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exhaustedpirate · 1 year ago

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his greatest trick

a silly tiktok showed up in my fyp and a CS fic was born, isn't that usually how it goes? so enjoy a little merlin matchmaking fic beta'd by the brilliant @belovedcreation

rated G | 3303 words

also on AO3

Killian Jones was new to Storybrooke High School and Merlin was concerned.

He had recently moved from England to live with his brother. The town of Storybrooke had warmly welcomed Liam Jones a few months back, as he found a place by the docks, a job at the sheriff’s department and began to make friends and connections. They would do the same for his younger brother, that was the way of the small town.

Miss Mills spoke of Killian’s quiet intelligence in Science, Miss Bell spoke of his quiet excitement for Arts and Mr. Dakkar spoke of his quiet concentration in History. Emphasis on quiet.

“He knows the answer, I can see it in his eyes, but he doesn’t raise his hand,” Regina would complain. “I really don’t want to fail him for poor class participation.”

“You should see the way his hands just fly off the paper during a project,” Tina would dreamily recount, her eyes bright and smile ever-present. “And I can see where he’s taking this project, can see the final lines but,” Then she would sigh and her smile would drop, her eyes sad. “he never hands it in. I can’t grade him on something I don’t have.”

“I feel for those boys, Merlin,” Nemo would tell him, with compassionate eyes on the window outside. “Liam has been doing such a great job in making a life for himself and taking care of his brother on top of that. Killian is such a bright soul, you can tell he wants to learn, wants to do more but he’s afraid.” Nemo’s sigh was weary and sad, his desire to help the young boy clear in his eyes. “How is he in your class?”

More of the same, if Merlin was honest. He could tell Killian loved to read, had already read most of the books they talked about, but seemed more than happy to re-read them. Like in Regina’s classes, Merlin could see the desire to answer in his eyes, could see the disappointment in them when someone gave the wrong answer, could see his pride when one of his classmates got the answer right. Killian Jones wanted to learn, he wanted to do more.

When nothing improved a couple of months into the school year, Merlin decided to take matters into his own hands, in any way possible.

Maybe he just needed the right push.

Emma Nolan was Storybrooke’s sweetheart.

Daughter of the beloved sheriff and the esteemed Mayor, everyone knew her and had seen her grow up. She was confident, kind and hardworking. Her name was spoken often in praise in the faculty room, even when she almost blew up the science room in her haste to finish a project.

Maybe…

It would require cunning, cleverness. He would have to develop a foolproof plan. He looked at the seating chart, memorized it, and strategized. He was meticulous. He…

Well… he got rid of a desk.

Thankfully, Leroy didn’t ask many questions. He just grumbled the usual amount when Merlin asked him to help him move the desk to the faculty room - Mr. Hopper would appreciate the extra space for his files.

Now, he just needed the puzzle pieces to fall in their respective places.

As always, Killian entered the room first, his quiet footsteps almost inaudible as Merlin wrote the theme on the board. When he turned, he had sat down on the last table of the middle row, as usual. Most of the others had filled out the seats out front.

A minute before the bell, Belle French entered the room along with the others and sat along on one of the few free desks. Merlin had wondered if the clever book lover would have been a better match for Killian but he knew that what he needed was extrovertedness. However…

Predictably, Emma and Ruby Lucas were the last to arrive. Laughing and chatting as usual, they stopped when they noticed the lack of a free desk where they could sit together.

“Mr. Emrys, what happened to the desk that was here?” Emma asked with a frown.

“Yeah, where are we supposed to sit?” Ruby followed.

Fighting back a victorious grin, Merlin turned to them. “Oh, I’m afraid the desk got broken,” He saw Emma’s eyebrow rise as she looked at him and he wondered if she, somehow, knew. “But there are still available seats.”

Merlin looked around, as if he hadn’t memorized where everyone was known to sit. He first pointed to where Belle sat alone. “Ruby, you can sit with Belle, and Emma,” He then pointed to where Killian was decidedly avoiding eye contact. “you can sit with Killian.”

Maybe it’s not exactly responsible or ethical but he gives his students a written assignment, mainly so he can sit behind his desk and covertly observe his genius plan in action. He watches as Killian’s eyes glance over to Emma every now and then, and how hers find him in turn. Surprisingly, he notices how Ruby’s chair is slightly but determinedly turned to face Belle. Did he…?

---

It’s not instant, of course.

But Killian begins to raise his hand in class and Merlin sees the way Emma smiles encouragingly. Killian’s gaze stops being permanently glued to his desk. He starts answering questions and there is a distinct British murmur mixing with the other familiar voices.

“He actually answered a question today,” Regina reported back a month later. “And it was correct!”

“He’s handed out his projects every class this past month,” Tina exclaimed excitedly. “Mark my words, Merlin, he’ll be an artist.”

“He’s been sitting next to Miss Swan in classes,” Nemo astutely informs him. “He’s been more talkative and even her grades have improved. Do you have any clue as to what happened?”

Merlin sips his coffee, giving himself time to hide his self-congratulatory smile. “I think Killian found the right motivation, I’m glad to see he’s improved.”

But he should know that Nemo would be impossible to illude; that man had a way to see into one’s soul. Although, he didn’t confront or chastise him. Nemo simply smiled and nodded.

Merlin watched as Killian became more participative in class and as he became more confident. He often saw them sitting together at lunch, accompanied by Ruby and eventually Belle. He was told that they also sat together in other classes and that his participation improved.

Sometimes, he would run into Liam and he would hear the pride in his voice when he spoke of how his brother was becoming more himself. How, after years of living in foster care due to the courts’ mistaken assessment of Liam’s capacity to care for him, he was turning into the man Liam had hoped he would become. He wondered if Emma had done some magic spell on the young Jones or if she had simply given Killian the opportunity to become who he was always meant to become.

Merlin had become a teacher to help improve people’s lives. He was convinced it all started with something small, the flap of a butterfly’s wing. This was the proof he had been looking for.

Graduation arrived faster than he had expected and he sat with the other teachers as his students crossed the stage to get their diplomas. He was known to tear up every time the black caps filled the sky. But who could blame him?

He got lost in the sea of students and parents as everyone congratulated one another, made plans for the summer and after. He watched as Miss Bell squeaked in happiness at Miss Rose’s ballet scholarship. As Miss Mills looked on with reluctant pride as Mr Whale bragged about his acceptance to Harvard.

And then he caught the moment Mr Dakkar embraced the youngest Jones as Liam looked on with pride. A blur of blonde hair caught his attention as Emma stopped in front of him.

“Guess what?”

His smile was involuntary and indulgent at her bright excitement. “What news do you have for me, Miss Nolan?”

“First of all, you’re not my teacher anymore so just Emma from now on.” He grinned at her sass even as his chest pained at the further realization that he wouldn’t have this blonde tornado in his classes anymore. “Second, and most important, I got accepted to the police academy!”

There was no faking his happiness at this news. He had known almost from the beginning of knowing that she wanted to follow her father’s footsteps on a larger scale. Had mentioned time and again how she wanted to find criminals, not break up bar fights. He remembered the pride rising over the fear in her parent’s eyes when she had first made her wishes known when they met. He wasn’t at all surprised that she had achieved her goal.

“That’s fantastic, Emma! You should be proud!”

Her grin shone brighter if it was even possible, a veritable sun on a cloudy day. “I am! We’re going on a roadtrip to New York over the summer so we can get to know the area and then we’re officially moving there in August.”

“We?” Merlin’s smile was confused. “Are you parents moving too?” He hadn’t heard anything about the sheriff resigning.

“Oh, no.” There was a visible red glow to Emma’s cheeks as she looked away for a moment. “Killian got into college there too, we’re…uh, going to share an apartment.”

Merlin grinned widely and tried to contain his glee. “That’s very smart of you two, saving expenses and keeping something familiar in an unfamiliar world.”

Emma stammered but Merlin pretended not to hear it. “Exactly, that’s what I said!”

“Emma!”

Mary Margaret Nolan’s voice broke their conversation as they turned to where the Mayor stood next to David Nolan and the Joneses. They waved her over with happy smiles.

“Right,” Emma waved back before turning back to him, her expression back to normal. “We’re all going to Granny’s to celebrate but we’ll see you around town this summer, right?”

“Of course!”

“See you, Mr. Emrys.”

Merlin watched as Emma joined the group and he waved as they all left together, lost in conversation. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nemo approaching.

“Looks like your plan worked.” He smirked at his friend without turning his head. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Nemo.”

Nemo chuckled with his arms crossed at his chest. “He’s like a new person, Merlin, so confident and expressive. Whatever magic you did, it worked.”

Merlin turned to Nemo and placed a hand on his shoulder. “All he needed was the opportunity, it was all already there.”

Nemo nodded, his eyes shining with pride. “I’m eager to see what will happen next.”

“Me too, me too.”

During the summer, Merlin managed to share a meal with Emma and Killian once before he had to go to England to help a friend of his. He took note of how comfortable they were around each other and how, more often than not, they seemed to be on the same wavelength.

He may have also noticed the way Emma would look at Killian when he spoke, her perpetual smile brightening her face. Or the way Killian turned his body towards Emma when she spoke, nodding his head in agreement. Their future looked bright.

---

8 Years Later

Another year, another graduation.

His tears darkened the fabric of his suit but Merlin didn’t care. He didn’t think he would ever stop getting emotional whenever he clapped as loud as he could for the latest batch of graduates.

The usual wave of congratulations and pride flooded him as he observed the crowd. Parents, family and teachers all together to celebrate their achievements.

“Mr. Emrys!”

He turned at the call of his name to see a tall dark-haired man holding a blonde woman’s hand approaching him. It was almost shameful how long it took him to recognise them - no more gangly limbs and shy countenance, no more ponytails and round face.

“Emma! Killian!” Merlin grinned happily, holding out his arms to accept their greeting hugs. “I’m so glad to see you here!”

“Well,” Emma grinned. “My little brother is graduating, of course I was going to be here!”

“What she’s not telling you is that she was hoping he would fall or trip on stage so she could record it-” Killian was interrupted by a half-hearted smack to his arm by an eye-rolling Emma.

“Whatever, he knows I’m proud of him.”

“And I see you two have grown up,” Merlin gestures towards them, noting their joined hands. “How has New York been treating you?”

“It’s been…” There was no disguising the contented smile on Emma's face. “Great. I made detective.”

“That’s fantastic!”

“Brightest detective in New York City.” The pride in Killian’s face was blinding and Emma’s face grew redder.

“And Killian just made partner!” Her rushed tone didn’t hide the pride in her voice.

It was the younger Jones’ turn to be bashful.

“What sort of firm?” Merlin asked.

“Nautical engineering, it’s really no big deal.” Killian explained as he scratched behind his ear.

“Right, he always says that but you should see the ships they design.”

“Emma…”

Merlin’s cheeks hurt from the wide smile on his face. “I’m very happy to hear that!”

They shared a smile and then what looked like a silent conversation before Killian nodded and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Actually, Mr. Emrys,” Emma started, licking her lips nervously. “We were hoping to ask you something.”

Merlin nodded promptly. “Anything.”

“Well,” Killian cleared his throat and pulled her that little bit closer to him. “There was another reason we are in Storybrooke this summer.”

“We’re getting married.” Emma finished with a smile.

Merlin thought he wouldn’t be surprised. He knew it was bound to happen - had heard from Liam how well his brother was adjusting to New York and how Emma had been a big reason for it, had seen a million pictures of the couple from Mary Margaret to have deduced their closer connection and had seen David sharing a drink with a nervous Killian at Granny’s a few months ago.

He thought he wouldn’t be surprised but the gasp still escaped his lips. “When? Where?”

Emma laughed. “We, hmm, we wanted to give you the invitation personally.” She evaded the questions as Killian took an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to him.

“It’s going to be a small affair,” Killian explained as Merlin opened the envelope and read the thick paper invitation inside. “Just family and close friends.”

“We know it’s in short notice,” Emma was right, the ceremony would be in a couple of days. “but we wanted to invite you in person because, well…”

It wasn’t often he saw Emma Nolan nervous. She had always been confident and sure but he guessed this was different from answering a wrong question in Math class.

“We heard that you officiated your friends’ wedding in England,'' Killian continued and Merlin could feel tears come up in his eyes. “So we were hoping you would officiate ours.”

Their smiles were hopeful and nervous and Merlin knew his answer even before they actually asked. “But me? W-Why?”

The couple shared a smile. “You brought us together, Mr. Emrys.” Killian shrugged.

“What?”

“Maybe that wasn’t your intention,” Emma explained. “But you sat us together. You knew that we would help each other and maybe you didn’t plan for us to move to New York together or get closer but,” She shrugged with a smile. “That’s what happened.”

“And we knew we wanted you to be a part of our special day,” Killian continued. “We probably wouldn’t be here today if not for you.”

“What do you say, Mr. Emrys?”

“I say,” Merlin tried to contain his emotions but really, it had been an emotional day already. “That if I’m going to pronounce you husband and wife, you have to start calling me Merlin.”

An emotional day, indeed. They teared up as they hugged each other. They didn’t give him too much notice but had he made any plans, he would gladly cancel. Luckily, he already had a suit.

---

Despite his secondary role in the ceremony, Merlin had the best seat in the place.

From where he stood, he could see every happy face in the crowd - some faces he recognised from town, others, he learned, had traveled from New York to watch their friends get married. He could see the beautiful turquoise decoration on the chairs and corsages. The happy tears in Mary Margaret’s face as she sat in the front row.

Apparently appointed as a tissue assistant, Belle sat next to the Mayor, her gold wedding band shining in the summer sun. Ruby stood to his left side, excited to perform her duties as maid of honor, her matching gold band complimenting her turquoise dress. He had heard from the titular Granny of how Belle and Ruby decided to elope - how they had sequestered herself and Moe French into their car under the guise of a furniture emergency and drove them to the court house. Granny tells him how she should have guessed what they would do by the fact that their children were wearing clothes that didn’t quite suit a trip to the mall.

Liam stood to his left in a matching turquoise tie, with a calm hand at Killian’s shoulder who had none of his brother’s calm. The younger Jones’ leg wouldn’t stop fidgeting and he was sure he had seen him “fix” his tie or hair at least a hundred times.

The ceremony had been set up at the lake near the Nolan’s farm. Aside from the dozen decorated white chairs, the only other piece of decoration was a flower arch happily supplied by “Game of Thorns”. Leo Nolan made his way down the aisle first, a scowl hiding his look of pride as he scattered blue and green petals on the grass. Every flick of his hand earned him a chuckle from his family and boyfriend. The wedding rings, he knew, were safely tucked into Leo’s coat pocket.

It was simple, peaceful, and beautiful. It was them.

From where he stood, Merlin watched as everyone turned to the farmhouse when the music began to play. He heard the gasp from the crowd as Emma made her way to the altar with her father by her side. He watched as Killian’s whole demeanor calmed when he set eyes on his bride and the way Belle had to replenish the tissue supply at Mary Margaret’s tears.

And Emma was a vision.

They had chosen the perfect day - the sun was bright and warm, the breeze from the covered area made the temperature bearable. The short train of the lace dress was stained brown from the walk in the forest but she didn’t seem to care. Her eyes were on Killian as she held her father’s arm with one hand and a turquoise bouquet on the other.

Later, Merlin wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what he had said - had memorized a speech full of meaningful words for the happy couple. All he remembered was the looks of love and pride and pure happiness in front of him. All he remembered was the way the two of them stuttered through their vows, words of devotion, promise and adoration. The way their hands shook as they placed the rings on their lover’s finger. The way they kissed like no one was watching under the loud whoops and clapping from the audience.

His tears weren’t only reserved for graduation day - Merlin wondered how many pictures of the ceremony had his crying face marring the background. The one he chose to frame for his living room wasn’t too bad but his red eyes went unnoticed in the face of such happy smiles.

#carolina writes #matchmaking #high school #merlin does a little magic trick #one shot #but maybe more?#if yall like it #captainswan #cs ff #ouat ff

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welllpthisishappening · 2 years ago

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A Few Days Off For Christmas, Part 3

Matt stood up straighter. Out of habit, and he kissed Claire’s cheek before he moved. Darting up the steps without a single skid, arms wrapped tightly around Mom’s middle.

The whole thing was ridiculous, really.

He’d seen his parents like—well, two days before, actually. About three hours and forty-seven minutes after he’d missed that wide-open net, and Dad hadn’t said anything, which was far nicer than Matt deserved considering how wide-open it was, but all of that seemed to disappear the second he walked into the foyer and, suddenly, he was ten years old and plotting ways to score during an indoor hockey game that was far more dangerous than any of the adult figures in his life would ever admit to, and it was strange to be ten years old and worried about his girlfriend coming to Christmas dinner.

And breakfast. They’d eat breakfast too

-----

Read the whole thing on Ao3

Hi, it's me. I wrote this literally years ago.

There's actually some CS in this, a whole buncha next-gen Blue Line nonsense, and a stressed-out Roland Locksley. I hope you all get to eat as much of your favorite holiday side dish as possible.

Go Rangers.

#cs ff #cs fic #blue line one shots #BLAST FROM THE PAST TAGS #immma be 72 years old and still thinking about next gen blue line plots

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snowbellewells · 2 years ago

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Self Promo Sunday: "We Gather Together (Glad for the Blessings)"

This week's rerun is another little Thanksgiving one shot, meant to be taking place somewhere at the end of Season 6. I realize that Thanksgiving was over on Thursday, but I still wanted to share the little offerings I had for this sometimes overlooked holiday. I feel like it would be a very special and important holiday for both Emma and Killian - seeing as it's so much about family and togetherness with those you love, and both of them lived without that for so long.

Anyway, this is divergent from canon due to Robin's being alive and Belle not taking Rumple back, but otherwise I think it pretty much could have happened. Hope you all had a wonderful holiday yourselves, and that you enjoy this small story to celebrate the occasion!

** Also available on AO3 or ff.net (if that's your preference)***

Summary: A bit of Thanksgiving fluff - and a lovely, quiet moment for the whole Charming-Jones-Mills family count their blessings and rejoice in how far they've come

by: @snowbellewells

Barreling into the kitchen calling out "Henry?! Killian?!", Emma Swan was already well into panic mode due to the charred, burning smell that had reached her nostrils as soon as she'd mounted the steps to the front porch and the plumes of gray smoke wafting into her vision in the entryway once she opened the door. She was skidding to a stop at the kitchen table before she realized that, though the fire alarm had been bleating raucously, there were no sounds of panic or yells of dismay. Instead, both of her True Loves were now frozen, looking to her guiltily like they’d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Killian was bent over the open stove, and Henry had his arm outstretched, fanning the air with a hot pad. They appeared to have been happy as clams until her sudden entrance..

Clearly they weren't in any immediate danger, and Emma's posture relaxed upon seeing that the house wasn't burning down and neither her son nor her pirate was blackened to a crisp. Shaking her head at them both, she genuinely tried to look stern instead of relieved and ready to burst out laughing. Crossing her arms, she mused aloud, "Do I even want to know what the two of you are doing?"

Sighing in defeat, Killian stood to his full height, letting the oven door bang closed and not quite meeting her reproving gaze as he raked a hand through his hair. He darted a quick glance at Henry, then finally answered her question. "We were trying to help you, Swan. It seemed prudent to get started with the main course before hosting your entire family tomorrow, and the lad felt sure he could offer guidance on the proceedings."

Henry flushed as Killian gestured toward him, and shrugged sheepishly, looking up at her with big brown eyes that, though in an older face, still proved as irresistible to her as when he'd showed up on her doorstep as a ten-year-old. "I may have overestimated how closely I was watching my other mom the last time she did this."

Emma couldn't help it; her metabolism did tick up a few notches and her eyes widened in shocked dismay. "Oh no, don't tell me… Do you mean to say you guys ruined that 19 pound Butterball I had all ready in the freezer?"

Killian winced a bit at her reaction. "Come now, Lass, it isn't as if we did it on purpose. You were just saying last night how you wanted everything to be perfect, you've never been able to celebrate a real family Thanksgiving with all the trimmings before, and everything should be just right. We only wished to help you along."

Emma gave an exaggerated nod as she responded, "Ah, I see," before a knowing light slipped into her eyes while studying one and then the other to see who would crack first. "Just selfless action from the good of your hearts, was it?"

Henry nodded, pulling off a ridiculously innocent look, but Killian couldn't quite meet her gaze, peeking up at her from beneath the fringe of his dark hair and eyelashes like a poor, repentant rascal. "Well, Swan, if the truth be told, we might have become a bit distracted…"

"I thought so," she affirmed with one last quick, triumphant dip of the head.

"Yes, well," Killian hemmed and hawed adorably, and Emma was almost afraid she might bite through her lip trying not to laugh out loud. The whole kitchen mishap was already long forgiven, but watching him stutter in embarrassment like he often caused her to do was too priceless to end just yet. "Love, your boy's moving picture box sucks a man in with its programs. Are you sure it doesn't possess some sort of hypnotic magic of its own? Perhaps we should not let Henry…"

"Okay, okay, hold up," Henry broke in anxiously, not about to see his stepdad - much as he might love him - relegate him back to the Stone Age with concern over modern technology.

Emma couldn't hold back her dissolution into helpless giggles any longer, and Killian stopped short with an affronted look at the noisy interruption from both of them at once. After a few moments, Emma reined in her laughter, assured Henry he wouldn't be losing all television privileges, and turned with the both of them to survey the wreck that had been her nice, clean kitchen when she'd left that morning. "Well boys, let's see what we can salvage," she said at last.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

In the end, the turkey is magicked to golden brown perfection for the holiday meal. Emma had hoped to succeed at doing it the old fashioned way, but after seeing the damage Killian and Henry had wrought with their attempt – and though she only admitted it to herself, knowing either one of them was better in the kitchen than she was, when not unfortunately sidetracked – she decided there was no sense in further risking the main course she intended to serve to company.

She, Killian, and Henry did spend a warm, domestic, evening making the accompanying side dishes together. After placing a tray of butterhorn rolls in the oven to cook, Emma turned to see Henry flip a spoonful of cranberry sauce at Killian, hitting him square on the nose and making him jerk back in surprise at the splat of impact.

"Hey now," her pirate warned, glowering as he raised a spoonful of stuffing for a counterattack.

Emma thought idly that she should be warning them not to waste food, not to destroy their kitchen for a second time in one day, and basically chide them both to behave themselves, but instead she could merely watch as author and pirate mounted a giddy food fight she eventually joined, hugging herself tightly so she didn't simply burst with the joy swelling up inside her, so full of gratitude for both of them, for a home and family at last, and for this moment in which to enjoy it all. Thanksgiving, indeed.

