#captain hook fanfic

[ciaoteamo]

Lost Girl

pairings: Captain James Hook x f!reader

summary: Following Pan with your siblings has either got to be the best or worst idea you've had yet.

(A/N): this is how long every story with a part 2 would be if i didn't break them up😅 a request from my DM's, enjoy :) also i didn't spell check so bare with me pls

warnings: 18+ content

further warning: dirty talk, breast kink, pet names, creampie

It was one of the more warm nights in London. And there was the perfect cool breeze make your curtain dance gracefully.

You'd decided to open your window for a while and enjoy the sound of nature. You definitely needed the peace after playing with the younger kids all day.

You were the oldest of the bunch and only had your own room because your father practically kicked you out of the nursery. You were upset initially, but it wasn't as if you'd left your home.

Your eyes were growing heavy, and the noise arounnd you was lulling you into your dreamland. That was however until you hear...

THUMP...

THUMP...

CRASH!

You quickly sat up from your bed and rush out of your room and up to your siblings room.

You swing the door open with fret and your jaw drops with what you saw.

"what in the world is going on in here?" You look frantically left and right, trying to take in the scene.

Toy's were absolutely everywhere. Your father, on the ground, seemingly looking stressed and angry. Your mother, dressed beautifully for their evening out, and Nana balled in the corner of the room.

Everyone (excluding father) rushed over to Nana, showering the poor dog in hugs and kisses.

"poor Nana?!" Your father asks in disbelief. "this is the last straw, OUT! OUT I SAY" He came over and grabbed Nana by her collar, dragging her out of the room without another word.

Your mother shook her head in disappointment and looked over at you.

"(Y/N), could you help me tuck in the little ones?" She starts to tuck Wendy in. You assist her, tucking in your brothers and adding extra blankets in case they got cold.

Your mother talks to you all for a bit and goes to close the window, Wendy speaks up before she could lock it.

"oh, don't lock it, mother! He might come back!"

"him?!" Your mother raises an eyebrow and you chuckle.

"peter pan! see, i found something that belongs to him.."

"oh? and what's that?"

"his shadow"

"shadow?"

"mm, Nana had it. but i... i took it away" Wendy yawns out.

"oh? yes, of course... goodnight dear" Your mother retreats out of the door, you say goodnight aloud as well but when you go to leave, she places a hand on your arm.

"(Y/N) dear, could you please keep an eye on the children for me? With Nana being outside, i'll feel uneasy without you in here" She places a hand on your cheek.

"as long as you bring back my favorite sweets" You smile. She chuckles and kisses your cheek.

"i promise, dear. see you tomorrow" She gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze and rushes down the hall to your impatient father. You close the door and slip into Michael's bed since he was the smallest.

You close your eyes and tuck yourself in well, drifting off into slumber.

You wake when you hear music from the nursery music box playing.

"tink! shh!" You hear someone whisper before the music stops. Your heart starts thumping. You stay still not knowing what to do. Why did you mother leave the window unlocked? This could be a burglar.

You flinch at the sound of a thud a decide to finally sit up. A boy in green was fighting someone... or something?"

The fight however stopped and the boy was turned around and tending to something on his shoe. How in the world could you possibly sneak the children out?

Maybe you could strike him over the head with a -

"Peter Pan!" You hear Wendy say. You and the boy snap your heads toward her. That's when he finally noticed and realized you were in the room.

The boy look terrified of Wendy as she scrambled towards him. This was your first time ever seeing this Peter Pan that your siblings always wanted you to read about.

Does this mean Santa is real?

Peter was speechless, hurriedly rubbing what look like soap on his foot.

"you cant stick it on with soap, peter!" Wendy took the soap and turned on the lamp. "it needs sewing, thats the proper way to do it"

You close your eyes and take a moment to blink, just to grasp the situation at hand for a moment.

Wendy was still talking Peters ear off, and sewing his literal shadow to his shoe.

"girls talk too much" He cut into her story.

"yes, girls talk too m-... oh." Her smile fades at the realization. You gently toss the covers off of you and walk towards the two.

"excuse me boy, why are you in our house? and Wendy, this is a stranger, you know better!"

"oh but (Y/N), this is Peter. from our stories!" Wendy halts her sewing and shoves a book into your arms. You open it and see the poor handwriting and green boy on practically every page.

"this can't be..." You say to yourself in shock.

"no, this still doesn’t explain why you're here?" You frown your eyebrows.

"for my shadow of course! the dog jumped at me while i was in the window and grabbed it"

"well, what were you doing at the window?" You and Wendy ask in sync.

"i was listening to your stories?"

"but all of our stories are about you" Wendy replied. Which was true. You were 3 years older than Wendy, making you an adult now. But you never did stop reading and creating new stories for your siblings.

You never thought those stories were true though, you just heard of the story of Peter Pan and made your own bedtime stories from there.

"of course! thats why i like em, i tell em to the lost boys" He nodded and began to play some sort of small instrument.

"the lost boys?... oh! i remember, they’re your men!" Wendy says and makes the last stitch.

"uh-huh" Peter jumps up and looks at his shadow on the wall.

"i'm so glad you came back tonight. i might never have seen you"

"why?" He asks, still making goofy gestures.

"because i have to grow up tomorrow"

"grow up!?" He whips around.

"tonights my last night in the nursery" Wendy says with a sad look.

"oh Wendy, maybe father doesn't mean it. I didn't leave until i was 14" You add.

"no, i'm sure of it. father never breaks his promises, good or bad."

"you're right... well it won't be so bad, me and you sharing a room" You try to make her feel better.

"i guess you’re right..."

"so that means... no more stories?" Peter asks.

"mhm" Wendy hummed, on the verge of tears.

"no! i wont have it" Peter exclaims. "come on" He grabs her hand and starts to pull her toward the door.

"wait a second! she isn't going anywhere with a strange boy!" You tug Wendy toward you.

"He's not strange, he's Peter Pan! And that would be wonderful but... what would mother say?" She contemplated.

"mother? what mother?" Peter crossed his legs.

"a mother is someone to cares for you and loves you and tells you stories and nurture-"

"great! you can be our mother" He grabs her again but she stops on the window seat.

"well i'd have to pack and get changed and leave a note.. and i can't stay for too long and then i'll have to... oh but it's Neverland" Wendy smiles and turns.

"oh, i'm so happy, i think i'll give you a kiss"

"what's a..a kiss?" Peter asks.

"i'll show you" Wendy starts to walk toward him and you grab her.

"oh no you don't" Shimmering dust rapidly flew around and you start swatting.

"Tink, stop!" Peter says, using his hat as a net to catch the fast speck.

"John, John! wake up, he's here!" Michael says excitedly and crawls out of bed.

"huh...?" John gets up and puts on his glasses and gasps loudly. "jiminy!"

"what in the world was that?" Wendy asks, holding her hear and looking around.

"i think it was a bug of some sort" You answer, not too sure of it yourself.

"Tinker Bell. Don't know what got into her" He says, peeking into his hat and examining whatever it was inside.

"hello Peter Pan, i'm Michael!"

"and my name is John, how do you do?"

"hello" Peter greets.

"oh! look a firefly" Michael opens the hat

"a pixie!" Wendy corrects him.

"amazing!" John adds.

"i haven't gotten you're name yet!" Peter leans in your direction. You were standing closer to see this Tinker Bell.

"(Y/N)" You simply say.

The fairy shakes her head and makes bell noises, raising question in Michael. "what's she doing?" He asks.

"talking"

"what did she say?" Wendy asks.

"she says you're a big ugly girl" He chuckles and she laughs along before realizing. "oh... well i think she's lovely" Wendy compliments to the angry creature.

"well come on Wendy, let's go!" Peter walks toward the window and Michael grabs Wendy's hand.

"where are we going? He asks.

"to Never Land! Peter's taking us"

"Us?!" You and Peter ask in unison.

"Wendy, we’re not going anywhere with this boy!"

"but how could i go without you all?"

"when i said "we" i meant we" You point to all of your siblings.

"(Y/N), please!" Michael begs, tugging onto your night gown.

"i'm sorry, Michael, no" You sigh.

"just think about it a little, (Y/N), it could be fun!" John urges.

"or dangerous! i can't risk it"

"(Y/N), it's my last night in the nursery... you remember what that was like! please come with us, it'll only be for a short while, right Peter?"

"sure thing!"

As if you needed any reassurance from Peter. If anything he almost ruined her resolve. But she was right. You remember having to leave behind your siblings and grow up, it was no fun.

You at least would like them to have a fond childhood memory.

And that's exactly why you’re flying hundreds if not thousands of feet up in the air. The view of the morning was beautiful, the sky was pink and the water was still.

"oh Peter it's just as i dreamed it's be... oh look, John there's Mermaid Lagoon!" Wendy exclaimed.

"by Jove! and the Indian encampment !"

"oh look! there Captain Hook and the pirates!" Michael pointed our cheerfully.

A canon fires and Peter tosses Michael behind to save him.

"look out!" He ducks. "Tink, you take them to the hideout and i'll draw off Hooks fire!" Tink pouts and starts to fly ahead.

You all quickly rush to follow her but she was going too fast. "Tinker Bell, you're going to fast for us!" Wendy called out. The fairy sped up. "Tinker bell!"

Another canon fires, causes a nearby bird with missing feathers to crash into you, knocking you off of your course. You were dizzy from all of the spinning that the incident caused.

You were starting to feel sick. "W..Wendy? John?" You quietly called out, the world was still spinning around you. You could only make out the Island.

You do your best to safely fly down, but you have a rocky landing, sending you tumbling and hitting your head on a tree. You groan and everything goes black.

~~~~~~~

"oh? and how might a half-whit such as yourself go about Finding Pan? hm?" You hear a man rhetorically ask.

"w-well cap'm i'd say we go-"

"I COMMAND YOU TO GO AND GET THE PRINCESS, SMEE!" The man cut the other off and you heard whoever it was scatter.

You wince at the yelling, head still throbbing from earlier, and crack your eyes open a bit to examine your surroundings.

"where am i..." You ask, more to yourself.

"you, darling, are on the Jolly Roger"

"Jolly... Roger? that's a silly name" You go to reach for your head only to discover your bound wrists.

"silly? i won’t let a girl out in her nightgown talk down on my ship"

"oh, your ship? is that why you were yelling at that poor man?" You raise an eyebrow.

"you dare stick your nose in the business of Captain James Hook, girl? why i oughta make you walk the plank, hm?" He takes his hook and lifts your head with it, the cold metal made your skin tingle.

With him being so close, you could finally see him in his entirety. He was tall, had long and curly black hair, sported a mustache and a (somewhat) clean shave.

He looked great in his coat, it hugged him perfectly around the waist. You swallow thickly, imagining sinful things.

You were so distracted that you hadn't noticed that he didn't move away yet. You look up at his eyes and slightly move your head.

"that um... that’s too bad then" You clear your throat.

"hm?~ what’s too bad?" He asks, tone completely different from before.

"making me walk the plank.." You quietly remind.

"yes.. oh! yes! you're a lucky lass, you. i'm sure Pan will be here in no time, looking for you" He makes a pleased expression and tugs on his mustache.

"and if he doesn’t?" You challenge.

"then i guess i'll have you all to myself" He grins at you, showing off his gold tooth and sending a buzz down your spine.

"well, be back in a bit, and i suggest you don't disturb me crew with any shouting" He slams the door behind him, making your head tingle again.

You look around what looked to be his office. He had maps with markings and shiny collectables littered everywhere. Books and papers piled on the desk, it looked like he was making another map.

You sigh and close your eyes, hoping that Peter would eventually find you. You knew this was a bad idea.

~~~~~~~

"SMEEEEEE!" You hear the pirate scream out. You didn’t know when you'd fallen asleep, but you did.

"keep calm cap'm, i'm comin!" Smee calls out.

You hear screaming, and the sound of a ticking clock. Your curiosity was getting the best of you, making you want to go outside.

"okay, (Y/N), think of a big house... lovely animals... Nana" You close your eyes and feel yourself floating. You get closer to the desk and reach for the small knife on the edge.

Just as you had it in your grasp, the door swung open, making you fall onto the floor and cut yourself.

"ouch!" You groan, though no one heard you. Smee rushed in behind the hysterical Captain and placed a towel on his head and a bucket under his feet.

"oh Smee... he almost got me" You heard the mans lip quivering. You tried to sit yourself back up while the men were distracted.

"i know i know cap'm, you rest and we can go back out for Pan tomorrow" Smee cooed.

"b-b-but"

"be right back cap'm!" Smee left.

"blast that Peter Pan.." He grumbled. You kept quiet and he suddenly sat up, looking around. "the girl, where is she?" He looked around the room before finally spotting you near the desk.

"why you-" He winced at the sound of banging on the door. You both flinch and the constant loud noise and he gets up angrily.

He swings the door open and is hit on the head with a hammer by an unaware Smee.

He staggered back, losing his footing and landed back in his chair.

Smee came in with a smile and a tea pot. "oh, cap'm! it's good t see you smiling again" Poor man must’ve been knocked silly.

"you know, there's trouble brewin on the island. women trouble" Smee starts. "I wouldn’t want this to go any further, but supposedly Pan banished Tinker Bell.."

Well, this was new to you.

He began pouring the water into the buckets beneath his feet, you scrunch your face up, knowing how hot it must be. "um, Smee, was it?" You clear your throat.

"yes dear?" He asks, still pouring.

"i think that water's a bit too hot..."

"oh of course not, the cap'm hasn't said a peep abou-"

"wooooah!" The captain jumps up. He immediately grabs Smee by the collar. "well you doddering imbecile, i... did you say Pan has banished Tinker Bell?" He quesriones.

"aye aye, cap'm. that he has" Sme stumbles out.

"but why?"

"well on a count of Wendy, cap'm. Tink tried to do her in, she did. Tink's terrible jealous" Your jaw dropped at the news. Tink tried to kill your sister?

"well well" James taps his chin in thought.

"thats why we ought to leave, cap'm. this ain't no place for a respectable pirate." Smee dusts his shirt and puts his nose in the air.

"that's is, Smee! that's it!" James smacks Smee on the back, sending the poor man to the ground.

"i'm glad you agree cap'm" Smee adjusts his glasses.

"quick! me coat." The captain casts his blanket aside. "me best dress coat!"

"aye aye sir, the sooner we gets going, the better!" Smee rushed to grab the coat.

"ah yes, a jealous female can be tricked into doing anything. my case of hooks!"

"aye aye sir!" Smee grabs a small purple box near you and hold it out to the captain. "here you are, sir. your Sunday set, sir"

"If we impress the pixie, convince her we're eager to help her, the wench may chart our course, to a certain hiding place.."

"our best hiding place is the Spanish main sir, i'll set our course- oh!" Smee is snatched up by Hook.

"and where do you think you are going?" Hook asks with a cheeky grin.

"to tell the boys we sails with the tide, sir"

"you will go ashore, pick up Tinker Bell, and bring her to me." Hook drops Smee square on the head. "UNDERSTAND?" He shouts.

Smee blabbers out an "aye aye, sir" and quickly rows away.

"ah, looks like things are looking rather good for me lately"

"excuse me?" You speak up. He breaks his longing gaze at the ceiling and raises an eyebrow at you. "if you don't mind me asking, why exactly are you looking for Peter?"

Maybe it's because you haven't heard any new stories in years, but you didn't know why he would be out to kill Peter.

"it's not my fondest memory with that cursed Peter Pan... he cut off me left hand and fed it to a crocodile!" He touched his golden hook. "it still follows me, trying to take the rest o me to this day"

You ball your lips, fighting back your chuckle. "you must take good then, no?" You question, now crossing your legs.

"oh you think it's funny, aye?" He smirks. You expected him to blow up at you, so your smile faltered at his response. You only swallow, unsure of what to say.

"say, i'm in a good mood, i'll turn you loose for the time being" He walks up and reaches behind you, untying your wrists.

He hums and grabs your wrist. "how'd this happen, my gem?" He asks, holding your cut hand with his hook and carefully pulling back the long sleeves of your dress with his hand.

"and no that i think of it how did you manage to get from there, to here?" He asks, walking behind his desk and grabbing a gauze.

"i um... flew?" You ask more than answer.

"you must’ve hit your head pretty hard" He asks, gently wrapping your hand.

"it's the weird truth" You shrug, thankful to be able to move your arms again.

"do you drink?" He opens a chest and pulls out a glass bottle with dark liquid inside. He pinches two glasses between his fingers and carried the bottle over in his arm.

He set everything down and turned your chair to the desk.

"i've only tasted a few wines" You answer. "and thank you"

He pours you a shot amount and gets himself a full glass.

"for what?" He asks. You lift your hand and he waves you off. "that was common decency"

You pick up your glass and catch a whiff of the drink, immediately scrunching up your nose. You take a small sip and you're greeted with a burning sensation.

"this is very... unpleasant, to say the least" You frown.

"yeah, it definitely isn't for a lass like yourself, i'll tell you that much" He takes a sip from his cup.

"oh please, i could finish this... it just take time, that’s all" You brace yourself for the second sip.

"if you say so, missy"

"(Y/N)." You say sternly.

