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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

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Nowhere to Run by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Or on FF

Tagging: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx

Chapter 8: The Plan

Emma woke as the sunlight reached her face. She snuggled down into her blankets, enjoying the warmth they provided to her. The blankets were plush and soft against her skin, something she did not have the luxury of having the last ten years. Henry and Emma had been afforded a single woolen blanket that they shared on their old mattress in the basement or whatever room he would trap them in for the moment. Many times, in the winter, they had huddled together using her body to keep her son warm.

Looking over she watched with gratitude as Henry was curled into the comforter, Rogers nuzzling against his chest, a smile on the boy’s face.

She heard a noise echoing through the house, the clang of metal in the distance. She sat up, yawning before stretching her feet to the floor and wandering into the bathroom. She found a brush in the bottom drawer, one she recognized as hers, and ran the bristles through her hair. Killian had left two new toothbrushes on the sink for her and Henry.

When she finished getting ready, she slipped quietly out of the room, Rogers following at her heels. She found Killian in the kitchen, hunched over the stove while he stirred a pan of scrambled eggs. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants, and nothing else. Emma stood in the door frame, admiring the man in front of her, she had forgotten what it was like to desire someone.

She had determined that even ten years later, he was still the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. His body had changed in the years since she had been with him, but he had stayed in excellent shape, his back was firm and taut, even though she could tell he had gained weight since they were together, but it made him even more attractive to her. By the time she realized her gaze was lingering over his firm backside, Rogers betrayed her by drawing his attention toward her.

“Morning, Emma. Hope I didn’t wake you. I thought you and Henry might want some breakfast before we met with David.”

He turned, leaning against the stove, crossing his arms in front of his chest. She mentally reminded herself to keep her eyes on his face, not to trail down his body or spend time wondering if he still went commando when wearing sweatpants.

“Emma?”

She flinched, realizing she had been stuck in her head, staring at him. “Sorry, still sleepy.” She laughed. “Um, breakfast sounds great. I’ll get Henry up.”

She retreated quickly to the bedroom, waking her son to ensure they had time to eat and make it to the station before 8am.

By the time they pulled up to the station, they were ten minutes late, and had missed multiple calls from David who was clearly concerned about Killian making good on his promise to return Emma first thing in the morning.

“Sorry, I’m not used to getting a kid out the door in enough time to get across town.” Killian replied honestly as Robin glared at him as soon as they reached his desk.

“Hello again, Emma.” Robin smiled, looking over at Killian with concern. “Captain has a guest in his office, he wants to see you both. I can watch Master Henry.”

Emma followed Killian nervously through the building toward the Captain’s office. The blinds were closed, and they knocked before entering the room. When Emma stepped inside, she recognized the woman sitting across from David at his desk. She had met her twice in the hospital after more than one brutal attack she had received from Neal.

“Jones, Emma. This is Mary Margaret; she works over at Harbor View Medical Center.”

The woman looked up and stared at Emma. “I remember you.” She said softly.

“I remember you too, Emma. I’m so happy to finally see you again.” The woman stood from her seat.

“Emma, we would like to be able to use your hospital records as evidence.” David declared.

“I didn’t use my real name.” She said with a frown.

“I actually flagged them after trying to report your injuries, I figured it wasn’t your real name and you were always gone before I could alert security, but I hoped that one day I would see you again. Your injuries were especially memorable, and no one should have to continue to live with that.”

Emma glanced at Killian nervously, swallowing before speaking. “Can I…can I talk to you privately?”

Mary Margaret looked at David, and he nodded, “We’ll just be outside. Take your time.”

Killian lightly grazed her shoulder and she turned toward him with a nod, offering him a shy smile before he followed David out the door.

“How are you doing, Emma?” The woman asked taking a seat and offering her a chair beside her.

“I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for me in the past. I know you tried to help, and I wasn’t very cooperative.”

“Emma, you did what you had to do to survive. No one faults you for that.”

“I had to protect my son. Neal never let him come with me to the hospital. He always kept us separate so that I wouldn’t do anything.”

“That must have been terrifying.” She said softly, reaching out to take her hand. “How are you coping with being away from him?”

“I’m…” She sighed, guilt overcoming her as she turned her eyes to the floor. “I feel like I’ve done something wrong. By leaving him. How fucked up is that?”

“Emma, you were with this man for ten years. He conditioned you to be afraid of him, to want to please him. It’s natural to be scared or feel that you’ve disappointed him in some way.”

“How long am I going to be like this?”

“I can’t answer that unfortunately, I can recommend you a good therapist. Dr. Hopper is the best around.”

“Therapists are for weak people.” She grunted.

“Therapy is to help you talk about how you’re feeling and the way those feelings cause you to interact with others. It will help you resolve what happened to you. It doesn’t make you weak. You are a very strong woman to have withstood the violence and emotional abuse you suffered.”

“Will I always be afraid of being close to another person?”

“How do you mean?”

“Killian, he’s my…my husband.” The woman looked confused for a moment before the realization of her words were met with understanding.

“I’m sorry, Captain Nolan didn’t tell me you were married.”

“It was complicated.” She said with a light snort. “But now, every time he touches me, I flinch.”

“It’s going to take time for you to react normally. The important part is for you to know that you are in a safe environment. He’ll need to be patient, take things slow. Try the little things until you feel like you are ready to move to the next thing. Start with something small, like holding his hand, or a hug. It may be easier if you initiate contact with others for a while, until you get used to someone else showing you affection. But there is no right or wrong way to heal, Emma. Neal broke your self-esteem, took away your ability to trust and violated your will to choose, only you can take back what he stole from you.”

She smiled at her, looking down at her hands, feeling comforted by another person.

“I’ll leave Dr. Hopper’s card with David.”

“Thank you for talking to me. I don’t know what to say to Captain Nolan or Killian.”

“They both seem to care a great deal about you, I have a feeling they will let you take all the time you need to come to them.” She paused. “How is Henry handling things?”

“I’m not sure. He doesn’t trust a lot of people. He seems to like Killian, but I know this isn’t easy on him.”

“Dr. Hopper sees kids too; it might be a good idea for both of you to have someone else to talk to.”

“Thank you, I will look into it.”

She was happy to have had the opportunity to speak to the woman. Not that she felt better, it was just nice to know that what she was experiencing was normal behavior. Emma laughed to herself, it wasn’t like anything going on around her was normal.

When they stepped out of the room, David and Killian were huddled in the corner with Robin. A man and woman, she thought were named Belle and Will who had been their back up the night they got Henry out of the house was sitting with her son, who was currently laughing loudly at something the man had said to them.

Neal’s picture was displayed on the wall at the back of the room, her own photo was below it, she cringed when she realized that it pointed toward Officer Perry. She made her way to the men in the corner, taking note of the way that Killian stared at her with concern in his eyes as she approached.

“So, what’s the plan?” She said shyly as she approached.

David turned around, “Ah you’re done, let me see Mary Margaret out, Killian and Robin can fill you in.”

“We’re gonna have you call Neal from a phone in the building, tell him that you got picked up while you were shopping. Just tell him that the officer told you they have Henry. It’s going to be really important for him to believe you are desperate to get him back.”

Emma nodded. “Ok, he’ll believe all that, he’s not exactly smart. But how is that going to get him to you?”

Robin pointed at the map on the wall. “We want you to tell him to pick you up on the docks, here.” He said as he pointed toward the map. “Will he come get you? Or will he expect you to come to him?”

“I’ll tell him I need him, that always gets him to do what I want.”

Killian’s jaw tensed beside her but he nodded his head. “Ok then we take you to the docks. He shows up, we take him down.”

David walked up behind them. “And she needs to wear a wire, we want to get him to talk about the bank job. Get him to say that he killed Officer Perry.”

“No way, too dangerous, he’s not an idiot. He’ll check her for a wire.” Killian argued.

“He’s right, Neal doesn’t trust anyone and if he knows I’ve been with the cops for a whole day without contacting him, he’ll suspect something.” She added.

“That’s the conditions. She wears a wire, or they want her back in lock up.”

“That’s a fucking death sentence.” Killian screamed and she jumped. “There is no way we do this. I’m not sending her out there so he can fucking kill her.”

“We’ll be safe, he won’t find the wire. I get that this is risky, so it’s Emma’s call.” David looked up at her apologetically.

She turned toward Killian, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. “If we don’t get Neal off the streets, he’s a danger to all of us. He won’t stop until he’s killed you, me, and Henry. I have to protect him.”

“Emma…” He choked out, his thumb caressing the top of her knuckles.

“I can do this, and I know you’ll be there to back me up.”

He ran his hand through his hair, an exasperated groan leaving his throat. “Fine, but if things go wrong, I’m putting a bullet in his head.”

“Don’t make me pull you off this, Jones. I need you thinking straight.” David warned.

“He’ll be fine.” Robin added, stepping up to tap him on the shoulder and sending him a warning glance.

“Ok let’s make the call.”

Emma felt her nerves rising as they dialed the phone, Killian listening on another line from his desk.

“Hello?”

“Neal, it’s Emma.”

“Where the fuck have you been, bitch?” He growled into the receiver.

“I got picked up from the grocery store, some dumb cop recognized my face from the robbery footage they’ve been blasting all over the tv.” Her heart was pounding in her chest. “Neal, they took Henry.”

“Who has Henry?”

“The cops, when they arrested me they told me they have him, how did that happen, you said he would be safe at the house.”

“Where is he?”

“They didn’t tell me, they just released me.”

“What do you mean they released you?”

“The video isn’t clear, they don’t have the gun, I told you I dumped it.”

“That’s my good girl.” He cooed and Emma wretched, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she recognized the look of anger shading Killian’s face from the desk on the other side of the room.

“I need you to come get me, I’m heading out of here right away, you told me to never stay near a station, so I’m going to the dock, Pier 50 where all that construction is going on.”

“Ok give me a couple hours. I want to make sure you weren’t followed. If you see any signs of trouble, you call me back ok? We’ll get Henry back. Everything will turn out exactly how it’s supposed to be, you’ll see sweetheart.”

“Ok I’ll see you then.”

“Emma…” She could hear the warning in the throaty growl, she tried to ignore it. “Baby I want to hear you say it.”

She looked up nervously, her face red with anger. Not here, not now. “I’ll say it when I see you.”

“Goddamn Emma, say it.”

She flinched as he raised his voice. “I love you.” She said in a hoarse whisper. Tears sliding down her cheek as the phone left her ear. She could barely hear his voice as she put the phone on the receiver, the words that made her feel dirty, worthless, and terrified.

“I love you too, baby.”

She dropped down into the chair behind her, tears falling slowly into her lap. “Mom, it’s gonna be ok.”

She reached out and pulled Henry into her lap, hugging him for dear life. She needed Neal to pay for everything he had done to them.

“You did good, Emma.” Killian’s voice was soft as he approached her. “Let’s get you ready.”

Henry looked up at her. “You can do this Mom. I believe in you.”

She stood and walked with the men toward the Captain’s office to set her up with a wire. Once the door closed David approached her, holding the wire in his hands.

“Cap, perhaps we should have Belle do this?” He glanced at Emma and then back at David who paused.

“Yeah good idea, I’ll go get her.”

Once they were alone, Killian turned toward her. “Are you alright, love?”

“I will be once this is all over. Thanks for, um…suggesting Belle.”

“Figured that might be a bit more comfortable for you.”

The door opened and Belle walked in, Killian nodded to her, passing the bundle of wires into her hand. “Make sure a pat down won’t find them.” He turned back to Emma, smiled, and left the room.

“So, tell me, this Neal, is he a nervous man, distrustful? Do you think he’ll try and search you?”

“He’ll definitely check my shirt. He’s not an idiot, but he’s not the most brilliant criminal either.”

“Ok so we’ll go with the legs.” Emma nodded and turned around, unbuckling her jeans, and pulling them down her legs. “Ok stand over here.” She pointed in front of her, and Emma closed her eyes, sighed, and then opened them with a new resolve.

“Those are much slimmer than I remember.” She remarked, the mic pack and wires that didn’t resemble the clunky ones they practiced with in the police academy.

“It’s been ten years dear; a lot has changed.” She said apologetically. “Ok, I’m gonna touch your leg. I’m going to try and run this up the inside of your thigh, I’m going to keep the mic pack low on your hip. That way if he searches you, he’s most likely to go for the small of your back.”

“Ok.”

“I met you once before, do you remember that?” Emma looked at the girl, trying to remember her. “It was really quick; you were graduating when I started the academy. You know people talked about you all the time. First female to have the highest score on the shooting range. You beat all the guys in your class.”

Emma laughed, it seemed so long ago that she earned her place among the men in her ranks. She knew she was a good shot, better than anyone else in her class, but proving it had meant more to her than she had realized.

“You were a hero to all us women that came after you. Only female in your class.” Belle continued.

“It wasn’t easy, but I’m sure you know that. Looks like you made your own way, Detective.”

“Damn straight.” She patted her leg. “All done.”

Emma looked down at the wire, traveling up her leg and onto her hip. “Thanks.”

“Just remember, you’re stronger than him.” She patted her on the shoulder and walked out the door, “I’ll get the Captain.”

The ride to the docks made her feel like she was stuck in a wind tunnel, everything was spinning by her at 60 mph, but she was frozen in place. The car stopped moving, and both Killian and Robin turned to face her.

“Ok Emma, you’re going to walk to the end of the pier, then wait. I’ll be stationed behind the row of shipping containers on the right, Robin will be on the left. Belle and Will are flanking the entrance. As soon as Neal is on the way, we’ll know it. Just get him to come in, get him to say whatever you can and then we’ll get you out of there.”

“Ok.”

They opened the door and Emma nervously stepped onto the pier. Killian leaned against the car, watching her. Emma nervously approached him, turning around to lean against the door. “Don’t get jumpy and shoot over my shoulder.” She teased.

“Hey that only happened once.”

“What if he doesn’t show up? What if he does show up but he finds the wire? What if…”

“Emma, nothing ever goes the way it’s planned. If something goes wrong, I’ll figure it out.”

Emma leaned against his shoulder, sliding her hand down, her fingers tentatively reaching out and slipping into his. “I know you will, you’ve got my back.”

#nowhere to run #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au #emma jones

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reginadimulini · 3 years

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Our Happy Beginning

"I know you murdered me ... but I believe we could really become friends ... someday," Robin muttered almost whispering under his breath to his companion, still a little dizzy from the thing which Regina used to call "Poof" , so that at first he didn't notice the place or the fact that he just bursted into Emma and Hook's wedding with the god of the underworld.

"Careful thief ... I would be a little more picky about my friends." replied Hades, but had a big grin on his face when he briefly deigned to look at his companion friendly, whereby in the next moment he had raised his gaze again and was obviously looking for a person.

" Mate, I fell in love with the Evil Queen: I'm already on the bad side and rather proud of it ..." he replied sarcastic but with a grin and also glanced over the crowd of dancing people in the hope to locating Zelena, Reginas Sister.

This would give him the opportunity to ask where he could find Regina, since Hades had apparate himself to to his love, Zelena.

He knew that there was no security that her sister was with her or whether they were still talking to each other after his death, but since it was a wedding and according to the fact that both of them, Regina even more than Zelena, knew Emma and Hook, he was in high hopes that Regina was present.

A heavy slight sigh left his mouth when he thought of how much of Regina's life he had missed.

Moments of happiness that he would have liked to share with her, painful experiences that he would have loved to accompany her through, or moments of illness that he had loved to take care of as well as to help her with raising their children together.

"Hot chicks at 10 o'clock" Hades suddenly whispered in his ear and brought him back to reality, so that his first reaction ended in giving Hades a WTF look.

How dare he, talking about hot chicks when two of the most gorgeous women on earth were waiting for them.

"I don't know why you came back to earth. But I was definitely coming for Reg ..." he wanted to start a heated speech when he finally turned his head to follow his gaze, the word stuck in his throat and his mouth closed opened slightly in disbelief, because he didn't really want to trust his eyes.

Was it really true that "at 10 o'clock" Regina was dancing with Zelena? In a breathtaking, tight, hot dress? A big smile on her lips, not missing the opportunity to express her happiness in twirling her sister around and making that forbidden sexy movements with her hips, letting his blood rush south his body instantly.

Damn she was still so beautiful, so full of energy and life and forbidden hot in this tight white/ purple dress she was waring.

"Hot chicks at 10 o'clock. .. told ya!" Hades joked with a grin and slapped him lightly, amicably on the shoulder, the grin he had on his lips only getting bigger as he saw Robin starring at the black haired woman as if he had just seen the most perfect miracle in the world.

"Ah ... And to ask Regina if she wants to be your wife ... you have all the time in the world for that!" He said carefully and slowly walked towards the two happily dancing sisters a big grin on his face, his eyes laying on the redhead, obviously not believing that he had a second chance with her.

What are you waiting for?" the god of the underworld stopped and turned back to the former outlaw more reluctantly than pleased, because he wanted nothing more than to hold his former girlfriend in his arms, but he felt that something was bothering his new found friend, which made him turn around.

"What if she moved on and found someone else ... someone who won't let her down and who is a better lover and father to our children? Someone like ..." he began but was immediately cut out by Hades with a "For the love of gods thief... Your "Wifey" just changed her partner from her sister to your son ...! I don't know what's gotten into you, but to me it doesn't look like Regina had a new lover" when his patience clearly broke and guided Robin in the direction of the dance floor to encourage him for approaching Regina.

For a moment he stepped insecure from one foot to the other, bevor he got the courage to step up to his soulmate from behind following her movements for seconds bevor getting more close to her.

"You are beautiful as always my love!" flew over his lips as secure as it was possible for Robin in the moment when he wrapped his arms around Regina's waist affectionately from behind and pulled her body to his, locking his eyes with his stepson, more or less asking his permission to "kidnap" his mother who was yelping in the first moment out of surprise, bevor she calmed down around his soft and tender movements and the well known smell of forest, which she would never forget in a millions of years.

"Robin?" she whispered in a hopeful, loving voice seconds after his "attack" feeling her stomach doing back flips and her heart racing fast, while she used her opportunity and immediately snuggled against his torso with her backside, closing her eyes trusting and relaxing way, even if she wasn't sure if her former boyfriend was reality or hallucination.

Due to her generous and tender, loving reaction, the fear that Regina moved on disappeared immediately, leaving only the feeling of pure love for her, causing him to place a soft kiss in her hair while pulling her closer.

"I'm here my love! I am alive. Everything will work out. You might not believe me, but this is our chance of a happy beginning. I promise!" he replied to his whispered name and couldn't hold back a grin as Regina turned around in his arms so that they looked each other in the eye drowning immediately in themselves while moving tightly to the beat of the music, which Regina had changed with a movement of her wrist.

In contrast to the previous song, the beat was now very slow and enabled him to intensify the movements with his former partner thanking god for this chance in this moment.

Regina's head was bedded on his chest while burring face, which was already wet with tears, as if he was her anchor, as if she would drown if he would stop holding her.

This only caused Robin to embrace the petite body of his girlfriend even more, not stopping to move gentle with her to the rhythm of the slow song.

While rocking both bodies gentle to the slow music he whispered soothing words into her ear none stop, hoping that Regina would calm down at least a little, realizing how difficult all this must be for her and she probably even thought that she was hallucinating him.

"Please don't cry my love!" He whispered almost incessantly against her hairline, her cheeks, her closed eyelids while he kissed away all the tears that fell from her eyes and ran freely down her face.

He always hated to see her cry, but at the same time he knew that she only feels courageous enough to let herself fall in his and only his presence, which makes him proud at the same time, because he earned the trust of such a strong, independent but at the same time fragile woman.

"Robin please stop: please don't make it more difficult for me than it is already. You're a hall ... "started Regina almost desperately begging to stop her illusions.

Not standing her fears and heartbreak any longer he just crushed his lips desperately on hers begging to himself that she would respond to his confirmation of love and see that he was real.

Letting out a surprised gasp as she was immediately interrupted by Robin's lips, which were so warm, lively and passionate over hers it caused her to return the intense French kiss in the same intense way while closing her eyes in the process.

Immediately the butterflies in her stomach came up again and her heart tripled its beat while everything around her wasn't important anymore her thoughts were suddenly blurry and the only thing she was capable of at the moment was that she wrapped her arms around Robin even closer than it was was already the case and deepened the kiss further.

Chance of plans: If this was a dream or a hallucination, it was a damn good one and she wasn't ready to wake up. Hell she would enjoy every bit of it or she should be damned.

"Does that feel like a hallucination?" he dared to let her come to reality as they had to break away from each other due to the lack of air while leaning their foreheads gently against each other to maintain the closeness and physical contact between them, which neither of them wanted to miss under any circumstances .

This was the moment Regina realized that all of this was real. She was widely awake and at the wedding if Killian and Emma. He was alive and soo close to her!

"I missed you!" she whispered with an incredible amorous voice against his lips still in his arms, her forehead against his, her eyes lightly closed, feeling his hot breath against hers so she couldn't resist anymore, starting a kiss, which was just as demanding, passionate and full of love as the first one that took Robin's breath and made him instinctively close his eyes and enjoy his girlfriend.

The intense, gentle, passionate tongue duel only felt like seconds to him, although it had to seem like an eternity for outsiders because they only separated again when the oxygen supply was absolutely necessary.

" I missed you too" he whispered softly with an incredibly big smile he looked down at his petite girlfriend with heavy breath and now he realized that he wanted nothing else than to grow old with her and that this was her happy beginning. But for now it was enough just to hold her tight and enjoy her near.

" The black fairies curse... it's here!" Grumpy suddenly screamed and caused Regina and Robin to snap out of their small but intense love bubble, realising the black clouds full of powerful magic in pure horror, wrapping their arms tighter around each other.

" Where is it taking us?" he dared to ask Regina with a voice full of concern and alarm while trying to protect his soulmate and his love of his live even though he knew it was useless and that the curse would hit them again.

" It doesn't matter my love... because we will be together! I can promise you that" she whispered not frightened a bit while she looked at the dark clouds locking her lips another time with his trying to savour this special moment with all her might an beeing.

It doesn't matter what would happen now... they would find a way for their happy ending.

And as crazy as it sounds for her. She believed in it. Because true love can overcome all obstacles.

#regina mills #robin of locksley #regina x robin #zelena mills #Hades #Zades #Zelena x Hades #happy ending

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years

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When We Collide (Part 4)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for waiting during my little hiatus from writing this fic. I have been absolutely swamped with the end of program madness, but I am hoping I have now turned a corner and that I can do some writing more regularly. I miss getting to write these fluffy fics when the real world calls, but I am happy to report my muse got chatty again, and with a brief window of time I managed to write this next chapter of ‘When We Collide.’ We find Emma and Killian still en route to their new life, and there’s not a ton of action (which is coming later on), but some conversations need to be had for sure. Not to fear, nothing too too angsty in this chapter, and hopefully the surrounding cuteness is appreciated by all. Thanks so much for reading and hope you all enjoy!

No one ever felt so good in the middle-of-nowhere Nebraska.

Not to say that people didn’t have happy lives in this state, or that there weren’t parts of this place that held beauty and meaning and excitement, but it was a commonly known fact when taking a cross country trek that Nebraska was a seemingly endless, barren span of driving. There were no trees, no hills, no real sights to see. It was just two lanes of highway going one way and two lanes of road on the other side. Occasionally there were billboards, and those made for a laugh. Some were more expected, reading ‘Gas Ahead!’ or ‘Next Exit 82 Miles,’ but others were a wild contradiction. Everything out here was either about Jesus or sex shops and that was not an exaggeration. Nearly every billboard they passed warned about the dangers of the devil or openly bragged about having the best stash of adult toys in the Midwest. It was absolute craziness, and in the meantime, there was just nothing out here at all. Just scraggly, heat ridden crops, miles of empty fields, and a horizon that stretched on for what felt like forever.

Yet while many people may not like the nothingness, Killian and Emma were of a very different mind. Sure, it had been a long few days of riding, but for Killian that meant having Emma curled up against him for hours on end. It felt damn good to have her holding him tight as they headed down the highway, and when they stopped to stretch their legs or use the facilities, they’d fallen into a pattern of shifting over the reins. In the downtime and when they wanted to get off the main road, Killian was showing Emma more about his bike, letting her get a feel for the machine and showing her how to captain it herself.

It was questionable how legal this was, of course. Emma had no license, but some of these states further out west didn’t pay any mind to that. Besides, there were no lawmen out anywhere. In their five hours of driving today they’d passed nothing and nobody but 18 wheelers making the trip from one coast to another. As such, Killian didn’t have much fear in letting Emma really ride, and it had only taken about an hour to learn the truth: his Swan was a natural and also a speed demon.

“I can’t get over how awesome this is,” Emma said, pulling off her helmet and shaking out her hair in a way designed to distract and entice any man. Even with a backdrop of nothingness, on a deserted road off highway where he’d let her spread her wings, Emma was stunning. Tie that in with the red leather jacket she’d been wearing all trip, her dark wash jeans, and the boots he knew she needed for the road, and he was done for.

They were only an hour or so from their next stop, a quaint, but fully fortified home in the city (a generous word given how small the place was) of North Platt, but Killian was in no rush. How could he be when Emma’s eyes were radiating the excitement of the moment, and her hair, despite just being in her helmet seemed windswept and wild. She was bloody gorgeous in all ways, but in the throws of something that thrilled her, she was entirely too much for his heart to handle.

Unable to stop himself, he pulled her flush against him for a searing kiss and he loved the way she leaned into it and seemed just as ravenous as he was. Instantly the rush of excitement Emma was feeling on the bike was channeled into their embrace, and Killian groaned at the contact. Her hips arched against him as her hands pulled him close. She nipped and licked and tasted him with the same feverish need that he had for her and it hiked his desperation to hold her close and sate the rising need between them. She was driving him mad, tempting him in ways nothing ever had before. He had half a mind to fuck her out here on the bike. The thought of it pulled a growl low from his chest, but the voice in the back of his head told him no. This wasn’t right. Not out here. Deserted as it was, cars were still passing and someone could see, and he’d never risk that with someone so precious as Emma. Instead he had to calm down and pull away, and when they drew back, her face was kissed with pink, not just from the ride, but from his attentions. The lust between them clung as hard to her as it did to him. Her green eyes were dark now, her breathing labored, and she wet her lips absentmindedly, causing a tug in his gut that wanted him to say fuck the rest of the world and take her here.

“I’m definitely adding a bike to my list of things to get,” she said breathily, her mouth curving up into a knowing grin. She was fully aware of how worked up he was now, and she shifted ever so slightly against him, rubbing up against his hard length barely contained by these damn tight pants. “I need more of that in my life.”

“Consider it done, love,” he said, his voice so gruff it was unrecognizable. “When we finally get home, you choose the make and it’s yours.”

“You don’t have to do that, Killian,” Emma said, suddenly more serious, like it had never dawned on her that he would gift her such a thing. “A bike is a big deal, and I’m perfectly capable of buying my own. I’ll just find a job and save for a while. I’ve done it before.”

“Aye, love, there’s no doubt you have and that you can. You can do anything you set your brilliant mind to,” he agreed, taking the hand that was placed against his heart and kissing it tenderly. He watched her swallow harshly but her eyes never left his face as she took him in with full consideration. “If it means a lot to you that you do it on your own, so be it. I will never stand in the way of what you wish. I only meant that you’re not on your own any more Emma, and I need – no, damn it, I want - to take care of you, as much as you’ll let me.”

A soft and understanding smile tugged at Emma’s lips once more that warmed into a true smirk as she quietly thought to herself. He bit his tongue, barely refraining from asking what exactly she was thinking, but he didn’t want to overpower her. He may have the urge to share absolutely everything with Emma, and to care for her, provide for her, and protect her all the days of his life, but he would not crowd her. He couldn’t bear to pressure her or make her feel suffocated. This wasn’t about taking control from her for his own gain, it was just… well he couldn’t really explain. He was just so damn protective and so desirous to make sure she had everything she wanted and more. And it only felt fair to that part of himself, for she was truly the master of their fates, holding his heart and hopes in her delicate hands.

“Someday I’m going to really push you,” she said and his brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m going to push you past the perfect gentleman you always tend to be.”

“I’m just trying to be what you deserve, love,” he said, his voice betraying his concern at her characterization. Did she think he was faking with her? He wasn’t, he was just trying not to fuck everything up before it could really take flight.

“I know,” she agreed, running her fingers along his brow and pushing back the hair that was growing longer each day and starting to fall across his face. The lightness of her touch made sparks fly under his skin. The fondness in her voice swept away his fears, and left only her truth in its wake. “And I love that, I really do. It means the world to me how much you care. But I’m dying to see what happens when you just let go. When you follow your instincts, those baser ones, the ones that run just a shade or two darker than this.”

Her words were an invitation that a part of him craved. She was right after all, he did want more. He wanted to claim her and be so intertwined that he didn’t know where he ended and she began. He hated any kind of boundary between them, craved every moment that he held her close, and he wanted to give her everything she could ever want. In is ideal world, Emma did only what she loved and what she wanted, and as flashes of what that might look like came to mind he felt a yearning for more. Marriage, babies, a family. A whole long and lovely life where he was her man and she was his everything.

“We’ll get there,” she said, pulling him back from his thoughts and kissing him gently again. “Every day we get closer, you know?”

He could only nod and assure her that he knew exactly what she meant. As they came back on the bike with him once again driving, he allowed those thoughts to linger. Things were so good between them right now, so much more than he’d ever imagined. Every day they had only further cemented the bond between them, and the journey out here had been amazing even if they were on the run.