That night when Henry had settled into his own room and the house had grown quiet, Emma stopped Killian as he left the bathroom after brushing his teeth, biting her lip at the all-too-inviting sight of him in dark blue lounge pants with little white anchors printed on them that he wore for sleep and all that dark hair on his toned and scarred chest. He looked upon her with a curious quirk to his brow, but didn't question her, only wrapped his arms around her waist and brought his forehead to rest against her own.

Enveloped in his warmth, Emma grew almost dizzy at the minty fresh breath he exhaled against her neck and nearly lost her train of thought altogether, but she pulled out the item she had intended to show him. It was the wishbone from their turkey, and she held it out for him to see. "Do you know what this is?"

"Aye," Killian answered, though she could tell by his expression he had no clue why she would draw his attention to it. "It's some part of that fowl we prepared for tomorrow's feast, but why…"

He trailed off when she twined the fingers of her free hand with his and brought his hand up to grip the opposite end of the wishbone from the one she held. "They're for wishing on," she explained briefly, playful mirth in her eyes. "People pull them apart and whoever gets the larger piece makes a wish that is then supposed to come true."

"Alright Lass, if you say so," he agreed gamely, a bit of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth now as well.

Holding her breath, Emma thought of all the times she had wanted to do this as a kid and had never been the one who got the wishbone. Or all the times as an adult that she'd had it, but no one in her empty apartment to hold the other end, or to appreciate the wish she'd made, nor share in her joy if it did come to fruition. As the fragile bone snapped and they looked down to the pieces in their hands, Emma and Killian found it had broken almost evenly, and so she whispered, not wanting to break the calm stillness in the room, "Let's say we both wish…together."

Killian merely nodded and closed his eyes as she did. When she opened them again, it was to meet his blue, blue gaze shining back at her. She had the feeling they'd wished for the exact same thing…many more years of holidays like this.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

The blessed feeling carried over to the family dinner the next day. Sitting at the head of the long table in the dining room of a home of her very own – hers, Henry's and Killian's – the first time she'd ever had such a thing, Emma felt as though the whole scene was bathed in some sort of golden light, like she was living inside a perfect Norman Rockwell painting. The table surface was packed, crammed, overloaded with food – from the golden brown, crisp-skinned, turkey and their perfectly toasted, flaky butterhorns to Regina's apple dumplings, green beans, noodles, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. The ten-year-old foster child inside her nearly drools at the bounty, never quite able to banish the breakfasts, lunches, and dinners missed, the times she had sat alone in some cafeteria, eyes fixed on the food other students carelessly tossed in the bins which she would have loved to have while she had been packed nothing to eat and had no money to buy even a carton of milk, of the times she had gone to bed in a rickety bunk, stomach growling and unable to stop fixating on those cabinets full of snacks that were off limits. Seeing Henry to her right, Emma ruffled his hair affectionately for just a second before he turned to grin at her proudly. He was clearly as pleased as she was that their time spent cooking the previous evening had given them this much to show for it. Moreover, she could only rejoice that he had never known the lonely, starving days she had, and the fact that neither she nor Killian ever would again.

She gave her father a nod of confirmation where he sat at the other end of the table, leading him to grin widely, the warm look of love and happiness on his face making her feel even more that this moment really was all she had been missing – all she had ever wanted – all those years she spent alone. As David stood to carve the turkey and Snow alternated between beaming up at her husband proudly and passing the plates now loaded up with juicy slices of turkey down the table, Emma squeezed Killian's hand with her left, and he cut a knowing glance at her, showing clearly that he understood and felt it too.

Beside Henry sat Belle, then Snow, and across from Henry were Regina, Robin, and Roland. It would seem that their family continued to grow and warmly open to welcome into its circle anyone with nowhere else to belong on this day meant to be spent with loved ones. As she had wished for that very thing each holiday season for 28 years, Emma could think of no better nor more heroic thing for her family to do.

Once everyone had been served – both turkey and all the other dishes filling the long table – Killian stood with raised glass, even as Emma tapped her spoon against her own to garner everyone's attention for him. "A toast, mates, if I may," Killian announced jovially in that rich, enticing voice. Emma shivered slightly at the way its tones thrilled through her, though trying to give no outward sign; she would gladly listen to him read the ingredients of the box for the stuffing, but she knew everyone else was hungry and ready to dig in, so her heart swelled just that much more when the others around their table dutifully paused and turned to listen to him with genuine interest and agreement.

"I daresay I shan't keep us from this delectable feast for long," her pirate intoned, "but I have more to be grateful for this year than I have ever possessed in my ridiculously long life, and my thanks must be offered…"

He paused, meeting the eyes of each of those gathered around the table briefly, and then continued with a fervent tone which came out sounding a bit choked with emotion. "When I first arrived in this realm, still lost in my bitterness, anger, and thirst for revenge, I could not have imagined a day like this, full of peace, love, and gratitude. Emma, Love, when you offered me the chance to join you and be a part of something, and we undertook that desperate quest to Neverland, the idea that we could come to belong to each other as we do now, that you would hold my heart in your very palm, or that I would find myself with a true family again, seemed inconceivable. Yet, I am so glad you gave me that last chance, like a line thrown in the drink to a drowning man. It saved my life, turned me back around to the man I once meant to be. My thankfulness to be here with all of you today cannot be adequately expressed." He swallowed hard, dipped his head, and then took his seat again. "You have all blessed us with your presence at our table."

"Cheers!" everyone else agreed, raising their glasses to clink with each other around the table, several other eyes misty and voices husky with feeling besides their captain's. Emma blinked quite a bit herself, glancing around at their motley crew.

Her fingers reached across to trail lightly over Killian's shoulder, stroking his back soothingly for a few moments and then rising to delve playfully into the dark hair at the nape of his neck. Brushing gently through the soft strands, Emma smiled affectionately as his head inclined slightly toward her, thinking humorously that if he were a cat, her sailor would be nearly purring in contentment right now. This moment deserved to be captured – preserved – in her mind forever; she couldn't feel any more stuffed with grateful satisfaction.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

It was nearly midnight when the last of their guests had been seen to the door and out into the chilly dark of Storybrooke's nighttime streets. Henry had gone with Regina; they had a tradition of shopping, followed by decorating the mayor's mansion for Christmas, and then capping the evening off with homemade apple turnovers running over with icing on their day after Thanksgiving. Emma marveled at Henry's blithely forgiving ability to still eat the things with relish after nearly dying from one bit of just such a poisoned pastry also made by Regina long ago. Still, she couldn't deny she was also glad to have her pirate to herself this night – a true quiet moment for the two of them.

They were curled around each other on the couch in the living room, watching flames crackle merrily in the fireplace, feet up on the coffee table, each of them enjoying a sweet taste of leftover pumpkin pie.

"Open up, Darling," Killian urged, fork upraised to her lips with a piece of sticky filling and flaky crust adorned with the sweet white topping she loved. Emma really didn't need him to feed her, but she playfully went along with his gesture and hummed in pleasure when the flavors exploded on her tongue.

"Mhmm, really good," she mumbled, her mouth still full, but nodding her head and moving to get a piece on her own fork and return the favor for him.

Killian's deep, reverberating chuckle stopped her though, and he leaned forward just enough to wrap his lips around the tip of her nose, licking off the bit of whipped cream he'd gotten on her moments before. It was a mostly innocent gesture, but his proximity, the warmth of the near kiss, and the fact that they were truly – finally – alone, relaxed, and had nowhere else to be, had her heart hammering triple time as she sat up quickly, unfolded her legs and pulled him up with her.

"Come on, Pirate," she spoke a little breathlessly, a devilish gleam in her eyes, "we can finish this later."

It didn't take him long to catch on and follow her eagerly, still chuckling with his hand in hers, as she picked up the can of whipped cream from the coffee table where she'd placed it earlier and hurriedly pulled him upstairs.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @stahlop @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @xsajx @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @kazoosandfannypacks @booksteaandtoomuchtv @anmylica @bdevereaux @motherkatereloyshipper @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @winterbaby89 @jonesfandomfanatic @lfh1226-linda @bluewildcatfanatic

#self promo sunday #ouat thanksgiving one shot #cs one shot ff #post s6 canon divergent #we gather together (glad for the blessings)#thanksgiving one shot #holiday fluff fic

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myfearless-love · 2 months ago

Text

Tell Me Where You Are - CS one-shot

Relationship: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Characters: Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones

Additional Tags: Captain Swan - Freeform, Modern AU, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Agent Emma, Agent Killian, Injury

Summary: In which Killian loses his way in the darkness, and Emma stubbornly helps him find something worth seeing.

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)

#captain swan #cs #killian jones #emma swan #cs ff #ouat #emma x killian #captain hook #once upon a time #ouat ff #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #niki writes #modern au #hurt/comfort #cs one shot

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thejollyroger-writer · 3 years ago

Text

for the hope of it all

A soft Captain Swan regency AU.

13k. One-shot. Rated G.

Read on AO3.

The first time Killian Jones fell in love, he was sixteen. It happened slowly, not like the books made it seem. One day, he looked up from his novel, across the bustle of the library’s study room, and realized that his heart pounded a little faster than usual as he glanced at Milah Shelley, who he had known since he was twelve. As he looked at her, mouth slightly agape, she raised her eyes, searching the room for something — and met his gaze.

Smiled.

And that was all it took. The remainder of Killian’s school years were spent with her by his side, ignoring the duties his father reminded him of every time he had the chance, every time he returned home. On multiple occasions, Killian wanted so badly to speak the words that floated to the forefront of his mind every time his father spoke.

I never wanted to be Prince.

To hell with your kingdom.

None of the words ever came, not when his father was around. Liam, his brother and closest confidant, heard them all the time. Liam was older, he was wiser — and he was technically the heir to the throne of Swanvail, not Killian. Liam made sure their father never had reason to doubt his own desire to rule, never had reason to place the future of the kingdom on his younger son.

Milah would never let him speak of those desires, though. That should have been the first clue. Every time Killian spoke of leaving Swanvail, abandoning his throne, Milah assured him that they could do it together, that they could rule together, even though ruling was the last thing he wanted.

She had to have understood Killian’s feelings, had to have known that he would never succumb to his father’s desires and take his place, even at the right hand of his brother. He made himself clear on multiple occasions, constantly telling her that he was not made to be a ruler, that all of his dreams revolved around getting out of Swanvail.

She had to have understood, because she left him. She left him with a kiss on the cheek and a letter of apology in his hands as she boarded the train to Agrabah, to her new life, a life that he was no longer a part of. As difficult as long-distance would be, he loved her enough to try it. He thought he was simply walking with her to her train, only to be left blindsided, choking back sobs on the train station platform.

Killian Jones was nineteen the first time his heart was broken. He returned home a hardened version of himself only to learn that his mother, the tether that kept him in Swanvail, had passed while he was away. And he vowed to never let his heart get broken again.

For three years, he was successful. He hid himself away in his father’s vast library, dedicated himself to the work handed to him by his father and brother. For three years, he rarely left the grounds of the estate, rarely came in contact with someone who did not live with him, and waited for the day his first commission would come from his father’s Navy, a commission beside his brother. A chance to leave Swanvail and never return.

And then, he saw her for the first time. At twenty-two, heart hardened from grief and loss, he fell in love for the second time. This time, it happened in a way that he did not think was possible, the way the books he read in secret all described it: all at once, as if he was hit by a train. He did not know her name, had never seen her before, but he knew the very first time he saw her walking among the gardens that his mother used to love that his life would never be the same.

He has never seen someone as beautiful as her, has never known that someone could be as beautiful as she is, her blonde curls piled high atop her head as she moves through his mother’s maze of flowers. Breath hitched in his chest, his ribs feel as if they squeezed tighter around his heart and lungs, his whole body seemingly reacting to the sight of her.

But none of that holds a candle to his surprise a few hours later when that same angel appears before him once more, this time with her hair braided down her back — carrying his dinner up from the kitchens. A servant. Working in his house, enduring the terrible way the rest of his household treats hired help.

She wasn’t wearing the regular black-dress-and-apron attire that is required of servants of the Swanvail household when he saw her in the gardens… was she? He remembers every detail about it — the sun beating on the back of his neck as he looked up from the book perched on his lap, the smell of his mother’s honeysuckle bush behind him. But, more than anything else, he remembers the way he could swear his heart stopped pounding for a moment, legitimately skipped a beat, just as the stories said it could. Pulling that memory to the forefront of his mind, he knows he would not have missed a clue like that — and he didn’t, noticing in his memory her pale pink dress as she walked through his mother’s garden.

His mother.

He misses his mother more in this moment than he has in years, wishing she was here to be another smiling face in the King of Swanvail’s palace. Killian knows the only thing that separates him from the servants is his privilege, his father's bloodline — a thought his mother would never let him forget in his younger years, and an idea that he knows his father’s new wife never shared with her daughters.

And his worst fears come true that night at dinner, the older of the Mills girls, Zelena, not even waiting for the new servant to place her plate in front of her before the first rude comment.

“And who the hell are you?”

“Zelena,” her mother snaps, straightening her napkin over the top of her legs. “Watch your language at the dinner table. I told you we were getting new help.”

“No, you didn’t!”

Cora smiles softly but does not try to hide her eye roll. “Yes, dear, I did.”

“You may have told them, Cora, but you certainly didn’t tell me,” King Brennan mumbles, his glaring gaze following the new servant around the room.

“You didn’t tell us!” Zelena says again, and Cora holds her perfectly-manicured hands up in front of her, stopping any further comments.

“”My apologies, then,” she spits, absolutely nothing apologetic in her voice. “Mary Nolan is the new head of household,” she says, gesturing towards the middle-aged woman ladling soup into Brennan’s bowl. “And that’s her daughter.”

Killian raises his eyebrows in anticipation for her name, but it never comes.

Zelena huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, you’re supposed to serve the king first.” She looks down at the plate that was just set in front of her. “Plus apparently no one told you that I refuse to eat meat.”

“Our apologies, ma’am,” Mary, the mother, says, moving around the table to serve Killian, who offers her the sweetest smile he can. “I will remember that for the next meal.”

“Well, what am I supposed to eat tonight?”

“For God’s sake, Zelena, just eat what you’re given,” Brennan says, patience growing thin.

The elder Mills girl scoffs. “But I don’t eat—”

“Put the meat on your sister’s plate. I’m sure Regina would be more than willing to trade you for some of her potatoes.”

The look on Regina’s face tells Killian that sharing her potatoes is the last thing she wants to do, but the look disappears immediately and she just nods.

For all the bad that Cora and Zelena emit, Regina seems to be the most docile of them all. She chides with her sister sometimes, though he can sense that she usually takes part simply for the acceptance of Zelena and not because she necessarily agrees with the way her sister acts, or with the harsh comments she makes towards others in public. Silently, she slides her plate towards Zelena, who drops her hunk of chicken on top of it before scooping all but a single mouthful of Regina’s potatoes onto her plate.

“Thanks, sis,” Zelena says with a smile, though there is nothing thankful in the look. “You’re older than the heads of household we always had back home,” Zelena comments, turning to face Mary as she ladles soup into Regina’s bowl.

It takes everything in Killian not to cover his face with the palm of his hand.

But Mary simply nods, humming in response.

“I was also worried about her age, I won’t deny it,” Cora comments, taking the first bite of her food even though Killian hasn’t been served yet. “But we had so few candidates that I practically had no choice.”

Mary’s lips form a tight line, and it becomes increasingly obvious to Killian that she desperately wants to respond.

But she does not.

“Hopefully she stays longer than the last one,” Brennan replies, speaking as if Mary is no longer in the room.

It’s no wonder we can’t keep help, Killian thinks to himself, but he knows better than to speak the thought aloud.

“Thank you,” Cora says after everything has been served, Mary standing beside her daughter in front of the entrance to the kitchen. “You are dismissed.”

And just like that, they disappear together through the doors.

It takes him a week to move past simply smiling at her, finally daring to ask her name.

Her first response is shock, bright green eyes wide when they turn in his direction. It’s a casual question, simple conversation made since they were both walking in the same direction, but he can tell she is taken aback by it, used to the cold way that the rest of his household treats the staff. Still, she manages a smile, resting her basket of laundry on her hip with a small bow, though she continues to walk down the hallway beside him. "Emma, my lord. Emma Nolan-Blanchard."

Hearing her address him as such almost makes him want to laugh, an awful sound he has to stop from coming out through his nose, and he coughs it away. "I — haven't seen you around here before, until just a few days ago. How did you end up here?"

"My mother was hired as the new head of household."

He smiles — and, thankfully, she returns it. “Yes, I know that.”

Still, her cheeks begin to turn a dark shade of red. “My apologies, your highness, but I would rather not share that.”

He nods, wishing he hadn’t crossed the line so quickly, and decides not to try any harder. "Well, Emma Nolan-Blanchard, it's been a pleasure to talk to you. If there is anything you ever need, please let me know."

She bows again, pairing it with another smile. Killian's breath hitches in his chest and — he can't help himself — he raises his right hand to tug on the lobe of his ear. If Liam were to find him here, no doubt blushing like a fool in the middle of the hallway, he would never hear the end of it.

And if his father were to find him here, this could turn out to be the last time he ever spoke to Emma. "Thank you, sir."

He has to get out of here. He can't be caught with her, can't be caught even talking to her, especially in the middle of the hallway.

"Thank you, Miss Bl — Blanchard — Miss Nolan… Blanchard." He has to be bright red, stumbling over her name and stumbling the opposite direction down the hallway away from her.

A few weeks pass quietly, a soft smile shared in the hallway or the dining room, sometimes a small conversation in the garden, the sun reflecting in her shining hair, making the sparkling green of her eyes even brighter. It’s his favorite spot on their vast property, no doubt because his mother would bring him here all the time as a child, and recently the avoidance of it by the rest of his household made it the perfect spot to have a moment to himself.

Liam is the only other person who visits the gardens, and when he returns from his latest journey, he begins to join Killian there when they both have free time. The soft sunshine of their country is vastly different from the stark cold that Liam experienced during his visit to Arendelle, hit hard by this year’s winter — though it wasn’t all bad, he can attest, as he came home an engaged man. Not to the Queen of Arendelle, Elsa, as their father had hoped, but to her good friend, Belle, who had been staying with them.

(He shared with Killian that breaking the news to their father did not go over too well, words yelled and spat at each other across the breakfast table: “I sent you there to come back with a Queen, or at least a Princess! Instead you come back with some… some… common girl!” “She’s far from a common girl! Her father is a Baron, and newly-appointed Advisor to the King.” “And what does that get you? Nothing!” “I love her, father, that’s far from nothing!”)

Killian would prefer his brother to be by his side always, still longing for the day when their father approves his first trip with the Navy — except perhaps today, when Emma approaches him in the garden only to notice too late that he is no longer alone.

“My apologies, my lords, I didn’t mean to intrude,” she says quickly, turning on her heel to disappear between the bushes before either of them even get the chance to speak.

"Who was that?" Liam asks, no doubt taking in the darkening redness of Killian’s cheeks, no matter how hard he tries to make it stop.

"What?" he says, perhaps a little too quickly, turning on his heel to face his brother. "Who?"

Liam laughs, wrapping his arm around Killian's shoulders. "Yes, little brother, who?"

"Oh, uh," he mumbles, unable to stop his damned hand from tugging at his earlobe. "Her — her name is Emma. She and her family are new here. Servants."

He chuckles again. “Yes, I figured that much from her outfit.”

“Yeah, I guess you — I guess that’s true.”

"And you're absolutely smitten with her."

"Wh-what?" He has to be as dark as his mother’s dahlias. "Of course not, Liam, she's—"

"Beautiful, for one."

"Huh?"

"Oh, come on. Just because I'm engaged doesn't mean I can't notice when another woman is beautiful. And you, Killy, also believe her to be beautiful."

"No, no, come on, I —"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's about time you had a crush." Liam musses Killian's hair, then turns away from him with a laugh.

"Liam!" he cries, but his brother continues down the path toward the palace.

A chill runs through his heart, remembering the last crush he had: Milah. Seventeen year old Killian was sure he was going to marry her — this is nothing like that, he tells himself.

It's been one month, two weeks, and four days since the first time Killian saw her when he finally works up the nerve and asks her to picnic with him on her day off. With a soft blush rising to her soft cheeks, she agrees. The sandwiches he makes for them are nothing exciting, but there is something between the turkey and slices of apple, something in the slices of cake he snuck out of the kitchen, that leads her to taking the first steps of opening her heart again, of letting someone in despite all the pain and hurt that fills her past.

A hope that her future will be a little brighter.

That was why she and her mother moved to Swanvail, wasn’t it? In hopes of finding a new hope, building a new life away from the pain painted across every inch of Misthaven, land that only reminds them of Emma's heartbreak and the loss of her father.

It's been two months, three weeks, and five days since the day Killian first saw her in the garden — and four secret dates — when he kisses her for the first time. Her lips, like the rest of her, are soft and warm and welcoming and he would be happy if he was only wrapped in that warmth for the rest of his life.

Two days later, his first commission comes. It’s something that he’s been looking forward to for years, that fancy parchment with the Royal Navy seal holding it closed, but when he sees it sitting on the table when he comes down to breakfast, his heart sinks. He has always wanted a way to leave Swanvail, knowing his father would never let him just leave — You have a duty to attend to, Killian — but the bubble of happiness that he had been floating in, remembering the press of her lips against his on their secret picnic blanket, pops.

If it’s all he has ever wanted, why does he suddenly regret it so much?

It's only a few weeks, sailing with Admiral Nemo to some diplomatic meeting in DunBroch. Sure, he returns quickly, but he spends every moment wishing he was at home, remembering the soft feel of Emma's skin beneath his fingertips, the twinkling of her laugh and the way her hair shines in the moonlight — and, when he lays awake in his bunk, he even allows himself to remember the perfect caress of her lips against his.

It takes everything in him not to run into her arms the moment his feet are back on his own soil. He has his own royal duties, responsibilities that require his attention, a princely to-do list. But all he wants to do is feel her lips against hers once more, to have the soft skin of her fingers held in his again, the tickle of her hair against his face when they embrace.

Mary Margaret Blanchard, Emma’s mother, only puts up with the disrespect of Queen Cora and her daughters for three months, handing in her resignation the same week that Prince Killian leaves for DunBroch. But Emma chooses to stay.

