#cssns21

[kmomof4]

Ohhhhhh, I LOVED this one!!!

Self Promo Sunday: "The Belle Dame Emma"

This short MC fic was my @cssns21 entry, and I tried my hand at a fae version of Emma and a knight version of Killian with it. It took a fair amount of inspiration from the classic Keats poem "La Belle Dame sans Merci", the lines at beginning and end of the chapters are from the poem, as well as from my desire to explore the Dark Swan idea from a different angle, with more of Emma's fighting back against those tendencies as we saw at first. At any rate, as I am going back through my @cssns contributions, I was excited to find this one next. I hope you will enjoy this if you didn't see it back then, and even if you did, maybe you will enjoy it again...

Summary: Legend has it that the fae woman in the meadow will ensnare any who dare enter her domain, but the knight who chances a meeting can tell there is more to the story than superstition and gossip has allowed. The path to the truth and redemption may be fraught with dangers - to the both of them - but is it not the sworn duty of a true knight to help any who may be in need?

**Thanks a million once more to @caught-in-the-filter who made the gorgeous cover art for this fic! I absolutely love it! **

{Also available on AO3, if that is your preference}

by: @snowbellewells

Part One

I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful - a faery’s child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

Some folks say that she was always malevolent. Born to beguile and lure the unworthy to their doom. The fae, after all, were not to be trifled with, and those who dared do so learned their lesson at high cost.

The whispers around the fog-wisped edges of her meadow haunt, the word spoken as warning with anxious glances over the shoulder, was that her beauty was matched only by her fury. That she was possessed with a thirst to punish those who would be lured by her fair form and bewitching song. Those who were wise came to skirt wide around those fallow fields in that sparsely populated corner of the kingdom, for it was said that even those of stoutest resolve and pure intentions found this powerful nymph - be it by her face alone or some magic she wielded to draw them into her web - nigh impossible to resist.

Some retellings of her legend had her thrown from the sparkling court of the fair folk for her cruel and deviant nature. Others claimed she possessed more power and magic than any single faery had before her, and it had simply been too much - bending her better nature into madness. Still other storytellers would paint her more as a tragic sacrifice. The Fae Folk must have one who punished those unworthy of their own kind, as well as the humans who got too close to discovering their kingdom’s gates or who would dare to upset the fragile balance of peace between the two species - who might dare to think themselves equal to, and attempt to win the heart of, a faery. She was simply the one chosen to mete out these judgements. A Guardian and a Gatekeeper, as it were.

And though there is often a grain of truth to any rumor, very rarely do such stories paint their characters as they truly are. Not in full. And the ballad of awe and fear told of the beautiful, but deadly, lady Emma - La Belle Dame Sans Merci - was just such a tale. The whispers bore fragments of reality, but could not explain it all. Though she was not blameless, she was not completely lost. Perhaps there only needed to be some small spark of light, some reason for her to look within for any shred of mercy she might still possess.

~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~

The wind rushed across his forehead, lifting the strands of his dark hair from his heated skin pleasantly and ruffling his steed’s mane before dancing on to bend the grasses along the quiet roadside and tug at the leaves on nearby trees. It was a pleasant morning to be about, though the way seemed strangely untraveled since his turn-off at the last crossroad. Killian Jones, knight-at-arms, found he didn’t truly mind the peacefulness and lack of fellow travelers, enjoying the sounds of breeze and birdsong and mulling his own thoughts. Though adventure, daring battle, and quests of honor made his blood pound with vigor, causing excitement to tingle in his nerve endings and a sense of fulfillment in being where he was needed and doing what he must flooded his being, he could admit if only to himself on this placid afternoon, that he sometimes still wondered if there was more.

He certainly did not wish to change his profession. He would never be happy as a blacksmith, farmer, or tradesman; anything so mundane, necessary as those roles were, would never satisfy him for long. And yet, he had begun to feel the weight of many battles, the lives he had held in his hands, and the blood he could sometimes still see behind closed eyelids, had begun to haunt him. If there was always another fight, another enemy to vanquish, more violence and death and Darkness, were they making any difference? Was a glimmer of the light they fought for shining through, or were they merely treading water, waiting to be subsumed?

It was what had brought him to this quiet roadside meadow alone, rather than back on the high road with his fellows, moving on to the next castle and the next foe they needed to vanquish. He had called out that he would rejoin them further down the road; it was not unusual for one of them to split off on some personal venture from time to time. It was a life of constant movement, never truly being at ease or settling anywhere, and yet it made sense that sometimes one would need to pause, linger, and think for a moment where it was still and inviting enough to do so.

Killian knew he had traveled in this corner of the kingdom before - though it had been some time back. He did not remember the way this road had curved and twined, becoming narrowed and more removed from the larger surroundings as it followed a trickling brook along its way. The sounds of the village some miles back now, of other travelers whom he had not seen for some time, even the rustling of leaves and grasses and the twittering of the birds seemed to fade. A stillness encircled him such as he had never experienced before. It might have been unnerving if he had not been seeking quiet and peace to think, answers for the questions that troubled him. His mount danced fitfully on occasion, tossing his shaggy black head as if ill at ease, but Killian found he was too entranced, too breathlessly curious to turn back now. Plus, Shadow was a spirited animal and his fitfulness did not truly alarm his rider. There was a reason only Killian seemed able to handle him. 

The brooke, and the path following it, both turned again sharply, and Killian ducked to ride under the low-hanging branch of a tree, and when he sat back up in his saddle once more, the sight around that bend brought him up short. The creek came to a stop at last, running into a still pond, dark and motionless, and on the far side of the pond was some sort of cave, its mouth wide open as if beckoning those brave enough to explore. Flowers grew strewn through tall grasses, and all of it was waving soundlessly in the breeze like a beckoning sea.

Again, Killian found he was almost mystified by his own impulse to dismount and come closer. To seek out every secret corner of this meadow hideaway. He knew well enough not to venture into dark and unknown caves and underground passages, and yet the pull was nigh irresistible. He stood in wonderment, taking it all in as he stroked Shadow’s nose, soothing the restless gelding.

“What is it, lad?” Killian murmured to his horse, scratching behind its ears and trying to keep a firm grip on the reins as the creature continued to shuffle and toss its head.

Suddenly, the knight sensed he and his steed were no longer alone, a strong scent of apple blossoms and sweet honey stirred on the breeze and a chill ran over his skin, making the small hairs on his arms stand on end.

A dulcet, hypnotic voice spoke on the horse’s other side, a delicate feminine hand stroking over the animal’s nose caused Shadow to calm instantly. “Perhaps,” it offered subtly, “he knows something you do not.”

Killian had never known Shadow to gentle for anyone else; the creature rarely grew that still even for him, and the chill which had run through him a moment before now shivered down his spine. “And what might that be?” he questioned stoutly, not allowing any of his trepidation to show in his tone. “And who are you and what might you know of it?”

A form so fair, so ethereally bright and beautiful that he knew immediately she must be more than human, stepped into view from the other side of his horse. Long, glowing golden hair hung to her waist, twined with buttercups and bluebells, her feet were bare and gracefully shaped, her eyes a verdant green he wanted to fall into like a thick carpet of clover and grass, and the slight tilt of her voluptuously shaped pale pink lips somehow seemed to hint she already knew she had entranced him. The lady who had materialized there in the meadow at his side was breathtaking; her smile serene and inviting, her voice low and melodic, drawing him to lean in closer to hear what she would say next.

“Do you not hear strange tales of this place, warning travelers to be on their guard?” she tilted her head slightly, studying him as if bemused.

“I am a knight of the Realm, milady,” he replied, “Sworn to go where others may fear to tread, to protect the helpless and vanquish dangers wherever they might be. Seldom am I in one place long enough to hear all the local legends and superstitions, but even so, I would not let such talk turn me from my duty.”

That pale, lovely face continued to meet his own gaze head-on, not doubting, but merely watching as if weighing his response and gauging the sincerity of his words. Humming lightly to herself, she stepped away from him and Shadow, turning towards the pond’s smooth surface, almost as if taking for granted that he would follow.

Killian found to his chagrin that he had blindly followed two strides in her wake before realizing he had done so. Glancing back over her shoulder with arched brow and genuine question in her tone she asked, “Your duty brought you here then?”

Dipping his chin slightly toward the metal armor that covered his chest, Killian offered her a slight show of respect. He was not sure just where he had wandered, if he was trespassing on some royal land and this was some trick to ensnare him in wrongdoing, if he had wandered into some sort of enchanted space and she was a siren risen from the depths, or perhaps she was their next evil wizard or monster to fight, taking on a disguise of fair form to spy upon them and learn their weaknesses. As much as he felt a pull toward her and wanted to stay there speaking with her, there was at the same time a warring sense of unease in his being. The day was wearing on, he had yet to make arrangements for the night, and he had given his word to find his fellows once more as well.

“That I do not yet know,” he finally replied. “I broke off from a larger company at the last bend in the road. This meadow was so peaceful and inviting, and I suppose curiosity led me further as much as anything.”

For a time neither spoke, and Killian noticed for the first time that all other sounds had ceased as well. The rustling of the leaves and grasses, the birdsong and the plash of the brook into the larger pool were all muted; every bit of their surroundings gone strangely still. He knew it impossible, but for a moment it seemed as if he were frozen in a still life, unmoving, unblinking, like a statue carved in stone.

The beautiful vision stared into the water silently, so long and so deeply he wondered if she had forgotten his presence. Killian did not know whether to address her further or to turn and go, nor was he certain that his feet would move to turn from her if he did attempt to leave.

As eerily still as all was around him, he felt more concern in that instant that he had upset her, troubled or disturbed her somehow with his presence or his answers to her questions. Urging Shadow forward, he came to stand beside the mysterious lady once more, reaching out a hand meant to soothe or comfort.

But before he could make contact she whirled to meet him, her face a mask of pained struggle, her eyes wide and alarmed and so much darker than the jeweled green they had been before. Her voice was harsher, rough as she screeched for him to stand back, to get away from there. He didn’t understand the transformation, but he could see she was nearly vibrating with tension, trembling as if some force wanted to burst from her and she could scarcely hold it back. What had been a gentle breeze now howled about them, and the still pond was whipped into choppy waves. Killian stumbled back, dumbstruck, uncertain what was happening.

The idyllic beauty of his surroundings and the pleasant stranger before him had been changed instantaneously. None of the calm tranquility or gentle smiles which had lured him further in lingered now, and the enthralling vision before him now radiated tension and warning, her voice still rasping as if dragged over glass, saying that he must flee, she could only hold back so long.

Nearly as confused as he was alarmed or frightened, Killian shook his head, anxious to clear it of the doubt swirling through - had he imagined everything before? Or was he imagining things now? The anguish on that fair brow was enough to send him away for the moment, the pale maiden well on her way to enchanting him looked stretched to her limits, beseeching him to leave while he was still able. The chilvalrous knight he was fought against leaving such a one in pain or distress, but he also knew that he did not understand the situation, did not know all that was needed to act wisely.

And so, reluctantly, he swung up into Shadow’s saddle, his steed at least feeling no qualms about leaving. The beast tossed his head and wheeled to gallop off at the first mere prodding, hide quivering as he carried his rider back the way they had come in haste.

Killian, for his part, felt compelled to look back. For a moment, he could still see her form, curling in on herself slightly as she seemed to double over, and growing ever smaller in his view. The whole vista seemed to waver, partially obscured by a rising haze, until he could not have pointed out exactly where it had been.

Soon after, Shadow had carried them back to the main road, and Killian urged him to turn back onto it, to once more find his fellows, quite possibly in the next small village. Yet, though he appeared safely back on course, Killian could not forget what he had seen and heard… haunted by the face of the troubled maiden.

~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~

The faery, Emma, sagged in relief as the knight finally rode from view. She was breathlessly grateful for the mist which rose up from the surface of the pool, and the very air itself, now heavy and charged and hiding her from view, where before it had been so fresh and light with Spring. No wonder the man had been drawn to the small oasis. With the flowers and cool breeze and sparkling waters, her hidden grotto was made to be inviting, dangerously appealing. As was she herself - in form and face - or so she had been told when the curse was placed upon her.

Sinking to her knees in the tall grass, the thin blades and the faces of the daisies both brushed her skin if trying to offer comfort, Emma panted rapidly in effort to regain her breath. She had managed to hold it back, the dark power which had been twined with the natural light fae magic inside her. Her song, once capable of brightening skies, coaxing plants to blossom, and raising spirits that were broken or bowed, now would ensnare and entwine those same lost souls who might cross her path, draining them and never allowing them to leave.

One solitary tear slipped down her cheek as her breathing calmed and she contemplated the change wrought upon her being against her will. It kept her even from her own kind; loved ones who might ease the hurt and loneliness. For she did not know for certain if they were immune to the strange siren call she had been infected with, and she could not bear to risk such folly. It was horrifying enough to have almost trapped and harmed the handsome stranger who had stumbled upon her hideaway, but she would not surve being the death of one she loved.

Sadly, Emma finally managed to stand again, making her way slowly back to the mouth of the cavern where she spent so much of her time hidden away from the trees and flowers, the sunshine and fair breezes and springtime that she loved for fear of her curse withering it all and destroying others who wandered near, appreciating the same beauty of which she had once been the caretaker. Folly it had been to venture out today, and yet she had been unable to help herself, needing to see and smell and touch the bounty she had been denied. Then it had seemed the knight had just appeared.

Those eyes… a new sort of pang in her heart twinged at the reflection. They had been so blue, searching and deep, as pristine and sparkling as the waters before her and seeking to understand as if he sensed her pain. What an idea! Emma shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the frail hope. That could lead nowhere but disaster for the both of them. A proud, strong young life cut down for no reason if he did return. She was not sure exactly how her powers would snare him in thrall, drain him of life, only that the dark and twisted caster had proclaimed it would be so. She had managed to hold the welling of destructive energy she could feel rising within herself until the man had gone. And normally she managed to stay hidden well enough, removed from all others, that she did not chance unleashing it.

What had drawn her to this one? Caused her to show herself? Why had it almost seemed as if the knight could sense something was wrong? She did not know, and it troubled her, but there was no one to ask for advice. Quite possibly no answers to be had at all. She knew no other faery who had been punished in such a manner.

Turning to slink back into her cavern, Emma’s shoulders slumped. She certainly couldn’t risk being seen again this day; her strength was far too diminished to fight the poison surging to escape if any other hapless being discovered her. Such a horrible, unending punishment, for an unknowing, well-intended mistake, her spirit railed fruitlessly once again. How could she have known that bestowing her innocent heart in love would bring her here?

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

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

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @anmylica @xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl

@spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @stahlop

@xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @kday426 @superchocovian @jonesfandomfanatic

@motherkatereloyshipper @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @lfh1226-linda @linda8084

@winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @myfearless-love @undercaffinatednightmare

@belovedcreation @ultraluckycatnd @drowned-dreamer @ineffablecolors @goforlaunchcee

[spartanguard]

most wanted (7/11) [CSSNS 2021]

Summary: Killian Jones has been tracking Emma Swan, notorious cat burglar, across the realm as she’s wanted for murder. The sooner he finds her, the faster he gets back to his daughter. But meeting an enchanting lass in a small village—along with Miss Swan’s feline familiar (perhaps too familiar)—definitely affects his plans; this case might not be as open-and-shut as he’d like.

A/N: Sorry to keep y'all waiting again—it's still been busy at work! BUT: this story is DONE! So the rest should go up in a timely manner. Thanks to the ladies in my Nano discord for all the support during April Camp that let me get this done! Eternal thanks to the best beta ever @optomisticgirl​ and to @cssns​ for putting on the event each year. And thank you for your patience, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait! 

rated T | 4.3k words | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | AO3

The sun's rays had hardly crested the horizon when he rose with them; no surprise that he didn’t sleep in when he wasn’t on Granny’s plush beds. His ward, however, was still fast asleep and snoring—rather adorably, if he had to admit. 

He looked over at her; at some point, she’d curled up on her side, facing him, and her lips were slightly parted. If things had gone differently, he would have been sorely tempted to wake her with a kiss, angelic as she looked. Instead, he was just sore, knowing the potential treachery behind that innocent facade. 

Despite the tenuous peace they’d arrived at last night, he was still guarded when it came to her. Specifically, when it came to protecting his heart. He’d been through too much to let it get damaged again; even if it was tougher than it used to be, that didn’t mean he wanted to put it through undue abuse. 

And, no matter what she said, she was still wanted for murder. Even if she was innocent, she was still in the periphery of that tragic event, which wasn’t a good look. (And considering Graham had no next of kin, it was up to Killian to see his death avenged.)

As if she could sense she was being watched—actually, given her upbringing, she probably could—her eyes fluttered open and found his. “Morning,” she said sleepily. “Do you always watch the people you’ve arrested sleep?”

A flirtatious quip threatened to escape, but he bit it back. “No; I was just lamenting the lack of Granny’s breakfast.”

“Ugh, why’d you have to remind me?” she groaned. “I mean, I could give it a shot if I had anything to cook, but I’m pretty sure her grill was magic—or just incredibly well seasoned.”

“Either are likely, I suppose.”

As it was, they noshed on a couple more sandwiches before packing up camp and heading out for the day. Both were fairly silent for the first hour or so, simply enjoying the sound of Roger’s footsteps among the waking forest noises and crisp morning air. A polite amount of distance was still kept in the saddle but yesterday’s hostility was mostly gone. Still—he wasn’t going to let Emma fall against him any time soon, and she clearly wasn’t about to on her own volition, either. 

It was Emma who finally broke the morning stillness. 

“What you said about your brother—how much of that was true?” she asked, calling back to their conversation by the docks.

“Most of it,” he answered. He’d long since learned to minimize the fiction in his lies; perhaps something she needed to figure out. “Like I said, we were sold into servitude together; he was a few years older, so it was up to him to look out for me. The crew certainly wasn’t going to. And then once we got out, it was straight into the Navy. He climbed the ranks a bit faster than me, though; he was incredibly smart. The last vessel I served aboard, he was the captain; I was his first mate and lieutenant.” 

“But I thought you were a Captain?” she said, confused. “Or was that inaccurate, too?” Her voice was gently laced with accusation.

“No, I technically was—just not for very long,” he explained. “Liam died on that last mission. Was killed, being a bloody arrogant fool. So I assumed the title for our return trip, and went AWOL as soon as I was done reporting to command.” 

“And then came the downward spiral?”

“Aye.” At least she’d sensed the truth in that. “Though nothing much came of it.”

“Does it ever?” she huffed. 

“You’ve led more of a lawless life than me; I think you’d be better to answer that one.”

It was perhaps a cruel jab, but not entirely untrue; and he wasn’t about to divulge his entire life story without hearing any of hers.

Of course, that’s when they began to near another town and actually came across some morning traffic—as much as three horses and a couple carriages could be considered traffic—and they settled back into silence until potentially overhearing ears were gone.

“I only stayed in Storybrooke for a few years,” Emma started, “until I was 14 or 15. As much as Granny thought she was getting me on the straight and narrow, I was really just...perfecting my art,” she explained. 

“Getting better at pickpocketing?”

“Yeah, that. I always returned everything, though, at least until the last grab. That’s when I ran away again.”

“Why?”

She paused for a minute—long enough to make him wonder if he was the first to ask that. “Well, you’ve seen Storybrooke. Even if I wanted a home, a family, I didn’t want that. I saw girls not much older than me getting married and starting families and if that was all that lay ahead, it wasn’t for me. So I ran off before anyone could try to tie me down again.”

“Ruby’s not married yet,” he pointed out.

“Only because her first fiance died.” Ah; that was a good counterpoint. “But she and her girlfriend probably will soon.” Then she sighed. “And I’m probably going to miss it. Dammit.”

There wasn’t much he could say in response to that, but it didn’t matter anyway as they were entering the town. “Lean against me,” he murmured, against his better judgment. 

“What?” she hissed, stiffening contrarily. 

“If you lean against me, I can hide the shackles from view,” he explained. “Unless you’d like people staring at the prisoner.” Really, he just wanted to avoid drawing undue attention—a loving couple stood out far less than a criminal in custody and her captor. He’d have avoided the town altogether, but the only alternate route would have added a day’s travel. 

She didn’t comply right away, but quickly settled against him when she noticed someone working outside the first home on the edge of town. Killian didn’t hesitate to settle his arms over hers, covering her wrists from view. 

As expected, the homeowner hardly gave them a glance, nor did the rest of the town. They easily blended in with the thickening crowd as they approached the town center, and Killian had to admit that it was far too easy to play the doting lover; he had to restrain himself from pressing a kiss to her temple. 

Bloody hell, why had he even suggested this? It felt far too natural to hold her tight in his arms. It was hardly acting. Sure, he could play it off as a decoy to prevent any other bounty hunter from catching onto their trail and trying to claim the prize for their own (it did happen, though Killian had never done so, nor fallen victim to such a scheme), but that was a half truth at best. 