Well, technically they weren’t really ‘running’, for there was no one with the ability to chase them. Killian had been assured that the Crocodile and his strongest fixers were all in custody, and he’d told Emma as much a few days prior. Some of that information had been disclosed by untraceable messages from Will, but there were also numerous stories in the press. Even in the far reaches of Nebraska nothingness, the Crocodile’s capture had made the papers. He was one of the most wanted man in the country and right now he was in jail, rotting in a cell, despite his army of crooked cops purchased to keep him free. He was no doubt furious at this unexpected downfall, but none the wiser of their actions. Everyone not arrested in the organization had since dispersed, all of the higher ups in Gold’s command and business had gone to ground and Will promised that their case was solid and now even stronger in the face of Gold’s takedown. The bust was clean and they had at least a little while where the monster would be held captive without even a chance of bond or bail or trial.

Only with that confidence that no one suspected what he’d done and that Gold was very much occupied could Killian breathe easy, and even then it was only because of Emma. She always brought him strength, even when she didn’t realize all the parts at play. That peace was one of the most beautiful gifts she gave him, and it carried through not just the rest of their ride, but also through their arrival at the safe house, their making some dinner, and then falling into bed together. Hours passed, and in all that time Killian felt nothing short of elation. He was complete, with this beautiful woman here in his arms, and he couldn’t imagine how he’d ever gotten this lucky. Loving her and having her love in return was the honor of his life, no question about it.

There was only one thing that Killian felt weighing on him right now, and it was one last truth he had to tell before they got back home. He wouldn’t call this revelation a secret per se, because it wasn’t, not really. It was more an oversight in his disclosures to Emma. The truth about where they were going and the life that awaited them had not been fully explained, and though he’d been putting off that conversation for a few days, he finally felt like it might be time to go there. As if she could tell he had something on his mind, Emma glanced over her bare shoulder to him and smiled, looking like a goddess fallen to this world just for him. He worried about dulling that smile, but in his heart he knew she’d accept this. He just had to man up and tell her already.

“Take a walk with me, love,” he pleaded and she blinked up at him from where she lay in this bed, her jade eyes cloudy with lust and confusion. She no doubt believed they were in for the night, and he had too when he drew her in here to ravish her fully, but he had a sudden urge for a change of scene. What he wanted to tell her demanded something different, and he had an idea of how to cushion this could-be blow.

“Now?” she asked.

“Aye, Swan,” he chuckled. “I’ve something to tell you.”

“Say no more,” Emma said, pushing up and jumping out of bed. His body tightened at the sight of her creamy skin and her beautiful body, but he couldn’t get sidetracked. There was time for that later, for now he too had to throw something on and head out to this moment he’d been avoiding for some time.

A few minutes later they were out in the grounds of the property, further away from the house they were staying in, and nowhere near any kind of neighbors. Frogs croaked out their evening tune as the gentle hum of insects sounded out in the night. A subtle breeze washed over the overgrown grasses out front, but here, behind the home was a well worn patch of land that was soft and stable. They naturally found a place to sit, and lay out, neither of them afraid to be directly on the ground. Out here, under the big black sky dotted with stars so very far away, it felt the opposite of New York, and, Killian supposed, it was as good a place as any to tell Emma the whole truth.

“Whatever it is, it’ll be okay, Killian,” Emma said, squeezing his hand. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know, love. I know. It’s just… hard to know where to begin exactly.”

“Well, who is it about?”

“My brothers,” Killian said and Emma nodded in recollection.

“Liam… who we’re heading to now. Wait, you said brothers? Like more than one?”

Killian nodded. “Aye, I’ve more than one. Liam is my only biological brother, my only living kin. But the others, well there were eight at last count. Could be more by now.”

“Eight?” she squeaked, followed closely by the question, “And wait, there could be more? What does that even mean?”

“They’re my club brothers, Emma.”

“Club brothers,” she replied, still not following. “What club?”

“Emma, I…” he trailed off but then just put it out there, though perhaps not in the clearest way. “I’m a patched in member of the Land Pirates, Big Sur.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said, truly apologetic for her continued lack of understanding. “I’m not getting this. Should I know these… Land Pirates?”

“It’s an MC. A motorcycle club.” Finally some sort of recognition crossed her features, and just as he’d worried there was concern written all over her face.

“Please tell me motorcycle ‘club’ is different from motorcycle ‘gang,’” Emma begged after a few moments of taking in his words. “I meant what I said, Killian, I’m with you all the way, but if we’re just going from one gang to another I -,”

“It’s definitely different,” he assured her, pulling her into his arms. “My brothers aren’t involved in anything illegal. At least not professionally. I can’t speak to the past or what happens when things get dodgy, but that’s hardly the norm. The club owns a number of businesses in our small town and the ones around them. It was different when my Dad was leading, but Liam changed all that.”

Killian proceeded to fill Emma in on the whole truth, about how he’d been born into his father’s world but how his mother took him and Liam away when they were small. They moved back to her country for a while, for it took an ocean apart for Meera Jones to feel free of her husband. Much of his life across the pond was something that Emma knew about. In their times together preciously, he’d shared countless memories of his life with his Mum with her. What Emma didn’t realize was that their mother’s death, which came when he was ten, pushed him and Liam back to his father once more. There were no other relatives to take them, and so they’d been shipped back to America and were raised in the club, seeing a far less ethical life than the one Liam was now trying to make.

In its heyday, or as Killian considered it the darkest times, the Land Pirates ran anything and everything to make a buck. Guns, drugs, women. It was just as bad as Gold’s work but without the same rate of success or the appearance of grandeur. His father was an adrenaline junky, addicted to danger, money, women and booze. All of it was constantly present, and only when Liam and Killian enlisted did either of them get free of it. The military became a lifeline for them both, to leave that life behind. War was preferable to the moral corruption that resided in the MC.

“It sounds truly horrible,” Emma affirmed when he’d told her this, and he knew she understood the gravity of his statement. He’d also confessed how his time in the service had been brutal, so to say he preferred that to life before painted a bleak picture to be sure. “But I don’t understand. If that was what this club stood for, if it was as bad as it sounds, then why would you, uh what was the term, patch in?”

“Aye,” he said, impressed that she recalled that small phrase in the midst of much larger revelations. “My father died some years back, and the club pretty much crumbled in his absence. We were glad for that, at least I was. The Jones men had done enough damage. The world was better off without our whole bloody mess. But my father’s demise didn’t come without consequences. The club’s absence left a hole for others to try and come in. Other crews saw the money to be made in our part of the world and they pounced on the chance, and these men were just as malicious as Brennan but with even better follow through. Before long, the rest of the town was being taken over. People with no ties to the club were put in danger and told they needed to submit or give up the homes they’d known. Liam saw that and couldn’t stand for it. So he made a choice. He took over as Pres and rebuilt from the ashes.”

“I can’t imagine that was easy.”

It wasn’t. The fighting had been rough, and Killian and Liam, as well as the other men Liam had recruited had not been on the right side of the law even if they were preserving true justice. He wouldn’t burden Emma with the details unless she asked, but she seemed to take his agreement as enough, pivoting to another thought instead of lingering in the past.

“You make it all sound so…” He held his breath, afraid of what she would say. “Honorable.”

“My brother would be proud to hear you say that, love. He’s a man driven by honor at all times and in all ways. He would never feel peace unless we did something to mend the scars of Brennan’s time here.”

“It must have been hard to live in the shadow of your father’s misdeeds,” Emma said, running her hands along his arm. “For both of you.”

“Aye,” he agreed, not bothering to deny that. “But of the two of us Liam has always been the better man.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Emma said vehemently.

“You should,” Killian said, not trying to be down on himself, but stating a fact he’d truly believed his whole life.

“I won’t,” she countered and in spite of himself Killian laughed, pressing a kiss to her temple as he kept a hold on her. They lay together breathing each other in for some time, before Emma posed a question they’d always danced around but never explicitly broached. “So if the club is better now, why did you leave them? Why not stay with your family and help them make good?”

“You mean why in the world was I wrapped up with Gold in New York?” She nodded. “It’s simple really. Liam’s route to peace was in facing the demons of our father, but I was much more tied to scars of a different kind. You see, Gold stole from me well before I made it to New York. He killed the only woman I ever loved.” Emma looked up at him, shocked and saddened for his pain as he clarified. “My mother.”

“Oh Killian,” she said hugging him close, and though he expected her to ask for all the details of his mother’s death, she didn’t. She just held him, running her hands along his body with affection and support.

It brought tears to his eyes, to have a woman who accepted him this way. Who had heard so much, but was still beside him. Her patience was a sign of her strength and her trust, and whether she knew it or not she was healing him and his scars more than anything else ever could. He knew he’d come to tell her the whole story of his Mum someday, and soon, but the fact that he didn’t have to do so right now meant the world. Disclosing the sins of his father was enough for one night. The terrible tale of losing his mother could wait.

He couldn’t be exactly sure how long they remained out there, taking in the deep night sky as they quietly remained together. All Killian knew was that Emma stayed pressed against him, holding tight and centering him with the sound of her soft breathing and the steady beat of her heart. It beat out in time with his, a gentle rhythm despite the pain of both their pasts. How he had ever lived without this he did not know, but he knew he’d never see another day without her. Because no matter what came next, he was hell bent on staying with his Swan, building their life together and making new memories that healed any and all darkness from the past.

Post-Note: So there we have it. Just another little glimpse into this journey out west. I am enjoying these kind of glimpses into Emma and Killian, and next chapter will bring a final trip moment that will mean a lot for our story. After that we get to see Emma meet Killian’s brothers and that should be fun too. Anyway, thanks to all of you for reading and I would love to hear what you think! Sending you all my best and hope you have a great rest of your weekend!

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hookedonapirate · 4 years

Text

As Luck Would Have It

Summary: What Emma wouldn’t give to make one of her many fantasies starring her favorite customer come to life (one that either takes place at work and involves a good, hard fuck on the break room table or against the stockroom shelves (hey, what can she say, she gets bored) or one that takes place in her bed). She wouldn't be too picky about the location, just as long as she had a chance to be with him.

It’s just too bad none of her fantasies will ever come true though. And it’s not because there’s zero chance he would ever be interested in her because, well, she works at Walgreens and he’s way too good for her.

No, it’s too bad because he’s totally and completely gay.

A/N: This is something short and fun that I wrote for @onceuponaprincessworld. I talked to you about writing this before, well I finally got around to writing the thing. I hope it at least puts a smile on your face. Happy Friday!

Thank you @resident-of-storybrooke for looking it over!

Rated: a very Mature Teen for salty language and mature topics

For someone who hasn’t had sex in faaaaaaar too long (much longer than she cares to admit) Emma knows way too damn much about condoms. Like more than any one human being should. There are flavored condoms, ribbed condoms, dual-action condoms, pleasure shaped, lubricated, colored, french ticklers and even edible condoms. Who the hell even comes up with this shit? There are twisted condoms, her pleasure sensations, intense, warming, and pleasure packs. There are latex and ultra-thin and bare skin and ultra-smooth. The list goes on and on.

Way too much.

Emma never even uses them, or at least she hasn't in years, but she works at Walgreens. She’s a Designated Hitter, so she does a little bit of everything there, and when she’s not working in the pharmacy or behind the checkout counter, she’s working in the feminine hygiene/baby/contraceptive aisle which means she orders the products, stocks them, prices them, hangs up sales tags and does it all over again the next week.

At first, she would get all squeamish whenever she was working with condoms. Every time a male customer passed by or stopped to take a gander at the condoms, she would move down the aisle, pretending to work on something else. Now, she sells them like she’s selling candy to a child. When the male customers are browsing through the selection, she asks what kind they’re looking for and happily suggests one, grabs it off the shelf and hands it to him.

Tonight she’s working behind the front counter on a Friday night, selling lots of alcohol and snacks and wishing she was on the other side of the counter, buying wine and chocolate so she can go home and veg out on the sofa of her lonely apartment watching her favorite rom coms. Instead, she’s here at work, forced to engage in monotonous small talk with strangers while doing her best to ignore the thieves who wander in and out of the store because she’s not allowed to say anything to them, even when she sees them taking packs of hand soaps or household items off the shelves and stuffing them into their bags so they can sell them on Facebook.

She has to put up with these antics until midnight before she closes the doors and prays she doesn’t find a drunk, homeless person on the restroom floor again while cleaning. Yep, that’s happened twice since she’s been here. And she’s only been working here for eight months! Which is one of the many reasons why she’s going to school to get a decent job. The pay isn’t too bad, and the insurance is great, but she sure as hell doesn’t see herself selling condoms and waking up hobos in the restroom when she’s eighty years old. Because if that’s what she has to look forward to when she’s eighty then, Lord, just end it now and get it over with.

The only thing she can look forward to while working at Walgreens, however, is Mr. sex on legs—a Greek god with a pair of the most alluring blue eyes she’s ever seen. She’s never had a particular thing for men in uniforms, men with dimples, men with accents or men in general, really, but Killian fuck-me Jones is hotter than a scolding cup of coffee in his uniform, has the most adorable dimples on his cheeks and has a sinfully decadent British accent that makes her panties melt.

What Emma wouldn’t give to make one of her many fantasies starring her favorite customer come to life (one that either takes place at work and involves a good, hard fuck on the break room table or against the stockroom shelves (hey, what can she say, she gets bored) or one that takes place in her bed). She wouldn't be too picky about the location, just as long as she had a chance to be with him.

No, it’s too bad because he’s totally and completely gay.

Of course he is. After getting her heart stomped on years ago by he who shall not be named, she hasn’t been with anyone, not even for a one-night stand. And the one time she actually has eyes for someone, the one time she meets someone she’s even remotely interested in, he’s gay! It's like the devil is mocking her.

It’s just her luck.

Officer Jones frequents this location with his partner on a daily basis. They work together and she’s pretty sure they’re not only partners on the streets but also partners in the sheets.

At first, she thought they were only joking around, like the one time when Killian was trying to pay for his purchases but was short on change, and David handed him a dollar bill and said, “Here’s a dollar, sweet cheeks. Keep the change.” He slipped a dollar bill into Killian’s pocket, kissed him on the cheek, winked at Emma and said, “I’m his Sugar Daddy,” He walked out the door, leaving Killian blushing adorably as he handed her the cash for his morning blueberry muffin and energy drink.

He rolled his eyes and his deep, rich laugh warmed her heart. That's right, even his laugh is fucking perfect.

“I can’t take him anywhere.”

“I see that.” Emma giggled with him as she took the cash from Killian’s strong-looking hands, which certainly did not play a vital role in her fantasies. Which also does not bear any sign of a wedding band, she had noticed at the time (and several times before that). She’d brushed off Killian’s interaction with the other cop at the time, thinking there was actually a real connection between them and not one between the two men. The signs were all there, she just read them all wrong.

But now they’re both standing at the front counter in their street clothes, buying two jumbo packs of condoms, claiming it’s because the Trojans are on sale if you buy two. But she has a feeling that’s not the only reason why they’re buying in bulk, because if she had a lover like Killian, then she too would be having sex with him all the freaking time. In fact, she wouldn’t let the man leave the damn house. So yeah, she can understand why David would want that fine piece of British ass all the fucking time. And no, she’s not insanely jealous of a dude. Definitely not!

~*~

“Buying condoms isn’t gonna get me laid, Dave.”

“Well no, but then you won’t have an excuse to back out when a gorgeous woman hits on you. And who knows, maybe you’ll finally gather the courage to ask the checkout girl out.”

“Don’t call her that,” Killian chides, scolding his friend briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “She has a name.”

David holds up his hands in defense. “Sorry, I didn’t mean any offense. I just meant you’ve been obsessing over Emma for six months and it’s time you make her more than your checkout girl, don’t you think?”

“What does that have to do with buying condoms? You think buying condoms will automatically get me into bed with her? Even if it did, Emma’s too good to be someone's onetime fling.”

“I’m just saying, buying condoms is the first step. The next step is to ask her out. What happens from there is up to the two of you.”

Killian chuckles as he pulls into the Walgreens parking lot. “Thank you for the inciteful advice on how to pick up women, but I’m not some horny sixteen-year-old boy, and this isn’t my first rodeo.”

“I know that, but you haven’t dated anyone in five years. You fell off the horse, and I’m afraid if I don’t give you a boost, you’re never gonna get on that horse again.”

Killian rolls his eyes and unbuckles his seatbelt once he parks the car. “I’m perfectly capable of getting back on the horse without your help.”

David cocks his head at Killian and shrugs, unconvinced. “Then prove it.”

“I will.” Killian accepts David’s challenge and hurries out of the car, determined to prove his partner wrong. He doesn’t need help getting Emma. He just has to be himself, right? If only it were that simple because as soon as he steps inside Walgreens and gets one look at the beautiful blonde behind the counter and those sparkling green eyes, his mind becomes an empty void of darkness and his brain turns to mush.

He quickly makes his way through one of the aisles to avoid her. Now he remembers why he hasn’t asked her out already. He’s never been this nervous around a woman, but Emma… she can turn him into a complete nervous mess just by casting a glance his way.

He can feel her stare burning into his back as he stops and turns in the middle of the aisle to make it look like he’s nonchalantly browsing the razors rather than coming here to ask her out but failing miserably to gather the courage to do so the second he saw her lovely, smiling face. She’s so fucking adorable, he can’t even turn his head to look at her without grinning like a fool.

God, he’s in love.

He remembers the first time he saw her. He came to the pharmacy to get pain medication after he broke his arm during a softball game with his colleagues. He stepped up to the counter and saw her long golden hair, dazzling emerald eyes and the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen in his life. Since then, he never starts his day without stopping in and getting his daily energy drink and muffin. Even if she’s not working at the front counter, just seeing her and saying hi is all he needs to get through the day.

Fuck, he’ll never be able to ask her out.

Killian lets out a frustrated sigh as he looks at the razors again.

David was right. Damn bastard.

Speaking of his partner, Killian hears David’s arrogant whistle; he’s obviously gloating as he enters the store and sees that Killian had hidden in one of the aisles instead of going up to Emma and asking her out. The aisle with the razors is in front of the checkout counter, giving Killian a clear view of Emma, so he can hear David when he approaches Emma and asks her in a loud and rather obnoxious voice, “Hey, Emma, where are your condoms?”

Bloody fucking hell.

Killian curses under his breath as Emma leaves the counter to show David where the desired merchandise is. He can smell Emma’s intoxicating perfume when she passes him. David follows behind her with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hey, Killian, Emma is kind enough to show us where the condoms are.”

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Grumbling under his breath, Killian begrudgingly follows David. He’s going to kill his best friend.

The three of them reach the condoms, and Killian is contemplating murder when David asks, “What do you recommend?”

Okay, now David is just trying to mess with him. David doesn’t need help picking out condoms, and he certainly didn’t need to be directed here in the first place. He and his girlfriend are sexually active and they always use protection.

“Um… besides the obvious, what are you looking to achieve with condoms?” she asks, glancing between Killian and David. “Something to get the job done or to add to the sensation?”

Oh, God.

Killian buries his face in his hands to hide his burning cheeks; he could die from mortification right about now.

When he drags his hands from his face, David still has a stupid grin on his face.

“These are buy-one-get-one-free with your Balance Rewards card, so you might as well get two,” Emma suggests, handing David two boxes of the condoms she’s referring to, which are jumbo-sized. Of course they are. Because Killian doesn’t need anything to add on to the humiliation he already feels burning his cheeks. Certainly not. Then again, it’s not like things can get more embarrassing than they already are.

“Great, I think I will. Killian, you like ribbed too, right?” David asks casually as he tries to hand one to Killian.

Correction. It can get ten times more embarrassing.

Killian’s face is on fucking fire and he wants the floor to open up and consume him because it beats being humiliated by his best friend, who he’s doing his best not to punch in the face.

He snatches the box from David’s hand and storms away to avoid seeing the look on Emma’s face right now. She’s probably laughing at him with her eyes, either that or she’s glaring at him, thinking he’s a total douchebag or maybe she assumes he’s in a committed relationship. Or maybe she’s indifferent and couldn't care less. Neither thoughts are good ones as far as he’s concerned. He wants her to care enough to wonder why he’s getting them, but he’s too embarrassed and flustered to think that’s a feasible possibility.

Killian grabs a six-pack of beer as he thinks about how he will murder David. But if he did, he’d spend the rest of his life in a lonely prison cell and he’d never get to see Emma’s pretty face ever again. So he supposes he won’t kill his best friend. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t get to see Emma’s face every day during his morning commute. She’s a good enough reason to not want to go to prison.

He and David place the items on the counter as Emma returns to her spot behind the register and rings them up. Killian reaches for his back pocket to retrieve his wallet, but David puts out his hand to stop him.

“Don’t worry about it, I got it,” David offers. “I’m the sugar Daddy, remember?”

Killian forces out a strained chuckle and doesn’t argue as he slips his wallet back into his pocket. After the shit David just pulled, he owes Killian. Big time.

Emma calls out the total, and Killian finally gathers the courage to look at her face. She’s offering him a warm smile, a small amount of blush painting her cheeks.

She doesn’t hate him. That’s a good sign at least.

She starts to put the boxes of condoms in a bag, but David stops her.

“That’s okay. We don’t need a bag.” He grabs one of the boxes and hands it to Killian before picking up the other one for himself.

Killian manages a small smile at Emma and leaves the store without his dignity or his pride. He doesn’t kill his best friend, but he does make a promise to himself; he’s never taking David with him anywhere ever again. He may just have to find a different partner.

~*~

Emma yawns and slowly nurses her coffee. She hates closing and then opening the very next morning. She’s told her boss several times to stop scheduling her like this, but he never listens.

She hears the automatic doors slide open and has to force herself to remove her lips from her coffee lid so she can lift her head and greet the customer who’s just walked in.

She’s not prepared for sex on legs today or those smoldering blue eyes, or how ridiculously attractive he looks in just a t-shirt and snug-fitting jeans, but she’s not complaining when he walks up to the counter without even purchasing anything.

“I was hoping you’d be here…” he says with a timid smile as he scratches behind his ear and draws a shaky breath. “Although I’m a little surprised you’re back at work so soon.”

Emma shrugs. “I know. They should give me a cot in the back because it feels like I’m always here anyway, so why not sleep here too?”

Killian flashes a small smile, and she can’t help but notice that the air between them is more tense than usual. He seems nervous and she’s not sure why.

“So, how can I help you today?” She narrows her eyes at him. “You didn’t use all those condoms already, did you?”

He chuckles, his cheeks turning crimson. “God no, actually, I wanted to…” he pauses and scratches behind his ear again, taking in a long, wobbly breath. “I wanted to… will you have coffee with me tomorrow… or whenever you have a morning off?”

Emma hopes the shock she feels isn’t evident on her face, but she finds her mouth opening on its own accord. “Sure,” she blurts out, “but… well…” She stumbles for words. She’s not opposed to hanging out with Killian as a friend, but she’s not exactly sure how same-sex relationships work. Do gay men get jealous when their male partners hang out with female friends? “Would David be okay with that?”

Emma’s surprised when Killian laughs at her question. “Why wouldn’t he be okay with it? He’s the one who’s been trying to get me to ask you out for months. Not that he’s the reason why... ” He buries his face in his hands. “Bloody hell, I’m severely fucking this up,” he mumbles into his palms. Dragging his hands away, he reveals those stormy blue eyes again, and he looks completely wrecked and apologetic.

She’s utterly confused. “David suggested this?” Wait. Is Killian bisexual and David was trying to find his partner a woman to scratch an itch of Killian’s? Are they swingers or—what the fuck is going on?

“No, he just encouraged me because I’ve been too fucking nervous to ask you out. You’re...” He plants his hands on his hips and closes his eyes briefly, taking another long breath. “I like you, Emma. I’ve liked you for a while, and I would very much like to take you out on a date, that is, if I didn’t completely screw this up already.”

“Wait, I’m confused. So David’s okay with this?”

He furrows his brows in confusion. “Love, I don’t need his permission to ask you out,” he chuckles. “I’m a grown man.”

Emma frowns in frustration. It’s too damn early for mind games right now. “Yeah, you’re a grown man who’s in a relationship with another grown man,” she says louder than she had meant to. Her words draw the attention of other customers passing by and she receives some odd looks.

“Wait a bloody minute. You think David and I are…” Killian pauses to burst into laughter.

Emma wrinkles her brows. “Wait, you’re not?”

Killian shakes his head, laughter still booming from his chest. “No, I can assure you, I’m very much into women. David and I are best friends and partners when we’re on the job, but we’re not gay.”

“Oh.” Now Emma’s so thoroughly and utterly confused, her head is spinning. She hasn’t had nearly enough coffee to deal with something so confusing and her head’s starting to pound. “But what about the condoms?”

Killian presses his hands against the counter, drops his head, shaking it furiously, like he’s silently cursing. “I’m going to kill David.” He lifts his head, his expression etched with apology. “The condoms weren’t for us. David was buying them for himself and his girlfriend. He was only taking advantage of the sale and wanted me to have the other box because he thought if I carried condoms on me then I wouldn’t have an excuse to not ask you out.”

Oh. Now it makes sense. Kinda sorta. “Okay, so let me get this straight,” Emma sucks in a long breath, “you and David aren’t lovers, and you’re currently single and asking me out on an actual date?”

“Now we’re on the same page,” he says, his eyes lighting up as a smile curves his lips.

Emma sighs in relief. But now remains the other question weighing on her mind. “But why me?”

He furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I work at Walgreens.”

“I fail to see the problem, love.”

“But you’re…” she waves her hands, gesturing at him and his glorious form, “you’re you, and I’m… well,” she shrugs, “I’m me.”

“I know.” He smirks, and it makes her heart do a little flip. “That’s why I’m asking you out. Because you’re you, not because of where you work at.”

Emma’s heart flutters at his statement and she smiles. They’re silent again, but this time it's a comfortable silence as they stare into each other’s eyes. She knows the moment is about to be ruined though because a customer approaches the counter, impatiently waiting to be rung up as Killian backs away from the counter. Emma really doesn’t want this conversation to end, but she knows it has to, at least for now.

“So, is that a yes or a no?” Killian asks, his lips slanted into a grin when Emma starts ringing up the customer without giving him an answer.

She looks up from her task of scanning the items and flashes him a frail smile. She knows what her answer is, but she doesn’t want him to leave yet. “Can you wait outside for a few minutes?”

Killian nods without hesitation. “Sure, love.”

Emma sighs in relief and finishes ringing up the customer. When she’s done, she quickly picks up the store phone to page another cashier so she can take her fifteen-minute break. Once Emma is relieved by her coworker, she hurries out of the store and searches for Killian, her heart slamming in her chest. She sees him, leaning against the building with his hands in his pockets. Emma marches up to him and takes his hand, leading him to the side of the building, where they'll be less visible.

"Where are we going, love?" he asks.

She doesn't answer, but she's pretty sure the determination in her step says it all. She presses him against the wall when they reach the side of the building, and without any sort of warning, she grabs a fistful of his shirt and crushes his lips with hers.

Killian responds with a groan as he cards his hands through her hair. His lips are even softer and more luscious than she’d imagined. And God he’s a good kisser; she’d nailed that part in her fantasies. They get caught up in a delicious, mind-numbing kiss that has her heart racing and her breathing shattered. She can't believe she's kissing Killian fuck-me Jones, sex on legs , the man who's been the star of her dreams for six months.

How did she ever think this guy was gay? Because judging by the way he kisses her and teases her bottom lip with his teeth, the way his tongue greedily explores her mouth to find her own tongue, the way he wraps some strands of hair around his fingers and grabs her hip with his other hand to tug her toward him, pressing her against him, judging by the hard bulge in his pants that causes the heat to spread to her core, he’s definitely not gay.

When they break for air, they’re both panting as he gently leans his forehead against hers. He caresses her cheek, his eyes flickering with hope as she licks her lips. “Should I take that as a yes?”

“No.”

His face clouds with disappointment, and his expression makes her heart hurt.

“You asked me to go out for coffee with you tomorrow, but I’m thinking; what if we went out for dinner tonight after I get out of work instead?”

A slow grin spreads across his lips. “I wouldn’t say no.”

Emma smiles vibrantly and blushes. “Good, then it’s a date.”

He pulls away, taking a shaky breath of relief. “And just so we’re still on the same page, I don’t want you to think I’m expecting anything more than dinner since David bought me those condoms last night. As I said, that was David’s twisted attempt at trying to get me to ask you out.”

Emma laughs. “I’m not worried. Either way, there’s no rush to use them up. Condoms have a shelf life of five years.” She flashes him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I know way too much about condoms.”

Killian chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay, love. I told you I don’t care about your occupation… or that you thought I was gay.”

Emma swats him playfully on the shoulder. “In my defense, David did call himself your sugar Daddy.”

Killian blushes.

God, he’s so fucking adorable when he blushes.

“You’re right, he did. He likes to joke around like that… and embarrass the hell out of me.”

Emma laughs. "I've noticed."

He takes out his phone to punch in her number and address and agrees to pick her up later tonight. Then they go back to making out until she has to get back to work. They bid each other farewell, and she practically floats through the automatic doors with a smile blooming across her face, her lips red and swollen.

She’s so glad Killian’s not gay.

They end up making use of the condoms David bought him, but it sure as hell didn’t take five years to use them all. More like two weeks. If that.

#cs ff #captain swan #with a side of captain charming #my fic #for onceuponaprincessworld

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captcas · 4 years

Text

Worth Fighting For

WORTH FIGHTING FOR by capthamm

Killian “Hook” Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma “The Savior” Swan’s career was cut short. When Hook’s manager moves up and the office brings in UFC’s youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it?

read on ao3 // tumblr: ch 1/ ch 2

[CHAPTER 3/?]

Saturday night brings their monthly movie/game night and Emma has never been more grateful for a distraction. Ruby and the Nolans will come over around 6 o’clock and Henry is practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. Tonight’s theme is Star Wars and this will be Henry’s official introduction to the series; at David’s insistence they’re starting with A New Hope and going release order from there. They’re also going to play Star Wars trivia which Henry will undoubtedly suck at.