She doesn’t tell her mother why, unable to say that she has fallen hard for the younger Prince of Swanvail, and while she has suffered from the same cruelty from the queen as her mother, most of her interactions with the younger princess have been tame. They are practically the same age — maybe that is a factor — and, Emma notices, Princess Regina seems to be a lot nicer when her mother is not around. Zelena, the older one, was a different story, but Emma has been mostly successful in avoiding her, plus years of holding her tongue around others and putting up walls to keep herself from hurt seem to have been the perfect training for her time in the Swanvail palace.

Prince Liam’s fiancee, Belle French, is a factor, too. The queen and the princess do not even try to hide their hatred of the girl, doing their best to make her feel unwelcome in their lives, yet she has nothing but niceties and smiles for them.

Lady French and Emma strike up a fast friendship, which makes the weeks Killian is away on his commission almost bearable. Lady French— Belle, she insists on being called, even around the rest of the household, which Emma certainly does not do — is sweet enough to make up for all the sour she finds around every turn of the estate. They have shared interests in books, baking, and the brothers Jones, Emma confides in her one night over a bottle of wine and a chocolate banana cake that they made together.

That seems to be one of the only perks of both being hated by the other members of the household: no one seems to pay attention to them, making it all the easier for them to spend time together.

The day Killian returns home, her heart pounds in her chest. She tries to distract herself with her work, knowing that he has his own responsibilities to attend to before he is free to see her again, but that does not make it any easier. But she knows how his schedule works, knows that he will spend the last hours of his work day in the library, so that is where she waits for him.

She is curled up on the chaise lounge by the fireplace, a blanket spread across her legs and a book sitting in her lap. At first, he doesn't even notice her there, silent in the corner, but she watches the way he hunches over the desk, the way he cards his fingers through his almost-too-long dark hair, sighing as he pulls on some of the back strands.

A half hour passes, and she can no longer help herself: she sets down her cold cup of tea and places a mark between the pages of her book, unwrapping herself from the plush blanket. “Killian,” she whispers, pushing herself off the small couch.

His head snaps up, eyes wide as they try to adjust to the growing darkness of the library. “Who’s there?”

Emma chuckles, continuing to move closer to him. “Killian, it’s alright, it’s just me.”

Even in the darkness, she can see his eyes brighten as a smile spreads across his face. “Emma,” he whispers, and it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

Within moments, they are in each other’s arms once more, taking advantage of the silence of the library. Her lips are as soft and warm as he can remember, but there is something more, something that wasn’t there before he left for DunBroch, a hunger that he immediately desires to give in to.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” he whispers, refusing to pull his lips away from hers, his hands tangled in her hair.

“I’ve been in here for hours and you’re the only person that came in.”

This causes him to pause for a moment, resting his forehead against hers as her thumb caresses his cheek, before pulling her mouth back to his.

“I missed you so much, love. So damn much.”

Their relationship continues like this, weeks turning to months, depending on stolen kisses when they know no one else is around, secret moments on their shared days off. For his twenty-third birthday, Liam finds him a small apartment not far from the palace, a place where he can have some much-needed freedom.

A place where he and Emma can truly, finally, be alone. Where they can do whatever they want.

Whatever they want.

Killian doesn’t give in to the temptation, though. Emma still has her duties in the palace and can’t spend as much time with him as she wants — not to mention the hard walls that she built around her heart, layer after layer thanks to men who have betrayed her trust. She knows Killian is not one of them, has learned that everything about him is pure and good — and perhaps his ability to be with her but allow her the time and space she needs only proves this.

They fall into a rhythm once more, between Killian’s days at the palace and Emma’s days off, continuing to learn about the other.

And they are happy, content in the little relationship that they’ve created together.

But it's too good to be true. Of course it's too good to be true — just like everything else the two of them have gone through, life can never be easy.

This time, he at least has a few weeks' notice before he has to leave, but he will be gone for a few months. Nine, actually, sailing with his brother and the Navy to Camelot and staying in the court until tensions between neighboring nations decline. Somehow, the three weeks before he leaves fly by, every moment spent with Emma passes in the mere blink of an eye. Stolen kisses, shared meals, even a night out to the theatre, but none of it is enough.

And then, all too soon, it is the last night. In the morning, Killian will board a ship and be gone for longer than they have known each other. They can write letters — promise to do so — but with Killian across continents, oceans, and Emma in a household that abhors her, especially with speculation of her relationship with the younger prince — there is no promise that their letters will get delivered.

He leaves in the morning. The weight of the thought hangs over them as they walk through the gardens, heading back towards Killian’s apartment.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispers, her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t want to go, either, love,” he mumbles back, turning his head to kiss her hair, but she reaches up to rest her hand against his cheek, to keep him from turning away, as she looks up at him.

“You’re going to come back to me, right?” This time, her words are even softer than before. He’s learned a little about Emma’s past, as much as she has chosen to tell him, and he understands a little too well how it feels to have your heart shattered at a young age.

“Of course I will, Emma,” he assures her, pausing for a moment before capturing her lips with his own.

Neither of them have spoken about this night, but somehow, they know that they’ve come to an unspoken agreement. They’ve both been waiting for this, not because Killian leaves in the morning, but because they both know, intuitively, what they want to happen.

“Emma, my love,” he breathes, sliding his body over hers. “Are you sure about this?” He knows how he feels, the thought of it coursing through every inch of his body, but he still needs to make sure they’re in agreement.

“God, yes,” she mutters, gripping his hair in her fist. Everything about it has been terrifying, falling in love with a prince, with a man who was technically her employer, even if she was two years older than him. She and her mother moved to Swanvail, took the position for the King, because they had both lost too much in Misthaven, and she never intended to get so attached.

But, simultaneously, she has never felt as sure about anything as she does about Killian Jones. Prince or no, every moment they have spent together has been real. He has never been anything but authentic with her, nothing but his true self, in a way no one has ever been around Emma.

So, yes. She has never been more sure about anything, has never wanted anything more than to spend the night with her prince, even if that night has to happen before he leaves for nine months.

It’s perfect, truly, in every way possible, finally being together like this, falling asleep wrapped around each other.

The only way it would be better would be if he didn’t have to be up with the sun, ready to depart much too soon. But that’s the reality that hits them when the sun peeks through the curtains. Saying goodbye is the hardest thing either of them have to do, especially with Emma staying in the apartment in his absence. From the moment he walks out the door, one last kiss lingering on her lips, the emptiness of it all washes over her.

And the emptiness grows with each day, the fact that he’s absent more and more obvious as she works in the halls of his father’s estate, walks on the same paths they frequented together, sleeps alone in the bed they shared one one perfect night. Each day feels emptier than the last, especially now that Belle, her only friend in the world, is the only soul in the palace who speaks kind words to her — and especially once Belle’s pregnancy begins to affect her physical health, confined to her bed.

It’s been eight weeks and three days since Killian left when Emma wakes up nauseous.

A stomach bug, she thinks. Maybe she ate something that didn’t sit right with her. But three days later, it still has not subsided.

The idea that it could be something more doesn’t come to her until later that day, as she is hanging laundry on the line outside the estate. The thought stops her in her tracks, the silk sheet falling from her fumbling fingers back into the basket at her feet. She forgets about the laundry immediately, abandoning the basket on the grass, and takes off through the empty hallways of the palace, searching for Belle — her only friend, the only person she can confide this thought (fear?) in.

“There’s no way,” she says, pacing beside Belle’s bed. “There’s not… No.”

“As in, it’s not possible?”

Emma’s cheeks redden with the question, deeper than the one set in by her running. “N-no,” she mumbles. “Not that, it’s — it’s possible. It’s just… it can’t be what this is.”

“Why not?”

“Do you have any idea how much of a scandal that would be? Cora would throw me out as soon as she caught word, and neither Killian or Liam are here to help me. I just— I don’t know what I would do.”

Belle shrugs, a sad smile passing over her features. “Well, I would start to figure it out, Emma, because from what you’ve told me, I think you’re pregnant.”

All too soon, there is nothing Emma can do but succumb to the same conclusion Belle came to. Two months without her monthly bleeding, plus too many days in a row where she is sick, not only in the morning, but usually throughout the day, as well.

And it’s not ten days longer until her worst nightmares come true.

“Miss Blanchard?” Cora says softly, knocking on the door of the kitchen where Emma stands alone behind the workstation, mixing the dough for bread. It’s not her job, of course — the King of Swanvail has a whole team of cooks and chefs — but it calms her, her nerves and her brain that never stops moving at a million miles a minute, especially over the last few weeks. The smile the Queen shares with her looks sincere enough, but Emma sees through her. In her almost ten months employed at this estate, the Queen has never, not once, called her by her name.

Her heart sinks immediately, her knuckles pounding into the dough. “Yes, ma’am?” she replies, voice caught in her throat. Cora steps through the doorway and Emma catches a glimpse of her two daughters out in the hallway, no doubt waiting for her life to fall apart.

Their entertainment for the week. She almost laughs at the thought of it, the two princesses watching this scene unfold before them as if it was a play.

“It seems you and I need to have a little… conversation.” She sits on one of the stools by the workstation, gesturing to the one beside her. “Please, come sit with me.”

Emma’s first thought is her dough on the counter. It needs to rest — and then she realizes just how fucked up that thought is, worrying about her bread dough when her life is about to be torn apart. Again. So, all she does is nod, wiping a strand of hair back into her bun and no doubt getting flour all over her face.

What a sight the two of them must be: the Queen, dressed in a stunning blue dress, every hair perfectly in place within her updo; and Emma, a measly servant, covered in flour and sweat, a tattered shirt and slacks, hair a tangled mess of flyaways.

“I’ve become aware of your… situation,” she says, her eyes falling to Emma’s stomach for a lingering moment. She fights the urge to place her hands where Cora’s eyes just were, knowing it would just make it worse. “Your relationship with the younger prince was revealed to me a while ago, but I thought the two of you would have been smart enough to not do something as stupid as, well… This.”

“What would you have me do, Your Grace?” Emma’s words seem to surprise the Queen as much as they surprise her. It’s obvious Cora — and her daughters, doing a terrible job of hiding on the other side of the doorway — expected a fight.

Emma refuses to give them what they want.

A beat passes, Cora no doubt working through the surprise of Emma’s response. “I see two courses of action. I could have my apothecary mix a tea for you and within a few days, your little problem will be… gone.”

Cora’s eyes fall to Emma’s stomach once more, and this time she does not fight the urge to use her hands as a barrier between the Queen’s gaze and the new life in her stomach. It was a thought that she entertained — for all of a few moments, before she realized that it was the last thing she wanted.

“Or?” Her voice is much smaller than she intended; it frightens her a bit.

A beat passes, Cora meeting her eyes. “Or you can leave. Pack your things and move on from Swanvail, from the prince, while he is away.”

“May I ask why?”

Cora breathes a laugh. “Nothing awaits you here but scandal, dear. It would be best for everyone for you to leave before word gets out about you and Killian, more than it already has. When he returns, he will know nothing of the child you are carrying, leaving him to marry someone appropriate for his station. Nothing good can come of you here.”

Nothing Cora says is wrong, Emma realizes, which only pains her more. Killian deserves to be with someone who will not stain his reputation, his family's reputation. But where will she go? Her mind thinks first of her mother, gone from the palace for months now, but she knows the small bakery on the outskirts of Swanvail’s capital city is not far enough for the Queen, plus there will always be the chance that they will still come upon each other on the streets.

“Will you help me find a new employer?”

“No.”

This is perhaps the hardest word for Emma to hear, but she just nods nonetheless. She wants to be angry, to throw a fit, but she finds herself unable. Perhaps, deep down, she knows nothing will come of it. She could scream until her lungs gave out, could destroy every inch of the palace kitchen, but in the end, Queen Cora would still get her way.

She would still be right. No matter what her heart says, Killian deserves to be with someone better than her. Someone who will compliment his position as Prince, who can stand beside him as something other than a servant.

Emma needs to leave. She needs to pack up her few belongings and leave Swanvail as if she never came in the first place, even if she will have a constant reminder of the time she spent here. She will never grow to regret it, even if Killian might, opposed to the other option Cora posed, which she knows she would regret immediately. So, she will separate herself from them all, the whole Jones family, the Swanvail estate, the entire country, and give him no choice but to move on.

Cora speaks again, pulling her out of the depths of her own mind. “You may have a few days, a week perhaps, but no longer than that.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Cora stands, straightening her dress. “You’ve been very amenable, Miss Blanchard. A shame you have to leave, really.”

And with that, she disappears through the doorway, the laughter of her daughters fading with her footsteps down the hallway.

Emma falls to her knees, thankful for the mats that shield her from the hard concrete floors. Why didn’t she fight? Not a single argument? She just sat there, listening to Cora tell her that she has to leave.

She pulls herself together. Places her dough in the fridge, washes her hands, fixes her hair, and leaves the kitchen behind, moving slowly through the hallways, hoping that Belle can help her.

Belle is immediately outraged. “Emma, no, she can’t do that.”

She just shrugs. “Actually, she can. This is her palace, and I’m sure that the King agrees with everything she said to me. The best thing for me to do is leave, and soon. Find a new life somewhere else, somewhere where I can’t bring scandal.”

“Oh, Emma,” she breathes, reaching out to wrap her arms around her friend. “Are you sure? Is that really what you want?”

“Of course not. But what I want is completely out of the question. This way, I can at least give Killian a chance to find someone to raise his station.”

Belle takes a moment to mull over everything Emma has said. Her sad eyes are wide, brimming with tears, but then she nods. “If she won’t help you find another home, I will. She had to have known that.”

With every moment that passes, Emma grows closer to breaking down, but she refuses to lay that burden at the feet of her only friend. So she breathes through it, pushing the sob that fights for release back into her chest. “We don’t have time to wait for a response to a letter. How will you find somewhere that wants a single, pregnant servant?”

“Don’t worry about that. Try not to worry about anything, though I can imagine that’s practically impossible, it’s not good for you. I’ll make sure you find somewhere that will accept you.”

Four days later, she steps onto the train, no one on the platform to see her off. Everything she owns fits in one suitcase, rolling behind her down the walkway. Buried under everything else sat a few of Killian’s possessions: one of his books that he had lent her, three of his shirts, and the few tokens they saved from their dates that were in his apartment. She hopes that she left nothing of hers behind, nothing that would even remind him of her, save the small hand-written card she left with Belle, knowing it would be destroyed had she left it anywhere else.

Dear Killian, I’m sorry, but I have to leave. I will forever be thankful for the time we spent together.

Every trace of her, removed from Swanvail. Just as Queen Cora wanted.

On the train, she finds the deepest sleep she’s had in days, only her balled-up jacket between her head and the cold metal of the inside of the car. Something about a new life, a second chance to start anew, calms her, apparently — or maybe she’s just exhausted, her body growing another human. She hasn’t had the chance to give it much of a break over the last few days, packing her belongings and scrubbing the last traces of herself from the floors of the palace, from every inch of Killian’s apartment.

When she wakes, it is the middle of the night. The world around her is quiet, save the chugging of the train as it moves away from Swanvail and towards her new life. Arendelle, the same place that the elder Jones brother met her beloved, is exactly where she will be going to forget hers.

Six Months Later

“Have you heard anything from Liam?” Will asks, stepping beside him against the railing. For a moment, they both stare out over the sea, Killian’s mind trying to return to reality, but he’s simply too far gone, basking in a far-away memory that doesn’t include the sloshing of the water beneath them as it thumps against the hull of the ship.

His brother is the last thing on his mind right now, watching the shore of his home grow closer, though all too slow. Not that he hasn’t thought of his brother lately, sent home three months prior to be with Belle as she neared the end of her pregnancy. But Killian has received no updates, which perhaps should be something he worries about.

He has only been able to think about Emma, waiting for him.

Emma.

He can swear that with each day that passed since he left, he has grown to love her more. He could care less about her station — he made up his mind weeks ago that the first thing he was going to do after returning home was tell his father about her, start taking the steps necessary to ensure he can spend the rest of his life with her. Even if it meant he had to give up his place as Prince, leave Swanvail forever; it’s not like he would ever be the one to rule anyway. Sure, it may anger his father and piss off that woman that he married, but Killian doesn’t care at all. All he cares about is Emma.

“Jones?” Will says, nudging him with his elbow, jarring Killian back to the deck of the ship.

“Huh? Sorry, I was—”

“Oh, no worries, mate, I know exactly where your head is. You’re thinking of the lass that’s waiting for you once we reach that shore.”

He feels his face grow red, useless against his body’s automatic reaction of reaching to scratch behind his right ear. “Is it… that obvious?”

Will laughs. “That, plus you talk in your sleep.”

Eight months aboard this ship, and this is the first he’s heard about this? Thankfully, he has a semi-private room, shared with only three other sailors since his brother went home: Will, Robin, and Jeff.

“And why have none of you chosen to tell me this until now?”

Will shrugs, though a smile is still spread across his face. “Dunno, mate. I think we just assumed you already knew.”

Another beat passes.

“Do you want to talk about her?”

Yes, his whole body screams. He so desperately wants to talk about her, has wanted to every day for the last eight months, yet he feels himself shake his head. “No, I really shouldn’t.”

What is he afraid of?

He can only imagine what the last eight months have been like for Emma, alone in that big palace, putting up with the terrible treatment of his family, only Belle to save her, plus the few months Liam has been there. He feels his face pull into a smile when he thinks of her holding his niece or nephew, aiding Belle with the tasks of motherhood as he knows she has done.

Will seems to sense that he just wants to be alone, and leaves him standing by the railing, watching the shore of his home grow closer. The repetition of the waves against the side of the ship calms him in a way he so desperately needs, and it’s a sound that he can lose himself in.

His head is spinning with thoughts of her, memories, moments he has only allowed himself to think of when no one else was around. All he wants to do is hold her in his arms again, and he is so close to shore that he can practically feel her, the warmth of her skin against his, the clean smell of her hair.

The last time he returned from a commission, he was patient, able to go through the steps of his day without rushing to see her, but he was only gone for a few weeks that time. Today, he could care less, even as he hears his father’s voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that he is a prince first, and that he should attend to his household duties before anything else, especially with how long he has been away.

It’s strange that she is not waiting for him at the dock. He has been scheduled to return home on this day since he left, not thrown off-course or held back. Loved ones of some of his companions are there to welcome the ship back, and proud citizens of Swanvail that have come to celebrate their safe return.

But his love is nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps she has chosen to wait for him to find her, worried that a public reunion would give them away. Of course, she was probably right about that, as she is always right, and with a simple wave in the direction of his new friends, he makes his way through the crowd and begins following the path that will take him home.

Home.

He spends the last few blocks wondering where she will be. It is Saturday, her day off, and he is certain that she won’t be in the palace. Unless she is spending time with Belle…

Home first, he decides.

But the apartment is eerily empty, dark and quiet in a way that seems wrong, though he cannot put his finger on why.

So she must be at the palace, knowing that the next place he would go would be to see his brother, meet the newest member of the royal family.

Dozens of thoughts fly through his mind, his body finally realizing that he is home: he hasn’t properly bathed since they left Camelot; he finally has a real bed to sleep on, a kitchen to make meals in.

But his desire to see Emma, now mixed with excitement over meeting his brother’s child, takes precedence, and he leaves the apartment behind before he notices that the apartment is completely devoid of any trace of her save the hand-written note left on his pillow.

When he knocks on the door of his brother’s suite, there is no answer. So he tries again.

Silence.

Until he hears a cough behind him, and turns to see his father standing in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest.

“Somehow I thought I would find you here.”

“Hello, father,” he groans. “Tell me, where is my brother?”

“Belle suffered some complications at the end of her term and wanted to go home and be with her family, and Liam joined her, against my better judgement.”

Killian’s heart flies to his throat, immediately thinking the worst. “Is everyone…”

His father waves a hand in the air. “Oh, yes, everyone is fine.”

“And what of the household staff? I have not been able to locate Miss Blanchard-Nolan, either. Did she travel with them, as well?”

“She is gone,” Cora says, appearing from around the corner.

Killian’s stomach turns at her words. “What do you mean?”

Cora shrugs as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. “She turned in her resignation one day and left. She left us no word as to where she was going, just disappeared.”

He tries his best to keep his emotion off his face, though both Cora and his father remain emotionless, so he cannot say whether he succeeded or not. “When was this?”

“Maybe three months after you left,” Cora replies. “A shame, really, she was an excellent employee.”

Killian remains silent as she turns away from them and continues down the hallway, away from them. Just as he wishes he could do.

“If you’re not busy, I have a whole pile of documents awaiting you in the library. With your brother away, things are piling up more than normal.”

“Oh, Emma, he’s just perfect,” Anna says, peeking over her shoulder to look at the baby in her arms.

The overwhelming acceptance by the Queen and Princess of Arendelle, Elsa and Anna, has been more than she could ever ask for, taking in someone like her. Not once in the last six months have they asked about him, though she has been unsure about how much Belle shared with them.

Belle. Looking down at her son, wrapped in a pale blue blanket in her arms, she cannot help but think of her friend that she had to leave behind. She knows that Elsa has continued to talk with her, letters coming to both of them every few weeks, and she wonders how she is doing with an infant of her own. In a perfect world, Emma would be with her now, raising their babies together, as much a part of the Jones family as she could ever be, and a wave of sadness for the life she cannot have washes over her.

Anna mistakes her tear as a happy one, wrapping her arms around Emma’s shoulders. “You deserve to be happy, Emma.” Anna has no idea how much her words sting.

“I think we should leave Emma alone,” Queen Elsa says, smiling at Emma from across the room.

The two sisters cannot be more different, both in look and demeanor. Elsa is tall, with soft, almost-white blonde hair, quiet and reserved; Anna, bless her heart, speaks every thought that comes to her mind, her personality making up for the few inches she stands below Elsa. She adores them both, but often finds herself overwhelmed in the presence of Anna.

Now is one of those times.

“Wait, I just have one question first,” Anna says, allowing her older sister to cross the room and take her hand, moving her towards the doorway.

“Of course,” Emma replies, her chest tight, worried that Anna is about to ask the question she fears the most.

“What is his name?”

She lets out her bated breath, turning her eyes down to her son in her arms. “David,” she breathes, smiling at his sleeping face. “After my father.”

“Oh, Emma!” Anna squeals, but Emma is thankful that Elsa pulls her from the nursery before they can witness the sob that leaves her chest.

Raising David in Arendelle is harder than Emma expected, especially as his eyes continue to stay the same stark blue as his father’s. She had hoped that they would darken, as Granny, the older woman who runs the estate, had told her they may. She counts Granny among those she is most thankful for in her life, a surrogate nanny and wet nurse since Emma refused to let them hire someone, trying to keep from scandalizing them.