At least they weren’t stopping—but they were only halfway through town and he was already regretting his decision. 

It was impossible to tell from his position what Emma thought, but she also seemed to be playing her role with ease. 

He could only hope she didn’t feel the racing pace of his heart for the duration of their shared contact. 

(It was also at this point that he noticed the lighter-colored hair at the roots of her part; it was odd that he only noticed it then, but he supposed he was so desperate for a distraction that he was picking up on minutiae. At least this made it obvious she was concealing her natural hair color—which gave him a weird sense of relief that she had indeed been lying about one thing.)

After an agonizing amount of time, they finally found themselves on the other side of the town. Emma sat up straighter, putting space between them, nearly as soon as the road began to narrow, but Killian still waited for the village to be farther behind them before stopping.

Lunch was a quiet affair. He knew that he was wrestling with his conflicting thoughts towards Emma; it wasn’t as easy to see what kind of warring thoughts were going through her mind, but the furrow of her brow as she worked on her ham sandwich made it obvious she was at odds with herself over something.

Of course, the only reason he noticed was because he kept stealing glances at her like some lovelorn school boy—and the awkward moment when he looked over to find her staring back didn’t help matters at all. (Or the fact that they could only move a few feet apart, but he wasn’t ready to undo the longer shackle yet.)

He busied himself with organizing his saddlebag as she finished her meal—it was already pristine, but it was a distraction—so he didn’t think much of it when she wiped the crumbs off on her skirt and turned to face him.

“When is your birthday?” she asked.

He looked at her incredulously. “What?”

“I’m trying to break the ice, considering the last couple hours have been painfully awkward. Should I have gone with something harder, like your favorite color?”

Well, that had her desired effect; he chuckled, though he wasn’t sure if admitting he’d recently grown partial to a particular shade of green would help anything. “Actually, that one would be easier, since I’m not exactly sure of my birth date.”

“You’re not? How?”

He shrugged and closed the bag. “We never really celebrated when I was young, and any birth certificate I may have had is long gone. Liam remembered that it was shortly after Yuletime and there was snow on the ground, so as far as keeping track of my age, I just mark it as the first of the year.”

“That...was not something I expected us to have in common.”

“I thought you said you had your birth certificate?”

“I do, but the date is only an estimate. A close one, but I have no idea if it’s correct or not.”

“Well, what does it say, then?”

“October 23.” Still a couple months away, but one she’d likely spend incarcerated.

“Happy early birthday, then,” he said, since he probably wouldn’t get another chance. 

“Thanks,” she said simply, and then hopped back up on the saddle. He followed her and she continued, “So what is your favorite color?”

“Blue,” he not-quite-lied as he kicked Roger into motion. “Like the sea.”

She hummed in agreement. “Mine’s red, like the sunset, or the leaves in the autumn.”

“An excellent choice.”

They continued to make similar smalltalk for the duration of the afternoon. Nothing terribly personal, nor deep—other favorites, childhood memories—but were it not for the consistent press of cold steel against his wrist, it would have felt like two (somewhat more than) friends out for a ride. Though Killian knew better than to let down his guard like that, he also knew he had the upper hand, as it were. 

If anything, it made the time pass quicker. There were no other cities on their path until they reached Longbourn, nor anything more populated than the occasional homestead or caravan. In other words—a horrifically boring ride, save for the sounds of birdsong and whatever sea shanties he normally sang to himself. 

There wasn’t another enchanted campsite like they’d stayed at the night before, but he still knew of one well enough off the beaten path to avoid notice; he actually had to get down and guide Roger there on foot. They reached it just before sunset and went about getting settled for the night. Even though they were still awkwardly attached at the wrist, they seemed to be enough in sync now to work together through any awkwardness. (Emphasis on the latter when it came to relieving themselves.)

Though this spot didn’t have a protection charm, it was equipped with an enchanted ember that constantly burned, making it easy to build a fire. They warmed their sandwiches (noting that there were only enough left for breakfast) and settled casually on a fireside log to eat and continue chatting—and discerning truth from fiction in what they’d already discussed in the past. (Other than her name, just about everything had been accurate—but perhaps she was better about keeping things vague than he was.)

“I’m guessing a crocodile didn’t actually eat your hand, then,” she asked when she was done eating. “Although I suppose that’s not incredibly far outside the realm of possibility.”

He chuckled lightly. “No, it wasn’t; though the man did look an awful lot like one.”

“A man ate it?”

“No, no...actually, I don’t know what he did with it. But his sword was much sharper than his teeth.”

Emma winced. “Ouch.”

“Aye, it had quite the bite.”

She narrowed her eyes at him but laughed. “Yeah, you’re definitely a dad with jokes like that.”

He gave another terrible wink.

“Just what did you do to piss this guy off?” she continued casually.

“I took his wife,” he answered, just as nonchalantly.

She nearly choked on her last bite of sandwich. “You what?” she gasped.

“All the things you’ve stolen, yet you balk at that?” he teased.

He could see her start to protest, but rethink her argument before she spoke.

He forged on. “It wasn’t so much theft as...we simply fell in love. I was still reeling from the loss of my brother; she was stuck in a loveless marriage. We met in a pub and it blossomed from there.” He stared into the fire, remembering. “We found ourselves at our lowest points, and looking back, I don’t know that we entirely lifted each other up, but we definitely helped each other. Until her husband found out, of course.”

“He took your hand?” Emma was incredulous.

“And then some.” He swallowed. “He killed her.”

Emma’s breath hitched. “So she really did die,” she added quietly.

He couldn’t fault her for wondering—he had a handful of similar questions about their conversations from their time in Storybrooke. But that didn’t stop the stutter his heart gave at the memory. “Aye,” he eventually answered. “Slide my sleeve up,” he directed, offering his right wrist to indicate which one.

She did carefully, and he tried not to focus on the gentleness of her fingers as she revealed the tattoo on his forearm. A jagged-looking dagger struck through a heart, and ribbon over the top bore the name Milah.

He jumped when her finger began to trace it, but again, she was almost reverent in her caress and study of the image. Somehow for the first time, he noticed her own ink—a flower on the underside of her left wrist. He was about to ask about hers, but then she surprised him with her next question.

“Is that the Dark One’s dagger?”

“You know it?” Though the legend of the man who was once referred to as the Dark One was known around the realm, few knew many details about the infamous criminal—unless they had close calls with the demon and his weapon of choice, such as Killian had. (Several times.)

Emma nodded. “Neal...he’s his son.”

“Neal?” Oh no.

“My ex, I guess. The one who framed me.”

“Bloody hell.” Of all the similarities they’d thus discovered in their lives, this connection was not one he anticipated. “Milah was Neal’s mum.”

“Shit.”

A heavy silence descended on them for what felt like an interminable amount of time. If Killian’s emotions had been a tangle before then, they were truly a convoluted mess now. “What are the odds?” he finally commented, but his tone was humorless.

“Shit,” she cursed again, then stood and began to pace, unceremoniously taking his wrist with her. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” He jumped up to join her, but bit back the “love” that normally would have ended that sentence.

She turned to face him and looked up, horrorstruck. “He killed the wrong guy,” she whispered.

“Who...what?” he stammered.

“Neal. He thought he was going after the man who took his mom and ruined his family. But...it wasn’t him.” She buried her face in her hands and was visibly taking deep breaths.

This was too genuine a reaction for her to fake. He moved closer and began to rub a hand down her arm in what he hoped was a calming motion. But he was still slightly lost. “I need you to go back a bit; can you tell me what happened before that? Why were you with Neal and why did he go after Graham?”

She dropped her arms and huffed. “You want the long story or the short one?”

“I don’t have any other plans.”

“Okay, but you should probably sit back down; it might take a while.”

He obliged, and she returned to her seat next to him. And began her tale:

They’d met rather inauspiciously—she stole the wagon he was sleeping in…which he’d already stolen. But she fell hard and fast, and they began thieving and running across the kingdom, starting small but eventually getting more daring. They continued to gain notoriety and skill—“And, honestly, we kind of felt untouchable. No one could catch us.”

“Hard to catch them when you’re looking for a female instead of a feline.”

She laughed a bit and looked down at her shackled wrists, brushing her tattoo with her opposite thumb. “I actually had that skill before I met him. When Ruby first started her transformation, she got lonely; so we paid a visit to the witch in town and she did this,” she explained, nodding at the ink. “It’s what lets me transform.”

“That’s awfully clever,” he had to admit.

“Neal thought so, too. It definitely got us out of some close calls. And everything was going great, right up until the day he came home, shouting that he’d finally found him.”

Killian’s bounty hunter instincts wanted to ask just where “home” was, but he held them back. “Found who?”

“The pirate who stole his mother away,” she said wryly, glancing up through her lashes. Heat grew under Killian’s cheeks. “He’d rant about it occasionally—list all the things he’d do to the man who broke his family apart if he ever found him. I’d usually just nod and laugh until the day he claimed he’d found him. Then…gods, I was right to be scared.”

Killian had known Milah had a child when she ran away with him—the lad would have been in his early teens when she left, if that—and it pained her to leave him behind, but at the very least, she trusted her husband to raise him right. That was before the man had gotten involved in darker, less-savory pursuits; perhaps it was no surprise the boy had grown up on such a similarly less-than-ideal path, with half-truths told to him about his mother’s actual fate. Still—it was disheartening to learn his own actions had potentially put into play a subsequently damaging series of events that, in a way, led them here. 

He couldn’t dwell on that now, though; there would be time enough for brooding later. “What did he do?”

Her eyes were glued to the ground as she explained. “He planned a sting, more or less; we were genuinely after some stuff—some jewels belonging to one of the rich townsfolk—but Neal wanted to do it clumsily, so the sheriff—the man he thought it was—would show up.” 

Graham had been the sheriff in a village outside Longbourn for quite some time; he and Killian had worked together many a time, and he was in fact the one who connected him with Nemo (after yet another drunk and disorderly arrest), setting him on a path out of his own darkness. He was one of the best men Killian had known—dedicated to keeping his town safe and looking out for his loved ones. 

Suffice to say, he wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of learning the details of his friend’s death. But he knew he needed to. 

“And it worked,” he added, knowingly.

“Yeah. Probably too well. Should have expected the sheriff wouldn’t take long to notice a break-in at the mayor’s house. And it’s not like we were subtle—we weren’t exactly quiet, and we lit just about every lantern we could find.” It was easy for Killian to see where this was going. “So he bursts in, sword aloft, and Neal didn’t waste any time leveling his pistol at him. I was too focused on clearing out the safe to really pay attention to what they were saying—until the gun went off.”

Killian’s breath hitched at that, making her look up at him and grab his hand.

“I swear, I didn’t know he was going to murder him,” she effused. “I knew Neal was angry; he blamed this guy for his mom leaving and his dad becoming…what he did; he was even upset that he arrested his dad. Gods—and he was so wrong,” she added, running a hand down her face in disbelief.

“Well—not entirely; Graham did help arrest the Dark One, too.” He chuckled sadly. “Probably why he got confused.”

“Oh, right,” she realized, glancing at his prosthesis; it was no secret that Captain Hook had led the charge in taking down the Dark One. “I know what we were doing wasn’t right, but what his dad did was worse—all those people he killed? He deserved to be captured. And that’s what gets me: we had promised we weren’t going to do anything that bad. Even if we were breaking the law, we weren’t really hurting anyone. And then Neal shot your friend—right in the chest. It wasn’t even in defense; the guy hadn’t moved. I stopped what I was doing and ran over to him, trying to staunch the bleeding, but there was nothing I could do.” 

Her voice caught at the end of her statement, and he could see tears—genuine ones—brimming at her eyes. He found himself having to look away—though whether it was to conceal his own reaction to Graham’s demise, or his response to hers, he wasn’t sure. “And then?” he asked, then winced; his voice betrayed any emotion he was trying to hide. 

She sighed. “Like I said, I couldn’t do anything to help. He went too fast. I yelled at Neal, asking why he did that—why he went that far. He tried to say I wouldn’t understand, since I never had parents; I told him that didn’t make it right and I wasn’t afraid to turn him in; there was no going back or escaping from that. Then he turned the gun on me, spewing all kinds of bile—how I was just a lost little orphan who’d never understand what family meant, how he knew he could take advantage of me because of it—how he never loved me.” She took a deep breath before finishing. “By then, the gun was practically in my face, so I transformed and made for the nearest window. He tried to shoot at me, but missed; it was enough to startle me, though, and I knocked an oil lamp into the window curtains. I got out quick and just ran, as fast and far as I could. And then I saw the wanted posters a few days later. I wasn’t all that shocked he tried to pin it on me, but you know what hurt worse?”

“What?”

“He couldn’t even get my eye color right,” she almost whispered. “At least it proved he hadn’t lied about never loving me; he hadn’t even taken the time to notice that. And it made it that much easier to just dye my hair and go on the lam. Which was going great, until you showed up.”

“My apologies,” he offered, only half meaning it.

“You’re just doing your job; I can’t fault you there,” she waved off. “And I certainly haven’t stayed on the right side of the law. I just didn’t do all of that.”

“No,” he replied. “I don’t think you did.”

“You believe me?” She seemed surprised. 

He didn’t blame her; he was slightly surprised himself. But he told her as he began to fish around in his pockets, “Aye; I do. I’ve heard many, many sob stories over the years and heard many tall tales.” He found what he was looking for and pulled it out. “Yours was one of the few that were genuine.” Then he reached for her wrist and unlocked both sets of shackles. 

Emma’s mouth hung open in shock, even as she flexed and rotated the likely stiffness from her wrists. “Really?”

“Yes; though I hope you don’t mind if I keep the other one there,” he confirmed, nodding at the magic-blocking cuff. “You are still technically in custody.”

“No, I get that,” she said, nodding. “I…wow. Thank you. Not many people believe me anymore.” He was about to comment on that fact when she went on. “I know, I know—hazard of my job. Both of ours, I guess. I just…I appreciate it.”

“Don’t make me regret this.” It was as much a warning as a confession. 

“I won’t,” she promised. And he believed her. 

Fatigue quickly got the best of them, so they turned in, calmly sharing the blanket this time though still back-to-back. 

As he drifted off, his thoughts lingered on their conversation. Fate sure had a sense of humor, he decided, to intertwine their lives so much. He wasn’t exactly complaining, though. 

But tonight’s revelations brought about another problem: if Emma was truly innocent of murder, how did they clear her name of that charge—and how long would it take him to track down the actual culprit? 

(He chose to ignore the hopeless romantic side of him that was far too hopeful for a renewed chance at a happy ending for them. 

He also consciously ignored the nagging voice in the back of his mind that still questioned her.)

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

thanks for reading! tagging some (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609​​ @xpumpkindumplingx​​ @shipsxahoy​​ @shireness-says​​ @ohmightydevviepuu​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​​ @thisonesatellite​​ @winterbythesea​​  @mryddinwilt​​ @cocohook38​​ @annytecture​​  @wingedlioness​​ @word-bug​​  @distant-rose​​ @wellhellotragic​​ @welllpthisishappening​​ @let-it-raines​​ @pirateherokillian​​ @its-imperator-furiosa​​ @fergus80​​ @killianmesmalls​​ @thejollyroger-writer​​ @ineffablecolors​​ @laschatzi​​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​​ @nfbagelperson​​ @stubblesandwich​​ @phiralovesloki​​ @athenascarlet​​ @kmomof4​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​ @snowbellewells​​ @idristardis​​ @scientificapricot​​ @searchingwardrobes​​ @donteattheappleshook​​ @jrob64​​ @the-darkdragonfly​​ @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop​​ @klynn-stormz​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @deckerstarblanche​

[eastwesthomeisbest]

This Could Be Heaven or Hell...

I've been looking for an angel,

To come save me from this hell

To come save me from myself...

I've been looking for an angel,

To kill the aching in my heart

Don't leave me lost here in the dark...

**************************************

Captain Swan Angel and Demon AU for @cssns

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @lifeinahole27 @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke @hollydaisy23 @alexa-fangirl-forever

[cssns]

We have a new chapter of The Wildest Place You Run from cssns21 by @myfearless-love !!!! And she’s revised the former chapters to make for a more coherent and enjoyable reading experience!! So be sure to give her ALL the love!!!

Hello everyone!

After what feels like an eternity, I am thrilled to announce that a new chapter has finally arrived! 🎉 It's been quite a journey, and I appreciate your patience and continued support throughout this hiatus.

I must confess that during this time, I've been hard at work behind the scenes. Not only have I been crafting new chapters, but I've also taken the opportunity to revisit and revamp previous chapters. My goal was to polish the storyline, enhance character development, and ensure a more cohesive reading experience for you all.

I understand that revisiting old chapters may seem daunting, but I promise that these revisions are aimed at elevating the story to new heights. Whether you're a returning reader or discovering this fic for the first time, I hope you'll find these changes enriching and enjoyable.

As always, your feedback is invaluable to me. Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts, reactions, and suggestions in the comments. Your input helps shape the narrative and contributes to its ongoing evolution.

Buy me a coffee here if you feel like :)  

Summary:

Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, and Elves. For centuries, they kept their existence a secret, but the constant rebellions against the strict laws of the Guild had led to a terrible tragedy. In an open clash, it became apparent to humans just what kind of monsters lived among them. Emma Swan loses the love of her life in the first battle of the war. A few months later, while still trying to process what happened, a mysterious and terrifying figure worms his way into her life. But the man is hiding far more terrible secrets than he reveals to her, pulling them both into a horrible situation…

Read on: AO3

Words: ~5.5k

Previous parts:

Ch 1 II Ch 2 II Ch 3 II Ch 4 II Ch 5 II Ch 6 II Ch 7 II Ch 8 II Ch 9 II Ch 10 II Ch 11 II Ch 12 II Ch. 13

Preview:

[caught-in-the-filter]

My Bad, Bad Devil, You Put the Angel in You

—an angel!Killian/demon!Emma AU PWP for CSSNS21

A/N: A huge shoutout and thank you to ultraluckycatnd for beta-ing this for me, and to the mods of @cssns for giving us another year of this event!

Heads up that this has some sacrilegious uses of Biblical references, and I totally understand and respect if that's a big nope for anyone for any reason. Most of my life, it would've been a nope for me too. I mean no attack or mockery or other ill intent toward Christianity/religion or anyone who practices any form of it.

I grew up in church but I've been questioning a lot for a long time now, and this sort of became my own little personal rebellion. (I guess writing smut in general has been, but this one is on another level.) I kind of have a love/hate relationship with this fic; it was fun when I started it, but then I got frustrated and stuck, and now I'm not sure how I feel about it anymore. And maybe I'll regret it in the future if I ever see the light again or something, but for now, I've resigned to the fact that if I'm gonna go to hell (if I even believe there is one anymore), then I might as well have a little fun with it while I can.

So if this is your thing, I hope you enjoy. If not, dl,dr, and no hard feelings.

Also, I know the title is a little long, but I couldn't resist the Doctor Who reference.

Rated: E; Words: 2904; AO3

——

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Emma purred, closing the distance between herself and the angel standing before her. With a flick of her wrist, she cast him back against the window and commanded the curtains to cross in front of him, spinning him so that he faced the glass before wrapping themselves around his wings and arms to restrain him.

“A daughter of the damned, getting in over her head?” Killian quipped, testing the hold of the thick cloth keeping him in place without fighting it.

“Mmm,” Emma hummed. Taking advantage of the fact that he hadn’t worn a shirt in favor of opening his wings, she reached around his waist and bent her arms upward so she could slowly rake her nails down his exposed chest. “You’re the one tied up, but I’m in over my head?” She twirled a few of his hairs around her finger and tugged, making him flinch.

“You make the mistake of thinking I’m not exactly where I want to be, love.” Killian glanced back at her with a devious smirk. “That is why you’re in over your head.”

“Oh, I know,” Emma smiled. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she lowered her hands and began to unlace his trousers. “I know you want to fall, don’t you?” She freed his hardening cock from its leather confines and slowly ran her hand back and forth along the length of him. “You want to rise and fall and lose yourself in the worst way.”

“With you?” Killian panted, already breathless under her sinfully skilled touch. “Hell yes.”

“Then you’re going to let them watch you fall from grace.” Emma gestured at the window in front of them, guiding Killian’s eyes to gaze out at the possibility of unwitting passersby spotting their activities, before taking him in hand once more. “You’re going to let them see you give all of yourself to a demon.” The guttural groan he made only spurred her on as she continued to pump him. “Unless you can’t handle it.”

Killian’s head fell back when Emma interrupted her stroking to grip his balls with a taunting squeeze, and he muttered under his breath, “God, forgive me,” as his eyes fluttered closed. Bucking his hips, he tried to coax her to go faster, “Yes, Emma, please yes,” but she smiled as she removed her hand and relished the whine that left his lips.