Should be a fun night all around.

And it was, until Henry went to bed and the “adults” got to talking.

Ruby cracks another beer and turns to Emma, “So, Emma, you’ve got probably the coolest new job in the world and you haven’t said jack shit.”

She shoots Ruby an icy glare as David and MM stop bickering over whether or not Kylo Ren deserved a redemption arc to hear what Emma has to say.

Emma sighs, “It’s going alright. All the onboarding is underway and between the perks, benefits, and pay, Henry should be set for life.” She’s been fortunate to live off her winnings for the past nine years, being mindful of money and not giving into the lifestyle of frivolous spending many fighters take on, but -even her friends know- she doesn’t have a money tree.

The looks on their faces when she mentions Henry being set for life could melt 1000 Olafs. When she arrived at Ruth Nolan’s home at the age of 16, she never expected to find a family. Hardened by a life too lived for anyone her age, Emma assumed they’d be like every other foster home and use her for the money. To this day, she’s never been so happy to be wrong.

Emma’s not sure what twist of fate landed an orphan with such a great support system, but she’ll be forever grateful. David took to the “protective brother” role immediately. Soon after Emma moved in, he met Mary Margaret (fireworks and butterflies and all that mumbo jumbo) who introduced them to Ruby. They’re small, and maybe a bit scrappy, but they’re family.

She breaks out of her thoughts and returns to the present, “I will need some babysitting though; I’m required to attend each of my client’s Fight Nights. But overall it’s great, really!”

She hopes she squeaked away without having to mention Jones at all but the glint in Ruby’s eye tells her otherwise. “Ok that’s all fine and dandy,” Mary Margaret shoots Ruby an incredulous look, warning her to tread carefully, but Ruby ignores her and continues, “but who’s the client?”

David is giving her a protective father vibe, Ms is practically vibrating, and she's pretty sure Ruby is salivating. Emma sighs realizing she shouldn’t postpone the inevitable, “Killian Jones.”

Ruby practically drops her drink and Mary Margaret squeals, David rolls his eyes and turns back to the TV where SportsCenter has been playing in the background. Mary Margaret beats Ruby to the punch, “THE Killian Jones?! As in Killian “Hook” Jones?!”

Emma nods, standing up to refill the only slightly empty chip bowl in front of her. She knew this was going to happen and she wasn’t exactly looking forward to her friends thirsting over her client– client… right.

Ruby speaks next, “Well that is probably the best case scenario. Do you think he can get us tickets? Have you met him? Is he as gorgeous in person as he is on TV? Can we meet him?”

Emma, now glad she’s in the kitchen with space to breathe, is starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. She knows Ms can sense it and is unsurprised when she speaks next,“For Christ’s sake Ruby let her breathe. She’s probably only had her initial meeting with him.”

Ruby seems to get the hint and it doesn’t take long before Ms is in the kitchen helping Emma pick up the leftover pizza, “We’re happy for you, Emma. He’s a huge client for them, they obviously trust you to do a good job.” Emma nods in thanks and they both head back into the living room. Her sister-in-law’s warmth always calms her (and Ruby) down which allows David to jump in and change the subject to the coverage of some football player’s arrest on SportsCenter. Emma finally catches a breath and realizes just how lucky she is for the friend dynamic they have before settling in to debate if this James Spencer kid should still be eligible for the draft.

As she lays in bed that night, Ms’ words ring through her head. Despite the rollercoaster of emotions she’s been feeling, Killian is a huge client, one that was formerly represented by a namesake for the company. This re energizes her a bit and helps her fall asleep, actually excited for what's to come.

She wakes up Sunday morning and makes Henry some pancakes and declares it a lazy Sunday. Henry happily obliged, cuddling up on the couch with The Deathly Hallows while Emma threw on some shitty reality TV.

. . .

When her alarm rings Monday morning, Emma pulls her pillow over her head like some teenager from one of those Disney Channel movies.

It takes her a second to remember what day it is and why she’s up at this godforsaken hour.

Killian Jones. Right.

She audibly groans before rolling out of bed and getting ready for the day. Between her shower and breakfast she gets Henry up. School starts at 8 so he’s technically running a bit behind but he’ll make it on the bus in time… hopefully.

She’s pouring him a bowl of cereal when he comes out of his room zipping up his sweater and rubbing his eyes.

“Hey, kid. Coco Puffs or Fruit Loops?” He mumbles some semblance of what she thinks is Fruit Loops so she pours the bowl and slides it across the kitchen island. He smiles in thanks as she pours her own bowl and sits beside him.

“So today’s the big day?”

She didn’t tell Henry about her new client and when she spoke to the Nolan’s and Ruby, he was definitely supposed to be sleeping. “How could you possibly know that?”

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are and I’m not as tired as you think I am.” He yawns as if to punctuate his point.

“Uh huh, sure, kid.” He gives her a knowing glance and she realizes she’s not getting out of this. She runs her hands over her face and sighs, “Yes, today is the first meeting and I’m only slightly nervous to fu— screw this whole thing up.”

Henry chuckles at her attempted censorship (she never said she was a perfect parent), “You’ll be great, Mom, and Hook seems like a decent enough guy. I’m sure he won’t give you too much trouble.”

She stares at Henry a bit dumbfounded. It shocks her everyday how old he’s getting– nine going on nineteen for sure. “Are you hiding some Weasley’s Extendable Ears in your room or something? Are you a wizard? Should you be at Hogwarts?” Emma is very obviously trying to derail this conversation but it works, setting Henry off about how he’s finally on the sixth book and explaining the concept of a horcrux.

Oh, her sweet summer child.

God, maybe he is old enough for UFC.

When did that happen?

She ushers Henry to the bus, promising him they’ll watch the sixth movie tonight if he finishes the book today and is to school on time. It’s only September and he can’t be late three times in the first month of school. She kisses his forehead and he wishes her good luck.

Sometimes she wonders how such a screw up ended up with the perfect kid.

After cleaning up the kitchen, Emma finishes getting ready. She jumps on the subway and finds herself at the office with a half hour to spare. She’s never early so she chalks it up to nerves and uses the time to prep for this meeting.

Over the weekend she received multiple emails from Gold’s team surrounding a possible spot for Killian on the card for the pay-per-view Fight Night in November.

A pay-per-view card. She did enough research about Killian this weekend to know that would be his first.

Emma feels like she’s been thrown into the deep end before being taught how to swim.

Go big or go home.

She did a lot of research about Killian and learned practically nothing. She knows he came here from London almost ten years ago and that his team includes his head trainer Robin (husband of now former manager Regina Mills), and three other men named Will Scarlett, August Booth, and William Smee (he’s really selling it with that whole Hook theme). Other than that all she found was his record and highlights. He’s 6-0 which is insane for only being in the circuit for a year and a half– fighters are usually limited to three, maybe four fights a year.

4 of his 6 are knockouts.

He’s good… really good.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a light tapping on the edge of her cubicle. She glances up to find none other than the man himself. She can’t help but double take.

Real professional, Emma.

She's only ever seen him in the ring, at the gym, or dressed up for a business meeting. She’s not sure what she expected, but a leather jacket and pants that fit him like his own skin definitely weren’t it.

He looks good… really good.

Emma snaps herself out of it, “Hi, Mr. Jones, just give me a moment and we can head to the conference room.”

“It’s Killian, love, please.” She notices he winces at the seemingly habitual pet name. Emma ignores the ring of disappointment that runs through her gut at the realization that it may not be reserved for her. “A conference room’s a bit formal, don’t you think? Let’s get out of here, Swan.”

He grabs her hand before she can answer. “Mr.— Killian. Is this allowed?”

He chuckles. “We can plan the meetings at our leisure,” he says the last bit in an almost scary imitation of Regina, “but even still, Regina and I never met in office. A bit silly for two people to take up an entire conference room, yeah? Come on, lass, try something new. It’s called trust.”

Emma rolls her eyes but follows along anyway. The elevator ride should’ve been awkward but Killian kept the conversation flowing by asking her preferred drink. “Coffee, tea, or smoothies?”

Despite the risk of sounding like a child, Emma finds herself being honest with him, “Uhh, I actually prefer hot chocolate… with cinnamon.”

He smiles brightly at her, as though her drink order was the most brilliant discovery this century, “Perfect, Swan. I know just the place.”

She was so swept up in his ambush, she doesn’t realize that this isn’t the cocky, asshat Killian Jones she sees on tv or at the gym until he’s practically dragging her across the street to a small cafe. This Killian seems genuine and carries this almost childlike excitement.

Emma tells herself she has no interest in learning more about this Killian.

(Emma doesn’t have to tell herself that that is complete bullshit.)

. . .

He can’t stop himself from beaming when she offers up her drink order without hesitation. Killian feels like a bloody teenager around her. He promised himself he wouldn’t feel this way again, but something about Emma Swan has completely entranced him.

He finds himself fascinated with every part of her, including the small things, like the fact she takes cinnamon on her hot chocolate.

Once they get to the cafe across the street, Killian forces himself to dial it back. He can tell she’s guarded and as much as he’d like to be friends (more than friends) with the lass, he knows business has to come first.

It wouldn’t exactly be a good look for him if he ran “The Savior” out of the office on her second day.

Somehow he thinks he doesn’t have that power.

He’d like to. (Obviously not to run her out of the office, but he’d like his existence to mean that much to her.)

Bloody hell, he's being ridiculous.

They sit down across from each other at a small table by the window. He expects to start the conversation but before he can form a coherent thought she’s speaking.

“So, Killian. I’ve already received some correspondence from Gold’s team. I’m not sure how much time you usually take between fights and I know it’s already the end of September but…”

She’s rambling and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anybody so adorable when they’re nervous.

Adorable is not a professional descriptor.

Killian Jones doesn’t want “professional” with Emma Swan.

Fuck.

“...Gold is hoping to get you on the main card for November 14th.”

Did she just say main card?

He chokes on his coffee.

“Main card, Swan? I’ve never been on the main card. Strictly early prelims…”

She eyes him suspiciously, “Usually that’s a good thing. Upward momentum and all that. His team is clearly impressed by your dominant record.”

“Is his team the only one impressed?” The flirt escapes him before he can stop it.

Bloody idiot.

She doesn’t even bat an eye, “The entire league seems to be impressed, Jones.” Her tone tells him she knows what just happened but she shut it down immediately.

He likes a challenge.

Emma Swan may be his favorite challenge yet.

Emma Swan is off limits, but Killian will be damned if he cares.

. . .

Emma is surprised when Killian pays for their drinks despite her insistence that she can charge it to Mills Management. She’s also surprised by how nice he is.

She keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She’s still waiting.

He’s definitely flirtatious, every other sentence being easily twisted into some sort of innuendo, but she can tell it’s a front. The little things he does like tipping the barista an extra fifty cents or holding the door for her, let on to the man behind the persona.

Well, and the fact he practically chokes when she tells him they want him for the main card.

He seems genuinely shocked that anyone would be impressed by him. His mask comes out almost immediately, another innuendo laced into his question. She doesn’t let him go there, shutting it down as quickly as it started. For this to work, she needs him the real him. Not the cocky MMA fighter who he used to catch the eye of UFC execs. She compliments him, and it’s beyond genuine. That seems to calm his nerves a bit as they move into social media management and he shifts into a professionalism she’s not entirely prepared for.

She’s not sure she wants professional Killian Jones.

Whoa, Emma, pump the breaks.

She shakes it off as she watches him take notes on what she’s saying about the importance of a lead up on Twitter and how it can set the tone for the entire fight. His tongue runs along the inside of his lower lip as he concentrates and she can’t help the overwhelming wave of attraction that hits her.

Like lightning.

It’s not just the tongue, (but that’s not helping) it’s his dedication to this sport and how he actually gives a fuck about what she’s saying. Killian never displayed even a hint of the deeply rooted misogyny that runs rampant throughout the industry. He actually seems almost humbled by her presence. The words escape her mouth before she can’t stop them, “Why are you actually taking anything I say seriously?”

Very professional, Emma. Way to instill confidence in your client. Smooth.

His head snaps up at her abrupt question and he looks confused. “I know you don’t like being called a legend, Swan, but you were a damn good fighter. If I walk out of this partnership with half the following and success you had, I’d call that a win.”

She’s stunned by his sincerity.

Brick. Wall. (She thinks she hears Pink Floyd somewhere in the distance.)

“And I suppose you think you know all about me from our, what, three conversations now?” She knows it’s snippy, that’s the point.

He stops typing and puts his phone down. “Pardon me, love, but you’re a bit of an open book.”

Emma scoffs, “Anyone with the internet knows I prefer people don’t call me a legend.”

“Aye, but do they know it’s because you feel too young with a career too short to have made an impact? That you feel choosing yourself, a life, over MMA removes all glory from your name?”

Emma is entirely shaken by his apparent ability to read her like a fucking picture book. (Does that even make sense? Do you read picture books?) Emma never had a formal retirement ceremony; gloves in the middle of the ring and all that. She had asked Gold to be taken off the roster and for a quiet exit and that’s what he’d given her. The public doesn’t know the real reason she left MMA, her attempt at keeping Henry’s life as normal as possible, but somehow Killian–

Brick. Brick. Brick.

“Let’s talk about Instagram.” She sees the disappointment sweep across his face, realizing she can read him pretty well too. That’s terrifying.

Way more terrifying than social media plans.

They keep it strictly business for the rest of the meeting. She’s startled when her stomach rumbles and she checks the time.

12:00. They’ve been strategizing for three hours.

She’s not sure where the time went, and when Killian asks her if she wants to grab a bite to eat together, she’s startled again by her initial gut reaction to say yes.

Obviously, she says no and makes up some lie about needing to get back to the office. He knows it’s a lie, she can see it all over his face. He doesn’t push her though, and she’s grateful. They set their next meeting and Emma’s heart speeds up, seemingly unaware that this is a business meeting and not a date. She shakes his hand and promises to have a full plan ready for Thursday before practically sprinting out of the cafe.

In three conversations Killian Jones has gone from asshat to… who knows. One thing Emma does know is that Killian Jones is off limits to the highest of ethical degrees. But what scares her most, is that she’s not entirely sure she cares.

. . .

As soon as he asks her to lunch he knows he’s pushed too far.

Actually, he perhaps pushed too far by letting on just how easy it was for him to read her, but lunch, well that was just asking for a brick wall. He runs his hands across his face, completely taken with someone he has no right to. She’s witty, smart, and could probably kick his ass— scratch that, could definitely kick his ass— but she also has demons, he can see them swimming behind her eyes. Demons that seem scarily similar to his, maybe not on the surface but definitely in their damage. Emma is raw and unapologetic; a real human being who is, for all intents and purposes, unimpressed by the suave persona of Killian “Hook” Jones.

She’s bloody perfect.

He’s fucking fucked.

Eloquent.

Killian decides to grab a quick lunch from the cafe and head to the gym. He has a lot of pent up frustration and really feels the need to punch something. Thank god that’s his job. He scarfs down his sandwich, not realizing how hungry he was and jumps on the subway to the training center. He miraculously finds a seat and is able to scroll through his phone a bit. As he pokes around Twitter he finds an article announcing Emma “The Savior” Swan’s comeback to the UFC. He clicks on it, curiosity getting the better of him despite probably knowing the gist of the article.

He didn’t expect a timeline of her very impressive career:

2008: Swan joins the UFC with her Boston gym. Her debut match against Aurora Rose ended in a TKO. She’s back in action six months later fighting Ella Tremaine. She wins again, this time after three rounds by split decision.

2009: A dominant start to the year for The Savior with a first round submission against Tiana Dampier in January. She rounded out her year with another first round submission against El Oldenburg in May, and a third round knockout against Esmerelda Gringoire in October.

2010: Swan goes three rounds with Merida Baer and wins by unanimous decision. Swan wins again after three rounds by split decision against Megara Alcmene. The Savior’s final match is a KO against Mulan Fa rounding out her record to 8-0. Her next match, meant to be for the women’s title, was declined with no comment from The Savior.

2020: Swan joins Mills Management as a talent manager assigned to Killian “Hook” Jones.

Killian knew Swan was good, an early legend in her own right, but he had no idea she was this dominant. He also had no idea she left without so much as a wave goodbye. He figured he’d just missed the announcement seeing as it came well before his introduction into the sport. Against his typical moral code, he tries to google why she left but finds nothing. She knocks out Mulan Fa and then just stops being added to cards and fades away as new fighters take her place.

He knows there’s a reason for her secrecy and he’d be lying if he said curiosity was the only driving force behind his attempt to learn more. He finds himself wanting to know everything there is to know about Emma Swan; a deeper part of him aches for her to be the one who tells him.

He’s positive he can only dream of gaining that level of trust from her, but he has to try. Liam's words ring heavy in his ears, "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets."

He gets off at the stop closest to the training center and walks through the front doors, waving to Belle at the front desk before heading into the locker room. He’s fortunate to be on the UFC roster, allowing him to keep his training gear at the center and not have to worry about lugging it around with him. It also gives him the freedom to come here whenever he needs to let off some steam. He changes quickly and finds a treadmill to warm up. He jogs a mile and a half before picking up the pace. Killian’s in the midst of his runner’s high when someone steps into the machine next to him. He turns his head to offer them a small smile in hello, it’s not that big of a gym, exclusive to the UFC industry and a few friends of friends, so chances are he knows the person at least in passing.

Oh, Killian knows them alright, and he practically falls off the treadmill when he sees her green eyes blown wide.

#Captain Swan #cs ff #cs modern au #emma swan #killian jones #capthamm #worth fighting for

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stahlop · 5 years

Text

A One Time Thing

I've been wanting to write this for awhile and then I found out it was @profdanglaisstuff birthday, and I know she loves Neverland smut, so that was the push I needed to get this done! And this is my first time writing smut.

Thank you @thisonesatellite for being my beta on this one.

So Happy Birthday (belated) and I hope you enjoy it!

Rating: M

Ao3 link

“That was ---”

“A one time thing.” Emma states, her lips barely brushing Hook’s. It has to be. She isn’t here on this godforsaken island to make out with Captain Hook, no matter how scorching his lips are. She’s here to find Henry. She is horny and lonely and, god, Neal just died a few days ago, what the hell was she thinking?

She walks off, away from Hook, as much as she doesn’t want to. She wants him to grab her hand, pull her back into another searing kiss and screw her right there on the ground.

“Wait five minutes. Go grab some firewood or something.” Emma says breathlessly. Firewood, was a poor excuse when her tank top was clinging to her from the heat of that kiss.

“As you wish.” Hook responds. She smiles. He has no idea what that phrase means in her world, but she likes to think, due to the fuckstruck look he has after their kiss, that his feelings for her were a little more than like or lust.

But no, she has Henry to think about. Captain Hook can not be a distraction.

-------------EK--------------

She is going to kill them both. She is going to murder both Neal and Hook. She doesn’t care that Neal has literally just come back from the dead and Hook seems to be able to survive anything. Emma Swan is going to murder them both.

“I’m sorry, I know I screwed up.” Neal says, with at least a modicum of guilt.

“Yes, you did. You both did. We almost lost our shot at capturing the shadow because you two were fighting over a lighter.” She yells. She doesn’t need this. She needs to find Henry and they almost ruined it because of some perceived claim on her heart.

“It wasn’t the lighter we were fighting over, love.” Hook says. Emma just stares at both of them. Do they honestly think she doesn’t know what they are fighting over? That they are trying to prove their fucking manliness by acting like cavemen. God, she hates how they acted. And yet, when the rogue shadows were trying to tear Hook and Neal’s own shadows from their bodies, there was only one person she worried about. But that doesn’t matter.

“Okay. Let me be very clear about something. If I had to choose someone, I’d choose Henry. He’s the only love I have room for in my life.” Emma stalks away pissed as hell. Neal has the decency to look chagrined at his behavior, but Hook, he can read her like a book. She has to get away before he sees she is lying. She can’t think about that right now though. She can’t show him that everything he’s been saying to her; that he’ll win her without trickery, that he’s yet to see her fail, has already made her start falling for him. The prospect of losing someone else in her life is what holds her back. Henry is all that matters. Henry is all that matters.

------------EK------------------

Emma confronts Hook later that night. She’s been stewing on it all day. Her heart starts to race every time she thinks about the fact that he almost died.

“What is the matter with you?” She hisses at him as she pulls him away from camp. Everyone else is sleeping. She knows she and Hook should be too, but she’s still too keyed up from the days events. “How could you be so stupid?”

Hook looks at her quizzically, “I’m stupid to still be awake?’ He grins. He knows exactly why he is getting yelled at. Ass.

Emma swats Hook’s chest, intending to pull it back immediately, but he grabs her hand and presses it down over his heart. She can feel it beating rapidly. Startled, she tries to pull it away, but he won’t let her.

“Emma,” he growls, ‘tell me why you’re so angry with me.” She attempts to pull her hand back again. He presses down even harder.

“Let me--” Emma takes a breath. If this is how he wants to play it then Hook is going to get the brunt of her wrath. “You almost fucking died!” It is meant to be accusatory, instead it sounds like a plea.

Hook’s eyes widen in understanding. He lets go of her hand, but it stays put. Emma doesn’t move it. Instead, she feels his heartbeat increase. Emma takes a deep breath.

“You almost died, Killian.” Emma starts again. Hook’s body shivers when she says his real name and not the moniker. She looks straight into his impossibly blue eyes, “You almost died and then all we would have had was a few innuendos and that one kiss.” Hook’s breath hitches. “And I need to be thinking about Henry right now, but I can’t do that when I’m worried about you too.” She can feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and she wills herself to hold them in, to keep the vulnerability at bay.

But Hook --no-- Killian , is too smart for that. “No need to worry about me, love, I’m a survivor.” Emma’s hand is still on Killian’s chest. He’s taken it and placed it in his, lacing their fingers together as if it was something they did on a regular basis. Emma’s breath hitches this time.

Time feels like it stops (well, technically…). The Neverland Jungle becomes quiet. Everything around herself and Hook seems to disappear. The moonlight seems like it’s shines only on them, And she knows, she knows that if this is going to happen, she has to initiate it. Emma has claimed it would only be a one time thing and Killian, god dammit, will honor that.

Emma gingerly stands up on her toes and presses a chaste kiss on his lips, so slight she can’t even taste the rum and salt she had tasted when they kissed before. Killian kisses her back just as chastely before he pulls himself away; his unnaturally blue eyes bore into her.

“What?” She asks softly. “Why did you stop?” Killian rests his forehead against Emma’s before he speaks.

“I want to make sure, Emma. I want to make sure this is something you want. I told you I wouldn’t use trickery to win your heart, and I meant it. This has to be your decision.” His eyes look straight into hers, pleading.

Emma isn’t sure what to say. No man has ever given her a way out. Not that she’s ever been forced to do something she didn’t want to, but no man has cared enough to ever even give her feelings a second thought.

“I’m sure.” She says breathlessly. Why is she so breathless? No man has ever reduced her to sounding like a shy school girl from just a kiss. How does this man do this to her?

Killian looks at her smiling, and he looks so young in that moment. The hundreds of years of pain, torture, and revenge melting away. Emma imagines this is what he must have looked like when he was still Captain Jones, when he still had his hand, when he still had Milah. Is this how he looked at her? With all the hope of the world in his eyes?

And then his eyes change. Emma can see the lust enter his face. Can see his pupils dilate. The blue eyes that the moonlight has been illuminating so beautifully is now almost black. That gorgeous smile almost sinister. And then his lips are on hers. It’s just as forceful as it was before, except he is in control now. Months of pent up sexual tension finally being let out. His tongue immediately presses against her lips, pushing forward to gain access to her mouth. It’s primal now, more tongues and teeth than lips.

Emma is backed up into a tree, pain blooming from the force of it, losing her breath for a brief second. Killian pulls back concerned, but Emma’s not going to let a little pain deter her from getting her pleasure. She grabs the hair on the back of his neck and pulls her back to him. He grins against her lips and then starts kissing his way down her neck. His scruff is rough on her neck and the tops of her breast, and Emma has never been so happy to be wearing a tank top in her life for the easy access it gives Killian. But she needs it off, it’s too hot and their heat is making it even more unbearable.

She pushes Killian away, and he looks confused and almost resigned that this is all he gets, but then she reaches for the hem of her shirt and practically tears it off and throws it at him (and damn, she wishes she was wearing something sexier than a simple white cotton bra). He looks almost scandalized, almost. She thinks she hears him whisper ‘Bloody hell’. Then he rolls his coat off his shoulders and lets it drop to the ground and starts pulling his shirt from his pants, and Emma just looks at him hungrily, like she’s been starving for so long and she can’t wait to devour what’s in front of her. He’s giving her the same look and Emma doesn’t want to wait any longer.

She launches herself at him and helps him get the offending material off, careful not to snag it on his hook. His pirate luck is nestled in its usual thatch of chest hair, but now Emma can see how it much of it there is, and it’s glorious. Better than anything she’s ever fantasized (which she never has, oh who is she kidding, he’s been the star or her sexual fantasies pretty much since she met him). And he has a happy trail disappearing into his pants. She barely even notices the vulnerable expression Killian wears now that the straps that hold his hook in place have been revealed. Barely. She tentatively goes to touch the straps, but then thinks twice; looks to him for permission first. He swallows thickly and gives an almost imperceptible nod. She smooths her fingers over the leather straps, notices the imprints on his skin underneath, almost wants to give them a kiss, but doesn’t. That would be too much. That would be too ...loving. And that’s not what this is. This is a quick fuck to relieve the tension. To keep the worrying about Henry at bay.

Emma steps back from the tender moment and unhooks her bra and flings it off to the side (god she hopes she’ll be able to find it again). She starts working on her jeans when Killian stops her. He comes close, practically growling in her ear.

“I’ve dreamt about this for too long, Swan.” He smirks. “At least give me the honor of getting you out of those accursed pants.” Emma closes her eyes, instantly going wet at the way he sounds in her ear. She nods.

He backs away, Emma immediately missing the warmth he was giving her. Killian spreads his coat on the jungle floor from where it fell, then turns from his kneeling position and extends his hand toward Emma. She takes it and he pulls her down to him.

His hand is everywhere, scorching her skin. She didn’t think she could feel any hotter in this god forsaken jungle, but Emma’s skin feels like it’s on fire everywhere he touches her. How does make her feel this way? He lays her down, her blonde hair fans out beneath her, and Killian immediately presses his lips to her neck while his hand goes to her breasts. His lips and teeth scrape down her neck until they reach her pink, rosy nipples, already starting to stand at attention due to Killian’s very talented hand.

At first Killian just gives feather kisses to the tops of her breasts and tips of her nipples, frustrating Emma to no end. She smashes his head down to keep him in place, to stop teasing her. He laughs into her skin, making her break out in goosebumps.

“Impatient are we, love?” He asks, but before she can answer his teeth clamp down on one tender bud and Emma gasps as the pain blossoms into pure pleasure. He laves his tongue over the nipple while plucking the other one with his hand. Then he moves over to the other nipple and does the same. Emma is in pure ecstasy and he hasn’t even gotten in her pants yet. As if reading her mind, Killian hauls Emma into his lap so that she is now straddling his rather large, leather-clad, erection. She feels it against the zipper of her jeans and she wonders if she could get off from just this. But that’s not what she wants. It’s not what he wants.

“Pants” Emma gasps as she pulls his head up by his dark hair and sees his exquisitely wrecked face. Killian nods. He rolls off her and loosens the ties on his pants while Emma flicks open the button of her jeans and pulls down the zipper. Killian rolls back over to her and resumes lapping his tongue over her fully erect nipples.

“Killian.” she says ardently in a warning tone. He laughs again into her skin at her impatience, but it gets him going. His tongue starts moving south down her stomach, it dips slightly into her navel when it reaches it, making her inhale and arch her back slightly. Killian takes that opportunity to start inching her pants down her legs, taking her underwear down with it. He makes a big production of pulling off each pant leg achingly slow. Emma is so keyed up at this point that she pouts in frustration at the fact that Killian won’t just get inside her! He sees it on her face though, immediately pushing down his pants to show off the gloriously large erection that now bobs against his stomach. Emma is impressed. She has wondered if for all his talk he was compensating for something, but now she sees that he can back up every innuendo he has ever given her. And she is sure that if he jabs her with his sword she will definitely feel it. She is aching to feel it.

Killian crouches down before her, keeping her legs on his shoulders, and dives in with his tongue. “Always wanted to know how you tasted, Swan.” He says into her soaked folds. And Emma has had men go down on her before, but it’s never been anything like this. Not with all the licking up her slit like a man who has been without water for weeks. Not with all the fucking he is doing with his tongue. Not with the way his fingers enter her and find that perfect spot. Not with the way he’s sucking his lips and scraping his teeth over her clit. Emma never knew it could feel this good.

Her orgasm starts coiling and Emma is so close when he stops his ministrations.

“What the fuck, Killian?” She asks exasperated. “I was almost there.”

“I know.” He says, kissing his way up her body until he settles into the space between her thighs, his impressive length pressing against her sensitive folds. “When you fall apart, I want it to be around my cock, not around my fingers.” He purrs into her ear. And the goosebumps appear again. “Cold?” he says almost jokingly, and cocks his eyebrow for good measure.

“Just get your cock inside me.” She moans into his ear. And Killian must have decided he’s done torturing her, because he lines himself up and pushes into her straight to the hilt without even giving her body time to adjust.

Emma takes in a deep breath. He’s big, bigger than she’s ever had, but he made sure she was nice and wet before he entered her, so she takes a moment. Killian senses this and doesn’t move, letting her get accustomed to his size. “You alright, love?” he asks as he looks at her with genuine concern. Emma nods, because she is fine, better than fine.