But each day, he wakes up with eyes the color of the clearest skies, the calmest oceans.

And each day, she is reminded more of Killian.

Though he is only a few weeks old, she already finds herself worrying about the day he asks about his father, knowing that it will come. She knows she cannot possibly tell him the truth — but calms herself for the time being by the fact that he is far from speaking, far from understanding the words spoken to him.

For now, she does not have to worry.

“If there’s going to be a ball here, then by all means, you should be able to attend.” Anna is pacing around the dining table, her feet moving as quickly as her mind and her mouth. “This is your home as much as it is ours, and we didn’t bring you here to be a servant, no matter how hard you try to help out otherwise.”

She hasn’t even decided whether she wants to go, and Anna’s constant chattering about it is doing nothing to help her figure it out.

“You just had a baby — is two months ago just with a baby? — but you deserve some time to yourself. Besides, isn’t this why you had us hire Kelly, so you could worry less about David, try to spend more time doing the things you enjoy?”

In this, she’s right. Emma asked Elsa to hire Kelly, a wet nurse from one of Arendelle’s hospitals, because she was overwhelmed with the care David needed. But this is the perfect opportunity to have the evening to herself, not having to worry about him for a few hours, at least. Besides, if the ball is a bust, she can always return to her room.

She turns in her chair, reaching out to place her hand on Anna’s arm, stopping both her feet and her mouth. “You know what? You’re right.”

Anna’s whole face is transformed by her smile.

August, sitting at the far end of the table with Kristoff, looks up from the text they are sharing to smile at her. It’s no surprise, really — it only took a few meetings for them to strike up a quick friendship, and it became increasingly apparent after spending more time together that August had feelings for her that she was unable to return.

Even still, their friendship remained, and for that Emma was immensely grateful. She had very few friends in the world; in fact, she had gained more than she ever had before since moving to Arendelle. Setting his unrequited affection aside, she was glad to have a friend like August because he reminded her of home. He, unlike the rest of her acquaintances, was not a royal, and he did not even work in the palace. Instead, he was an artist, a painter, and had also published a collection of short stories in one of the local papers. He reminded her not of Swanvail, not of King Frederick’s palace in Misthaven, but of her life before that, the happiest life she had ever known. He reminded her of her childhood, of being carefree and fearless and never having to worry about the harsh words spoken to her by the Mills women or the knowing, pointed glares she receives from judgemental townsfolk.

Perhaps if her past had been a nicer one, filled with less heartbreak — three times was far too many for her heart to bear — she would have been able to return his feelings. Sometimes she wishes she could, seeing the lightness in his smile, seeing the comforting way he holds David. If her heart allowed her to love again, she would want it to be for August, but it just was not possible.

“So you’re going to the ball?” he asks, ignoring Kristoff’s eye roll, his focus solely on Emma.

“And she’s going untethered,” Elsa answers for her, reaching out to press her fingers against Emma’s. “As a special guest of the queen.”

The first half of Elsa’s words bring a smile… but the second half makes her stomach churn.

“Oh, no, I don’t — no need to make me your special guest,” she mumbles, seeing in her mind all the terrible things that could go wrong if she were given that much attention. “I’ll attend as everyone else will, nothing special about it.”

Though Anna and August have both inquired a few times, no one has asked outright about the identity of David’s father — though she suspects Elsa knows more than she lets on, perhaps informed by Belle or just putting the pieces together herself. Even this statement tells more than she has been able to shed: her fear of being recognized by someone at the ball speaks volumes, her desire to remain on the fringes of a party mostly attended by royalty.

Elsa just shrugs, tossing her white-blonde braid over her shoulder. “Whatever you think is best, Emma. We’re all here for you.”

And she knows Elsa is right, her Arendelle friends have become the most supportive people she has found in her life, save her mother.

But as the day of the ball grows closer, even their support does not keep Emma from growing more and more anxious. While she wants to believe Arendelle's ball would be the last place Killian would find himself, she begins to think perhaps she was wrong. Belle’s connection to Arendelle is a strong one, and there’s a chance he may come solely searching for her. But there’s also a chance that his father will send him here, the same way he sent Liam.

Seeing him again is absolutely the last thing she wants, and she shares as much with Ruby in the kitchens one day, stress eating cookies while she waits for David's milk to warm up.

"If you're not going to attend the ball, I can always use more help to prepare the food." It's just a quip from Granny, standing at the stove, but Emma immediately feels the weight that has grown over her heart lift.

Since agreeing to attend, she has realized that her anxiety over coming face-to-face with part of her past has overtaken her excitement for the ball. She’s sure, if she wanted to, Granny would let her take a break from being in the kitchens and experience the ball… but even the idea of seeing him there causes her heart to pound in her chest like it has never done before.

And in response to that, she nods, smiling at Granny. “You know, I think I’d prefer that.”

Ruby, who lives for the flash of a ball, groans, but Granny returns Emma’s smile. “I thought you would.”

But on the day of the ball, she instead enters the kitchens only to hear Granny say:

“Emma, hun, I need you to help serve in the ballroom.”

Her stomach turns, the floor beneath her feet going uneasy for a moment. “What?”

They agreed that she would spend the entirety of the night in the kitchen, never needing to brave the crowded hallways or bustling ballroom.

“There’s a gown laid out on your bed, and I sent Ruby up to help you get ready. Two of the other servers have fallen ill and you’re the only other person available.” Granny yells from the other side of a large cake sitting in the middle of the work station.

“Granny, please,” she begs, but the woman’s scowl is unmoved by Emma’s pleading eyes.

“I have no other choice. I’m sorry, Emma, but I need you to do this.”

Granny does not often ask for favors, strong-willed and level-headed — and usually able to plan far enough in advance to avoid precisely these situations.

“Can you be ready by the hour?”

Emma turns to face the clock hanging on the wall, which reads a few minutes over quarter-past. Shoulders slumping, she nods, also letting out a deep sigh.

“Thank you.”

The dress laying on her bed is one of the nicer she has been given since moving to Arendelle, a true ball gown — something she has never had the need for, something she thought she would never have the need for. She wonders when Granny had to have ordered it, no doubt tailored to her measurements like the rest of the clothing brought to her room.

If her heart wasn’t already trying to pound its way out of her chest, the sight of it would have taken her breath away. It’s a pale pink, reminiscent of a much easier time in her life, even if that time included much more of the Mills family than she would have liked. A time when she was still young and in love, in the middle of a soft, wonderful love affair with the younger Prince of Swanvail. She reaches out to feel the soft fabric between her fingers, the lacing detail over the crinoline of the skirt. She’s seen gowns like this before, on girls far more refined than she is.

Princesses.

The thought drifts through her mind like a song. She’s not a princess. She will never be a princess. She has done too many things in her life that make her unworthy of royalty, or even unworthy of a dress like this one.

“Great, you’re already here,” Ruby says, rushing into the room unannounced.

“Is this what all the servants are wearing?” Emma asks, not turning away from the fabric beneath her fingers.

“Of course not. But you’re not a servant, Emma. You’re a server.”

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes, turning her head to the woman who has become one of her closest friends over the last few months. “Is this what all the servers are wearing?”

“Not exact copies, but they’re all in ball attire, if that’s what you’re asking.”

But Emma barely hears her response, eyes fixed on the shining silver plate in Ruby’s hands.

“What is that?”

Ruby raises her eyebrows; if she wasn’t holding the try, her hands would be perched on her hips. “You think I would let you attend a ball without accessories?”

“Ruby, that’s too much. It’s not necessary.”

“They’re just pearls, hun.”

But there’s so many of them. Two strands, sharing the same clasp. Pearls attached to pins for her hair. A headpiece to hang a strand over her curls.

“I don’t need all of that.”

“Oh, come on, Em. I rarely get the chance to help my friend get ready for a ball. If you won’t do it for yourself, you can at least do it for me.”

It’s not that she doesn’t want it, she realizes, her eyes still locked on the string of pearls sitting on the tray as Ruby sets it on the bed beside the gown. It’s just…

“I’ve never been to a ball,” she whispers.

“You’re worked for royal families all your life, and you’ve never been to a ball?”

She shakes her head. “Swanvail was only the second palace we worked at. Before that, my mother and father ran an inn. There are certainly no balls at an inn.”

It’s a secret she’s never divulged before, not even to Killian, though she came close a few times. King Frederick took her and her parents in out of the kindness of his heart after their inn burned down. When she and her mother needed to move away after her father had died, when they needed to be anywhere other than Misthaven, King Frederick offered to help find them employment somewhere else, offering to say that Mary Margaret had worked there for far longer than the two years that she did.

Even in the two years at the castle in Misthaven, there had never been balls for Emma to attend. The King was young but already married, with two small children of his own. No heirs to marry off yet, too focused on his own family to worry about the rest of the kingdoms.

“Oh,” Ruby says, her eyes falling to the dress that Emma is still caressing. A smile quickly spreads across her face. “Well, tonight will be your first ball, and I want to do all I can to make sure it’s something you never forget.”

Emma only hopes that the younger Prince of Swanvail makes no appearances.

She is alone once more as she walks through the garden paths that lead to the castle, overwhelmed by emotions. Anxiousness and fear at the thought of coming face-to-face with him again, of course, but also so much more: excitement, nervousness, jittery, everything coming together like butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

Moving through the paths that have become so familiar to her, she passes a few faces that she recognizes and a larger number that she does not, offering her kindest smile and a slight bow when necessary, and always receiving a smile in return.

The difference in the auras between the Arendelle palace and the King of Swanvail’s estate was one of the first things she recognized when she arrived all those months ago, but it’s almost overwhelming today. Since she moved here, all of her experiences with royal families have been positive, practically jovial — and a lot more royal families choose to visit Arendelle than Swanvail, she had noticed almost immediately.

She turns the corner to the courtyard and sees him immediately. He is facing away from her, but she would recognize his silhouette anywhere, the set of his jaw and the way he stands leaning against one of the retention walls. He’s grown out his hair and has pulled it back into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck, tied together with a pale green ribbon.

Almost the same shade of green as her eyes, she doesn’t fail to notice.

Of course he’s there. Not just at the ball, but in the gardens, his eyes turned up to the sky. Nightfall has not fallen yet, but it is approaching, and a perfect crescent moon hangs above the castle.

The butterfly flutter of emotions in her stomach has turned into a brick, sinking low. She wants to run away; she wants to call out to him. She finds herself unable to do either, feet rooted to where they were when she recognized him.

Thankfully, the need to do either disappears when he takes a few short steps and turns a corner, out of sight. Her chest rises and falls with a shaky breath, pulling the fabric of the dress tighter around her lungs. She’s thankful — almost — to have seen him. Or, to have seen him but not been seen herself. Now, she knows that he is here and can prepare herself for the chess game of keeping the entire ballroom between them.

And for a while, she is successful. So long has passed without seeing him, in fact, that she swears he must have gone home, tired of socializing, knowing that he was never a fan of the pomp of egregious balls.

She has lost count of how many trays of food she has brought up from the kitchen, of how many glasses of champagne she handed out — and of how many men asked her to dance with them, despite constantly doing both of these things.

After a glass or two — or three — of champagne, Emma feels much more relaxed, especially as more and more people move to leave the crowded ballroom and return to their homes, or to the rooms they will be spending the night in. She knows, a soft, feather-like feeling in her heart, that Killian has certainly left now, no doubt seizing the opportunity to return home as soon as he can. Her anxiety falls away, layer by layer, feeling less afraid to see him in every alcove, among the crowd, or seated at one of the tables.

She feels a lightness in her step with her new-found freedom, practically dancing her way around the room with her newest tray of champagne flutes.

And just like that, everything crashes down around her. He is there, near the edge of the ballroom floor. And he is not alone. Instead, he’s dancing with a beautiful redhead in a sparkling green gown.

The same color green as the ribbon in his hair, that she mistakenly believed was because of her.

What a fool she has been, thinking he was still hung up on her.

He smiles at his date, a wide, sparkling look that used to be reserved for her, and her heart falls to the floor, shattering.

No, wait — not her heart. The tray of crystal champagne flutes falls to the floor. It’s a deafening sound, only moreso when the orchestra stops playing a few moments later in hopes of learning what caused the cacophony.

Every eye in the room is on her. Every eye, including his.

When she closes her eyes, fighting back tears, she sees him there, a memory of the man she knew, eyes as bright as the morning sun and the same color as the sea that he adores so much.

Somehow, Ruby is beside her in seconds, a hand placed on her elbow to lead her away from the mess, from the room of eyes that follow her every movement. Ruby asks no questions; for once, she does not even try to pry, has no joking quips, only silently leads Emma out of the ballroom and into the gardens.

The difference between the deafening mumbling that filled the ballroom and the perfect silence of the gardens is overwhelming as Ruby closes the doors behind them. In a soft yet uncomfortable silence, Ruby leads her around one corner, then another, before sitting her on one of the benches that sits around the large water feature.

“Deep breaths, Em,” are the first words she speaks, sliding her hand down Emma’s arm to squeeze her fingers. “Take a few minutes to catch your breath and then head home. I think I can handle it from here.”

Emma offers no response, barely managing a smile, before Ruby disappears through the hedges.

But as soon as she is gone, the first tear falls.

She hears the noise of the ballroom when Ruby opens the door and realizes that she is still too close to everything — too close to him. She’s found her way through the hedge mazes dozens of times, knows the paths like the back of her hand — but only a few minutes have passed before she realizes that somewhere between her tears, the haze of her head, and the effects from the champagne, she is lost.

All she wants to do is get out of her gown and climb into her soft silk sheets, feeling her blankets pooling around her.

But she cannot. Because she is lost.

She’s been lost before, when Cora told her she needed to leave Swanvail. But even in that, she had Belle. Now, she is well and truly alone, even with everyone around her that cares for her: Elsa, Anna, Ruby. Even little David, a constant assurance that she will never be alone again.

But here, crumbling onto the bench at the end of yet another dead end, she feels more alone than she has ever been. And alone with her thoughts is not a good place to be — she’s known that for quite a while.

How could this happen to her? He never even came to find her — of course he never came to find her. Instead, he found someone else, someone who no doubt could offer him the happiness he deserved without scandalizing his whole family. He moved on, as if nothing had even happened between them. Why is she still surprised, after Neal and Walsh and all of the terrible men whose paths she has crossed?

Cora was right. He needed to be with someone who would raise his station, not someone who would forever be a stain on the Jones family reputation. Killian may have thought he loved her, but how could he have? Their lives are so different, and she could never be what he needed her to be. He was a Lord, and she was just—

"Emma?" A voice, barely a whisper, cuts through the hedges. Her whole body quakes. What else should she have expected? She's just a servant, her life is no fairy tale, he would never —

"Emma, I know you're out here." It's not his voice. It could never be his voice. Instead, it's August.

She should not be surprised that his is the voice that finds her in the garden — it's no secret that she has remained the center of his affections.

But it's not August she wants. It should be August, he's kind and intelligent and great with David. She should be open to letting August win her heart, but she has been unable to allow herself to find the strength to let him in.

Until now. Obviously Killian doesn't want to be with her, or he would have tried to find her. Obviously he returned home from his commission in Camelot, learned she was gone, and realized that was the best thing for both of them.

Obviously he has fallen for another woman, with shining red hair and a twinkling green dress.

So she lets August comfort her.

Tonight, she does not back away from his advances. She even let him kiss her. It's not bad, really, as far as kisses go — but it is nothing compared to the warmth and welcoming softness that she remembers Killian as. In fact, she feels nothing in return, no spark or warmth of her own, and she pulls away from him.

"Emma?" This time, the voice is not August's. Now, minutes after she has convinced herself that she was never going to hear it again, the voice belongs to him. The one standing before her with wide, bright eyes and a quivering chin. "A thousand pardons, I shouldn't have—" he says quickly, turning on his heel.

"I'm sorry, August," she whispers, watching him walk away, but he just offers her a safe smile and a gesture to follow him, to follow her heart.

"I've known I could never win your heart, I just never thought I would be competing with that."

It's a joke, she knows it, but it fails to make her smile. She leans down and presses a kiss to his cheek, paired with her own soft smile. "Thank you."

She runs off into the maze, searching for him once more. Calling out his name, louder than she knows she should. She has almost given up hope when she finds him — alone, on the bench in the middle of the arch of roses and lilies, her favorite spot to sit and think. The last time she says it, it is only a whisper, paired with, "I never thought I would see you again."

"I never expected to see you again. After what the Queen and Regina told me, I knew staying away was the right thing to do."

"Regina? Didn't Belle tell you anything?"

"Belle? Belle fell ill following their son's birth, she hasn't returned to the palace since they left while I was away."

The pieces are falling together.

"So you don't know about… about any of it?" She dares to sit beside him on the bench.

"Any of what? What happened?"

"Killian, I —" she wants to tell him, wants him to know the truth more than anything, but what if he has already given his heart to another? To someone who is better for him than she could ever be? "Have you found happiness?"

He scoffs at her question. "Happiness? I have been miserable since the day I returned from Camelot. Before then, if we're being honest, because working for King Arthur was one of the worst experiences of my life. But I pulled myself through my time there knowing that you would be at home waiting for me. And then you weren't?"

"So you haven't found someone else?"

"No one can compare to you, love."

"What about that woman you were dancing with?"

This takes him a moment. "Ariel? She is Belle's friend from her home. Her husband is away on his own commission, and she asked Belle if she could come stay with us so she was not alone. Simply a friend."

A beat passes.

"What about the guy you were with just back there?"

"He's been trying to date me for months, and he's a good enough person, but he's… Killian, he's not you. No one holds a candle to you."

"Then why did you leave?"

"Cora and Regina made me. They said I would only be a stain on your reputation and that I should just take myself and our baby and leave the Enchanted Forest for good."

When Killian has no response to this, she turns to him, only to find his eyes wide and his mouth totally agape. After a moment, his words come out as a raspy whisper: "I have… you have a baby? My baby?"

"They really didn't tell you?"

"Of course they didn't tell me, Emma. They knew that as soon as I learned that, as soon as I learned you still loved me, I would drop everything to be with you."

She can't help herself, and she grabs him by the lapels of his jacket to pull his lips to hers.

After that, everything comes together as if they were never apart — lips, bodies, lives. Even King Brennan proves to be surprisingly understandable when Killian returns home to tell him of his plan to move to Arendelle.

“What do you mean she has a child?” He snaps his attention to his wife, seated beside him at the breakfast table. “Did you know this?”

Cora sighs. “Yes.”

Killian cannot stop the roll of his eyes. “Of course she knew about it, father. That’s why she sent her away.”

“I gave her a choice.”

“What do you mean?”

Killian scoffs, already knowing the answer, but he lets Cora answer: “I offered her a meeting with the finest apothecary I know to take care of her problem or that she could find work somewhere else.”

“Cora!” Killian is pleasantly surprised that his father sounds as upset by this as he was when Emma shared it with him. “And why was I never informed of any of this?”

Cora simply shrugs. “I didn’t think you needed to know.”

A silence passes over the room, and Killian counts the beats of his heart: one, two—

“I expect you to return if I need you here for diplomatic duties.”

He blinks at his father, not believing his ears.

“Are we in agreement?” Brennan adds after a moment.

“Y-yes. Anything else?”

Brennan’s face slowly turns into the brightest smile he has ever seen. “I would like to meet my grandchild the next time you return home.”

He feels lighter than air, bumps rising across his skin. He expected much more of an argument, hours, if not days, of screaming at each other. It takes him a moment to even come to terms with the fact that his father has been so understanding.

“Of course,” he breathes.

Like pieces of a puzzle, everything falls into place, and within the blink of an eye, Killian is back on the train to Arendelle, two suitcases in tow.

Holding David in his arms after officially moving to be with them, looking down at the perfect little person with his eyes but Emma’s shining blonde hair, far exceeds any idea he had about happiness before in his life.

He realizes, all in one moment, that he finally has everything he has ever wanted from life: joy, a family that he adores, outside of Swanvail where he is appreciated and understood, where he does not have to hide any of his feelings from the world around him. Home, he realizes, feeling like he belongs more than ever before. He has spent his whole life searching for a home, and here with Emma and his beautiful son, he has finally found it.

Everything he has hoped for his entire life.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #ouat ff #regency au #captain swan one shot #my writing #wordsbymeganmichael #prince killian/servant emma

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snowbellewells · 1 year ago

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@searchingwardrobes Oh goodness! I am sorry I have fallen so far behind on my reading and reviewing, but this was a lovely treat to read while I was home not feeling well. I really warmed my heart and brightened my day. I love the glimpses in the quiet moments CS must have shared along the way but we didn’t get to see in canon. This is an incredibly powerful - I’m just stunned and impressed by how much feeling you can put into a single short one shot!

I love that you mentioned the old song “Brandy” (by LookingGlass, one hit wonders, I believe) I tend to like the sad oldies, so I’ve always liked it, but Emma’s reasons why she doesn’t made me look at it in a whole different light. The fact that Killian understands what she has been through, that he was alone and needed a place to belong for so long as well, it equips him so beautifully to comfort her fears in a way that she can trust and believe in. Their moment here is so heartfelt, so gorgeous, and he even turns the words of the song’s refrain into a promise that can soothe her soul: his life, his love, his lady is no longer the sea - but her. I loved how the honesty of this just clenched my heart too: “Killian shakes his head. “Emma, you said once that you and I understand one another. You, like me, were an orphan. What is the one thing all orphans want more than anything else?” She knows the answer to that is home, and they have become that long for home to each other.

This was so, so wonderful!! Thank you for sharing this with us! It’s a new favorite!!! 💞

I'm back!!! After months and months of creative exhaustion and writer's block, this story came to me one night when I couldn't sleep. It's just a little one shot of pillow talk in Camelot that's a little fluffy, a tiny bit angsty, and a whole lot of tenderness. I hope you all enjoy it!

Rated T

Killian wished for the first time for those garish artificial lights of Storybrooke. As Emma said, he was becoming a 21st century man, and he had come to enjoy the ability to see his beloved in all her glory, even after the sun went down. Here in Camelot, however, he had to rely on his sense of touch alone to map the marks on Emma he had come to know so well.

“You and I, we understand each other,” Emma had said once, and the longer they were together, the more they saw it to be true. Though many a woman had warmed his bed, he still felt self-conscious the first time Emma saw the scars that riddled his body, yet she had smiled in that knowing way she had, and had cheekily said, “let me show you mine.”

His thumb now grazed the puckered one on her shoulder, a form of punishment by a foster father using the tip of his cigar. He nudged her hair aside with his nose, then lightly brushed his lips across the faint white line behind her right ear, caused by a broken beer bottle.