“An angel eager to sin.” She slipped her hands beneath the back of his trousers, kneading his ass for a moment before stripping off the leather, trailing kisses down his spine as she sank to the floor with the material. “Step.” With a tap to the backs of his knees, she removed the trousers completely and tossed them aside.

Emma ducked between Killian’s legs and twisted her body in one fluid motion so that she sat with her back to the window, greeted by his cock pointing right at her face.

“I want to taste you,” she said and lifted his cock so she could lick a slow stripe from base to head, swiping her tongue over the sensitive tip. Looking up at him from beneath her lashes, she cupped his ass and pulled him toward her as she took him into her mouth until he hit the back of her throat. The staccato sounds that left his lips convinced her to hold him there as long as she could, flexing her tongue along the length of him, until she had to lean back to take a breath.

“Delicious,” Emma sighed and took him in again, and again, this time guiding him back and forth, in and out, her tongue darting out to tease his balls with each plunge.

Killian panted her name amidst a slew of encouragements, lost in the way she licked and sucked and consumed him. Her grip on his ass tightened, and he bit back a moan when her finger made its way to the center and circled its find before dipping just barely inside.

“Ooh, sounds like you like that,” she parted from him long enough to tease, continuing her carefully intrigued prodding as she asked, “shall we sodomize an Angel of God?”

“It wouldn’t—” he gritted his teeth as she gave his cock a particularly strong suck, straining against the curtains holding him at her mercy, or lack thereof, “—wouldn’t be the first time, love.”

“Oh?” Emma raised an eyebrow at him, pausing for a moment before bringing him into her mouth once more, staring up into his eyes as he watched her intently.

“Aye. Though I much prefer to give than to receive.”

Of course you would, Emma thought, the pun of angelic nature not lost on her. She hummed her assent around him and sent a ripple of pleasure coursing through his body. 

It was too much and not enough. As Emma relentlessly devoured him, Killian fought against the material holding him back. With one forceful downward motion, he tore the curtains in half and freed himself as he sought his glorious ascension.

His fingers laced into her hair, and for once, he allowed himself to take. His frantic thrusts were met with surprised and hungry moans, the vibrations of which sent him soaring over the edge.

“Ohh fuck. Fuck,” he cried as he spilled himself down her throat. He felt it when she swallowed as he held her still and his cock continued to pulse.

“Such a dirty mouth for such a pure being,” Emma remarked as she caught her breath when he at last let her go. She got to her feet and stood facing him, using her tongue to trace the lines of the cross tattoo on his chest as she rose, and she yelped when he pulled her flush against him, his arms tight around her.

“Oh, it can be much, much dirtier,” he growled, making her gasp as he gave a harsh tug to her hair and attacked the exposed skin of her neck with sloppy kisses and less than gentle nips and searing hot breath. She arched up into him, and it was his turn to pin her against the glass. His hand and hook frantically tore at her blouse while his mouth continued its expert assault as it made its way to hers and along her jaw until he caught her earlobe between his teeth. “Would you like that, demon?” he asked, slipping his hand beneath her waistband and trailing his lips down to the swell of her breasts. “Would you like my mouth on you where you’re warm and wet and wanting for me? Teasing you as you’ve done me, making you long for my cock as much as I long for the feel of you around me?”

Emma suddenly couldn’t find the words, too caught up in the thrill of hearing him, an angel, her angel, talk like that. Hoping to get the point across, she threaded her fingers through the haphazard locks on his head and shoved him to his knees.

“Shall I take that as a yes?” he grinned, holding her gaze as he lifted her incredibly short skirt and ran his thumb along the already soaked strip of lace she considered panties before pulling it down to her knees.

Emma leaned forward to allow the remnants of her blouse to fall to the floor before reaching for the support of the window once more as he canted her hips toward himself with the curve of his hook pressed to the small of her back.

Killian’s wing curled forward to assist with holding up the material of her skirt, the feathers tickling the top of her thigh, so he could focus his efforts on her aching core. Too eager to taste her, he wasted no time, choosing instead to start right with his mouth at her clit. She jumped at the unexpected jolt of pleasure, and he steadied her with his hand splayed against her inner thigh, inching his fingers toward her center.

“How can you be from Hell when you taste so divine, Emma?” he praised. “I could spend eternity quenching my deepest thirst between your legs.”

“Then shut up and quench it,” Emma barked. She didn’t really mean it, not completely. She loved his silver tongue, especially when he used it to talk dirty, but right now she craved him putting it to a different use.

“Ask and ye shall receive.” As he gave one more suck on her clit, Killian plunged two fingers inside her, soon increasing it to three as he stretched her and coaxed out more of her arousal onto his expertly explorative tongue.

“God, you’re so fucking good at that,” Emma sighed, tugging his hair as she rode his tongue and fingers, relishing the warm vibrations his pained groans and hungry moans ghosted over her sensitive skin.

“Oh no, love,” Killian said without relenting, looking up at her as he continued working her between words. “Don’t blaspheme. I’m not Him. I worship at your altar, Emma, and there’s no better place to be on my knees.”

“I like your Word better, anyway.” Emma’s head tipped back as her hips began to buck, but her moment of near bliss quickly turned into one of frustration. “No,” she gasped, shocked and almost offended as he pulled away with a smirk and stood to his feet, leaving her clenching on nothing and far from sated. “Come on, Killian, please! I thought you were all about giving! And how is this worship?”

“I meant what I said, love. I adore you, I do. But I am an angel, after all.” Killian chuckled. “We tend to enjoy when someone is brought to the edge before they’re granted their salvation. I need you begging for it.”

“Fucking tease,” Emma huffed, turning away from him with her arms crossed in front of her.

“Mmm,” Killian mused, “perhaps you are ready to receive more.” He nudged her legs apart with his own, a soft blow with the side of his foot kicking one out to the side, and Emma scrambled to reach her arms out in front of her for balance, her hands slipping on the window as her legs spread. Snaking his arms around her, he set his chin on her shoulder as he held her in his embrace and mused, “What do you think, love? Shall we bare you to them as I take you and show them what they can’t have, or should we keep this sinful skirt on and show them how eager you are to be ravished by an angel?”

“On, off, I don’t care which you’re into, just fuck me!”

“A bit of both then.” Killian pressed the side of his hook to her stomach and pulled her to him, holding her so that her back pressed against his chest. Lifting the front of her skirt, he handed her the bottom hem. “Hold this up for me, love.”

With a smirk, she took it between her teeth, stretching the waistband higher and pulling the material taut between her breasts as she leaned her head back onto his shoulder and winked at him.

“There’s a good girl.” He smiled and raised the bit between them with the tip of his hook, taking himself in hand. “You pretend you like to rebel, but you behave so well for me. Now, tell me what you want.”

“I said, I want you to fuck me,” Emma answered, slightly muffled by her skirt, frustratedly trying to swivel her hips in the hopes of getting him inside her.

He draped her skirt over his hand and wrapped his hooked arm around her once more to still her. Her annoyance encouraged him to tease her all the more, and he brushed the tip of his cock between her folds agonizingly slowly as he said, “I need you to be more specific, love. What do you want?”

“Fuck, Killian, I want your cock inside me.” Emma almost dropped her skirt when he filled her in one smooth slide, her jaw instinctively ready to fall open, but she caught herself and clenched it instead, biting down hard on the material with a groan at the sudden stretch.

“Very good.” The tip of his hook dimpled her flesh, dangerously close to piercing her, as he held her against himself and slammed into her from behind. His fingers laced themselves between hers and he caressed up the side of her body as he brought her hand to rest on the back of his neck. Emma raised her other hand in kind, and Killian moved his to her breast, kneading and squeezing it as he lost himself in the feel of her.

“Fuck, you feel fucking amazing around me, Emma. Not even heaven compares to the feel of you.” Killian licked a stripe along Emma’s collarbone and clamped his mouth over the spot, digging his teeth into her flesh. She moaned at the thought of the mark she’d wear tomorrow.

Bringing his arm back, Killian pressed it across Emma’s shoulder blades, pinning her chest to the glass in front of them with an arch in her back that jutted her ass out at him, and this time Emma did drop her skirt as her mouth opened on a loud moan at the forceful change of angles. Killian grunted and tucked his hook beneath the waistband, ripping it apart with the sharp tip and watching it fall as he pounded into her.

“I told you to hold that,” he growled against the shell of her ear. “Perhaps you are a naughty little minx after all.” Killian swatted Emma’s ass with an open palm before grabbing the reddening flesh and massaging it, in theory to soothe the sting but so roughly that she thought he might leave a bruise if he continued, one she’d be more than willing to bear as a reminder of their time for several days to come.

“Forgive me?” she teased in a mocking tone as she met his thrusts with each backward roll of her hips, almost inclined to make prayer hands at him if moving them wouldn’t risk her falling.

“Not exactly a sincere repentance, is it, love?” Killian struck her ass once more before grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging her head backward. “But it is rather tempting to grant you reprieve nonetheless.”

“Ah, so why don’t you give into that temptation, angel?” Emma gritted.

“Don’t try to persuade. Ask me for it.”

“Please, Killian, I’m so close.” Emma couldn’t take it anymore. “Make me come, angel. Please!” Emma sighed through a string of curses as Killian moved the curve of his hook to her clit, pressing the brace against her flesh just above it as he rubbed quick circles over the swollen nub.

“What say you, demon?” he asked, breathless himself as he brought them both to the brink. “Shall we chance our own breed of Nephilim?”

“Yes please,” she panted desperately. “I’ve already tasted you. I want to feel you. I want to feel you come inside me.”

“I’ll give you what you want, demon, but I want to hear you scream my name when I do, not God’s.” Killian’s mouth travelled from Emma’s neck to her shoulder and back as he pistoned his hips with abandon. His teeth scraped her flesh before he moaned against her cheek as he found his release, “Emma, fuck yes, Emma,” filling her with it and pushing it deeper as it dripped down the length of his cock.

With his brutal thrusts and relentless teasing, Emma granted his request soon after, crying out, “Killian!” at the top of her lungs as her knees buckled beneath her.

He practically lifted her off the ground when he caught her with his arm wrapped around her middle, holding her tightly as he drew every last drop of ecstasy from within her before he slipped from her core and spun her into a lightheaded kiss, caging her against the window with his arms once more.

“Well, that was fucking hot.” Emma smiled against his lips as she pulled one into her mouth to bite it playfully, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. “Who knew you had it in you, angel?” One hand anchored in his hair as the other clutched at his ass, and she pulled him closer to her so she could rut against his leg, letting their releases spill down her thigh onto his and making him groan.

“It was the other way around, love,” he joked with a certainly devilish smirk, “but I concur, it was fucking hot.” Tucking his arms beneath her legs, Killian hoisted Emma into them and carried her to the bed, tossing her not so gently onto the mattress.

Emma giggled as she taunted him with one curled finger, beckoning him to her as she spread her legs wide, an invitation he happily accepted as he knelt between them and crawled above her body with a guttural growl.

“You might just convince me of the divine benefits of your side,” Emma purred, running her hands down his sides to grip his waist, “but I think I need to witness a bit more firsthand to make sure I believe, if you’ve got another miracle in you.”

“Angels are eternal, darling,” he said. “I’ll never leave you if that’s what it takes to really fill you with the spirit.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

——

A/N: "Glorious ascension" to describe an orgasm? Yeah, I'm going to hell.

——

Tag list ❤️: @batana54 @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @qualitycoffeethings @stahlop @teamhook @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @wefoundloveunderthelight @xsajx @zaharadessert

[kmomof4]

Artist Spotlight

As part of the campaign to attract more artists for this years CSSNS, I wanted to make a post highlighting some of my favorite artists from years past.

@spartanguard​ was my artist for my vampire Killian fic, Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates and I will NEVER be over the magnificence of each piece!!! They made the fic come to life in a way I would never have imagined!!! If you haven’t read the fic, I hope you do and I’d love to know what you think. But even if you don’t, please look at Kaitlyn’s artwork under the cut and go give her lots of love!!!

[cssns]

And now it's time for the CSSNS21 Roundups!!!! The mods separated out the round ups by month, so the June roundup is above, with the links to July and August below. Enjoy this look back and be sure to give lots of love to all the participants!!!

July roundup

August roundup

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer: June Round-Up

Now that we’ve reached the end of our event, it’s time for ROUND UPS, starting with… 

JUNE 2021

“The Good Fight”

We kicked off the event with @justanother-unluckysoul ‘s “The Good Fight” with art by @wefoundloveunderthelight !

Summary: Emma Nolan has hunted a lot of creatures in her life and there are very few things out there that she hasn’t killed at this point. But there’s one thing that isn’t real – angels. At least, that’s what she thought until the day she met Killian, angel of the lord.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

“The Belle Dame Emma”

Next came @snowbellewells “The Belle Dame Emma,” with art by @caught-in-the-filter

Summary: Legend has it that the fae woman in the meadow will ensnare any who dare enter her domain, but the knight who chances a meeting can tell there is more to the story than superstition and gossip has allowed. The path to the truth and redemption may be fraught with dangers - to the both of them - but is it not the sworn duty of a true knight to help any who may be in need?

Start Reading it here! 

“Unmasking the Truth”

@stahlop ‘s “Unmasking the Truth” was a lovely superhero one-shot with art by @kmomof4

Read it here!

“The Descent”

Next came a vampire/werewolf AU by saviorrswan, “The Descent!” Find it on AO3 here! 

Summary: Everything had changed for Emma Swan so incredibly, mind-numbingly fast. Being a werewolf was simple, as simple as being supernatural could be, but now she was more than that. A vampire. A hybrid. A paradox, abomination, and mess all wrapped up in a nice little bow. Killian Jones, a decently old pirate turned vampire, has been asked to tutor a young vampire-werewolf hybrid on how to be a studious, law-abiding vampire.

He didn’t expect her to warm his still-beating heart and move his wretched soul.

She didnt expect him to break down her walls and help her learn to love herself again.

Original art by @carpedzem

Then we had a beautiful sketch by @carpedzem

“Ivory Runs Red”

Then we were all blown away by @searchingwardrobes ‘s ghost story “Ivory Runs Red”! (completed!)

Summary:  When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Find it here!

“Most Wanted”

@spartanguard brought us to a new world that brings together the Enchanted Forest and the wild west with “Most Wanted”! (Complete!)

Summary: Killian Jones has been tracking Emma Swan, notorious cat burglar, across the realm as she’s wanted for murder. The sooner he finds her, the faster he gets back to his daughter. But meeting an enchanting lass in a small village—along with Miss Swan’s feline familiar (perhaps too familiar)—definitely affects his plans; this case might not be as open-and-shut as he’d like.

Read it here!

Original art by @wefoundloveunderthelight

To wrap up the first month, we had part one of some incredible art by @wefoundloveunderthelight – check it out! 

Next week we’ll have the July round-up! 

[veryverynotgoodwrites]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV), A Discovery of Witches (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan/Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Maleficent Characters: Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Emma Swan, Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Maleficent (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Knave of Hearts | Will Scarlet, Wicked Witch of the West | Zelena, Pinocchio | August Booth, Liam Jones (Once Upon a Time), Arthur (Once Upon a Time), Henry Mills (Once Upon a Time), The Apprentice (Once Upon a Time), Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Robin Hood (Once Upon a Time), Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Alice Jones | Tilly, Belle (Once Upon a Time) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions Summary:

“Once the world was full of wonders, but it belongs to humans now. We creatures have all but disappeared. Daemons, vampires, and witches - all hiding in plain sight, ill at ease even with each other. But, as my father used to say, in every ending...there is a new beginning.”

A Captain Swan AU.

*I do not own any of these characters from OUAT, nor any part of A Discovery of Witches. Some dialogue and events are taken from both OUAT and ADOW to create this story, and are products of their original writers. This is just a fun CS au for your reading pleasure.

-

Long awaited, even longer procrastinated -

I present my addition to the 2021 Captain Swan Supernatural Summer event: Blood & Magic, a CS/ADOW AU! @cssns

The entire time I read A Discovery of Witches, I absolutely adored the story and the relationship, but it wasn't until I saw the show that it clicked - it was perfectly suited to be a Captain Swan story!

I've been planning and working for months to get this out to you guys, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as you'd hoped!

Huge thank you to my beta, @ultraluckycatnd, for being patient and just generally being awesome while I was brainstorming at random times of the day/night! You're the best.

Another huge thank you to my artist, @mariakov81!!! I've enjoyed getting to know you, and I'm so pleased with what you've created for this story so far! Thank you so much! It’s stunning, and I can’t wait to see what’s coming in the future!

Please let me know if you would like to be added to my tags list!

@teamhook @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @ultraluckycatnd @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells​ @xarandomdreamx​ @klynn-stormz​

[snowbellewells]

CS Fic Rec Monday: “from the edge of the deep green sea” by: @ohmightydevviepuu

Oh my goodness, folks!! This story was originally written for @cssns​ last summer, but I just got to read it for myself this weekend -- and it is STUNNING!! It just took my breath away, SERIOUSLY. <3 If you like post Neverland divergent fics, this one is for you. If you live for some good angst and pining, this fic is for you. Really if you just like a well told tale that grabs your attention, keeps you guessing, and works your every heartstring, then this is a story you don’t want to miss.  

It takes up around where 3x10 and 3x11 could have gone - if Pan had succeeded in making Storybrooke his “new Neverland”.  That’s about the best, least spoiler-y way I can think of to introduce it.  It would see that Emma is lost to them, and that everyone else is about to follow one by one, but of course our Captain - and the Truest Believer ;) - don’t give up that easily....

Just read it for yourselves - I doubt you’ll be disappointed! 

“from the edge of the deep green sea”  by: @ohmightydevviepuu​

[stahlop]

Unmasking the Truth

Here it is! My entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! I'm so excited to show you this! I got this idea for a superhero au back in March after my kids were watching Megamind one day. Obviously, I made it work for Captain Swan.

Thank you to @kmomof4​ for being my beta and my artist. Isn’t this art just amazing? Make sure you give Krystal kudos too.

Emma’s head is killing her and she has no idea why. She vaguely remembers going to the bar with Killian last night, but she doesn’t remember much after that. She usually never drinks enough to give herself a hangover headache like the one she’s sporting right now. What the hell did I drink? She reflexively goes to put her hand to her forehead but she can’t lift it. Well, that certainly gets her attention. 

Her eyes fly open and her head jerks up, sending a jolt of pain throughout her neck and shoulders adding to the pain in her head. She tugs on her hands a few times, determining that they are tied behind her. Her arms already ache so she thinks she’s been in this position for a while. The last thing she remembers was it being around midnight when she’d been at the bar with Killian, her best friend. She quickly takes in her surroundings while also trying to remember what the hell happened last night (god, she hopes Killian is alright). The place is pretty nondescript, with light streaming in from windows far above her head that have dust particles floating through the sunny streams, and several shelving units filled with various items that she can’t identify. She assumes she’s in a warehouse of some kind. The question is, why is she here?

There is no one around, no one waiting for her to wake up, which she finds odd. If you go to all the trouble to kidnap someone, there must be a reason, and usually they can’t wait for their hostage to wake up so they can monologue all about their plans (at least, that’s been her experience in the past). But since no one is around, Emma immediately gets to work twisting her hands to try and loosen the ropes that bind her. Using ropes and not zip ties really should have been her first indication as to who was holding her captive, but she’s so busy looking out for anyone else while trying to get her hands free that she really doesn’t take any time to think about what the ropes give away. And it’s also why, despite the fact that she was attempting to look around for her captor, she fails to hear anyone coming from behind her until his voice is practically in her ear.

“Ah, the princess awakens,” a cool, deep, British voice says from behind her. Emma’s hackles are immediately raised as she recognizes the voice of her arch nemesis.

“Hello, Captain,” she says in a menacing voice.

He saunters in front of her with one eyebrow raised over the top of his mask. She’s always had to give him credit for his villain wardrobe. He has a very authentic pirate costume, what with the black linen shirts that were barely buttoned up showing off his impressive thatch of chest hair, and the beautifully embroidered vests he favored, the leather pants, and of course, his piece de resistance, the leather duster that has to weigh at least 30 pounds if not more (but looks fantastic flowing behind him during their mid-air battles, not that she was looking). He wears a simple black mask over his eyes and a black scarf over the top of his head to hide his hair. He reminds Emma of a more swashbuckling Westley from The Princess Bride.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me?” he says, giving a little bow. Shit! Emma realizes too late that she, Emma Nolan, has never actually met The Captain.

“I’m not stupid,” she snaps, still trying to twist her hands, though more discreetly now that her captor has shown up. “I watch the news. And I work for the paper.” She gives him her best scowl of disapproval.

“Yes, darling,” he says, clapping his hands together in what makes a hollow sound that does not reverberate around the quiet warehouse like she expected it to. Probably due to the black leather gloves he always sports. “The famous Emma Nolan.”