"apologies, (Y/N)" He says coyly.

~~~~~~~

"and so i say, what do you mean that's Peter Pan? i never met the boy before, i thought he was a figment of our imagination."

"i wish that wretched boy was only a tall tale. he's nothing but a pain in my arse"

Hook was leaning back in his chair, holding his 1/4 filled bottle. You were sitting on the desk, legs faced away from the man to not give him a peek under your gown.

You lazily hold your hand out and he hands you the bottle. "you know, you’re a lot quieter now"

"and you’re more talkative" He retorts. You tilt your head back and waterfall some of the beverage, spilling a bit of it on yourself.

"aye... aye!! that's me best rum that you're wastin!" He grabs the bottle from your hands.

He was close, so close that your noses were almost touching.

"sorry, Captain" You say in a teasing manner.

"it's quite alright, it's been put to better use this way, no?" He asks, looking down at your neck. "may i?"

You dazedly looked at his lips, making out his words as best as you could in your state.

"yes... you may" You nod. You didn't know what he was asking permission to do but you weren’t going to question it.

His eyes glance up at you for a moment as he stood up, only to look back down again and reach out.

He undid the bow that held your dress together at your chest, showing your cleavage.

"kiss me" You squeaked out. "please.."

He quickly granted your wish, a hand coming up to gently hold the back of your head.

The kiss was hungry and rough, from the both of you. You didn’t know his reason, maybe it's that he's a pirate. But you've wanted his lips on yours since you've saw him.

You found him charming in the, embarrassing kind of way. You wondered how he of all people became captain.

The kiss calmed down a bit and he took the opportunity to glide his tongue across the slit of your mouth, making you open in surprise.

"mmf!" His tongue slithered him, tasting of Rum and something sweet. You hold his arms and pull away from the kiss catching your breath.

"do you not have to breathe??" You ask in between breaths.

"why are you holding your breath? breathe through your nose" He says lowly, bringing you into another kiss.

This time, you took his advice, breathing through your nostrils. "better, right?" He states more than asks.

The top of your dress fell from your shoulders and to the crease of your arms during the heated make out sessions. Hook slid his arms along yours, dragging the dress off along the way.

Your breasts were exposed to the cool air, giving you goosebumps and making your nipples harder than they already were. Hook takes notice of this and chuckles to himself.

"a bit cold, hm?" He places the pad of his thumb over one and rubs circles around it.

"mhm" You bit your lip. His calloused palms caressed the soft flesh of your torso in a massage.

"almost forgot about me rum.." He mumbles before attaching his lips to your neck, giving you kitty licks as he made his way lower. "tastes better on you" You feel him smirk onto your skin.

"oh really?" You utter. Your breath hitches in your throat once you feel his warm lips wrap around one of your nipples.

You moan and tangle your fingers in in his thick hair, tugging at it lightly. "oh how soft you are, my jewel..." His breath ghosts over your now wet bud.

He shows the same affection to your other nipple, let it go with a 'pop'. You were very sensitive now, firm and ready to be touched again.

"how often are you told how pretty you are, missy?" He carefully slips the remainder of your dress down your legs. Your underwear was soaked in your arousal, only making the cheeky pirate grin harder.

"technically speaking... i'd say almost everyday" Your heart races in your chest as he slips his shiny hook beneath the damp cloth and moves it down your thighs.

"mm..." He kisses your inner thigh and your back slightly arches. "that's not nearly enough for a pearl like yourself..." His lips came closer and closer to where you wanted them with each kiss.

"what do you mean?" You ask out of curiosity. He pauses for a moment, looking up with pure eye contact.

"i would tell you every hour of the day~" Your cheeks heat and you put a hand over his face.

"oh shut it" You say bashfully and he chuckles, removing your hand and planting a tender kiss upon your knuckles.

"it is the truth" His fingers slip between your folds, making you gasp and grab his wrist.

He stops and looks at you, waiting for a look of reassurance. "would you like to stop here?"

"will it hurt?" You ask, started to feel the weight of the situation.

"do you trust me?"

You only nod. You let go of his hand and he starts to skillfully rub your clit. You bite back your moans, letting out only a sigh.

You made the mistake of exhaling through your mouth just as he began teasing your slick entrance. Eliciting such sweet moans for the Captain Hook.

His hands grab yours and slide them up to your chest. "try touching yourself here, my sweet" He suggests. You place the palms of your hands over your breasts and awkwardly squeeze them with a giggle.

"like so.." James reaches out and just barely rubs your nipple, making your lower back tingle.

You copied his movement and hummed at the new feeling. He puts you unoccupied hand back and lowers his head between your legs again.

This time however, he put your legs over his shoulders. You felt your lips being spread and something soft, warm, and fast brushing over the bundle of nerves.

Your legs immedeitly try to close on him, but he keeps them open. Your hips rocked in sync with his tongue and beads of sweat formed at the intensity.

"you taste phenomenal... i could do this all day.." His low voice vibrated through you, sending your hand flying to his hair and gripping the thick locs harshly.

One last and low "mm~" from James, and you were over the edge, subconsciously holding his face as close as possible to you while you rode out your high.

You collapsed on the table, back flush against the wood. Hook peered over you with a grin. And his hand searched your body again.

"you're so perfect, a true diamond" Hook smiles, dragging his cold hook along your still hard nipples. He slipped a finger into you, making you gasp again, but this was one that he caught with a kiss.

You moaned into his mouth while his finger went deeper and deeper into you. The previous orgasm allowed him to slide the digit in with ease, letting him know to add another finger.

He deepens the kiss as he slides the second finger in. Going in and out of you at an insane pace. Your arms wrap around his neck and you break from the kiss for a second just to roll your eyes and hang your head.

"it feels so good..." Your voice broke.

Not long after your statement, you came undone, shaking violently with a broken moan. "oh James~" You pant, feeling winded.

"what is it, darling?" He asks with a voice full of sultry.

"this is crazy" You look up at him.

"it's about to get even crazier"

~~~~~~~

You were pretty sure you moans were ringing throughout the ship. Poor crew mates weren't getting any sleep tonight. The sound of James's thighs sticking to the bottom on yours.

A mix of his and your cum making a mess between the two of you. He would probably fill you to the brim if you let him.

James's eyes fixed on the way your breasts bounced with every one of his powerful thrusts, and more importantly, the new deep sensational feeling between your legs.

His back rested against his large purple chair, and his hips thrusted into you like there was no tomorrow.

"James i'm gonna- shit!" Your eyes squeeze shut as you experience your 3rd and final orgasm in this position. You were spent.

"gem~" Hook called out.

"hm?" You lazily look down at him.