“I thought I ducked in time,” Emma had chuckled when she told him the story, “until I felt the trickle of blood dripping down my neck.”

He knew what it was to make light of a person’s past, as if childhood slavery was just one of those things that happens sometimes. There was nothing normal about it, however, just as there was nothing normal about Emma living in an alleyway at the age of ten ducking from beer brawls.

Emma shifted in his arms with a contented sigh. He wished she could sleep, but since the darkness wouldn’t allow herself that reprieve, at least she could find solace in his embrace. “You silence the voices in my head,” she had told him, pressing her nose to his collarbone. If that was the case, he would not leave her side, though the sleeping arrangements hadn’t made her father very happy at first.

Killian’s fingers danced along the jagged scars along her upper back, the newest ones, from when a skip she was chasing pushed her into a plate glass window. That story elicited a shrug and bragging rights that she only missed a few days of work. Bravado – he understood that defense mechanism as well.

They really did understand one another.

Emma reached around for his arm and pulled his hand down to lace his fingers with hers. She pressed their joined hands to her chest, and he noticed the slightest change in her bearing. An almost imperceptible stiffening, and did her pulse just kick up a notch? She shifted again, this time as if she were uncomfortable.

“Are you alright, love?”

Emma released his hand, and using her magic, she lit the candles in the room. Then she rolled over to face him, her hands fluttering, as if she didn’t know whether to touch him or not. She finally balled them up in the sheet that covered her, pulling it up to her chin.

“Do you know the song ‘Brandy’?”

Killian chuckled. “You know my only knowledge of this realm’s music is you and Henry. Right now your lad is educating me on something called punk? Apparently, it was a favorite of his father’s.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, Neal loved that stuff. I prefer the classics.”

“Like those beetle people?”

“The Beatles, Killian, and yes. Also Motown, Elvis, Creedence Clearwater Revival. I don’t know why, I just always liked the old stuff.”

“And this song? ‘Brandy’? Is by one of these singing groups?”

“Uh, no, but it's kind of the same genre, I guess. I don’t know even know who sings it, actually. I thought maybe you’d heard it at Granny’s or something. It’s about this girl and a sailor, so . . . “

“Ah.” He nodded, encouraging her to go on. He was glad she’d lit the candles, though he still couldn’t see her well. Well enough, however, to see the furrow of her brow and the way her lips turned down. This was obviously about more than a song. “Most sailors I know prefer rum, though. Brandy is a little high brow for our modest tastes.”

Emma rolled her eyes, which was precisely what he’d been going for. “Brandy is a woman. She lives by the sea and serves drinks to sailors. In a tavern, I guess.”

“Aptly named.”

Emma adjusted her pillow beneath her head and rolled over. She continued the story gazing up at the ceiling instead of looking at him.

“The song tells the story about her and the man she falls in love with. He’s a sailor, and he loves her, but always leaves her.”

Killian is beginning to see where this is going. He shifts closer to her, propping his head up on his blunted arm so he can look down at her as she speaks. With his hand, he strokes her arm gently.

“The chorus,” Emma continues, “is what the man always says to her: Brandy, you’re a fine girl. What a good wife you would be, but my life, my love, my lady is the sea.”

There are many things Killian could say. The first thought that comes to his mind is that the man in the song is either an idiot or a complete cad who most likely has a girl in every port. He’s known the type. People probably assume he’s the type, but he was always careful that his one-night stands had the same expectations he did. He actively avoided women who would be a “good wife.” Not every sailor had good form, however. He could explain all of that to Emma; tell her that the song is unfortunately a common tale, but it’s never been his.

He knows, however, that none of those things are what Emma needs right now. So he waits, without moving, his hand still caressing her arm. Emma releases a puff of angry breath before speaking again.

“I’ve always hated that song.”

“Emma, love,” Killian says gently, shifting onto his back and reaching for her, “come here.”

She comes to him a bit shyly, and he smiles at her gently as he cups her face with his hand. In her gaze, he can see hesitation. Fear. He doesn’t know if it’s the darkness whispering doubts, or if it’s her same old insecurities, but this is one battle he knows how to help her fight.

“My life,” he says, kissing her cheek, “my love,” he kisses her nose, “my lady,” he kisses her forehead, then pulls back so he can gaze into her eyes, “is you, Emma.”

Her eyes well up with tears, and a hesitant smile teases the corners of her mouth. “The Jolly Roger was your home for so long. You had nothing holding you back. Nothing tying you down.”

Killian shakes his head. “Emma, you said once that you and I understand one another. You, like me, were an orphan. What is the one thing all orphans want more than anything else?”

“A home,” Emma breathes without hesitation.

Killian nods, then kisses her fiercely, pulling her to himself, his hand tangling in her hair, pouring into his kiss all his hopes and dreams for their future. When they part, breathless, Emma presses her forehead to his, her smile finally full and joyous.

“So I didn’t freak you out when I mentioned that white picket fence?”

Killian tucks her against him, wrapping his arms fully around her. As he kisses the top of her head, he thinks of the real estate ads he and Henry have been looking at, one house in particular that looks fit for a princess, with a view of the sea.

“Not at all, love. I want that too.”

Emma snuggles further into his embrace, her hand splayed on his chest, right over his heart.

“Good,” she says, with that edge of smugness he’s always found so endearing.

He tries to stay awake, for her sake, but the warm, flickering light of the candles, combined with the softness of her in his arms, lulls him more than the ocean waves. Just as sleep pulls him under, he murmurs against her hair.

“You’re my home now, Emma. My life, my love, my lady.”

Tagging: @snowbellewells @jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateherokillian @jonesfandomfanatic @linda8084

I don't even know who is around anymore, so let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag list!!

#captain swan ff #sweetness #intimacy #my life my love my lady #cs one shot #major cs fic rec ❤️⚓️❤️#from such a talented shipmate ⚓️🩷⚓️#@searchingwardrobes

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everything-person · 4 years ago

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Last Voyage

Summary: Emma surprises Killian with an old fashioned voyage with his old crew then Killian has a surprise for Emma

*cough cough*

“You alright?”

“Fine love. Just needed to clear my throat.”

Killian and Emma were walking along the beach in the early morning slowly making their way to the docks.

“We’re almost there.”

“What’s with all the secrecy love?”

Emma smiles up at him there was a shine in her eyes, “You’ll see.”

They made their way down the pier where the Jolly Roger was docked.

“Do you wish to have another one of our private adventures aboard the Jolly Roger? If that’s all you could have just said Swan.”

“Not this time.”

They made their way into the deck where they were greeted by some familiar faces.

“Welcome aboard Captain.”

Before them stood Henry, Hope, Smee and some of his old crew.

Killian smiled while also furrowing his brow. Turning to his wife for answers.

“I thought you might wish to have a day at sea. Re-live your glory days.”

“My glory days started the day I met you Swan.” Picking up her hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. “Will you be joining me, love?”

“No,” she whispered, “not this time. I have somethings to take care of.”

He turned to Henry and Hope. He approached them with open arms.

“Then it’s looks like we’ll be having all the fun. Don’t worry love I’ll have them back before Sundown and we will eagerly enrapture you with our tales of our adventurous day.”

Henry looked down before meeting his eyes, “Actually we promised mom we’d help her with her stuff today. Maybe tonight we can play dice. I might just beat you this time.”

“Oh then perhaps I should give Dave a call. Show him what a pirates life was like.”

Henry shifted clearing his throat before saying, “Uh Grandpa is taking care of the sheriff office while we are helping mom today. Sorry but you stuck with your old crew for today.”

Killian nodded at Henry before turning his attention to his daughter. She had the same shine in her eyes as her mother, biting her lip, looking anywhere but at him.

“What’s wrong lass?”

She inhaled a deep breath before speaking, “Nothing Papa. I’ll just miss you.”

He cupped his daughters face, “Don’t worry, my little cygnet. I’ll be home tonight.”

She nodded embracing him. She burrows her face in his chest breathing him in. “I love you Papa.”

Killian squeezes his daughter not sure what has her so distraught, “I love you to my little cygnet. From your first breath far beyond my last.”

Hope let go heading to the gang plank quickly, without another glance to her father.

Henry approached the man that’s been a mentor, a father figure to him. Wrapping him in his arms, “Good bye Killian.”

Letting go he followed his sister down the gang plank waiting for his mother at the bottom.

Killian turned to see the love of his life standing there. She took slow step towards him her eyes never leaving his. Reaching up held his face, her eyes scanned every inch.

“What’s wrong Emma?”

She’s hooked her head offering him a smile, “Nothing. It just. . . sometimes I can’t believe that blacksmith I tied to a tree that said I need him alive would be so right.”

Killian chuckled, “Aye. Sometimes I can’t believe I forgot about that damned bar wench that kissed the hell out of me.”

She smiled, leaning up catch his lips in a soft kiss. Pulling away she rested her forehead against his, “I love you Killian. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you too Emma. Forever and always.”

Her hands slid down his cheeks to his neck over his shoulders down his arm grasping his hook and hand. Her eyes never leaving his, she started backing away holding onto his hand until she was to far away to hold on any more. Letting her hand fall she turned making her way off the ship. Henry reaches out his hand to help her off the last step intertwining her arm with him.

“When did you become such a gentleman?”

“I’m always a gentleman mom. I learned from the best.”

They made their way up the pier. They say and watched as the ship set sail. Her Captain on the quarter deck waving to his family before turning to wheel where he belonged.

As they stood watching Hope couldn’t hold in her emotions anymore. A sob escaped her lips, as tears started pouring out her eyes. “He should be home. We should be with him.”

Emma embraces her daughter, “That’s never how he wanted to go.”

“But he was fine. He was walking and knew who we were.”

“He also thought Grandpa was alive. He didn’t see us. He probably saw you as the little girl who would ask him to close the window so Peter Pan couldn’t get her. He probably saw me as the ten year old boy he helped rescue from Neverland.”

Emma pulled away looking at her children who have grown into adults that stood before her now.

“Yes but he is so proud of the people you have become. He was so happy to be a father and be apart of this family. He loves you both so much.”

Hope let out another sob as Henry wrapped an arm around her, letting one lone tear slide down his cheek.

“Besides it’s for the best he didn’t see me as I am now. A wrinkly old crown with gray straw for hair,” Emma let out a breathy laugh.

Henry shook his head, “He saw you as you actually are. He always has. The beautiful Savior.”

Emma smiled at her son, “Come on let’s go home.”

Later Emma was going through some things in their room. Remembering all the good times they’ve shared in this house. The wonderful life he shared with her.

She opened his night stand finding the copy of Treasure Island she gave him.

“This is ridiculous. This person obviously had no idea what they were bloody talking about,” Killian muttered.

Emma rolled over, “Babe Go to bed.”

“This book is an atrocity love.”

“Then stop reading it.”

“Why would I do that when they just started the mutiny?”

She laughed to herself. She would always try showing him how this realm reviews pirates with movies and books. Every time he would get riled up but any time she suggested to turn it off or throw the book out he would refuse having to see how it ends.

The next thing she pulled out was a familiar black scarf.

“So now you’re a gentleman?”

“Giants can smell blood. And I’m always a gentleman.” Hook said before putting liquid on her hand.

“Ah! Ow! What is that?”

“Rum and a bloody waste of it.”

He gently wrapped her hand with the soft material tying it off with his mouth. Her fingers lightly brushing against his cheek.

Emma sighed remembering the spark she felt. Wondering not for the first time how much more time they would’ve had if she trusted him. If they came back together. How different their adventures would’ve been.

Something shiny caught her eye and she reached in and pulled out the last item in the drawer.

It was one of his hooks.

Killian kicked open their bedroom door while his lips fused to her. Her legs wrapped around his hips her latched around his neck.

Coming up for air Emma whispers, “Never do that again.”

“I’ll never leave your side even if the gods try to rip us a apart,” he promised before capturing her lips again.

Falling onto the bed they began divesting each other of their clothing. Killian reaches to take off his hook. Emma reaches her hand up, only in her bra and underwear, looking at him through her eyelashes.

“Leave it on.”

Killian groans, “You little minx.”

Emma sighed. As the memory fades away. So many nights, and some days, filled with passion. Both of them always willing to show the other how much they love them. Always up to meet a challenge.

Moving to put the items back in their respective places the book falls from her lap and clatters to the floor. Emma places the scarf and hook back before reaching down picking up the book. When she lifts it a note falls from its pages. Placing the book on the bed she once again reaches down and grabs the fallen piece of paper.

Unfolding it she is greeted with Killian hand writing.

‘Dearest Swan,

I’m sorry. I never wished to leave and now I have no choice in the matter. It seems to be a cruel joke. To be sent back to you by the gods themselves only to have my mind unravel while I’m still with you. I know I don’t have much time left. And I plan to cherish every moment with you I can.

When I do go, all I wish is to be at your side. For the last thing I hold is our family in my arms. The last thing I touch be your face. The last thing I taste be you lips. The last thing I see is the love in your eyes for me. If I am to drawn my last breath I wish it is your kiss that steals it.

And when I am gone. I will keep my promise I made all those years ago. I will move on but I promise you no heaven the gods can provide will compare to the life I have lived with you.

You are the love on my life. The mother of my children. My wife. My savior. My true love.

However long we are apart that will never change. My love will stay with you and I hope give you comfort in your time of need. And when it is your time I can only hope that the gods will once again reunite us.

Until then I ask that every day you live. Hug our children and give them an extra squeeze for me.

With all my love. Yours from the end of the realms and time.

Killian’

Tears fell freely from her eyes. They were never sure if Killian knew what was happening to him. Now she had proof that he did.

A noise pulled her from her thoughts. Still clutching the note to her chest she made her way downstairs. Sharp knocking was coming from her front door.

She opened it to find a pair of blue eye that she engraved into her memory.

“Killian.”

He bent down wrapping her in his arms, burying his face in her neck.

“Sorry ma’am I know you weren’t expecting us so soon but he insisted on turning around and coming home,” Smee explained his signature hat in his hands.

“That’s alright. Thank you for bringing him home.”

Smee nodded, closing the door as he left.

“Why did you send me away love?”

“I thought you’d like to be at sea when the time came.”

Killian finally lifted his head, his gaze burning into her, “Don’t you know Swan all I have ever wanted was to be with you.”

Emma gave him a sad smile, “I do now.”

They made their way up to their bed laying down curling up together one last time. They not sure how long they laid there just enjoying their time together.

Killian reaches up brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “I think it’s time love.”

Emma nodded scooting closer.

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“You aren’t,” she said with a shaky breath her lip quivering, “You will always be with me. And I’ll follow you shortly.”

She leaned up capturing his lips once last time. She pulls away resting her forehead against his.

“I love you Emma Swan,” he whispered.

She watched as the deep blue eyes that looked last all her walls that have always saw her closed for the last time.

A tear fell from her eye landing on his cheek sliding down his face.

“I love you Killian Jones.”

#ouat #once upon a time #emma swan #captain hook #killian jones #cs fanfic #cs ff #cs one shot #cs angst

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jrob64 · 3 years ago

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Perhaps She Truly Cares - a CS canon compliant story

I love the development of Emma and Killian’s relationship in Season 4 and wanted to write a one-shot about his feelings when she kept avoiding him, so I did! Thanks to @hookedmom who used her beta skills on it after it dropped into her inbox unexpectedly. Three days ago, she didn’t even know I was writing it, and now here it is!

I tried something new for the artwork. Please let me know what you think about it, if you feel so inclined.

Summary: A canon compliant story about Killian’s thoughts and reactions during the events of episode 4x03 “Rocky Road”.

Rating: G

Words: 1718

Can also be found on Ao3 and ffn

*********

“I don’t have time to argue with you about this. Can you for once just do what I say?”

Killian knew Emma was under pressure to get the mystery of the person who froze Marian solved, but her words to him stung all the same. Of course, she could have just been reacting to Regina’s snarky comments about the savior needing saving, but he had a feeling there was more to it than that.

He thought they had a breakthrough the night before when she nearly died in the ice cave. She allowed him to stay beside her throughout the evening, comforting her and helping her to get warm again. But when he offered to go along with her to help track down the person who cast the freezing spell, she snapped at him.

Now she was heading head-long into danger. Alone. And she made it clear that he was to go to the sheriff’s office to keep that Elsa woman safe. The very person who had imprisoned Emma in that ice cave death trap. Well, he’d be damned if he was going to sit around protecting an icy menace when the woman he truly cared about was out there putting herself in peril.

He led Elsa through the back alleys of Storybrooke, avoiding contact with the townspeople; still following Emma’s instructions to keep her safe, but needing to quell his worry by starting to track whomever was creating the current threat against the town…and against Emma.

He nearly lost his temper when Elsa balked at following him, but after convincing her he wasn’t about to hide out in a sheriff’s station either, she was onboard with his plan to visit the bloody crocodile. If there had been any other way to go about it, he would have taken it, but Regina was busy trying to undo the spell on Marian, and no one else had the magic he knew was required.

Threatening Gold was risky, but when the Dark One realized Hook’s motivation and spat, “I do hope Miss Swan is worth it”, there was not a doubt in Killian’s mind.

Traipsing through the woods following the swirling flakes of magical snow, Killian found himself surprised at the insightfulness of the soft-spoken Elsa. “When you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, it can be hard to let people in. To trust them, even when they want what’s best for you.”

It gave him pause, made him question the meaning behind Emma’s sharp words to him. The citizens of this bloody town were always throwing their problems at her, expecting her to fix everything. No wonder she was vexed right now.

Yet, he still felt there was an undercurrent of worry in her words that had nothing to do with the town. His Swan was normally strong and confident, ready to take on all forms of monsters and curses without batting an eye, so this uncertainty on her part was troubling, to say the least.

Which is why he decided not to heed her orders to hunker down with Elsa in the sheriff’s station. If he could find the person responsible for the icy conundrum plaguing Storybrooke, he could take that burden off her shoulders.

The snowflakes led them directly to a woman, a stranger who appeared to be casting some sort of spell; and when Emma didn’t answer her talking device, he waited as long as he could before setting off to find her. He was confident she would forgive him for ignoring her command, because he had found the ice witch. His Swan would be proud of him.

He didn’t get far though, because the witch had seen them too. The ice encasing his foot held him captive, and he knew he was in even more trouble when suddenly there were giant, deadly spikes of ice hanging over his head.

And then there she was - his savior, accompanied by her father, coming to his rescue. David’s attempts to free him were well-meaning, but feeble at best, and now both of them were in a perilous position. With a sweep of Emma’s arm, he and her father were thrown out of the way of the falling icicles which would have torn them to shreds. The Snow Queen fled, but not before she filled Emma with more doubt and anxiety. He could sense it as they searched for any sign that would lead them to the woman who had tried to kill him.

Once again, Emma turned her wrath on him. When he suggested continuing the search, she barked, “So you can almost get yourself killed again? That’s EXACTLY why I told you to go to the sheriff’s station!”

That’s when it hit him. She wasn’t angry at him. She was trying to protect him. Captain Hook. One of the most feared pirates to sail the seas, who had lived for hundreds of years, surviving duels, monsoons, villains, and bloody Neverland. She thought she had to save him, and of course she did. Not only from the falling ice, but also from his self-loathing, self-destructive tendencies, and vengefulness.

As much as it warmed his heart realizing she cared enough to rescue him, it also caused him pain. She didn’t trust him. Didn’t trust him to keep himself out of trouble, or to be her partner in trying to rid the town of the latest menace…to be her partner at all.

He couldn’t help himself, though; he had to be close to her, no matter how much she tried to avoid him or push him away. So now here he was, sitting in the evening air outside of Granny’s, knowing she was inside trying to figure out the next step in the plan to capture the Snow Queen. He hadn’t gone in because he could sense her still-simmering anger toward him. For all his swagger and bravado, he was nursing his wounded pride as he sat there, drinking his rum. She had admonished him not once, but twice that day, and he knew she would more than likely do it again if he dared to join her inside.

Her words niggled at his brain, rolling around it repeatedly, creating a cacophony of troubling thoughts. How was he ever going to earn her trust?

When the door opened and she descended the stairs, he could tell she wasn’t expecting him to be there, but covered it with more biting words, “I’m not in the mood for a drink or…a man” as she hurried past him.

He had to run to catch up with her, as the words Elsa had spoken to him earlier came tumbling out of his mouth. She didn’t slow down, evidently hell-bent on getting away from him, until he reached out to capture her arm with his hook, stopping her in her tracks.

“You’ve got to trust me.”

The look she gave him was incredulous. “That’s what you think this is about - that I don’t trust you?”

Wait…was she saying…

“Is that not what it’s about?”

“Of course I trust you!”

And there it was, without a second of hesitation. She trusted him. Somehow they had moved past the doubt planted in her when the Wicked Witch cursed him and backed him into a corner, forcing him to make a rash decision to save Henry. “I can’t trust you now. How can I?” Those words had echoed in his head more times than he could count.

But if she truly trusted him…

“Then why do you keep pulling away from me?” he asked, anger and confusion lacing his words.

“Because everyone I’ve ever been with is dead!”

That’s when he saw the truth in her eyes; the hurt and the fear all reflected in those beautiful emerald eyes he loved so much. It wasn’t because she didn’t trust him or that she was angry with him. It wasn’t even because she wanted to protect him. She kept pulling away from him because she cared about him. Truly cared about him, and was afraid he was going to get hurt…or worse.

As he processed this information, listening to her recounting all the people she had lost, another question arose in his mind. Was she saying…

“I lost everyone. I…I can’t lose you too.”

Her words, full of pain and almost whispered as she fought for control over her emotions, told him everything he needed to know. Everything he had been yearning to hear ever since he brought her back from New York.

She loved him.

Oh, he understood he wouldn’t hear those exact words fall from her lips tonight, and possibly not for a very long time, but he had always been able to read her like an open book.

Emma Swan loved him.

Realizing this, he knew he had to reassure her that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he would never leave her. He would sooner lose his other hand than cause her to lose one more person she loved.

His eyes softened as he gazed at her, wanting so very badly to tell her his true feelings, but knowing she wasn’t ready to hear them yet. So he took a page from her book and conveyed his feelings another way.

“Well Love, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Her shoulders relaxed a bit as her eyes searched his for any sign of dishonesty. He gave her that moment, before continuing on.

“One thing I’m good at…is surviving.”

She blinked, and a tiny upturn of the corners of her mouth let him know she believed him. He wouldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t hurt her. He loved her.