“I just need you to move.” She says looking into his eyes. He nods and pulls himself out almost to the tip before thrusting back into her. It’s hard and rough and frantic, and that coil of need starts pooling in her belly again. She sees sweat beading down Killian’s forehead and filthy things are spilling from his lips about what he’d like to do to her the next time, but Emma doesn’t want to think about the next time. Doesn’t plan on having a next time. She’s living in the moment here and she’s close, so close.

“Touch yourself.” He gasps out. Emma snakes one of her hands down to her clit and starts rubbing furiously.

“Oh god, Killian!” Emma sobs as her orgasm hits. She arches up into him and holds onto his ass for dear life, drawing him in deeper and not letting him pull out. It is probably the most toe curling, fucking amazing orgasm she’s ever had in her entire life. She can’t stop convulsing around his cock and she can feel it pulsing within her, spraying her walls with his come. She swears she sees stars behind her eyelids and she hears him grunting ‘Emma’ as he finishes up his orgasm. She holds him to her until her heartrate calms down, both of them taking large gulps of air to calm their still trembling bodies.

Killian moves slightly, but does not pull out. He rests his forehead on hers and stares at her. It’s unnerving and Emma almost tells him to stop, but then she sees the desire on his face and she nuzzles her nose to his (what the hell is she doing, she doesn’t nuzzle). And then she starts giggling, because how ridiculous is her life that she can say she had sex with Captain Hook? Luckily, Killian thinks the giggling is in response to what just happened between them and kisses her. She tastes herself on his lips and she chases his lips for more before he pulls out and rolls off her.

The loss of his body heat is immediate and Emma hugs her arms over her breasts to warm herself up. Killian stands up and starts collecting her clothes, gathering up his own in the process. Emma stands up to start dressing herself when she realizes his come is sliding down her leg. Killian realizes it too, or is just a gentleman as he likes to say, because he reaches down into a pocket in his coat, still on the ground, and pulls out a handkerchief. He hesitantly goes to clean her up, but changes his mind and offers her the cloth instead.. Emma takes it from him and wipes herself clean, almost wishing she would act on her instinct to keep acting naughty and just open her legs for him to do it himself. But it’s over. The sex has been had and it’s out of her system now, right?

Killian senses something is off with her because he asks, “Another one time thing, Swan?” He asks it with hope that he is wrong tinging his voice. She can hear the anguish rolling from the question in waves. She desperately wants to tell him that they could be more, but she can’t, the fear too great. Emma knows that he opened himself up to falling in love with her from his confession in the Echo Caves, but she can’t offer him anything more than this. She is here for Henry, not for him.

‘You know it can only be a one time thing.” Emma states as she pulls up her pants and puts her tank top back on. “Just a one time thing.” She repeats as she flings her hair behind her, straightens her posture, and walks back to camp leaving a half-dressed Killian behind.

-------------EK--------------

It was definitely a one time thing, because he never let her have only one orgasm again. He usually got at least two or three out of her. One time she even had six, she thinks, she stopped counting after the third or fourth.

Please leave comments and reblog! Also, let me know if you want to be tagged in future stories

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615

#neverland smut #happy birthday profdanglaisstuff #profdanglaisstuff #neverland canon divergance #ouat season 3 #cs fanfic #cs one shots #cs smut #Captain Swan

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katie-dub · 5 years

Text

The Bottomless Brunch Incident

Summary: There are some things you shouldn’t do while drinking - driving, texting ex boyfriends, carving pumpkins. But Emma Swan was never one for following the rules.

AO3

Hello! Yes, it’s been 84 years and honestly I thought my days of writing CS fic were done, but the words are back so here I am, putting out some Halloween-type fic inspired by my ridiculous life. (No, really.) And a little birdie ( @profdanglaisstuff ) told me that it was @thisonesatellite ‘s birthday, so happy birthday Steph! (And thank you Saira for reading this for me!)

“Emma can do that! Emma! EM-MA!” Mary Margaret’s voice rang out across the bar.

Emma looked up without releasing the straw from her lips, continuing to slurp down her delicious alcoholic beverage of indeterminate origins. She hoped that she had struck that sweet spot between paying just enough attention to satisfy her friend, while also not making it clear to the rest of the room that she was the Emma in question.

“Come here here, Emma!” Mary Margaret had started flailing dramatically.

Emma sighed, there was nothing for it, she was going to have to go see what she wanted or risk being dragged over there and causing even more of a scene. She stood up, and was a little surprised to discover that the ground seemed to sway beneath her.

“Woah, who’s playing Inception with the floor?” she muttered to her feet, watching them suspiciously for signs of further unexpected movements and only making a move to her friend when she was satisfied that the ground was definitely upright again.

“What’s up Ms?” she asked, stumbling, but styling it out by leaning against the bar. And if her arms happened to miss the target ever so slightly, no one seemed to notice. At least, no one who would say anything.

“Emma! You’re exactly the person we need! The lovely um -”

“Killian”

“- that’s right, Killian, needs help.”

Emma looked up into the most stunning pair of blue eyes she’d ever seen. They were so rich and intense - like sparkling sapphires and forget-me-nots and the clearest, bluest summer sky all combined - and they were smirking at her in undisguised amusement.

Oh fuck, she was staring.

She blinked and concentrated on ignoring the resulting gravity shift in her brain that caused. When she reopened her eyes, she took in the rest of the owner of those eyes. A cocked eyebrow, an amused smirk, black and ginger scruff and mussed up hair that fell into his eyes.

It was a good look.

More than good, Emma’s lip curled up in a predatory grin, she licked her lips. She liked what she saw, a whole lot.

“Killian here needs a white in shining armour to help him impress a lady.” Mary Margaret said eagerly, clapping her hand on Emma’s shoulder. Emma’s heart dropped. A lady. Of fucking course the most gorgous man in the bar needs her help to get in some poor soul’s pants. “Killian, this is my dear friend Emma, and she carves the best pumpkin that you will ever have the pleasure of seeing. In. Your. Life.”

It took Emma’s brain a minute to process what Mary Margaret had just said. “No, there’s no way for me to make sense of that. What’s happening here?”

“Killian -” Mary Margaret pointed with all the unselfconscious flourish that only the very intoxicated can pull off “- needs you, Emma Swan -” her finger jabbed towards Emma “- to carve him a pumpkin for a lady.”

“Carve your own damn pumpkin,” Emma snarled, feeling a childish urge to pout because Killian was taken.

“I would but -” Killian raised his left arm to indicate the prosthetic he had in place of a hand “- this makes it somewhat tricky.”

Oh God, I’m an asshole, she thought, refusing to help someone differently abled.

“Oh - I’m - er, I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, love, you didn’t cut off my hand”

“Someone cut off your hand?” Emma shrieked in alarm, and Killian looked startled.

“Well, they were a surgeon, it wasn’t like Peter Pan chopped it off and fed it to a crocodile,” he said with a laugh.

Emma’s face burned in reply.

“So anyway, my prosthetic makes pumpkin carving alone somewhat tricky. And my friend Will was supposed to turn up to help, but I forgot that he’s a wanker so that was never going to happen. And I might’ve struggled through, only the bottomless brunches that we offer is so popular that the whole place is packed. So now I need to go to Belle’s literary Halloween party straight from my shift with an ‘epic and on-theme jack o lantern’ that is currently but a sad, humble pumpkin. In short: help me Swan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.”

“Perhaps I should just carve Don’t Panic in large friendly letters?” Emms suggested.

Killian scoffed. “No need for that. I’m a frood who really knows where my towel is.”

Her jaw dropped. “You know Hitchhiker’s Guide?” she gasped.

“I’m a British geek, of course I do, I’d have my geek licence revoked for not know that. It’d be like a Ben Wyatt who couldn’t do sums!”

“It just doesn’t add up?” Emma smirked and Killian grinned in reply.

“Oh I knew I liked you.”

“What does the lovely Belle like?” Mary Margaret butted in. Emma scowled. Right, there was a lady. “Ooooh Emma, maybe you could do something from Beauty and the Beast? You know, because of the name?”

“That sounds a little complex for me, Ms, um..” Emma said.

“Oh don’t go to any trouble on my account,” Killian said.

“Killian, stop flirting with my customers, and get back to work!”

Killian rolled his eyes, but straightened up, scratching behind his ears which had turned a little red at his boss’ words.

“Just leave it with me,” said Emma confidently, “I’ll wow this Belle for you!”

And she started carving a pumpkin, because what else can you do when you’re drunk and the guy you’re into has the hots for someone else.

🎃🎃🎃

It was probably not the best pumpkin Emma had ever carved. It certainly wasn’t the safest thing she ever did, wielding a sharp knife while so drunk she had to close one eye and squint to see straight. But still, some time later she had produced a Frankenstein’s Monster pumpkin that Mary Margaret squealed “she’ll love it!” over, before turning a colour befitting of said monster.

In the rush to save both the jack o lantern and the bar floor from the indignity of Mary Margaret’s depositing the contents of her stomach upon them, Emma had to leave without saying goodbye to Killian or hearing his thoughts of her carving.

It was probably for the best.

🎃🎃🎃

Emma had thought that she would be too embarrassed to ever set foot in The Rabbit Hole again after The Bottomless Brunch Disaster. But just three weeks later, she found herself cajoled into going with Ruby to meet a new girl she’d started seeing. Emma left her hair down, letting it fall forward over her face to hide from the shame.

“Emma, come join me!” Ruby called out and Emma looked up to see her sitting at the bar. She shook her head minutely, she couldn’t go sit at the bar, what if Killian were there? She’d be mortified.

“Swan Kenobi as I live and breathe!”

Emma was fairly certain that her heart stopped in that moment. Just for dramatic effect. Killian was here. Well, there was no point hanging back now she’d been caught.

“Hi Ruby,” she said as she walked up to her friend, “Killian,” she greeted him with a short nod.

Ruby looked back and forward between them. “I didn’t know that you knew each other.”

“Oh we don’t really,” Emma said, “I just carved a pumpkin for him a few weeks ago. How’d that go by the way? Did you win the heart of the princess?”

“Hold up,” said Ruby. “You carved him a pumpkin? How is that sentence meant to make any kind of sense to me?”

“He was trying to impress some girl and Mary Margaret was there, probably handing out hope speeches like Halloween candy, and somehow it was decided that a gorgeous Frankenstein’s Monster pumpkin would be the way to do it.”

“Emma carved that jack o lantern you brought to Belle’s party?” Ruby gasped in delighted shock, while Emma was left reeling by Ruby’s statement.

“You know Belle?” she asked.

“Hi there!” A petite brunette appeared from nowhere, presumably the aforementioned Belle, and she proceeded to give Ruby a kiss.

“Emma, meet Belle, my new girlfriend,” Ruby introduced the newcomer.

It took a long time for the pieces of the puzzle to click into place in Emma’s head, but when they did she was left feeling inexplicable angry with Killian. “I pulled out my best work for nothing?" she snapped at him.

"I wouldn't say nothing, lass, I did need help with carving a pumpkin for Belle’s party. Your friend got it into her head that men and women can’t be friends or some such nonsense. Honestly, she was drunk and offering me help, I wasn’t trying to trick anyone. And besides that pumpkin brought a very enchanting lady into my life."

There was someone else now? I mean, the guy was hot, but was she gonna have to fight a crowd to get to him? Not that she was interested of course.. She leaned in with her chin on her hands, attempting to look nonchalant.

"Another one? Tell me, what's this one like?"

"She's a tough lass, but with a heart of gold. The kind to take pity on a miserable sod in a bar and try to help him get his happy ending, a real saviour, you know?" Emma's heart beat faster. "And she has the most bewitching green eyes that I could get lost in." She started to smile. “And she’s the best pumpkin carver I ever met and if she’d be up for it, I’d love to get a drink with her sometime.”

“Killian Jones will you stop fucking about and do your damn job!” Killian’s boss had come up behind him, causing him to jump. She stomped off, leaving him and Emma to say their goodbyes.

Thinking quickly, Emma reached over the bar, grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. It was hot, sweet and far too fast. “You’re on,” she said, releasing him and stepping back from the bar “but let’s go somewhere else next time - and let’s not talk about pumpkins again.”

“As you wish,” came the faintly stunned reply from Killian as she turned and sauntered out of the bar, already looking forward to next time.

🎃🎃🎃

So... yeah. Don’t drink and carve people, that way leads to madness. What’s the wackiest Halloween-related thing you’ve ever done?

#cs fic #captain swan #cs halloween #cs ff #cs ff au #cs au #katie dub writes

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Wishing on a Star(fish)

Based on the @csprompter prompt | here | that says: Runaway Royalty AU Prompt: In NO way does Prince Killian want to deal with his kingdom or be forced into an arranged marriage. So instead, he chooses to spend the day sailing and debates if he should just disappear over the horizon. Unfortunately, a storm makes the decision for him and blows him off course into unknown waters. When he comes to, he finds he’s being robbed by a mermaid.

~~ 5,700 words; rated T (some language)

Shoutout to @wellhellotragic and @captainsjedi for coaxing me into writing this. I don’t think I’ve written something this quickly in weeks, so obviously I couldn’t hold onto it since I have no self control ❤️

-/-

Bloody hell.

Bloody buggering hell.

Bloody fucking hell.

Every damn iteration of “bloody hell” that Killian can think of runs a course through his mind as he slams a metal gate shut behind him while he’s leaving the castle. The loud clanging doesn’t do much to cover the fact that he’s leaving castle grounds and wandering down to the docks, but he very much doubts that anyone actually cares what he’s doing right now as long as he’s not getting blackout drunk in front of dukes and duchesses or lords and ladies who are here to be impressed by the glamour of gold-lined drapes and cutlery made of the finest silver in all of the seven Northern Kingdoms, possibly even in all of the Southern Kingdoms.

This week has been a show, a way to display pretty and rare things that no one in the village his parents rule could afford, and as much as he’s known that it was coming, he’s dreaded this week in May. Not one for some of the more proper aspects of being royal, he’s tended to avoid these types of functions and balls as much as possible. Liam is the heir, the one who is expected to rule the kingdom and produce heirs of his own with Elsa, and the two of them have been the ones to schmooze with the aristocratic society of Okeanos while he spent his time running off with barmaids at the taverns he frequented while serving in His Majesty’s Royal Navy.

Captain Killian Jones, his Royal Highness of Okeanos.

It’s almost laughable to him that he has that title. He’s not yet entering his twenty-eighth year, and he was made Captain before he even stepped foot on the Jewel of the Realm for the first time eight years ago. The perks of having his father be the King and being fed up with his second son not doing anything with his life.

But his years spent in the Navy, at least in a more active role when they were warring with the kingdom of Aurum, were some of the best years of his life. It gave him a sense of purpose to be on the crew, to be a part of a team even if he knew most of the crew didn’t respect him as an authority figure, and living with sun melted into his skin and salt in his hair was the first time that Killian ever truly felt alive.

Suddenly, though, the one-year anniversary of Liam’s wedding to Elsa, the combining of their two kingdoms, came around, and Brennan decided that it was time for Killian to be wed. In the most naïve of moments, Killian assumed that maybe he would be able to choose his own bride, that he could possibly convince Milah to come back to him from her village, but that naivety was quickly squashed under an extravagant boot when his father told him that he had already picked Killian’s bride.

Princess Ariel of Atlantica.

She’s a gorgeous woman, vibrant red hair almost as vibrant as her smile, and on any other occasion, he’d walk up to her and ask for her hand for a dance. He is nothing if not a gentleman after all. But Killian has no interest in marrying someone as some kind of alliance, out of some kind of duty. It may be but a foolish wish, but spending his early years listening to the cooks and maids gossip about their husbands as he was eating an extra pastry in the pantry made him believe that marriage was for love, not duty.

As someone who has been in love, who has experienced the highs and lows of fiery passion and deep affection, he cannot imagine being the husband of a woman who very clearly does not want to be his wife.

In fact, she wants to be the wife of another man, something she told him the night their upcoming betrothal was announced, and he knew then and there that there would be no marriage. He’d protested with his father, with his mother too, and they’d shut him down in every aspect. Currently, he’s coming from begging once more not to make him go through with it, to let Ariel marry the man she is in love with, but he’d been told no before the words could even pass through his lips.

So, now, Killian’s letting his anger fuel him as he walks over the rocky path down to the docks, his own personal sail boat tied to the moor at the end. It’s a small thing, his Jolly, but it’s got a cabin below deck that’s large enough for him to sleep and prepare food, and that’s all that he needs whenever he’s sailing. There’s no one around, so he takes the opportunity to quickly run through his tasks and steer the Jolly out into the open waters, the sun beating down on his back and likely tanning the exposed flesh from where he rolled up his shirt sleeves and trousers.

The ocean is the place that calms him, miles and miles of blue water stretched in front of him until it molds into the blue of the sky of the horizon. Resentment for his father festers inside of him as well as resentment for his mother and Liam. They have power with Brennan, have the ability to get him to listen, and yet they didn’t help him get out of a situation like this when they themselves were allowed to marry for love.

Cruelty develops in many forms, but one of the most dangerous is in loved ones not listening when one speaks.

That’s exactly what has happened to him, and if he could sail to the horizon and be one with the ocean or one with a remote island away from the pressures of being a prince, that would be exactly what Killian would do.

If only wishes were granted.

Suddenly, the bright blue sky turns dark, sunlight fading in favor of the white glow of the stars above, and the water beneath Killian begins to swirl, everything happening so quickly that he has no chance to even attempt to change direction, to outrun the magic that he’s being sucked into. He may have been promoted to Captain prematurely, but he’s a hell of a Captain and can outrun anything.

Anything but this.

All he has is a moment to tightly wrap his fingers around the wheel before his vision is going back too.

-/-

“Hello.”

“Dammit. Wake up.”

Killian moves to open his eyes, but as the first sliver of light hits, his lids shut tightly, blocking out everything so that all he can see his darkness while his head pounds, the blood running through his veins focusing on his temple and killing him. He might as well have spent a night in a tavern carrying around his own bottle of rum and drinking the entire thing for what this feels like.

Fuck.

What has happened?

“Hello,” a soft female voice sounds as he feels fingertips against his ankle, sharp nails poking at his skin. “I know you’re awake now.”

Slowly, he opens his eyes, lifting his arm to block the sun while he takes in his surroundings. His back is resting against damp sand, his feet cool and submerged in water, and he can smell enough to know that it’s ocean water.

Is he at home?

No, definitely not at home. The greenery is too tropical, too much like something out of the Southern Isles, and with every blink, memories of a darkened sky and a swirling ocean come back to him. There’s nothing after that, however, and he moves his fingers to pinch against the skin at his forearm just to see if the pinch of flesh can aid him in discovering if he’s living in some kind of afterlife.

The pain is definitely there, but where is he?

“Did you hurt your head?”

His head snaps back to the sound of the woman’s voice in front of him, and when he sees her, he swears that he’s delusional and is definitely halfway into some kind of afterlife.

The woman in front of him is gorgeous. Her skin is fair, much fairer than his, but covered in faint freckles that he imagines become more plentiful the closer one is to her, and she has long, golden hair falling off of her shoulders in thick waves that he knows of many a maiden who would be envious. The hair covers her unbound breasts, pretty pink buds right in his eyeline, and as much as he would like to look, his gaze glances upwards to look into the depths of her emerald eyes instead.

What exactly is happening to him?

“Can you speak?” she prods, her fingers squeezing his ankle once more. “You are definitely old enough to know how to speak, but who am I to say? Some have their voices taken away from them, and I know nothing about you.”

“I- I can speak,” Killian stutters out, his throat achingly dry. “Do you have water?”

The woman arches a blonde brow and splashes water from the ocean with a flick of her hand. “We’re surrounded by it, actually.”

“Well there’s no need to be a ponce about it,” Killian huffs as he digs his elbows into the sand and starts to move backward, realizing that he very well might be in danger here. This woman seems innocent enough, even if she’s dressed a bit indecently, but he can’t be sure. He isn’t sure of much right now. “Who are you? Where am I? Where are your clothes?”

She rolls her eyes, the green disappearing for a moment, before slinking back into the ocean so that she covers herself, only her shoulders and her hair visible to him.

“One question at a time.” She raises a singular finger to prove her point, and her right arm is covered in bracelets and jewels, the metal clanking together noisily. “My name is Emma.”

“Do you have a last name?”

“Swan.”

“Is that your real last name?”

“No,” she smirks, the pink of her lips inviting but he knows temptation and lust when he feels it. There’s too much that he doesn’t know, and his legs don’t feel strong enough to run away. When he pats on his thighs, he realizes that he doesn’t have his dagger either. “But it’s what you can call me. I’ve been told that I’m as graceful as a swan.”

She flicks her hair over her shoulder then, the smile on her lips fading the slightest bit, and he catches the smallest bit of a lie there. He’s always been good at reading others, but she’s confusing him with her façade. He can’t tell what’s underneath it all.

“Alright then, Swan,” Killian says pointedly, “where am I?”

“An island.”

“For fuck’s sake, I knew that,” he groans, getting enough energy to sit up so that he can brush the sand off of his shirt. “Can you give me a little more detail?”

“I don’t know any more detail,” Emma says with a dramatic flourish that he can tell is fake. She seems more the type to enjoy cynicism or being facetious than being dramatic. “It’s an island. There’s no name, and no one lives here. So, I guess you could call it whatever you want. Name it after yourself for all I care.”

His heartbeat picks up, heat prickling over his skin that has nothing to do with the sun shining down on him, and his worries multiply until there’s too many to count. Danger is likely surrounding him, even if Emma claims that no one else lives here, but then again, if no one lives here, how is he supposed to get home?

Where the hell is his ship?

“Do you know where it is? If I were to show you a map, could you tell me where we are? What about the stars? Do they appear at night? Is there night here? Are we still in the Northern Isles? Have you heard of Okeanos? Why the bloody hell are you in the water?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Emma chuckles, clearly amused by him. What he would give to not sound like a fumbling child. He should get it together, not show his weakness or his nerves. Hitting his head has obviously troubled him, but he must be calmer now. “You need to calm down. I get it. It’s confusing. This has happened a couple of times, so I’m pretty used to explaining it by now.”

“You often find people shipwrecked to this island for no one?”

“A few times.”

She submerges in the water, every bit of her disappearing, but then he sees a flash of red scales, ones belonging to a mermaid, and the vibrant color of her tail calms him if only because he knows that she’s not a siren for they have gray and black scales to shadow the darkness of their hearts. Shit. What is even happening?

“I’m a mermaid,” she tells him when she emerges closer to shore, her breasts on display for him again, no part of her seeming demure. “Well, no, actually, I’m a human who has been cursed to be a mermaid, and I’m the only one who lives on this island. I don’t know how it happened before you ask. Everyone always asks, and I have no idea. I could have wished on a damn starfish for all I know. I don’t really know how long I’ve been here, but I do know that I’ve had three people show up here. All of them have long since left since everyone always leaves, so it is possible. That should be hopeful for you.”

“Why can’t you leave?”

She nods her head to the side, pointing out at the ocean. “There’s a barrier. Every time I swim close to it, I get catapulted back here. I don’t – I don’t know what’s happened, so I can’t tell you more. There’s fresh water half a mile inland.”

With that, she dives back under the water and swims away, the ocean rippling behind each flick of her tail until there are no more ripples and he’s left sitting on the beach unsure of anything. Most of him is still hoping for this to be a dream, for him to wake up in his bed and for it to be his wedding day. He never thought that a marriage to someone who he doesn’t wish to be betrothed to would be an occasion and commitment he seeks out, especially when he was very literally sailing away from all of his obligations, but he craves at least the familiarity of knowing that bits of his life are set out before him.

His worst nightmares have now become his hopeful dreams.

-/-

Days begin to pass as he explores the island. Emma was right about a fresh water stream half a mile into the island, and once he finds it, he drinks as much as he possible can to rehydrate himself. All of his years of schooling and Naval experience did not prepare him for this, for living so primevally when he’s always lived in luxury, but he likes to think of himself as a resourceful man who can think on his feet. Very rarely has anyone ever acknowledged his intelligence, most everyone focused on his privilege or on the talents of his elder brother, but without sounding boastful, he knows that his intelligence is nothing at which to be scoffed.

And his time in the Navy allowed him to think on his feet and live off of scarce resources in a way that wouldn’t have happened had he stayed in the palace.

If he doesn’t die on this bloody island, he’s demanding that every Naval man is taught how to survive like this. He’s sure as hell not marrying someone he doesn’t want to when he’s somehow become stranded. He may have wished to go back to that life in his beginning moments of being left alone here, but this time alone has given him bits of clarity.

For the first time in years, he can hear his own thoughts overpowering those of his family.

There’s a makeshift shelter that must have been made by those people here before him, and instead of being stubborn enough to build his own, he makes use of it, making necessary repairs and improvements with what he can. It’s not the best shelter, but it will keep rain away under the tartan roof and the large jungle leaves that that tangle together above him. Either whoever was here before truly was able to escape or Emma was lying to him and they died. She wasn’t telling the full truth, but she wasn’t blatantly lying.

Intriguing.

As the weeks pass on, each day marked into the trunk of a tree next to his camp, he looks for Emma. Most of his time is spent inland, collecting water and food from foul that he finds. The berries are plentiful, but since he’s unsure of which are poisonous, he avoids them. The only real time that he gets to search for her, even unconsciously, is when he’s drying his clothes on rocks near the shore or when he is standing in shallow waters looking for fish to spear. She’s nothing but a ghost, however, and like so many things now, he wonders if she was real at all.

Piecing together the threads of his memory is proving to be more difficult than he thought, and he foolishly keeps hoping that maybe there truly is some kind of magical starfish to wish upon that will take him home.

Forty-two days in, his skin tanned and his hair long, the hair on his jaw hastily and messily shaved with the same spear that he uses to catch fish, he finally sees a flash of red out in the ocean and the ripple effect that comes afterward. She’s moving closer to him at a quick pace, and Killian is both thrilled and terrified all at once, a combination of emotions that he hasn’t felt since the time that he and Liam took their horses and rode them up the steep cliffs of the mountain and nearly tumbled over when they reached the climbable peak.

There’s a splash in the water, and he sees Emma use her arms to climb atop a large rock that he usually dries his trousers on. She’s as beautiful as he remembers, her hair even longer than it was before and her skin more tanned, but the sunlight glints off of her in a beautiful array of colors that can’t be replicated.

Enchanting.

“Swan,” he calls out, and she jumps, her knuckles turning white and her eyes widening almost as if she’s afraid.

It’s now that he realizes that he asked for her name, but she didn’t ask for his. Why would she not?

“Hello,” she warily greets, adjusting her hair over her shoulders so that he can now see that she has starfish covering her breasts. He can’t help but chuckle at that, at the impracticality of it, and it honestly must be some kind of magic for he’s sure that the starfish should not be able to live like that. “You haven’t built a boat to escape yet, I see.”

“It’s a bit difficult to build a boat, Swan. I have no tools except for a spear that I found from whoever was here before me. Who was here before me, love?”

“A man.”

He arches a brow. “Can you tell me more than that?”

She flicks her tail against the water, covering his face in salt spray. “No. He was a man, they all are, and while I used to get to know them, I don’t anymore. Everyone leaves, so why should I bother in making conversation?”

His heart breaks for her the slightest bit. As much as he likes to spend time alone, most everyone craves human contact. She should. She’s obviously been stranded on this island for a long time, and if she was cursed, she had a life before this. She likely had family, friends, someone she could have been betrothed to. He’s been here for forty-two days, and all he wants is to talk to someone.

To her.

“I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon, love.” He raises his arm to brush the hair back over his forehead. “And maybe if you trust me, if you at least ask for my name, we can work together to try to get you out of here too. All curses can be broken somehow.”

Her eyes squint to study him, her lips pressing into a straight line, and the stern expression on her face doesn’t change. “What is your name?”

“Killian Jones.”

Purposefully, he leaves out any and all titles that he has. He’s stranded on an island where no one is. He can be whoever he is, his own person outside of his family, and he is simply Killian Jones.

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s your only reaction to that?”

“I’m not your friend, Jones. You can’t help me. You think you can, but you can’t. Why don’t you just leave me alone?”

Killian steps closer to her, his feet sinking into the damp sand the closer he gets to the ocean. “I’d like to talk is all. I tell a damn good story, and I don’t see anything wrong with a little entertainment. No pressure, however, Swan. Any partnership we have is as much up to you as it is to me, but I think we could make quite the team.”

“I’ll consider it,” she huffs as her eyes flicker up and down his body.

“Good.”

Emma swims away then, her tail a flash of red in the water, but two days later she returns when he’s drying his shirt on the rocks. His clothes are beginning to wear thin, and he’s not entirely sure what he’s going to do about that. Or how he’s going to build this ship to go home. He should likely start searching for wood, but for now he takes the time to idly chat with Emma and ask her about what she does during the day since she obviously has to have a way to bide her time. She doesn’t give away much, just the smallest bits of how she has a lagoon that she likes to spend time in and how she enjoys seeing how many times she can circle the perimeter of her boundary in a day. Apparently, she’s improving her speed.

Little by little and day by day, they speak more. Every evening he walks from inland to the shore and finds her waiting on a rock that he comes to think of as her rock. It makes him smile, finding her there, and he also smiles at how much she’s opening up to him. It’s lonely living out here, and he’s only been here for seventy-seven days. Who knows how long Emma has been here?

Maybe in a comforting move for himself but one that is truly for Emma, he asks her about her life before this. She’s from a kingdom in the Southern Isles, Misthaven actually, and while he’s never been, he knows enough about it to be able to ask her questions and follow along with her stories. She knows of Okeanos as well, but obviously not enough to know that he is the Prince, and he likes simply being able to talk about horseback riding and the adventures he and Liam have gotten up to or about his favorite kind of pastries.

