a fitful, highly inappropriate shower - especially considering the man she’d been fixated on was in the next room, waiting on her to finish so he could get naked and wet and…

Dear God, Emma. Get a grip!

Emerging from the bathroom, adorned in her pajamas with her wet hair wrapped in a towel, Emma hoped the red in her cheeks would be chalked up to the heat of the shower and not because her fantasies had gotten away from her.

“All yours,” she said, pulling her hair dryer out of her bag and plugging it into the wall at the makeshift vanity.

She combed through the wet strands as Killian hovered at the doorway to the bathroom. Pausing her actions, she stared up at him expectantly, trying not to remember what he looked like shirtless.

“About before,” he said, his voice deep with an edge of concern. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by bringing up that night, I just…” He left out a heavy breath and ran his hand through his hair. “I was just trying to bring a bit of levity to an otherwise tense situa--”

“Killian,” she said, waving him off. “It’s fine. Really. You didn’t upset me by bringing it up.” Shrugging, she tried to give off a sense of nonchalance about the whole thing. “It happened. We’ve both moved on from it. No big deal.”

“Right,” he said with a bit of a drawl. “Well… I’ll try not to take too long, so as to not keep you up.” Glancing towards the bed, he said, “I hope it’s okay that I took that side. I didn’t know if you had one you preferred.”

Emma turned to see which side he’d taken. Not that it mattered.

“Honestly,” she answered, “I don’t really have one. It’s not like I share my bed often enough with anyone to develop a preference.”

“Aye. Same,” he replied with that adorable lopsided smile of his.

Emma’s heart fluttered for several seconds after he disappeared into the bathroom. He didn’t often share his bed? Really? Like David had said earlier, Killian had a bit of a reputation as a ladies’ man. It was one of the reasons she’d pulled back after their night together; she’d hated being just another notch on his bedpost.

How many notches had he added since her, she wondered.

She had plenty of time to contemplate that question. It wasn’t until well after she’d dried her hair, set her alarm, and settled under the covers that Killian emerged from the bathroom. The last drowsy thought Emma had was whether he’d taken advantage of the memory of them together to help let off some steam whilst he was in the shower like she had. She didn’t get a chance to dwell on the thought, though. The tiring day had caught up to her and sleep took over the moment she felt the bed dip beside her.

~/~

“Morning, Emma! Sleep well?”

Anna’s voice was far too perky for the current early morning hour, causing Emma to grimace as she shuffled past the red headed woman on her way to the kitchen.

“Oh, sorry,” Anna whispered, tiptoeing behind her. “Coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot.”

“Please,” Emma grumbled, slumping down onto one of the barstools at the island. “A fresh pot? How early did you get up?”

“Mary Margaret and I got up with the guys,” she said, pouring Emma a cup, then placing it and a tray of fixings on the counter top in front of her. “We wanted to make sure they got a good meal and some coffee before they headed out.”

Emma nodded her understanding, adding enough sugar to her cup that it would have earned her a disgusted look from Killian had he been there and not out traipsing through the woods with an axe. It was an annual tradition at this point. For the past five years - ever since the Jones brothers had entered their lives through Liam and Elsa’s courtship - the guys went out on Christmas Eve morning and cut down a tree for them to decorate. While they were out finding the perfect specimen, Mary Margaret would lead - or in Emma’s case, berate - the girls in making the decorations. The guys would join in once they got back and set up the tree, and the day would be spent stringing popcorn or dried oranges or cranberries for garland as well as attempting to avoid tiny cuts from the origami-esque construction of paper or cardboard ornaments.

There were also snacks and cocktails, the occasional break from crafting to watch a Christmas movie or play a game. Of course, every year, Emma and Killian would insist they watch Die Hard, which Mary Margaret would dismiss as not being a Christmas movie and an argument would ensue - mostly because it gave both Emma and Killian a perverse sense of pleasure to rile up Mary Margaret. Not that they didn’t love the movie or wholeheartedly believe that it was, in fact, a Christmas movie.

“Oh, Emma! You’re up!” Mary Margaret set down a stack of boxes on the island, the contents of which held various crafting supplies no doubt. “Did you get some breakfast?”