Killian had always allowed Emma to take the lead in initiating the kisses they had shared, but with the knowledge of what she revealed to him in the last few moments fueling his actions, he surged forward to capture her lips.

All his uncertainty, doubt and confusion melted away as she clung to him, and he could sense a shift in her as well. Gone was the hesitance, the tension and the pulling away. She returned his ardent kiss with the same passion he was pouring into it.

There in the middle of Storybrooke’s main street, he kissed the woman he loved with everything he had because the woman who kissed him back loved him, too.

*********

Thank you for reading, and hopefully liking, reblogging and leaving comments, if you feel so inclined!

Tagging: @xsajx @hookedmom @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @lyssapup27 @swanlovato @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @lkles08 @wyntereyez @bubblegum1425 @xhookswenchx @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @dreamingdreamsalways @oncechicagolove @andiirivera @vvbooklady1256 @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @vampcoffeegyrl23 @enchanted-swans @cassy1511 @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @lavenderbudd @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @sarahpaq08 @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @xouatxcs @kiwistreetswan @batana54�� @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084 @carpedzem @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @cocohook38 @chrisilybrooke @pcrcabcth @captainswan4life85 @molly958 @kingofmyheart14 @badwolfreturns @itsfridaysomewhere @chamomileandmint @fallingforthecaptain @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @omgmarvelous @justanother-unluckysoul @mrs-potato-but-likes-tomato @anothersworld @deckerstarblanche @purplehawkcaptain @therealstartraveller776 @superchocovian @k-leemac @citygirlscowboy @laughterandbooks @sotangledupinit @apiratewhopines @huntressandlioness1 @cosette141

#csff #cs fanfiction #perhaps she truly cares #jrob64 #cs canon compliant #episode 4x03 #Rocky Road #CS fic #captain swan fan fiction #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #CS One shot

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veryverynotgoodwrites · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Captain Swan Characters: Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Emma Swan Additional Tags: Fluff, One Shot Summary:

A fluffy one shot for my dearest @teamhook

Yesterday, @karlyfr13s sent me a message on Discord with an idea to pull together members of our community to write a collection of short stories for @teamhook to offer her our love and support in any way we can during this season of her life. Within minutes, we had pulled together an impressive list of willing participants and started planning. This is her baby, and she deserves all of the credit.

It really goes to show you just how much @teamhook means to so many people in this fandom. You are a pillar to our community, and so many of us have the same story: we wouldn’t be writing if it weren’t for your constant love, support, and encouragement. I know it’s certainly true for me. I hope over the next few weeks these little fluffy offerings of words and art from all of us give you a bright spot in a challenging part of your life.

We love you more than we can express.

#love4teamhook #captain swan #cs ff #one shot #fluff #a little bit of angst but nothing stressful #we love you more than words can express #so here are some words to express it lol

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snowbellewells · 9 months ago

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@kmomof4 I know this is not the most pressing reblog and review I have to do for you, but I guess I am just in the Dracula frame of mind! 😉 Anyway, I realized I made little comments along as a beta-reader, but never really did a full reblog comment - and that just cannot stand!! (Plus it was an excellent excuse to read it again!! ☺️❤️)

So much of this was SO SO good, right from the story’s very start. I loved the sense of duty and honor Killian showed as king, and how he would not let Malcolm bully his people or abuse others with his might. Not only him, but Emma too was anxious to help and defend her people in his stead while he was gone. Their care for their subjects was obvious, and it just made you love them both all the more.

Now, you are often good at yanking on my emotions and plucking at my heartstrings, but you don’t usually go for them so early on! This was had me just aching for the tragedy and violently unfair loss they suffer to Malcolm’s evil and greed. The battle has just barely started, but he knew where to hurt them both the most and Emma’s loss is all the more horrible for it. (It’s well done, but it’s horrible, you know what I mean) Her courage is so painful but wonderful; she knows she is going to die, but just wishes Killian were close enough for her to see him again. And then Killian’s anguish. Yeah, you got me, even on a third reading now. “She gasped in pain as the blade King Malcolm carried found its mark. Numbness spread through her body from the fatal wound as her lifeblood spilled to the ground below.

She could see Killian now, far enough ahead of the main line of the army, even as darkness encroached on her vision. His scream of anguish reached her ears even as she sagged against her bonds, her strength failing her. Her vision was blurring, but she struggled to keep her eyes on him until the last possible moment.

I love you, Killian.

Then her eyes closed and Emma knew no more.”

(It IS beautiful, but it HURTS!)

And then this too: “Many, MANY years later

Killian awoke from his slumber at dusk, yet another long and lonely night stretched out before him. No different from every other night. He sighed, melancholy settling on his shoulders like a cloak. He didn’t know how much longer he could endure this lonely existence. But when he thought of the future - the future he was waiting for, that he’d been promised - he knew he could wait forever. To the end of the world, or time.”

And then, naturally, Neal is lying to her about their mission and why he is after this vampire. Not that he completely fooled our Emma, or that Killian can’t handle himself, but I like that you made it very clear how foolishly overconfident and needlessly reckless he is being. His family is the one with the cruel vendetta- though they are about to get what they deserve once and for all… 😏

And then when Killian comes to Emma that night. Speaking to her and being near her once again after so long… SWOON 😍😍😍 “It seemed only minutes later that Emma felt a feather light brush against her cheek and heard whispered words laden with tender affection.

“Emma. Emma, my Swan.”

Her eyelids fluttered open and her gaze landed on the most handsome man she’d ever seen. There was something very familiar about him, though she couldn’t say just what it was. It didn’t even occur to her to be alarmed at the presence of a strange man in her room. His hair was black as midnight and his blue eyes shone in the moonlight spilling into the room. His skin was unnaturally pale and neatly trimmed scruff the same color as his hair covered his jaw. He was tall and well built. His pants clung to the long lean muscles in his legs and he wore a dark shirt that wouldn’t look out of place on a pirate of old underneath a red brocade vest.

“Who are you?” she asked as she sat up in the bed. “How do you know my name? What are you doing here?”

He knelt beside her bed and extended his hand toward her. She placed her hand in his, feeling inexplicably drawn toward him.

“I am Killian Jones,” he said. His voice was low and rich and it wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night. “I am the Sovereign of these lands, and you are my love. I’ve waited for you for 250 years.”

I love that she just knows she has nothing to fear. Some part of her soul knows him, despite the time that has passed and all that has changed around them. 💕💕💕

I loved the bit too where Emma could feel the devotion Killian directed at her “a love like nothing she had ever known” - just gorgeous!

And then you gave them a TLK!! PERFECTION!!!! 💖💖💖

“Emma’s heart broke at the sadness in his eyes, and she moved to the edge of her bed, placing her feet on the floor, only inches separating them. “I can’t. I won’t allow this to happen.” She brought her hand to his face and cupped his jaw before lifting his face to hers and placing a gentle kiss to his lips.

A prism of rainbow colors blew through the room, and Emma gasped as she pulled back from him. Memories of her previous life flooded her mind - the contract of marriage drawn up between her father and Killian, her love for him from the moment she laid eyes on her betrothed, the swan nickname that he’d called her when she insisted on sharing his bed on their wedding night. She remembered the happy days of their lives before Killian had ridden off to defend their home from Malcolm and then being kidnapped and murdered on a high hill, her beloved on the other side of the small valley that lay between them.

“Killian,” she cried, falling into his arms where he still knelt on the floor. She kissed him fiercely, her hands in his hair, her body held in strong arms and lined up against his from their knees to their lips. They separated briefly, and Emma thought she could drown in the bottomless pools of blue that stared back at her. His skin was no longer pale, but glowed with youth and health. Her fingers trailed lightly down his face to his neck where she could feel his pulse fluttering under her fingers.

“Emma,” he whispered. “You’ve returned to me, and brought me back to life.” He was too overcome to say anymore and rose to his feet, his beloved still in his arms. Taking a deep breath, he was completely without words to express the love and joy flowing through him, not to mention the blood flowing through his veins! He was alive! At long last! He lived again, and his Emma, his Swan, was in his arms after 25o years.”

I love that all of her memories were returned as well, so she knew and remembered all that she and Killian had together before. And I really liked that he happily allowed her to be the one to take justice for her own death, even as he had been the one suffering for so long. They have been returned to each other’s arms, and at last they will live in happily together!! Wonderful story!! Thank you for sharing it with us!!

Return to Me: A New Fic for CSSNS24

Here is my second fic for the final @cssns!!

Ohhhhhh, I am SO EXCITED to share this fic with you!! I have to tell y'all, I thought I had an idea of what the original Dracula story looked like, and that idea is what inspired this fic. But turns out, I had no idea what Dracula was really about, which shouldn't have surprised me since I've never read the book nor seen any Dracula movie. Too much of a wimp... But anyway, that idea is where this fic came from, even if the idea bore almost no resemblance to the original story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!!

@snowbellewells and @hollyethecurious deserve all the love and long distance internet hugs for their beta work on this fic. They both had suggestions and insights that made it so much better!!! Thank you so much, ladies!!!

@motherkatereloyshipper did her magic AGAIN on the artwork!! Isn't it gorgeous? Please give her ALL the love!!!

Summary: Vampire Killian Jones has been waiting for his bride to return to him for 250yrs, and now that she has, there are a couple of obstacles that must be overcome before they can truly be together. Will they succeed?

*Spoiler Alert*

Of course they will. Happy endings are ALWAYS guaranteed with me...

Words: 7300

Rating: M for violence and smut

Tags: CSSNS24, Vampires, Reincarnation, TLK, Happy Ending, Temporary Major Character Death

On ao3

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 @pirateprincessofpizza

@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

@thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones

@mie779 @kymbersmith-90 @suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Return to Me

Queen Emma stood at the window in the highest tower of the castle she called home and watched as her love led their army away to fight King Malcolm - the despot of a cobbled together kingdom some leagues away, who’d now turned his sights on adding her husband’s small kingdom to his dominion.

She had no doubt that Killian would ultimately emerge victorious, but she couldn’t help the dread that squeezed her heart as she watched him march away, leading his men into battle. Their kingdom was small but prosperous, their people strong, loyal, and eager to defend their homeland and their Sovereign from the aggression of a very well-known and universally hated tyrant. The people of Malcolm’s kingdom were little more than slaves to his oppression, with no real strength or motivation, other than fear, to conquer strong and well-defended lands.

There was nothing she could do but hope and pray for his safe return to her, so she turned away from the window and prepared herself for the day ahead. She was no stranger to duty and was ready to fulfill hers while her beloved was away. It was important for the remaining people in her kingdom to see and to know that their welfare would not suffer while their Sovereign was absent. And that duty fell now to Emma alone. Just as her husband wouldn’t fail their kingdom, she would prevail in her charge as well.

Many hours later, a large hand slammed over Emma’s mouth, waking her from a sound sleep. The strangled scream that burst from her was muffled both by the offending appendage and the way she struggled within her assailant’s grasp. It was only moments before the hand was replaced with a gag that was stuffed in her mouth and a bag placed over her head. A strong arm was wrapped around her middle as she did everything she could to escape. There were several of them, as evidenced by the grasping hands trying to grab her flailing limbs. They were finally successful, and her hands and legs were bound securely as she was carried through the silent halls of the castle. The guards who should have defended their queen had obviously been dealt with when her kidnappers approached her chambers.

They emerged into the night, evidenced by the slight breeze against her bare arms. She was unceremoniously thrown into a cage of some sort - the wooden bars solid and tearing at her exposed skin. She tried to stand in her prison as, with a jerk, they began to move, but her tied hands and feet made that impossible. She fell into a heap, tears of pain and fear filling her eyes.

Still blinded by the bag over her head - the stink of it making it difficult to draw a deep breath - Emma tried her best to keep her wits about her and not panic.

Who were these men and where were they taking her?

~*~*~

She must have fallen asleep at some point in their journey, because she was jerked into wakefulness when they came to a sudden stop. The air didn’t seem as close now as when they set out from the castle, and the sounds of many horses and low murmurs among the clanking of iron told her she was in the camp of an army. King Malcolm must have sent men to kidnap her to give him an advantage in the coming battle. She could hear her captors dismounting and coming to the door of her cage.

She positioned herself as far away from the door as she possibly could. There was blessed little hope for escape, but she wouldn’t make it easy for them. The gate of her prison was opened and, from the lurching tilt of the cage, she knew the man who’d just climbed inside was quite large. She held her breath waiting for him to put his hands on her. She suppressed a shudder of revulsion as a large hand wrapped around her bound ankles and began to pull her forward. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as his stench reached her. The moment she perceived that she was close enough, she pulled her head back and then forcefully jerked it forward, hoping beyond hope that she’d make contact with some tender part of her aggressor’s anatomy.

A sickening crunch and a howl of pain reached her ears a moment later. The hand around her ankles disappeared, and Emma began kicking her legs, trying to keep anyone else from laying their hands on her person. But her victory was short-lived. Similar to the night before, strong arms wrapped around her middle and hauled her bodily out of the cage she’d traveled in.

She twisted and flailed as much as she could while in her captor’s grasp, until she was put down on her feet and tied securely to some kind of post or tree. Only then was the bag over her head removed.

She blinked furiously against the bright morning sunlight that was just cresting the hill on which she stood. Once her eyes focused, she could see the army bearing the colors of her kingdom on the opposite hill, on the other side of a small valley where the two armies would presumably meet in battle. The army and her beloved were too far away to see clearly, but she now knew with certainty who had kidnapped her and also had a pretty good idea of his plans for her.

She turned her head to the side to see King Malcolm, a gloating sneer on his face. Finally seeing him in person rather than conjuring him in her mind's eye, he wasn’t nearly as impressive as the tales made him out to be. He was only slightly taller than she was - certainly not as tall as Killian - stocky, and with straight hair the color of dirt. His teeth were yellow, though the beard and mustache he sported was neatly trimmed.

He stroked his chin as he moved toward her. “It’s a shame that I’ve already bound myself to Lady Fiona,” he mused, his sneer turning lascivious as he looked her up and down. “You’d make quite a lovely bride…”

His words came to a sudden stop when Emma spit in his face. He roughly grabbed her chin in his hand and moved closer to her, his face inches from her own. He stank, like the rest of his men, and Emma was glad she’d had nothing to eat for hours, or she would surely lose it from the foulness invading her nostrils.

“Now you listen here, you draggle-tail.” The sneer was back in full force, and Emma glared with all the animosity she held in her heart for this foul coward of a man. “The only reason you’re still alive is because I want to be sure King Killian sees what happens to those who defy me.” He turned away from her, and over his shoulder she could just see the line of her kingdom’s army charging down the hill toward the valley.

They were too far. He was too far. He’d never reach her in time. A calm resolve settled about her shoulders. King Malcolm intended to kill her to punish Killian. She could see him now at the front of the army, though he was still too far to make out any details of his beloved face.

She thought back over the past weeks and months of their lives together. Killian approaching her father to arrange their marriage. The flutter in her heart and instant connection she felt with him when she saw him for the first time as she entered the church to join her life to his. After their wedding, when she was escorted to her chambers - Killian explaining that he did not expect consummation of their marriage when they’d only met a few hours ago at the altar - turning to her husband and informing him that she expected consummation and would be sharing his bed henceforth. Killian’s affectionate appellation the exchange engendered. The days, and nights, since then, the love and happiness they’d found together.

She gasped in pain as the blade King Malcolm carried found its mark. Numbness spread through her body from the fatal wound as her lifeblood spilled to the ground below.

I love you, Killian.

Then her eyes closed and Emma knew no more.

~*~*~

Many, MANY years later

As he moved through the corridors of the castle, something came over him. He could smell a freshness in the air, a sense of anticipation that rivaled the longing for spring when the first crocuses and snowdrops pushed through the frozen ground.

Turning his attention to the village below his castle, he sent forth his preternatural hearing to try and locate the source of this difference in the air. The village was growing quiet as shopkeepers closed their doors, children were called inside, and families gathered around the table for the evening meal. All was as it should be. As King of this tiny kingdom, he took his duty to see to the welfare of his people seriously. Just as he had during his days of life. Even if it wasn’t strictly necessary any longer.

The inn on the edge of the village drew his attention as he focused in on the newcomer who’d just entered the common room. The kingdom didn’t have visitors. Since the day his existence had changed, no one but those specifically traveling here for some reason had ever come. So this man had a reason for being here, and Killian needed to know what it was. The man’s voice had an oddly familiar huskiness to it - something about the cadence and inflection, the way he uttered the words more than the words themselves - that made Killian want - no, need - to see exactly who spoke.

With a wave of his hand, he transformed into a bat and quickly flew down to the large pine tree in the open courtyard of the inn. This particular perch would give him a good vantage point to see inside both the stables and the common room, as well as many of the private rooms inside, in case he wasn’t immediately able to put eyes on the speaker who had brought him down to the village in the first place.

He hung upside down from one of the lower boughs of the tree, peering inside the common room, when the freshness of the air he’d noticed earlier permeated his concentration causing him to turn his attention to the stables. An involuntary gasp in the form of a high pitched squeak- too high for humans to hear- left him as his eyes beheld his love for the first time in centuries.

His shock was profound as he transformed back to himself and hid in the shadows of the huge tree. Blood tears filled his eyes as they eagerly drank in everything about his Swan - his pet name for his beloved bride because of her beauty and fierceness if provoked. Long golden hair that curled slightly was gathered at the crown of her head, but still hung down to her shoulder blades. His keen eyesight could see the green of her eyes and even the dimples on her chin and on either side of her full pink mouth that he’d traced many times with his tongue in the throes of passion. It was all the time he had before she entered the common room of the inn, shutting the door tightly behind her.

Killian moved to the window, still careful to remain in the shadows, to see if she joined the man he was seeking or if she was traveling alone. She sat down at a table across from a man whose countenance tickled the edges of Killian’s memory, but he couldn’t quite place him. They were sitting close enough to the window that he had no trouble hearing their conversation.

“Neal, what is going on here?” she asked, furtively looking around, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You bring me to this… place… not on any map, out in the middle of nowhere with no explanation other than you have some mission to fulfill before the wedding. This looks straight out of, I don’t know, almost Medieval times. No paved roads, or vehicles for that matter, other than carts and horses. The women are all dressed like…” She looked down and motioned vaguely at her own attire of pants tucked into tall boots and a close-fitting shirt with no evidence of a corset underneath, all covered by a red leather jacket that barely skimmed her waist. “Not like me.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “It’s like time stood still here.” She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I think it’s time you told me exactly what this mission is and why we’re here.”

Just at that moment, the innkeeper approached their table holding two keys. “Dr. Cassidy, Miss Swan,” he began. Killian was shaken down to his marrow to hear his own sobriquet applied as a proper name to his reincarnated love. She looked at the innkeeper confusion furrowing her brow.

“We’re together,” she informed him. “We just need one room.”

The innkeeper shook his head. “Separate rooms for men and women who are not married,” he informed her. “King Killian would never allow otherwise.” He left the keys on the table and withdrew just as one of the serving girls laid down plates of roasted chicken, vegetables, and fresh baked bread in front of them.

The consternation on her visage was very familiar, and Killian felt a surge of inexpressible joy that brought a wide smile to his lips.

“Is he kidding?” she asked this Dr. Neal Cassidy. The stare she pinned him with was also very familiar, and Killian could almost feel sorry for the man as he seemed to squirm a bit under her intense gaze. “Explain. Now,” she continued. “What is this place? What are we doing here?”

The man leaned across the table and lowered his voice, obviously not wanting to be overheard.

“Ems,” he began, glancing around to make sure there was no one near enough to hear him. Too bad he didn’t know Killian stood just on the other side of the wall and could hear every word that proceeded from his lips. “The reason we’re here - the mission - is to kill…” His love’s eyes widened as Dr. Cassidy glanced around again to be sure there was still no one within earshot, “a vampire.”

Killian let out a resigned breath as full recognition flooded him. Here we go again, he thought. The reason this Dr. Cassidy sounded, and then looked, vaguely familiar to him was because he was of King Malcolm’s bloodline. The last in a long, long line of adversaries who refused to leave him in peace.

“A… vampire?” she asked, incredulously. “But…”

“Don’t say they don’t exist,” Cassidy interrupted, his hand waving dismissively about. “I can assure you, they do. And this one has had a vendetta against my family for 250 years.” Killian could clearly see the disbelief in his love’s eyes as the man continued his impassioned explanation. “This vampire has killed every single one of my male ancestors, from my own father to my great-great-great-whatever going back to 1768. Why, I have no idea. But I didn’t want us to begin our lives together with this shadow hanging over us. So I’m here to kill him, before he comes after me. And I will succeed.”

The words took a moment to register, but once they did, Killian’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in suspicion. This man, this Dr. Cassidy - descendent of Malcolm, the man who’d… - was planning to marry his Swan. He stood rooted in the shadows unable to do anything but watch and seethe in helpless fury.

“Neal…” she began, doubt and confusion in her eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” he insisted, interrupting her rudely. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, but you wanted an explanation and you got it. Just trust me, ok?”

“Fine,” she said, though her eyes told a different story altogether. “Let’s say I trust you, and vampires are real.” The skepticism in her tone was on full display, and Killian knew she still didn’t believe Dr. Cassidy’s words. “What if you don’t kill him?” she asked. “What if he kills you, too?”

“He won’t,” he assured her, reaching across the table toward her. “We’ll attack during the day, while he’s asleep. A stake to the heart and cutting off his head will ensure his death. Then we can return home, get married, and live our lives in peace.”

Killian ground his teeth in anger at the lies Dr. Cassidy was spinning. Why the man felt the need for deception about the history between his family - King Malcolm’s progeny - and Killian himself, he could only speculate. But the man was obviously not worthy to call his Swan his own.

“And you know how to find him?” she asked.

Dr. Cassidy nodded and pulled out a small notebook. “This has been handed down to me from my father and from his father before him. Everything we need to know to kill the creature is right here.” He opened the book and flipped to a page with a map. “This is a map of the castle, so yes, I know exactly how to find him.”

They finished their meal in relative silence. Once they’d satisfied their respective appetites, they each took a key and walked toward the stairs on the other side of the common room. Killian’s gaze fixed on Dr. Cassidy. He had some plans to make before he’d surely face this latest adversary come dawn.

~*~*~

Emma Swan rummaged through her duffle and pulled out her sleep shorts and tank top as she tried and failed to put Neal’s words from her mind.