"i need one more favor from you, if your up for it~"

~~~~~~~

"shit... just like that" His eyes peer into you as he watches you, making you feel even more naked than you are if possible.

You were sitting in the chair now. Squeezing your boobs around this mans aching penis while he jerked his hips towards you.

You curiously stick your tongue out, being greeted with the salty tase and soft feeling of his tip.

He let out a sound almost like yours and started bucking forward. You kept licking and squeezing and he kept letting out something like a whimper, it was cute.

"oh... i'm cumming" His large arms grab on to the head of the chair and he cums on your lips and chin. His eyes were low and tired.

"i could tell that felt good" You tease.

"oh better than you could imagine" He wipes your chin and kisses you once more. But he could feel a smile tugging at your lips.

"what is it?" He smiled back.

You shrug and slump into the chair. "I strangely feel happy"

"it's not strange, i feel happy too, love" He reassures and your cheeks heat.

"okay where's your bathroom? I need to get clean" You ask, escaping the enclosure of his arms holding the chair you were inn.

"you don't want to go there to get clean, us pirates use mother nature" He answers. He grabs his jacket and his button up and walks over to the office door.

His head was on a swivel, making sure no one was up. He beckoned you to follow him, so you did. He tosses down a ladder and began climbing down into the water.

You peek over the edge and see nothing but still, open water. It as sparkling from the moonlight. You take a few steps back and jump. Letting out only a yelp instead of the scream that fought to errupt.

You swim to the surface and wipe the water from your eyes.

"you'd fit right in with me crew" He shook his head. "those crazy bastards"

"you should try it sometime" You shrug. You start you dip yourself deeper into the water, rubbing your arms and face to scrub them clean.

You hear a faint Tick- Tok, in the distance. You look around with your eyes narrow, as if it would help you see further.

"do you hear that hook?" You ask.

"hear what?" He goes quiet. You see constant ripple coming toward you and look in his direction to see him shaking.

"are you okay?"

"s-s-s-smee... Smee" The Tick-Tok grew louder. and you turn to see a crocodile. Your heart races in your chest and it swims toward you.

You try to swim away but it catches up, and fast. You just knew you were going to die, hoping for a nice eulogy at your funeral, but it swam past you, licking its lips.

It wanted James, James almost jumped out of the water when he realized. "SMEEEEEE"

[itsagirlwithglasses]

A Shadow’s Tale

Azriel x Pirate female!reader

CHAPTER ONE

summary: A new arrival to Velaris, aboard of your ship are presumed human legends. After the dead of your father, Captain Hook, who was allied to Hybern, you make the choice to break those bonds and ally with the High Lord of the Night Court in the upcoming war. However, it is easier said than done, for the distrust is big and you must prove yourself worthy of an alliance.

word count: 1200+

a/n: first time writing ACOTAR fanfic, characters do not belong to me except for the FMC, everything else is based on the book series by Sarah J Maas, however this is inspired only, does not relate directly to the actual story!

warnings: none

“As your second, I’m supposed to warn you they will not accept you that easily” Bonny said while pacing in front of your desk, “The High Lord is known to be relentless, and after all your father was an ally to Hybern.” 

“My father’s poor decisions is what led me to do this.” You spoke standing up and resting your hands on your table, “Hybern left us with nothing, but we do have something that even the High Lord of the Night Court can’t say no to.” 

“If he even lets you in his court, what do you think he will say about the fact that pirates do have magic?” Bonny came closer and whispered, “Stolen magic.” 

“How would they know? There’s zero knowledge about our kind and even if there were, it’s most likely rumors created by foolish humans.” 

“What if—“ 

“Enough! Bonny… We should be arriving soon, and I expect your discretion about any private issue regarding our… abilities.” You straightened and adjusted your jacket. Bonny only nodded with a frown and I smiled. “Great, I’ll do the talking, keep your eyes open. I’m sure they already know of our presence in their shores.” 

— 

Navigating through the wards of Velaris was somewhat exciting. You couldn’t help the giddy feeling. Hybern destroyed your family and stripped you of your riches and your life, but gave you something that was by far more important. A way through wards, spells and concealments. Which is how you and your crew entered the City of Starlight through the sea between the mountains. You got a glimpse of the city buildings in distance. The weather was warm and the sky was blue with very few clouds. Two blurs in the sky got your attention and that’s when you knew it was time. 

You went into your cabin and grabbed your hat and tighten your boots. Two thumps were heard outside followed by a couple shrieks and you smiled to yourself. You walked out finding the Highlord’s General and Spymaster with drawn swords pointed at Bonny and Sebastian. Your mates were kneeling on the floor, unharmed, their hands up in surrender. Exactly how you had instructed. Harmless. That’s how everyone should appear to the Night Court. 

You had left your sword back in your cabin as well. You didn’t want to seem like a threat. 

“Where’s your captain?” The long hair general asked with a tone of authority and you simply smiled kindly at him opening your arms. 

“You’re the Captain?” A scowl from the spymaster and you raised your eyebrows at him.

“How did you cross the wards?” The general asked and you smiled at him once more. “Do you not speak our language? How did you—“ 

“I understand you just fine,” you said with your best silky voice, “however I did not invite you to my ship nor do I recall making introductions.” You stepped forward and they directed their swords at you making you stop and lift your empty hands gaining a small chuckle from you. 

“What’s your name and what are you doing here?” The general asked and you noticed the red gems from his suit glowing brighter. 

“I will disclose my name to your Highlord seeing as my business is with him.” 

“You first respond to us, then we decide if you get so much as a look in his direction.” You scowled at them shaking your hand. 

“I’m not armed, my men are not armed, I present no threat to any of you and yet, you doubt my intentions.” You stated innocently.

“These wards have been up and reinforced by every powerful highlord for millennia, you want us to believe you come here with such power to break through and not consider you a threat?” The spymaster’s turn to question you and you blinked. 

“I suppose you have a point, but let me propose a bargain.” You smiled, “I will anchor my ship on your shores while you announce my arrival to your Highlord, request a meeting with him on my behalf, and I shall wait for a response. I will not come near your little village until further notice and we all can be civil.” 

They looked at each other and the general laughed, actually laughed! Your smile fell away. 

“Azriel,” a command from the general to the spy master and a blur of shadows surrounded you tying your limbs close to your body. You grunted and fought against the restraints but to no avail. 

You saw Bonny and Sebastian getting up to attack but you shot them a pointed look that said to stay down. You looked at the two gigantic figures. 

“Is this really necessary?” 

“My men will collect your crew. You’re coming with us.” No laughter left on his voice, another shared look and you thought you were going to fly but the spymaster came close and the next thing you saw was a mist of darkness as he lightly touched your arm. Then you felt yourself falling to the floor your knees and hands hitting cold concrete. 

You didn’t say a word as you saw the spymaster looking at you from the shadows through the bars of a cell. You looked around noticing the cot and the a bucket. You tried to get to your feet but your legs gave out because of the months at sea. You heard Azriel scowling and you shot him a glare. 

“Find it funny do you?” 

“Yes actually,” he said darkly coming closer to the bars looking down on you, “You seemed so sure of yourself in your little boat and now you can’t even get up,” he sighed “it seems to me you’re all talk.” He purred and you crawled to the cot and pushed yourself up sitting on it. 

“Yet you still feel the necessity to keep me in a cell, behind iron bars, while  keeping your distance.” 

“I don’t gamble with my prisoners.” 

“You must be the life of the party then,” you joked. 

“I don’t party either.” He said and you saw a glimpse of amusement on his eyes.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” You tilted your head and you waited for his response, he only scowled and went back into the shadows. “You could at least tell me where I am.” 

“In the dungeons.” He deadpanned. 

“Oh really? And here I thought this was your five stars hotel?” You put your hand over your heart and rolled your eyes, his gaze on you. 

“You talk too much.” 

“You talk too little.” 

“I assure you you will be regretting asking for more on my part.” 

You laughed loudly. 

“What? Are you going to whip me or something?” You noticed him smiling darkly and you swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t…” 

He raised his eyebrows and you only stared as he came closer, you didn’t even noticed when he walked through the bars as if they weren’t even there. You staggered back in the cot and he lowered himself putting each of his hands on either side on you. His face a couple inches from yours. You stayed very still, your eyes not leaving his. His gaze was dark and intimidating as he said: “It will depend on how willing you are to talk.” His breath was cold on your face and it smelled of morning breeze and a hint of cherry. 

You smiled a little eyeing his mouth and then his eyes. 

“You have a taste for cherries,” you noted and his brow furrowed. 

Something shifted in his gaze and you swallowed again. It was probably a terrible idea to flirt with this male. After all you knew of the stories of his tortures. But you couldn’t help yourself as you felt his walls coming down a little.

He was about to reply when a darker presence filled the room and he walked away from you going back to the shadows. The cold gaze back on his face. The cell became colder than it had before and your heart was beating wildly as you felt darkness and talons trying to rip at your mind. 

Your breaths came faster and you were painting when you heard his voice. 

“I do not take lightly unwelcome guests in my Court, Miss Hook.”

Next Chapter

------------------------

Let me know your thoughts and based on those I'l either continue or just pretend this never happened lol <3

If you wanna be tagged on the next one also let me know :)

[wannabespacesmuggler]

Small Talk and Mediocre Coffee | Missing Person

Chapter Sixteen | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: You recently moved to Storybrooke and began working the morning shift at Granny’s diner. Meanwhile, Killian Jones has been working the night shift on the docks of Storybrooke for years. When his routine gets turned upside down, he begins to understand the simple joy brought by an early cup of coffee, as long as you’re the one pouring it.

Pairing: Killian Jones x Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, PTSD

Word Count: 3K

Extras: Playlist – A playlist for two idiots in love: a gruff outcast who hates coffee but now drinks it every morning because the waitress at the diner keeps smiling at him as they pour it.

Author’s Note: So this chapter is about a month late (life really had other plans for me), but I think this one will be worth the wait. Let me know what you guys think. I’m excited for you all to read it.

“If you stare at that booth any harder, you might burn a hole into it.”

Your head snaps toward Ashley who just broke you out of your trance. You don’t know how long you were staring at the empty booth near the corner of the diner; however, it was long enough to garner a comment from Ashley. Attempting to shake off your thoughts, you roll your shoulders back and turn to face your colleague and friend. 

“Sorry, Ashley. I’m just a little distracted this morning.”

Ashley nods at your words. She seems to hesitate for a moment, as if she’s deciding her next words very carefully. For a second, it seems as though Ashley isn’t going to say anything at all until she meets your gaze.

“I didn’t see Killian come in this morning. Is he working the night shift today?”

You knew this was coming at some point. Even though you tried to let it go, the fact that Killian Jones has been missing all morning has thrown you off. You like your routine -- in fact, you live for it -- waking up early, opening up the diner, pouring Killian a cup of coffee before his morning shift. It’s not even the fact that he didn’t show up that has you worried; there have been plenty of mornings since you met him when Killian didn’t come in for a cup of coffee, but in all of those instances he’s sent a message letting you know. You’ve spent all morning casting glances toward your phone on the counter and there is still no message from your pirate. 

You shrug your shoulders at Ashley’s question which causes her to furrow her brow. Ashley doesn’t know Killian very well, but she knows you and she’s witnessed your budding relationship with Storybrooke’s resident bad boy firsthand. She knows he stopped coming into the diner for coffee ages ago -- she’s not even sure if the need for caffeine was ever the reason why Killian was in that booth every morning. So, the fact that he’s not here is odd and the fact that you seem confused by his actions is a bit troubling.

“Is something going on with you two?”

You let out a long sigh, dropping the towel you were holding onto the counter in front of you. Ashley crossed her arms, waiting for you to continue.

“I don’t know, Ash.”

Ashley takes a second to scan the diner, the two of you were already done with the morning breakfast rush so there are only a couple of morning stragglers left in the booths. The few patrons seem to be content for the time being, so Ashley takes your hand and drags you into the back of the diner away from the prying eyes and ears of Storybrooke’s curious residents. 

“Okay, spill.”

You roll your eyes at Ashley's antics, but you can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face. After glancing over your shoulder, making sure that no one is watching, you explain the situation to Ashley. Her face lights up as you explain your ‘almost kiss’ from last night. 

“I’m just afraid that I scared him off.”

Ashley shakes her head furiously.

“Absolutely not. Killian is so into you. Maybe he got switched to the night shift and forgot to send you a message?”

You know that Ashley is trying to comfort you and you wish that her words settled your nerves, but the entire situation is so unlike Killian. Ever since your conversation with him after your trip to the emergency room is been much better at communicating with you. You nod your head, but Ashley can tell that you’re still anxious.

“Have you talked to Emma or David this morning?”

You shake your head.

“Maybe you should stop by the station. Who knows, maybe he got caught up with David or something?”

Her words give you a little relief. Although you don’t know for sure, it is totally plausible that Killian met with David this morning and lost track of time. 

“I can close by myself, if you want to head over there right now.”

“Are you sure?”

Ashley places her hands on her hips before answering.

“Of course. Go find loverboy.”

A small chuckle escapes your lips at the nickname that Ashley has decided on for Killian. You don't waste any time -- unwrapping the apron from around your waist and throwing Killian’s heavy hide jacket around your shoulders. You’re about to exit through the back door when Ashley’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“When you find Killian, just kiss him already.”

You flash her a bright smile before opening the door and heading out.

Lucky for you, it was a slow day at the station. When you arrive, David is sitting with his feet kicked up on his desk. The case file in his hands distracts him from your entrance. You call his name from the door, hoping not to startle the sheriff. David drops the case file in his lap and glances toward the door. When his eyes meet yours he smiles brightly. 

“Hey, Emma has the day off if you’re looking for her.”

“Actually, I’m here to talk to you.”

David straightens himself, removing his feet from his desk and motioning to the chair a few feet away from him. You move further into the station and sit in the chair.

“What can I help you with?”

“It’s about Killian.”

David nods, but stays quiet, letting you continue. 

“Have you seen him today?”

David lets out a soft sigh and his shoulders slump forward ever-so-slightly. His reaction causes your nerves to spike and begin to wring your hands together. David senses your nerves and reaches out to you. His hands grab yours and stop your anxious movements.

“He’s okay. Today just happens to be a really traumatic anniversary in his life and every year he just disappears for the day. I don’t know where he goes or what he does, but he always comes back the next day.”

This time, you nod at David’s words. There’s a part of you that desperately wants to ask him for details, but you know Killian Jones. He’s a guarded and cautious man. Although he’s slowly let you break down the walls he built up to protect his heart, you are not naïve enough to think that you know everything about the man. However, you do know that although Killian Jones is familiar with solitude, it is not his friend. Right now, you’re worried that he is drowning and without any help in sight, the waves of guilt and grief that he must be experiencing might swallow him whole. 

“Do you think he should be alone right now?”

Although you’re aware of what you believe, you also know that David knows Killian better than anyone else in this town. If he believes that space is what is best for Killian right now, then you’ll leave it be. But, if David agrees with your line of thinking, then you’ll confidently spring into action.

“I think Killian believes that he has to go through this alone, but we both know he doesn’t.”

You nod at his words. That’s all you need to hear.

“I think I know where he is. Can I borrow your truck?”

David doesn’t even think about your question. He reaches into his pocket, grabs his keys, and tosses them to you. He looks at you, a passionate ferocity burning in your eyes for the man that he calls his best friend, and fondly smiles as he is overwhelmed by a feeling of relief. He’s watched Killian close himself off from others for years. Although he let David and his family into his life, there are still parts of him -- the parts of him that feel suffering and fear and loneliness -- that he conceals in order to protect the ones he loves. He’s managed to push almost everyone else away, but here you are -- prepared to move heaven and earth just to make sure that Killian isn’t alone tonight. 

“Good luck.”

You give David a curt nod and head out of the station. Once you get into David’s truck, you take out your phone and punch in the coordinates you’re heading to. He may be able to disappear on David, but you know where Killian goes to escape Storybrooke. You know you’ll find him at the state line.

It takes you several hours to reach the state line, which gives you time to rethink your decision several times over. You almost turn the truck around multiple times. A part of you worries that Killian will be angry when you arrive -- maybe you’re overstepping one of the invisible boundaries you created over the past several months. However, when you spot Killian’s truck, your concern for Killian’s well-being outweighs the anxious pit growing in your stomach at the prospect of making him uncomfortable. 

Killian is sitting on the tailgate of his truck. At the sound of another car approaching, his head turns. Reluctantly, he slides off the tailgate and begins walking toward David’s truck, which you parked several yards behind his own truck on the side of the road. 

“Listen, David, I don’t know how you found me, but--”

The words get caught in Killian’s throat as you step out of David’s truck. He shouldn’t be surprised. If anyone was going to find him, it was you. But there is still a small part of him that doubts just how much you care about him. And that small part of him, made him believe that you wouldn’t notice if he went missing for a day. But here you are. 

“You’re not David.”

A small smile spreads across your face at his words. As you approach Killian, you take a moment to look him over. He’s in his usual dark jeans, leather jacket, and black work boots. His obsidian hair is more disheveled than normal, most likely due to his nervous habit of running his hands through it. And his eyes are tired. You’re used to  a hardened and weary Killian Jones, but today he just looks exhausted -- as if he didn't sleep at all last night.

“No, but I could go get him instead.”

You’re joking, he knows that, but he couldn’t help the panic that spiked in his chest. His mouth opened before his head could catch up.

“No, no, I want you.”

In that moment, Killian wants to take a shovel, dig a hole and fall into it. The panic in his chest begins rising to his throat as you just stare at him. He takes a moment to collect himself before speaking again.

“I mean, I want you here.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I want to be here.”

Killian can’t help the smile that spreads across his face as you repeat his words back to him. He remembers the day he picked you up from the emergency room and promised that he wouldn’t disappear on you again -- which is exactly what he did today. And with that thought, the panic that once filled his chest is replaced with guilt.

“I’m sorry. I should have at least sent you a text that I wouldn’t stop by the diner today.”

“Killian, I’m not mad. I’m just worried about you. David didn’t tell me anything, but if you want to talk about what’s going on in that head.”

Killian lets out a heavy sigh and leans against his truck. You don’t follow him, you let him have his space as he works through the thoughts running around in his head. 

“You don’t have to tell me.”

Killian looks up at your words. His eyes are glossy and your heart aches as you realize that Killian is on the verge of tears.

“I was engaged. Years ago.”

Killian notices a look of confusion and curiosity flash across your face, but you stay silent, allowing him to continue if that’s what he wants to do. And he does. He wants to let you in. 

“Milah. Her name was Milah.”

“What happened?”

Killian drew in a painful, shaky breath. It’s like he was back there all over again. He can feel the heavy rain against his skin. He can hear the sirens in the distance. Hell, he can practically see the steering wheel of his old Mustang. And then he could smell it, the blood. It’s all over his dashboard, and his clothes, and his hands. His hand…

“Killian?”

Your voice replaces the sirens. It washes over him, wraps around him and pulls him out of that night.

“I was in an accident -- before prison, before I started running with Liam. We were coming back from a dinner and I was driving. We were fighting and it was raining so hard. I didn’t see the other car in time. They blew a stop sign and…”

Killian’s voice trails off. He doesn’t have to finish -- you know. 

“Killian…”

You want to comfort him, but you know that there isn’t anything you can say that can help him. There isn’t anything you can say that can bring Milah back. Killian shakes his head vigorously, as if he’s trying to physically rid himself of the thoughts inside his head. 

“I blamed myself for years. Punished myself for not expecting the unexpected. I damn near drank myself to death because I couldn’t justify how the accident killed her, but I walked away with only this to show for it.”

He pushes his left sleeve up, exposing the scarred tissue that encompasses the skin of his entire hand and wrist.

“I didn’t even lose my hand. The doctors said it was a miracle. I thought I was cursed. Everything I touched, I ruined.”

Killian’s eyes close as he remembers the darkest period of his life. As he remembers everything he did -- everything that he’ll be atoning for, for the rest of his life. There was a time when he thought the guilt of who had become would eat him alive and swallow him whole. But that was before David, and Emma, and Henry, and you.

“I didn’t think I deserved to be happy for a long time. And then I met David and he gave me a second chance. He let me into his life and into his family. He let me live again.”

He lets out a shaky breath as he prepares himself for what he’s about to say next. He’s about to cross the invisible line that the two of you have created throughout the span of your friendship. And although that terrifies him to his very core, Killian Jones is sick and tired of being afraid to live.

“And I never thought I could allow myself to open my heart up and love someone again. That I was too bitter and bruised.”

For the first time since he brought up Milah, Killian fixes his gaze on you.

“Do you think you could let yourself love someone now?”

“Aye, I do.”

He doesn’t look away and neither do you. Your heartbeat is ringing in your ears as you ask him the question that could change everything.