“I’m not famous,” she says quickly, wondering what type of game he’s playing. 

“Emma Nolan,” he repeats. “28-years-old. Abandoned at birth. Went through a series of foster and group homes before finally getting adopted by Mary Margaret and David Nolan at the age of 12. Went to Boston University for a journalism degree, but currently works as a photographer for the Boston Globe, where she’s most ‘famously’ known for taking pictures of the elusive White Swan.” The Captain gives an evil smile right then, as if he’s caught her in the act of something. Emma immediately freezes up as if she too has been caught doing something she shouldn’t. After all, The Captain has no idea that Emma Nolan is the alter ego of the superhero, White Swan, his arch enemy.

He looks at her quizzically while tapping his fingers together in a classic villain pose, the fingers tapping under his chin as if deep in thought. His eyes keep darting about as though he’s looking for someone else. Maybe he thinks by kidnapping her White Swan will come and rescue her? While she does have magic (and the ability to walk on water, and fly, and morph into any outfit she wants) she can’t use it right now without giving herself away. She’s going to have to use her own brute strength to get herself out of this mess. She looks back up at The Captain and he’s still deep in thought, his fingers still tap, tap, tapping. Click, click, clicking.  

Clicking?

She hears the clicking before she registers what it is. In their battles it is always so noisy, it would be impossible to hear the almost insect-like sound she is now hearing. Emma finally realizes it is coming from his hand.

No!

Not from his hand!

It is his hand.

Fuck! It’s so obvious now that he has a mechanical hand in his glove. Put that together with the all too familiar blue eyes, scruffy beard, British accent, and what Emma is sure are dark locks underneath his head scarf, and it all adds up to “Killian?” she wonders aloud.

He tries to ignore her, but Emma can see that slight tension that courses through his body when she says his name.

“Killian!” she says, a little more forcefully now. She’s on the verge of tears because she desperately doesn’t want this to be true. Her kind, sweet, friend couldn’t be this crass, cold, calculating villain.

The minute The Captain turns to look at her, though, all hope of her being mistaken flies out the window as she recognizes the sullen expression she’s seen on his face a million times.

“Emma, I…” but then he suddenly stands up straight, and his expression hardens before The Captain is in full command. A cocky smirk spreads over his face and he slowly starts pulling the fingers off of the glove on his false hand until Emma clearly sees the metal gleaming.

“You always were a smart one, Emma. Too smart for your own good.” He throws the leather gloves to the ground and flexes the metal appendage, the clicking like nails on a chalkboard to Emma’s ears. “Though, not smart enough. Who would ever think that Killian Jones, writer for the Boston Globe, and Emma Nolan’s puppy dog, would also be that dashing rapscallion, The Captain?” He flashes another cocky grin at her.

“Scoundrel is more like it,” she huffs, still trying to take in the fact that her best friend and permanent resident of some of her more naughty dreams is also her arch enemy. “What do you want with me?” she asks sadly and with an edge of fear. Is it possible he’s figured out who she is?

“I want White Swan. I want to hurt her like she’s hurt me,” he says simply while biting his lip. Emma’s heart is beating frantically in her chest. He moves right into her space, his lips practically on hers. How many times has she imagined kissing those lips? “You are basically her exclusive photographer. I want you to tell me her secret identity so I can be done with her once and for all.” Emma’s heart drops in her chest, because this is the one thing she can’t give him. She can’t tell her arch enemy that he has, in fact, captured his prey, only as her secret identity. So she decides to play on her strengths, because even as Emma Nolan, she’s not only a smart cookie, but a tough one as well.

Emma gives The Captain a smile, as if she will tell him what he wants to hear, then she rears her head back and head butts him.

“OW!” He screams holding his nose which is now gushing blood. Emma’s pretty sure she broke it. “What the fuck was that for?” He sounds so much like her Killian at this moment and not like The Captain that she almost hesitates to continue on with her plan. His blue eyes look up at her, the spark she’s used to seeing in them has returned. He’s looking at her like he has no idea what she’s doing there, but she doesn’t have time for The Captain’s theatrics, because she’s almost got her hands free from the ropes.

“Emma?” he asks, his voice muffled through his hand. He’s looking around the room as if it’s the first time he’s seen it and hasn’t been holding her captive for however long they’ve been here. He looks down and notices what he’s wearing, again with a look of surprise. His eyes are comically wide behind his mask and he jerks his head back up, probably from the pain in his nose. “Love? What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” Emma asks incredulously. “What’s going on?” She asks again, her voice getting more hysterical. “Apparently you’re The fucking Captain and you’ve kidnapped me to get information on White Swan. That’s what’s going on!” Killian shakes his head again as if trying to clear water in his ears. He sweeps the scarf over his head revealing his dark hair sticking up in all directions, just the way she likes it.

No! She needs to focus on freeing herself and not lusting over Killian’s hair. This would be so much easier if she could use her magic.

Killian is staring at her, his eyes showing a sadness Emma’s only seen once before, when his brother, Liam died. Is that when he turned into a villain? Emma tries to think how long it’s been since The Captain has been on the scene while she continues to try and free her hands. She’s so close now. 

Liam died three years ago; a freak accident on board his ship where he’d been a Captain in the Navy. Killian had been his lieutenant, losing his hand in the same accident. Killian had vowed that someone would pay for the gross negligence he felt had happened. The Captain came onto the scene about six months later, now that she thinks about it.. At first he just seemed to go after government institutions. A pirate bows to no leader! had been The Captain’s motto. And Killian had almost seemed…. happier all of a sudden. Emma had chalked it up to acceptance of Liam’s death and the huge settlement he’d received for that and his hand, but could it have been because he’d taken up the mantle of The Captain?

How had she not seen his descent into madness? Every villain she’d come up against had an element of madness to them. Something that triggered them and then sent them spiraling into fanaticism. ‘The Hatter’ had his child taken away so he went after Child Services and foster homes ‘freeing’ the children while looking for his daughter. ‘The Evil Queen’ had felt that her fiance’s death was the direct result of someone revealing a secret, so she’d gone crazy setting fires to people’s homes that knew the gossiper while dressed in extremely gaudy clothes and a tiara. And what had White Swan done to The Captain?

He’d started out small; stealing files, exposing corrupt politicians. Nothing had ever been exposed about the ship accident though. Considering Killian Jones was a reporter for the same publication that Emma worked at, he would have had access to all the same information she did. And he’d definitely researched everything he could to see if that accident could have been avoided or if it truly was random. He’d never been able to prove anything, but he’d been convinced they were carrying something extremely hazardous that had directly caused the accident. But lately… well, lately, The Captain had been doing some villainous work that seemed out of character for him. She’d thwarted his plans to steal valuable works of art just the other day, and most recently, she’d even caught him trying to steal priceless artifacts from the Boston Museum. While his villain persona may have been a pirate, he’d never so blatantly acted like one. 

“What has White Swan done to you?” Emma asks, realizing that with the exception of stopping his schemes, she’s never personally gone after him. At least not to warrant this kind of behavior from him. They tend to have a ‘trade barbs back and forth while he (she) flirted obnoxiously kind of relationship (and wow, Emma’s only now realizing how blind she must have been to not see that The Captain and Killian are one in the same). He’s more of a small time nuisance in a pirate costume rather than a super villain.

The sadness in his eyes shifts into anger. The wide eyes that looked horrified to see her held captive, now slits that hide the beautiful blue color of his irises. His back straightens up and the swagger comes back. He removes his headscarf from his nose, the bleeding finally stopped. 

“Now, dearie, is that anyway to treat your best friend?” His demeanor is cold and menacing and not something Emma has experienced from him as Killian or The Captain. Killian is shy and sweet and doesn’t realize what a catch he is. The Captain is cocky and trades barbs with her as if they were going out of style. This… this is something entirely different, and Emma doesn’t know what to make of it. He has moved to kneel in front of her, but he’s far enough away that she can’t head butt him again. Emma knows when the adrenaline wears off she’s going to have a wicked headache.

“Maybe if you were acting like my best friend I would treat you better.” Admittedly, not her best comeback, but she is still reeling over the fact that her best friend and her arch enemy are one and the same. 

“Ah, yes. Emma Nolan has to have everything figured out, doesn’t she? Can’t let anyone past those walls, no matter how desperately they want in,” he practically sneers at her at this ‘revelation’ about her. Emma feels tears pricking her eyes. Killian would never talk to her this way. 

Never.

“Don’t act like this is something new, Killian.” He practically flinches when she says his name, like that’s not who he is at the moment and he doesn’t want to be reminded of that. But Emma doesn’t give a shit. She is tired, and her arms ache from being in this position, and her head is now starting to throb. 

“Did you drug me last night?” she asks, the realization of what must have happened at the bar finally dawning on her. “Did you suggest drinks last night so you could get me in this position?” She’s the one being cold and callous now, but she doesn’t care. Killian was her person. The one person in all the world she could trust not to hurt her. He was the person she dreamed about building a life with, even if she was too chicken shit to actually make a move. And, okay, he didn’t know about her super hero persona, but she thought she’d been protecting him. Turns out she was still protecting herself. 

A cold, maniacal grin spreads across his face. It makes him look positively evil, and a little crazy. “Oh she’s a smart one isn’t she?” Goosebumps creep down her arms the way he’s speaking to her. This whole night has been a bizarre chain of events. The fact that Killian suggested going out on a Friday was odd, because they usually went out drinking on Saturdays. Then they’d end up at one or the other’s apartments watching movies all day. He’d insisted on doing shots all night, which was another thing that was out of character for him. Emma loves shots, but Killian is a rum fan through and through. It also occurs to her that he was asking a lot of questions about her latest series of White Swan/The Captain photographs that she’d submitted. Not that that was completely unusual. She usually showed them to him to get his opinions on which ones were the best to submit, but he was extremely interested this time around about how she’d managed to get the pictures. How she knew where she’d be. Usually, he just made quips about how The Captain needed to get himself an exclusive photographer so maybe he could get a following as large as White Swan’s (something Emma is realizing was a big fucking clue since she sets up her phone to take the pictures, something she learned from watching fucking Spiderman).

But back to the question at hand.

“You never answered me. What has White Swan done to you that makes this so personal? How has she hurt you?” God, if she could only get this hand free. She’s so damn close.

“What concern is that of yours, dearie? I just need you to tell me who she really is, and then you can be on your merry way.” Emma’s skin prickles again. Something in the way he’s speaking to her keeps triggering it, but she hasn’t figured out exactly why yet. 

“It is my concern. I’m not going to tell you who she is just because you have a vendetta against her. Half the villains in this town have a vendetta against her. But you’ve definitely played your hand by revealing yourself to me. Unless you think you’ll get her identity from me and then kill me.” She says it smugly, as if it’s not even something she’d considered, but looking into Killian’s eyes that are gleaming with malice, she realizes that she might actually be in this situation. She knows the second he comprehends her fear as the gleam in his eyes swiftly changes to something more feral, more carnal.

He swaggers over to her but stays far enough away so that she can’t head butt him again. “Have you always imagined this, Emma?” The way he says her name sounds almost menacing. “Me and you in a secluded room together? Have you had fantasies of me tying you up? Mine to do with as I please. Did you dream about kissing these lips?” He taps his lips in an almost playful manner before he reaches out toward her with his metal hand, and Emma has to physically gulp down her repulsion. She wouldn’t have minded it on Killian, but on this villain before her, she doesn’t even want to think about it. He must notice her discomfort (because when has Killian not read her like an open book?), because he pulls it away and almost looks upset. But Emma couldn’t care less because she has finally managed to get her goddamn hands free.

Emma stands up and immediately rears back and punches Killian full on in the mouth (hopefully bruising those lips she still would want to kiss). She almost gets ready to fly out of the warehouse, but then remembers that she is currently Emma and not White Swan, so she looks around to find an exit of some sort to start running toward. She glances quickly at Killian to see if he might be coming after her. He also can fly as The Captain (and now she’s pretty sure that Killian is right about what might have been on that ship if it’s left him with super powers), so she doesn’t want to be caught unaware if he’s right on top of her. But he’s still standing where she left him, again looking very confused, exactly like he did when she head-butted him. She should continue running, should proceed to find that nearest exit, but that puzzled look on his face is giving her pause. It’s happened twice now, the real Killian peeking out after she hit him, and she’s feeling that it might be significant.

“Killian?” She says it softly, almost as if she doesn’t want him to hear it, almost as if he’ll turn back into The Captain if he does. He looks first at the empty chair, and a look of relief comes over him. Then he looks over at her, and fear spreads over his face.

“Emma!” He says, his voice higher than she’s ever heard it before. “You need to leave. You need to get out of here!” He’s frantic now. He’s clutching at his pirate’s luck he wears around his neck like it’s a lifeline. Sweat has started to cover his brow. Emma wants to go over and soothe his fears, but she also knows that Killian isn’t afraid of much, and if he’s this worried about her, something is really wrong. “Please, Emma!” He pleads.

“Killian.” Emma doesn’t know what the fuck is happening, but something is really wrong with Killian, and she’s determined to figure it out, even if it means sacrificing her freedom again.

“Emma, please. It’s not safe for you here. He’s coming ..ahhh!” His pleas are broken by his hands coming to his chest and him doubling over in pain. Instinct immediately takes over and Emma runs to help him.

“Killian, please, talk to me. What is going on right now?” She is behind him, trying to get him up from the ground where he has crouched down. He is still holding his hand to his chest, his screams coming in waves, almost as if something was squeezing him.

Oh, shit!

As if something was squeezing his heart!

No! No, no, no, no, no, no!

Fuck!

She backs away from him slowly while he’s still gasping for breath. She should have figured this out months ago when The Captain’s MO changed. 

She should have guessed when he stopped being flirtatious and started being cruel. 

She should have known the second he called her ‘dearie’ and not ‘love.’

“Killian?” She asks trepidatiously. She’s backing up from him, making sure to put a good amount of distance between them. She doesn’t want him too close. Sure she’s managed to get the upper hand twice, but she’s afraid her luck may be running out, especially if she’s right about what she thinks is going on with Killian.

“Killian?” She asks again, finally gaining his attention. He lifts his head up toward her, his blue eyes colored with fear. Not for himself, she realizes, but fear for her. He’s afraid of what he might do to her. Because….

“Does The Crocodile have your heart, Killian?” She’s not even sure why she’s asking, she already knows the answer is fucking yes. The ‘dearie’ was the clincher. No wonder she broke out in goosebumps every time he said it to her. It’s creepy coming from The Crocodile, let alone from her best friend’s mouth. “God, Killian,” She runs her fingers through her hair, pulling at the ends. “How did this even happen?”

If The Captain was pretty low on the totem pole of villains, then The Crocodile was the ultimate super-villain. His skin was a shimmery gold and he didn’t even look human, hence his name. It had been rumored that he’d been alive for centuries, part of his super powers, along with magic, the power to blink in out of anywhere, and the ability to take someone’s heart from their body and control them with it. And now Emma knew exactly why The Crocodile wanted White Swan. Her magic was as strong as his and she’d actually managed to physically hurt him. In their last battle she’d managed to injure him quite severely. He’d been down for the past several months without nary a trace of him.

“I’m so sorry, Emma.” Killian gasps again, his hand still at his chest where his heart should be. I didn’t even remember until now. He’s….” Killian grunts in pain again. “He’s letting me have my memories.” He falls onto the ground, now also holding his head as apparently all the memories from when his heart was taken come flooding back to him, a process Emma has heard is pretty painful.

“He will make me hurt you to get White Swan, Emma. You need to leave me here!” Emma is torn. If she could use her powers she could find his heart, but if she uses them, The Crocodile would know. He would know who she really is, and then it wouldn’t matter, he’d kill Killian as he’d be of no use to him anymore. She had to trust that leaving Killian and finding a way to save him would be his best chance.

“I’m sorry, Killian.” Tears have started to fall from her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” Emma runs to a door she’s finally located on the other end of the vast warehouse. She discreetly uses her magic to open it and sees that she’s only a few blocks from her apartment, although she knows she can’t go back there. She turns back one more time to see Killian still. He stands up, his eyes now blank, The Crocodile having taken over again. Emma quickly closes the door and flies off before he can follow. She magically changes into her White Swan uniform (white bodysuit with swan feather arms, and a white swan feather mask) in case The Crocodile uses The Captain’s flying powers to come after her, but no one comes out of the warehouse that she can see. She breathes a sigh of relief and flies towards her parents house. She needs to come up with a strategy to get Killian’s heart back quickly before The Crocodile uses it to hurt Killian or come after Emma again.

“I promise I’ll find you, Killian,” she says to herself, removing her mask to wipe the tears from her eyes. “I promise, I’ll always find you.”

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @cssns​ns21 @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx  @qualitycoffeethings @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake @klynn-stormz @tiganasummertree​ @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @deckerstarblanche

[cssns]

The FINAL YEAR of the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer is behind us, so it's time for the CSSNS24 Event Roundup!!!

Does anyone else need a min? I know I do...

Before we get to the roundup itself, I have to give the LOUDEST OF SHOUT OUTS and GROUP HUG to the team of mods - @winterbaby89 @jrob64 @stahlop and @ultraluckycatnd - who helped me EVERY STEP OF THE WAY!!! This event absolutely wouldn't have happened without them and I'm sooooo grateful that they stepped up to the plate to make this final event a success!!! Thank you all soooo much, ladies!!!!

Also as part of this final roundup, I want to share all the links to all the other event roundups that have been reblogged the last few weeks. This has been an PHENOMENAL ride over all these years and I'm so grateful for all the love and support y'all have given it!! And now, all of the fics and art from all of the years will be in one place!!

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Thank you all again for EVERYTHING all these years!!! Its been an honor and privilege to man the helm for most of these years, but it certainly wouldn't have lasted as long as it has without the contributions of all the participants and the enthusiasm of the audience!!!! So thank you all from the bottom of my heart!!!

And now, on to the roundup!!!! Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

I opened us up this year on July 2 with the first of two contributions I prepared for this final event. The Arena was a short and - kinda, maybe, not so much overall, but def by the end - sweet werewolf oneshot with breathtaking artwork by @motherkatereloyshipper !!!

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On ao3

On July 5, @exhaustedpirate posted a not-so-short and extra sexy werewolf fic, In Your Moonlit Eyes, with wonderful artwork by @thejollyroger-writer.

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On ao3

On July 7, @whatevenisthisbloganymore posted the first chapter of a fae fic, Where Idle Feet Wander. Princess Emma of the EF finds herself in the Fae lands and needs help to return home. The first ch was fantastic and I can't wait to see where the journey takes us!

On ao3

On July 9, @jrob64 posted the first chapter of her ghost hunter Killian fic, Ghosted, with artwork provided by yours truly, manips of Neal and Liam courtesy of @motherkatereloyshipper! Now complete with five chapters, Joni took us on QUITE a spooky ride!! Don't read before going to bed at night!!!

Ch1 on Tumblr

On ao3

On July 13, @grimmswan updated both of her fics from last year, Dracula in Storybrooke and Love Bites (But So Do I). Both of these fics are SO MUCH FUN and we are getting very close to their conclusions!!

Dracula in Storybrooke on Tumblr on ao3

Love Bites on Tumblr on ao3

On July 14 @anmylica posted an update to last years fic, Fly With the Black Swan, her alternate telling of the Dark Swan arc. Now three chs in, this is an absolutely beautiful tale so far and I can't wait for more of it!!! Artwork by @zaharadessert

On ao3

On July 15, @theartofdreaming1 posted original artwork for the event featuring mermaid Emma!!! Absolutely beautiful work brought me to tears!!

On July 17, @mie779 posted an alternative take on episode 3x17 The Jolly Roger featuring merman Killian!! Don't Kiss and Tail, a fantastic and utterly delightful what if fic!!! Lovely banner by @iamstartraveller776.

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On July 17, @goforlaunchcee updated last year's fic, Smoke and Mirrors, with absolutely perfect artwork by @piinfeathers!! A ghost/witch story, it's an absolute HOOT and I'm always so happy when she updates!! Now up to ch7.

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On ao3

On July 19, @snowbellewells posted the first of her two offerings for this year's event, On Wings of Storm, with magnificent artwork by @motherkatereloyshipper !!! A beautiful one shot that left me in tears of joy!!

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On ao3

On July 25, @laianely posted the first chapter of her crime mystery No Rest for the Immortals with artwork by @captainswan-kellie (x) and herself (x). A murder mystery featuring vampire Killian, I am BESIDE myself every time she updates. Now on ch7.

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On ao3

On July 27, @xarandomdreamx posted the first chapter of her fic, The Kiss of Life with beautiful artwork provided by @motherkatereloyshipper!! Ohhh, she killed me sharing snippets on discord and the whole chapter did not disappoint!!!! Cannot wait for more of this!!!