Emma is a big fan of pastries, he discovers, and one night, it’s all they talk about, debating the merits of pies and sweet cakes and if cinnamon should be included in a cup of hot cocoa. According to Emma, it should, and he takes her at her word. He’ll have to try it when he gets home.

Home.

He needs to figure out a way to get home.

So, during his days, Killian finds wood and vine, scouring the island for resources to both build a stable enough raft to sail home and also have provisions to keep him alive. He has a faint idea how far away he is, how long this trip will take, so he needs to be prepared. He also needs to start figuring out a way to break Emma’s curse. Over the months, he’s grown so fond of her that he thinks he might even fancy her. For the first time in his life, even including Milah, he’s been able to talk to someone without fear of being proper or saying the wrong things. He can share his love of recreational activities, complain about his parents, and tell of his wishes for his life that he’ll never be able to actually live out.

Emma’s heart is so visibly broken, the men who have been here before him obviously being the ones to break it even if she doesn’t say so in clear words, and as much as he wants to get away, he’s not sure how he could ever leave her.

Her laugh is even brighter than the sun, and he doesn’t know how he would survive not being able to hear it.

Making her laugh is what he looks forward to every day, and one-hundred-and-three days in, he starts making camp on the sand by the ocean so that he can spend his nights talking to her too. The way she speaks, so carefree of expectations, is the most refreshing thing he’s ever heard, and he could listen to her sailor’s mouth full of colorful curses for hours.

“You like reading, right?” she asks him tonight, her cheek resting on his chest while she looks up at him. She kept complaining about sand getting in her eyes when she rested on the sand, so he offered his stomach, even if it means that he’s now resting in the damp sand.

“Aye,” he sighs, his fingers toying with the tips of her damp hair, “I am. I’ve read maybe a few hundred novels in my lifetime. I have a – there’s a library that I have access to, and I want to manage to read all of them.”

“How will you ever live if you spend all of your time in a library?”

How will you ever live if you stay on this island forever, Emma?

“Through the stories, of course.”

“Do you think any of those stories can help me with my situation?” Emma whispers, her voice so quiet that it could very well get carried away with the wind.

Killian hums, unsure of how to answer her question. He can only think of one solution, but he’s not entirely sure that it won’t send her diving back into the ocean to never return again. So, he holds that one close to his chest until he knows for sure that it has the possibility of working.

Or, at least, until he’s brave enough to try.

“What situation, darling? The one where you find me so handsome? I don’t think you can change that.”

“You’re an ass.”

“You sure do like talking about that particular part of my anatomy.”

“Well, it does also match your personality.” She smiles up at him, something soft and happy, and Killian’s heart very well may flutter in a way that it hasn’t for years. “But no, my situation,” she insists, splashing her tail in the water for emphasis. “Do you have any ideas?”

“No, darling,” he lies, partially at least, “I don’t have any ideas that I know will solve your little issue, but I promise I’ll keep thinking.”

Time passes slowly and yet quickly all at once, and Killian spends his nights with Emma, the two of them wrapped up in each other as much as they can be. She’s been here for four years, apparently, and once a year, a new man shows up and then eventually abandons her after promising not to. It explains so much about her behavior at first, about the way that she treated him, and as Killian teaches Emma about the constellations in the sky that allow him to know that he is not too far from home, he promises himself once and for all that he cannot leave her here.

He loves her.

There’s no rhyme or reason to it, no way for him to explain it, but according to all of the stories he heard as a child, this is the way that it’s actually supposed to be. It’s not supposed to be fiery arguments and even more fiery love-making sessions to make up for it. That’s entertaining and enthralling all at once, and while he’s sure it happens in every courtship, that’s not how it should be all the time.

Love should be the ability to sit quietly in each other’s company without living in search for words to fill the air between two people – or a person and a cursed mermaid in their case. It should be trusting someone else with the depths of your heart or allowing them to make you laugh. It should be exactly what he and Emma have as warm breaths of air puff onto his chest from where she’s fallen asleep on him after talking to her about the Cygnet constellation in the sky that reminds him of her.

As the sun rises in the sky the next morning, Killian groggily helps Emma back into the water. While she’s never said how much she needs to be in the water, he knows that she can’t stay out of it for too long. Last night was far too long. So, with her arms draped over his shoulders and her tail held in his hands, he walks the two of them into the ocean, not caring about the way the water weighs his clothes down, until they’re mostly submerged.

Emma blinks up at him, sleep still in those beautiful emerald eyes, and she’s got this drowsy little smile on her face that he wants to lean forward and taste. He doesn’t get a chance, though, because with the orange coating of the sky behind them and the cool ocean water around them, Emma presses forward and slides her lips over his.

Bloody hell.

His lips are dry, hers too, but there’s something soft and glorious about the kiss anyways. It’s slow the way she moves her mouth, almost hesitant, and he gently guides her by tilting her head with his hand and by taking control of the kiss to deepen it. A current runs between them, the flames of fire stroking his spine and his desire, and if he were drowning in the water, he wouldn’t care.

All he cares about is drowning in Emma.

Suddenly, though, Emma pulls back, her eyes widened, and his stomach drops at the thought of her regretting the kiss. But then there’s a swirl in the water, one that resembles the swirl of the ocean that took him to this island, but instead of darkness, everything is as golden as Emma’s hair.

“Emma, what’s happening?” he gasps out, clutching onto her a little tighter.

“I don’t – I don’t know.”

He sees a flash of green, and then everything goes black.

-/-

When Killian wakes, his head is pounding, his heart beating too quickly, but he doesn’t care about any of that. His first thought is Emma and where she is, so he opens his eyes despite how awful the blinding light is and goes out in search for her.

Luckily, she’s right by his side.

And she has legs.

Holy shit does she have legs, but that is something for him to focus on at a later time.

“Hi,” Emma croaks out, and he helps her stand, her legs nearly giving out on her. She’s wearing no clothes, not even her starfish, so he quickly takes off his shirt and hands it to her, the frayed edges landing just at the tops of her thighs. For the first time, he sees her blush, as if she could be embarrassed, and he finds that he’s fond of that too.

He’s fond of everything about her.

“Hi,” he chuckles, leaning forward and cupping her cheeks so that he can kiss her again, just to reaffirm that the last kiss was real and because he loves her. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

Emma glances around, her eyes taking everything in, and the most beautiful smiles stretches from the left side of her mouth the other, her eyes crinkling with it. “Misthaven.”

“Misthaven?” he gasps, shaking his head in confusion. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter except that you’re home. Emma, you can go home to your family.”

“What about you?”

“Well, I’m obviously coming with you.”

“Are you?” Emma laughs, her eyes focused on him.

“Of course,” Killian chuckles, pulling her closer and wrapping himself in her embrace while Emma buries her head in his neck. “My love, I don’t have much experience with magic, but what we shared on that island, what allowed you to leave and return to your home, that was True Love’s kiss. I love you, Swan, and while I’ve got no real clue what’s ahead of us, I will always, always be by your side.”

(This may very well be the craziest day of his life.)

“I love you, Killian,” she whispers into his neck, and he feels the words over every inch of his flesh. “Thank you for not leaving me.”

“Never.”

Emma pulls back, smiling at him again, before taking his hand and tugging him forward on the beach. She obviously knows where she’s going, and he trusts her to follow her footsteps.

“Killian?” Emma questions.

“Yeah, Swan?”

“I’m going to take you to my family’s home, but I need you to know something first.” “And what’s that?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath. “I’m the Princess of Misthaven.”

Killian barks out a laugh, disbelief running through him, and he can do nothing but bring her knuckles to his lips to kiss. “Funny thing, my love, I’m the Prince of Okeanos.”

“Well, it looks like we have quite the adventure ahead of us then.”

#wishing on a star(fish)#cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fic prompter #captain swan fic

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snowbellewells · 4 years

Text

Face to Face in the Broad Daylight ~ the end

Here it is at long last -- the conclusion to my @cssns19 werewolf saga! Never would I have thought it would take me so long to complete, but after two years of work and two complete MCs in this world, I honestly think I was having a hard time saying goodbye to these versions of all of them. (Particularly this Graham and this Belle, who I honestly didn’t expect to steal so much of my affection.) Still, I'm sorry those who have been following this had to wait so long! Thanks you so much for reading and for sticking with me on this venture. Enjoy the happy ending (beginning)! :)

Plus, kudos and thanks once more to @branlovestowrite for this gorgeous fic cover, that I STILL can’t stop staring at!!! <3

This full story from the beginning can be found here or on AO3. As can its predecessor “Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)” from @cssns18 - here and on AO3 or ff.net.

Summary: A werewolf au and alternate season two and beyond fic from the @cssns event. Should probably read the first story in the series, "Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)", or it might be a bit confusing in places. This second story in the same universe partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, we may also see them get into some new surprises and challenges, and of course we need to see if Rumplestiltskin is still under control or back to his usual scheming and plotting....

~ epilogue: two very happy beginnings

After all the trouble and fear which had preceded their birth, and the risk their mother had endured to deliver them, there was nothimg but bliss surrounding Belle and Graham’s newborns once they arrived. Both were peaceful and content babies, seeming fit and healthy and perfectly adorable in every way - no furry toes, lupine ears, or anything else which one might have wondered about with such unusual origins and accelerated gestation. All of their organs and extremities were fully formed and working well; an immense relief to their mother and father, who were already desperately enamored of them, and the friends and makeshift family who had gathered around them in support.

In fact, the only real hint at their supernatural heritage was that both already had adorable ringlets of a deep russet brown, much the same color as Belle’s, though the curls were all Graham at his most disheveled, when fingers had been carded through it repeatedly. Both had the most adorable, cherubic chubby-cheeked faces that anyone who looked on them would agree they had ever seen, and they had charmed nearly every nurse in the ward where Belle had been moved for observation during her recovery, with barely more than a blink, a gurgle, or the single wave of a pudgey little hand. It seemed - much to the dismay of their numerous new admirers - that Belle would almost certainly be cleared to leave soon, as she seemed to be mending remarkably well.

In the meantime, however, Graham had taken a full paternity leave from the station in order to fuss over her protectively to his own satisfaction, promoting Emma to acting sheriff for the time being, and her dad and her wolf man both as deputies. Belle had tried to reason that it wasn’t necessary, that she was in good hands, and that she already felt much better, but he was having none of it; intent on being right by her side and at her beck and call with an almost desperate physical need. He come so close to losing her - her and the two precious pups he already loved more than life. He could not fathom how he would have survived if Belle had not. Even for someone who had spent much of his life in a solitary, isolated existence, loneliness still threatened to choke and suffocate him at the thought of losing her; the one person who had ever eased his burden and truly felt his pain - because, in many ways, it had been her own as well. The very idea of her presence fading from the world was overwhelming.

On rounding the corner into the hallway for his love’s room, he could hear raised voices and raucous laughter. Brow furrowing immediately, and hand rather damagingly tightening its clutch on the bag of chocolate croissants and takeaway cup of hot tea Belle had wheedled him into fetching for her, Graham’s hackles rose unbidden as he doubled his pace. Granted, the uproar sounded pleasant enough, but it wasn’t what he had expected to encounter upon his return, and Belle needed her rest, not well-meaning visitors overexciting her and wearing her out. Though he knew he was being ridiculous and bordering on driving Belle crazy with his caution and concern for her health, he couldn’t do much to stop the unbidden reactions that kept rising within him either.

Wheeling into the room, ready to show her visitors out, Graham stopped short at the collection of people crowded into the small space, and Belle in the center of it all, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and the happiest smile as she looked up to greet him.

“You’re back,” she crooned warmly, holding out her delicate hand for him to take, as well as to pull him closer. “Look! Can you believe this? Everyone wanted to see the twins and bring them gifts.”

Mary Margaret, at the foot of Belle’s bed, beamed at him and then Belle once more in turn. “Well, that is the best part of knowing someone with a little one,” she chipped in mischievously, “getting to spoil them with all the cutest toys and clothes.”

Her husband beside her chuckled, his hand shaking with his mirth even as he pulled her into his side to affectionately press his lips to the top of her head. “Only you, Sweetheart,” he teased.

Henry practically bounced on the balls of his feets between his grandparents and his mom and Killian, clutching a gift bag he clearly hadn’t yet been able to give to Belle.

Ducking his head, Graham flushed at the thought that he had been about to banish them all from the room. One look at their faces showed they meant nothing but to help them both celebrate the joyous arrivals and Belle’s recovery; not to mention that one needed only to glance at the new mother for a second to see the good their visit had done.

Glancing sheepishly at his former liege, Graham nodded respectfully to Mary Margaret. “Thank you, truly, your Majesties, but… you didn’t have to do this… I mean, my Queen… Um, er, Snow?” Though both she and Charming had repeatedly let him know that bowing and formality were unnecessary, it was an adaptation the former Huntsman was still making, with varied amounts of success.

Snow reached out to press his upper arm with her hand, assuring him that the pleasure had been theirs, which he was grateful for - even as Emma and Killian on one side of the bed, and Ruby and Granny on the other, were set to laughing once more at his expense. Her husband smiled at her genuinely; that wide, magnanimous smile which let a person know that he was understood, that all was well, that he was seen and cared for by those called to rule and wear the crown of royalty - even if, in this world, that mark of leadership took the form of a deputy’s badge rather than a throne and lavish finery.

Taking pity on his awkward tendency in larger groups, Belle beckoned her love closer still, a gentle and knowing smile on her lips. “Maybe you’d like to help me make our announcement, since everyone seems to be here anyway,” she suggested, gazing up at Graham in sweet affection despite the heated blush that stole across his neck and the tips of his ears, though his stubble hid the pink of his cheeks.

Her sheriff nodded eagerly, knowing that their gathered group of friends and loved ones would be excited to hear the news, and he hoped, touched as well by the small gesture of thanks he and Belle were offering in return for their kindness and loyalty. To his mind, it could never come close to being enough, but it was something. Clasping Belle’s hand in his as he reached her side, Graham brought it up to his mouth, laying soft, chaste kisses to her knuckles one by one as they were intertwined by his own.

Looking back up into the faces of the fiercely protective tribe gathered round them, the man who had once faced the world completely alone found it particularly fitting that the twins were in the arms of Ruby and Emma. Since the little declaration they were about to make would touched those two fierce women most, it seemed almost kismet that those two would already be holding the little boy and girl.

“As Belle already mentioned,” Graham began, a grin making its way across his face in spite of his dislike for the center of attention. This joyous moment was different, and he found himself almost beaming as those gathered before him looked up curiously at his words. “We have a couple of things we’d like to tell you. Seeing that we might not have reached this point so happily without all of you, it seemed only right that you be the first ones to know. These two cuties you’re all busy cuddling and spoiling within an inch of their lives…” At that, he gestured to the two happily gurgling littles ones, and his audience chuckled, knowing he had them with the spoiling. “These two new arrivals have names at last. Belle and I would very much like you to officially meet Rose Red and Hunter Henry.”

Oohs and ahhs over the perfection and adorability of their choices broke out all around, though no one’s enthusiasm was felt more than Henry’s. At hearing that the little boy cradled in his mom’s arms was sharing his first name for a middle one, Henry’s eyes bugged wide in sparkling excitement. Thrilled and bouncing even more than he had been previously, the young prince looked to Belle sweetly, thrilled beyond all reasoning. “You - you named him for me?” he repeated in awe.

Belle nodded, the smile she offered her young friend both kind and affectionately indulgent. Her eyes were more than a bit wide and glazed with a sheen of unshed tears as she wrapped him up in the hug he offered. “Of course we did!” she whispered in his ear emphatically. “You brought all of us back to our real selves with your belief. Who wouldn’t want their little ones to have a heart like yours?”

Graham leaned over to envelop them both in a fierce hug too before Henry and Belle could separate. His own voice was husky and rasped with stark emotion, but he spoke over the lump of feeling to second Belle’s response. “You were a light when so many of us had little else in this place - not even our true selves. You should know what a hero you are by now.”

Henry shook his head in disbelief, having a hard time swallowing such praise, even as it sent a wide, crooked smile across his face and pride stir within him. Yet, as he glanced around at everyone else in the room, they were nodding and affirming their agreement - from Ruby beaming at him widely, to his grandma’s teary joy, to his mom and Killian standing together, with his mom mouthing ‘He’s right, you are’ to him with a look of such parental approval and love that Henry hardly knew how to handle it.

Chuckling good naturedly, Ruby reached out to ruffle his hair, something he had begun to protest his mom doing (he wasn’t a little kid anymore!) but which didn’t seem to bother him when the pretty brunette werewolf did it. Her teasing and bright, toothy smile made the usual gripe die on his tongue and a flush creep up his neck instead. “Well, I’m not sure I’m even half so deserving as Henry,” Ruby jested, “but I’m still touched you’d put ‘Red’ in there for a middle name too.”

“Well…” Graham paused, drawing out his next words dramatically as he flicked yet another look over at Belle who nodded eagerly, biting back a giggle at the glint of mischief in his eye and at how happily surprised they were about to make her vivacious new friend. “It seemed only fair she carry a nod to one of her two godmothers in her name. That is… if you and Emma agree to take on that role.”

Ruby squealed with barely contained glee, stopping herself just in time from jumping up and down in her excitment and jostling the little girl dozing in her arms. “Are you serious?” she asked, dark eyes wide in awe and genuine surprise. “Me?... Truly?!?”

Belle clutched her hand, reaching out with kind approbation. “Truly and absolutely… we’d be honored.”

After a moment weighted with feeling and acceptance, all three turned their faces to Emma, who was blinking rapidly as she glanced up from Hunter’s cherubic countenance to return their gaze, and nodded wordlessly, offering a tremulous smile to her friends before finally managing to croak out, “Me too… absolutely.”

That afternoon took on a golden-tinged glow for all of them in reminiscence. Looking back on it at any time afterwards, that moment just after the twins’ birth was one of those scarce ones that only come along ever so rarely, where everything seems right as it should. A moment meant to be frozen and kept sacred in the mind’s eye, one to treasure.

Even after life began to shift back to normal, they were forever altered - and despite the difficulty and danger they’d weathered - for the better. After recuperating (much longer than she had wished, at Graham’s and her other friends’ insistence) Belle returned to her beloved library, helping anyone who stepped into her sanctuary find the story they sought. Graham eventually stemmed the flow of stifling overprotectiveness and desire to watch over his love at every moment, and returned to his post and duties as sheriff, taking care of the town that had become his home - the people in it more family than he had even been gifted by birth.

And though it might have been a reluctant parting at first, both of them rested in the assurance that either godmother they left their children with had successfully fought both villains and monsters, and would do so again for their young. If Emma had the day off from the station, she often took the twins out on the waves with Killian in his ship, their childish giggles and squeals showing signs of them coming to love the wind and waves almost as much as the trees and shadowed clearings of the forest. If Emma was working, Ruby or Granny were more than happy to entertain and look after Rose and Hunter. Ruby had been known to set them both on the diner counter in their car seats when she was hostess, making faces at them in play and allowing pretty much everyone in the town who entered Granny’s to fall in love with them. Or sometimes Granny would rock them gently, one in each arm, in an old rocker situated in the corner of her upstairs office. Though she had mostly recovered from Morgana’s attack, her older joints didn’t have the healing powers they had once possessed, and she simply couldn’t stay on her feet in the kitchens all day as she once had. She was more than pacified in her occasional relegation to the quiet room to keep the books and check tourists into the inn by the presence of the two little ones where she could have them all to her self and tell them old stories, just as she had once done for Ruby and Graham years ago.

And Emma… well, she and Killian understood quite well what would bring both their sheriff and librarian back to the service of their strange little fairy tale town in whatever way they felt called. The sense of belonging to and affection for a place both of them had once considered themselves “only passing through” or arrived in by mistake was uncannily right, all the way down to their sinew and bones. When Emma’s deputy shifts ended in the afternoon or early evening, she found herself with a wealth of options - more people to see and things to do than she would have ever imagined for herself. On days when she was finished by three, she sometimes strolled over to the school to meet Henry and her mother and walk to her parents’ loft with them for an afternoon snack - or if it was raining, she might pick them up in the Bug. Occasionally, she drove over to the animal shelter where her father was now office manager and spent time with her dad - the novelty of that, which she had wished for so often in her growing up years, never seemed to wear thin. Moreover as well as growing closer and closer to her dad, she was growing more and more tempted with each visit to adopt the large, saucy tomcat that always greeted her with his vocal purring as she arrived and reached her hand into his enclosure to stroke his sleek, beautifully striped fur and scratch behind his ears.

“Who’s a good boy?” she found herself crooning more often than not, to her dad’s chuckling over her shoulder.

“Oh, he is - and he knows it!” Prince Charming offered. “He’s been here nearly six months now. His owner trained him well - loved him and spoiled him rotten truthfully - but she passed away... Antonio, I believe she called him.”

Emma snorted, “Must have been a Shrek fan,” she mumbled under her breath, now offering him gentle scritches under his chin.

“What’s that?” her dad asked, a puzzled tilt to his head.

“Oh, never mind,” Emma waved her hand. “Just another movie woven into this place with a tie to fairy tales, but I doubt you’ve seen it. The Puss in Boots character in it is voiced by an actor named Antonio.”

Her father chuckled, shaking his head at his own oblivious ignorance, long used to such occurences happening by that point. “Gotcha. Well, regardless, he definitely likes you, and he’d be good company. Plus, a good mouser on a pirate ship…?”

Emma cut her eyes to her father with a wry smile, both knowing what he was hinting at, and that he was digging for more info. “Subtle, Dad… real subtle.”

Yet it didn’t stop her from carrying said ‘mouser’ in her arms when she headed out that night as her dad locked up. The adoption paperwork was folded and stuffed into her back pocket, and she knew Killian would be equally as charmed by the handsome feline as she had been. Even as she and her father parted ways and she set off on her path to the docks, shaking her head at her own softheartedness, she knew that her wolf man would welcome her pet with open arms. He had even more of a weakness for lonely creatures in need of a home than she did.

The moonlight glittered off the dark waters of Storybrooke harbor, where the Jolly Roger was now permanently berthed. Pausing on the wooden planks of the dock, Emma gazed up at the ship, seeing her sailor standing on board, bathed in the ethereal glow and staring up at the stars overhead. His magnificent old ship had come to seem like her home too; she practically lived there with him for all intents and purposes.

Something warm swelled within her chest as Killian turned at the sound of her approach and smiled down at her in welcome. “I’ve brought you a new recruit,” she offered playfully, stepping up to the gangplank where he could see the animal nestled happily in her arms.

“Well now, Lass,” Killian murmured, a pleased smile teasing at his firm, supple mouth as he took in the purring tabby. “It’s been some years since we’ve had a good mouser aboard the Jolly. He’s an admirable find for certain.” His wink along with the words made her blush, even with such a light and playful conversation.

Holding out his hand to help her aboard, Emma thrilled at the gentle pressure of her pirate’s fingers wrapped around her smaller ones. As she reached his side on deck, she leaned into Killian’s sturdy frame while his arms encircled her and his spicy scent enveloped her senses, the rightness of the moment and them together and their place in their world - home at long last - could not be any clearer. Their port was set, wherever they might sail.

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @spartanguard @laschatzi @therooksshiningknight @whimsicallyenchantedrose @gingerchangeling @winterbaby89 @resident-of-storybrooke @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @lfh1226-linda @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @darkcolinodonorgasm @ilovemesomekillianjones @thislassishooked

#cssns19 #cs werewolf au mc #cs alternate season two ff #graham x belle #face to face in the broad daylight #epilogue

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artistic-writer · 5 years

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Fragments of Home :: CS AU :: E :: Epilogue

Title: Fragments of Home by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan must return home to her childhood town of Storybrooke when her mother dies and stays in the house left to her and her brother, David Nolan. Emma must juggle a temporary job at the hospital with her loss, something that has made her feel smaller than she ever was. When a tall, dark, handsome stranger comes into her life in the most unexpected way, and she begins to fall in love, will she stay in Storybrooke, or return to her new life back in New York?

Rating: E

Previous: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - 11 - 12

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: This is it! The end of this story! With special thanks to @kmomof4 for being a kickass beta, @hollyethecurious and @doodlelolly0910for listening to my ramblings and to @darkcolinodonorgasm for being so patient :D Small warning that this chapter talks about miscarriage.

Taglist: @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke@thislassishooked@hollyethecurious @deathbycaptainswan@branlovesouat @delightfully-difficult-pirate @flipperbrain@wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @doodlelolly0910 @darkcolinodonorgasm

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Six Months Later

Killian hated conferences, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be the person attending it. The hotel was like every other mass erected, stone monstrosity owned by the Gold Corporation and they were spread all over the city. New York was plagued by Gold and his business endeavours, like a scourge across the city, breaking up people’s lives and homes to build more and more. Gold had his fingers in all sorts of pies, but Killian could see each and every one of the corners that had been cut to line Gold’s pockets.

The lobby was drab and the whole building had been designed to let in as little light as possible. The tiles were black, flecked with tiny shards of some gold leaf that glittered in what little light there was. There was a stonework fountain in the centre of the lobby, the concrete worn smooth by years of people sitting on it or curious hands across its surface. It was not powerful, instead, a slow trickle of water rising up through the centre of the main part, a dagger, and exiting through the top of the handle. The blade looked almost real, and Killian could see that someone on the staff had kept it clean despite the best efforts of the corrosive water.

The noise in the lobby was overpowering. The mixer had been organised by Gold Corp to announce the inception of yet another building, although this time, Killian had to admit it was a much worthier cause. The hospital next door to the hotel was expanding, opening its doors to more people with a huge extension project of its emergency department. It would mean better, faster, more specialised care for every patient that walked through the doors in need. Whilst out of character for a parasite like Gold, Killian had heard rumours that his new wife was the main influence for his sudden and spontaneous growth of a soul. Killian would never have dealt with Gold otherwise.

So many people made Killian nervous. Everyone looked his way as he made his way from the check-in desk, every set of eyes piercing into him from all directions. Ever since Emma had left, Killian had been mostly off-grid. David had signed him up for a short six-month expedition to help design and build orphanages in underdeveloped countries, and it had been single-handedly the best and worst six months of Killian’s life. He couldn’t contact Emma before he left, and the signal was spotty at best under the blazing heat of the African sun, so to say he had little human interaction lately was an understatement. New York was the opposite of isolated.

There was another problem. Emma lived in New York.

Killian could go and represent the company, smile and shake hands with everyone he met with all the charm and charisma he had, but he wasn’t sure what would happen if he ran into Emma. They hadn’t talked since shortly after she had come out of the hospital, sleep taking him before he had known what was happening and the sheets as cold as ice when he awoke the next day. She had left a note.

At first he was angry, not at her but himself, for not realising sooner that she had felt so lost. She had asked for time and he had obliged, naturally, he would have given her anything, but his patience wore thin very quickly. Then he had tried to contact her with no success, each phone call ending with a generic disconnected error message. David was no help either. He simply reminded Killian that if he truly loved Emma, then he would respect her wishes. She would come back, she just needed time. Killian gave her time and tried to respect her wishes, but when he finally couldn’t take it anymore, David had told him to stop chasing someone who didn’t want to get caught. Stop trying to find someone who didn’t want to be found.

And then, David delivered the devastating news that crushed the only hope Killian had left. The baby was gone, how he wasn’t sure because there was no explanation, but it was gone. Oh, and Killian was going overseas for no less than six months to help build a home for unwanted children. Killian’s child had been wanted, and he found a great calmness in creating a home for those unfortunate enough to be unwanted. There wasn’t a day that went by when Killian didn’t think of Emma and what she must be going through, but without a way of contacting her, he just had to live with the knowledge that the most overprotective brother he had ever met would be there for her.

Two nights in the hotel was all Killian had to survive before he could go searching for her. The panels were only a few hours long, one on each day and the interlude between would be the time Killian needed to take advantage of the free wi-fi and look up the elusive Dr. Emma Swan. Maybe he could find a new phone number for her? A work address? Home address?

“You sound like a stalker, Killian.” A chuckle escaped his lips as he swirled the honey coloured rum around in the bottom of the glass in his hand, his fingers hot against the cool of the chilled glass. He threw his head back, emptying the last remnants of his third rum into his stomach with barely a swallow to ease his mind.

The mixer behind him was in full swing, lights dimmed lower as the evening had drawn on, the sound of high heels and fake laughter echoing through the hotel bar. Tomorrow would be the first day of talks, the first day of business, but for now, the bar was free to all VIP guest speakers. Even if he wasn’t talking until day two, Killian was certainly keen to drown out the echoes of grief with a quick flash of his VIP card. And who knows, maybe he could even drown out the day one talks whilst he was at it.

He slipped off his jacket and laid it over the back of his chair. The room had become suddenly hot, musty with the smell of day-old sweat and stale perfume as his peers danced the evening away, and Killian quickly unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled his shirt to his elbows. The bar, its rolled edge capped with brass, was cold against his arms as he leaned forward and waved his laminated VIP card at the barman again with a tight-lipped smile.

After his fifth rum, Killian was sure that his brain was playing tricks on him. Everyone in a cute little cocktail dress looked like her, and everyone with a blurring flash of blonde hair smelled like her, but when the buzzing in his ears cleared enough that he could hear voices again, only one sounded like her. Killian twisted his body on the high, leather-coated bar stool, only for his vision to blur and betray him instantly. He blinked a few times, vision focusing on a blur of red and a flash of yellow he would recognise anywhere.

Emma Swan was here, in the same hotel, and she was gorgeous.