Something about his explanation didn’t ring true to her. She had a sixth sense type of thing- she likened it to a superpower- but she could always tell when someone was lying to her. And as she ran back over his words about the vampire, she knew he was not telling her the truth. Not about the vampire himself, though. As unbelievable as his words were, they were not the rambling mutterings of a madman. And her superpower had been completely silent when he spoke about its existence. It was only when he spoke of the reason for the vampire’s vendetta that her intuition awoke, telling her of his deception. He had to know why, why the vampire was targeting his family. That was the only thing he said that wasn’t straight facts. For some reason though, he didn’t want her to know what the reason was.

She crawled into bed, closed her eyes, and prayed sleep would find her quickly.

It seemed only minutes later that Emma felt a feather light brush against her cheek and heard whispered words laden with tender affection.

“Emma. Emma, my Swan.”

“Who are you?” she asked as she sat up in the bed. “How do you know my name? What are you doing here?”

He knelt beside her bed and extended his hand toward her. She placed her hand in his, feeling inexplicably drawn toward him.

“What?!” she cried, pulling her hand from his. His last words made her mind race back to what Neal had said earlier as she quickly put the pieces together. “You’re the vampire!” She couldn’t contain the horror in her voice or, she was sure, on her face. “Oh, God! You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” She could hardly believe what she was seeing, visual confirmation of Neal’s words. She pulled her legs toward her chest and scooted as close to the head of the bed as she could, trying to present as small a target as was possible. “Why me? Neal said you targeted his family! I’m not his family, yet!”

“No, my Swan,” he assured her, gentle compassion beset on his features, his hand still outstretched, her superpower as silent as could be. “I am not here to kill you. You are my bride. Returned to me. As promised.”

Bride? Returned to me? As promised? “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Nobody promised anyone anything!” she exclaimed. Without fully realizing what she was doing, she extended a hand towards him, and he gently clasped her fingers.

Love. A deep and abiding love that she’d never known swept over her as pictures filled her mind. Pictures narrated by the man kneeling before her.

“King Malcolm demanded tribute from our small but prosperous kingdom. He was nothing but a tyrant, and I refused. Our people were loyal and strong, and I knew that we could defeat him if it came to battle. The dawn when we were to meet, our lookout ran to me with his spyglass. I opened it and trained it across the valley to where his army was mustered.”

A gasp of profound grief filled her mind as she saw what Killian saw through the spyglass. A woman tied to a post, her face covered with a dark bag. The obvious leader of the army, King Malcolm, grabbed the bag off of the woman’s head, her long blonde hair settling about her shoulders. There wasn’t time to get a good look at her face, but the scream of anguish from Killian told her that whoever it was, was someone of great import to him. He sounded the advance - the thunder of hooves and battle cries of the men deafening in Emma’s mind. Watching the scene now through Killian’s eyes, as they got closer to the opposing army, King Malcolm drew his blade across the throat of the blonde woman, Killian’s cry of fury now filling her mind. The armies met, and Killian was relentless against his adversaries until he met King Malcolm himself. The fighting between the two men was brief - Killian obviously a far superior swordsman. It was only moments before Killian’s sword was buried in his enemy’s gut, withdrawn and brought down again where King Malcolm’s neck met his shoulder, literally slicing the man in two.

The battle was over, and Killian rushed to the dead woman on the other side of the valley. Emma watched through Killian’s eyes as he gently turned her face towards him. Emma’s breath caught and she couldn’t look away from the ashen visage of Killian’s beloved- her own face. His grief and despair poured from his lips as he gathered his love to his chest, uncaring of her blood that covered him.

Killian’s narration resumed.

“King Malcolm was soundly defeated, paying for his hubris with his life. But not before he took my greatest treasure away from me. My Swan, my bride, my Emma. We’d only been married a few months when I rode away to war. If I’d known what his plans were…”

His words drifted off for a moment before resuming again. “I’d heard of a witch who lived in the woods near the border of our kingdom. I’d left her in peace because, to my knowledge, she didn’t use her magic for nefarious purposes. I took the body of my beloved to her, mad in my grief, hoping that something could be done to bring my love back to me.”

Emma watched as Killian emerged into a clearing with a small hut on the opposite side. She could smell the woodsmoke tinged with aromatic herbs from the chimney. Could hear his gasping cries and the sound of his pounding fist upon the door. When it opened, Emma gasped in horror. The witch had no face. Long matted red hair framed a pale visage with thick black stitches where her eyes should be. She spoke in an otherworldly whisper as she invited Killian Jones in.

He laid the body of his beloved on a pallet on the floor and begged the witch to do something, anything. Holding her hands out in front of her, Emma gasped again at the bright blue eyes in the center of each of the witch’s palms. She slowly moved her arms back and forth, the eyes darting around, before she began to speak.

“I am powerless against the bonds of death, Killian Jones,” she murmured, but with an undertone that reminded Emma of the swell of the ocean pounding against the rocks of the seashore. “But know this, your love will return to you one day, not by my hand and many lifetimes hence. I will give you a potion that will enable you to live until that time. When she returns to you, her True Love's Kiss will restore you to life and you will live out your days in peace.”

The witch fell silent and her arms dropped to her side, the unnerving eyes now covered from Emma’s sight. The witch turned to a shelf laden with bottles and her hands moved surely among them until they settled on the one she sought. She turned back to Killian and handed him the bottle before speaking again.

“Drinking this will give you endless life, and will freeze time within the confines of your kingdom. The night will be your domain, and you will thirst for blood. Until the time your True Love returns to you.”

Killian uncorked the bottle and downed the contents in one go. It was only seconds later that he doubled over in excruciating pain, his cries surely reaching far beyond the woods in which they all stood. It seemed forever to Emma, but his cries finally came to an end and he straightened upright again. His eyes darted around the hut before landing on the witch. Emma could feel the struggle within him - his thirst for blood was overwhelming, but his gratitude for the witch’s prophecy and the potion kept him from slaking that thirst on the first available person he met. His hands shook as he reached out toward her, expressing his thanks. He turned and picked up his bride and quickly took his leave. It wasn’t far into the woods before the thirst took him completely. He hid his love and found a deer to satisfy his hunger. Emma had never hunted anything in her life and couldn’t watch this particular scene. As she waited for it to be over, she heard his voice in her head again.

“Since this time, I have never left my lands.” His voice was sad, resigned, the weight of centuries contained within it. “I’ve only left my halls to feed on the animals of the forest as I waited for you to return to me. Malcolm was the first, but he was by no means the last, to seek to forcibly take my dominion from me. Over the centuries, father and then son have sought to destroy me, but all have failed. Your Dr. Cassidy is the last of that line. Each one has come after me. I have never, in 250 years, sought them out. Malcolm was the one who took you from me, and he tasted my wrath. I held no ill will toward his progeny. I have only ever defended myself against their aggression.”

The scenes came to an end, and Emma was back in her room in the inn, Killian Jones, still gently holding her hand in his own, kneeling before her.

“I knew he was lying,” she whispered. “He said he didn’t know why you targeted his family, but you didn’t. They targeted you.” He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “His great-great…” Emma shook her head slightly, “whatever murdered your love… Murdered… me?” He nodded again. “And you’ve been waiting for me to return to you all this time.” Emma’s heart broke at the sadness in his eyes, and she moved to the edge of her bed, placing her feet on the floor, only inches separating them. “I can’t. I won’t allow this to happen.” She brought her hand to his face and cupped his jaw before lifting his face to hers and placing a gentle kiss to his lips.

He lowered her to the bed and drew back, his eyes raking over his beloved, taking her in from head to toe - green eyes like emeralds glazed with passion, blonde hair fanned out over her pillow, her lips were red and kiss swollen, her chest heaved, nipples at attention as she struggled to catch her breath. Her long long legs writhed on the bed, seeking friction for the arousal she clearly felt.

“You are so beautiful, my Swan,” he murmured. His fingers trailed lightly down her arms, then sought the bare skin underneath the bodice she wore. She gasped and grasped the bottom of the garment before drawing it over her head in one smooth movement, baring her breasts to him.

Killian quickly removed his own clothing as she took her bottoms off before returning to her on the bed. Stretching out beside his love, his fingers lightly grazed the side of her breast as his mouth sought hers again. His moan of rapture came from the depths of his very soul. His beloved wife was returned to him. There were times over the past two and a half centuries that he despaired of ever seeing this day, but now that it was here, it seemed all these years without her were but a blink of an eye.

The fervent and frantic motions between them calmed when Killian captured her lips. Emma clung to him, drawing him closer and closer to where she desperately needed him. Her hands traced the long lines of his back from his shoulders to his ass, and delighted at the lean strength she found there. She rolled to her back, bringing him with her, settling him between her legs. Pressing her hips against his hardness, she shuddered at the exquisite pleasure that raced down her spine.

Killian released her lips and dipped his tongue into the two dimples on either side of her mouth and the one on her chin, just as he had remembered doing earlier this evening when beholding her for the first time in so long. He worked his way down the graceful slope of her neck, nibbling and biting, leaving open mouth kisses and raising gooseflesh in his wake. He circled one nipple and then the other with his tongue before drawing it into the warm cavern of his mouth, sucking gently. Her moan of pleasure went straight to his cock and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to wait to be inside her until he brought her to the pinnacle of ecstasy.

“Killian,” she breathed, writhing beneath him. “Killian, please. I need you so much.”

“Patience, dearest,” he replied in between kisses down her torso. “I must quench my thirst on you now.” She released her breath on a shaky exhale as he spread her legs and blew gently on her soaked folds. Killian couldn’t help but chuckle as she squirmed, but his need was also great, so he dove into the decadent feast laid out before him and was rewarded with a burst of sweetness on his tongue and a high pitched cry from his beloved signaling her climax. He lapped up every drop she bestowed on him before moving up her delectable body once again. Capturing her lips once more, he lined himself up with her channel and pushed into her scorching hot depths.

“Emma,” he cried, “How I love you!” He began to move, slowly at first, but then with more speed as his passion overtook him.

“I love you, too, Killian,” she moaned. “Take me. Mark me. Make me yours! Please!”

“I have missed you… so much… my love…” He buried his face in her neck and obliging her words, sucked on her pulse point, drawing heat to the surface of her skin. Her walls gripped him as she fell again, and he could hold himself back no longer, emptying himself into her with a roar of euphoria.

He collapsed onto his love, but couldn’t open his eyes for several minutes, his newly alive body utterly exhausted. When he could move again, he rolled off of her and gathered her into his arms, nuzzling and kissing her neck. She hummed in satisfaction and met his lips with her own.

“At times, I would despair that this day would ever come,” he murmured into her lips.

“But I’m here now. And I’ll never leave you,” she promised him. “We need to do something about Neal. He plans to kill you come dawn.”

Killian chuckled amusedly. “Let him come. I’m human again. I won’t be asleep like he expects. I’ll be waiting for him.”

“Let me,” Emma said, her green eyes flashing, her voice filled with passion. “His ancestor started all this - trying to take everything from you and separating us for 250 years by murder, no less. And Neal lied to me about you. Allow me recompense for all that he and his ancestors have taken from us.”

Killian stroked her cheek tenderly. “As you wish, my love.” He gathered her close, her head resting on his chest. “Once we awaken in the morning, you’ll meet him and I’ll slip away to the castle. I’ll be waiting for you in the great hall.” He smiled gently at her. “We will resume our rule of this land, side by side. As it should be.”

“I can’t wait,” Emma murmured. She reached up and kissed him gently before settling her head back on his chest again. It wasn’t long before her breaths evened out and deepened, indicating her peaceful slumber. Killian struggled to remain awake for just a few minutes more of finally holding his love in his arms again after so long. He stroked her hair gently and kissed the top of her head before his eyes slowly closed.

~*~*~

Killian peeled his eyes open and sat up, alarmed, to find himself alone in his chambers at his castle. The magic within him - that bound him and his kingdom - always made sure that he was safely ensconced in his castle before dawn. And the remnants he could feel now left within him must have done the same. Even if it was no longer necessary. He gasped in fear and looked down at his hands in a panic, terrified he might find it was a dream and he was still a vampire. The sun was just beginning to rise over the trees and into his chambers and he could clearly see that his hands were warm and pink with life, rather than the pale ashen color he’d seen for so long.

He rose from his bed, still naked, his eyes darting around his chambers. It was dawn, and he was awake! He was alive! He hadn’t seen the sun in 250 years and it was glorious! The comparison to Emma’s hair was completely unavoidable.

Emma!

She’d be here with Dr. Cassidy soon, and Killian needed to prepare himself. He dressed himself carefully and proceeded to the great hall to receive his guests.

~*~*~

Emma and Neal approached the castle, bold as brass. When she’d awoken alone that morning, Killian’s clothes were still scattered around the room, testimony to the night of passion she’d shared with her love, besides the sizable hickey he’d left on her neck. She’d needed to leave her hair down to hide it from Neal when they left the inn on horseback about forty-five minutes before. Now they could clearly see the gates of the castle, wide open.

As if they were expected.

It was exactly the same as her memories of her past life. As they passed under the portcullis, she knew what she’d see - the wide courtyard where the market day was held weekly, or the army Killian commanded practiced drills. They approached the keep, and Emma held her breath. Neal strutted forward as if he was the lord of this castle, and Emma ground her teeth in anger.

She followed behind him as he consulted the notebook he’d shown her the night before. They continued through the halls of the castle until they entered the Great Hall. Emma’s heart leapt to see Killian on the other side, silently waiting for them.

“Killian,” she cried, running to him, completely uncaring about Neal’s reaction. He rose to his feet, unspeakable joy on his face. Catching her in his arms, their lips met in a kiss so full of passion, she never wanted it to end.

Much too soon for her liking, Killian pulled back.

“My love,” he whispered, trailing his fingers down her cheek. The move was so full of tenderness, it made Emma want to weep.

She met his sapphire gaze with her own and whispered. “Soon,” she assured him before turning to Neal, who stood dumbfounded where she’d left him by the doors. Taking slow, deliberate steps, Emma crossed the room until she stood just a few feet away from her former fiancé.

“I imagine you have some questions,” she began. “Are you wondering how we could possibly know each other, what that kiss was about, exactly what is going on here? I am very happy to answer those questions,” she said with a satisfied smirk on her face. She paused for a moment, before taking another slow and deliberate step toward him. “But not before you hear what I have to say to you.”

Another step.

“You lied to me,” she accused softly. “You said that this monster had a vendetta against your family, and you didn’t know why. When actually, it was the other way around. Your family held on to a hopeless vendetta against him.” The blood drained out of Neal’s face, and Emma couldn’t help the small smile that touched her lips. “You and each of your male ancestors have come against him. Never has he come against you. Not once in two-hundred-fifty years.”

“Emma…”

“Now, for the questions… And the answer is really all rolled up into one. What exactly is going on here? Justice. You came here, the last in a long long line, expecting to finally destroy the vampire whom you claim has plagued your family for centuries. When actually, my True Love and I will be exacting retribution for your and your family’s crimes against us.”

Neal’s voice shook as he whispered, “True Love?”

“Yes,” she replied. “True Love. And you want to know how I know?” She nodded at him, a knowing and gleeful smile on her face. “I know because after he told me the truth, his kiss brought the memories of my past life back to me and brought him back to life again. This vampire has waited for me to return to him after your ancestor murdered me in cold blood, in full view of him and the armies they both led. Since then, your family has come against him, over and over again, until this very day. You are the last. And you will be the last. With no son to take up your vendetta, we will live out the rest of our lives in peace.”

With those words, Emma reached into the bag at her side where she carried all the weapons Neal had brought along on his fruitless quest. Quick as lightning, she pulled out the wickedly sharp wooden stake that he’d planned to plunge into Killian’s chest and plunged it into his neck. Blood poured through his fingers, too much to be stopped. He staggered forward, his other arm reaching for her, his eyes glazed and unseeing. Emma stepped back out of his reach into Killian’s warm embrace.

It was only moments before he was completely still. Emma turned to face her True Love and was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s over,” he said in a whisper.

“It’s over,” she repeated, nodding gently.

“And you’ve returned to me.” A tear slowly tracked down his face as he looked into her eyes and tenderly, reverently stroked her cheek.

“And I’ve returned to you.” She lifted her hand to his face and drew him down to her lips, her kiss promising forever.

The End

~*~*~

Thank you so much for reading and sharing! I'd love to know what you think!!

#cssns24 #return to me #krystal writes #art by motherkatereloyshipper #cs ff #cs au one shot #major cs fic rec ⚓️❤️⚓️#such a talented shipmate 💕⚓️💕

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snowbellewells · 1 year ago

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CS Fic Rec Monday: "But, There's Only One Bed" by: @artistic-writer

This one shot has such a lovely and sweet meet-cute for Killian and Emma, as they run into each other in an airport when both their flights are grounded. @artistic-writer makes stellar use of the "only one bed" trope here when our fave couple go across the way to the hotel the airplane puts them up in for the night, only to discover that their accommodations are not quite what they might have expected. This goes from wonderful feelings of connection and playful conversation to genuinely steamy and heartfelt both. This one will have you swooning and turning up the AC, even if it is barely March!

"But, There's Only One Bed" by: @artistic-writer

#cs fic rec monday #csfrm #but there's only one bed #cs modern au #cs one shot ff #major cs fic rec #such a talented shipmate #@artistic-writer

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seriouslyhooked · 5 years ago

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Lighthouse (CS AU)

Short oneshot where Emma is the Princess and Killian is her longtime love. He’s serving his last deployment in the royal navy and she is eagerly awaiting his arrival. Available on AO3 Here and FF Here.

A/N: This is a fluffy drabble that was prompted FOREVER ago by a lovely reader. They wanted the song “Lighthouse’ by Collabro and the story to include a Lieutenant Duckling Reunion fic. It has been so long since I’ve gotten to write something like that, and I have really missed it, so here is my attempt at some cuteness for you all. Thanks for reading, and thanks so much to the awesome reader who suggested this!

Please let him be safe. Please let him come home. Please let him return to me.

The silent prayers were ones that Princess Emma had begged for more times than she could count. Over the past year, while Killian was out at sea, serving in the royal navy, Emma had been beside herself with worry. It was bad enough to be separated from the man she loved, but to know that he could be in danger all this time pained her heart in shades of sadness she’d never be able to vocalize.

If she had her way in this scenario, Emma would be down at the docks, watching the horizon for any sign of his ship in port. No, forget that idea, she’d be on the ship with him, facing whatever harrowing adventures the high seas might call for without a drop of fear. When she was with Killian, nothing could touch her. The magic they shared was a barrier against anything bad, a fortifying force that protected them both, and Emma felt steadier and at peace. But alas, her destiny was written already, and it held no space for seafaring voyages or long treks on the open ocean.

As the one-day heir of the realm, Emma was expected to put on a brave face and attend to her duties. The people looked to her and her family for leadership and guidance. They all played a part in the health of this kingdom, and her birthright was to inherit all of this someday. At some point in the not too distant future, when her mother and father were ready to step aside, it would be Emma who took the throne, but all the grandeur and the power meant nothing to her, not without Killian to share it with.

Every spare moment she thought of him, and imagined what it would be like someday, when this was all behind them. This was his last deployment under the careful watch of his elder brother Liam, and prior to his going, he’d already received her parent’s blessing to marry her, though not before asking Emma for her hand herself. She’d accepted in a heartbeat, failing to let him even finish the romantic question when she understood his intent. She was desperate to be his in every way, and remembering the smile he’d bestowed on her and the kisses that they shared when she’d agreed, it was obvious that Killian felt the same.

Almost a whole year had passed since that miraculous night, and not long after he was sent away, sailing for the edge of the known world to see what lay beyond. It terrified her to think of what danger may lurk in what was unknown, but Killian reassured her that it would all be fine. He and Liam knew what must be done. They understood the sea and their mission, and Killian swore to find his way back to her just as he had so many times before…

“I just wish that you didn’t have to go,” she’d said, unable to hide her tears in the early morning hours before his ship set sail. They’d run off together to the guest house in the garden, a special spot of theirs since they met when they were younger. For years it had been their hideaway. Killian called it their sanctuary, and Emma always thought that was an apt description.

“Believe me, love, if there were any way around this, I would see the course. You know I’d give anything to be here making you mine as soon as may be. But my brother needs me, and your father has been clear. We need these alliances for the good of the kingdom, and the safety of the people, you most importantly.”

“I know,” Emma agreed, understanding more than most how precious their alliances were with the kingdoms of all realms. This voyage, though long and arduous, would protect them for years to come, and was the last request of Killian’s brother Liam before Killian exited the navy. “You just…”

“I just what, love?” he asked, cupping the side of her cheek and watching her with those beautiful blue eyes of his that always made her dizzy. They were so focused in on her, as if the universe began and ended with what she was about to say. In a world where she was important but never felt truly seen, she’d grown addicted to such attentions. Killian truly knew her and still loved her, and she was more herself with him than with anyone she’d ever met. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him and savoring the warmth and electricity that came when he was close.

“You just made me love you so much, that letting you go feels like losing part of myself.”

The murmured curse he let loose before devouring her lips made Emma shiver with delight, but she was hardly cold. His touch was like a fire, sizzling through her and marking her as his, just as much as she was marking him as hers. She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, but it felt mere seconds later when they pulled apart. The brightness of the room and the daylight that was breaking signaled much more time had passed than seconds, but it wasn’t enough. No amount of time together ever would be.

“There’s nothing in this world or any other capable of keeping me from you, Emma. My love for you is constant. Not just for this life, but every one from here to always. Have faith in me, my love, because I promise I will be home to you as soon as I am able.”

Though the words were whispered so long ago, Emma still felt them wash against her skin as the sun began to sink over the tree line. Out here, in the back woods of the palace, she was totally alone, but if she couldn’t be with Killian, that solitude was all she could accept. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fantasize that he was here. Autumn’s chill was back once more. The year was up, and so too should his mission be. In a perfect world she’d hear the gentle crunch of footsteps and catch the subtle scent of ocean waves. The footsteps would approach with precision and determination until the moment just before he reached her where heat flared through her system. She fended off tears at how good her imagination was becoming, and then she felt him, the undeniable press of his body on hers that was so much more vivid than any daydream ever could be. Her eyes popped open and her heart took flight.

“Emma,” he said, nuzzling into her neck as he held her tight and the sound that came from her chest was one of desperation and relief. “Gods how I’ve missed you, love.”

“You came back,” she said, spinning in his hold and seeing that this was truly real. Killian was here and alive. He was somehow even more gorgeous than when he’d left, and he was looking at her with even more affection and love than he’d had before. Tall dark and handsome did no justice to all he was. He was perfection, and he was all hers.

“With a light like yours to return to, there was no other option, love. Trust and believe in that.”