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On Aug 4, I posted my second fic for the event, Return to Me, again with stunning artwork by @motherkatereloyshipper !! Since the whole purpose of this event was to bump up the number of werewolf and vampire CS fics, and I'd already posted a werewolf fic this year, I came up with a fic that I thought the original Dracula was kinda about. Turns out that I was very wrong. But anyway, it was a lot of fun to write.

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On Aug 6, @belovedcreation posted the first chapter of an epic werewolf fic, Can I Be Your Werewolf? featuring lovely artwork from @mie779!! 33 chapters that she just finished posting TODAY, it was an awesome ride from start to finish!!!

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On ao3

On Aug 8, @everything-person shared with us a smorgasbord of ideas that she came up with, but real life intervened and she wasn't able to write full fics for them. HOWEVER, she did make art for them all and shared a snippet of where she wanted to go with each one. Each one was absolutely fantastic and I hope there will come a day when she is able to write the fics and share them with us!!

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On Aug 10, @jonesfandomfanatic posted the first two chs of her fic, Into the Parallel. Now on ch6 of 7, this is an incredible time travel/realm jumper fic that I am absolutely in love with!!!

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On ao3

On Aug 16, @exhaustedpirate posted her second fic of the event, Haunted By the Ghost of You, again with beautiful artwork by @thejollyroger-writer. The first chapter was lovely and heartbreaking in equal measure and I cannot wait to see the happy ending she has promised me will happen. Someday...

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On Aug 21, @snowbellewells submitted her second fic of the event, For All Life and For All Time, this fic actually inspired by Dracula. The first of three chs is currently up and I cannot wait to see more of it!!!

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On ao3

On Aug 22, @hollyethecurious posted the first chapter of Once Upon a Grimm, her incredible fic using the lore and some storylines of the TV series Grimm featuring Once characters. @eastwesthomeisbest provided the gorgeous artwork!! We are now two chs in and I can already tell, we are in for a really fun ride!!!

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On Aug 24, @wyntereyez posted a second fic to her series Bats In the Belfry. This year's fic, Wool of Bat and Tongue of Dog is a MC and a fantastic follow-up to A Little Batty from last year!!! Artwork by @jrob64 .

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On ao3

On Aug 25, @cocohook38 posted her artwork for last years fic by @iamstartraveller776 To Cleave Destiny. We only have the first ch of the fic posted, but it's amazing already and Jules artwork just gives me chills!!!

Artwork post on Tumblr

Fic on ao3

On Aug 26, @eastwesthomeisbest posted a series of manips of Emma Dressed in Blood. Literally took my breath away!!! Gorgeously creepy!!!

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On Aug 29, @zaharadessert posted the Prologue of her fic, Forget Me Not, with a lovely moodboard made by @exhaustedpirate . This first chapter sets up quite a mystery and I can't wait to see where she goes with this!!!

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On ao3

On Aug 30, @deckerstarblanche posted the final chapter of last year's fic, An Offer She Can't Refuse, with artwork by @undercaffinatednightmare. A super sexy Omegaverse fic, I was soooo thrilled she came back to give CS the happy ending they deserve!!!

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On ao3

Our last fic of the event, Scattered Earth (Mortua Terra), posted just yesterday. Real life intruded and kept @dykelilypage from finishing her fic until last week, but I told her that if she could get it in before I posted the roundup, I'd still include it, and boy did she deliver!!! The fic was absolutely incredible!!! Supernatural investigative reporters Emma Swan and Killian Jones team up to solve a mystery. Utterly perfect artwork done by @eastwesthomeisbest

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On ao3

Well, that's it, y'all!! Our FINAL CSSNS has come to an end!!

Everyone take a moment, take a deep breath, and join me in expressing your appreciation to all the participants this year and over the last six for giving us such PHENOMENAL, INCREDIBLE, FANTASTIC supernatural stories!!! There are still many fics from past years that the authors are still active in fandom and plan on continuing whenever they get a chance. And to that end, this blog is not going anywhere. Whenever an update to a fic posts, I'll be right here to read, flail, and reblog.

Until then, y'all!!!

[spartanguard]

most wanted (9/11) [CSSNS 2021]

Summary: Killian Jones has been tracking Emma Swan, notorious cat burglar, across the realm as she’s wanted for murder. The sooner he finds her, the faster he gets back to his daughter. But meeting an enchanting lass in a small village—along with Miss Swan’s feline familiar (perhaps too familiar)—definitely affects his plans; this case might not be as open-and-shut as he’d like.

A/N: Well I had planned to get this up a week or so ago but *life*. Hopefully these last few chapters will go up a bit quicker! Thank you for sticking around! As always, thanks to the best beta ever @optomisticgirl​​​ and to @cssns​​​ for putting on the event each year, even if I am woefully late with this one.

rated T | 5.7k words | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | AO3

As much as Killian had romanticized the mattresses at Granny’s, he was pleased to find his own was far more comfortable than he recalled (especially compared to his bedroll and the hard-packed dirt they’d camped on the previous nights). 

He slept in a bit later than he normally would have, even though he went to bed roughly the same time he always did, shortly after he’d tucked Alice back in. Belle had retired nearly as soon as he’d rejoined them, most likely so she could have some more time to read on her own, but she’d given him an arched eyebrow as she headed to her room that he couldn’t quite interpret, though suggested she was leaving him alone with Emma intentionally.

There hadn’t been much for them to say, however, other than show her the way to the little-used spare bedroom and wish her a good night. He did apologize for the relatively spartan state of the room—it was truly just a bed and a nightstand, with threadbare curtains barely covering its windows, but Emma waved him off. “Compared to some places I’ve slept, this is luxury,” she assured him. “Probably the nicest I’ll have for a while.”

That was a sufficiently awkward enough note to end the conversation on. He could only hope sleep had found her as swiftly as it had him.

Now, though, as he lazed under the covers, glancing around the familiar trappings of his room and smelling the first whiff of sausage from where Belle was already working in the kitchen, he found that sleep had rested his body and brain, but not his conflicting thoughts and feelings.

But they only needed to lay low for a couple of days—just enough time to let Neal lose their trail and for them to come up with some semblance of a plan for exoneration. He could handle that.

He hoped.

And while he was sorely tempted to whittle down that time by hiding away in his room further, his stomach grumbled its own desires, so he slowly got up, dug some fresh clothes out of his musty wardrobe, quickly cleaned up at his well-loved wash stand, and headed out to the main room.

He was glad that Belle was the only one up—and that she already had a fresh mug of coffee waiting.

They shared quiet good mornings as he grabbed the cup, took a long pull from it, then went about setting the table per usual while exchanging simple pleasantries, like asking how he slept, and how she was liking the new book. Comfortable silence eventually settled on them as they continued their morning routine, but once he took a seat—while Belle was plating pancakes—she addressed him a bit more seriously.

“Killian…I know you know what you’re doing, and I trust your judgment, but…please be careful.”

“I always am,” he assured her. It had only taken one close call with a wanted pirate he was bringing in for him to exercise more caution while working, lest anything potentially take him away from Alice. (Though it wasn’t as obvious an injury as that to his left arm, the scar leftover from the bullet graze he took in that encounter carried almost as much weight.)

“You know what I mean,” she admonished, giving him a stern look. “I’m not talking physically; I’m talking emotionally.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she wouldn’t let him. “Don’t try to deny anything; I know you well, Killian Jones, and I read your letters.”

He’d long since learned when to argue with Belle and when it was a losing battle; the current discussion was the latter. Instead, he took another drag of his coffee to gird himself for whatever she was building to.

She busied herself at the stove for a bit, letting tension build in the quiet (though he could hear the creak of a bed frame somewhere in the house). But after she’d set the platters of food on the table, she put her hand over his brace—more specifically, over his blunted wrist. “We’ve both been there, Killian,” she cautioned, concern in her blue eyes. “I don’t want you—either of us—to get hurt again.”

“I know,” he sighed, reaching over to pat her hand where it rested on his arm. She’d always had an uncanny way of reading his worries better than he did. “I know.”

She gave him a sad half-smile and then a peck on the cheek—but then both jumped at the sound of the squeaky floorboard in the living room being stepped on.

“Oh—sorry,” Emma apologized, averting her eyes. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Nothing to interrupt,” Belle waved off and moved back toward the stove. “Coffee?”

“Please,” she practically moaned, drawing a chuckle from the others. Almost instinctively, Killian stood and pulled out a seat for her, which she accepted, albeit cautiously—as though she was afraid she might break something or commit a faux pas.

Until the mug was in front of her and she pounced on it, draining it in one gulp.

“Did you sleep alright, love?” he had to ask.

“Oh, best I’ve slept in a while,” she answered. “Almost too well. Is that mattress magic? Because I could very easily fall back into it right now.”

Belle laughed and refilled Emma’s mug. “No; it’s exceedingly normal. But probably better than sleeping in the woods.”

“By far.”

The three of them started in on breakfast—Alice wouldn’t be up for a bit—and made light conversation, but he could tell something was bothering Emma.

So could Belle. “It looks like a question is caught in your throat,” Belle said to her. “You can ask.”

(He wasn’t sure what it meant that, despite her reservations, Belle seemed just as comfortable around Emma as he was.)

Emma briefly worried her bottom lip while glancing between the two of them. “I didn’t mean to overhear, and if I’m prying, you don’t have to answer, but…what you were talking about when I came in. Where exactly is it you’ve been before?”

Killian looked over at Belle, who had also sought out his attention. Even though his own history had been nagging at him the past few days, he’d hesitated to share it with Emma, for what were hopefully obvious reasons. But Belle’s tale wasn’t his to share—even if, he now realized, they had discussed it in part. Still—it was a fairly loaded question and he’d need a boost of confidence from Belle to be willing to divulge it.

The far-too-casual shrug she gave was enough.

“I haven’t told you about Alice’s mother, have I?” he started, facing Emma again.

“No,” she confirmed. “But I got the impression she was out of the picture.”

“Aye, and with good reason.” Belle was already topping off his mug, knowing he’d need the extra fuel; he swallowed it down and began the story:

After Milah died, after he’d lost his hand, and early in his bounty hunting career, he was still an angry young man but no longer quite so rebellious. That said, he still enjoyed his fair share of vices—most notably, booze and women (and the combination thereof).

He was no stranger to dive bars as both a place for recreation and information, and found himself in one such locale on a quest for news of the Dark One—one of the most sadistic criminals the kingdom had yet known. He wasn’t just after riches; he was after power—of the magic variety. It wasn’t uncommon to find a wake of bodies with their hearts ripped from their chests in his trail as he sought the magical objects that would grant him what he sought. 

One of those bodies was Milah’s, though that one was obviously a bit more personal.

When Killian’s less-than-legal pursuits of the demon proved fruitless, Nemo had offered him the chance to do it the right way—and he’d jumped on it. Granted, there were some bits of procedure and bureaucracy back then that he found pointless (and, if he was being honest, still did), but he was certainly making more progress than his previous attempts.

That night in particular had ended up being a bust; whatever tip Graham had passed along to him was a dead end, so he decided it best to salvage the evening any way he could. He started by ordering a bottle of cheap rum from the bartender and quickly downing a few shots, which apparently drew the attention of another patron. 

Her name was Eloise, and though he couldn’t recall her opening line, he remembered being charmed by it—as well as her strawberry-blonde curls and the bit of wildness in her smile. They began to exchange words and shots, until they had a hearty buzz going on. He made up a story about still being a sailor; she told him she worked as a maid for a local aristocrat. In hindsight, he should have known she wasn’t being forthright when he wasn’t either, but he didn’t rightly care in the moment.

She invited him to her room above the bar. He accepted. And they spent one very pleasurable night together, before bidding an amicable adieu in the morning.

Though he wouldn’t have minded seeing her again, he wasn’t naive enough to expect he ever would—especially as the chase for the Dark One picked up. He’d honestly forgotten entirely about her as he worked towards, and eventually succeeded in, taking down the demon in the next few months.

It wasn’t until several months later, when he was tasked with bringing in a con artist named Eloise, that the memories of her and that night began to trickle in—but it was a fairly common name, and he had no reason to assume the two were the same. She hadn’t struck him as the type to prey on others under the guise of an expectant mother in need of help, only to rob them blind and disappear.

Not until he actually tracked down the mark to where she was operating, in a town not far from where they’d met, and the woman on the other side of the door at the address given to him by her latest victim proved to be none other than his past paramour.

They were both briefly stunned, but he recovered sooner than she did. “Well, hello again, love. Should I be flattered that you didn’t steal from me, too?” he asked as he quickly handcuffed her.

“It wasn’t me,” she protested, albeit weakly; even she knew the jig was up. “I’m just an innocent young mother—”

“Sure you are,” he sneered, glancing her up and down as he slipped the magic-blocking cuff on her wrist and took in the noticeable lack of belly; he had to assume it had been an illusion and he wasn’t about to let her use any power she might have to escape. “You’re not even actually pregnant.”

“Not anymore,” she scoffed.

“What?” That made him pause, but the subsequent wails of an infant from farther back in the room drew his attention.

“Yes, I really had a baby,” she continued, sounding more annoyed than happy over the event. “No thanks to you.”

“What?” he repeated, further in disbelief.

“She’s yours. Go on, look.”

A pit had formed in his stomach, and his instincts warned that she could be lying. Although—he thought back to the date of their tryst, and the math did add up.

Cautiously, he stepped toward the bassinet in the middle of the bare-bones room. The babe’s cries picked up in intensity, and he was overcome with the need to comfort her. But he remained wary.

However, he knew it was true the moment he stood over her. Her features were unmistakably similar to those of his mother, most notably the slightly pointed ears he had also inherited—a trademark passed down from their elfin ancestry several generations back.

“Can you take her?” Eloise asked. “Honestly, I was about ready to give her up.”

Fire quickly replaced shock. “And you weren’t going to tell me?” The idea of any child being abandoned like he was, let alone his own flesh and blood, was horrifying.

“How would I have?” she spat back.

She had a point; they’d only ever exchanged first names. But she couldn’t truly expect him to be thinking rationally at the moment, not with the weight of the information—and responsibility—she’d just dropped on him.

He swallowed, and then turned his attention back to the babe, and carefully picked her up, careful to keep the sharp end of his hook away from her. She quieted nearly as soon as he pulled her against his chest, and looked up at him with her big blue eyes—and that was that.

Thankfully, he’d been working the job with Graham, who soon arrived to see what was taking so long. Graham took over from there, after Eloise assured him that she wanted nothing to do with the child. “She’s all yours. Good luck—she’s a screamer.”

“And then I took her home, and, nine years later, here we are,” he concluded. “It’s not something I’m the most proud of, but I wouldn’t trade Alice for the world.”

“Wow,” Emma sighed, but the way she was staring at the table and seemed to be hunched in on herself told him she was feeling a bit of shame. He hadn’t told her the story to make her feel bad, though there were some obvious parallels in choice of careers. “What happened to Eloise?” she asked timidly.

“She went away for a while,” he answered simply. “Unfortunately, I heard that she passed a few years ago. Though, if I’m being honest, it was something of a relief—I didn’t have to worry about her changing her mind about Alice anymore.”

“It’s her loss,” Emma told him. “Alice is amazing, and you’ve done a wonderful job with her.”

“Thank you,” he replied, blushing per usual. “But Belle gets a lot of the credit, too. Although the look of shock on your face when I arrived home with her is still seared in my memory,” he chuckled, glancing over at Belle.

“How else was I supposed to react? You didn’t even send a letter to warn me!” she chided, but she was laughing, too. If they hadn't been able to find any humor in the things life had thrown at them, gods only knew how insane they’d be driven by now.

“I guess that partly answers how long you’ve been living together,” Emma continued. “You said you were siblings, or sort of?”

He and Belle exchanged another look that probably only served to confirm their type of relationship to Emma, even though it was a fair bit more complicated than that. “Well,” he started, but wasn’t sure how to continue without getting into Belle’s story, and he didn’t want to be the one to share it.

Thankfully, she took over. “Actually, that’s where my own tale comes in,” Belle started. “I’ve been with him since the take-down of the Dark One…because I was with the Dark One.”

“He had you captive?” Emma gasped.

“No, I was…I loved him.”

The fact that she used past tense didn’t escape Killian’s notice; it had taken Belle some time to come to terms with her feelings towards the man, even if she’d been glad their relationship was over and he’d been imprisoned. 

Emma’s eyes widened. “Oh, you’re that Belle?”

Belle tilted her head in confusion. “Beg your pardon?”

Now Emma looked nervous—although Killian was quickly connecting the dots in his head. “I guess I forgot to mention last night that my ex was Neal—the Dark One’s son,” she explained.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Belle cursed. “So I was nearly your mother-in-law?”

“Apparently,” Emma replied, laughing slightly in disbelief. “It always bugged Neal that his dad was dating someone not a ton older than he was.”

“I can’t say I was unaware of the situation, but Neal came around so little, it wasn’t a significant concern on my end.” Belle sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry to hear his life went in that direction, though; I know he didn’t like the idea of following in his father’s footsteps, but it sounds like he didn’t stray as far from it as I might have thought.”

“He hates magic, but otherwise, he’s not afraid to go to any end to get what he wants.”

“That definitely sounds familiar,” Belle commiserated. “Well, I suppose that all was more of an answer than you expected to your initial question.”

“A bit,” she concurred, “but I guess I’m not all that shocked that the world is slightly smaller than I thought it was.” The warm look she gave Killian then suggested she didn't mind that fact.

It was strange for Killian to think that, in another life, they all might still have found their way to each other; it was an idea he was about to voice when Alice practically ran out of her room, shouting her good mornings to everyone.

As she usually did, Alice became the focus of everyone’s attention, and hers was unsurprisingly fixated on Emma, who thankfully had already had her meal or she wouldn’t have been able to eat between Alice’s endless questions.

But as the day wore on, his mind wandered back to his previous thought—had fate actually brought them all together? The overlaps in their lives were too numerous to be coincidental.

Or was he merely grasping at straws in an attempt to justify the feelings that wouldn’t budge? Because if there was one thing he realized while reflecting on his past liaisons—particularly with Eloise, and the memories of Milah that always came up when mentioning the Dark One—it was that, despite knowing he shouldn’t, he most certainly still had them for Emma as well, far deeper than he thought he did.

Belle had been correct in her warning; she usually was. But only he could mitigate the impending heartbreak.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Killian tried to keep his distance from Emma over the next couple of days, but the house was only so big, and there was still the matter of determining a plan before they headed for Longbourn that necessitated they spend time together.

To make matters worse—or better; he wasn’t sure—Emma seemed to fit into their little life all too well. She was patient with Alice; she got on well with Belle; and seemed comfortable exploring the woods nearby and lounging on the seashore the house overlooked. She insisted on helping with chores when Alice wasn’t dragging her away to show her something, even though he and Belle both assured her she was fine—but he knew it was old instincts (orphan instincts) trying to make sure she was useful so they’d keep her around, even if her stay had a definitive end date.

Those couple evenings were spent far too casually and comfortably in the great room, everyone chatting, reading, or just with Emma in her cat form curled up and purring in Alice’s lap. Ever inquisitive, that was one of the first questions Alice had begged of Emma after she interrupted their breakfast conversation. (Though they feigned disinterest, the other adults were curious about that, too.)

Emma had shown Alice her tattoo, explaining how it was imbued with transformation magic. “All I have to do is think about it, and then it just…happens.”

Alice traced it with her index finger. “Does it always hum like that?”

“Hum?” The question seemed to take Emma aback.

“Aye—you don’t feel it? It’s like—warm and vibrate-y.”

Emma looked over at Killian with a confused furrow in her brow, but Killian could only raise his and shrug in response. Considering he and Belle were only ever on the periphery of magic use, they had long since learned to roll with whatever Alice said about her own innate sense of it.

“Can you show me?” Alice continued, oblivious to the adults’ bewilderment.

“Of course,” Emma answered, sounding glad for the redirect. She shifted forms right on the chair, and then shifted back, all while Alice stared with stars in her eyes.

“Papa, can I get a tattoo like that?” she nearly begged.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, but had to tell her, “Maybe when you’re older.”

Alice briefly pouted, but then grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her away on a tour of the house and yard, and that had been roughly the situation for the duration of those couple days.

At night, after Alice was asleep, they discussed the best way to deal with Emma’s predicament and to hopefully deal with Neal at the same time. They’d come to something resembling a plan, and Killian had Belle send a letter to Nemo when she made a trip into the closest village the day before they set to depart—a moment he was both eager for and dreading.

Obviously, he hated to leave Alice again so soon, even if he’d only be gone a few days and not the almost interminable weeks he’d spent chasing Emma. But despite his best efforts, it was far too easy to fall into playing family with Emma there, and more than once, he had to catch himself—from admiring the way the sun hit her braided-back hair while she worked in the yard, hinting at its natural golden color; from grinning at the way she and Alice were giggling and holding hands upon returning from a hike; from realizing just how close their bodies—especially, her lips to his—were while hunched over a map of the kingdom. (She may also have jumped away upon noticing the last one, much to his simultaneous relief and dismay.)