“What made you change your mind?”

“You.”

You aren’t certain what gets your feet moving -- maybe the ferocity in his eyes or the sincerity in his voice. You don’t tell your legs to move, they just do, as if it is instinct that draws you closer to Killian. Throwing caution to the wind, you follow your heart instead of your head and take several long strides toward Killian until you’ve closed the distance that you created.

As you stand in front of him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of his body. It draws you closer to him, into his orbit. You take a breath and study Killian’s features, looking for any sign of doubt. But, instead of doubt, all you find is adoration. 

You take a leap of faith. 

You reach up, wrapping both of your arms around Killian’s neck and pull him toward you. You stop just for a second once your nose brushes his, his lips just a breath away, giving him the chance to pull away. Killian notices your hesitation and backs away slightly so he can meet your gaze. His hands move to envelop your cheeks. His grip on either side of your face is gentle.

“If this isn’t what you want…”

The smile that graces your lips is sweet as honey -- just like when he first walked into the diner. 

“Killian, just kiss me.”

You don’t have to ask him twice. He closes the gap between you and presses his lips against yours. The kiss is tender and sweet, until you let go of Killian’s neck and slide your hands down his chest. You grab onto either side of his leather jacket and pull him closer. Just like yesterday, when Herc called Killian, he lets out a low, guttural growl that reverberates in his chest. He moves his hands down your body until he’s got a tight grip on your waist. The kiss turns into something desperate and needy. 

Eventually, you both have to break away and take a breath. Killian presses his forehead against yours as the two of you attempt to control your breathing and settle your nerves. You move a hand up to cup Killian’s cheek. His eyes close and he leans into your touch. He lets out a tired sigh as he just enjoys the sensation of your skin against his. His eyes flutter open and he presses a soft kiss into your palm.

“Stay with me. Please. I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got me.”

Your words begin to stitch up an old wound, deep inside of him that he’d long forgotten. He steals another kiss from your lips, leaving you breathless, before wrapping both of his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a tight embrace. His head burrows into your neck as you wrap both your arms around his shoulders. In the comfort of your arms, Killian’s lips twist into a small smile. When he woke up this morning, he was prepared for yet another painful day of remembering all that he’s lost. Ready to drown his sorrows with a bottle of rum. But right now, with you in his arms, Killian Jones finally feels alive again.

Taglist:  @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @alexa-fangirl-forever @mossnomori @captainamericasinnocence @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @ceruleanrainblues @lily-d247 @victoria-a567 @drinkfantasy @thisismelayla @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @rinymichelle321 @aesteticthotiere @popcrone818 @helplesslydevoted @limelightliterature @unlikelyandrogynousghost @theslytherinwriter @no-soup4u​  @scaraza​

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

The Captain going through all of time and space

[retold-tales]

Hi, can you do a smut oneshot between the female reader x and my favorite Disney villain, Captain Hook please? Can it also start with love at first sight? Thank yo.

A Pirates Life For Me

Captain hook x Chief's daughter Reader

Summary: the chief's eldest daughter being the one to hold the famous pirate's heart

I wiggled in the bag trying to get comfortable it wasn't my first rodio with being kidnapped but this is the first time they actually got this far "the captain can finally be proud" one of the pirate goons chuckled as he layed me onto the ground "I'll go get the captain" one of the others clapped happily "captain, captain" he called loudly

the sound of a door slamming silenced the crew "what is it smee" a shrill voice screamed "we got her captain we got her" the one who I'm assuming is smee yelled happily as he pulled the bag off of me, it to a second to focus my vision I saw the goons loom over me while still Leaving a gap for the captain to see, I squinted to see the captain who I know is the famous captain hook he wore his signature red coat and hat his eyes slowly took my body in his eyes looking me over before he finally spoke "well well well aren't you a pretty little thing" he quickly gestured for the crew to bring me closer they quickly did so carefully but quickly he grabbed my face turning it direction as he examined it before smirking deeply "take her to my cabin" he said stepping aside my eyes flattened scared of what he's going to do with me the men quickly threw me inside and brought me over to a chair infront of his desk quickly binding me to it before scarring out captain hook stepped inside and shut the door before making his way over to me and placing himself infront of me on the desk "what is it you want hook" I muttered trying to keep my eyes from wondering over his body "well isn't it obvious" he smiled "where is peter pan hiding" he asked sternly learning towards me "you kidnapped the wrong daughter if you want to know that" I murmured also leaning closer, our faces were only inches apart "well I think you do know" he whispered putting his hand on my thigh while staring deeply into my eyes I gulped as he slowly traced circles up and down my thigh "come on just tell me" he murmured dragging his fingers higher and higher slipping under my skirt making its way up to my core my eyes flattered as he ran his finger up and down my slit before plunging in I bit my lip hard not wanting to let out a moan he slowly thrusted in and out in and out before adding another one I shut my eyes tightly and slowly started panting and moaning "that's it yn that's it" I looked at him confused "how did yo-" "what you really think I haven't been watching you" he smirked and used his thumb to rub my clit I lifted my head up as I let out more intense moans as I neared my climax "please please" I pleaded my body began to shake and tremble as I got closer and closer, my eyes closed tightly and a loud moan escaped my mouth as I came "that's a good girl" he murmured taking his hand away i leaned my head back against the chair trying to catch my breath but gasped as I felt a rough hand grab my neck tightly

"don't think we're done yet deary".

[cosette141]

While You Weren't Sleeping | OUAT fanfic oneshot

Author: cosette141

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Captain Swan

Words: 1.2k

Summary: Emma learns that Hook was a little less unconscious after their fight in the Enchanted Forest than he’d led her to believe. (tag to s3 ep The Jolly Roger)

AO3

(story under the cut!)

a/n: I personally still think that the s2 fight between Emma and Hook could have gone either way (one theory being that Emma actually won because Hook was being cocky, the other (more popular one) being Hook threw the fight because he didn’t want to hurt Emma).

I’m all for girl power so I love the idea of Emma having actually gotten the upper hand cause he was flirting too much lol and underestimated that Emma is a scrappy badass.

But this little story came along with the other theory, because I caught something Hook said in season 3. He tells Emma “Magic is a part of you, Swan. Don’t forget; I was there when Cora tried to steal your heart. I saw the power inside of you.” So, either this is a writing mistake, since he was supposed to be unconscious… or it was Hook’s flub, outing himself.

For the sake of this story, we’re going with the idea that Hook threw the fight, but I love both theories. :)

She found him where she knew she would; by the docks. And ever since seeing him again, though it’s been weeks since he woke her up in New York, she still felt a… something stir inside her at the sight of him. Something she’d felt at the town line, that might have prompted her to do something if they had been the only two people there. 

But that was a long time ago.

And everything after Walsh…

She knew she had… feelings… for Hook—Killian. 

However she didn’t yet know what to do about them. 

“Hey,” said Emma, trying to ignore that feeling when he looked her way. “I need you to watch Henry again.”

Hook grinned, but it was still a softer one than he used to have. 

Like this smile was one just for her. 

“If you wanted to get close to me, no need to use the lad as an excuse,” said Hook, smirking a little.

Emma very nearly rolled her eyes. “I’m not.” At least not entirely. “Regina is giving me a magic lesson,” she explained. “We think that the both of us combined should be strong enough to overpower Zelena.”

His features shifted into one of a little relief. “That’s about the best plan we’ve got yet.” he said with a grin.

“Yeah,” said Emma, biting her lip, feeling a little less confident than he seemed to feel about her. She had no idea how to handle her magic and she wasn’t sure one lesson was going to change that. 

“Don’t worry, Swan.” he said, the cunning slipping out of his expression, the look in his eyes shifting to something much more genuine. “Remember,” he said gently, “Magic is a part of you, Swan. Don’t forget I was there when Cora tried to steal your heart.” A change in his eyes, something like pride, like confidence , in her . “I saw the power inside of you.”

Emma smiled, a little heat touching her cheeks at the faith he had in her, nodding at his reassurance. Her magic was powerful, and that reminder did give her a little newfound faith in herself . 

But her expression halted, something shifting in her eyes, and then her eyes snapped back to his. 

Suspiciously. 

“How do you know that?” she asked, eyes locked onto his. “Cora told you?”

“She didn’t have to,” he said, his own brows kneading with genuine puzzlement. “I was there.” 

No…

“As I recall,” she said slowly, brows narrowing, “you were unconscious .” 

“I—“ It was only then he seemed to understand the direction her interrogation was heading, and he froze. Swallowing, he scratched behind his ear, saying, “—aye, yes, I was.”

He didn’t .

“Then how did you know I used magic to stop Cora?” she demanded, brow hitching up sharply. 

Hook swallowed again, eyes shifting to the ground before meeting hers. 

Lie.

Emma felt something heat up her chest. 

He did not .

“I—er, it only makes sense that’s how you—“ 

“ Hook .”

His eyes found hers. 

And then…

He grinned .

Like a child caught doing something they shouldn’t have. 

Emma’s jaw dropped. 

“I knocked you out!” she hissed.

“You knocked me down ,” he corrected, that amused grin lifting his lips into a crooked smile, and Emma suddenly wanted to smack it off. 

“Are you saying you let me win? ” growled Emma, voice hitching up an octave. 

“I’m saying,” he said, “I didn’t duck when you swung the compass at my head.”

Emma gaped at him. 

But it was there in his eyes. 

His stupid, cocky eyes. 

“I knocked you out,” whispered Emma. “You were being a cocky bastard, and I knocked you out .”

Hook winced a little. “I’ll admit to being the cocky bastard, but you know as well as I do that you didn’t.”

Emma stared him down, and he let her, and damnit he wasn’t lying. 

“But—“ began Emma.

“Swan,” he said, a little exasperatedly, “unless you’ve forgotten, I am a few centuries old. I’ve been a swordsman for hundreds of years, and you’d been one for all of five minutes.” At her narrowed eyes, he said, “Though I’ll admit, I did have quite the headache afterward.” 

Emma felt anger and a thread of humiliation course through her. 

He let her win?

He let her win?

She’d prided herself on that victory.

But something else snuck into her mind, a question that suddenly wouldn’t let her go.

She raised her eyes to Hook. “Why?”

The amusement slipped from his face. “What do you mean why?”

Emma’s anger faded. “I mean,” she said quietly, “why’d you let me win? It’s not like we were on the same side.”

His brows rose. “Emma,” he said, and it always shot a little chill down her spine when he chose to use her first name. “ Winning that fight would have meant either severely injuring or killing you.”

“So?”

He blinked. “What?”

“So?” repeated Emma. “At that point you were ‘done with me.’” She watched Hook wince at the words, and she suddenly realized he must have regretted saying them to her. “You risked your mission and Cora’s wrath for me? Why?”   

Hook hesitated. 

And Emma would never get over how strange, how rare it was to see him unsure. 

But he smiled, something soft, and he shifted her hair with his hook, like he’d done on the beanstalk. “Because I was never done with you, love.” Taking a breath, he said, “I still had the last Bean. I knew Cora and I could use it to get here, and you deserved to return to your son. I… simply couldn’t bring myself to prevent you.” He scratched behind his ear again. “And, love, I…” He swallowed. “I do apologize for the way I spoke to you that day.”

There was a touch of anguish in his eyes, and Emma found herself smiling. “You let me clock you in the face with a compass,” she said. “I think we’re even.”

He smiled too.

His eyes on her, he said, “Rest assured, love, that you are the strongest person I know.”

Emma rolled her eyes. 

His expression didn’t change. “I’m not placating you, Emma,” he said with a sort of gentle firmness. “I may have given you that fight that day, but Cora didn’t.” Emma felt herself pause, realizing that. “No one,” Hook went on, “in any of the realms had been able to defeat her, myself, Regina and the bloody Crocodile included.” He smiled. “So, trust me when I say that I’ve still yet to see you fail, and I know you will defeat Zelena.”

Emma felt herself smile. “Thanks, Killian.”  she said softly. 

Hook smiled too, something even warmer. Because Henry was nowhere in earshot, and she used his name.

Because she was also realizing that he had been the first person, other than perhaps Henry, to believe in her.

And before she could think twice about it, throwing a look over her shoulder to make sure Henry wasn’t looking their way, Emma stepped toward him, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

He stared at her in utter shock.

Breezing past it, trying to keep the heat from rising to her cheeks, Emma said, “So you’ll watch Henry?”

He looked like he was torn from a daze. Shaking himself from it, he said, “Ah—aye, of course.” 

“Thanks,” she whispered. She turned to get Henry, when Hook said, “Emma.”

She turned. 

“I’d be open to a rematch,” he said, that grin back at his lips.

Emma smiled. “I would, too.”    

Hook grinned. 

She left Henry with Hook, then walked away, heading toward her magic lesson with Regina. 

And found that she might be open to more than just a rematch.

tag list: @kmomof4 @justanother-unluckysoul @klynn-stormz @stahlop @ilovemesomekillianjones @hookmecaptain @sotangledupinit @tiganasummertree @eddisfargo @anmylica @pirateprincessofpizza @cs-rylie @elfiola

[takemetothemoon-fics]

Perfectly safe

Title: Perfectly safe

Pairing: Killian Jones x reader

Word count: 863

Warnings: alcohol

Tags: Fluff, a loooot of flirting

Synopsis: Reader get's really drunk, and needs Hook to take care of her.

A/N: I am quite braindead so forgive me if I make some mistakes or anything in that direction.... Once again, enjoy reading :) btw, figured out the "keep reading" thing, so now it's not that long hihi

MASTERLIST

In the end, you are grateful in a way. If you wouldn't have gotten that shitfaced, you would never have met him

You are sitting in a tavern. It's late. You felt lonely, and since you didn't have a person to solve this problem with, you decided to use your only friend available. Alcohol.

He's sitting in a corner of a bar, with his crew. He's had a few ales, but is acceptably sober. He notices a person with y/h/c hair sitting at the bar, all by themself. He walks over to you, and from this angle, he can tell you've had one too many.

"Hello darling." He says, in a flirtatious way, trying to asses your state.

"Hello sir." your words are slurred. You look to the man who appeared next to you, not having a clue who he is.

"Are you alright, my lady?" He asks, his brow slightly raised, his voice deep and gentle. he can tell by the way you're staring at him, and your speech, that you've had too much to drink, but he's a gentleman, and you've drawn his attention with your beauty. He takes the opportunity to lean in closer to see the color of your eyes.

"I'm fiiiine"

"You are anything but, darling, let me escort you home"

"I do not," you hiccup, "need escorting home." you switch up the way you sit, showing him that you are fine, but the act does not last long.

"My, my, you're a feisty one, aren't you?" he says, letting out a chuckle. He takes a moment to observe you, a curious look on his face. You are quite the sight, that's for sure. He leans in a bit close to you, looking deep into your eyes. "The only thing you need to do, is trust me." he has a devilish smile on his face, and then he tries to take your hand.

You pull your hand back. "I do not need anything from you."

"Are you quite sure, my fair lady?" He says, his voice sweet, yet with a small edge of authority. "My offer is still open, if it is of your desire", He says in a seductive tone - one that would have a lesser person weak in the knees, so to speak, but you are much braver than the usual ladies he pursues.

"Leaaaveee" You push your hand out, in an attempt to push him away. You miss completely causing you to fall.

"Hm," He grunts as he catches you before you hit the ground. "That was most unladylike", He says teasingly, but with an air of seriousness. He lifts you up and holds you steady under the arms, letting you rest against his chest and begins moving towards the exit, assuming that his gentlemanly gesture had changed your mind. "We would not want to make a scene in this fine establishment, would we, my lady?"

You mumble something, but he can't make much out of it.

He notice how your breath is heavy, and the blush on your cheeks is rather intense. He gets curious. With a swift move, he puts you back on the stool you were sitting on. "May I ask what a beautiful lady like yourself is doing in a place like this, and all alone, at that?" He asks in a gentle voice, but his gaze is intense, and the slight edge in it makes it seem like he wants to know the genuine truth. It is almost as if he's a detective who has to figure someone out.

"That is-" Suddenly, you become aware of your surroundings. you notice people glancing at you and smile or snicker once they notice your current state. "I need to get out of here."

"As you wish, my lady", His voice is deep and smooth. "I'll take you away from this place. But, please, tell me, what's your name, lovely one?" he asks, taking an opportunity to move closer to you, as he wants to get his hands on your waist. You can feel the heat of his body as he stands this close, and it would be very hard for a woman not to be intrigued by such proximity.

"Y/N." you say shortly, trying to put an end to the conversation.

"y/n. A pretty name for a pretty damsel. Killian. Killian Jones." He says, as he lays his hand on his chest. "Is there somewhere you'd like to go that is more quiet?"

"I want to go home. Ssso tired."

"Then we shall", He says in a gentle voice, with a small smile. "I'll escort you home, my dear." He starts taking you to the door, and then, with some effort, he hails a carriage. He opens the door for you so that you can get in first.

"Please don't do anything bad to me. I am in no state to defend myself" you say, as you hiccup for the 1000th time.

"You will be perfectly safe", he says, a genuine, reassuring smile coming on his face as he enters the carriage with you. "I will be your escort and your protector through the night, and the nights to come…"

[loadedberetta]

someone take away my internet access!!!!

Assistant!Gaz and Assistant!Reader fighting for Boss!Price not realizing they could both have him!! I'm unwell!

"what do you mean he gave that sale to you? what did you do, suck his dick?" you scoff at the man with his desk opposite you.

"I'd say imagine how it was, but I'm sure you've been there more times than me" he hits back with a smirk and pushes the file organizer back to its place on the shelf.

"you're insufferable, Garrick" you roll your eyes and close a few unused tabs on your work pc

"you're the one to talk--"

the debate is broken up with Price swinging the door open, jacket thrown on his arm, and he's currently loosening his tie, face cleary showing distress. "both of you, my office, now."

the look you two share is telling.

[hellfire--cult]

Request:

i’d love a sequel where there’s a bit of a “day in the life” with the new happy family, or maybe like some vignettes of them getting settled in and making their new home their own? i would literally love any more content in this universe but there’s my ideas in the hat! 🤍

-

Your wish is my command 💚

Hook!Eddie x Fem!Reader

wc 3.5K

Read the main story here. 🌟

Summary: This is what happens after everyone starts living in the home. A recap of everything that's happened until we reach the present.

You can always support your writers by hitting THE REBLOG button! 💚

You can always send requests for this beautiful couple! My ask is open!

Hooked on You: After Story

Life after was something everyone had to get used to.

The boys had to be given names, full names, and thankfully Nancy who has some contacts in the newspaper industry pulled some strings for your “orphaned” family.

You didn’t give specifics, but told her that you started dating a man who was struggling to keep his family afloat. They had no records since they were living anywhere they could, and he just picked the kids up like strays. He and his best friend took care of the kids, and that it was a coincidence in meeting when you hired a ‘cleaning service’. 

But it wasn’t just any name. 

When you showed up with a big smile to your face at dinner, while everyone was enjoying themselves with the food, you had grasped in your hands the adoption papers for each boy in the group. 

Through tears, and smiles, they had hugged you one by one, appreciating your kindness but overall, calling you a different name. 

Mom.

Eddie, whose last name he chose was Munson, was stunned when he asked if they were going to call him Dad and each boy grimaced at that outcome, shaking their heads. After that Eddie had played a game of chase with the children, playing as the big bad bear, with his hands above his head, reaching for the boys.

That was another change.

“So, this is a– what?” 

“Prosthetic. It’s not normal to have a hook as a second hand here, and this has motor sensors, so you can basically have another hand!” You had explained to him, and he was stunned at the realization that he could have his left hand back. But sometimes, he discards the prosthetic, and goes back to his hook because he feels complete with it, that’s what he had told you.

Steve, now Steve Harrington, had acquired the second mom title. Whenever you were gone, or busy, or simply tired, he took care of the boys, played with them, and helped them clean the house. 

It was summer time, but you knew you will have to enroll the kids into school soon, but you had to teach them basic things, such as the ABC, numbers, some math, a little bit of history and biology, and Eddie and Steve listened intently, giving their own teachings here and there. 

You didn’t want your boys to go into middle school without knowing at least the basics, because then everything would be too complex, so thankfully, Robin, who is a teacher, happily comes once a week to give her own teaching to the kids. You found out that Steve and her had developed a strong friendship during the two months you all had been living together.

Another thing they discovered was music.

While the kids loved normal pop songs, except for Mike who had taken a liking to punk music, Steve had loved the 80’s vibe, sticking to it, and then some 90’s, but poor Eddie had not found himself in any of those genres. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was that he might like, but it wasn’t any of that. 

You had tried almost everything, latin music, grunge, rock, techno, but he was still not feeling any of those genres. You were in your room when trying everything in his music app on his phone, and you sighed when he, once again, said he didn’t feel anything from it. 

“I really don’t know what else to play Eds…” He grabbed his phone, which you had taught everyone in the house how to use and bought one for each of them, and started scrolling. 

“There was something about that Rock genre that you showed me… Something is there, but not fully?” You frowned in confusion at his words, and you had to think outside the box. You were showing him things you liked, so maybe, you had to show him things that you wouldn’t normally listen to.

“Hang on…” You grabbed his phone again and searched for a particular playlist. You grabbed his headphones from his night table, and urged him to put them on. He was confused, but did so anyways, and you pressed play onto the playlist.

Eddie’s eyes widened at the sudden strum of a guitar, wild, heavy, powerful, chord after chord. You bit your lip as you stared at his face, and by the smile that was spreading on his cheeks you knew that you hit the jackpot. 

He spent an entire day listening to Metallica. Then the next day to Slipknot. Then Guns ‘n Roses. My Chemical Romance. Megadeth. Rammstein.