Her hair was longer, set into loose curls that bounced on her shoulders with each shake of her head as she talked into the brand new phone pressed to her ear. Killian could still see the seal of plastic around the edge of the device that had yet to be peeled off, and even slightly tipsy, he could tell it was a new model. None of that mattered once his eyes fell on her body, slightly rounder in places than he recalled but no less delectable, the figure-hugging little red number clinging so tightly to her body he could have sworn she was poured into it.

A long, agonizing stare down her long, perfect legs and he was met with her ankles, delicately strapped into some kitten-heeled red leather shoes that matched her dress. Killian could see the tiny, hand-stitched strap around her ankle had recently been loosened to a new hole and the swell of her ankles was most likely to blame, the strap still digging into her flesh in the name of fashion. Also to note, in the name of fashion, was that she wasn’t wearing a bra, the shape of her breasts and swell of her cleavage adding to Killian’s already inebriated state.

With a panic, he spun back around until he was facing his distorted reflection in the curve of a half emptied spirit bottle hanging in the bars optics. His head was spinning, his eyes struggling to focus on anything, and his hands splayed out, sweaty palms heating the surface beneath them as he took one, two, three deep breaths in an attempt to ground himself to the bar. To anything really. For so long Killian had an idea of what he wanted to say to Emma if they ever saw each other again, but now, as he lifted his head and caught her reflection staring back at him through the optics before him, it all disappeared.

“You’re here,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the beat of the music. “David said you would be here.”

Killian narrowed his eyes, finally turning to look at her as she planted herself down on the stool next to his. A little shorter, she had to hop up onto the plush material, but when she finally stopped moving, blurry around the edges from his alcohol intake, Killian opened his mouth but no words came out. He was at a loss for words, still not believing what his eyes were seeing. Emma Swan, here, next to him, after six months of dead ends and runarounds, she was real and just how he had remembered her. Perfect.

“Don’t be angry with Dave,” Emma said finally, waving the barman off with a shake of her head when he eagerly approached her. “He only did what I’d asked.”

“I tried to find you,” Killian slurred. The emotion was clear in his voice, as was the shock.

“I know,” Emma soothed, placing her hand over his on the bar surface. “I just-,” she began but Killian silenced her when his other hand landed over the top of hers.

“Emma, are you alright?”

His words were so simple and yet, Emma had no simple answer to his question. She knew it held a million meanings as well as a million more questions about what had happened to her in the last six months, but none of them was easy to answer, especially in a hotel bar during a work conference. She wasn’t even surprised by his compassion, even if he was drunk but more that he even had an ounce of it for her after what she had done. After she had run away from the conflict in her heart rather than face it head-on and accept that she was at peace with what it was trying to steer her towards. Killian.

“Killian, I’m so sorry,” Emma blurted out, pulling her hand from his. “You don’t deserve anything I have to offer as an excuse for how I treated you.” She got up to leave, tears pooling at her eyelids as she hopped off the stool and attempted to navigate her way to the exit, her heart crushing a little bit more in her chest when she felt Killian’s fingers wrap around her wrist.

“Emma, wait,” he pleaded, bumping into someone but ignoring the glare they gave him when she turned around to look at him. “Please, just…” Killian began through ground teeth, his inner self screaming at him to give Emma what she wanted, to let her go and possibly never see her again, whilst his heart told him to keep her in his grasp a little longer. He looked up, their eyes meeting finally, a clash of darkened blue and muted green expressing everything they needed to know about the other at that moment. Holding her gaze he softened his grip on her wrist a little.

Standing still in a room full of merry people, another person bumped into them and Emma was jostled forward and into his arms. Killian wasted no time wrapping his tattooed arms around her, holding her like it was the most familiar thing to him in the entire world and the colour that crept over both their cheeks was almost the same shade as Emma’s dress.

“Come back to my room,” Killian asked on another plea. “Just to talk,” he clarified when Emma gave him a strange, questioning glance.

She nodded, giving him a quick, soft smile as she peeled herself from his body and righted herself back on unsteady feet. Her heels were killing her, and she had only been in them for two hours, the mingling and greeting people who were paid way more than she ever would adding to her ire. Killian offered her his hand, reaching behind himself and pulling his jacket from the bar stool before he did, and she took it, settling her fingers across his palm like a warmth he had missed on a winter's day.

“Just to talk,” Emma agreed and fell into step behind him.

Silence. That was all that was between them as they made their way across the lobby of the hotel and stood at the elevator, waiting for it to reach them. It wasn’t awkward, or uncomfortable, but when Emma had slipped her hand from his as they had come to a halt, Killian tried to ignore his rationale telling him it was a bad omen, an indication of what was to come, when in reality she had just done so to press the call button. His mind swirled, everything about her sending his brain into overdrive, questions forming on the tip of his tongue and threatening to escape, and it didn’t stop when the elevator arrived at the lobby with a chime and they stepped inside.

They were the only ones there, the metal box creaking under their combined weight when he reached over and pressed the number for his floor. The round button lit up and the doors slid closed with a clunk, the elevator dropping a little as it reset its destination and was pulled upwards by the pulley cable hidden above them. There was no music, not even the cheesy instrumental music that sometimes came with elevators, and Killian was thankful because his curiosity got the better of him and without warning, he hit the emergency stop button and the elevator ground to a sudden stop.

“Killian!” Emma screeched, losing her balance and falling hard against the back wall.

“I’m sorry, love,” Killian said sincerely, rushing to her side and catching her before she had time to twist her ankle. He held her up, clutching her elbows and allowing her a few seconds to right her dress until he was sure she was okay and then stepped back out of her space.

Emma looked up at him, and when she brushed her perfectly curled hair out of her face, Killian saw through her exterior, inside, where she kept all of her emotions, her love, hidden away from everyone. Everyone except him. He had always been able to see into her soul, effortlessly scale the walls surrounding her heart, and now that they were no longer in the bar, he could see pain. It had dulled the vibrancy of her eyes, paled her skin to an eerie white and when her eyes clouded with tears, it wasn’t just because she might have hurt herself against the wall.

“Stop,” Emma huffed.

“Stop what, love?” Killian asked softly.

“Stop looking at me like that.” She waved an accusatory hand in his direction. “Like I have answers.”

Killian licked his lips nervously. “Emma, I’m not going to stand here and pretend I don’t have questions because you know I do, but I can’t let you go. Not again.”

“Killian,” Emma breathed, her voice low and cracking in the back of her throat as she looked away. “You’re drunk and a lot has changed in six months.” Her words stung like a wasp, stabbing him in the heart at the sudden realisation she was right. “Holding me in an elevator won’t change any of that.”

“Is there-,” he began with hesitation but to his relief, she shook her head as if reading his mind.

“No one else,” she confirmed gently with a sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Than what did you mean?” Killian frowned.

“Nothing,” Emma mumbled, hiding her face in her hands.

“In my experience, when a woman says ‘nothing’, it is rarely nothing.” Killian moved to lean against his side of the elevator, hands gripping the brass bar, and gave her a small smile when she dropped her hands and looked up at his words. It was a hopeful smile that she had tried to resist once and failed, and it gave her pause.

“Are you happy?” She asked him suddenly.

“Are you?” Killian countered.

“I asked you first,” Emma said defiantly.

Again, Killian licked his bottom lip nervously and began worrying the flesh with his teeth. He let his head roll back until it collided with the wall, bright lights blinding him from the ceiling, a burning sting in the back of his eye that he ignored as he contemplated her question. He knew the answer, and she probably knew the answer, given how vehemently he had tried to find her, but she wanted to hear it, and maybe, in a strange coincidence, so did he. Saying it out loud made it real, justified his feelings, cementing them and putting them out there for her to see.

“No,” he croaked, rolling his head forward again when the light in his eyes became too much. “I’m not. I thought seeing you again would fix me, give me a closure that I know only you can provide, but it’s gone horribly against my favour, and now, with you here, all I have in my mind is more questions than before.” Killian swallowed, catching her eyes as they shifted to his throat and back up to his. “All I want is for you to be happy, it’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, Emma. You know that right?”

She nodded but her head barely moved.

“And you can call me drunk, or whatever you think I have become, but there is one thing I know I most definitely am, and that is lost.” Killian pushed himself off of the wall and the elevator rattled in the shaft, swaying from side to side as he took a step towards her. “I’m lost without you, Emma, each and every day we have been apart, and do you know why?”

She shook her head, eyes darting to his lips and an expectant blush creeping over her neck and chest. Killian took one more step, within reaching distance and her breath caught in her throat.

“I’ve lost the best part of me.” He swallowed and took a breath. “You will always be the best of me, love.”

Killian reached out and with a steady hand, tucked a stray tendril of Emma’s hair behind her ear, a delicately caressed her cheek with his palm. His fingertips brushed her skin and she let her eyes fall closed, her entire body surrendering to the tiniest of touches, her shoulders sagging and her skin itching with anticipation. She thought he would kiss her, expected to feel his lips on hers at any second, but when he didn’t, she opened her eyes with a flutter and felt Killian pull his hand away.

He let his hand linger a little at the side of her face, stroking the apple of her cheek with the pad of his thumb, slightly roughened by the nature of his profession, but no less soothing to her skin. Emma had yearned for his touch since the day she had left, but so many things kept her from seeking him out or allowing him to find her, and before she could contain it, her life had spiralled out of control and all she could do was carry on running.

They were broken, incomplete without the other, and without saying a single word, they both knew it.

“I need to show you something,” Emma said with a slight cough to clear the emotion from her throat. “But not here,” she added, flicking her eyes to the emergency stop button behind him. “My office. Next door, in the hospital.”

The short walk to the hospital next door took more time that Emma would have liked. Obediently, Killian followed her at a respectful two or three paces, her heels clicking against the pavement as she hurried through the cold of the evening. It whipped at her skin, her shoulders now covered by her evening coat, but her legs still open to the elements. It caused all of her skin to burn with instant heat as her hairs stood to attention in an attempt to trap warmth, but her freshly shaven legs were no match for the chill, and so Emma rushed between buildings to avoid it.

They entered via a side door to the emergency department, the safest options considering it had recently become a building site, and still, Killian kept on her heels. They made their way down a narrow hall, obviously halved by the construction, through some free flowing clear tarpaulin hanging from some scaffolding, and then through another door at the end of the hall. The floor was littered with dust and bits of stonework from the renovation and it stuck to Killian’s shoes as the warmth of his feet made the outer leather humid now, attracting the dirt like honey to flies.

“This isn’t the part where you kill me, is it?” he joked as he ducked under another tarp.

“Just taking you the back way,” Emma laughed, motioning him to follow with a wave of her hand as she reached another door. It looked more like how a door in a hospital should, white with a tiny porthole window and a keypad to one side. Emma took her keycard from her purse and swiped it over the scanner on top of the manual keypad, the light turning from red to green and a click signalling the release mechanism for the door. “Come on," Emma coaxed as she pulled the door, holding it ajar for him.

Killian stepped after her and was immediately hit with the warmth of the hospital. Outside had become a lot colder than was usual for this time of year, but he figured it was because they were in New York. The second thing he noticed was the lighting. It was dimmed to almost darkness in both directions except for a nurses station at the one end of the hall, and beyond some double doors in the other direction. Before he had time to ask her where they were, Emma laced her fingers with his and gently tugged him after her down the silent hallway.

“Is this part of the hospital closed for work too?” Killian asked, peaking into darkened rooms as they walked.

“No,” Emma told him. “The lights are like this for the patients.”

Killian wasn’t sure what she meant until they arrived at a huge window pane that separated them from another room that seemed to be in complete darkness apart from a few patches of light that were spread out in no particular order. A nurse was in there, he could see that, flitting between the patients at a snail's pace, checking charts and monitoring them, jotting down figures on her clipboard every so often. He hadn’t noticed at first, but Killian soon discovered that the dim lights were because ‘the patients’ were in fact babies and they were standing outside of the ward that looked after all premature and ill babies that required specialist care.

“I come here to think,” Emma told him without turning from the glass. “It’s quiet and peaceful. My escape.”

Killian watched her profile, David’s words coming back to him in a flood of sadness.

The baby is gone.

“It shouldn’t be,” Emma continued. “So quiet, I mean. All of these babies should be screaming their lungs out for their mothers.”

Her words trailed off a little and she sighed, breaking Killian’s heart in two. If things were different, maybe even half as different, then Emma would never have to stand here and wonder what it would be like to be a mother. She wouldn’t have to watch tiny, transparent skinned babies fight the hardest battle they ever would, clinging to life behind a perspex case that kept them warm and in some cases, breathed for them.

“Are you allowed up here?” Killian whispered to her as he ran his hand down her arm and held onto her elbow. He gave it a small squeeze, drawing her attention to him and Emma turned to him in the darkened hallway and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Do you remember what you said to me the night of the storm?” She asked him in a hushed tone, ignoring his question. When Killian gave her a confused look, she continued. “You said, ‘Dave’s always right’, and I believed you. I believed him when he suggested I would be happier coming home to New York.”

“You were miserable in Storybrooke,” Killian said gently and Emma nodded.

“But I was miserable here too,” Emma told him, turning back towards the glass. “I had nothing, no one and then…”

“I’m so sorry.” Killian swallowed hard, petrified for her reaction. He’d done so much research into the subject of miscarriage following David’s words, scoured the internet in search of support groups for mothers and fathers, so in the event he ever saw Emma again, he would know what to say. Except now that she was here, he couldn’t find anything but an apology.

Emma looked over to him, giving him a warm smile that was enough of acceptance that he smiled back, but the next words out of her mouth sent his relief plummeting to the bottom of his stomach and beyond like a rock tossed into a deep lake.

“I can’t have children ever again,” she shrugged but Killian saw her bottom lip quiver. “That’s what I meant when I said a lot has changed.”

“Emma, I don’t care about that, all I care about is-,” Killian began hopefully, but she silenced him by holding up her open hand.

“Please, let me finish,” she begged and Killian nodded, clamping his jaw shut. She turned to face him, the tear lines marking her face as she blinked and a new wave of emotion took over her. “I’m sorry I left, and I’m sorry I was such a coward. I love you. I love you so much and there is no excuse for the way I treated you, Killian, and maybe if I hadn’t...” Emma looked down to her feet, a sob escaping her throat when Killian hooked a crooked finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to his. “How can I ever ask you to forgive me?”

Killian almost didn’t recognise the person in front of him anymore, a meek shell of the woman he had once known. Who would have kicked his arse not six months ago with her sass alone. Here she was now, pale faced and weary, tired lines and dark circles under her eyes telling him that he could, without any sort of doubt, forgive her, whatever they had been through. This wasn’t just her second chance, it was his too.

“Emma, love,” Killian said softly before pulling her into his embrace and tightening his hold around her. He pressed his lips to the crown of her head and exhaled hard, the warmth of her against him like a home he had missed. “I’ll always forgive you.”

Killian had stayed in New York after the conference and David had let him. Killian didn’t care if it was through his guilt or because his sister had told him to say yes, but either way, he was thankful for David’s decision to let him and Emma mend. They had taken it slowly like they should have done from the start, and over the few weeks they spent together, they found more joy in being around each other than either of them cared to admit. It wasn’t just the small glances and loving touches here and there, but every moment they spent together resonated with such love that it took their relationship onto a new level.

They had loved before, but it was different then, a more physical love that Emma had since admitted she had thrown herself into just to forget the pain of losing her mother. Killian understood completely and felt glad she could share that with him. It didn’t mean he loved her any less, knowing that her intentions were for a one night stand, but it did mean he loved her more knowing that she could admit how much she had missed him.

It meant the world to see her smile now, really smile, for a while at least. They still visited the NICU, often in the late hours of the day after Emma had finished her shifts, and that was when Killian noticed she smiled the least. They had migrated from one side of the glass to the other and both of them had found that the quickened beeps of the machines and lack of adults around gave the room a strangely familiar feel, something they both had accustomed too.

Every once in a while a parent would visit and they would leave the room, continuing to stand on the other side of the glass so they could maintain a little privacy. It crossed Killian's mind once or twice, to ask Emma exactly why the NICU was somewhere she felt calm, but he didn't push the subject, considering what had happened to her. Maybe she just felt safe there and he wished more than anything he could make her feel the same way again.

"Did we break up?" Killian asked with a cheeky smile, one that he knew Emma wouldn't be able to resist. When she looked up from the chart in her hand, after skimming over the notes of this particular baby, she gave him a narrowed glare. "I mean, you didn't explicitly say in your note," he teased, biting his tongue.

"Well, you flew off to a third world country to build orphanages and schools," Emma countered, replacing the baby's chart on the railing at the end of the cubicle it was asleep in.

"Ah, but I never wanted to go," Killian told her with a raised brow.

"But you did," Emma said flatly, the corners of her mouth ticking up into a smirk.

"If you'd needed me, I would have been on the first available flight back, you know that."

Killian's words changed the mood a little and Emma looked away from him, her smile fading. The truth of the matter was that she had needed him, at the worst possible time, but she wasn't sure how to contact him, let alone explain what had happened. That and the details were not something she wanted to dwell on alone, each day reminded of such with her visits to the NICU. They had become much easier since Killian's decision to stay, but we're still so hard.

"Are you alright, love?" Killian's voice shook her back to reality and when Emma opened her eyes after a few clarifying blinks, he was standing in front of her and his soft fingertips were brushing the skin behind her ear as he toyed with the hair there. "I didn't mean-"

"I'm sorry," Emma said shakily, her gaze dropping between them. "I'm just having a rough day."

"Anything I can do?" Killian offered, dipping his head to catch her eyes once more.

Emma smiled, short and warm, but ultimately shook her head. "You know, some of these kids are hundreds of miles from their parents," she sighed. "We are a specialist hospital, and some people just can't commute to visit their sick babies." Killian watched as she traced the outline of a baby's face through the perspex window, her eyes full of sadness. “I don’t know if I could be that far away knowing my child was that sick.”

“Me neither,” Killian agreed.

“Really?” Emma didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but her voice had obviously betrayed her when Killian leaned back in his chair and cocked his head to one side.

“Of course,” Killian insisted in earnest. “There wouldn’t be a thing on this earth that could keep me from my child.”

Emma had no response before the baby in front of them stirred, scrunching his little chubby cheeks and dislodging his nasal breathing tube. It made him cry out as the tape tugged at his cheeks, pulling against the skin that was already paper thin, causing the squeak of discomfort. It was minute, almost inaudible over the sounds of the machines, but without even a prompt Killian was on his feet and at the babe’s side, fingers pressed eagerly to the perspex as he tried to calculate the answer to the baby’s problem.

“It’s okay,” Emma’s voice soothed, and Killian looked up to see she had moved to the other side of the cubicle now. Two tiny portholes into where the baby was sleeping were popped open silently, and in slipped her hands, righting the little boy’s breathing tube so it was back in his nostrils. He let out another high pitched sound that seemed to take all of his energy, his whole chest expanding with the force of it. “I know, I know,” Emma whispered again and Killian watched her with nothing but awe.

The baby boy fussed some more, clenching his tiny hands and stretching his legs out as far as they would go, which wasn’t very far as his tiny temporary home was only as long as an average laptop. Discontent raged inside his plastic home until Emma laid her hand over his tiny chest, and the baby stilled instantly with a content sigh.

“It’s the skin contact,” Emma said in a hushed voice and even though she could feel Killian watching her, she didn’t look away from the baby boy under her palm. When she was happy that the tot had relaxed, she looked up and met his eyes over the top of the incubator. “You want to try?”

“Me?” Killian frowned. “I-,”

"Take off your shirt," Emma instructed with a nod. "And sit back down."

For a moment, Killian was stunned by her demand but also a little intrigued. He had heard of the benefits of skin to skin contact with infants but judging by the way the tot had stilled under Emma's hand, he wasn't so convinced his skin would have anything more beneficial.

"Maybe if I-"

"Just take off your shirt, Killian," Emma teased with a soft smile. "I know what's under there already, and there isn't anyone else around."

"What about him?" Killian smirked, holding her eye contact as he nudged his head towards the incubator. He tugged at the shirt, pulling it over the back of his head and not missing the way Emma's eyes roamed over his now exposed torso.

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind at all,” Emma smiled as he sat back into to chair behind him. “And besides,” she began, popping the clips that held the incubator closed. “This little guy doesn’t care if you are his mommy or his daddy.” Carefully, she lifted the baby from his bed with little fuss, his tiny body limp in her grasp, before navigating back towards Killian, mindful of the breathing tube newly attached to the tot’s face. “He just cares that you are warm,” Emma whispered as she positioned the baby so he was comfortable atop Killian’s inked skin.

Killian froze for a second, unsure of how to hold a baby, let alone a newborn that had clearly arrived way too early. The baby moved a little, unsure of his newly appointed sleeping position until Emma turned his little head so his cheek was flush with Killian’s chest, and his breathing tube was swept aside over Killian’s shoulder. Emma tucked his little legs up until he resembled a small ball of flesh and grabbed Killian’s hand and placed it under the tot’s backside.

“Just relax,” Emma told Killian in a hushed voice. “He’ll relax when you do.”

She took a step back, content with how she had placed the baby, and after one last feeble attempt to voice his concerns, he was still. He was too small to lift his hat covered head but that didn’t stop Killian from instinctively clutching the boy to him in case he managed to wiggle sideways when he felt the tot stiffen.

“See, you’re a natural,” Emma praised in a whisper.

Killian looked up at her for a second, a beaming smile on his face. “I always thought all kids would hate me,” Killian confessed, turning his head to the newborn again. He inhaled the smell of him, a sweet but sour milk tinged scent that he found had an almost calming influence on him as he breathed him in and craned his neck to watch the baby sleep. “Guess I was wrong,” Killian whispered against the baby’s blue hat, lowing his voice in an effort to hear the baby breathing.

“Why would you think that?” Emma tilted her head to one side, shifting her weight onto one hip.

Killian shrugged one shoulder and his fingers idled with stroking the baby’s toes. “Most adults hate me,” he said softly.

“I don’t,” Emma assured him. She moved closer and when Killian lifted his head she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, letting them linger for a few seconds before pulling away.

“What was that for?” Killian asked with a grin. “Not that I am complaining,” he smirked with an arched eyebrow.

“Nothing.” Emma smiled that happy smile again, one he had missed so much. “I just feel happy.”

“Only because I took my shirt off,” Killian teased.

“You got me,” Emma said dramatically, rolling her eyes.

The baby wriggled, tiny fingers gripping at chest hair as he snuggled harder against the planes of Killian’s chest. Killian could feel his heartbeat thumping his own skin at a million miles an hour and with a gentle cooing, he managed to soothe the tot back into a state of stillness.

“Does he have a name?” Killian asked absently, watching the baby sigh. “Or do I just call you wiggly baby?” His voice turned into something he didn’t even recognize but wasn’t ashamed of, high pitched but low enough that it wouldn’t spook the baby.

“Not yet,” Emma told him with a shake of her head. “His mother wanted to wait for his father before she chose, but she had no idea when she would see him again.”

Killian pursed his lips and his brow furrowed in confusion as he again craned his neck to take in the little boy sleeping sounding over his heartbeat. “That seems unfair that you don’t have a name yet,” he told the baby gently. “Who knows when you’ll be named now.”

“What would you call him?” Emma grabbed one of the chairs nearby and with short, slow tugs pulled it towards where Killian was sitting. She sat down, leaning her head on her hands before she reached out and stroked a finger down the baby’s downy haired back. “I’ve always thought he looked like a David.”

“How unfortunate for you, wee one,” Killian cooed and Emma stifled a small giggle at his words. “Hmm,” Killian hummed in contemplation and he joined her in stroking the baby’s back. “I’ve always imagined calling a little boy Liam, after my brother, so I’ve never given any other name much thought.” Killian gave the baby another look, watching as his mouth moved with a delicate sucking motion. “Maybe he looks like a Liam David?” He suggested.

“Yeah, that suits him,” Emma agreed.

“Maybe you could suggest that to his mother?” Killian asked eagerly. Whether he liked to admit it or not, he had somehow become attached to the wee babe over the last few weeks he had been visiting with Emma. More than any of the others. He had watched him grow stronger each day, more determined than any of the other babies on the ward to be free of the apparatus that helped him survive, and Killian had developed a rapport with him. He felt like he knew the baby like they had met in a past life, and he did, in a strange way, remind Killian of his brother. “I mean, It’s better than ‘baby nine’,” Killian scoffed.

A sniffing sound caught his attention and Killian looked up to see Emma crying, red faced and watery eyed, her bottom lip quivering just enough for him to notice. She swallowed what seemed to be a huge gulp of emotion, frantically wiping at her eyes and trying her hardest to clear her throat with a small cough that instantly filled him with even more worry. Killian’s heart beat faster with concern and were it not for the premature baby in his arms, he would have bundled her up in his grasp faster than it took for her fat tears roll down her cheeks.

“Emma, what’s wrong?” Killian asked quickly. “Are you alright?”

Emma waved him off with a flick of her wrist and a nod, wiping away at yet more tears with the back of her hand.

“What happened? Did I say something-,”

“It’s just my hormones,” Emma said weakly. “The doctor said they would take a while to get back to normal.”

“I don’t believe you,” Killian said firmly, staring at her until she looked up at him, and when she did, she began crying once more. “Emma, talk to me,” he pleaded.

It was all he could do whilst holding a tiny baby, but he wanted more than anything to hold her in his arms. He knew something was wrong and no amount of words would make it right.

“Emma, please,” he continued. “I hate to see you cry, love. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” Emma whimpered, sniffing. “Nothing is wrong at all.”

Killian gave her a sympathetic look, his head lolling to one side as she sought out some tissue to wipe her nose. Stuck to the spot with the baby in his arms, Killian was helpless to intervene, instead relegated to wait for her return with nothing but his nerves as company. When she finally did return, after what felt like ages, Killian looked over her face for any sign of an answer but instead just found the stains of her tears.

“When Dave said the baby was gone, how did you feel?” Emma croaked.

“Broken,” Killian said without missing a beat. “Like I had lost something more precious to me than anything else in the world, apart from you, of course.” He smiled sweetly and was glad when Emma returned his gesture. “And I hurt. I hurt for you and for us, even if there wasn’t a us anymore.”

“All I wanted was for you to be by my side, and then Dave said you had gone, and I didn’t know how to reach you to tell you.” Emma moved closer, unable to stop herself from dragging her hand across his shoulders as she circled him.

“I know now,” Killian offered, arching his back into her when she draped her body over his and nuzzled her face into the side of his.

“You don’t,” she whispered into his ear, immediately hiding her face under the scruff of his beard. Her hand joined his on the back of the baby and she let her thumb smooth over his. “Killian, I never miscarried,” she whispered, her voice a little lighter than before. She reached down his inked chest and traced the outline of the cheeks of the fragile baby in Killian’s arms. “This is our son.”

Our son. Their son. His son.

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but the second they did, a weight that he hadn’t even noticed was lifted. Killian felt okay, more than that, he felt elated. Beyond wondering how, because at that moment he really didn’t care, Killian felt wonderment and love like he had never before. The tiny baby in his arms was his, small but mighty, strong and tough, a fighter through and through, and it didn’t matter to Killian how on earth he had come into the world because his only fatherly concern at that moment was keeping him safe.

“But Dave said,-” he began, pale faced and prickly heat spreading over his shoulders and neck, but Emma cut him off.

“Dave didn’t mean he had died, just that I had gone back to New York,” Emma told him in a hurry.

“I just believed ‘gone’ meant something had happened and Dave never told me otherwise,” Killian told her.

“This isn’t Dave’s fault. So much was going on, and he was so worried about me, he just let you make your own assumptions. He’s hated keeping this from you, Killian, he really has.” Emma sighed, the emotion choking her in the back of her throat. “He loves you like a brother you know.”

“Of course, love,” Killian nodded with a smile as he instinctively rubbed his hand over the baby’s back. “I feel no ill towards him.”

Emma physically sagged, her shoulders relaxing with Killian’s confirmation that he and Dave would be okay. Things had exactly happened the way she had wanted them too, but Emma knew she would never be able to live the rest of her life knowing that the father of her child and brother were enemies, especially as she would have been the cause of their dispute. Killian’s words were enough, but when he gave her a proud, wide eyed smile, she knew for certain that her life would be just fine.

“I have a son,” Killian laughed out in disbelief. He rose to his feet, baby in arms, and gave her the widest grin Emma had ever seen. “We have a son!”

“He was born too soon,” Emma began emotionally, grabbing his face in her hands and wiping away Killian’s tears as she spoke. “I wanted to call you, to tell you how much of an idiot I had been to run, but then I went into labour and the doctors couldn't stop him from coming, and in the rush all I could remember was Dave’s number and he told me you were on your way to build the orphanages and-,”

Killian cut her off with a kiss, cupping her face in his free hand and ending her rant the only way he knew how. Her lips trembled against his but he didn’t let her go until he felt all of the tension leave her, the muscles in her jaw relaxing and her mouth opening to invite his tongue inside. There was no haste in the kiss, just passion, Emma pouring her apology into it and Killian accepting every last silent word without a single hesitation. They parted, neither wanting to let go as they rested their foreheads together, their tiny son between them in a cocoon of love and warmth, the only things the boy would ever know.

“I love you,” Killian whispered in a gravelly voice. His fingertips stroked her face, coaxing any residual tension from her body with the delicateness of his touch. “Nothing will ever change that.”

“I love you too,” Emma murmured through a smile, grabbing his hand and clutching it to her face.

“All that matters now is that I’m going to be there for you, and this little guy, for as long as you’ll have me.” Killian tucked some of her hair behind her ear, the strands coarser than he remembered them, but no less beautiful. “Does forever sound alright to you?”

Emma coughed out a laugh, nodding her head against his. “Forever sounds perfect.”

#cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #fragments of home #foh #chapter 13 #epilogue #architect!Killian #doctor!emma

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thejollyroger-writer · 5 years

Text

Odd Choice of Dying Words

Summary: Based on this post. Emma is reminded of a terrible first date. Thankfully, her bartender has a son who would be the perfect fit for her.