(The number of times one of them caught the other’s eye while trying not to stare was countless.)

At least he had a bit of a respite during nightly story time with Alice, even if the book was intrinsically linked with Emma. Seeing it through Alice’s eyes gave it a different life, though, and he was enjoying picking up on details he had missed in his first furious read-through while also seeing Alice’s reactions. And gods, he prayed she never grew too big to share this tradition with him; even if she was well on her way to adolescence, having her tucked into his side as they read made it feel like she’d always be his little girl—and like he wasn’t missing out on watching her grow when his work took him away for far-too-long stretches of time.

(And he was actively avoiding thoughts of the bounty he’d likely collect when this adventure was all over, considering the cost it was going to come at.)

On that last night of their detour, he had kept reading until Alice was asleep—which didn’t take long, as she’d spent the better part of the afternoon running around in the ocean’s shallows with Emma. When he reached the end of that chapter, he made sure to put the bookmark at the end of the previous one so she wouldn’t miss anything when they picked it back up.

He set it on her bedside table and slowly stood from the mattress, being careful to not disturb Alice too much. She noticed, though, and was blearily blinking her eyes even before he’d pressed a kiss to her forehead and wished her a good sleep.

“Papa, I like Emma,” she muttered sleepily.

His heart skipped the same beat it’d been hopping over for the past few days. But he responded as casually as he could. “I’m glad to hear that, starfish.”

“Do you like her?” she asked innocently.

“Aye, I do. That’s why I’m helping her.”

“But do you like-like her? Like how Westley likes Buttercup?” 

He sighed. It was far too late into the evening to even try to give that a proper answer. “I…I don’t know, love,” would have to suffice for now.

“Well, you should,” she told him, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He had to chuckle at her bluntness, even if the statement reminded him why he didn’t want Alice getting attached to Emma in the first place. Ah, well—he could deal with the fallout from that later, whatever it ended up being. “Good night, Alice,” he farewelled, tucked her in with a kiss, and turned down her lamp. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Papa,” she replied—at least, it sounded vaguely like that, as she was well on her way back to sleep.

Emma had already turned in when he went back out to the main room, and he probably should have, too, but Belle was staring into the fire with a pensive look on her face that usually meant she wanted to talk.

“Well,” he started as he eased down into his chair opposite her. “What lecture do you have for me now?”

She rolled her eyes at his bluntness, but then her expression turned soft. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he deflected, though it was more for his own benefit than to get her off his case.

“Killian David Jones,” she chided. “You know what I mean. You always do.”

“Isabelle Colette French,” he threw back, but didn’t have much more of a retort. “Aye, I’ll be fine…eventually,” he conceded. “I’ll have to be. Though I may brood for a bit.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.” She stood and stretched, yawning audibly, then rested her hand on his shoulder. “And it’s a bloody shame; I really like her. You’d be so good together.”

His jaw dropped in shock; that was quite the opposite of her position just the other morning. He looked up at her to see whether or not she was being serious, but she was already walking away to her room. She wasn’t one to tease in matters of the heart, though (well, other than mocking over the occasional pass made at him by the Widow Feinberg in the village, but the older woman did that to any man under the age of 40).

As good as the validation of his feelings felt, there wasn’t much to be done about it. He still had to get Emma to Longbourn—she was still a wanted criminal. He sighed heavily and scrubbed a hand down his face in something resembling exasperation, though more with the situation than anyone in particular.

He stared at the dying embers in the fire for another long moment, before deciding it best to head to bed himself; they were planning on setting off by midday, and there was still packing and other chores to be done before they could leave, so he’d need his rest tonight.

Of course, it wouldn’t come. Anxiety and anticipation for whatever was to come the next couple of days wouldn’t let him rest, along with the ongoing uncertainty towards how he should approach his feelings for Emma. 

Should he just give in, and enjoy whatever they might have for this brief time? Or start pulling back and brace for the inevitable withdrawal? (He’d experienced that a couple times in this life, purging alcohol from his system, and it hadn’t been pleasant; while this might hurt less physically, the emotional toll would probably come close.)

He tried all the tricks he normally used when sleep evaded him—listing off constellations, making lists of what needed to be done, even simply counting his breaths—but any time he managed to drift off, it wasn’t for long; he was far too consumed by nervous energy.

Finally, some time near sunrise, he gave up altogether and threw the covers off in a fit of exasperation. He got up and grabbed his dressing robe, stepped into his slippers, then tiptoed outside as quietly as he could manage, lest he disturb his sleeping housemates.

He wandered out to the beach, hoping the gentle waves and rising sun would give him a chance to calm his erratic nerves, only to find he wasn’t the only one with that idea. Emma stood near the edge of the shore, arms wrapped around her as she stared out at the horizon. A slight breeze blew her skirt around her legs and her hair into her face, and she shivered; apparently, he was the more prepared of the two of them.

“You should be asleep,” he said softly as he wrapped his robe around her. “Or at least dressed more warmly.”

She had jumped when he spoke, evidently not hearing his approach, but relaxed when she saw it was him and didn’t hesitate to pull the robe tighter around her. “So should you. And I guess I forgot how cold it can get by the ocean; I don’t remember it being this chilly in Storybrooke.”

“We’re a bit farther north, and Storybrooke has some natural insulation from the wind with the way its harbor is shaped. Your skirt certainly doesn’t help,” he added lightly.

She had borrowed a dress from Belle to wear while her cream gown was being washed; it fit, but she had a good few inches on Belle and it left her lower legs uncovered. There wasn’t much light but by the way she was standing, he had to assume her skin was covered in gooseflesh. (His certainly was, but he was also more accustomed to the temperature. Still—he was grabbing a sweater when they went back inside.) 

“I’ll survive,” she brushed off, but the way she seemed to nestle even further into the robe showed her appreciation. As did the genuine “thank you” that followed.

“I’d be a piss-poor host to drag you all this way and then let you die of a chill in what's supposed to be a haven. But you’re most welcome.”

They fell silent, watching the sky and sea as the waves lapping at the shore tried to drown out the unsaid words between them. The horizon was just beginning to lighten, slowly hiding the stars that hung low in the sky.

“So, why couldn’t you sleep?” Emma asked quietly, her eyes staying forward.

He hummed in thought—not because he didn’t know the reason, but because he wasn’t sure he wanted to confess how much of it was her. “Just…a little bit of everything,” he settled on, hoping that was equal parts vague and descriptive enough to define his mental state.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” she replied, sighing a bit. At least he wasn’t alone in that. 

She seemed very intent on rolling a stone around under her boot, so he didn’t say anything to interrupt her, but he did notice that she seemed a bit restless. It wasn’t surprising, really, when he thought about it; not only was she on the cusp of going to prison, most likely, she also hadn’t taken a chance to really pause in the last couple months. He had chalked it up to life on the lam, but it was just as likely she enjoyed being constantly on the move. Before Alice, he’d much preferred constant motion, lest his ghosts catch up with him, and goodness knew Emma had a few of her own.

But…she was still here. So he had to ask, “Why haven’t you run away?”

She stiffened a bit at the question, but wasn’t outright offended—which told him he’d hit close to home. “I thought about it,” she said, sounding almost disappointed. “Even this morning, I debated just transforming and making a break for it. But I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” His voice was far more unsteady than he intended.

“It’s kind of like you said,” she shrugged, eyes still on the pebbled ground. “It’d be incredibly rude of me to take advantage of your kindness only to make my own escape, and probably end up getting you into trouble in the process. There’s been enough collateral damage around me lately; I couldn’t live with myself if I did that to you, too.”

The familiar stutter of his heart allowed the breath he was holding to escape. He hadn’t doubted that she cared for him, but hearing that was somewhat bittersweet: she cared enough about him to not hurt him, even though it was coming at the cost of her own freedom. And he didn’t know how to respond to that.

“I…I appreciate that, greatly,” he eventually told her. He also finally dared to look over at her, only to find her giving him a small, slightly sad smile that he both understood and returned.

Another shiver took over her then, so he stepped closer and wrapped his arm around her. Only then did he realize that he hadn’t put his brace on, but if she noticed his blunted left wrist resting on her shoulder, she didn’t acknowledge it; all she did was rest her head on his shoulder, bringing them ever closer.

They stayed like that until the sun fully rose, bathing everything in its orange light. It wasn’t hard to imagine starting the day like this more often than not, but such daydreams were moot at this point.

A shudder wracked his body; it was his turn to feel the effects of the cool temperatures, even if the sun was warm on his face. Emma only chuckled, though, and stepped back, but reached for his hand. “C’mon; let’s head back in. Do you have any cocoa?”

“Maybe?”

“I hope so. Let me make you some.”

Thankfully, they did, and she made it with care. He was mildly amused when she dug out some cinnamon from the pantry to put on hers, but when he tried it for himself, he immediately understood the appeal: sweet with just a hint of spice—much like the woman sitting across from him at the dining table. (Belle and Alice seemed to enjoy it, too, when they eventually rose.)

While he would have much preferred that morning be the first spent in a similar manner, if it had to be the last, he would take it.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

thanks for reading! tagging some (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609​​​​ @xpumpkindumplingx​​​​ @shipsxahoy​​​​ @shireness-says​​​​ @ohmightydevviepuu​​​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​​​​ @thisonesatellite​​​​ @winterbythesea​​​​  @mryddinwilt​​​​ @cocohook38​​​​ @annytecture​​​​  @wingedlioness​​​​ @word-bug​​​​  @distant-rose​​​​ @wellhellotragic​​​​ @welllpthisishappening​​​​ @let-it-raines​​​​ @pirateherokillian​​​​ @its-imperator-furiosa​​​​ @fergus80​​​​ @killianmesmalls​​​​ @thejollyroger-writer​​​​ @ineffablecolors​​​​ @laschatzi​​​​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​​​​ @nfbagelperson​​​​ @stubblesandwich​​​​ @phiralovesloki​​​​ @athenascarlet​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​​​ @snowbellewells​​​​ @idristardis​​​​ @scientificapricot​​​​ @searchingwardrobes​​​​ @donteattheappleshook​​​​ @jrob64​​​​ @the-darkdragonfly​​​​ @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop​​​​ @klynn-stormz​​​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​​​ @deckerstarblanche​

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

I crave your lips as the moon craves the night

I crave your body as the ocean craves salt

I crave your love as the heart craves a beat

Alfredo Cano

This is my first CSSNS, I generally stay within the confines of modern work, it was only recently that I wanted to travel back to the Enchanted Forest realm for some of my stories, but Krystal asked me to join this year and I thought, why not stretch myself to try something different, even if I don't usually read fics of this nature, I wanted to branch out. Here is part 1 of my 3 part contribution.

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Dead Man’s Cell Phone--Chapter 2

Summary: When Emma Swan starts getting phone calls and texts from an unfamiliar number, she decides to check it out–only to discover the number belongs to a Killian Jones, who was killed in a robbery gone wrong six months ago.  With some help from a medium, Merlin Emrys, Emma hopes to find out why a dead guy is contacting her–and why she feels such a strong pull to someone she has never met before.

Rating: K+

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones@kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @a-rose-for-a-savior@in-spirational @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst@kmomof4  @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch@allyourdarlingswans @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @cssns @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @eastwesthomeisbest @dreamingdreamsalways @xsajx @justren21 @laughterandbooks @cocohook38​ @therealstartraveller776​

Welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! A big thank you to @cssns​, the ladies on the Discord!  Thank you also to @eastwesthomeisbest​, my artist and my beta @veryverynotgood​!

Other Chapters: Prologue 1 3 4 Epilogue 

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

"So after the phone calls, the text messages started coming," Emma said, settling into her best friend's plush sofa.

"Texts?" Mary Margaret asked curiously before taking a sip of her tea. "What kind of texts?"

It felt like Emma had known Mary Margaret forever. Both girls were placed in the system at young ages-Emma, because her parents abandoned her on the side of a road as an infant, and Mary Margaret, because her parents both died of illness. They ended up in the same group home, and quickly became the best of friends. They were closer than sisters until the day Mary Margaret was adopted by Cora Mills, and then eventually, Emma was fostered by Ruth Nolan.

Even after being placed with other families, Emma and Mary Margaret kept in touch-letters, phone calls, even the occasional visit. On one such visit, Emma's foster brother, David, was home from college, and as soon as he and Mary Margaret met, it was love at first sight.

They were so in love it was honestly a bit nauseating.

When they got married fresh out of college, Emma couldn't be happier. She'd always considered Mary Margaret her sister in all the ways that counted, and now they truly were.

There was no doubt about it - Mary Margaret Nolan was the person Emma was closest to in the entire world, and so it was only natural that when the weird stuff with the cell phone started happening, Emma decided to discuss it with her.

"Weird ones," Emma answered, taking a sip of her own hot cocoa with cinnamon. "Stuff like Help! or You're the only one who can save me!. And then some of them were even stranger. Just...random letters and symbols, almost like someone was randomly pressing buttons on a keyboard."

"So what did you do?" Mary Margaret asked, sitting on the other side of the sofa and turning toward Emma.

Emma shrugged. "I tried answering at first. You know, you hear about people who are abducted and, like, stuck in a basement for years and stuff like that. I kept thinking, what if someone really needed help and I just...ignored them?"

"And what happened when you answered?" Mary Margaret asked.

"Nothing," Emma answered before taking another sip. "No answer, just another cryptic text several hours later. Finally, I decided I'd had enough. Either someone needed help, or someone was messing with me. I decided I'd call the number, decide whether I needed to help them or tell them to go f-" She stopped, glancing over at Mary Margaret's toddler playing with blocks nearby. "Well, go do something not at all child-friendly to themselves."

"Let me guess, your call didn't get through."

"Nope," Emma confirmed, "but it was even weirder than that. I dialed the number just after receiving a text, but it went directly to voicemail."

"But that's not possible!" Mary Margaret exclaimed.

"Right?" Emma said. "So I tried to ignore the whole thing. Maybe the phone was just...I don't know..glitching or something, although I don't know how a technological glitch could make phone calls and text someone. Anyway, for some reason, I just can't let go. Even though I don't know him, somehow I feel a...connection...to this Killian Jones. I just-I don't know what to do about it."

Mary Margaret was silent for a moment, taking several sips of her steaming beverage, before turning back to Emma with a cautious look in her eyes. "There is...there is another possibility, if you have an open mind."

"Just how open are we talking?"

"Pretty open," Mary Margaret said. "What if-and just hear me out, I know this is crazy-what if Killian Jones is contacting you from beyond the grave."

"What, like a ghost?"

Mary Margaret shrugged. "I mean, I know it sounds crazy, but why not? One of the other teachers I work with was talking about this medium. His name is Merlin Emrys. Supposedly he can contact the dead and see ghosts and stuff like that."

"A medium? Seriously?" Emma asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. "Mary Margaret, you know those people are frauds. It's all about researching their marks ahead of time and then cold reading them. They're only in it to bleed as much cash out of vulnerable people as possible."

"I know it sounds crazy," Mary Margaret conceded, "but what if it's not? I've thought about going to him myself. If I could just talk to my parents one more time-make sure they're okay, make sure they've moved on, or whatever happens after someone dies. Well, it would provide a lot of comfort."

Emma's heart turned over, and she took her friend's hand. She knew how much Mary Margaret missed her parents. It was different for Emma. She'd never known her parents, only knew they'd tossed her out like garbage. She wasn't sure she even wanted to find them.

"I know you miss them," Emma said.

"I do," Mary Margaret said, "but that's not the point. The point is...what do you have to lose? Maybe this Merlin is just a quack like you said, but maybe not. Maybe he could be the key to unravelling the whole mystery."

Emma was silent for a moment. It was crazy; she knew it was. A medium wasn't going to give her the answers she needed if all her bail bonds tricks had failed her, but what the hell?

"Fine. I'll go see Merlin," Emma caved.

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

Emma's eyebrows rose as she took in the small, ranch-style house Mary Margaret had directed her to. She was skeptical before seeing the place, but now-now red flags were going up everywhere.

There was a huge, gaudy sign out front that read "Merlin, the great and powerful. Wizard of the unknown and medium of the great beyond." The sign-indeed the entire front of the house-was decorated with all kinds of astrological signs and symbols.

Was this guy even for real?

Emma seriously considered turning around and getting back in her car, but she'd promised Mary Margaret she'd at least check this Merlin out and give him a chance, and Emma was a woman of her word. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

A moment later, an older man with longish, thinning gray hair and a rather unkempt gray beard opened the door. He was wearing long robes. Really playing the part, apparently.

"Merlin Emrys, I presume?" Emma asked as the man welcomed her inside with a sweep of his hand.

The man chuckled. "I'm afraid not. I'm merely his apprentice. Who might I tell Merlin is calling?"

Emma cocked an eyebrow. "You mean your all powerful boss didn't see me coming with his second sight or whatever?"

Emma stepped inside and the apprentice shut the door after her. "My master isn't clairvoyant. He merely has the ability to speak with the dead."

"Right," Emma said, not even trying to tamp down the skepticism in her voice. "I'm Emma Swan, and I'm here to-"

He stopped her with a raised hand. "Don't say too much. Merlin does not wish to be influenced by his clients. He wishes to sense the energy around you for himself."

Emma shrugged. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright," the apprentice said, moving toward large drapes at the far end of the room. "I'll be just a moment. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Emma looked around the room while she waited, and it took everything in her to keep from rolling her eyes. This guy was really playing up the whole "psychic" thing. It felt like she was in some sort of fortune teller carnival tent. All the signs and symbols. This guy even had a crystal ball. An actual crystal ball.

This trip was a massive waste of her time, but maybe it would at least prove to be entertaining.

"Emma Swan, welcome!"

Emma looked up at the handsome black man who made his way through the curtains. He was dressed in much the same way as his apprentice, only he wore a sorcerer's pointy hat on his head.

"Uh, thanks," Emma said, stepping forward and offering her hand. "Full disclosure. I'm more than a little bit of a skeptic, so if this is one of those 'it can only work if you truly believe' deals, we might have a problem."

"My gift can withstand the doubts of the skeptic," he chuckled before reaching out and taking her hand.

No sooner had his hand touched hers than he gasped, taking a step back, eyes going wide. "Would you-would you care to follow me back to my private sitting room, Miss Swan? It's far more comfortable back there."

Emma cocked a brow again, wondering what this odd man was on about. Still, she didn't sense any overt deception in him, and he didn't seem to be any threat to her, so she shrugged before following him through the curtains.

This backroom was far more ordinary than the room they'd just inhabited. Emma took a plush armchair, and Merlin sat on a sofa across from her.

Merlin pulled off his hat and sat it beside him. "I apologize for all the theatrics, Miss Swan," he said, reaching for a pot of tea and then raising an eyebrow in question. Emma declined the beverage with a small shake of her head, and Merlin proceeded to pour himself a cup. "I attempt to play up to what most clients expect from a psychic. Unfortunately, most poor souls who come to see me are out of luck. The loved one they wish to contact has passed on. For most, all I can do amounts to smoke and mirrors. I could tell the moment I shook your hand that you were different."

Emma inwardly scoffed. She knew enough about cons not to be fooled by a clever con man. Made sense he'd use a different tactic with a skeptic than he would with some poor, grief-stricken sap who was a true believer.

"No offense, but I still think you're full of crap," she said.

Merlin smiled. "It seems those with the most energy surrounding them always do."

"So, what?" Emma asked. "Are there ghosts all around me or something?"

"There are a few spirits here with us today," Merlin confirmed. "There's one who's quite insistent. It's a man; looks as though he died rather young. I don't sense he's family, but you were close. Maybe coworkers? Perhaps friends?"

Emma took a deep breath, a face coming to mind. Surely he couldn't mean-

"I'm getting a G in the name," Merlin said slowly. "Greg or Gray….no. Graham."

Emma's heart turned over. Graham. Sweet, slightly dorky Graham Humbert. They'd worked together on more than a few cases, and they'd become good friends.

In fact, they'd been teetering on the precipice of possibly becoming more than friends when he died suddenly.

"How did you know to mention Graham? How did you know that name would get the biggest rise out of me?" Emma demanded, voice hard.

"I don't choose the spirits who come to me," Merlin explained calmly, "I merely give them a voice. Graham is pleased to see you again. He's glad you're doing well."

The anger came then, spurred on by the pain the memory of Graham's death brought back. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"He died quite suddenly, didn't he?" Merlin asked, ignoring her question. "I'm feeling a tightness in my chest. Something with his heart?"

"Heart attack," Emma confirmed tightly. "He had a heart attack right in front of me and died in my arms."

"He's sorry, so very sorry you had to go through that," Merlin said, putting a comforting hand on her arm. "He never wanted to be a source of pain for you."