The man was a metalhead.

After finding their own music, they had to find their own style. The boys almost wore the same things, sometimes jeans, sometimes shorts, sometimes plaid shirts, sometimes stamped shirts, sneakers… Steve had gone for the rich boy vibe, as you called it. He likes polos, dress pants, tight denims, sweaters, maybe a cardigan.

Now Eddie, you were surprised. He liked everything black, ripped, and he loved the sound of chains as an accessory on his hip. When he found out there were shirts of the bands he started to like, he bought a ton of them, some in white, some in black. One thing that stayed authentic of Eddie, was the black bandana, which he sometimes uses on his head still, or he puts it in his back pocket.

But one of your favorite things in the whole day was going into your room, to finally be alone with him. He was always reading a book, and you came to find out that he loved fantasy. It was funny, because he came out of a fairytale himself, but yet he loves those kinds of books. He devoured Tolkien in a week. 

He would always put whatever he was reading down to welcome you into bed, embracing you in his arms, gentle kisses that always turned into heated ones because that’s another thing that happened. He couldn’t keep himself from touching you. 

And you didn’t want him to. The boys at first made gagging noises whenever he came into the kitchen for breakfast and gave you a morning kiss, lingering there more than it should, but they soon got used to it. Whenever he could, he was wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close, kissing your neck, your face, your shoulder, anywhere he saw skin. 

So you had to introduce him to condoms.

He wasn’t a fan of them, but when you remembered you two didn’t use protection in Neverland, he told you to not worry. In Neverland time is completely stopped, as well as your cycle, and that would explain why you didn’t have periods while being there. You were in such a blissful experience that you didn’t even remember about your period.

But in this world, you could get pregnant, and even if you want a kid of your own with Eddie, there was still so much to get used to for him. But still, it didn’t forbid him from touching every single night, wanting to drown himself in you, and you weren’t complaining. He was always up for trying new things, and you both had discovered many together.

You taught Eddie and Steve how to drive, but there wasn’t much for you to teach because as soon as they touched the steering wheel, they immediately got the hang of it, and Eddie even described it as easy as sailing a ship. You couldn’t believe a former pirate said a car feels like a ship. With the prosthetic, driving an automatic is very easy for Eddie. 

The kids love the pool, you bought a slide for it and a lot of floaters for them to swim in. You noticed how maternal you had gotten ever since getting the kids into your life, and it wasn’t something you thought of ever having. Now, you want more, for some reason. You always have to shake that thought out of your head because that would end badly.

Another thing you did, not very recommended in the summer, was getting a tattoo. You had tattooed your grandma’s drawing of Neverland. You knew there was a diary of hers, and she sometimes read the story from her own head, and sometimes from there and showed you the drawing. She explained she could see the island at the top of the clouds, while flying with Peter.

So you outlined it and tattooed it on your wrist. 

When Eddie saw it, he was immediately interested, knowing about tattoos but the tribe were the only people that knew how to do it. You decided to visit the shop once with him, and he got a hook tattoo on his ankle, to test the waters of the pain. After a week, you couldn’t find him anywhere for three hours, sending you into a panic, only for him to return with six more tattoos on his body, with a wide grin on his face.

“It's summer! One is already bad, you got seven!” You had yelled at him, but he just shrugged and grinned down at you.

“I’ll get even more in winter.” 

But summer was ending, as well as the boys started becoming nervous of going to school, which was a private one so they had to use uniforms for it. They complained of course, but you had promised them that the teacher they were having was going to be very patient and that you met the kids' parents of the class already and they all seemed nice and welcoming. 

A week before the start of classes, you decided it was time for a last pool party, and so, you invited Nancy, Jonathan and Robin over, where Robin mentioned she had a long distance friend visiting and she had asked if they could come over with their little sister, to which you agreed. 

So now, you were cutting the vegetables for the salads in your kitchen, as Jonathan helped Will start the fire outside for the BBQ. For some reason, Jonathan had taken particular liking to one of your kids, but that’s good, because Nancy had found herself teaching Mike how to play some chess, and Dustin was already attached to Eddie like a Piranha. 

One of your boys, though, was sitting alone on one of the lawn chairs, looking at nothing in particular, just the ripples of the water happening  on the pool. You put down your knife, ready to go talk to Lucas, but the doorbell rings, making your head snap that way.

“Don’t worry, I got it!” Steve yells as he rushes towards the door, opening it, to see Robin, a smile on his face as they hug tightly.

“Hi there Dingus.” She pulled away from the hug to point behind her back. “My friend is unloading something and he’s right here, okay?” 

“Yeah sure.” Steve turns his head to guide Robin towards the kitchen and garden where everyone is and she immediately bolts away. He hears a clear of throat and his head turns back around, only for his eyes to land on blue ones, knocking the breath out of his lungs in an instant.

“Hi, um… Hope we’re not intruding, it’s just, I’m with my sister and I couldn’t leave her alone.” The blonde man says, looking at Steve with the same hazed look in his eyes. Steve shook his head to come out of the trance he was in and smiled, putting his hand out for a shake.

“No issue at all! The boys will love her. I’m Steve by the way.” The other man smiles, his white teeth showing off as he presses his hand against Steve’s, electricity immediately coursing through their bodies.

“I’m Billy.”

“Are you going to keep flirting or…” A soft voice says from behind him, making Billy let go of Steve’s hand with a groan, a blush appearing on his cheeks as he makes way for the redheaded girl to come forward. “I’m Max.” 

“Oh hi–” Steve felt the presence of someone else next to him, and he turned his head to see Lucas, staring at the girl with a dreamy look in his eyes. 

“Hi… I’m Lucas.” Max’s lips tugged slightly up at the sight of the boy, her skateboard in hand. “What's that?” He pointed at it and she smiled widely, walking inside the house, grabbing onto his hand to guide him outside where everyone was.

“I’ll teach you!” Steve could hear her yell as he let Billy in. He closes the door only to see Billy looking all over the house with a confused frown on his face. 

“This is big… You all live here?” He asks and Steve stands next to him, nodding as he looks around as well.

“Yep. We are grateful to her, you know. We would have…” He suddenly heard some footsteps coming over and Steve turned his head to see Eddie reaching them, with a piece of bread in his hand, his other one reaching out to shake Billy’s.

“I’m Eddie.” He greets and Billy looks down at the prosthetic hand, shaking it carefully with him, and when Eddie lets go, the blonde man’s curiosity got the best of him.

“I’m Billy– Um… how did that happen?” He asks, pointing at the hand. Eddie looks down at it and then back at Billy.

“Crocodile bit it off.” He shrugs and walks towards the kitchen once again as Billy stands there completely stunned. Steve’s eyes were bulging out of his skull almost, and he was trying to come up with another excuse because that sounded way too unreal and he didn’t want Billy to think Eddie was messing with him.

“Fucking sick.” Billy says with a smile and he looks back down towards Steve. The brown haired man lets out a sigh of relief and then nods.

“Gruesome, but yeah, sick.” Billy just stands there looking at Steve, his mind completely drifting away and Steve could even sense that, as the blonde’s eyes were just gazing into his, and that was making Steve’s heart accelerate rapidly. “W-What’s wrong?”  That made Billy snap out but his face was still the same, still staring as if his eyes were not to be trusted.

“I-I don’t know, you just seem… like you came out of a fairytale or something.” Steve couldn’t help the big smile and blush that spread on his cheeks, while Billy realized what he had just said, embarrassment filling him from head to toe, stammering on his words to try to save it but Steve was just laughing, enjoying the man’s company and voice. 

You were sneaking glances through the kitchen door, a smile on your face as you bit your bottom lip. Everyone has someone in your family, your big family, and that fills you with joy. You felt an arm creep from behind you, pulling you close to a warm body. You giggle as his face immediately snuzzled in the crook of your neck, causing your skin to grow goosebumps from it. 

“Eddie–”

“Don’t spy on them. Let my second in command flirt in peace.” He says in your ear and you turn around to face him, smiling widely up at him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“I’m just so happy… Everyday just feels like a dream.” You say to him, and he gives you a nod, a gentle smile spreading on his lips as he leans down to kiss your cheek, then the tip of your nose, expressing his love for you.

“I will never regret the day I thought you were Wendy and kidnapped you.”

“I should sue.” He fake gasps while shaking his head at you.

“Now, you’ve hurt me Angel.” Your eyes looked to your side, seeing everyone playing with each other through the window pane you had, and your eyes filled with tears at the sight of it all. Nothing could make it better. Nothing at all… Except.

You felt Eddie grip your side, giving it a soft press to catch your attention again. You looked at him and his eyes were nervous, full of doubt yet with determination. 

“Eds? What's wrong?”

“I know… The kids don’t call me dad… But–” He licked his lips while swallowing a big lump down his throat and your heart was almost out of your chest and you could hear its beating on your ears. He gives you a big grin as a tear already rolls down your cheek.

He grabs your hand and walks out of the kitchen to take you upstairs and into your grandmother’s room. He then opens the balcony’s door and steps out with you, the breeze already hitting you and the sun beaming down at your body.

“Close your eyes Angel.” He whispers in your ear as he lets go of your hand. Your breathing became heavy as you did as told, and you raised your head up, towards where the second star to the right is. You always wished on it, wished that it wouldn’t take your love away, that it wouldn’t take your children away, wished that everything was real and not a dream.

“Eddie–”

“Open them and turn around.” You did as told, turning to see Eddie on one knee, a box on his hand as his elbow rested on his knee. Your heart got caught in your throat as you looked at the diamond in the box, covering your mouth with both of your hands as tears started spilling out uncontrollably from your eyes.

“What…?”

“I want to be their dad. I want to be with you, forever, for as long as you’ll have me, or for as long as we live. You’re it for me Angel, you have been it for me from the moment you decided to fly towards me, towards the ship, instead of here.” He choked up on a sob and then took a deep breath to keep going. “I know it’s soon, but I can’t imagine my life with anyone else. In my eyes, into my future, you’re always there. You will always be there.” 

You dropped to your knees, as happiness flourished in your chest, smiling through your tears as you put your left hand up, putting it on display for him. You looked up at his big doe eyes, a tear slipping out of his left one as he looked down at you as if you were the only thing keeping him alive.

And you were.

“I’m ready to be Mrs. Hook.”

And when our journey is through, each time we say "Goodnight", we'll thank the little star that shines, the second from the right.

A/N: Remember you can still send requests for these two! I plan on making more little one shots for them, but this one is good so you can all know what happened after the return 🥰

Hope you enjoyed this magical little thing!

Song at the bottom is Second Star to the Right from the original 1953 Peter Pan soundtrack.

[riordanness]

better than revenge — [k.jones]

wordcount: 2.1K

warnings: none???

requested: no

“C’mon lass, you get what you want, and I get what I want.”

I raise my eyebrows at this. “Oh?” I question, sipping from my goblet, keeping my eyes on him.

“What do I get out of this?” I ask, my voice hard and my gaze resolute. If I knew one thing, it was to never let down my guard, never show weakness.

The man laughs, tips his head back and gulps the rest of his alcohol down. He looks me in the eye. “I’ll let you live, lass… and I’ll even throw in a few pieces of gold for your trouble.”

I stare at him for the count of four.

“Deal.”

Hours later, under cover of nightfall, I tiptoe down the docks. My leather boots are soft and worn from use, and I have perfected the art of silent footsteps.

My fingers curl around the hilt of my sword, ready to pull it from its sheath the moment I perceive a threat of any kind.

I silently go through my mission once again, knowing full well a single mistake will result in my death. If the pirates aboard this ship don’t get me, the man who sent me on this mission surely will.

I have a simple goal: sneak aboard the Jolly Roger, find a magical compass, and get out alive.

My eyes rest on the ship itself, its name painted in cursive letters right on the waterline, so as the ship moves slightly on the waves, the words appear to dance.

I slip forward, seeing no one on deck. With one swift, fluid movement, I place my right hand on the starboard railing, then I use the momentum from a scissor kick to propel myself from the dock to the deck, dropping without a sound onto my feet.

I quickly shift my body to the shadows, crouching down and moving fast, getting to the doors leading to the lower deck.

Opening it, I slip inside, shutting it quietly behind me. I hadn’t spent the greatest amount of time on boats in my short life, and I haven’t the faintest idea of where to search for a compass of all things.

Luckily for me, I have a locator. I pull it from my pocket now, a shiny white stone, glowing faintly. Apparently, the closer to the compass I get, the brighter the light will shine.

I turn in a slow circle, and when I face the corridor to my left, the brightness of the stone becomes more obvious, in a way I can’t describe. It didn’t become literally brighter, exactly, but it was suddenly very clear which direction I should take.

I follow the stone’s magical light, until it leads me to a small desk inside what I think is the captain’s chambers. Luckily for me, no one is at home. I’m daft. the entire ship is empty. The crew must be out for a night at the pub, and good for me too.

I yank at the top drawer of the desk, its hinges crusty and rough. When the drawer finally slides open, my eyes come to rest on the only object inside.

A golden compass.

I smile, and reach towards the compass. The metal is cool to my touch, and my fingertips glide over it as smoothly as if it was polished merely moments earlier.

I lift it up out of the drawer, dangling it in the air in front of me. I stare in awe, watching as the compass catches the light, glittering and flashing. Rainbows dance across the chamber’s walls, filling the room with colour.

I am just about to drop the compass into my dress pocket, when a voice behind me scares the daylight out of me.

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

I whirl around, shoving the compass into the deep pocket of my skirts. It was safest there; the pocket easily missed due to the many folds of my skirts. I draw my sword, and stare at the dark figure lurking in the doorway.

Shadows dance across his face, distorting his features. He’s tall, and I can tell his sword is also drawn, the blade catching the light of the only lamp in the room. My eyes drop to the lamp on the desk beside me. Without thinking, I blow out the flame.

It’s completely dark. I use this to my advantage, running fast at the doorway, crashing into the figure. We both land hard on the floor, and I scramble to my feet, ready to run.

But then, hands grab at my waist, hold me fast, and my hopes of escape crumble.

“You aren’t getting away that easily, love,” an accented voice whispers in my ear, before something hits my head, and I remember nothing else.

•••

My head pounds, and I dread opening my eyes. When I do, I immediately cringe in pain as light seemingly floods my vision, increasing my headache by tenfold.

I push myself up to a sitting position, taking in my surroundings. I’m in a bed, a simple woven blanket over me. I’m still in my normal clothes, which means no one changed me, thank goodness.

With a slight gasp, I hastily check my pocket. Of course, no compass. I shouldn’t have even dared to hope it remained in my possession. Of course that pirate would have taken it back.

Speaking of that pirate, I frown. Turning over all the events of last night (or what I assume was the last night; I’m not sure how much time has passed since I was knocked out; or even what time of day it is. Whoever’s cabin this is, they clearly hate windows), I shiver slightly. The memory of that voice in my ear, whispering seductively…

I shake myself, and climb out of the bed. I must find that compass, even if I am now a prisoner on this bloody pirate ship.

I leave the cabin, finding my way down the corridor, trying to find the familiar door that leads to the upper deck. When I finally find it, I can hear voices from outside. Pirates laughing and shouting and jeering at each other. At least half of the voices are obviously drunk.

My choice is a simple one, but I still hesitate. Remain a prisoner on this ship? Or risk dying in the battle across the deck?

My father always used to call me his little daredevil, before he died, so I decide to live up to his nickname for me, and push open the door.

The moment I step onto the deck, into the harsh sunlight, the chatter all around me stops. A dozen pairs of pirate eyes gape at me in curiosity. I wonder how often a woman has been on this ship.

Suddenly, someone drops down in front of me, swinging off a top with one hand, and landing on his feet. Startled, I take a step backwards, almost losing my balance.

The man straightens, and locks eyes with me. He smiles, but it’s not a nice smile. I mean, it’s nice. He’s fairly attractive, but his smile leaks devilishness.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, love,” the man says, and I would recognise that voice anywhere. He’s the man from last night, the man who knocked me out.

“I’m Killian Jones,” he continues. “Or as I’m not commonly known as, Captain Hook. To whom do I owe the honour?”

My eyes narrow suspiciously. I am a girl who has tried to steal from him, and yet he seems unaffected by this fact. My guard is instantly up, and I prepare for a fight.

“You are going to let me go,” I say stubbornly, wishing badly that I had my sword. I hadn’t noticed it right away when I’d awoken, but they’d taken it from me. “And I require your golden compass as well as my freedom.”

Killian Jones stares at me for a moment, then throws his head back and laughs.

His crew joins in the laughter, some pointing their fingers at me, some jeering and making stupid noises and gestures.

I roll my eyes at them. I have no time for men who aren’t my father. They’re a troublesome species that require a great deal too much effort for my own personal liking.

The captain gains his composure, and stares at me, rather dumbfounded.

“Love, there’s no way in hell I am giving you this compass, just like that.”

I narrow my eyes. “Then fight me for it. A duel. Winner gets the compass.”

Killian Jones raises an eyebrow at me apprehensively. “I don’t fight women. At least not with a sword.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Then this’ll be an easy win.” I step quickly towards one of the crew members, elbow him in the chest and pull at his sword at the same time, yanking it from its sheath as he stumbles backwards.

I launch an attack on Killian, my sword coming down on his head. In a flash, he brings his arm up to stop my blade.

My sword clangs against metal, and I stare in shock at what should be Killian’s hand… but isn’t. Replacing his hand is a shiny hook, which has caught my blade mid-air.

I blink in surprise. “You…”

“Yes, I know,” Killian sighs. “Captain Hook isn’t just a catchy nickname.” With his other hand, he gently pries my fingers off the hilt of the borrowed sword.

“Now, love, you’re going to stop attacking me, and do what I say. Or else you’re not going to get a very happy ending.”

I stand, deflated, and watch as he tells a crew mate to tie my hands together, and lash me to the main mast. I slump to the ground, a heavy feeling of defeat clouding over me. I watch in silence as Killian and his crew go back to their loud, joyful drinking. I seem to be forgotten, just like that.

I grit my teeth in frustration, but am suddenly aware of how loosely my bonds have been tied. Clearly, the crew member Killian Jones elected to tie me up was more than a little bit drunk. I smirk to myself as I wriggle my fingers, working at the poorly made knots.

Once my hands are free, I still, watching carefully, planning my escape. Most of the crew have wandered below decks now, and only Killian Jones and another man with a red beanie over his messy hair (who I guess is first mate), stand against the ship’s railing across the other end of the Jolly Roger.

Killian seems to bore of the first mate, and dismisses him, waving his hand at the man. The man disappears into one of the doorways at the back of the ship.

I wait, silent, hoping Hook will follow his mate. He doesn’t seem to have any plans of doing this. For a while, I just sit and watch him as he leans his back against the railing, picking at his metal hook, running his forefinger up and down it, tracing the sharp edges.

“You alright there, love?”

The break in silence startles me so much I barely hear the question. “I–what?”

Kilian looks up, meets my eyes, and smirks slowly, his chin tilting up a little as he does so. His tongue traces his upper teeth, his eyes studying me hard.

“I can’t let you go, you know,” he says.

“Why?” I refuse to believe him. There has to be a way for me to get out of this. Silently, I curse that random, awful man in the tavern for getting me into this mess. Even for a bit of gold and my life, I doubt this is worth it. A whole lot of hassle for not much gain, it was starting to seem.

“Because,” Hook replies, apparently not wanting to elaborate.

I roll my eyes. I am done with this rubbish. I stand quickly, my ropes dropping to the deck.

Killian’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t seem especially surprised at my escape. “What exactly are you going to do now?” he asks me, a glint in his eyes. Whether it’s from amusement or pure evil, I don’t exactly know.

“Get out of here and kill you,” I say, eyes narrowed.

He laughs. “Okay, love. You do that.” For a moment, he does nothing but play with the hilt of his sword. Then he looks up at me. “You know, you could always join my crew.”

I frown immediately. “What do you mean? Why on earth would I do that?”

He smirks. “Because… I want you to.”

I stare at him, unsure if he’s serious or joking. Then, I make a dumb decision and decide, “Why not.”

[donteattheappleshook]

(not so) young, drunk and alone 1/1

“Swan, it’s me. ‘M so sorry I ‘avnent called for… September, October, Nov… three months. Shit that’s too many months. ‘M sorry but I need your help. The sherrffeff won’t let me leave. He says you have to pick me up - well not you but ‘ynow someone. I don’t know anyone else. Oh! It’s Killian by the way. Killian Jones. I don’t know how many Killians you know but I’m that one. The dickhead who ghosted you. ‘Nway, if you could call me back that would be just - awesome. Yur prolly not gonna call me back. I wouldn’t call me back. ‘Nway… yeah. It’s Killian. Thanks.” 

(We'll give this a light M)

Oh hey, it's me, neglecting all the WIPs for something new.

This fic is a little birthday present to myself. It's completely ferral and I had very little control over it but I listened to Dial Drunk on repeat for 3 days and then this happened. This fic is unbetaed but thank you @the-darkdragonfly for answering all my texts and rambling calls while I was writing it!

A Silver hook story because apparently everything I write is now...

Read it on Ao3 (where my italics work)

******

(not so) young, drunk and alone

She shouldn’t be allowed to look at him like that. Not with a smirk caught between her teeth in a way that makes his throat dry and his pulse race. Not with the barely restrained promise of a laugh he’s sure would come out in different company that makes his face burn and and his eyes unable to meet hers. He can’t look at her when she looks like that, and she’s looking at him like that, and he looks - he assumes not great. 