Tagging: @thesschesthair @winterbythesea @distant-rose @shireness-says @kmomof4

Also on AO3!

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” she mumbles, running one hand through her hair while the other manages to not slam her phone down on the bar hard enough to shatter it. She was enjoying her night alone, slowly sipping on her second glass of whiskey while she scrolled through Instagram when the notification popped up: “New email: Walsh Oz. Subject: Notes from Our Date, 9 February 2019”

At first, she wasn’t going to open it. Honestly, she didn’t even remember Walsh at first, just another meaningless name added to the list of incredibly shitty dates she’d been on in the last few months. She’s not sure what it is about her that seems to draw in assholes recently.

Okay, not recently. Her whole damn life, actually. Never, once, has she been in a relationship with a decent man, and the one person she thought was decent turned out to be the worst of them all.

That’s the last place her head needs to be right now, she tells herself.

Looking down at the words on her phone once more, she finishes the rest of the glass and sets it down on the bar, perhaps a little harder than she anticipated, and she doesn’t fail to notice that she’s caught the attention of the bartender, a rough-looking older man with short grey hair, a trimmed grey mustache, and a dot on his right cheek that Emma originally thought was a mole, but has since realized is a small black heart tattoo.

“Another?” he asks, and she knows the answer should be no, but there is something about the man’s sweet smile that makes her say yes. When he comes back with the bottle, giving her a bit more than a single shot, he leans against the bar, his still-toned forearm pressed against the shining marble. “Something the matter, sweetheart?”

She shouldn’t tell him. There is absolutely no reason that she should burden this wonderful older man with her problems. But sitting here, drawing her refilled glass back into her hand, that’s exactly what she wants to do. She taps the edge of the glass against the bar a few times, pursing her lips for a moment before she turns her eyes back up to the bartender.

“A few weeks ago, I went on this date with this total idiot that I met online, his name was Walsh. He was the rudest man I’ve ever met, the worst conversationalist, and it became the absolute worst date I have ever been on. So bad that I completely forgot about it, until about three minutes ago, when the bastard emailed me a list of things I did wrong on the worst date of my life.”

He raises his eyebrows at her, in absolute disbelief of her words, and she sets her phone down on the bar to show him. He does not read the whole thing, but enough to get the point, his eyes wide with incredulity when they turn back up to her. “Darling, this man is an insolent sniveling pup and I hope you ignore every single word on this email,” he says, then smiles at her again.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, pulling her phone back across the bar, and when the bartender walks away, she is so distracted by the words on her screen that she doesn’t realize he has pulled out his phone and is quickly typing out a message on it, peering at her out of the corner of his eye.

The night passes slowly, the minutes ticking away as songs blasting out of the crackling speakers. Emma has finished her third glass and has moved on to her fourth when she feels someone slide into the seat beside her, the seat that has somehow managed to remain empty throughout the night. Was she just that unappealing, that no one wanted to sit next to her, even in a packed bar? Was it her resting bitch face?

“Rough night, love?” he asks, his voice low and thick with an accent.

Not your love. The words are on the tip of her tongue, her mouth open to say them, but when she turns and looks at the man that has taken a seat next to her, her words stop dead in their tracks. Because there, sitting next to her at the bar, is the most beautiful man she has ever seen. She’s half-tempted to reach out and touch him, make sure that he is real, but when he cocks his eyebrow in response to her silence and her agape expression, she knows that there is no way that he could have come from her imagination. She’s simply just not that good.

“Uh, yeah,” she chokes out finally, choosing this moment to take a sip from her glass only to realize that her hands have started shaking.

“In need of someone to complain to?”

She should say no, turn him away, tell him to find someone who might actually be interested in him. But she raises her eyes and meets those of the bartender, delivering a drink to the man next to her, and he winks at her, a soft smile on his face — for some reason, the bartender brought this gorgeous man to her, and he has never let her down so far.

“As a matter of fact,” she says softly, turning on the barstool to face him. “Since you offered, I do have a few things I’d like to get off my chest.”

He takes a long sip of his drink, and for a moment, Emma thinks he might regret his decision to become acquainted with her, but when he sets his glass down and the bar and turns his full attention towards her, all worry melts away.

“Hit me, love.”

She takes a deep breath, then does exactly that: “A few weeks ago, I went on the absolute worst date of my life. All he did the whole time was talk about himself, save a few questions that I was absolutely not going to answer on a first date. He was an absolute cheapskate, ordered a side salad and a water, then got mad at me when I offered to pay for my own meal. It was terrible, the worst night of my life, and there have been more than enough awful dates. And I forgot about it completely, not even caring to think about Walsh anymore.”

She pauses for a moment, taking another sip of her drink, and she does not fail to notice that his eyes are wide with interest. His blue, blue eyes, a color so piercing that it cannot possibly be natural.

“Until earlier tonight, when he had the audacity to email me a list of things I could have done better during our date, including my wardrobe, my lack of make-up, and my dinner choice.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” she replies, pulling the email back up on her phone before setting it on the bar between them. “Here, read it in its entirety. It’s terribly poetic, an excellent way to make someone want to go on a second date with you.”

As he reads through it, Emma does the same, overcome by another wave of anger by it as she does so.

Hello, Emma.

A few weeks ago, you and I went on a date, and I figured you were wondering why you hadn’t heard from me yet, so I would like to explain. There were a few things you did on the date that I didn’t much appreciate, and while I apologize if any of them offend you, I think I should let you know what you did wrong.

Your natural dark hair would look so much better with your facial structure, especially if you grew it out more. Long hair is much sexier

You have such a great body but you wore jeans and a leather jacket? That was a huge turn-off for me

Your face would have looked much nicer if you used a little bit of make-up. Just a little cover-up, some concealer, some color. Just so I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you.

You seemed a little unsure of yourself the whole night, you should learn to be more confident. Confidence is sexy!

You ordered a burger. I shouldn’t even need to explain this one, it was just unappetising to watch you eat and you could have gone without that many calories

Diet Coke would have been a much better choice as well

You kept ignoring my questions, I know you said you didn’t want to talk about your life but I didn’t expect you to avoid talking at all

You think I didn’t see you roll your eyes while I was talking? That was incredibly rude

Even though I told you all about my job and how much money I make you still offered to pay, like you didn’t think I was capable of it, and it made me feel like shit

I tried to compliment you so many times and you didn’t try to return them even once

Not to mention I made so many jokes and you didn’t laugh at a single one.

Not only wouldn’t you kiss me, but you jumped back every time I so much as touched you, which tore a large hole in my ego. If you’re going out with someone you should at least let them touch you

But you also wouldn’t even give me a kiss at the end of the night. I thought we were doing well before that but you really made me question whether I wanted to see you again

I will give you a month to take these into account and decide whether you can become the right woman for me. I hope you take these all into consideration in the future.

- Walsh

He is silent for a moment, most likely trying to come up with some sort of response, and the one that he finds does not disappoint.

“Odd choice of dying words,” he says, a radiant smile spreading across his face.

While Emma understands what he means, she still wants to know why this is what he decided to comment with. “What?”

“Well, obviously, you’re an incredible woman and a bit of a fighter, and if I were you, I would find that absolute tosser and beat the daylights out of him.”

“I appreciate that compliment, but I think the best plan of action is to just stay here and drink until I forget about him again.”

“Would you like a companion?” he asks, and when she turns to him, she is ready to tell him that he is under no obligation to stay here with her. But there is something about the smile on his face and the sparkle in his blue eyes that stops her words again.

“I would really appreciate that, actually,” she says, a smile of her own growing across her lips. “I’m Emma.”

“Nice to meet you, darling. I’m Killian Jones.”

The night passes as they continue to chat with each other, recalling memories of other bad dates, but Walsh takes the cake — even compared to the woman who asked Killian to come home with her, only to remember as she unlocks her front door that she’s married and has a family. But the end of the night approaches much faster than either of them anticipate, and before they know it, the bartender is announcing last call, only a few patrons left at their seats.

Emma’s face falls, honestly not ready for the night to end, but Killian just smiles at her, winking as he pushes his barstool away from the counter. “No worries, love. I have an in.”

Emma has absolutely no idea what he means, but watches as he makes his way around the bar, kissing the bartender on the cheek before grabbing one of the rags. “Hey, pa, I’ll take it from here.”

The man wraps his arm around Killian’s shoulders, squeezing him against him.

“Thanks, son. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take a seat here next to this lovely lady.” When Emma realizes that he is talking about her, she blushes softly, not for the first time that night. The older man smiles widely at her before removing his apron and hanging it on a hook on the wall, coming around the front of the bar to take a seat next to her as Killian begins to sweep behind the bar.

“I’m Teddy, by the way. I’m hoping that my son provided much better company than that dolt that emailed you earlier.”

Emma can’t help but smile in return.

“Did you tell him to come to the bar tonight?”

“You looked like you could use some company, sweetheart, and he’s the only cavalry I have left. I’m hoping that he proved himself to be the perfect gentleman.”

It may have been the glasses of whiskey that she’s been slowly downing all night, or the sincerity in the man’s eyes, or some mixture of both, but Emma leans closer to Teddy and mutters in his ear, “I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better.”

When he turns to face her, his eyes are wide with excitement. “Is that so?”

Taking another sip from her glass, she nods at Teddy, smiling at him again, and she realizes that she does not want the night to end.

So it doesn't. Killian offers to walk her back to her apartment, just a few blocks away, and before he can even ask her out on their first date, a joke about making sure it's not the worst of her life on the tip of his tongue, Emma reaches out and grabs him by his leather jacket, pressing her lips against his.

It is, without a doubt, the best first kiss of her life, simultaneously soft and passionate, and much like that night, she doesn't want it to end.

When they pull away from each other, it is only enough to keep their foreheads against each other.

“Come upstairs with me,” she breathes, at the same time he says, “Go out with me.”

“Okay,” she responds, noticing that he does not respond right away.

“Emma,” he whispers after a moment, raising his hand to press his palm against her cheek. “I don't — I don't want to rush this.”

“I've never met anyone like you, Killian,” she says, snaking her arms around his neck, his hands warm against her face and her hip, even through her jacket. “We weren't even on a date and it was one of the best dates I've ever been on.” She leans into his palm.

“Are you sure, love?” His expression is so serious, so caring, that it sends a chill through Emma's body.

“I've never been so sure about anything,” she says softly, smiling at him, and he returns it. “Make sure to thank your dad for me, too.”

#cs ff #captain swan #cs fics #my writing #wordsbymeganmichael #crackship #fathership #daddy shakespeare #i have no idea how to tag this??

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spartanguard · 5 years

Note

Happy Valentine's Day, love!! Hope I'm not too late to request some - ⚡️ - person a and b get into a fight before valentine’s, and both spend the entire day trying to make up with each other. (obv I'm walking into slight angst territory here but I trust you!)

Well, this took me all day. But here it is! It’s not TOO angsty ;)

⚡️ - person a and b get into a fight before valentine’s, and both spend the entire day trying to make up with each other.

canon insert | rated T | 2.2k | valentine’s day prompts

Emma had been looking forward to Valentine’s Day, which was still something she was getting used to, but in the good way. She’d never take for granted the fact that she had someone to celebrate it with forever—someone who was particularly prone to grand romantic gestures, even if she’d told him she didn’t need or want anything over the top.

(She was kind of hoping they’d have another little someone to share the day with, since Henry had left a few months ago and the house was feeling much too empty, but...no luck there yet.)

But her anticipation was replaced with apprehension when she came downstairs that morning, festively dressed in her red leather jacket, only to find Killian sneaking in the back door, head down.

“Hey, what were you doing out there?”

“Um, taking out the trash,” he lied, avoiding her gaze as he moved toward the coffee pot.

“You wanna try that again?”

“Don’t worry about it, love.”

Her mind flashed back to the time he was keeping the shears of fate in the shed out back, and then the situation with the dreamcatcher. They’d moved past both of those, and she trusted him, but something just felt...off. It wasn’t like him to keep anything from her anymore.

“What if I want to worry about it?” she countered, stepping toward him as he poked at buttons on the machine without getting anywhere.

“Is a man not allowed to keep anything hidden around here?” he threw back, just a hint of anger in his voice. “I promise you, Emma—it’s nothing.” I’ll…” he trailed off, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Why are you being so evasive?” Tired of him toying with the coffee pot, she reached over and turned it on.

He tossed his head back, exasperated, and sighed. “I’m not; you’re the one seeing danger where there is none.”

“Well it’s nice that you’re able to not constantly be on guard. Sorry I can’t just shut it off like you can.” Not waiting for his reaction, she stormed off.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

“Apparently, someone has to keep an eye on this town. I’m headed to work; I’ll see you later.”

She kind of didn’t care if the door slammed behind her. What the hell was he doing?

Killian gave a long, low exhale after the door crashed shut. It wasn’t the first meaningless, random spat they’d had lately; they were both anxious for their family to grow, and perhaps subconsciously, their lack of success in that area was getting to both of them.

He hadn’t meant to be short with her, but all he was doing was trying to keep her away from one of the Valentine’s surprises he’d prepared; surely, that wasn’t worth jumping down his throat?

But they both had a long history of betrayal, even between each other, even if they’d progressed far beyond that point. He couldn’t completely fault her suspicion. Still—it stung.

The coffee pot beeped as the brew finished, with one final gurgle that echoed in the silence of the room. Reluctantly, he pulled a mug from a cabinet and poured himself a cup, but then he realized: Emma didn’t have any yet. Or, judging from the untouched box of Pop Tarts on the counter, anything to eat.

She may have said she was going to work, but he knew she wouldn’t get that far without sustenance, so there was only one place she could be headed.

He dug his phone from his rear pocket, pulled up the number, and dialed.

Emma’s anger had cooled a bit on the walk to Granny’s—probably in proportion to her growing hunger and need for caffeine. She really hadn’t meant to go off on him like that; it was probably nothing. Maybe she was just more stressed than she thought? Or maybe just hangry.

The smell of coffee and maple syrup hit Emma as soon as she opened the door to the diner and her mouth was watering.

Emma had barely sat down at the counter when Granny was in front of her, setting down a plate in front of her. “One order of pancakes, with bacon on the side, for Mrs. Swan-Jones,” she announced. “And the coffee is almost done.”

“Thanks,” Emma replied, slightly stunned. “Am I just that predictable now?”

“Eh,” Granny shrugged. “I had warning you were on the way.”

Emma slumped over her breakfast a bit. “He called?”

“Yep. You two fight or something?”

“Yeah, something,” Emma sighed as she cut into the stack of pancakes. “It’s dumb.”

“So I take it he’s not going to be joining you?”

“No, probably not,” she answered. Granny slid over a mug of fresh coffee; Emma took a long gulp, even with it still being hot. “But...can you help me doing something for him?”

“Of course, darlin’.”

After a brief stop at the station, managing to slip in and out before Emma got in, Killian made his way to the docks. The weather was going to be dry enough to get some work done on the ship this week, and with today being unseasonably warm, he decided this would be the perfect time to start. He just needed to double-check some measurements before he bought new sailcloth and rope for rigging first.

That, and working with his hands would give him some more time to calm down from their tiff—or distract himself from his shame at losing his temper.

He wandered up to the quarterdeck when he got to the ship and was about to re-inspect the section where the ropes were getting worn, but before he could get there, a bundle sitting on the helm caught his attention.

Tied up with bright red ribbon was a hefty length of rope and what looked to be the exact cut of cloth he needed. A tag was hanging from the knot of the ribbon; it looked a bit watery, as if it had been laying outside overnight and was mottled by the morning dew. But in unmistakeable handwriting, it said “You put the wind in my sails. Happy Valentine’s!

He reached into his jacket pocket; sure enough, the notes he’d made with rough measurements listed was gone—but this looked like more than enough for what he needed. Perhaps he needed some lessons from Emma on being sneaky—though he certainly had a few surprises up his sleeve for later.

For now, he had to get to work, if only so he could get to those faster.

Emma couldn’t say she was looking forward to a day of working on her own, but Valentine’s was usually quiet enough that they’d decided to just have one person in today, and she knew how much Killian wanted to make those repairs on his ship. She just really hoped those notes of his were right; she’d erred on the side of caution and bought more when she hit the supply shop yesterday.

Hopefully, he was enjoying himself there; she probably would be bored out of her mind in the empty station, but she couldn’t begrudge him the nice day to be by the sea, especially if they needed a bit of time apart, as they apparently did.

She unlocked the front door and shuffled in like always, flipping on the light to the bullpen and then her office once she slipped inside.

The light overhead shined down like a spotlight onto her desk—or, rather, what was on it: a huge, gorgeous bouquet of roses in a stunning glass vase. Her jaw dropped.

Almost cautiously, she stepped toward them—this was still Storybrooke, after all. She plucked the card that was tucked into the center of the arrangement and was immediately awash in the light, powdery fragrance they gave off—there had to be close to three dozen stems there.

The card bore her name on the front in Killian’s flourishing handwriting. On the other side, he’d written “I gave you one of these on our first date; I’ve done a poor job of keeping up the tradition. Hopefully this covers it and then some. All my love, Killian.”

How had she found such a perfect romantic sap? She stuck her whole face in the flowers then, almost getting high on the scent. She caught a tiny whiff of something slightly musty, too, but familiar.

It smelled like the storage shed. Shit. She’d practically attacked him for trying to hide what he’d clearly intended to be a surprise. God, she was an asshole. She had to make this up to him. She had a few things planned...but what else could she do?

A few hours later, Killian was halfway up the rigging, setting up new lines, when a voice called out.

“Ahoy! Permission to board?”

He nearly jumped at the sound, which would have resulted in a rather unpleasant fall were his reflexes not still trained to grab the nearest piece of rope at the slightest jolt. But it was just Granny.

“Of course, milady,” he shouted back, then carefully made his way back to semi-solid ground. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“To your wife,” she replied, holding out a take-out bag. He could smell the onion rings from here. “She figured you’d be working too hard to remember lunch and wanted to make sure you ate.”

He took the bag from her; scrawled in Emma’s hand, on the top of the bag, was “Sorry :( I love you!”

“You kids alright?” Granny asked, concern evident in her voice. “I don’t like being the go-between.”

“We’ll be just fine, I think,” he said softly as he opened the bag, the familiar shape of a burger wrapped in foil inside. “As much as we appreciate your services, I don’t think they’ll be required much longer.”

“I hope so. If you two can’t make it, what hope is there for the rest of us?”

He had to admit, that kind of sentiment was a bit draining—that everyone only saw them through the lens of “True Love,” and not as a real relationship. But he daren’t admit that to Granny. Instead, he smirked and tossed back, “Why, Madame Lucas—aren’t the lovers lining up at your threshold?”

“Ha. Very funny. Eat up, and don’t break your neck. I’ve got a lunch rush to get back to.” She turned to head away, but he caught the pink blush rising on her cheeks.

Oh, his darling wife; however was he going to make up for the muck he’d made this morning?

As it turned out, they both seemed determined to apologize through various gestures throughout the day, both preplanned and spur of the moment.

At the same time he was discovering a fifth of his favorite rum in the ship’s galley—to go with his burger, of course—Emma found the recently replenished stash of her favorite hazelnut coffee (the good stuff) in the coffee cabinet at the station.

On his way home from the ship, he arranged to have a hot chocolate and bearclaw delivered to her from her favorite cafe in town (don’t tell Granny); upon arrival at the house, a delivery boy from the ice cream shop was dropping off a pint of his favorite flavor, rum raisin.

And then, around dinner time, Killian walked up to the house armed with their favorite dishes from the local Chinese restaurant—just as Emma was pulling up in the bug, laden with their favorite pizzas.

“Hi,” they both said, somewhat awkwardly, staring at the carry-out in the other’s hands. Then they looked up at each other and giggled.

“Shall we?” Killian said, nodding at the door.

“Let’s.”

Seamlessly moving around each other—like always—they set up the food on the kitchen counter, Emma got out the dishes, and Killian uncorked the wine they’d been saving for tonight.

He’d just opened the bottle, and she had just set the plates down, when they turned to face each other and blurted out simultaneously, “I’m sorry.”

“No, love, you have nothing—”

“Oh, don’t even; I’m the one who—”

“Emma—”

“Killian—”

They took in a breath at the same moment, then instinctively moved together, wrapping the other one up in a bruising hug.

“I’m sorry I got needlessly suspicious and defensive,” Emma said, voice muffled a bit by the way her face was pressed against Killian’s chest.

“And I’m sorry that I was cagey and snapped at you; it’s inexcusable.”

“I’d have done the same.”

“That’s why we’re true love, aye?”

“Something like that.” Emma lifted her head just enough to find his lips with hers, and press any other apologies into that. “I love you.”

“I love you, too—immeasurably.”

“Show-off.”

He kissed her again, then laid out a decision. “So, we have two options here: dive into this frankly ridiculous amount of food, or take this,” he explained, grabbing her rear end through her jeans, “to a more comfortable locale. Which would you prefer?”

The decision was easy for Emma. “The food will reheat.” And without any further prompting, jumped up to wrap her legs around his waist and reaffix her lips to his.

They continued to make up several more times that night, in various positions, all across their bed.

(And, the following year, they did indeed have someone else to celebrate with—baby Hope.)

#cs ff #cs valentine's day #valentine's day #my ff #effulgentcolors

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 5 years

Text

Taking Back Neverland--Chapter 2 of 10

Pairing: Captain Swan

Rating: G or a soft T

Summary: AU. After actress Emma Swan’s lead role in a popular TV show is at an end, she is offered the leading role in the Regina Mills film, Taking Back Neverland, a fresh retelling of the Peter Pan story. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. Only problem? She’ll be starring opposite Killian Jones, who she positively can’t stand. (Originally part of my Fluffy Fridays collection.)

Previous chapter: (1)

Notes: So this is an old story, originally written about 3 years ago as part of my Fluffy Fridays collection, but @kmomof4 made the amazing above pic-set for it as a birthday gift, (Thanks Krystal! It’s perfect!), and I decided it was time for a reissue. Enjoy!

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

Chapter 2

“You really should check out this script, mate,” Robin said, “it’s bloody perfect for you.”

Killian took a swig of his rum, grinning to himself. “Let me guess…it’s a Regina Mills production?”

Robin grinned back, taking a healthy swig of his beer before continuing. “It may be my fiancée’s current project but that makes it no less perfect for you. I know you don’t have any pressing projects at the moment. What would it hurt to just check it out?”

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Killian said, “what exactly is so perfect about this particular script?”

“It’s got action, adventure, a bit of whimsy, and romance,” Robin answered. “You’d be taking the role of Captain Hook.”

“A villain?”

“Well, perhaps more of a reformed scoundrel,” Robin allowed. “He is the male romantic lead, after all.”

Killian was silent for several moments, warring with himself. The sounds of the bar, The Rabbit Hole, washed over him. Finally, he reached up, scratched at the spot behind his ear and spoke again, refusing to look at his mate.

“You know full well I haven’t taken an action role since…it happened,” he said, taking a fortifying swig of rum. He held up his slightly-atrophied left hand and stared at it in disgust. “Not much place in action movies for a bloke who only has one working hand.”

Robin clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ve been over this. You could act circles around half the leading men in Hollywood right now even with their two hands.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” Killian said under his breath.

He flexed his left hand, the motion weak and taking painfully long, and his mind went back to the accident. The moment his life changed forever. Not only had he lost his love, his Milah in that automobile crash, but his hand had been crushed. After extensive surgeries, the doctors had managed to save the hand (it had been touch and go for a while, the doctors all preparing him for the possibility that amputation may be necessary), but they told him he’d never get more than minimal functionality from it again.

“Well I am,” Robin said bracingly. “And besides. Your disability will be no factor in anything that’s required of you in this particular film. If you’ll recall, Captain Hook came by the name after a crocodile ate his left hand.”

Well, that did provide some interesting possibilities. He couldn’t deny he missed starring in action-heavy roles. They had been his staple before the accident. He’d made quite a name for himself. Since it had happened…well, he’d spent most of his acting time playing the protagonist in rom-coms. He’d been blessed with good looks, and he’d acquired more than his fair share of female fans thanks to those roles, but he hungered for another role of real substance.

“Very well,” Killian said, pushing aside his tumbler of rum and preparing to settle his tab, “I’ll give it a read.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Read it he had, and he’d promptly fallen in love. This was the role of a lifetime. Quite a fresh and imaginative take on the tale of Peter Pan, with Hook the romantic hero and Pan the bloody demon. It hit everything that made a story great—action, adventure, romance, witty dialogue, and the happiest of happy ending (particularly for Captain Hook and the protagonist Anna Swan).

Robin was right; this was a role he simply couldn’t turn down. Truth be told, it was as though the part had been written for him. He saw himself in the resilient fighter Captain Hook was, the melancholy hero who had endured far too much loss in his life.

The theme of a rather lonely little boy reconnecting with his birth mother likewise touched something deep inside. There was something healing in reading about that little boy’s healing—and the way he healed his mother—that soothed (at least in part) the wound Killian carried from his own father’s abandonment so many years ago. True, Anna Swan had given up her infant to give him his best chance while his father had abandoned him and Liam out of nothing but sheer selfishness, but an orphan’s an orphan.

The very next morning, he’d called Regina Mills directly (there were certainly perks to being best mates with the fiancé of one of Hollywood’s biggest directors) and expressed interest in the role. She’d immediately called him in for an audition—a process she’d assured him was nothing but a formality. Killian had made quite a name for himself over the years, and Regina had assured him the part was his for the taking.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

And so it was that two weeks later he found himself striding into the studio for a chemistry test with the female lead, Emma Swan.

He knew very little about his on-screen love interest. He’d caught a few episodes of her television show, but a man can’t very well get a read on a person based solely on her performance as an actress. He could tell that she was bloody gorgeous and had more than her share of talent, but as to the rest? Who was to know?

He fervently hoped they hit it off. As the two of them were scene partners in nearly every scene they were involved with, they would be spending long, grueling hours together over the next few months. Far better to spend that time with someone he genuinely liked than someone who got on his last nerve.

His agent, who insisted he call her Tinker Bell for some unaccountable reason, had playfully suggested maybe the two of them would not only get along, but get along. She’d nudged him, winking playfully, asking if he knew what she meant.

Aye, he knew exactly what she meant, but it wasn’t going to happen. No matter what this Emma Swan may be like, his heart had been broken so definitively it would never be mended again. For the first few years after Milah’s death, he’d buried the pain in rum and passionate nights with as many anonymous women as he could find.

But eventually he realized how utterly empty his life had become. He’d loved Milah with a burning passion, and their life had been good. Losing himself in meaningless encounters with women did nothing to mask the pain, only made him realize how pointless his life had become. Truth be told, he was no longer interested in meaningless sex. If anything, he wished for a real, true, meaningful relationship.

But that ship had sailed when his love had died. No use wishing for something he would never again allow to be his.

The studio door opened, cutting short Killian’s melancholy musings, and then she walked through, and every thought in his head suddenly fled. He knew Emma Swan was beautiful; he’d seen that clear enough when he’d viewed her TV show, but nothing could have prepared him for the punch to the gut seeing her live and in person gave him.

She wore her long, luscious blonde hair in an artfully messy ponytail high on hear head. Her green eyes sparkled. And there was just a certain, indefinable something about being in the same room with her that made him tingle with awareness.

Love at first sight, Tink would have supplied in a sing-song voice. He definitively shoved that thought aside. Where he and Emma Swan were concerned, the only “falling in love” that would happen would be of the on-screen kind.

He took a deep breath and let it out, trying desperately to get ahold of himself. He was going to keep this professional if it killed him. When he finally felt like he could talk to the goddess without making an utter fool of himself, he walked over to her, keeping his expression pleasantly friendly.

“Hello love; my name’s Killian Jones.”

He offered his hand, and she looked at him suspiciously for a moment before taking it and shaking it tentatively. “I’m Emma Swan.”

He smiled at her like an idiot. This whole “remaining professional” business was going to be a fair bit more difficult than he’d expected.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Emma glanced away, desperately needing to put some distance between them. A woman could drown in those blue eyes of his.

No wonder he’s had nearly every woman in a 100-mile radius falling all over themselves over him, she thought to herself. And that was enough to bring back reality. She wasn’t, absolutely wasn’t going to be just another conquest.

So, she straightened, and looked down at the script again while they waited for the casting director (a rather bad-tempered man named Leroy) to signal that they were ready for the chemistry test.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the scene Leroy had pulled out for them to read. She’d been afraid he’d pick the scene—the big, passionate kiss that changed everything for both Anna and Hook (although it took Anna a considerably longer time than Hook to admit it). Stage kiss or not, no way was she ready to lock lips with Killian Jones. She was going to have to psych herself up for that.

Luckily, that wasn’t the scene picked, but one a couple of acts later. This one was all dialogue. Romantic and emotional dialogue, yes, but strictly dialogue none the less. Not even a stray brush of hands in the script for this one.

She’d be fine; just fine.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Leroy said from his seat just beyond the stage. “Haven’t had breakfast yet, and if Granny’s runs out of bacon before I get there, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“I’m quaking in my boots,” Killian said under his breath, only loud enough for Emma to hear.

She smiled in spite of herself. “You should be,” she whispered back. “He looks like he means business.”

“Hey, break it up!” Leroy growled. “Save the flirting for the stage!”

Emma felt her face flame. Leroy thought she was flirting with Killian? Ugh! Making this film was going to be the longest couple of months of her life.

“Right,” Leroy said again with a nod. “So in case you’re not that familiar with the context yet, your scene comes a couple hours after the Echo Caves confession. Hook and Baelfire are both sniffing after Anna and she just wants to get to Henry. Bae just took the cutlass and went off looking for Dark Hollow. And that’s where you two love birds pick it up.”