Emma felt the tears at the back of her eyes and had to take a deep breath to keep them from falling. "Yeah, well, he didn't exactly have a say in the matter. Look, I don't know how you knew to bring up Graham, but I'm still not buying it."

"He apologizes he couldn't bring you a bear claw today," Merlin continued with a smile. "Oh, and he asks if you remember the day he thought he saw a wolf. He wants you to know he wasn't drunk. It really was there-in spirit at least."

Emma gasped, remembering the night she and Graham had gone to the Rabbit Hole for a drink after a long shift and Graham swore he spotted a big, gray wolf right there on the main street of town. Emma had made fun of him for that, telling him he'd clearly imbibed a bit too much that night. There's no way Merlin could have known about that incident. He couldn't have found it in any newspaper or online article about Graham's death.

Was it...was it possible this guy was the real deal?

"Okay, I admit, it's weird you'd bring that up," Emma said. "Let's say I believe you, can you ask Graham if he's okay? If he, like, moved on or whatever?"

"You just asked him," Merlin said. "He's here with us and can hear you. He wants to tell you that he is okay. He's more than okay; he's happy. He's moved on, and he's at peace, more than he could have ever thought possible."

Emma smiled, feeling comfort at the thought.

"There's someone else here with us as well," Merlin said. "Another male presence, but I don't believe you know this one. This one seems angry, desperate."

"Um...should we be scared?" Emma asked.

Merlin shook his head. "He doesn't mean us harm, only wants his story told. He's too indistinguishable to speak now, but I sense he'll be accompanying us on our journey today as well."

Wonderful. An angry, desperate ghost guide. Just fantastic.

"So, Emma," Merlin said, after a moment, "what brings you to me tonight?"

Emma pulled out her phone and laid out the entire story for Merlin. She told him about the calls, the texts, everything. Merlin took her phone in hand and gasped as soon as it touched his hand.

"There is a huge amount of energy here," he said. "There's no doubt a spirit has attached itself to you-or at least your phone."

Emma felt a chill. "My phone is haunted?"

"Not precisely," Merlin murmured, turning the device over in his hand. "Someone wishes to get your attention; wishes for you to help him, but there's something odd here, something I can't quite place."

"What do you mean?"

"The spirit is...indistinct," Merlin said, "hazy and just beyond my reach. I've never experienced anything like this."

Emma waited, her curiosity more than piqued at Merlin's odd reaction to her cell phone.

After a moment, Merlin's eyes widened. "Your friend Graham cleared up the mystery for me."

"What?" Emma asked. "What does Graham say is going on?"

"The reason I can't get a clear read on the spirit attached to your phone-this Killian Jones-is, well, because he's not dead."

Notes:

-So there you have it. For those of you who have wondered how this story could possibly have a happy ending since Killian is dead-this is how. He's not actually dead!

-Up next: With Merlin's help, Emma finds out how this is all possible-and she finds the not-dead Killian Jones.

                                                                            Next Chapter-->

[searchingwardrobes]

Ivory Runs Red: 5/6

First off, massive thanks to the @cssns​, my beta @demisexualemmaswan​, and my artist @cocohook38​. Cocohook created this amazing cover art, and she is working on something else too to go with this story. The rough sketch made my jaw drop, so I can’t wait for ya’ll to see it!

This part  is going to be a little long, but I need to address something that I got multiple comments about. Just bear with me; this is the only way I can think to clear things up. I was really surprised to see that some people were angry at David and Mary Margaret for not doing anything to find Emma and/or "allowing" her relationship with Neal. Others simply expressed things along the lines of "I hope you explain what David and Mary Margaret did about all this." The reason this reaction surprised me so much is because I thought it was clear that they HAD done something. Why would the Golds need to get rid of police files if the Swans never reported Emma missing? Why would issues of the newspaper be missing from the library if Emma's disappearance wasn't reported on? Obviously, David and Mary Margaret did something! As for Neal, they had no idea Emma was seeing him. If you'll recall, in a previous chapter, Emma told Killian she had to sneak out at night to meet Neal. So that wasn't Snowing's fault either. Also, how would any of these characters know what David and Mary Margaret did or didn't do for their daughter? This is almost a hundred years later, and Emma's memories are dulled from being a ghost for so long. The only way I could spell out clearly how Snowing handled their daughter's disappearance would be some sort of convoluted info-dump, and I didn't want to destroy the tone and mood of the story to do that. But just so everyone knows: Yes, Emma's parents were devastated. They did everything in their power to find her, never giving up hope (which is so in character for them!). They died still believing she was either still out there or that crimes against her had gone unpunished. It broke their hearts. The Golds spread rumors that Emma was some kind of slut who ran away with a guy, and the people of Storybrooke overall thought the Swans had gone crazy. So there it is, that's the back story that I just couldn't figure out how to fit in the story, lol.

I'm not mad at the questions, to be clear. I was just surprised by them. I guess I blame the show for ruining these two as parents the last couple of seasons. Maybe that's why everyone jumped on them so fast. I was also honestly worried that ya'll would be upset with me for not addressing the topic, hence this long explanation! No one was rude by any means, so don't go trying to defend me from nonexistent trolls, lol! My feelings have NOT been hurt. I simply wanted to address the questions that were asked and the misplaced anger toward Snowing. (Not anger towards me - but fictional characters!)

Okay, now that I've cleared all THAT up, let's get on with the next chapter, shall we? And I'll go ahead and warn you: this is gonna hurt . . .

Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)

Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @kmomof4​ @xhookswenchx​ @let-it-raines​ @bethacaciakay​ @tiganasummertree​ @shireness-says​ @stahlop​ @scientificapricot​ @spartanguard​ @welllpthisishappening​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kday426​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @lfh1226-linda​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @carpedzem​ @branlovestowrite​ @superchocovian​ @hollyethecurious​ @vvbooklady1256​ @winterbaby89​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @jennjenn615​ @snidgetsafan​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @lassluna​ @distant-rose​ @courtorderedcake​ @winterbythesea​ @thesschesthair​ @killian-whump​ @thisonesatellite​ @batana54​ @it-meant-something​ @xsajx​ @therooksshiningknight​ @gingerchangeling​​

Chapter Five: Run

“You’ve got to tell them what you saw - what you’ve learned,” Killian pleaded. 

Graham shook his head, his curly hair falling in his eyes as he stared at the slender hands he clasped in his. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw sported far more facial hair than it normally did, and Killian didn’t have to ask if he’d slept in the past forty-eight hours. 

“They won’t believe me.”

Killian’s jaw clenched in frustration. “But if I saw Emma, and you saw her, then maybe they’ll believe -”

“That Belle saw a ghost push Mike Gaston off the troll bridge? They’ll believe that? Really?” Graham let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh. “You really are just a naive kid if that’s what you're thinking.”

“But you’re a cop!”

“I’m still only nineteen! They’ll think we’re just over-imaginative teenagers.” Graham paused, reaching up with one hand to trace the curve of Belle’s cheek as she slept in her drug-induced prison. “That will land us in rooms just down the hall with our own IV full of an antipsychotic cocktail. How will I help her then?”

“You’ve fallen in love with her.” It wasn’t a question. 

Graham sighed. “How could I not? And how could he -” He broke off, his blue eyes flashing. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. If I’d been there and saw him hurt her -”

“Shh, I wouldn’t say things like that. Not here.”

Killian’s gaze fell to the bruises around Belle’s neck, and he didn’t blame Graham at all. It terrified him to think what could have happened if Emma hadn’t shown up.

“History repeats itself,” he murmured under his breath. 

*************************************************

Killian had scarcely arrived at the bridge when headlights blinded him. He turned away, blinking, stumbling, refusing to be stopped. 

“Emma! Emma!” he shouted. He tripped and dropped his flashlight. It broke as it hit the ground, rolling to the edge of the bridge. Now all he could see was ebony before him and radiant luminescence behind him. 

His palms scraped against the asphalt as Liam hauled him to his feet. His brother gripped his upper arms so tightly it was almost painful, and he gave him a brief shake. 

“You’ve got to stop this!”

Killian fought him. “I have to see her!”

Liam had always been broader than Killian with an unfair advantage in all their childhood tussles. Even now, Killian was no match for him as he lifted him bodily with one arm and hauled him over to his car. 

“You need help!” Liam literally tossed him into the backseat. 

“I’m not going home!” Killian tried to scramble out, but Liam just shoved him back inside. 

“Good, because I’m not taking you home.”

*******************************************************

“Why won’t you be straight with us, kid?”

Killian glared at the detective with a cynical sneer. The psychiatrist on the cop’s left frowned at Killian’s attitude. The choice of words was cruel considering he was in a literal straightjacket. His vision of the two men was obscured by the long strands of dark hair before his eyes. Haircuts were apparently seen as a luxury on the psych ward. 

“I’ve answered all your questions,” Killian finally told them wearily, “you just don’t like what I had to say.”

“Because we want the truth,” the psychiatrist, Dr. Archie Hopper, said gently. He was clearly playing the part of “good cop.” Or “good doctor.” Whatever.

“I told you the truth.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “Tell that to Mike Gaston.”

The detective’s voice took on a harsh, warning tone. “Mike Gaston was the victim of murder.”

“The victim!” Killian cried, his voice snapping up. “What about the bruises he put on Belle? Or the fact that I nearly died when he tied me to that bridge!”

The detective’s lips curled up in a lewd sneer as he lit a cigarette. “If some horny teenager likes it a bit rough, that’s none of my business.”

Killian fought his bonds, his jaw clenching at the detective’s insinuation. He was as bad as Neal Gold, maybe worse. He had to be pushing fifty at least, and a pot belly strained at his button up shirt. His eyes widened as Killian raged.

“Bothers you though, I see.” He leaned forward. “Nobody blames you for wanting her, kid. Nobody blames you for being jealous. But murder? That’s a different story.”

“I told you I had nothing to do with that!”

The detective glanced at Dr. Hopper, and the soft spoken psychiatrist took over. “Killian, start at the beginning for us. What did Belle say when she called you that night?”

“I’m telling you, she didn’t call me, she didn’t come to my house. I saw her early that afternoon at the library. That was it. Then my brother got a phone call that there had been an accident, and we came to the hospital.”

“You and Belle were at the library together a lot,” Hopper said softly, “what did you two do there?”

Killian rolled his eyes. He hated the patronizing way the man asked the question. “We studied. Did our homework. We were friends.”

The detective snorted again, and Killian wanted to scream. “Drop the act, kid. You really expect us to believe that you spent all that time with her, all that time with a hot chick, and you never fucked her?”

Dr. Hopper recoiled at the foul language, and Killian thought his own jaw might actually break. 

“You’re just as much a misogynistic, narrow-minded, neanderthal as Mike Gaston.”

The detective grinned and slapped Dr. Hopper on the knee. “You were right, shrink, this kid’s smart.” He took another puff of his cigarette as he eyed Killian. “Smart enough to plan an elaborate murder with your knocked-up girlfriend?”

“That’s the most ridiculous - wait - did you say knocked up?”

“Hm,” the detective mused, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his five o’clock shadow. “You didn’t know?”

Killian was horrified when a laugh slipped past his lips. Another bitter laugh followed, then another, until before he knew it, he was shaking with them. He was laughing hysterically while wearing a straightjacket. That thought made him laugh even more, and if he didn’t seem like a lunatic before, he sure as hell did now. 

“What the hell is so funny?” thundered the detective.

Killian’s laughter stopped abruptly and he leveled the man with an intense stare. “History repeating itself. That’s what’s so funny.”

A smile that he knew bordered on manic curled his lips. Yes, history had repeated itself, and this time, Emma Swan had won. 

************************************************************

They didn’t have enough to charge him, or Belle, or anyone else really with Gaston’s murder. It was officially declared an accident, and theoretically, Belle French and Killian Jones were free to move on. 

Killian wouldn’t say it was easy for Belle. She had severe trauma from that terrifying night, and she ended up losing the baby because of it. Nevertheless, she had Dr. Hopper’s patient help, her father’s support, and Graham’s unwavering devotion. Soon, though it would be a long time before she was truly healed, she was able to go home. 

Killian, on the other hand, didn’t really want to go home. For one, he, unlike Belle and Graham, refused to stop talking about Emma - refused to lie and say he made it up. He didn’t fault his friends for it; didn’t take it as a betrayal. He even understood their reasoning when they begged him to do the same and just play along, damn it. He simply couldn’t do it. Emma was too real, too precious. He knew her in a way they never would. He knew the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that go.

The psych ward wasn’t so bad. The drugs numbed him to the point that he sailed on a sea of oblivion half the time. He’d stopped fighting, so there was no more straight jacket, no more bed straps. 

And she came to him. Sometimes the drugs meant he wasn’t lucid enough to really carry on a conversation. On those nights, she curled up next to him on the bed. She ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his cheeks. She pressed kisses to his lips, and sometimes he could respond in kind. 

Other times, though admittedly rare, they would talk. About everything and nothing at all. One night, they talked about their dreams for later, after high school, and suddenly Emma began to weep. 

“I know,” he soothed, brushing her forehead with a kiss, “you fear you can never have that. But maybe we can figure it out. If we somehow get the truth out. About your murder -”

Emma silenced him with a finger to his lips. “That isn’t it, Killian. It’s you. I have no more tomorrows but you can.”

His brow furrowed, and she sighed and soothed the lines away with the pad of her thumb. 

“But not if you keep holding onto me.”

His arms instinctively pulled her closer. “I’ll never let you go.”

She sighed, and sadness filled her eyes. She slipped out of his embrace and rose from the bed. Her skin grew white, her gown floated in an ethereal way at her feet. He frowned and scrambled to a sitting position. 

“I have to say goodbye,” she told him. She said it with an edge of discovery in her voice. Her lips turned up in a soft smile even as a tear slipped down her cheek. 

He shook his head and tried to reach for her, to leave the bed, but he had just enough drugs in his system to make his movements sluggish and ineffectual. 

“I won’t let you see me again.”

“No, Emma, please! I love you!”

“And I love you. That’s why I have to do this.” 

She was already fading away. Killian made a fist and slammed it into his thigh. Tears stung his eyes. 

“Be happy,” she told him, “for me.”

Then she was gone.

[teamhook]

Call me Love :: CSSNS21

Hello. I’m here to share my one-shot for @cssns

I hope you guys like it. Thanks to you all! Art was made by the wonderful @kmomof4, lovely shipmates and my beta amazing @ultraluckycatnd

Summary: Killian Jones gets a gift or curse it depends who is telling the story. He becomes a messenger of  love and after screwing Snow White's match many years later he has to fix it by matching her descendant, a heartbroken Emma Swan. But what happens when instead of matching her, he falls in love with her?

AO3 

FFN

Call me Love

🦢🦢🦢

Emma Swan was alone once more. The beautiful man that made her feel like a part of something was now gone. She had always had bad luck. No family or home to call her own. Her hope of a happy ending had been yanked from her grasp again. With tearful eyes, she said goodbye to the man she was supposed to marry and grow old with. There was no happy ending in the cards for her.

Emma hadn't fallen head over heels in love with Graham right away. He was the Sheriff of the small town of Storybrooke and she had been on the hunt for a scumbag. They got to know each other and before long she was working from the little town. Her job had allowed her to work from home. She did mostly research for her coworkers since she always tracked down her bounty.

Her beloved Graham had never said he wanted to quit her job and be a housewife. He had however suggested for her to take a deputy job at the Sheriff's station but she had said no right away with the excuse they would kill each other if they had to work and live together.

Now she wishes she would have taken him up on the offer. She would have had more time with him then.

☠☠☠

Killian Jones still remembers the day that changed his life. Sure, he had lived through more days than was natural and had had many life-changing experiences, but this one had invaded his life in a way he never thought possible. How was he supposed to know he was not dealing with an ordinary fairy?

He replayed the meeting in his mind.

"You should be helping me find my "happy ending" or something else equally as precious. Isn't that the fairy way.?

"It would be if I was a fairy." She morphed into a breathtakingly beautiful woman. The kind that left men speechless, including him. "Captain, I have an offer for you. I could help you get your heart's true desire, but in order to do that, I need to bestow a gift to you."

She had called it a gift, but to him it was a curse. He had mockingly asked her what he should call her and she replied coolly, " It doesn't matter the name you know me by; whether it's as Venus or Aphrodite that is not important. The only thing that matters is if you are foolish enough to deny me the consequences would be horrible for your health. But you could call me Aphrodite since that is the deity you are more comfortable with ."

Aphrodite had been the name she had used once she introduced herself. One warning is all she gave him: never allow an arrow to hit him, or he will be doomed to unrequited love.

☠☠☠

His life had consisted of heartbreak after heartbreak. His mum had died when he was young. His father had abandoned him and his elder brother Liam to a life of servitude. Liam, his beloved brother, died far too soon, leaving him alone and without his moral compass. He succumbed to his selfish desires: women, rum, and whatever his depraved heart asked for. Then he met his Milah. Milah had become the center of his life. The only thing they never considered was the desperation her jilted husband would feel, therefore making an unexpected exchange to become the epitome of darkness. A husband who would eventually catch up with them and require repayment for their selfish need to be together, ignoring the fact that there were broken vows and a child left behind without a mother.

Yes, Killian Jones had lived a long, unnatural life. He now stood in front of his new home. An apartment complex with a very special neighbor. Emma Swan was the name on the mailbox. He was told this one was special and he needed to focus on it, to make sure it was a successful match no matter what it took. He looked at his reflection on the glass door. His modern clothes made him look younger than he truly was. The black skinny jeans were tight, but not as form-fitting as his old leathers. The shirt was blue to match his eyes. She had told him that this assignment would help him redeem himself for the Snow White failure.

He walked to the elevator and pressed the button. He was still amazed by the technology in the world now. His mind drifted to simpler times, when he was a young boy. There was no belief in mythical creatures; mermaids, krakens, gods, faraway lands where no one ages, but now he knew the reality. They were as real as a 200-year-old pirate playing matchmaking for a goddess with a lack of a sense of humor.

He remembered his first assignment. A young girl with raven hair, big green eyes, and skin as white as snow. She had been a beautiful lass. He had paired her with a prince. To be honest, he cared little for her happiness. She was a royal, and frankly, he hated royalty. The match had ended in disaster. He was forced to see his handy work up close, the terrible way things had ended. The prince had decided to marry the match his father had chosen, leaving a broken-hearted young girl pregnant who had later been sent away to hide her indiscretion of falling for the man's lies. Killian's punishment for ruining a bloodline had been simple: take the Jolly Roger away from him. His ship was now a miniature held in the hands of a goddess, and he wouldn’t get it back until he could make amends. He hoped it was true. He knew this woman was special, and he was warned that mistakes would not be tolerated.

He had been successful at his duty. Throughout history and time, he had made good matches. He remembers them well. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, Marie and Pierre Curie, Robert Capa and Gerda Taro. He had also paired Hollywood golden couple Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell, Tom Hanks, and Rita Wilson both had been second chances at love. One of the most recent pairings was a young teacher and an aspiring actor. Killian knew that he had done a good job and although his first pair had been a failure the rest had been true loves.

He longed for the sea. His ship was his home for so long and now he had lost it as well. He had made deals with deities before. One that still haunted him was taking Ursula's voice on an arrangement with her father, Poseidon the Sea King. She had put so much trust in a scoundrel like him. He delivered her sweet melodic voice to her father in a shell, trapped for no one to ever hear again unless she agreed to use it to sink ships. He missed combat. The sound of blades colliding. The smell of gunpowder mixed with the salty sea spray. He would always be a pirate. His training in weaponry preexisted his life as a pirate, and it was vast and he yearned to wipe the enemy's blood off his blade. A pirate's life is forever; although he knew that life was no longer an option, he still craved it.

He looked down to where his hook used to be. His hook had worked perfectly with the bow and arrow he used to spark love between the couples he “helped.” The appendage had been a part of him for a long time, but the times were so different now. The bow and arrow were also replaced; she enchanted his beloved brother’s ring to use in its place for his duties. He was now to use the ring to travel, control time, or as the spark. The hook had also been deemed too old-fashioned to be believable for his assignment, and the hand he was given felt foreign to him. He had learned a lesson to never question the goddess, though. It had been trial and error in the beginning. He hated being under her control. He beamed from place to place as he was sent to spark love between couples all over the world and time. He maintained his youthful looks, and his charm had helped him ease his way into his charge's lives.

☠☠☠

Killian found that he enjoyed the little town of Storybrooke. The seaside location lessened his thirst for the sea, and it allowed Killian to keep an eye on Emma Swan from afar. He would introduce himself soon enough. They were neighbors for a reason. He still hadn’t decided if he should ask for a cup of sugar or not. He cringed at the unoriginality of the rouse. Alright, he thought to himself, tomorrow I will introduce myself to her.