So he focuses on the floor instead. The floor is safe. The floor doesn’t stir up conflicting and confusing feelings he’s managed to ignore for the better part of a year. The floor doesn’t make him question every terrible decision he’s made in his life that led him to this exact moment. The floor is… moving. It’s not supposed to do that. Although that’s likely the booze, he rationalizes. But the floor isn’t interested in being rational so Killian lets his forehead fall against the bars he’s already holding onto in an attempt to stay upright. The bars are nice, they’re cool and solid and it slows the spinning in his head a fraction.

“Big night?”

He takes a full ten seconds, counted slowly, and a few deep breaths before raising his head again and facing that smirk. It doesn’t help. The absolute delight in her eyes delivers the same gut-punch it always does - even if it’s at his expense - and the soft blonde curls that have fallen from her probably hastily pulled up bun make him ache to reach out and brush them away from her face just so he can feel the strands between his fingers. 

He shouldn’t have called her. He knew it was a mistake when he did it. He should have just let the sheriff keep him in this bloody cell. It’s not as if he hadn’t slept it off a night or two in another cell in another town throughout his youth. But he’s not so youthful now and the sight of the cold, hard bench, the thought of his aching back and the copious amounts of rum still coursing through his blood had been enough to send him over the edge into madness apparently. So he’d pressed the blurry little “absolutely not” in his contacts and called the only person he knew in this whole bloody city.

“Swaann.” He attempts a smile but it turns into a wince as he manages to slur the single word. When he works up to meeting her eyes again - so green, like the sea glass he used to collect on the beach when he was a boy and that takes his breath away every time - there’s a bit of pity mixed in with the amusement. 

He feels pretty pitiful. Forty-five and so stumbling drunk that he’d been tossed out of the pub and into a police car, only to be forced to face the one person he’d hoped the rum would chase from his mind. He’s too old to be acting like this. Even with his wits sloshing around in the drink he’d tried to drown them with he knows he’s too old to be acting like this. When you’re young, it’s funny, an anecdote for another time - spending the night in the drunk tank. When you’re his age, it’s just pathetic. 

“Alright, let’s get you out of here.” Her voice is sweet, with a laugh still hiding somewhere behind it, and it’s the first sound since he was brought here that hasn’t made his head feel like it was being scratched at from the inside. 

“You shouldn’t’ve come here. S’the middle of the night,” he tells her. She doesn’t belong in this sad little room in this sad little jail with the lightbulb that keeps flickering in and out. Still, he can’t stop the stupid smile that finds residence on his face whenever she’s near - because she is here. She came to get him. 

Emma raises a brow in a way he thinks she may have picked up from him. “You called me three times.”

He blinks. Fuck. He doesn’t remember that. He looks at the sheriff waiting a little ways back who nods in confirmation, giving Killian his own pitying wince like he tried to stop him. Killian sighs. “‘Mm usually much more charming.” 

She rolls her eyes but smirks again as the sheriff slides a key into the ancient looking lock. “Yeah, I know. Come on, Graham’s going to let you off with a warning -” 

He nearly falls flat on his face when the door he’d been leaning against swings open. 

“You sure you’re gonna be okay with him, Em?” 

Oh great, they know each other. He’d be more annoyed at her cozy relationship with the unreasonably attractive sheriff if he wasn’t a little bit grateful to the man who caught him and is still holding him up now. If he can just get his legs to go back under him where they belong… 

“I’ll be fine. Thanks.” 

Killian feels himself being passed from the man who smells strikingly of the forest, to the woman with the irreplicable scent of honey and drugstore soap that overwhelms him with the memory of every time he’s had his mouth or his hand on her skin. The fingers of his one remaining hand burn with the urge to feel her under them again so he balls them into a fist as she drapes his arm over her shoulders. “What about you?” It takes him a moment to realize that he’s who the question is directed at. “You going to be okay to walk out of here?”

Sheer determination not to make an even greater fool of himself than he already has in front of Emma Swan is the only thing he can attribute to both not falling right over with the nod of his head, and the steadiness of his first step as she leads him out the door. 

He stumbles three times between the building and her car. She catches him every time with a hand on his chest, her head turning so that her hair brushes his cheek and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t do it on purpose after the first time - though he can’t really trust his own thoughts at this point since they have to be yelled at him through an ocean of rum. 

“It’s your bug!” he beams at the old, yellow car. “I love your bug.”

“You hate my bug.” 

Oh, right. He does hate the car that broke down every other time they drove to his hotel in the middle of the night, the one that had broken down the night they met. ‘I swear I’m not trying to stand you up. It’s just my car is literally on the side of the road right now and the tow won’t come for another hour at least and there’s… smoke.’ 

It had been an interesting night, getting an Uber in a strange city to go pick up a stranded woman from a dating app who'd been on her way to his hotel for anonymous sex - a woman he found out had lied about her age when she pointed out that the 1993 beetle was older than she was. ‘I didn’t think you’d swipe right if you knew there was a whole high school senior between us.’ ‘Anything else I should know about?’ he’d teased when they were back at his hotel room where she’d managed to get him out of his shirt with impressive speed. ‘Is Anna even your real name?’ ‘Uhhh, about that…’

She leans him up against the aggressive yellow of the door as she fishes in her pockets for her key. Her cheeks have gone red from the cold and it reminds him of the flush that would sometimes come over her skin if he found the right words or the right touch. 

“You’re so lovely.” His thumb is tracing over her cheek though he doesn’t remember raising his hand or reaching for her. 

She snorts. “Yeah, okay, Jones. So not gonna happen tonight, but nice try.” This time her smirk is wicked and if he had any real control over his body or his brain he would kiss it right off her smug mouth.

“I wasn’t trying to do anything!” he swears, prosthetic on his heart as she unlocks the passenger side door. “I’m just grateful you came all the way out here to rescue me. My knight in awful yellow armour.” He gasps. She rescued him from a dungeon. “Bloody hell, Swan -” He speaks slowly, managing to get almost every word out coherently. “I’m the princess.”

He’s waiting for her to come to the same mind-blowing realization as he has, but she just shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Get in the car, your highness.” 

It takes an impressive amount of self-control for him to sit still and keep his hand to himself despite his racing heart and thoughts as she leans over to help him secure his seatbelt. Because he’s not supposed to have those thoughts. And his idiot heart can keep its cruel reminders to itself. He shouldn’t have called her. He hasn’t called her - not in months. Not since he realized his mistake and knew this thing between them had to come to an end. 

He’s missed her so bloody much. 

“Killian.” She’s beside him now in the driver’s seat and saying his name like it’s not the first time she’s asked him this question. “Where are you staying?”

“Oh, I…” Shit. He knows this. He’s got this. Think. There was a hotel. A big hotel with really good room service. Maybe they could go there and he could buy her room service. She always liked that. ‘Listen, I know I came over here for sex and that was great and everything, but there’s a freaking lobster grilled cheese on this menu so do you think I could be here for sex and room service tonight?’ She’d looked at him with that same wicked, eager smile and he was already reaching across her for the phone. ‘I feel like I should be concerned that you seem more turned on by this sandwich than you did by anything else tonight.’ ‘Well, it’ll probably take them a little while to deliver it if you want another go at out-seducing bread and cheese.’

“A hotel,” he tells her finally. 

“Yeah, I kind of figured. Which one?”

“Which what?”

“Which hotel, Killian? Which hotel am I driving you to?”

“Oh.” He knows this one! “Mine.” 

She sighs, forehead falling against the steering wheel for a long moment. He waits, not sure what he did wrong but positive that he did something. “Okay,” she says, sitting up and starting the car. “It’s late. You can sleep it off on my couch for tonight and I’ll drive you back in the morning when you’re less… wasted.” 

She sounds frustrated and he thinks it might be his fault. He looks at her carefully as she turns out of the parking lot, really looks at her for the first time since she walked back into his life a moment ago. Holding his breath against the eyes and hair and skin that always try to steal it away, he takes note of her messy hair, the lack of any makeup, the grey sweats he knows she likes to sleep in. He looks at the clock next, the late - or rather early - hour shining angry, bright and orange. He can figure this out. 

“I’m sorry.” He’s an idiot. She glances at him before turning back to the dark highway ahead of them.” “I shouldn’t have called you.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“No, it’s not.” He hangs his head, hoping he looks sincere and not just as pathetically pissed as he is. “I woke you up.” 

“Really, Killian, it’s fine. I was just going to bed.” He looks at the clock again and he envies her youth not for the first time since meeting her. He supposes he’s up this late as well, but that wasn’t by choice. That was the rum’s decision. The rum always makes bad decisions. 

“But it’s cold.” She must be cold. She’s always cold and he made her go outside. She hates outside. She probably hates him now. ‘Listen, I’m all for this whole hooking up when you’re in town no strings thing.’ She waved a hand in his general direction. ‘Big fan of everything you’ve got going on here. But it’s cold as balls outside, so from now on you can come to mine and I can stay inside where it’s warm, or I’ll see you in the spring.’ 

The smirking curl of her mouth tugs at her cheek but he doesn’t reach for it again. “Yeah, it’s November.” 

November. The last time he saw her it had been the dead of summer, both of them hot and sticky and barely dressed, stretched out in front of the single standing fan by the bed in her little apartment with no bloody air conditioning. 

He misses that apartment. Misses being there with her and letting her make him boxed mac and cheese while he complained about her eating habits. Misses the ridiculous sheets with little Millennium Falcons on them that she’d found when he was running late to meet her that one time. He’d made her wash them before putting them on her bed - ‘fine, mom’ - and then listened to her make Star Wars puns from between her thighs until they tightened so hard against his ears he couldn’t hear anything at all. 

And he misses the way she would smile at him when she opened the door, just before she dragged him inside, asking about his flight between heated kisses and frustrated hands. ‘I hate your stupid ties’. 

He’s a bloody idiot and he should have never stopped calling. Or he should have stopped calling a long time ago, before there was anything to miss. They had a good thing going, an understanding, no strings. He’d reach out when he was in town for work and they would meet for one or however many nights he was staying. No expectations or dates or sleepovers, none of the complicated stuff. And he’d screwed it up.

His feet slip dangerously against the icy ground - at least he’s pretty sure there’s ice, or the ground isn’t staying still again - as Emma practically hoists him out of the car. “You remember the stairs right?” she asks, ducking under his arm again to steady him. She fits well there with her arm wrapped around his waist. 

He hadn’t remembered the stairs. Though he should have, he’d complained about them enough times. ‘What’s so wrong with an apartment with an elevator?’ ‘Aw, can your old knees not handle it?’ He’d caught her as she bolted up the last few flights at his glare, laughing the whole way, and he’d spent enough time on his ‘old knees’ to make her take it back. This time, he’s not so sure he can handle it as he looks up at the rotating stairs that seem unable to settle on a height. 

“It’s either that or you’re sleeping in the lobby, Jones.” 

He considers it. “Is that David guy still your landlord?” The one who was particularly hostile to the man in his forties coming over at random hours of the night to visit his twenty-eight year old tenant. ‘Give him a break, he still thinks I’m the sixteen year old kid he illegally rented to when I first moved here.’ 

In fairness, Killian would probably judge himself too if he were in the landlord's shoes. He has judged himself many times for becoming a stereotype of Dicaprio-sized proportions. But the alternative would have been resisting Emma Swan, something he’s incapable of doing - or at least had been until that morning he ruined everything. 

“Okay.” The stairs are still moving.

“Hold on.” She takes out her phones - there’s definitely two of them - and holds them in front of his face. “I just want to get you on camera saying that I’m not liable if you fall down these stairs and break your neck.” 

“Is that really necessary?” He got that whole sentence out in one try. 

“I know you have a lawyer.” ‘You have a what? Wow, I knew you were older but I didn’t know you were like, old old.’ ‘I don’t think it counts if you’ve stolen from parent’s liquor cabinet.’ 

“Fine. Don’t sue Emma if I die. She’s very nice and doesn’t have any money anyway.” 

“Thank you.” 

“It’ll never hold up in court.” 

“That would be way more convincing if you could pronounce all your consonants.” 

The climb takes twice as long as it should and he’s forced to stop once when he makes the mistake of looking down and his stomach rolls violently. ‘I swear to god if you puke in my hallway I’ll leave you here to sleep in it.’

“I don’t remember there being this many floors.”

“It’s four floors. You’ve done two.” 

He might die.

He doesn’t die, but just barely, and when Emma leads him through the door and into the studio, she practically drops him onto the old couch. It’s not her fault; he’d made himself very droppable in the last few minutes. At least he landed on the couch and not the collection of wooden crates she’s glued together next to it. ‘That’s not a coffee table, Swan.’ ‘Oh, I’m sorry, is that or is that not your coffee cup on it right now?’

He doesn’t see her for a few minutes, his head too heavy to lift, but he can hear her moving around the apartment and he can picture her, walking through the kitchen on her toes. ‘It’s not weird, shut up.’ ‘I just thought you’d like to know that most people use their whole foot.’ 

When she finally comes back, he forces his eyes open, unsure who exactly glued them shut or how they did it without him noticing. Fuck she’s beautiful. Even through the boozy marinade he’s made of his head he can see that, and he wants to tell her. He could. He could blame it on the rum. But that would be a bad idea. Complicating things between them would be a bad idea. They’d already gotten complicated enough. God, he’s such a fuck up. Things were good, they could have stayed good. He just had to go and ruin a good thing with his stupid, greedy heart. 

“Here.” Two little pills and a frighteningly large bottle of water are set down in front of him. He’s not sure what the pills are but he’s also pretty sure she wouldn’t try to poison him even if he is an asshole who called her in the middle of the night after ghosting her for months. Pretty sure. The water sounds like a good idea. 

“Have you eaten anything or did you have rum for dinner?” 

“There were peanuts at the bar,” he tells her after guzzling down enough water to drown himself with. She shakes her head and walks out of his line of sight again. This time she comes back with a bag of crisps and he thinks maybe she doesn’t hate him as much as he thought because they’re the kind he likes most. 

“Eat that, drink that, and take those,” she orders, pointing to each with a stern look. “And then lie down on your side so I know you won’t choke to death in the night, and get some sleep.” 

“Yes ‘mam,” he salutes.

“Don’t get cute with me.” He wasn’t trying to be cute. But it makes him unreasonably happy that she thinks he is. She rolls her eyes at his probably once again dumb smile and repeats, “eat,” before disappearing where he can’t see her again. 

When she comes back this time her hair is down, falling over the shoulders of her oversized Jonas Brothers t-shirt she’s apparently had since she was twelve, and he wants to whine or cry at how desperately he wishes he could reach for her and what an idiot he is for being the reason he can’t. She’s carrying an empty garbage can, a blanket draped over one arm. 

“Do not puke on my rug. It’s the only new thing in this whole apartment and I love it more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life.” 

Killian leans over from where he’s stretched out on the couch that’s too small for him, running his fingers over the blue and white pattern and nods. “It’s lovely, very soft.” 

She’s silent for long enough that he looks up again, only to find her with her lips pressed so hard together against a laugh that he can see her chest lurch with the force of containing it. He frowns, looking from her to the rug and back again before realizing that he’s been stroking the rug with his prosthetic hand. 

“Emma… I might be drunker than I thought.” 

The laugh that bursts out of her is loud and horrible and obnoxious and it’s the best sound he’s heard in a long time. He’s missed that sound, the one that had shocked him so completely the first time he heard it that they’d both ended up on the floor, stomachs hurting and eyes tearing, neither able to remember what had set her off in the first place and unable to stop giggling like teenagers. 

“Aw, babe,” Emma crouches down in front of him with a pitying look before beginning to work the straps of his false hand loose. Her hand settles soft against his cheek once it’s free, smirk still lingering on the corner of her lips. “I don’t think anyone’s ever been as drunk as you are right now.” 

Her face is so close to his that his heart forgets how it’s meant to work, stopping and racing of its own accord. He wishes she would close the distance, that he could feel her mouth against his for the first time in months, or that she’d simply stay here with him for the rest of the night because the distance and the silence between them has been more than he can take. He doesn't know how he ever convinced himself that staying away would eventually make the ache for her fade. 

She smiles at him again, giving his cheek an affectionate pat before draping the blanket over him, the soft one he knows had been her prized possession before the rug. “Get some sleep, Killian. I don’t think anyone’s ever been as hungover as you’re going to be tomorrow either.” 

He’s not sure whether or not the way his fingers close around hers before she can pull away was his idea or the rum’s, but she’s looking at him, waiting for him to say something and he doesn’t know what he was going to say or what he was thinking. He just knows that he missed her and he screwed it up - and then he screwed it up again, possibly beyond repair the second time. 

Being in this city that he managed to avoid for months in the hopes that he could forget about her has been one of the worst decisions he’s ever made. To think he really believed that he could live here, that he could take the job that was offered and not be haunted by her every waking moment, not dread and hope to see her around every corner. 

Being naive enough to think he could ignore the draw of her is how he ended up in that bar tonight. He’d tried to figure out how many shots of rum it would take to make him forget that he loves Emma Swan, but it seems there isn’t enough rum in the world for that - or at least not enough in that bar. 

She’s still looking at him and he wishes she wasn’t watching him with a hesitation and a carefulness that hadn’t been there before. It had always been so easy between them; he’d never felt less self-conscious with another person in his life and now it’s all consuming. She’s lost the carefree warmth he used to see in her eyes, like he took it with him when he left that morning and didn’t come back. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He can’t tell if it’s relief or disappointment in her sigh. “I already told you, it’s fine.”

He shakes his head. “Not for calling you tonight. For not calling you. Every other night. I’ve been an ass and I’ve been a coward. You didn’t deserve that.” By the grace of whatever gods might be listening to his poor apology, he doesn’t slur a single word.

Her pause is long enough that he worries he said the wrong thing, and he can’t read her expression through the haze of booze and exhaustion swimming around in his head. He should let go of her hand, but he’s painfully aware that this could be the last time he gets to touch her and she’s not pulling away. 

She sighs again. “Why don’t we talk about this when you’re feeling better?” 

He lets go. “Aye, Swan, whatever you want.” 

She walks away. Beyond repair then. 

***

“Swan, it’s me. ‘M so sorry I ‘avnent called for… September, October, Nov… three months. Shit that’s too many months. ‘M sorry but I need your help. The sherrffeff won’t let me leave. He says you have to pick me up - well not you but ‘ynow someone. I don’t know anyone else.”

Killian jumps, heart pounding. He feels like he’s woken from a coma, body so heavy with sleep that parts of it aren't responding to him and never having been more confused than he is in these first few moments. It’s daytime, but it’s not morning, the light is too dim, and he’s asleep but not in his bed or in his hotel room, on a couch he recognizes but can’t really place. He has a vague recollection of things that may or may not have happened while he lay here; the sound of someone moving around the room, someone saying his name, a door shutting, an angry car somewhere far off and the bark of a dog somewhere close, the sound of keys and the strange sensation someone poking him in the face - hard. 

All of it feels like a fever dream now as he looks towards the tinny sound of the belligerent man’s voice coming from the phone in her hand.Oh no. Oh god what the hell had he done last night? He recognizes the room, the soft blanket he’s under, the long legs clad in grey sweatpants perched on the table in front of him. He doesn’t think he can bring himself to look at her.

“Oh! It’s Killian by the way. Killian Jones. I don’t know how many Killians you know but I’m that one. The dickhead who ghosted you. ‘Nway, if you could call me back that would be just - awesome. Yur prolly not gonna call me back. I wouldn’t call me back. ‘Nway… yeah. It’s Killian. Thanks.” 

If you’d like to save this message, press - there's a loud beep before another message begins to play. Bloody hell. He remembers the pub, and the cop - sort of - and he remembers that little line on his phone screen. ‘Absolutely not’. From the looks of it, he absolutely did. 

“Heey, isme again. I don’t think I told you where I am. Is’not great, Swan. They put me in the jail.”

He winces, sitting up carefully, head still light and disoriented. “Did I…”

“Mhm.” 

Another wince. “Are they all-”

“Oh yeah.”

“‘M not even that drunk. The sherfs just got a commpelex or something.”

“Swan, we really don’t have to -”

“Shh, this is my favourite part.” 

Killian hangs his head. “I - Oy, I’m on the phone, sherirff! Don’ they teach you manners at cop school? The cops in your city are rude, Swan. Hey! No - iss my phone. I can call whoever I want.” There’s a shuffling sound that stirs up a faint memory of trying to back deeper into the cell, then a small shout and he remembers why his ass hurts and that he’s probably got a bruise on his hip the size of the one on his ego. Emma has her lip caught between her teeth again, flashing him the same look she had when she arrived at the station. 

“Hello? Swan? Oh, right. Yur prolly asleep. You should be asleep, that’s good. I jus’ called ‘cus I…” For a blissful minute he thinks he might have had the sense to hang up, the silence on the other end dragging on and he almost breathes a sigh of relief. But then the message rings out again. “I can't remember why I called you. I think somethin’ made me think of you.” His voice gets softer and so does her expression for just a moment. 

“That happens a lot. I been thinking ‘bout you a lot, all the time, really. And not just in a sexy way and not just yer face.” Killian hangs his head. “Even though I’m a fan of your face. And all your other parts too.” 

He wishes he could just perish right here and now, wishes the dull ache in his head would become an aneurysm and take him out without a fuss. 