Emma closed her eyes, pictured the scene to come, imagined the emotions running through Anna at the moment—fear for her son’s safety, a strange mixture of relief and panic at Bae’s return, desire—and maybe the starting of something more—for Hook. She still felt a bit overwhelmed about how much her life had changed over the past few months.

So, sky-high walls. She could do sky-high walls.

Emma opened her eyes and became Anna.

Anna shot Hook a suspicious look, putting her hand out to stop him from stepping past her and following Bae.

“What was that about.”

Hook looked aside, clearly uncomfortable. “I assumed he’d heard my secret. I also assumed you’d told him of our shared moment.”

Of course he’d go there , Anna thought to herself. She rolled her eyes. “Why would you assume that?”

He stepped forward, his deep, deep blue eyes boring into hers and not giving up. Anna felt her heart pound at his nearness. “Because I was hoping it meant something.”

Anna wasn’t going there. She wasn’t going anywhere near there. Best to change the subject. “What meant something was that you told us that Bae was still alive. Thank you. I realize you could have kept Pan’s information to yourself.”

“Why would I have done that?” He sounded as though he genuinely didn’t know the answer.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe Pan offered you a deal. Why else would he tell you?”

“It was a test,” Hook said, his voice softening—even as it shone with sincerity. “He wanted to see if I’d leave an old friend to die, even if the old friend happens to be vying for the same woman I am.”

“And you chose your friend?” Emma let a hint of breathlessness enter her voice.

“Does that surprise you?”

Uh, yeah, it did. “You are a pirate.”

“Yeah, that I am.” Hook looked down, and Anna’s heart twisted at the hint of self-deprecation she saw in the gesture. This guy really was good.

And then he turned on the intensity, and Emma found it difficult to think at all. “But I also believe in good form. So when I win you heart, Anna, and I will win it, it will not be because of any trickery; it will be because you want me.”

He stepped even closer; so close that she could feel his breath against her face. His eyes held hers, shining with sincerity. She felt like a moth in the presence of the flame. She wanted nothing more than to sway into him.

Well why not? Anna’s supposed to be falling in love, isn’t she?

She let her face show how much Hook’s words affected her. She saw his eyes darken in response, and it took way, way more effort than it should to pull back and let Anna try to put some emotional distance between them once again.

“This is not a contest, Hook.”

He gave her no quarter, no lessening of his particular earnestness. “Isn’t it? You’re going to have to choose, Anna; you realize that, don’t you, because neither one of us is going to give up.”

That was way, way too much for her. “The only thing I have to choose is the best way to get my son back.”

He smiled proudly. “And you will.”

Emma knew enough about Anna to know she was not used to anyone putting her first; she wasn’t used to anyone having faith in her. She let a touch of wonder enter her voice. “You think so?”

“I’ve yet to see you fail,” he let his smile turn playful, flirtatious. “And when you do succeed, well, that’s when the fun begins.”

For several moments after the scene wrapped, Emma and Killian continued staring at each other. That was…that was…intense.

She didn’t realize she was effectively staring longingly into Killian Jones’ eyes until Leroy chuckled. “Oh yeah. I don’t think chemistry is going to be any problem between the two of you.”

Emma blinked, and then felt the heat creep up into her cheeks. How was she ever going to survive making this damn movie?

She did what she did best. She stormed away.

“Yeah, well,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away, “what can I say? We’re really, really good actors.”

And she told herself it was the truth. She’d just managed to really get into character; that was all that had happened out there on that stage. It was Anna’s emotions she was feeling, not her own. Not anywhere close to her own.

#cs ff #cs au ff #my fanfiction #taking back neverland #reruns

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years

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Feels Like This (Part 3)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1 Here, Part 2 Here. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! So thank you so much first and foremost for the love you guys have shown this fic. I have been so excited to write this and have been waiting ages to share it all with you. This is the kind of fluff and cuteness I personally need in my life right now, and I know a lot of you probably feel the same. Strap in for my usual dose of CS feels, and yes, for those of you asking, this is the moment CS will meet. Hope you all enjoy and thank you all so much for reading!

“And you’re sure you’ve got everything?” Emma asked, looking at Henry and knowing that he was ready to head into camp. They’d been over this numerous times, and at this point they were already out of the house and in front of the hall where campers congregated every morning. Still, Emma couldn’t help trying to soak up the moment with her kid just a little bit longer, and if that meant running through their list once more, so be it. “You have your lunch?”

“They give us lunch there, Mom.”

“Oh right,” she said, still shocked at how much was provided seeing as this program was free through the University. The children of all faculty and students were allowed to come, and it completely eradicated a need for her to find alternative childcare. Back in the States they had nothing like this built in anywhere. Getting Henry to camp previously either took a funding miracle, an insane amount of luck, or extra shifts at a second job. Usually he stayed with Mrs. H and Emma tried desperately to make it up to their neighbor. But now community sponsored help was becoming a given way of life, and every kid in Montenarro, no matter their background, seemed to have at least one path to a bright and happy summer.

“You’ve got your bag? How about water?”

“Yes and yes. We ran through this already, remember? I told you everything I had while you made breakfast.”

Emma smiled, knowing he was right, as crazy as it sounded. It was wild to her that on a weekday she would have the time, the patience, and the extra bit of cash to afford the spread they ate together today. They had eggs, fruit, bacon, oatmeal and there were fresh pastries if they wanted. It was like their special holiday brunch, which happened on Christmas or on one of their birthdays, but they’d had this or something similar every day for nearly two weeks. It might seem over the top, but between the later starting hours here in Montenarro, her reduced work schedule with a generous stipend, and the fairer prices at the markets, Emma finally felt like she could give her son what he deserved. For years they’d chowed down on discount cereal, and now, in an attempt to enjoy themselves and resemble their new neighbors, they were taking a slower, and far and away more luxurious approach.

“I remember, kid. So I’ll be back here at four, and if I’m a little late -,”

“I just hang out a while longer, I know,” Henry said, looking to the doorway. A grin appeared at his face as he spotted one of his new friends. The other young boy waved in their direction and Henry waved back, causing Emma’s heart to melt. Her son not only had friends here, he was thriving. He was so happy, and seeing him this way made her happy too. “You don’t have to rush, Mom. I know your work ends early now, but maybe you could do something just for yourself.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’d rather stay later?” Emma asked, and Henry looked embarrassed for a moment before nodding.

“Not too much later, but Michael and Talia stay until five, and we’ve got this cool game going that we made up yesterday. It’s kind of hard to explain. But I can come home at four still. It’s okay, I’ll just -,”

“No, no, Henry, I am thrilled that you’re having a good time. I’ll be here at five.”

“Cool! Thanks, Mom!” Henry exclaimed, giving her a quick hug before heading for the door. “See you at five!”

She watched him get in safely, and the director of the camp who she’d met last week wished her a fond hello as she checked in Henry. Her greeting was pleasant and polite, and Emma knew if she had time the woman would talk her ear off about what it was like to be from America or the upcoming summer festivals. As it was though, Emma had to get going. She wasn’t late for work or anything, but she was eager to get there. Her work at the JR foundation was shaping up to be amazing. She was learning a lot, but she already felt like one of the team. Everyone who was there appreciated her, not just for working and helping out, but for her ideas. They were so responsive to suggestions, and always willing to try out any new concepts Emma had only really read about in books.

Their director, Marco, wasn’t like a normal boss. He didn’t hover or micromanage or come across as inaccessible. In fact, despite all the other calls on his time, Marco was with them all helping the kids and participating in their activities as much as he could. That leadership was so amazing in a space like this, and from everything Emma had experienced, the precedent he set was entirely reflective of the culture at large. Every person at the institute was determined to do right by these kids, and the children, despite the sad circumstances surrounding most of their lives, were doing so well and seemed so happy despite it all.

It was only a few city blocks from Henry’s camp to the center, but Emma let herself linger in the walk. She moved more slowly, matching the pace of the people around her, who never seemed to rush, and instead just enjoyed each day as it came. People were always smiling and laughing, and even the fighting was good natured. The streets were bustling but not full. They were cleaned regularly, maintaining the gorgeous cobblestone walks and the beautiful vintage architecture. It was warm here – a quintessential coastal retreat in the Mediterranean that she’d only ever imagined in her dreams or seen on travel TV. Everything considered, it was the opposite of New York, and despite having lived in the city she and Henry called home for more than ten years, Emma had to admit she didn’t miss it… at least not as much as she thought she would.

Don’t get too attached, Emma. This is temporary. Enjoy it while you can, but your real life is nothing like this.

The voice in her head was negative, but had a point, and Emma had no choice but to heed the advice. She would enjoy every bit of this she could, but she couldn’t get too comfortable, otherwise she’d miss this when they left. Even thinking of the heartbreak that may come if Henry continued to love it here so much left her reeling, but Emma carried on, pushing down that worry as she made her way past the institute’s front gates. It was important that she be in the right headspace when walking through these doors. The kids deserved her at 100%, and that was what she planned to be for them. Shaking off the worry from moments ago she moved inside, and as soon as she arrived, she was greeted by the sound of children running and laughing.

Some people might look at this place right now, apparently filled to the brim with kids who were wired and excitable now that it was officially summer and the school term was over, and think that this was chaos, but Emma knew better by now. Every child here ranging in age from six months to sixteen was attended to and accounted for. They had a large brood of kids, with sixty-seven at last count, and this was the biggest home under the JR foundation, though there were half a dozen more around the small country. Many children who were here would eventually be adopted, or would merge into part of a nationally funded fostering program, known for being one of the best systems in the world. In their last two years of school, older children went to special homes or foster placements designed just for them, to give them the attention and time they needed (instead of leaving them to the wayside for the sake of younger, needier children), and to prepare them for life outside of the system. Emma would eventually shadow a center that worked with those young adults, but for now, she was enjoying the hustle and bustle of the general group.

“Look, Char, it’s Emma!” one young boy named Thomas proclaimed to his little sister Charlotte from across the room, and in seconds every child had turned and was excitedly greeting her. Some of them came right up to hug her or give her a high five, but at the very least they all nodded in her direction and chirped out a fond hello.

“Good morning everyone,” Emma said, noticing the bags along the doorway and how the older kids were dressed in a uniform of navy colored shorts and florescent green shirts. “Did I miss something?” Emma asked aloud, not really to anyone in particular, but an answer came from one of the institute’s most trusted sources.

“Flora is taking the older children to the seaside today for a science lesson.”

The woman who filled Emma in was named Elsa, and despite the humidity in the air and the exuberance of the children all around them, she was totally put together and looked completely unstressed. Her hair was tied back in her usual braid, and her turquoise colored summer dress flowed in a way that looked poised for a summer catalogue. Elsa was effortless in an enviable way, but she was so kind and eager to be of help that Emma couldn’t begin to muster jealousy. In a short time Emma had begun to consider Elsa a friend, but though the two of them were roughly the same age, Emma was still a student and Elsa was a fully-fledged child psychologist who lived at the institute full time. She, and her sister Anna, who also worked at the institute, but as an activity’s coordinator, were two peas in a pod, but they’d done everything they could to include Emma and help her get her bearings in this new world.

“Lessons? In the summer?” Emma asked, not surprised that the institute was providing supplementary schooling year-round. She’d seen as much since starting here, but she was more taken aback at how excited these kids looked. Every child aged ten and older was gathered down here, no doubt waiting to fill the two institute vans out back. Still, how fun could a science lesson be?

“We use the term lessons lightly. For the rest of the morning the children will explore the tide pools at the national endowment’s shoreline about an hour north. There are some very unique ecosystems there, and so there is a whole lot to learn. But Flora will have them break for lunch and Anna takes over in the afternoon.”

“What’s she got in store for them?” Emma asked and Elsa shook her head.

“Well I can’t exactly say, as I’ve been sworn to secrecy.” Her smile grew at how silly that sounded, and she looked over her shoulder to check for Anna, but gave a little more when she saw that the coast was clear. “Let’s just say it’s going to be a jam-packed day that will go out with a blaze of glory.”

The emphasis Elsa used on the word ‘blaze’ made Emma think that there would likely be a beachside bonfire included, but before she could get confirmation, things started moving quickly. The older kids were summoned to the shuttles to go out for their day, and Emma meanwhile saw the clock and realized it was time for her to report to Marco’s office to get her assignment for the day. Moving through the playroom and the sunroom, which had the younger children and the babies respectively, she finally found her way and after knocking she walked into the brightly lit hub of all things here at the institute.

“Ah, good morning, Emma,” Marco said with a big smile, waving her in and gesturing that she should take a seat beside one of the other workers at the institute, Marie. Marie was Marco’s second in command, and though she never used the phase herself, the children had taken to calling her Nana. She had a maternal way about her, and every child seemed to love her as they might a favorite grandmother. “You’re here just in time. I’ve been talking with Marie and we think that today would be a perfect opportunity to try one of your intervention measures.”

“Really?” Emma asked, surprised, but excited at the thought. This would be the third that they had tried, and the last two had gone off without a hitch. “Which one?”

“The ‘Music Makes Me…’ one seems like a good choice. We have a few children who, to now, have been less responsive to our normal socializing measures. Their either shy or hurting, and we’re hoping to help them open up. Elsa’s our counselor on shift today and she’s eager to help oversee this. You’ll take the lead, but she’ll be there for any help you might need. We realize it’s a long-term project,” Marco said, looking down at a piece of paper to check his facts. “You wrote here three times a week for eight weeks. Is that right?”

“Yes, sir. Ideally. Positive identity work can start yielding results as soon as three weeks, but the Princeton Psychology Review did a study this winter that showed children’s habit forming reaches its peak effectiveness after the eight-week mark.”

“And this is one of the projects you modeled off of your own parenting experience, correct?” Marco asked as Emma nodded. Her throat grew tight at the genuine emotion behind this tactic, but this was a place with people she trusted not to judge her. As such, she shared what sparked the idea.

“When Henry first started school, he was one of the only kids that wasn’t in a two-parent household. Even the other single parents had some sort of family behind them, like grandparents, aunts and uncles, or other kids. I’m not exactly sure how long he struggled with being different in that way, he’s an independent kid and he kept his pain over that closed in, probably to spare me from being worried. But when his teachers gave me their assessment and told me what they thought was happening, I set something not dissimilar to this up. We tried painting and crafting to express his emotions, but the music seemed to help so much more.”

“It’s really remarkable, the way you’ve melded your experience with your son and your own past in with all of this cutting-edge research. It’s one of the many reasons we’re so thrilled you’re with us this year,” Marie said cheerfully and Emma warmed at the comment. Telling the story of her son’s pain at not having a father, however vague she had kept it, was hard, especially because Emma lay awake many nights wondering if he was missing something fundamental by not having a father. She wondered if it may hurt him in the long run. But she was reassured by the fact that she always did her best for Henry, and that her experience could help not just her son, but the children here who had no present parents at all.

“Given that it’s rather late notice, do you think you can manage? We’ve got a window right now for a few hours. Elsa’s already selected the children who may need the intervention most. She kept it in the 5-8 age range as you suggested.”

Emma immediately assured them that she could pull this together, as the concept was not hard. Basically what this practice/exercise included was playing music that was grounded in emotion. Some that were happy, some more subdued, some fast, and some slow, and encouraging kids to do what they wanted when they heard that. For Henry he’d always loved to run around and dance at the fast-paced songs. Then the slower ones were always more interesting. Sometimes he picked up a favorite toy, drew a picture on the supplies she left out, or created his own little imaginary game. All the while, however, Emma’s job was to engage, support, and ask questions.

The questions always started mildly. What’s your favorite color today? (she’d learned early not to box her son into ultimate favorites). If you could have any snack in the world what would you choose? What animal makes the funniest sound? Then the questions would evolve. Her son, like many kids, was a vivid dreamer and Emma often asked about those night time visions. Sometimes they meant nothing but sometimes they told her a lot. She wanted to include that with these kids, but also include more focused questions to them about how they felt here at the institute, what they felt like when they told people from the outside about living here, and what they dreamed of for the future. She’d always ended each session with Henry in two parts. The first was to ask Henry what his biggest wish was for someone else, and the second was to ask his biggest wish for himself. Kids at his age were filled with wishes and wants, but Emma knew from personal experience, that that may already be flickering away in kids without parents. She’d been seven years old when her hope truly started to fade away, and she believed if she’d had these kind of positive affirmations and people who were working to see her happy and well situated, her relationship with the world and herself would have been much easier.

In the end, Marco, Marie, and Elsa decided that there were five best candidates for today’s intervention. Stella and Timothy were a biological brother and sister who had been at the institute for about a year. They were eight and six, and both of them were doing pretty well despite their parents losing custody of them from continued problems with substance abuse. They were likely moving into a fostering situation by the end of the summer, but they had been here a bit longer than normal because they were bonded together and making that accommodation took patience and the right placement. According to Elsa, Stella’s teachers a few times had mentioned her shyness, especially when people brought up her home life. Malek was a seven-year-old boy from a similar situation, though his father was in the process of getting clean for his son. The institute was always cautious for replacement with parents who struggled, but if his father could demonstrate stability and stay clean a full year, the legal system would grant him custody again. Malek, understandably, had mixed feelings about going back, and Emma wanted to try and help him with those through this process. Carlos, meanwhile, was a rambunctious six-year-old who had been given up at birth. He was shaped by his status as an orphan, and had a few close adoption calls that ultimately fell through. Luckily, though, a new family with sincere interest and the means to take care of him was stepping up, and they had exactly eight weeks before the system would process their filing for adoption, a perfect amount of time to help Carlos with some of these image issues before he settled into his new home.

The final child in Emma’s care today, however, was Cecilia, or as the other children called her, ‘CeeCee.’ Cecelia was a newcomer to the institute, and at just barely five years old, she was the youngest in Emma’s group today. She was quiet and withdrawn, but given her background that was all to be expected. At such a young age Cecelia had already been through so much. When she was two her parents had tragically passed in a car accident, and she’d moved in with her grandmother. Her grandmother was loving and did everything she could for her, but she was in poor health, and was now in need of care herself. Emma wasn’t here on the day that Cecelia came to the foundation, but Elsa had mentioned it with tears in her eyes a few days prior.

“I’ve seen so much heartbreak in this job, but watching that little girl realize she was being left behind… It was awful. She cried so quietly and for so long. It took us weeks to get her to say anything at all.”

Even now Cecelia was always quiet. She’d blended in a bit more with the other children, but she wasn’t particularly bonded to any of them. She had grown to be more trusting of the adults, but not in a really promising way. With Emma she’d always been sweet and well-tempered, but Emma hoped that this process might help her, and might get her to a place where she could be better socialized and cared for. The next few hours proved to be even more promising than Emma dared to hope. All five children not only had fun, but made good steps towards progress. They all confided a little bit in Emma and Elsa, and they all responded well to the method. When Emma asked them if they’d like to do this again in a few days, all five of them were thrilled, and little Cecelia, who was normally so shy, was the biggest shock of all. Over the course of the few hours she’d opened up so much to Emma, and by the end of the session she was holding Emma’s hand tightly, intent on going with her through her day. Emma was so happy to see this little girl doing so much better, and she had to admit she was invested in this child, perhaps more than any other she’d met so far at the institute.

“Do you think it’s all right?” Emma asked, motioning downwards, but not saying everything aloud. The last thing she wanted was for Cecelia to not feel wanted when she’d made such tremendous progress, but she was worried about what might happen if she grew too attached.

“This happens sometimes. Kids have a sense for safe spaces. She was already responding really well to you before,” Elsa said, crouching down and waving at Cecelia, sharing a soft compliment for the toy rabbit she was carrying with her today, which made the little girl smile and chirp out a gentle ‘Thank You.’ Even that little show of gratitude and the genuine smile was an improvement, and Emma felt a burst of pride seeing this young girl come out of her shell. “We’ll keep an eye on it, but I think it’s best to see where it goes. She’s showing no signs of dependency, and hopefully you’ll be the perfect gateway for her to let the rest of us in.”

Emma hoped that Elsa was right, and as everyone in the center gathered for lunch, Cecelia stayed close by. Emma did her best to stay attentive to all of the kids who choose to eat with her today, but she also wanted to lead this lost little girl towards others who may be her friends. She was making good progress with another five-year-old named Ava, who was eager to be friendlier with Cecelia, when Marie approached, appearing frazzled and a little shaken.

“Is everything all right?” Emma asked, careful to keep her words calm and her tone even so as not to scare the kids. Her instincts were that something bad must be happening, but Marie shook her head, quickly dispelling her of that notion.

“Everything is wonderful, dear. We just have an unexpected visitor – actually I guess visitor is the wrong word. He’ll be staying on here for a while to work with us all. It’s a bit unexpected, but I dare say it’ll prove a delight in the end, for us and for the children.”

“Who is it that’s coming?” Emma asked, and Marie looked poised to blurt something out, but then caught herself and weighed her words carefully.

“One of the members of the family who run the foundation.”

Emma now began to understand the sudden rise in stress. Whatever JR stood for, and whichever family it was that could afford to spend so much on these resources, they must be both terribly rich and powerful. Being so new here, Emma didn’t know any background about the endowment, but she hoped that whoever was coming would be a help and not a hindrance. Surely they’d come here and see how much good work was being accomplished. She hated to think they’d be coming to make cuts or roll back funding.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Emma asked and Marie shook her head.

“Oh no dear. You’re doing a wonderful job. This isn’t an assessment of any kind. I believe it’s a genuine act of charity. You see he’s been in the military, and now he’s come home. His family’s no doubt pushing him towards some kind of occupation, and he’s chosen this as his pursuit.”

Emma wanted to ask more, about if this mystery man had any experience with kids or why, even if he was so very rich, Marie displayed school-girlish enthusiasm at his coming, but the older woman moved on to handle something else. Instead Emma waved Elsa over and asked her if she knew the man who was coming.

“Of course I do, everyone knows him,” Elsa said, thoroughly adamant that this stranger was of some notoriety. Then her features softened and she took on a thoughtful expression. “Well I suppose we know of him. We’ve never met, you see. But it’s impossible not to know him.”

Emma nodded, but she was still somewhat surprised. To this point she hadn’t gathered a sense that the family who ran the endowment was exceedingly involved in the day to day of the center. But then again, Elsa had been here far longer than her, and so she probably needed to keep track of the important players who were their most generous donors. Emma could have remained hung up on the strangeness of it all, but instead her mind wandered to the few details she did know. He was a military man, newly home, and he was coming here to make a difference. She thought about that and what that meant, and she found that she already liked him, or at least his attitude. Serving in the armed forces meant a life of service – to come home from that and still want to help others was admirable, and she hoped it would provide a good role model for the children, no matter what his actual child life background might be.

From the window in the great hall where all of the children and staff took their meals, they could all see down the back drive where a second entrance to the center was located. At that moment three black SUVs began their ascent, and the children’s attention immediately perked up as they ran to the windows. Emma felt the growing anticipation at the new arrival, and she wondered why there would need to be three SUVs. It reminded her of the protective details that sometimes came in the city, when big time politicians made their way to city hall where she worked for some sort of meeting or photo op. But what would be the reason for such a display today? Why would anyone need one of those when coming to a children’s center? It was hard to grasp, but then she questioned her instinct. The men who exited from the vehicles weren’t in high profile suits. They were more casually dressed, just like any workers here at the center. She wasn’t able to see all of them, but soon enough there were voices in the hall. Marco and Marie greeted the newcomer, and Emma only caught a snippet of the conversation.

“We’re thrilled to have you here, Sir.”

“Killian, please.”

“Killian. Right, sorry. That may take getting used to.”

“Not a problem. We have time.”

Emma was caught up in the sound of the new voice. It was distant, but even from here she felt an impact at the gravel in the tone and the lilt of the accent. It washed over her, sparking a sizzling sensation that was foreign to her, and after weeks in this country she’d always found the accent pleasing, but never responded like this. She found herself wanting to know what this man looked like, to see what kind of appearance could go with a voice that enticing, but she was getting ahead of herself. What did it matter what he looked like? He was going to be a coworker, right? This was hardly the time or place to be interested in someone. Still her stomach swooped with the tell-tale flutter of butterflies and she shifted in her seat. The action, along with the new voice in the hall, sparked something in Cecelia to change from comfortable to tense. The young girl grabbed at Emma’s shirt, latching on for a sense of perceived safety. Emma’s heart reached out to this poor, sweet girl, and she took her hand gently, trying to assure her as swiftly as she could.

“It’s all right, honey. You’re safe here. I promise.”

“I don’t like strangers,” Cecelia said and Emma tried not to get misty eyed at the sense of uncertainty this little girl held so tight.

“I was a stranger once, wasn’t I?” Emma asked and Cecelia considered that before nodding.

“But you’re nice to me. You read us stories and play us music. You’re my most favorite friend.”

“And you are my friend too, honey. So let’s wait and see what kind of person he is before we decide if we like him, okay? You never know – he could be your favorite too.”

Cecelia looked skeptical but ultimately agreed, and Emma was glad to have that sorted. She had been so focused on curtailing Cecelia’s worry that she forgot where they were. Now she noticed everyone else was standing, children and staff alike, so she helped Cecelia down from her seat and stood up herself. The sounds of people walking in played out around her, but Emma took a moment to make sure her young charge was settled before looking back up. She patted Cecelia’s hair and brushed her full brown curls from her face, with care. Only then did she look up. But when she did, she never could have expected what would happen.

As her eyes took in the stranger, their gazes met, and she was struck by a sense of recognition and realization that she’d never felt before. Something clicked for her in that moment, in the first few seconds of their seeing each other, and her awareness grew stronger and stronger. So much bubbled up to the surface, emotions and feelings and desire and interest. It was like something was opened within her, and she felt drawn into this man and unable to resist. This stranger had blue eyes, intense but warm all at once, piercing in a way that they seemed like she knew them and they knew her. Instinctively she looked to the rest of him - Killian he said his name was - but it didn’t help her sense of disorientation. His face was remarkable, strong and sure. His hair was dark, and his figure was no doubt honed for the expectations of his years of military service. She felt herself taking him all in, and then caught herself and thought about what a scene she was making. This wasn’t appropriate. Oggling this man just because he was hot – okay more than hot, he was… god was it lame to say perfect – oh Christ she was doing it again. She needed to stop, but when she looked up at him, she caught him doing the same thing to her. It was incredible to feel his interest, and for a moment it was like the world stopped spinning so the two of them could find each other.

Find each other? Jesus, Emma, get a grip. The thought ran through her head as Marco began to address them all.

“Everyone, this is our newest friend here at the institute, Killian.”

“You’re big,” a boy named Seamus called out, unceremoniously and for a beat Marco and Marie looked concerned, but Killian only laughed.

“You should see my brother.”

“Is he coming too?” Marie asked, looking like she might actually be done in by the news.

“No, ma’am,” Killian said with a small smile and Marie let out a sigh of relief. What was that about?

“Why do you stand so straight?” another boy asked and Killian explained.

“I was in the royal navy.” This was met by a chorus of oohs and aahs, from the girls and boys alike.

“Are you a good person?” someone asked, and only after a moment did Emma realize it was Cecelia. She was shocked at the display of bravery from her little companion, but then that was compounded by Killian’s movement towards them. He split his looks between Cecelia and her, but when he approached he crouched down so as to be eye level with the little girl.

“What’s your name, little one?”

“Cecelia.”

“Cecelia. That’s a beautiful name,” he said honestly and Cecelia swayed side to side a bit with the compliment. “Now as for your question, I certainly try to be good.”

“But you’re a stranger,” Cecelia said, looking at him with a furrowed brow, as if this was some kind of simple math he should understand.

“For now I am. But not forever, I hope.”

“My Emma was a stranger too. She’s a good person. Are you like my Emma?”

Now Killian rose to full height and he addressed Emma as much as he did Cecelia. “I do like her.” Emma’s heart skipped and then she watched his face shift in embarrassment as he realized what he said. “I mean I hope I’m like her, lass. But only time will tell.”

“Miss Emma, does time talk?” Cecelia asked and Emma bit her lip to keep from laughing as her eyes caught Killian’s again.

“No, honey. It’s an expression. It means that with a little bit of time you will know if he’s a good person. You just have to be patient.”

The look Killian gave her in that moment was packed with so much. Gratitude, interest, and something more. There was a charge between them that she just couldn’t deny, and she could tell he felt it too. But before he could say anymore, Marco called everyone’s attention again.

“Anyone have any ideas as to how we should welcome Killian?” he asked and a chorus of answers came flooding in.

“I know! I know! We should show him our giving tree.”

“No! We should show him our playground!”

“I want to show him my pirate ship!”

“We should feed him the turnovers Cook makes. She hides them in a secret spot but I know where they are!”

“Well that all sounds brilliant, especially the turnovers. Why don’t we do all of it?” Killian asked, before looking to Marco who nodded readily. The kids looked excited, and were eager to go, but before things got too crazy, Killian looked back at Emma and grinned.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Emma.”

And with that, and with so much swag and sexiness it made her a little dizzy, this mysterious new man set off, throwing himself into the deep end with these kids, and showing them all that he could hold as own, just as surely as he could hold her attention.

Post-Note: So there we have it! I know, I know, you’re probably mad I kept their meeting so short and waited until the very end, but next chapter I am planning to include this first meeting from Killian’s POV. This story, as much as any of my stories can, has a bit of a slower build, because there are a lot of elements I really want to include, but I promise there’s plenty of fluff in store and a lot of cuteness that yet to come. Thank you all so much for reading, and I really hope you’ll leave a comment or a review. I’d love to see what you all think and what you’d like to see going forward in this new fic. Anyway, I will do my best to update soon (probably next weekend), but in the meantime I hope you’re all well, safe, and happy in this uncertain time!

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