🦢🦢🦢

On the other side of the wall, Emma curled into a ball as she watched home movies of Graham and herself on their first anniversary party with their closest friends. She still wore the laces of his favorite boots as a reminder of what she had lost, and what she would never have again. He had been gone for almost a year, and time was failing to mend her heart.

She wondered how she could still function when her heart was no longer complete. She woke up in the morning, dressed, and fed herself just enough to survive because she knew he would chastise her for letting the pain take her life force away. She hated the pity in the eyes of her friends, but that was her life now. She couldn't lose her routine too. She was a shell of a human. Work was especially hard seeing Graham's empty desk. They hadn't replaced him yet because the town was so small and there was hardly any crime. Her best friend Ruby had tried to cheer her up on many occasions, but who wants to be a third wheel?

Emma was looking over her mail. Yeah, she still got some mail as crazy and old-fashioned as that was during this time. She picked up the hunting magazines and added them to the growing pile. She had yet to rid herself of his clothes and personal belongings. He was like her, he had no family; that was what had inspired their bond. Robin, Graham’s best friend, had encouraged her to go to a support group to help her get back to normal, but she didn't like meeting people before and now much less. She didn’t need a bunch of strangers telling her that time would heal her broken heart.

🦢☠🦢☠

Killian Jones had always used his looks to get things done and his current status hadn't changed that. He took great care of his appearance and health. He decided to take a run, and on his return, he would find a way to meet his neighbor.

While waiting for the elevator after he finished his run, he wiped sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his shirt, giving a nice view of the results of his hard work. He had failed to notice the two women eyeing him. The blonde looked away, but the brunette stared approvingly while trying to get the other woman's attention back to the display.

He felt a strange prick on his heart as he heard some whispers from behind him and turned to meet the loveliest green eyes he had ever seen. He knew who she was, but he had not realized how attractive she truly was. Seeing her from afar hadn't done any justice to her beauty. The wounded look in her eyes made his heart ache. He smiled as he scratched behind his ear.

“Hello, I’m your new neighbor, Killian Jones,” he said as his eyes met Emma’s, extending his hand.

The pretty brunette nudged the other woman who was glaring at him with thin lined lips. “Hi, I’m Ruby Lucas, and this is Emma Swan. Please forgive her rude manners, she's not feeling well. Oh, wait, are you the one that took over Mr. Miner’s lease?”

Emma hissed, shaking her head and begrudgingly extending her hand to take his. "Emma Swan, apartment 215."

There was a spark between them as soon as their fingers touched to shake hands.

Killian visibly flinched, while Emma chose to ignore it. They released each other's hand.

Ruby looked between the two and a small smile formed on her face. "It was nice meeting you. I hope you are not as grumpy as Leroy was."

Killian smiled. "I assure you I am not," he said as the elevator opened and he waved to them to enter with a bow.

Ruby giggled as she entered, while Emma rolled her eyes. He entered after them, opting to stay in front of them.

"Mr. Jones, you are already making a better impression than Leroy. You are a true gentleman," Ruby said, grinning.

"I'm always a gentleman when it comes to lovely ladies such as yourselves," Killian replied as he pressed the floor button and the elevator door closed.

Emma stayed silent in thought as Ruby tried to chit chat with the neighbor. He was a good-looking man, she was not blind, but she also knew that this could spell trouble for her. Ruby would inevitably tell their friends of the hot neighbor. She would just keep her distance from him at all costs.

The elevator dinged and he allowed them to exit first before following behind them.

Emma and Ruby reached her apartment. As they entered the apartment, Ruby turned to him, grinning. "It was nice meeting you. Hope to see more of you, right Emma?"

Emma grimaced. "Yes, that would be lovely."

Killian nodded and entered his apartment. This was not the way he wanted to meet her. He had it planned out and now it was ruined. How was he going to gain her trust enough to let him befriend her? He was going to have to adapt and come up with a new strategy.

As soon as they entered Emma's apartment, Ruby unleashed her thoughts.

"Ems, your new neighbor is so hot!!" she sighed.

"I'm sure Victor would love to hear you talking like that." Emma shook her head.

"Disapprove all you want Emma, but you didn't say I was wrong. Ems, there's nothing wrong with thinking the man is good looking." She gave Emma a sweet smile.

Emma ignored her as she walked into her kitchen to find a glass. "Do you want something to drink, or are you not done thirsting over my new neighbor?"

"Ems, I can appreciate a good-looking man. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. You can too. There's nothing wrong at all. Emma, you are not the one that died," Ruby said and as the words escaped her lips, she knew she had hurt her best friend instead of helping her.

Emma looked away as the tears filled her eyes. "Obviously, you are no true friend of mine or Graham's. You should leave," Emma said as she walked away from Ruby.

Ruby stared at the back of her friend's head, unable to form any words to alleviate the situation. "Emma, I'm--"

Emma turned and glared at her friend. "I thought I made myself clear. I think you should go and never come back. It's obvious you never truly cared for me or about the man I love."

☠☠☠

After meeting Emma Swan, Killian had a feeling things weren't going to be easy. It was clear her heart was broken. How was he to convince her it was time to move on? He thought the friend would help his cause, but now that it was obvious that wasn’t an option, he wondered how he should approach the situation. His other charges were more open to his true reason for being there. There was a time when the possibility of magic was plausible, but now she might have him locked away and throw away the key. Sure, that wouldn't contain him, but he was here for her.

He decided to find her match first and then have the man approach her. He was a perceptive man and knew she would have mile-high walls; part of him felt sorry for the sod that would have to climb them. Once upon a time in a different life, he would have been eager to rise to the challenge and be the one to break through. The pirate in him knew she was a treasure that should be protected and valued, rather than being plundered by some random bloke. He was not blind; she was beautiful, and the pain behind her eyes made her even more appealing as he found her to be a kindred spirit.

🦢🦢🦢

The day after her fight with Ruby, Emma decided to go for a walk to Storybrooke's Heritage Park. She sat down on their bench near the pond. She used to come here with Graham, and he would put his arm around her as they would watch the ducks swim in the water. It was such a peaceful place.

The only bad thing about it was that the park attracted a lot of people when all she wanted was solitude. She should be able to find it at home, but the memory of Graham was all over the place. Her always hopeful friend Mary Margaret had told her that someday the memories would soothe her instead of making her cry at the loss. Perhaps someday that would happen, but today was not that day.

She lost herself in watching the people running or just enjoying a nice brisk walk with a loved one. Soon, Emma recognized a familiar dark-haired man from a mile away as he was quickly approaching her spot. He seemed to enjoy running. She wondered if he was running away from someone at the intensity with which his feet pounded on the asphalt floor.

Yes, she had noticed his good looks, but that only made her feel guilty. Snapping at Ruby had been an instinct to calm her thoughts. She shouldn't be having thoughts about anyone. Ruby and Mary Margaret only wanted her to be happy. She knew this, but she feared what would happen if she opened her heart once more only to lose someone else. Losing Graham hurt beyond words, and she never wanted to experience that feeling ever again.

She noticed he slowed down as he saw her. He gave her a charming smile as he got closer, his hand scratching behind his ear and taming wet hair into place. She felt her body tense in reaction to his closeness. She knew it was fear, but she had yet to find out of what. In reality, she didn't want to find out. She got up to leave.

"Ms. Swan, please don't leave on my account. I just wanted to wish you a good day," he said with a small smile on his lips.

She looked at him and wanted to scream because he was just being nice. He had no idea of her argument with Ruby over him. It was a nice gesture, and she knew how it felt to be in a new place. She smiled back and offered, "Good day to you too, Mr. Jones." That's the least she could do.

His answering smile brightened both his face and her heart.

🦢☠🦢☠

It became a routine for them. Killian ran by Emma in her spot and shared a smile and friendly nod. The interactions had become friendly enough between them at the apartment building too. The bad thing was that things weren't progressing as fast as he and his boss would like. He tried to explain that Emma was not ready.

Little by little, though, he noticed small cracks in her walls.

☠☠☠

Killian had tried a discreet approach at first. His first choice was a man named Keith Nottingham. Killian had orchestrated a meet between Emma and the man during her daily walk to her spot at the park. Sadly, the man had been dismissed so fast, it made Killian’s head spin by the scowl on the blonde's face. A few more failed attempts ended the same way.

Killian was now a very frustrated man because it didn't matter what meet-cute scenario he thought of, the lass was not having it. He was a patient man but he knew he was running out of time. There was a constant ringing in his ears that only meant he was failing miserably.

Killian had met a gentleman that lived across the street and he thought he might be a good match. Unfortunately, he had to go out of town for a few days.

🦢☠🦢☠

On one of his daily runs, Killian's ears started ringing and escalated to screeching. He dropped to his knees in agony. He could hear the names of his attempted failed matches for Emma being listed to him. A warning he knew, regarding the consequences of his continued failings. His hands went to his ears in an attempt to quiet the noise he knew wouldn't stop. Suddenly he felt a warm hand on top of his own quieting the white noise. He opened his eyes attempting to focus on his savior's face.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked as she inspected him. Her eyes roamed his face for confirmation he was feeling okay when all he could do was nod in response.

He cleared his throat as he finally got up to his feet and she mirrored his actions.

"Maybe you should see a doctor about that. It didn't look pleasant," Emma said with concern on her face.

Killian smiled. "Ah, it's not a new affliction. I've had it for a long time, but never this badly, I admit."

"Oh, well, you should still have it checked out. If it has worsened, you should know why," Emma said. "Ruby's boyfriend, Victor Whale, is the doctor on call in the ER."

"I will, but I don't think it's an emergency. Thank you for your concern."

“What are neighbors for?”

They stood in silence for a second before they parted ways.

🦢🦢🦢

Emma had been lost in thought the rest of the day. She had an inexplicable need to take care of her neighbor which made no sense. Okay, she was not an asshole so yes, she could care for him, right? It was perfectly natural to want to soothe his pain. It was because she never pushed Graham to see a doctor about his heart, and now he was gone because she didn't push it. She had on several occasions wanted to knock on his door to see if he had gone to the doctor, but she chickened out each time.

Emma had called her friend Mary Margaret to try to distract herself. For a second she thought about calling Ruby too, but she was still hurt from her words and she didn't need her to tell her how hot her neighbor is. Well, she was going to have to fend off questions from Mary Margaret about the fight, but she needed her friend to keep her from knocking on her neighbor's door because she was so concerned about him she couldn't think of anything else.

A few hours later, Emma opened the door for Mary Margaret to come inside but her friend hesitated. Emma quirked an eyebrow. Mary Margaret pulled Ruby into view.

"I told you she didn't want to see me," Ruby hissed.

Mary Margaret put on her teacher's voice. "I'm tired of you two fighting. Emma, you know she didn't mean it. We all loved Graham, but we also want you to be happy. You can’t blame us for that." With Mary Margaret's pleading and Ruby's guilt-ridden face, Emma knows they both care for her so how can she begrudge them? That's when she decides to let them both in.

Emma led them to the living room to sit down and talk. Mary Margaret shared some funny moments about her charming husband. They laughed goodhearedly about his antics with their dog, Wilby.

She would check on her neighbor the next day. That would be the neighborly thing to do, right?

☠☠☠

Killian woke up the next day with a smile on his face. He looked at the time, 8:15 A.M. He got up and dressed to go for his daily run. Perhaps he would see his neighbor at the park. He noticed she loved to sit on the bench across from the pond.

Sure enough, he spotted her sitting on her bench. He slowed down so he could say hello to her. He noticed another man watching her as well, though, slowly approaching her. Killian rubbed the stone on his ring to activate the spark and then suddenly there was a flock of swans attacking him from all sides, not letting up until everything went black.

☠☠☠

Killian woke up with a smile on his face. He got up and dressed to go for his daily run. Perhaps he would see his neighbor at the park. He noticed she loved to sit on the bench across from the pond.

Sure enough he spotted her sitting on her bench. He slowed down so he could say hello to her. A nice looking man approached Emma with a smile on his face. Killian rubbed the stone on his ring to activate the spark, but then suddenly an unknown man approached him and shot him in the heart. His eyes turned to Emma's location to watch her with the stranger until everything went black.

☠☠☠

Killian woke up and stretched in bed. He felt a little stiff. He got ready for his daily run. Perhaps today... he paused for a second. Somehow it felt like deja vu, but he shook his head. Of course it felt like he was repeating the day. He had been doing the same thing for a while now. Wake up, go for a run. Try and match Emma only to fail and then there was another day. That was his routine. He sighed and got up. Once he was finished getting ready, he waited for the elevator. He couldn't help but notice Emma was talking amicably to a man. He tried not to make it obvious he was paying too close attention. He rubbed the ring. The elevator door opened and he took a step forward, only to fall. Then all he could see was darkness.

☠☠☠

Killian had woken up startled. He had felt like he had fallen a thousand leagues into darkness. He shook his head; something was amiss.

He grabbed his things and headed for the shower. The water was running at just the right temperature, so he undressed and jumped into the waterfall. He sighed. The water felt bloody amazing. He ran his hands over his hair and noticed he was wearing his ring. He cursed and while removing it he accidentally rubbed the stone on his ring and slipped and fell into the dark.

🦢☠🦢☠

Killian woke up and hesitantly got out of bed. Today he decided to skip his run. There was something off, so he would do the opposite.

The bell rang as he entered Granny’s Diner and walked to the last table. A blonde waitress quickly spotted him and came to take his order. His order was unlike his normal healthy eating. He ordered eggs, sausage, and hash. A tall glass of water to wash it down. He was eating his food when the ringing caused him to glance up from his food to see who had arrived. His eyes met Emma's and she smiled briefly his way.

For a second, he forgot he had a job to do and enjoyed the thrill of having a lovely lass pay attention to him. Then he remembered he had a job to do that didn’t allow him the time to fancy a lass, much less this one. He was supposed to match her with her True Love, not a dalliance. He was supposed to find the right man but if he was honest, the men available weren't suitable for an amazing woman like her. He had done his due diligence in his research and knew that any man that managed to win her heart would be a lucky man.

Emma noticed her handsome neighbor enjoying his meal alone. She wondered if he was as lonely as she was. It was too soon to be thinking about that, wasn't it?

🦢☠🦢☠

Arthur King

Killian had found a gentleman that he thought might be a good match for Emma. Arthur King was his name. Killian wasn't thrilled, but he wasn’t ready to find out the reason behind his hesitation to find her a match; all that mattered was if he could make Emma happy. Killian had made friends with the man. He lived in the apartment building across the street. They had made small talk while on a run. He was single and was interested in finding a mate. All that was left was the introduction. Killian wanted to think of a romantic encounter.

Killian was on his way to meet up with Arthur. He plastered a fake smile on his face as he looked both ways on the empty street to cross. He noticed Arthur was about to reach Granny’s door and he could also see the blonde beauty about to exit the diner. Killian rubbed his ring as Emma opened the door and Arthur arrived. Not expecting the door to be opened as quickly as it had been, Emma’s coffee flew onto Arthur’s brand new suit. Killian was mid street, yet could hear the expletives that left Arthur’s mouth that should never be directed to a lady. The last thing Killian Jones saw before the car hit him were the pair swearing everlasting hate between them. After the impact, the car disappeared from sight.

🦢☠🦢☠

Jefferson Hatter

Killian met a kind, recently widowed single father during one of his trips to the park. The man had taken his daughter to see the swans swimming in the pond. He was the perfect choice, wasn’t he? He had a recent loss and that would be a good thing to bond over. Lost loves.

Killian waited for Emma to arrive. As she got closer, she smiled his way and his heart fluttered for a second, but she wasn’t meant for him. Villains don’t get happy endings. He then spotted Jefferson approaching them with a smile but Emma’s eyes were still on him, not her match. Killian couldn’t risk a missed connection, so he rubbed the ring’s stone, only for a cloaked figure to appear out of nowhere to stab him with a sharp twisted blade. As his body fell to the ground, Emma ran to his side with tear filled eyes.

🦢☠🦢☠

Killian woke up startled. His hand went straight to his heart. He growled in frustration that the goddess was having fun at his expense. Was it possible it was a very realistic dream?

He got up from bed and started to get ready for the day. Later that morning, he had wandered into a kind old man's woodshop. He was perusing through the lovely wooden sculptures when the man's son approached him to ask if he needed any help. The man's son's name was August. He seemed nice and it was clear he cared deeply for his father. Good quality in a mate , Killian thought.

Killian's thoughts drifted to Emma. In his dream she seemed concerned about him. She had shed tears for him and part of him wished it was real. He wouldn't care about dying a million times if it meant she cared for him.

He stopped in his tracks at the thought of whether she cared for him. Did that mean he made her? Did Cupid's arrow pierce her heart? Did she feel for him? He looked at the ring with fear. Had he cursed them to a life of unrequited love? He hadn't wanted to admit that he felt jealousy at the thought of her finding love with anyone else. What was he supposed to do? His job was clear, he had to help her find love, but if she had feelings for him, could he still match her? Bloody hell, what was he supposed to do? He knew that Aphrodite would not tolerate another mistake. She was frustrated with his progress and had warned him of the importance of this match. His punishment would never end. Perhaps he was worrying over nothing since it was a dream. It had to have been simply a dream

He would find a way to match Emma and August Booth. She would have a happy ending and he would disappear from her life.

🦢🦢🦢

Emma woke up breathing hard with unshed tears in her eyes. The dream had been so real, but what surprised her the most was the ache in her heart at the thought of a life without her neighbor. How could have he come to hold a place in her heart? They had been cordial at most, but there was something about him she couldn't help but think that made him a kindred spirit. They understood each other without even saying words.

🦢☠🦢☠

The goddess sighed as she considered her next step. She remembered the day she appeared to the pirate captain. Normally she would avoid showing herself to mortals, but she knew there was more to the man than vengeance. His heart had a great capacity for love and she wanted to remind him of the joys of love. The problem was that he was a stubborn man and still couldn't see the gift she had given him. A chance of love. The fool had kept trying to match the poor girl with the wrong men and she admits she had some fun with the punishment of the reset of the day with a little death, but she was quickly losing her patience. The things she did for love.

🦢☠🦢☠

August Booth

Killian had placed a special order for a beautiful wooden miniature replica of his beloved Jolly Roger. Sadly, the real thing was held hostage as an incentive and reminder to not get on the wrong side of the goddess. He flinched at the thought. He had arranged for the delivery to be done when he knew Emma would be at the park, sitting in her spot.

He looked at his watch and decided it was time to leave. He made his way to the park and the closer he got, the more he wanted to turn back and not go through with the match. His heartbeat increased at the realization he had feelings for Emma and that today he would make sure she would fall in love with the woodworker.

Killian's face paled as he spotted Emma sitting on her bench. She looked beautiful with her golden hair up in a ponytail and she was wearing some dark jeans with her red leather jacket. He knew it was the armor to her heart, but today Killian Jones would ensure her walls came crumbling down. The only problem was that someone else would be the benefactor of his work.

Emma saw Killian approaching and without thought, she offered him her brightest, inviting smile.

He smiled back with genuine affection.

She waved him to join her.

Killian sat down next to her. "Hello, Swan. Lovely day isn't it?"

Emma took a deep breath. "Yes, it is."

They stared at the family of swans swimming in the pond.

"Have you ever been in love?" Emma asked without her eyes straying from the small winged family.

Killian turned his attention to Emma. His head tilted as he thought of her question. "Aye, I was in love once. A long time ago."

Emma nodded slightly. "I never thought I would be able to---"

"Mr. Jones." A strange man's voice interrupted her confession.

Killian turned to the source of the interruption. It was time. He discreetly rubbed the ring's stone.

With a sudden force, Killian was torn from his seat next to Emma onto the pond as he struggled to escape.

Emma jumped to her feet to rush to his side.

She tried to get him out of the water, but wasn't able to.

An invisible force kept him underwater until his fight ended.

Emma was finally able to pull him out of the pond as she tried to bring him back to life. She whispered in his ear, "Please come back to me. I can't lose you, too." She slowly lowered her lips to his and kissed him. A bright blinding light exploded from between them. Killian's eyes opened to meet her tearful gaze.

"I never thought I could let go of my previous love, until I met you," she said as she held him close to her.

Killian blinked as he realized what had just occurred, then his eyes found the goddess sitting on the bench with a wide knowing smile. "Captain, I believe you have fulfilled our agreement. You found Ms. Swan's true love. You will find your beloved ship at the harbor floating proudly. Remember, love is stronger than vengeance." The stone in his ring started glowing bright for a moment and then became a simple precious gem.

The goddess disappeared as she blew a kiss in their direction.

Killian couldn't believe his luck. He was out of his " deal " and was lucky enough to find true love.

Killian turned to Emma and said, "Love, you're my happy ending." A wide smile broke on his face.

Emma smiled as her hand lovingly caressed Killian's stubbled cheek as she replied, "and you're my happy beginning."

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