He whispered the words of affirmation as her hand came over his chest. She felt the racing of his heart, and she knew, without his admitting it all that things had been the same for her him as they had for her. She may have been here, and he may have physically been worlds away, but her heart could not reside in a space without him. Now they were together again, and she was whole, happy, and unwilling to ever let him go.

Pulling him in by the collar of his navy coat, Emma almost wept when their lips met after so long a separation. His taste was just the same, his arms, holding her close, the warmest and most soothing home she’d ever known. She was safe here and hopeful, finally believing that the worst was behind them. From here on out things would be different. She and Killian would be together, and there’d never be cause for such sad partings ever again.

“I thought for certain that the love we shared before was as big as it could be…” he murmured, running his hands through her flowing hair and smiling at her, as if he was trying to convince himself that this wasn’t all a beautiful dream they’d both soon wake up from. “How wrong I was in such a thought. This love grows deeper every day. It can’t be quantified. It just…”

“It just is,” Emma echoed, and he agreed, kissing her again and grounding her in a happiness that had been missing for twelve long months. Only when they were breathless, did they break apart, but even then his forehead rested against hers, his arms surrounding her, giving them space to breathe each other in and surrender to their feelings.

“I’ve brought you something, Emma,” he finally said, and she could see the pride in his eyes at the mention of this gift. “It’s something I hope you’ll find worthy of a woman like you.”

Emma knew she’d cherish any parcel from her sailor, but the preemptive affirmations died on her lips as he pulled out a small velvet pouch. Inside the compartment was a ring with a band of white gold, and a green blue gem unlike any she’d ever seen. In the royal vaults there were many treasures belonging to her family, but none that looked like this. It was a sapphire, but colored in such a vibrant aqua hue it didn’t look like any stone she’d seen before. Yet it wasn’t the first time she’d seen this iridescent shade. In fact, it was one that always seemed to find the two of them some way or another.

“Killian, it’s gorgeous,” she said in awe, amazed at how much it looked like the lightest flecks of color in his piercing blue gaze. She knew that in her own green eyes there were flecks of this tone too, a shared sample of their souls, indistinguishable and utterly spectacular. “But you didn’t need to bring me anything. All I need is you, you know that.”

“I do, love. Believe me, a man doesn’t forget such miracles when he’s as blessed as I am. But you are to be my wife, and after searching for some time, I finally found the ring I know was meant for you.”

With gentle ease, he took her hand in his and placed the ring on her finger. It was a perfect fit, and matched the modest white gold of the band he’d given her in promise before he left. Emma knew he’d had the choice of any ring in the castle for his proposal, but he was determined to find something special just for her. She didn’t need anything more than the wedding that would come, but when he shared the origin of this particular gem, she felt its significance.

“I found this treasure at a time of great pain. I missed you so dearly, that even the sea could offer no distraction. Twelve weeks into a twelve-month journey and I was homesick, as I’ve never been before. I walked along the beach in port and found this in a tide pool, underneath a rising moon. Liam gave most of the crew some leave for the first time in ages, but there was nothing that I wanted when I knew you were waiting for me here.

“My brother insisted I get off the boat, despite my attempt at protest, and so I wandered for a while, thinking only of you. Of your beauty and your brilliance and the future you deserve, the one I will do anything to give you. The waves in that water are notoriously unruly and sporadic. They rage along the coast and filter into tide pools unlike our shores here, but the locals claim that the sea bring treasures and tricks alike from far off places. Needless to say I didn’t care about these stories. All I cared about was you. I was thinking that maybe I should come home, even though the mission was not over, and then I found this, glistening in the water just below.”

Emma looked down at the stone and their hands intertwined. She imagined each point of his memory, feeling it so surely, it was like she had been there too. It helped in easing the pain of separation, and she settled in the fact that soon their being parted would be just a distant remembrance, never to be repeated.

“The first time I held you in my arms for a dance, you were dressed in a gown of this shade. I’ll never forget that night as long as I live.”

“Neither will I,” Emma agreed, recalling her public debut. She was a girl of sixteen and Killian was the brother of one of her father’s most trusted Captains, a whole year older than her but already in her eyes so much more mature. Now, so much time had passed, but when he smiled at her the same boyish charm was ever present, and she fell under his spell, stepping into his arms as she would to share a dance. Out there, in the setting sun he held her close, guiding her though there was no music, and she tried not to cry the joyful tears that threatened to spill as he twirled her, eliciting a laugh and making her feel lighter than air.

“Finding this felt like a sign, that even we were parted, we would always be together. I carried it every moment since, knowing someday it would end up here, with you.”

“And now it’s here, and so are you,” she whispered, stealing another kiss from him and halting their dance. He was the sweetest man alive, of that she had no doubt, but suddenly that sweetness was not what she needed. What she needed was love, the love that only they shared, made real in a stolen, private moment.

Reading her mind and her wants with precision, Killian pivoted from dancing to sweeping her up into his arms. She laughed aloud at the motion but didn’t pull back far. Instead she clung to him as he strolled through the back way. A few minutes later, when they arrived back at the garden house she was in no way surprised. She hadn’t been out here since his leaving, but it was just as she remembered, and immediately her sense of inner peace solidified. This was everything she’d wanted and more.

The kiss he pressed on her once they were shut away inside was filled with heat and desire, and soon kisses devolved into so much more, a merging of two people who had missed each other fiercely and we were intent on tying themselves together once again. It was perfect, hard-fought reunion, and Emma would cherish the memory always. But perhaps no part was as special as the glow that came between them when she was wrapped up in his arms hours later, safe and happy as the dawn of a new morning began to break. The world was not bright enough to have created such vibrancy, that was all thanks to them and their true love. As a product of two soul mates, Emma had inherited a bit of magic herself, but that magic was always the strongest in the arms of her Killian.

“Gods above, Emma, you are my light, my truth, my home,” he murmured, his words placed between the lightest kisses that sent thrills of pleasure dancing across her skin. “I’ll love you forever, I give you my word.”

“Good,” she replied, silently affirming that she felt the same with a gentle kiss before finally giving in to the tiredness of her body. And luckily for both of them, the sweet dreams that came of their reunion were nothing compared to the joy of their life together. For they had found something better than wishes – a love so real it would live forever, and a bond so sure it would always lead them home.

………………

Where ever I am Where ever I go Whatever happens, this year I know That you'll be with me to the end When the cold sets in Like you told me all those years ago You hold my hand Where ever I lay And you guide me through come what may Bring the silence through the noise I still hear your voice I remember what I heard you say I'll be your lighthouse Shining bright from dusk till dawn I'll sing a song aloud So you'll hear a voice you know You'll find that somehow Where ever you are, where ever I am Is home Whenever I feel I'm all by myself And every word is a cry for help I just think of you and then I'm safe again I feel you close though you're somewhere else I'll be your lighthouse Shining bright from dusk till dawn I'll sing a song aloud So you'll hear a voice you know You'll find that somehow Where ever you are, where ever I am Is home Do you remember What we used to say? I'll be your lighthouse Shining bright from dusk till dawn I'll sing a song aloud So you'll hear a voice you know You'll find that somehow Where ever you are, where ever I am Is home I'll be your lighthouse Shining bright from dusk till dawn I'll sing a song aloud So you'll hear a voice you know You'll find that somehow Where ever you are, where ever I am Is home Where ever you are, where ever I am Is home

Post-Note: Wow, so first and foremost, if the person who requested this even still reads my fics (because it has literally been something like 4 years since they asked for this), I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. I am so sorry for making you wait so long, but I am also so grateful for your lovely prompt. What happiness this fic created for me as I wrote it. I hope you all get to share in that too as you read the story. I’m also shocked at how close I am getting to 200 chapters of the mixtape. I can’t tell if it is something that I should put on hold, or make a volume two perhaps, but in the meantime, thanks so much to all of you for reading, for commenting, and sending me amazing songs to include. It has meant the world to have your support, and I hope you’ll continue to join me on this slow but steady journey in cute CS oneshots!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186, Part 187, Part 188, Part 189, Part 190, Part 191, Part 192, Part 193

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan au #cs fic #cs fluff #cs cuteness #cs ff #cs au #cs one shot #lieutenant duckling #sailor killian #princess emma #prompted fic #cs mixtape #captain swan mixtape #Mixtape #lighthouse

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years ago

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Welllp This Is...Festive Fic, Version 4.0

Hello, hey, hi internet. Because it’s December and apparently I have done this for the past three years, it’s time for me to shamelessly promote the absurd number of holiday-related words I have written, most of which end with Emma Swan and Killian Jones making out. Like, it is a genuinely absurd number of words. I have no reasonable excuse for the amount of holiday-related words I am now promoting, except that I really love the holidays and The Muppet Christmas Carol. Under the cut, with some semblance of organization.

Happy holidays, internet.

Multi Chapters

To Make the Season Bright Rating: M Words: 49,683 Chapters: 5

It’s just one weekend. At Christmas. In New York. With everyone there. With Killian there. It’s fine. Emma doesn’t mind – he’s always there and she wants him to be there and it’ll be good. Great, even. Festive. She’s looking forward to it. She just hopes she doesn’t do something stupid. Like shout feelings in his face. That probably wouldn’t be very festive.

The Gift Receipt Rating: M Words: 46,244 Chapters: 5

It genuinely makes sense in her head. After all, Mary Margaret is being Mary Margaret and Emma just needs five seconds to herself and for her friends to get off her back and saying she can’t talk to Killian Jones because she and Killian Jones once went on a very bad date is the perfect excuse. It’s also not true, but whatever. It works. Until Emma needs to bring someone home for Christmas. To get the entire town off her back. So, she comes up with another plan and another lie and pretending to get back together with a guy she was never actually with will make their inevitable break-up incredibly easy. It makes sense. Seriously. That is, of course, until Killian agrees and there’s far too much pie and radio hits of the 70s and opinions on animated Christmas classics. It gets a little more complicated after that.

Older Now, But Not Done Hoping Rating: T Words: 25,577 Chapters: 3

Killian Jones has lost his festive spirit. It’s been forcibly removed by corporate America and private developers and how much alcohol the customers at his bar drink every night. Although, he supposes, that means he’s making a profit, but that also feels a little Scrooge-esque and he doesn’t have time for visits from ghosts. Because he’s suddenly got a whole schedule in front of him, written out and planned by his roommate. To reclaim their mutual and collective festivity. Together. Oh, and he’s in love with her. At Christmas. And all the time, really. This is going to be great.

It’s the Thought That Counts Rating: M Words: 27,178 Chapters: 3

It was, in theory, a good idea. It was, in theory, an absolutely fantastic idea. Because there was still, sometimes, a crisis or two in Storybrooke and nothing would be more chaotic than trying to find a Christmas present on Main Street, while also trying to keep said Christmas present a secret. Ordering gifts on the internet makes sense. It’s just a few clicks and online sales and the presents will be there in plenty of time for Christmas to be perfect. Emma and Killian are positive. Except then the presents don’t show up and it’s Christmas Eve and plan B isn’t so much a plan as it is just a bit of pre-holiday desperation and the entire town knows what they’re up to.

But Once a Year Rating: T Words: 44,492 Chapters: 5

This is a trick.

It has to be. Something Pan planned, or some nonsense only possible in Neverland, because one second Emma’s sitting outside the Echo Caves and wondering how exactly things could possibly get worse, and then the world decides to take her up on the challenge. She’s not where she was. Or when she was, either.

And the future isn’t entirely what Emma expects it to be, but that might not be entirely horrible and Christmas with a husband and a family that quite clearly loves her is only kind of messing with her head. God bless us, every one.

One Shots

Where the Love Light Gleams Rating: T Words: 5,125

Killian was going to kill his brother.

Which wasn’t very festive, but neither was being away from his girlfriend on Christmas Eve and this was all Liam’s fault. Or so he would claim. While rationalizing his current tendency to wallow, and stare at his phone and he’d spent far too much time on his phone that night.

Whatever, it was Christmas Eve. That was definitely a reasonable excuse.

All These Things and More Rating: T Words: 8,821

Festive nature is not something Emma Swan is particularly familiar with. Even less so after nearly breaking her ankle in the middle of Central Park, and she can’t believe it isn’t someone’s job to de-ice those stairs.

As it is, her ankle appears to be swelling with every passing moment, and she can’t get her keys off the floor, and she’s pleasantly surprised she doesn’t flinch when the door across the hall from her apartment opens. Or when the guy who presumably lives behind that door offers his help. With her dropped keys, and, it turns out, just about everything else in Emma’s life.

‘Tis the season, or whatever.

The Couples That We Know Rating: T Words: 6,157

Technically speaking, they’re not supposed to be dating. Each other, at least.

For Killian Jones, there are plenty of reasons to like working at Pendragon Publishing. Good pay, vaguely acceptable benefits, not-that-bad coffee in the break room. But there are also some things he kind of, sort of…hates. Namely the way dating his co-worker is possibly against the rules, and how that means they can’t go to the annual holiday party. Together, at least.

So, enlisting the help of their best friends only makes sense. Pretend to date other people, avoid any hint of suspicion, and drink all the wine Pendragon’s party-planning committee can offer them. Perfect plan, really.

Golden Days of Yore Rating: T Words: 7,081

It all happened much quicker than Emma was entirely prepared for. A string of words, and a sprint out of the throne room, and Killian’s hand was impossibly warm in hers, twisting through side streets of Camelot with a battalion of guards on their collective heels. That was to be expected, she supposed. Refusing a proposal wasn’t particularly diplomatic, after all.

Should Auld Acquaintance be Forgot Rating: T Words: 9,258 Holiday: New Year’s

Honestly, Emma was less mad about the whole thing than she expected. Disappointed, that was the word. And everyone knew that disappointed was far worse than mad.

Because being dateless on New Year’s Eve was one thing. Being dateless while pining over a roommate with a secret Match.com profile and apparent relationship-type desires that were the complete opposite of her was—

Disappointing, really.

If Killian kissed anybody, she was going to drink an entire bottle of champagne by herself.

The Best Laid Plains Rating: T Words: 4,040

Emma knows what she wants. And she remembers what the qualifications are. She just needs some help with them. Or: She and Killian once decided they’d only get married if one of them came out with an outlandish proposal.

Following the Recipe Rating: T Words: 3,802

Emma can’t bake cookies. That doesn’t stop her from engaging in cookie-baking competitions. At Christmas. And Killian is more than happy to help.

Grounded Rating: T Words: 6,064

Being stuck at the airport is the worst at normal times. At Christmas, it’s at least ten-thousand times worse. Unless you manage to make friends with the vaguely attractive, frustratingly charming guy sitting next to you in the terminal.

Carol of the [Wedding] Bells Rating: T Words: 7,926

Going to Vegas with your friends for Christmas? Totally normal. Getting married to one of your friends while in Vegas at Christmas? Might take a bit more explaining. Especially when neither one of you can remember it.

More Than You Could Ever Know Rating: T Words: 5,040

It’s the perfect plan. So, she told the new guy at work that she was already married and couldn’t date him. Fine, no big deal. Emma has someone more than wiling to pretend to be her husband and a friend more than willing to do her pre-party hair. She’s certain everything will work out. The very last thing she expects is for Killian to be jealous. Because she might have picked the wrong Jones brother to play doting husband.

Once Again As in Olden Days Rating: T Words: 6,462

She’s absolutely freezing cold. It’s a dumb metaphor, one that only serves to make Emma even more pissed off than she already is. Because two hours ago it was summer. But a few more hours before that, she was also locked in a tower guarded by a fire-breathing dragon. And now she’s outside. With her kid. And a pirate that isn’t hers, explicitly, but keeps staring at her like he wouldn’t mind if he was. So maybe it’s not the worst. Maybe she’ll be able to get warm eventually.

In Case of Emergency, Call… Rating: T Words: 5,671 Holiday: Thanksgiving Killian just wants to make cookies. Alone. On Thanksgiving. What he gets is a rolled ankle and a hospital trip and a best friend worried out of her mind.

To Grandmother’s House We Go Rating: T Words: 5,480 Holiday: Thanksgiving There’s no Thanksgiving equivalent in the Enchanted Forest, but there is a little bit of magic and that’s enough to bring a family together across holidays and realms.

Whistled for Icing Rating: T Words: 5,812 Holiday: Thanksgiving Elsa left behind a bit of magic in the forest and the citizens of Storybrooke are ready to put it to good use.

Want Something That Will Last Forever Rating: T Words: 5,093

The weight in his jacket pocket is getting heavier. Burning a hole. A metaphorical one. Because a literal one would probably freak David out and David is already worried enough and Killian is a very good friend. Who is willing to help David plan his proposal to Mary Margaret. Even if it messes everything else up in the process.

A Fair, Even-Handed, Noble Adjustment of Things Rating: T Words: 9,267

Emma just wants to do something good. Give back. Maybe get a few bonus points. Metaphorically speaking. Not the last one. That defeats the purpose of all of this. But she can’t really think straight because he keeps humming and using nicknames and stealing all the flour. And she’d give up all the bonus points she’s, maybe, accumulated by, possibly, doing good if she could just remember what his name is. This is not going the way she planned. At all.

Heart to Heart and Hand in Hand Rating: T Words: 7,052

She was cold. She was tired. She did not want to be ice skating. She wasn’t really ice skating. She was just…kind of standing there – while getting yelled at by security guards and stared at by her boyfriend and they were being pushed off the ice. Not literally. And Emma knew she was being a Grinch or, maybe, just Max the Dog because she wasn’t in control enough to be a Grinch, but Killian wanted to go ice skating and well…fake it ‘til you make it festivity, right?

Kiss Her Once [For Me] Rating: T Words: 9,500

To say that the last year has been hectic would be the greatest understatement in the history of the modern world. Or, like, libel. In print, it’s libel. Because the last year has been filled with political promises and campaigns and far more press conferences than Emma realized were possible. And now, with Washington D.C. ahead of them, the only thing Emma really wants is to figure out how many boxes she’ll need to move all her stuff. That is, of course, until Killian finds her sitting in the middle of Regina’s hallway, a distinct lack of alcohol in her system, and the guarantee that he’s got a plan. For fun. Of the festive variety. It includes mistletoe.

Prompt: Santa!Con Rating: T Words: 2,444

Killian is very drunk. There are people dressed like Santa everywhere. And Emma isn’t sure she heard the question correctly. She might be a little drunk too, honestly.

Prompt: Killian Wakes Up Without Any Blankets Rating: T Words: 2,444

He’s freezing. Presumably because his wife — who he loves very much — has once again stolen all the blankets.

Tripping Over the Blue Line

Concussion Protocol Rating: T Words: 8,165 Holiday: Thanksgiving

She doesn’t see it at first. And, somehow, that’s even worse. Because the replay is in slow motion and they keep showing it and Roland won’t stop yelling and Henry won’t stop cursing and Emma’s going to do damage to her thumb if she keeps slamming it against her phone.

He doesn’t play the entire third period.

And Emma keeps tugging on her ring. Ruth keeps staring.

Dinner on the Road Rating: T Words: 1,252 Holiday: Thanksgiving

The Jones Line finds a restaurant for Thanksgiving and a brand-new look for its youngest member.

Post-Game Comments Rating: T Words: 4,972 Holiday: Thanksgiving Pairing: Will x Belle

Being in a bad mood a few minutes removed from feeling as if one of his legs had rather quickly and effectively shattered in multiple places seemed more than fair to Will Scarlet. Having all of that happen on Thanksgiving weekend, with his only recently-labeled girlfriend in the stands made it worse, too. Ten-thousand times worse.

What made it better surprised him. In a pleasant sort of way, perfectly fit for the holiday season.

Because he’d never been known as a very good post-game quite, after all.

A Few Days Off for Christmas Rating: T Words: 11,903

Matt’s first Christmas at the brownstone means several things. Chinese food. Bad bread pudding. And unexpected guests.

A Few Days Off for Christmas — Part Two Rating: T Words: 8,872

In which Killian Jones isn’t as retired as he originally claimed to be, cute kids continue to be cute, and home ownership is pondered against the backdrop of the world’s most competitive air hockey tournament.

Or: Christmas at the Vankald brownstone

A Chance of Snow Showers Rating: T Words: 3,372

Everything’s a competition on this team. So no one is all that surprised when Killian agrees to race during family skate. Even with a baby strapped to his chest.

Dropping Gloves…In the Name of Festive Fashion Rating: T Words: 3,038

It’s probably one of the more ridiculous things any of them have ever done. It’s also one of the better ideas any of them has ever had – it’s festive and in the spirit and the fans will love it. And maybe it’s kind of fun because it ends with another win and some positive press before the break and Phillip’s jacket is really just…a work of fashion art.

All Knotted Up Rating: T Words: 2,188

He’s never actually done anything like this – brought a girl home for Christmas. No, not just a girl – Emma. Emma was coming to the brownstone for Christmas and the entire Vankald family would be there with traditions and bread pudding and there had to be gifts.

He needed to buy a gift. Or, at least, get a gift. And the list of people who wouldn’t laugh right in his face at the idea of Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, freaking out about that was growing more and more slim by the minute.

We’ll Take a Cup [Defense] Of Kindness Rating: M Words: 19,204 Chapters: 2 Holiday: New Year’s

It’s one night. New Year’s Eve. And a whole list of rules. Because Regina might have actually lost her mind. Or maybe that’s just Emma. Because they’ve played a million games in two days, or it’s at least felt that way, and planning an outdoor practice a few weeks before the Olympics seemed like a good idea at one point. Now it just seems insane. So she’s going to wear this dress and kiss her boyfriend. A lot. He’s good. Better than good. Great. The greatest. It’s New Year’s Day and, yeah, sure it’s freezing, but Killian hasn’t actually tried to push Scarlet on the Subway tracks yet so that seems like a step in the right direction. So he’s a little distracted a few weeks before the Olympics, but that’s fine. It’s good. Or it’ll be good. Eventually. Soon. In the meantime he’s probably just going to kiss his girlfriend. A lot.

First Line Center Rating: T Words: 9,508 Chapters: 2 Holiday: New Year’s

She hadn’t read the invitation. It hadn’t changed in years, after all - a set of rules and expectations for a New Year’s party that they were all going to break anyway because the most traditional thing about this team was flouting tradition. So, Emma had mostly ignored it. Until. A shout and Killian refusing to wear a tie and something crashing in her kitchen, one kid worried about another and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something. There was a joke about fresh ice to be made, she was sure.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #captain swan #welllp this is holiday fic #like a lot of holiday fic #never say never but i very much doubt there'll be much new holiday fic posted from me #with the exception of maybe that last blue line one shot #we'll see how it goes #but i have written the holiday fics for the holiday cards #so! progress!

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