“I been thinking about those ridic’lus tiktoks you used to send me and when I was in meetings ‘n I jus’ wanted to be with you. I don’t know anything about Taylor Swift anymore, Swan - I don’t know how to find those myself.” There’s another pause but he knows better than to hope this is over, much of this coming back to him now in mortifying waves. 

“I’ve too many shirts in my closet now - It’s so many shirts. I always brought extra ‘cause I knew you’d steal ‘em an’ then you’d walk ‘round your kitchen in ‘em with no pants like yur a sexy Winnie the Pooh or somethn’ and I had to watch you climb yur counters while I had a heartattack  ‘cuz you wouldn’ jus’ let me get things off the top shelf for you. Bloody stubborn.” There’s a sigh over the machine. “I don’t want this many shirts, Swan…

‘Anyway I - What? Who does? Sorry, Swan the sherf is being rude again. He wants to know if yur picking me up. Are you picking me up?” There’s so much hope in his past self’s voice that he almost feels bad for him. But he also knows what a bloody idiot that man is and it’s hard to feel anything but the overwhelming urge to disappear into this couch and not have to listen to any more of his drunken rambling. “That would be nice. But it’s okay if you don’t want to. I’d understand. Gnight, love.”

To delete this message press - She hits a button. Message saved.

Killian braces himself for the next one. Gods, how many of them are there? But this time it’s not his voice that comes out over the speakerphone, it’s another man, Irish and vaguely familiar through the sleep and the unfortunately returning memories. 

“Hey, Emma, it’s Graham.” Killian’s heart drops into his stomach at the sound of another man calling her in the middle of the night. Of course she wouldn’t have sat around pining like he did, not for a man who treated her as carelessly as he had. Of course - “Listen, I don’t know who this guy is but he says he knows you. I thought maybe he was one of your clients but when I asked him how he knows you he just asked me if I’ve ever been in love...”

The brow Emma raises at him is equal parts question, challenge and amusement and he feels the blood rush from his face. Fuck. He wonders whether four floors would be high enough for him to end this misery if he just went out the window. 

“Anyway, just let me know if this is another Walsh situation and I’ll make sure he stays in here, alright? Goodnight, love.” Killian can’t even begrudge the man or the endearment he adds to the end of his message when he’s only looking out for her. Probably a good thing she has someone to keep old, drunk dickheads away from her. 

He hears another beep of her mailbox and braces himself for whatever’s coming next. “Hi, love, ‘m sorry for calling so much. I know I made too many ms’takes to be ‘loud to say this, but… I miss you, Swan… And I’d jus’ really like to see you again.”

End of messages. To - 

Emma shuts the phone off, setting it down next to her on the coffee table. She tilts her head to see his face which he’s currently trying to bury in his hands. “Sounds like you had quite the night.” 

“I thought I’d be more hungover.” His head hurts and he’s tired and his mouth is dry but he expected to be near death after the way he threw them back last night.

“It’s four in the afternoon.” Oh. He does the math of how long she’d let him sleep in her apartment after everything he’s done - after she picked him up. 

“At one point I had to make sure you were alive. But I figured if you were able to leave such eloquent voicemails last night that you probably weren’t in danger of alcohol poisoning.”

“Swan, I…” He’s fully aware that he deserves her mocking but he’s too humiliated to even begin to try and explain his behaviour last night. How can he without explaining everything right down to that morning in July where he messed up the best thing in his life.

She takes pity on him, giving a small shrug. “Forget about it. Everyone says stupid stuff when they’re hammered. Everyone calls people they know they shouldn’t.”

“No, Emma -” He finally lifts his head to look at her. “That wasn’t…” He needs her to know that wasn’t what this was, she wasn’t just some drunk dial in the middle of the night. He thinks of how many times in the last three three months he’s looked at that contact in his phone, her name replaced with a reminder that he should not and absolutely could not go there. She mistakes his hesitation. 

“You okay?”

“No.” He needs to talk to her, to apologize and beg her forgiveness. But he can’t find the words in his tired, muddled head to tell her without telling her everything. “I’m a bloody idiot.” 

Emma smirks. “Yeah, we established that last night - a bunch of times.” 

“I mean it. It wasn’t -” He rubs at his eyes, trying to clear the sleep and avoid looking at her. “I didn’t just call you because I was drunk. I’ve wanted to call you. For months. Last night just gave me an excuse.”

“You needed an excuse to call me?” 

He sighs. “I was coward enough to convince myself I did.” 

When he finally forces himself to face her, he finds her watching her phone, fingers wrung in her lap and lips pressed together tightly the way they always are before she asks something that’s answer matters to her. 

“How much of last night do you actually remember?” 

“Most of it, I think.” It’s been coming back to him in increasingly horrifying details since she played that first voicemail.

“You said a lot of stupid stuff.” 

“I know.” 

“How much of all of that was true?”

“All of it.”

She raises a brow. “All of it?”

“Aye.”

“Sexy Winnie the Pooh?”

A smirk tugs at his mouth. “I stand by what I said.”

He wonders which parts of what he said she’s focusing on as her silence stretches between them, heartbroken when he sees a little wall go up. This is why he stopped calling. He knew this would happen. 

“It’s fine. It’s not like you owed me anything. We weren’t -”

“Don’t do that.” His hand reaches out for her, fingers playing carefully with the fabric of her too-big sweatpants. “We may not have been in a relationship but we weren’t nothing.” He won’t let her excuse his behaviour, not after they spent over a year in each others’ lives only for him to disappear from hers. “I shouldn’t have acted like we were.” 

“So then why did you stop calling?” It’s the most vulnerable he’s ever heard her sound even though she hides it well and he can’t bring himself to look at her. “I liked what we had going. I liked spending time with you.”

“Aye, so did I.” Too much. 

“I guess I thought - I guess I thought we were friends at least.” 

“We were.” His fingers dance along her calf through the fabric he can’t stop fiddling with and he feels the muscle tense but she doesn’t pull away from him. 

“So then what gives?” The anger in her voice makes his gaze snap up to hers. Finally. He’s been waiting for her to be angry with him, she deserves to be angry and he deserves it too. It gives him that small flicker of hope he’d been unable to find until now, a hope that if she’s angry, it’s because she cared enough to be hurt. “Why did you just…” She gestures vaguely with her hands. Disappear. 

“Because I couldn’t do it anymore.” 

“Do what? Hook up? Jesus, Killian, I’m a big girl. You didn’t have to run away because you were over the benefits part of this friendship.” 

“I wasn’t. I left because I broke our rules.” 

“What rules?” 

The ones they’d so carefully established when they decided to continue this arrangement beyond the first and second time he saw her. The ones that were meant to keep either of them from getting hurt like they both were now. 

“The last time I was here, we fell asleep and woke up in the morning still in your bed and I…”

“That’s why you freaked out? Because you accidentally slept over? That’s a bit dramatic don’t you think?” He can hear the disbelief in her voice and also the relief but he’s not done. “It wasn’t like a hard and fast rule -”

His fingers curl around the back of her knee, squeezing as he draws her attention. “That’s not why.” He traces his thumb over the fabric covering her shin and he knows he has to tell her because he can’t do this anymore without telling her and he can’t go back to how things were. 

And he thinks that just maybe, she’ll want to hear it. Because as small and insignificant as it may seem, those aren’t her sweatpants, they’re his, lent - stolen - after a rather frantic afternoon in his hotel room six months ago where he may have torn her skirt in his haste to get it off. ‘You need better quality clothes, love.’ ‘Is this you finally offering to be my sugar daddy?’ They have his bloody initials on them - a strange gift from his lawyer friend. And she hasn’t gotten rid of them, didn’t toss them away when he did the same to her. She still sleeps in them. 

“I freaked out because I liked waking up with you, and I started thinking that I’d like to wake up with you every morning.” He’d been hot and sweaty and sore from sleeping on her old mattress but he’d looked down at the woman wrapped around him despite the stifling heat, her cheek pressed to his chest and her hair in his mouth and he knew that he wanted this, wanted her, maybe forever. He hears her small intake of breath, his thumb still stroking her skin though the fabric as though it’ll give him the strength he needs. “And I hadn’t felt that way about anyone since…” He can’t finish and so she does for him. 

“Milah?” 

“Aye.” His reason for never wanting anything more, love lost in the same instant that cost him a piece of himself. He’d told Emma about her, one night when they’d lingered a little too long entangled in the aftermath. He didn’t know the details of her reason, only that she’d been far too young and that he’d hurt her deeply enough to make her wary of anyone who claimed love or devotion. 

“I hoped that if I stayed away for a little while that it would fade away and that we could go back to how things were because I knew that if I told you I would lose you. But the longer I stayed away, the more I missed you and the more I wanted you and I realized it wasn’t going to go away - because I loved you.” 

Killian watches her for a reaction as he tells her the truth he’d been hiding from her for months and from himself for far longer, but she remains unreadable, fingers still wringing nervously in her lap, breathing a little shaky. But there’s no abject terror in her gaze as she waits for him to finish.

“And by then I’d avoided you for too long and it was too late to tell you or try to go back to how things were and I lost you anyway. Then I managed to convince myself that it was for the best because this wasn’t what you wanted and you deserved better anyway.” Better than an old widower with a used up heart who’d run the moment things became real. “But I thought you had the right to know that I didn’t leave because I didn’t care about you. I left because I cared too much.” 

Fabric slips from his hand as she stands, circling the coffee table and leaving him feeling untethered without her and with a barrier set between them. He focuses on the rug, her reaction expected but no less painful, as she paces the length of her glued together crates a few times. 

“Okay two things.” Her tone snaps his gaze up to where she moves anxiously and restlessly in the small space. “First of all, that’s the last time you make a decision for me.” He hadn’t expected this reaction. “I don’t need anyone to decide what I do or don’t deserve or what I can or can’t handle. If you want to know what I want, you ask me. You talk to me like the grownup you keep pretending that you are.” That one hurts but he nods. It’s all rightly earned. 

“You’re right.” 

“Good.” She stops, shoulders squared as she faces him from across the table. “Second.” He waits, the anger from before no longer sustaining her as he sees the wall she hides behind slip just a little. “You said you loved me.”

He’s not sure what answer she wants, but he gives her the truth. “I love you, Swan.” Try as hard as he did not to, he knows it’s not going away. And he’s not willing to attempt another eight shots of rum a second time to make sure. 

She nods. He waits, or she waits, he’s not sure who’s supposed to speak here only that he needs to know how she feels and he’ll wait as long as he needs to. 

“Well? Are you going to ask me what I want?”

“What do you want?” He’d give her whatever she asked for at this point as he watches her bite her lip and definitely doesn’t wish he was the one biting it.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Fair enough. 

“Look, I get running away from feelings - I’m very familiar with the concept. But the way you did it was really shitty and -” Her voice goes quiet, arms wrapping around herself in a move so full of self-preservation that it breaks his heart a little. “It hurt, okay?”

Her words, thick with betrayal and rejection, pierce sharp through his chest, painful and deserved as she avoids his gaze as determinantly as he’d avoided hers. God, he’s an ass. He’d pieced together enough about her past from the small glimpses she’d given him late on those nights where they were still tangled naked in her sheets and the dark lent them the boldness to be vulnerable to know that she’d been left before. 

He joins her on her side of the table, reaching to touch the soft, golden waves that he’s spent months wishing he could tangle his fingers in again. “I’m sorry.” He pushes them behind her ear, thumb stroking over her cheek like her skin could break beneath his touch. 

When she looks up at him her eyes are red and wet he pulls her to him without thinking. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, Emma feeling fragile in his arms for the first time since he met her. She’s a force, his Swan, a tempest that could devour a thousand ships and it hurts to see her storms wane. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, quieter, pressing a kiss to her temple as he brings a hand to stroke the hair at the base of her neck, feels her lean into him. “I’m sorry,” he speaks against her brow. “I’m so sorry, love.” His lips brush over the crown of her head and he feels her arms slip around his waist, holding tight to the back of his shirt. He holds her just as tightly, nose settling in the crook of her neck where he presses another kiss and whispers a thousand more apologies. “I’m an ass.” 

“Yeah, you are.” Her voice comes muffled from where her face is pressed against his collarbone and he laughs in relief to hear her tease him. He pulls back enough that she can lift her head to face him, eyes still red as he wipes at the dampness left on her cheeks. All he wants is to kiss her and spend the night and the next day and every day after that making this up to her, but he knows better than to push her.

Her hands slide from his back to his chest as she meets his gaze and takes a steadying breath. “I still don’t know what I want. You’re not the only one who’s bad at dealing with feelings and you just put some pretty big ones out there.”

“I know.” He doesn’t expect to hear the words back, not after three months of silence. But if she gives him the chance to stay and try to win her heart then he’ll spend forever earning back her trust. 

“But maybe, if you’re still in town for a bit, you could stay for dinner.” 

It takes everything he has to contain the ecstatic smile that wells up from his chest, afraid he’ll scare her off. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.” He’s not leaving her again. Not unless she sends him away. 

***

“When do you go back?” she asks when they’re sat at the kitchen island. ‘What, exactly, do you have against real furniture? Especially tables. They seem particularly discriminated against.’ ‘Do you see any room in here for a twelve-piece dining set?’ He swallows the bite of the boxed mac and cheese she’d made him cook ‘Because I’m still pissed at you and I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer through this.’ ‘Sadist. Can I at least add -’ ‘No.’  

Killian looks at his watch. “My flight was an hour ago.”

“What? You should have said -”

“And miss all the delicacies that Maine has to offer?” he asks, lifting his mismatched bowl. “It’s fine, Swan,” he adds when she looks genuinely concerned. “I’d rather be here.” He can get another flight at the last minute before he’s due back in New York on Monday. Getting his things back from the hotel, however, may be a tad more difficult. 

“That’s sweet and all but I think you’d also rather be employed.”

“Aye, well, I may not be employed there much longer anyhow.” 

Her eyes widen. “Oh god, don’t tell me you left them voicemails too.”

Killian snorts. “No, I’ve just… had another offer.” 

His heart pounds frantically as she asks, “where?” terrified that he’ll scare her off. 

“Here.” 

“Here?”

He nods. “I wasn’t going to take it, not after realizing how much I’d miss you if I was here. But, well, that was before I drank a full bar. And this town does have its benefits.” 

She gapes at him and he can see the thoughts racing behind her eyes. “You’re not moving for me, right? You want the job? Because I told you I don’t know what I want or if I can even do… whatever this maybe is and I -” 

He reaches for her hand, calming the rambling that had started. “I do want the job, but of course I’m moving for you, Swan. And I know you’re not ready to decide anything, and I’m not asking you to. But whether you do or don’t decide that what you want is me, I’m going to be right here while you figure it out. I’m not going to leave you twice, Emma. I don’t want to miss you like that again.”

Emma just stares at him, mouth opening and then shutting with questions that don’t find voice and he sits, stewing in the worry that he said too much, asked for too much. He swallows as she jumps out of her seat, his turn to ramble now as she rounds the island.

“I mean, I will have to go home and get my things and resign but I -” 

“Shut up,” she tells him, hands sliding into his hair and mouth colliding with his. 

He’s more than happy to do exactly that, wasting no time in gathering her up in his arms and pulling her close, returning the kiss he’d missed so damn much all these months, missed the feel of her soft and warm against him like this, for the little sound she makes when his own hand tangles in her hair just hard enough that he can keep he there a little longer.  

“Wait,” he breathes and her hands pause where they’d been working the buttons of his shirt free. “Maybe we should slow down.” There’s a part of him screaming at his stupid mouth right now for the words falling out of it. “You said you don’t know if this is what you want. So maybe we shouldn’t rush things.”

She barks out a small laugh. “You’re moving to another city for a ‘maybe’ and you don’t want to rush things?” He doesn’t really have an answer for that. 

Her brow and mouth quirk up in one devastatingly attractive motion that has him ready to go back on everything he just said. “This was never our problem,” she reminds him, fingers tugging the buckle of his belt loose. “We’re good at this part. Everything else is where we get messy.” She works the button of his jeans open next. “So just try not to make any more big confessions while you’re inside me…” She runs her teeth over the skin below his ear as she slides her hand into his jeans and he nearly chokes. “And we should be fine.” 

“Bloody hell.” His rational self may judge him later, but his current self has Emma Swan with her hand around his cock trying to get him out of his clothes and he’s already established that he’s not a very smart man. “I promise.” 

***

It’s a strange feeling to be laying here, wrapped up in an old duvet and Star Wars sheets with Emma’s head on his shoulder and her fingers drawing patterns over his chest. They’ve never done this part, never lingered beyond the time it took them both to catch their breaths before untangling themselves from one another and going about their day - or tangling themselves again. He likes it, but it’s strange, new, something he hasn’t done in a long time. Not with anyone. 

“This is kind of weird right?” she asks, breath warm against his neck. 

Killian laughs. Bloody mind reader. 

“Aye, a bit. I think I’m out of practice.”

“I never practised in the first place.” 

He presses a kiss to her hair. “But, it’s not bad, right?” She can probably hear his stupid heart racing as he waits for her answer. 

“No,” she shakes her head, sliding her arm around his waist and fitting herself more snugly against his side. “It’s not bad.” He can feel her smile against his skin, glad she can’t see the absolutely ridiculous one stretched across his own. They lay there a little longer, the room darkening with the earlier and earlier nights as he begins to dread the fast approaching hour where he’ll have to leave, until Emma shifts. “My neck hurts.” 

“My arm’s asleep.” 

She sits up and his arm is flooded with the sudden relief of no longer being squished, but he misses the warmth and the closeness of her immediately. He has two arms. Who really needs both? He’s done fine with one hand. “Where are you going?” he asks when she rises from the bed, reaching for his shirt that she tossed on the floor and he made himself leave there. ‘Do not fold your clothes while we’re in the middle of having sex or I swear I’ll put mine back on you fucking weirdo.’

“Thirsty,” she says as she finishes buttoning it. “You?”

“Aye, thanks.”

“Water? Or would you prefer rum?”

“Hilarious.” His stomach rolls, not finding her so funny. She certainly seems to think she is, smirking as she fetches two water bottles from the fridge. “You know you’re going to have to give me my shirt back this time. It’s the only one I’ve got.” At least until he finds out if the hotel hung onto his suitcase when he missed his checkout. “Unless you have the others squirrelled away here somewhere.” 

“I thought you had ‘too many shirts, Swan,’” she reminds him in a poor imitation of his accent and he rolls his eyes. She hops back onto the bed, climbing into his lap to sit astride his hips. His hand and wrist settle on her waist, the shirt in question riding up and making him groan at the feel of her pressed against him. 

“Aye well I’ve only got the one to wear out of here tonight and while you look infinitely better in it than I do -” 

“Like a sexy Winnie the Pooh, would you say?”

He sighs. “I’m never living that one down am I?”

“You want to show me your hundred acre wood?” Killian lets his head fall back against the headboard as she laughs herself silly. “I have another solution,” she tells him, hands wringing nervously in the sleeves of his shirt. “I was thinking, maybe, since you’ve already missed your flight, and you probably don’t have a hotel room anymore, that you could stay here tonight. And maybe we could give that whole waking up together thing a shot.” 

Her cheeks are flushed, freckles bright against the soft pink as she looks up from her hands to catch his eye. He kisses her hard enough that she’d have fallen right off his lap were it not for his arms holding her steady and close to him. 

“That a yes?” she asks, mouth curling against his and he catches that smirking bottom lip between his teeth like he’s wanted to since she showed up at the station. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

She nods and it’s him smiling against her mouth now. “For tonight at least. But I think there’s still a lot of grovelling in your future before it becomes a regular thing.”

He kisses her again, rolls her onto her back beneath him. “Then I’d better get started right away,” he says, lips finding the length of her neck as he begins to work free the buttons of his stolen shirt. 

“Well, you did promise you would write poetry about my boobs.” 

“I what?” He looks up only to see her wearing the same confused frown as himself before her eyes widen with laughter and she covers her mouth with her hands.

“Oh my god. You haven’t seen your texts have you?”

Fuck. 

*******

Tagging the usual people but let me know if you want to be removed or added!

@kmomof4​​ @elizabeethan​​ @the-darkdragonfly​  @undercaffinatednightmare​ @jennjenn615​ @dramioneswan​ @gingerchangeling​ @gingerpolyglot​ @kazoo5480​ @lfh1226-linda​ @csalltheway​ @xsajx​ @xarandomdreamx​ @onceratheart18​ @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook​ @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway​ @zaharadessert​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @justanother-unluckysoul​ @spartanguard​ @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche​ @jrob64​ @klynn-stormz​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @sailtoafarawayland​ @tiganasummertree​ @winterbaby89​ @hollyethecurious​ @stahlop​ @superchocovian @snowbellewells​ @xellewoods​ @sals86​ @karlyfr13s​  @ouatpost @skairipakomtrikru​ @lonelyspectator12​   @anmylica​   @alexa-fangirl-forever @inspiredbystardust​ @marcella2727 @paradiselady19​​ @koryandr​ @killiansprincss​ @goforlaunchcee​​ @motherkatereloyshipper

[notyourhetloki]

Can you write something with breeding kink for captain hook? >< with a ftm reader 👉👈

Imagine Captain Hook with a breeding kink (NSFW)

Pronouns: he/him

/NSFW Captain James Hook x Reader/

A/N: I LITERALLY GASPED OUT LOUD WITH THIS REQUEST omg thank yooou I hope you like it, Anon!

Warnings: ftm reader, reader has a vagina, reader's sex is referenced as "pussy" a couple of times, piv sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink.

—

Hook never thought about having children before, that is… until you showed up.

You see, he wasn’t particularly fond of kids, so he was careful during sex as to always finish outside.

But everything changed once when on an intimate night, you moaned for him: “Please, James… I want you to come inside me this time.”

Something in him woke up then, something vicious and primal, he didn’t quite feel like the gentleman he was known for.