Emma shook her head and waved off the woman’s attempt to feed her. “Not yet,” she said. “I’ll get something after I’m sufficiently caffeinated.”

“Well drink up,” Mary Margaret ordered as she began to retreat back into the room she and David were using. “We need to get going on these decorations.”

A moment later she returned with several sacks and with Anna’s help, began organizing the supplies. Emma took that as her cue to find another place to enjoy her coffee.

Glancing out the French doors that led to the back deck she caught sight of a platinum blonde braid. Emma grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders before joining Elsa in the peace and quiet of the mountain morning.

“Hey,” she said, pulling Elsa’s attention away from the view. “Mind if I join you?”

“Please do,” Elsa replied, making room on the bench. “Do you want me to turn on the heater?”

It shouldn’t have surprised Emma that her cousin hadn’t already started the propane heater. The cold had never seemed to bother her like it did Emma.

“No, I’ve got it.” Emma cranked up the heat then sat down, snuggling into the blanket she’d brought out with her.

“Sleep okay?” Elsa asked. “Any problems with the room?”

“No,” Emma answered, taking a sip of her coffee before adding, “The room’s great. Very comfortable.”

“Good,” Elsa said, turning her attention back towards the snowy mountain view. “And sharing with Killian? That, uh… Did that go okay?”

Emma rolled her eyes and hid her knowing smirk behind her mug. “It was fine,” she replied.

“I mean, I’m sure Killian was a gentleman, I just hate that the two of you have to endure this awkwardness when I did my best to--”

“Elsa,” Emma interrupted. “It isn’t your fault, and we will make do. It’s fine. Really.”

The icy blonde’s shoulders relaxed and a puff of exhaled air lingered at her lips for a moment before she said, “Good. I’m glad.” With a furtive glance in Emma’s direction she muttered, “Let’s just hope David thinks it's all fine.”

“I’m a big girl,” Emma reminded her cousin. “David will get over it.”

“I don’t know,” Elsa replied in a sing-song tone. “He was looking pretty hostile this morning when Killian sauntered down the stairs with a whistle on his lips. I’m pretty sure Liam made sure to be the one who took the axe when they left.”

The two women shared a chuckle, both of them knowing full well there was no danger of the men resorting to violence, even if they did bluster a bit.

“I’m sure Killian is reveling in the opportunity to needle David, but I trust Liam to make sure cooler heads prevail.”

“And his needling wouldn’t have any elements of truth in it, right?” Elsa inquired, not so subtly.

Emma sighed exasperatedly. “No,” she stated adamantly. “Nothing happened, and nothing is going to happen.”

She shifted uncomfortably under Elsa’s scrutiny, her piercing blue eyes cutting through her assertions as she hummed a dubious sound.

“If you say so.”

Emma was about to double down on her words, but was cut off by Anna’s sudden appearance.

“Everything is ready! Come make decorations with us!”

Emma and Elsa shared a resigned look then followed Anna back into the cabin, after shutting off the heater, of course. The ladies then spent the next hour or so making handmade decorations whilst also prepping food items for the upcoming meals.

When the guys returned, Emma stayed out of the way. She’d learned from years past to just let David, Liam, Mary Margaret, and Elsa duke it out on the best way to set up the tree. While the four of them conferenced in the living room, she joined Anna in the kitchen, who was busy making everyone a hot cocoa.

“Need a hand?”

“Yes, please!”

The two women filled and garnished mugs of hot cocoa while every so often peeking outside to watch Kristoff and Killian clean up the tree. Once it was suitable for indoors - and they’d gotten the final word of where to set it up - the men brought it inside and secured it in the stand. Everyone stood back to admire the magnificent find as Emma and Anna handed out the beverages.

“Jones,” Emma said, offering him a hot cup as she came to stand beside him.

“Thank you, love,” he replied, slightly out of breath. A half-smile pulled at his lips and crinkled at the corner of his eyes when he noticed she’d adorned his in the same manner as hers - with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. It was how she’d always taken her cocoa and slowly but surely she was converting the rest of their group to do the same.

“It’s a great looking tree,” she commented, sipping her hot chocolate nonchalantly so he wouldn’t read too much into her compliment.

“Aye,” he said, taking another long look at the fruit of his and the other men’s labor. A fruit that was quickly filling the living room with a pungent pine scent that tickled Emma’s sinuses. “And what of your efforts?” he asked, turning his attention onto her. “Care to show me what you lasses have been working on and how I might assist?”

Emma rolled her eyes and led him to the dining table where he prompted her to give him a demonstration of the crafting. Soon, the others joined them and the day went on just as Emma knew it would: completing the decorations, stringing lights and garlands, decorating the tree, gorging themselves on a big meal, partaking in snacks, then some drinks, then some more drinks, and arguing over then watching several Christmas themed movies and shows. Unfortunately, no Die Hard.

“You know, Swan,” Killian whispered in her ear as everyone began to disperse from the living room to turn in for the night. “We have a TV with streaming services in our room…”

The feel of his breath against the shell of her ear, as well as the way he said ‘our room’ sent a thrill up her spine.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice.

Was it fortunate?

“Your point?” she said, her voice a little too breathy, but maybe he’d think it was because they’d just climbed the steep steps to the second floor.

“My point,” he continued, following her into their - THE - room, “is once we’ve showered and readied ourselves, we can watch Die Hard in bed and celebrate the season properly.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jones,” she replied, even as her heart skipped a few beats at the reminder they’d both be taking turns getting naked and wet with only a flimsy door that did not lock between them.

Ever the gentleman, Killian let her go first. While he took his turn, she busied herself with getting ready for bed, queuing up the movie, and adding an extra blanket to the stack of covers. In no time, they were settled on their respective sides of the bed, enjoying watching John McClane run around Nakatomi Plaza barefoot whilst being a ‘fly in the ointment’ to Hans Gruber.

They both barely remained conscious, but somehow got to the credits before crashing. The constant recitation of dialogue probably helped.

At some point in the night, a rustling sound in the corner of the room stirred Emma. Instinctively, she reached over to feel for Killian, only to find his side of the bed empty.

“Killian?” she croaked out, his name heavy on her tongue from sleep. “What are you--”

“The heat went out,” he told her, making her aware of her own shivering and the frigid air of the room. “Elsa is having kittens over it,” he went on to explain. “Giving the owner a right earful as we speak.”

A low hum and soft glow began to fill the room. Killian stood and visibly shook himself before heading back to bed.

“What’s that?” Emma asked, shifting in bed and moving closer to the middle.

“Space heater,” Killian answered, still shivering from the cold. “The owner relented and gave us the code to the storage closet. There were a few of these in there.”

Emma hummed in response, her mind weighing whether to bring up the idea of--

“Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if we… that is,” he hedged, clearing his throat. “Until the heater manages to raise the temperature, would you be okay if we…”

“Sure,” she said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically as she scooted closer to him.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, his chest already plastered against her back and his face buried in the crook of her neck.

Emma moaned in relief, the heat of his body already warming her and staying the chills that had made her tense. In an effort to find a comfortable position for her legs - without entangling them with his - she rocked her hips back into his and felt…

“Bloody hell,” Killian grumbled in an embarrassed tone as he pulled away. “Apologies, Swan. I didn’t intend--”

“Killian,” she laughed, rolling over to face him. “It’s fine. It happens. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I just don’t want you to think I have ulterior motives for suggesting--”

“I don’t,” she assured him. “I know guys can’t always control… that.”

“Well, I am usually much more in control of such things, I assure you.”

“I’m sure you are,” she said in an appeasing tone, earning her a side-eyed glare. “Seriously, though,” she continued, trying to coax him back to her. “Your morning wood doesn’t offend me, so will you please come back here.”

He relented after some not so gentle tugging, and a moment later they were once again entwined in the other’s arms.

“Mmmm,” Emma hummed, nestling a bit further into his chest. “How are you always so warm? I feel like I’m always cold.”

As Emma drifted off to sleep she was certain she heard him say, “I know, love. But I’ll always be here for you when you need to keep warm.”

Part Two