“Oh? You want my seed inside you?” You were making love, but in an instant something shifted and then he fastened his pace.

“You’d like me to breed you, is that right, boy? Would you like to bare my children, my dear?” He tightened his grip on your thigh, spreading your legs more so he could pound into your pussy. He felt absolutely out of his mind, but oh he loved the feeling.

You moaned louder, the ache in your core grew as you felt your orgasm approaching, his words going straight to your sex. You were blushing, loving the way this new James Hook fucked you like an animal.

“Come for me, loverboy. I want to feel you coming around me…” his voice coarse and breathy, hair all messy and eyes dark with pleasure. He picked his pace even more and suddenly you came, rocking your hips as you cried his name out loud.

“Oh, my love… You feel so good.” His head rolled back, eyes closed in ecstasy. His hand gripped you with force, leaving marks as he moaned. “Take my come like a good boy, now…” And just like that, James came inside your pussy with a loud groan, hovering on top of you.

You laid there on the bed, breathing heavily as you regained composure. It felt incredible, you could feel him pulling off you as he came to his senses. “Oh my… A-are you okay, my hearty?” his gentleness coming back to him.

“Oh, James…” You couldn't help but smile, caressing his face and planting a soft kiss on his lips. “Trust me, I'm more than okay.”

—

[itsagirlwithglasses]

A Shadow’s Fale — Chapter Four

Azriel x Pirate Female!Reader

CHAPTER FOUR

Word Count: +3,700

a/n: I'm sorry for posting so late, I had a few rough weeks! Hopefully I'll be posting more regularly soon! I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: Mention of scars, drinking

You had been called for a meeting at the River House the next morning. You were pretty sure it had to do with what Azriel had found out about you. 

Azriel. The most confusing male you’ve ever encountered. 

He was hot and cold. Fire and ice. His constant mood changes giving you whiplash. 

You had not seen him after your encounter the night before. Nor Elain. You had no idea what he meant and you were even more confused about what kind of relationship those two even had. No one seem to take notice or even talk about it. 

Rhysand had flown you back to the House of Wind and then requested this meeting you were about to have. He didn’t say anything else about it and you were anxious enough already as it is. 

“Are you okay?” Cassian asked still holding you as you flew together. 

“Hmmm?” You answered distracted. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine.” He laughed. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” You narrowed your eyes. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“If I have the answer,” He smiled. 

“Are… Azriel and Elain mates?” 

Cassian gaze seemed to unfocus a little and his lips tightened in a line. The usual smirk gone as he became suddenly serious. 

“No.” He took a look at you as you nodded, then you were reaching the grass in front of a big mansion by the river and Cassian was putting you back on your feet. 

“Wow,” you looked around in awe, “This is beautiful… and huge.” 

“Y/N…” You looked at him once more, “Don’t mention it.” You blinked in understanding. 

“I won’t.” He gave you an apologetic smile and made you to follow him inside the house. 

You felt the wards as you walked through the door and you looked at the paintings on the walls, admiring. You knew that the High Lady was into painting but you had no idea she would be this good. 

“Are they all hers?” 

“Yes,” Cassian said simply, the smile, almost prideful, again on his lips. He guided you to a corridor that led to a set of double doors at the end. 

As he opened them he let you in and you inhaled deeply to see the people waiting inside already. 

Rhysand, Feyre, Mor, the female with the piercing grey gaze and… Azriel. 

“Welcome to our home, Y/N.” Rhysand’s voice boomed in the silence that was heavy in the air. “I believe you haven’t been formally introduced to my second, Amren.” He pointed to the female and you swallowed hard in recognition. 

“Amren, as in the horror bed time stories?” You spoke almost in a whisper and you saw the little grin she gave you. 

“I guess we’re both the same if we follow that logic girl.” She spoke, her voice a soft purr. “Except we are from two different sides of the spectrum. A pirate you say?” That made you chuckle. 

“I guess it depends, if the children really like Peter Pan they might resent me a little as well.” This made a few chuckles from the people around you and Amren simply sent her head back in laughter. 

“I like you, girl.” You gave her a grin as she saluted you with her glass on wine. It was definitely too early for wine but she didn’t seem to mind. 

“Now that introductions are done, we have serious business to talk about.” You nodded, “Y/N, you claim to have in your possession dread troves that were lost at sea,” You nodded again, “I allowed you and your crew to stay, shop and eat in my city, just like you asked, now I want to see them.” 

You looked around the room taking a deep breath. 

“I asked for an alliance.” You crossed your arms over you chest. 

“I’ll make you a bargain then,” He said darkly, his hands resting on the table in front of him. “You give me the troves, I let you and your crew go.” You snorted a laugh shaking your head in disbelief.. 

“No,” You replied and he narrowed his gaze as you mimicked him. “I’m going to fight in this war Rhysand, now you must decide if it’s with you or against you.” 

Silence fell once more in the room. 

“You sure have balls girl.” Amren said from your left but you kept the High Lord’s gaze.

“Are those your terms then?” Rhysand asked and you nodded. “I’ll send word for you when I make my decision then.” 

“You can’t possible be considering this.” Azriel’s voice came from you right. 

“Can I go now?” You asked ignoring the spymaster’s words as it somewhat hurt you. 

Rhysand waved his hand in dismissal. “Feyre, darling?” You watched as they clearly communicated something in their minds and then she walked over to you smiling. 

“Will you join me for a walk before you go?” You simply nodded leaving the room with the High Lady in tow. 

Rhysand might’ve told her to change your mind about this, but your mind had been made up ever since your father’s death. Hybern was your destiny to destroy. And no High Lord or Lady would take that from you. 

—

You walked alongside Feyre through the gardens of the house and stopped in a gazebo by the river. She sat on one of the benches and you followed suit. 

“I never knew happiness before I came to this place.” She said on a sigh and you looked at her intently. “I think if it wasn’t for him, I would be in a very bad shape by now.” 

“You mean Rhysand.” 

“Yes,” She was now looking at you, “Rhys is… a very good male, he doesn’t want you involved in this war with Hybern.” 

“Rhys,” You spat, “Doesn’t know me, or how much I need this, to fight them, to make them pay for what they’ve done to me, to my crew, to my…” You cut yourself off shaking your head. “I will not back off on this.” 

“I understand,” She said reaching out for you hand and giving it a squeeze. “I lost my father to Hybern too,” She smiled sadly, “During that first war, when we had to face them and we had lost all hope, my father showed up, sailing, bringing an army with him, he saved us somehow in the end… And yet, he was killed before we could even say thank you… or goodbye.” A stray tear fell on her cheek and you nodded in understanding. “I spent so much time hating him for not showing up… For not fighting and in the end he did… I know your father wasn’t the best of men… I’ve heard the stories but I also know you miss him… Even if only the good parts of him.” 

She knew exactly how you felt, clearly better than anyone else. You had bonded in a way you hadn’t expected. When she reached out to you cheek you didn’t even realize you had starting crying. 

“Hybern took way too much from us both, and I will talk to Rhys, we will fight this war, together.” She said pulling you into a hug and you welcomed it fiercely. 

A friend. In the midst of darkness you had made a friend.

— 

“If she wants to fight, then let her fight. She clearly knows the risks.” Mor said and taking a sip of her tea. 

“They are not trained, and let me not even start on, they are humans.” Rhysand said exasperated, “I’m not going to be responsible for their deaths.”

Azriel was staring at the tiled floor, lost in thought when Amren said. “What is it shadow boy? The people in the city can hear your brooding from miles away.” 

“Nothing.” He replied fast and Rhysand gave him a look. 

“What do you know?”

“It’s not certain yet, give me a couple days.” 

“What is it?” The High Lord insisted and Azriel adjusted himself on his feet. 

“I think they have some sort of magic… But I’m not sure how.” 

“Magic?” Azriel nodded.

“From what I saw, elemental.” Rhysand’s gaze turned dark, the inner circle members held their breaths waiting for orders on this new revelation about their guest. 

“Find whatever you can about it.” He took a deep breath thinking about his wife alone with the pirate. “Don’t tell anyone else about it, this stays between us.” 

“Feyre?” Mor questioned. 

“Not yet. If Y/N learns we know, she might turn on us. For now we play by her rules.”

“Until when?” 

“Until the troves are ours.” 

— 

Azriel left the meeting room going outside. He found her as easily as taking a breath. She had this beauty about her that made him flustered. That would make him think such ungodly thoughts he so deeply wished he could act on. 

But the rational part of him was screaming trouble. A human with magic? Why would she hide it from everyone if it was just regular fae magic? There’s history of half-fae, when humans and faes mated. Was that it? Was she embarrassed of her lineage to hide such a big part of it? 

Azriel wasn’t sure mentioning it to Rhysand had been a wise choice. He saw it as some sort of betrayal, and that’s why Azriel had been fighting himself over it. Was she a danger or a powerful weapon? 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Feyre approached him taking him out of his thoughts and he gave her a little smile and a tilt of the head. “What do you think about her?” She nodded towards Y/N who was still sitting in the gazebo looking at the Sidra.

“She’s trouble.” 

“I think she’s misunderstood.” Azriel cocked his head at his High Lady and she gave him a small smile. “Ever since she arrived everybody just assumed things about her… Yet, no one took the time to hear her out.” 

“You think we should ally ourselves to them, then?”

“I think they… she deserves a chance.” Feyre gave him a knowing look, “We all were given one.” She patted him in the arm and disappeared inside. 

Azriel took a deep breath looking at the female in the distance. She had her eyes closed and the sun was shining in her skin. She adjusted her hat in her head as she took a breath and then opened her eyes. Her gaze met his and her smile fell. Something inside him sank at that. Please don’t stop smiling. He wanted to tell her.

Realizing this he took a step back before disappearing into the shadows. 

He felt himself falling, not in the literal sense, but in the sense that would bring you to our knees and tear you to shreds. 

—

“We have a bookclub, me, Emerie and Gwyn, you should join us.” Nesta said encouragingly and you gave her a small smile. 

“I don’t want to be a burden.” 

“You are not! Meet us at 10 in the library,”  She said walking away into her rooms and you laughed shaking your head. 

You reached your own and entered taking your jacket, boots and hat off. You felt him before even seeing him. 

“Sure, you can come in.” You rolled your eyes as you turned locking eyes with the High Lord. 

“I gave this house to Nesta and Cassian but it is still mine, so I think I’m entitled.” 

“Sure,” You raised your eyebrows, “What do I own the pleasure of your visit Your Highness?” 

“I accept your terms,” He said, hands in his pockets, you furrowed your brows. 

“Just like that?”

“Feyre spoke to me, I understand you better than you think I do.” He let out a breath, “Do you wish to tell me more about it?”

You took a deep breath, Feyre had told him, or showed him, your conversation. So he knew your intentions, and you wondered if you were wrong about him altogether. If he was willing to accept your terms and let you fight alongside him, to finish Hybern, maybe you could trust him with the whole truth. 

You thought of Azriel, why hadn’t he mention it to his High Lord about your magic? Surely they would’ve confront you by now. Maybe you should hold on to that kernel of truth a little while longer… Just to be sure. 

“Feyre was very understanding… It felt… Nice, to have someone actually hearing me and not… Judging me, for wanting pay back.” You said carefully, he eyed you carefully. “My intentions are not malicious Rhysand, I only want my life back. I want to end them, I want to be free of this… Rage.” You shook your head not allowing your emotions to take over you. You felt your magic tingling beneath your skin and you took a few breaths controlling it. He looked you over curiously and you silently hoped he didn’t notice it. 

“Okay…” He said after a minute of silence. “When shall we retrieve it then?” 

“I’ll meet with my crew, we can do it in two days time.” He nodded in agreement and then disappeared. 

You took a shuddering breath and fell sitting on your bed and you cried. You let the emotions of the past few days take over and flow freely. 

—

You woke up abruptly from a dream about Hybern and your father. You sat up on your bed panting, a hand in your heart trying to calm yourself down. You had burnt the sheets around you and embers flew around you. 

The darkness outside told you it was way past 10, you had missed the bookclub with the girls. You felt so exhausted and you couldn’t focus on that right now. You looked around the room and screamed when you spotted Azriel in the corner of your room. Quickly covering your mouth and getting up from the bed you walked quickly towards him. 

“What are you doing here?” You scream whispered and he cocked a brow lookin you over. 

“I need to speak to you,” 

“It’s the middle of the night, can’t we talk in the morning like normal people?” You were flustered and a chill went through your back, the wind coming from the open window. You then realized that half your sleeping dress was gone and you quickly grabbed a robe to cover you better. 

“It’s important,” He insisted ignoring your panicked covering. 

“What could be so important that it can’t wait?”

“I want to know about your powers.” There it was. You swallowed and then let out a chuckle. 

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

“You know I know, and I know you know I know.” He purred coming closer to you. 

“Then if you know why are you asking me about it?”

“Are you half-fae?”

“No,”

“How did you acquire magic?”

“Family…” 

“You just told me you weren’t half-fae.”

“It’s… complicated”

“Try me” 

“Fuck…” You shook you head, “It’s stolen… alright?” 

“How?” You looked at him considering your options… Truth it is… 

You took a seat in one of the leather chairs and it did the same across from you. 

“A long time ago, my ancestors made a bargain with some high fae, they wanted immortality just like the fae. We had some elemental magic because of our side of witchcraft ancestors, however no immortality… The fae offered it to them but under conditions.” You took a breath licking your lips, “The conditions was that pirates had to stop stealing the sea and land treasures… However after the bargain was stroked, my ancestors broke it not long after… The high fae then cursed them, us, they took our access to our magic. My father found a plot hole when he allied himself with Hybern…” You got up and started pacing in front of him, “Pirates started stealing magic from the death… When fae die, their magic still remains in their bones… WIth a binding spell you can bind their bones to your skin and magic will transfer…” You took a shuddering breath removing the robe you had just put on. 

You then proceeded to removed your night dress standing in front of him only in your panties. He didn’t say anything. He had gone very still taking in what you were showing him. There were four scars, two on each side of your ribs. Ugly and salient, like they hadn’t healed properly. 

“He wanted his daughter to be his most powerful weapon… He didn’t want anyone to know until time was right…” 

“Your father did this to you?” His voice was so low you barely heard the pain in his voice. 

“They are the bones of four very powerful high fae who had elemental magic, air, fire, water and earth…” A tear escaped you and Azriel picked up your robe covering you up. 

“He deserved his death.” 

“I know.” Then Azriel hugged you and you sobbed in his arms as he held you tight. 

—

You knew by walking into the living room of the town house that the news had spread. Rhysand had accepted an alliance. However you did not expect to find you whole crew perched in the couches and drink and hanging out with the rest of the inner circle. You have a little smile as Bonny hugged you tightly and whispered in your ear how excited she was about all of this. 

“Your people sure know how to drink Y/N” Cassian chimed in making you laugh. 

“Well, yes, of course, but the real question is, can you keep up?” You winked at him making some of them chuckle. 

“Is that a challenge?” 

“Maybe,” you smiled and you heard Nesta mumbling ‘Mother helps us’ 

Soon enough Sebastian, Lobo and Ledo were face to face with Cassian and Mor. 

“We need one more to be fair,” Mor said eyeing the people around the room, “Az, come on” 

“Absolutely not,” He rolled his eyes and you looked at him amused. 

“You need to learn how to have some fun… Az.” He glared at you. 

“I don’t need to get drunk to have fun.” 

“You don’t need to get drunk at all, you just need to join, after all you are going to loose either way.” He looked at you with the challenge in his gaze and he took a seat next to Mor. 

“We don’t loose.” He simply said and then it started. 

Pint after pint of ale they all chugged it down. Your eyes were wide taking in Morrigan chugging it down with an easy you knew to not be natural. She clearly loved her drink and the amusement crossing her face told you she also loved the challenge. You took a look at your team as they emptied mug after mug. The score was tight and when Bonny called it time, your crew had lost for 5 pints. 

Cassian got up whooping in contentment picking up Nesta over his shoulder making her yelp and laugh. Morrigan was cleaning her lips with a victory smile and Azriel… He was smiling! Grinning more like it, but his mask was definitely slipping and his eyes… they were bright and set on you. You found yourself grinning back at him. 

After the talk and you calming down the night before, he left without another word. His demeanor felt… Heavy, confused and angry. At you or your father, you weren’t sure. But you knew anytime now the High Lord would know… and maybe you should come forward first, but as you eyes found his across the room, directly behind the spymaster you decided against it. 

Rhysand clapped him in the shoulder catching his attention and they exchanged a few whispered words. Azriel demeanor turned back into that familiar darkness and you looked away only to find Elain coming in your direction and settling down next to you. 

“Hi,” she spoke softly and you smiled a little at her distracted by the interaction.

“Hi…” 

“Feyre told me you will be going back to you ship tomorrow to retrieve some things… I still would love to come visit.” She asked politely taking you by surprise. 

You were still embarrassed by what she had seen. Not that you and Azriel were actively tangled but you could definitely understand the heated discussion could’ve been easily mistaken by something else… And even if nothing happened between the two of you… You knew something was up between the two of them, and it just made things so much awkward… 

“Uh… sure” you finally replied and she beamed. 

“Ah! I’m so glad!” She put a hand on your arm making you look at the contact point and giving it a squeeze. “I think we will be great friends!” She said and left you alone, confused. 

— 

“Tell me everything,” Rhysand’s voice boomed darkness as he settled down on his study. Azriel kept his back straight, sobering up fast from all the alcohol he had ingested. 

“I think we were wrong… About them.” 

“How so?” 

“Let me show you,” Rhysand only nodded easily entering the spymaster’s mind as he showed his the conversation between him and Y/N. 

“You sure?” The High Lord questioned. 

“I didn’t feel any deceit from her… And the scars,” He swallowed hard with disgust thinking back on them. On how they looked awful and distorted, painful. How they reminded him of his own torture. “You can’t fake those…” 

Rhysand nodded lost deep in thought. “What do you think I should do then?” 

“Let her fight.” 

“I’ll decide after we retrieve the troves… Only then I’ll be sure.” 

“Rhysand…” 

“I think you should stay away from her…” 

“What?” 

“You are feeling too much for her Az,” Rhysand stood up walking towards his friend, “She will only break you heart.” 

“I don’t… Have feelings for the pirate.” 

“You forget my gifts Azriel,” 

“She’s just a pretty face, I care for her as much as I care for the girls in the pleasure hall.” Azriel said coldly, pushing his true feelings away. Guarding himself, protecting his own heart. Not again. 

A gasp. They both turned their heads to door only to hear running steps. Azriel jaw locked in rage as he took the calm look on Rhysand’s face.

“You knew.” 

“It’s for the best Az…” 

Azriel shook his head in disbelief and turned stomping away. Trying to find her. Trying to find Y/N and explain… But what could he say? Nothing would change the fact he couldn’t do this right now. 

With a roar of rage he took the skies and flew, away. 

-----

I'm sorryyyyyyyy!!! Oh my, oh my, please let me know your thoughts!!! Rhysand is playing the devil here a little bit... What is going to happen???

Next Chapter

[wannabespacesmuggler]

Small Talk and Mediocre Coffee | Strike Out

Chapter Fifteen | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: You recently moved to Storybrooke and began working the morning shift at Granny’s diner. Meanwhile, Killian Jones has been working the night shift on the docks of Storybrooke for years. When his routine gets turned upside down, he begins to understand the simple joy brought by an early cup of coffee, as long as you’re the one pouring it.

Pairing: Killian Jones x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.5K

Extras: Playlist – A playlist for two idiots in love: a gruff outcast who hates coffee but now drinks it every morning because the waitress at the diner keeps smiling at him as they pour it.

Author’s Note: Decided to use my day off to work on a little holiday update for Small Talk and Mediocre Coffee. I'm actually really happy with how this one came out. Happy Holidays friends, I hope this brings you a little bit of joy! Also, I know some of my tags have been acting funky so let me know if they worked this time. Idk if it's just tumblr being weird or something on my end, but I'll try to fix it as best I can.

“You made it!” 

You let out a laugh as you’re tackled by a hug from Henry. You’re glad the game hasn’t started yet. After finishing your shift, you moved as quickly as you could to the school in hopes of catching Henry before the game began. 

“Of course I did!”

Henry pulls away and moves back to Regina’s side, who he was talking to before you arrived. You’ve met Regina before. She’s not quite a regular at the diner like Killian, Emma, and David, but she has come in a few times with Henry to grab dinner.

“Thank you for coming. Henry was so excited when you said you’d be here. He couldn’t stop talking about it all week.”

Henry’s face flushes as Regina speaks. He immediately crosses his arms over his chest, defiantly. 

“I did not!”

Luckily, he’s saved from further embarrassment as his coach calls him over to his team’s bench leaving you and Regina in awkward silence. Every time you’ve interacted with the mayor, Henry has been there to facilitate conversation. You shift on your feet and Regina seems to notice immediately.

“Emma, David, and Mary are already in the stands.”

She motions behind her and you give her a thankful nod before moving in that direction. It seems like the whole town has come out to watch the game today. The stands are packed with familiar faces from the diner who smile at you as you pass by. Eventually, you spot Emma in the crowd. She smiles at you as you make your way over and nudges Killian with her shoulder who is sitting beside her on the edge of the bleachers. 

Killian’s dark locks are covered by a light blue baseball cap that perfectly matches the t-shirt he’s wearing. You recognize the logo on both immediately as it’s the mascot for Henry’s team -- the Storybrooke Knights. It’s a stark contrast from his usual dark attire, but you have to admit that it’s undeniably cute how much he supports Henry. 

After receiving hugs from David and Mary, Emma slides toward her parents and lets you take a seat between Killian and herself.

“You guys are making me feel left out here!”

You complain to Emma while motioning toward her shirt which has the same suit of armor depicted on Killian’s. Emma lets out a laugh before placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about it, Henry’s just excited you’re able to make it.”

Wordlessly, Killian takes off the baseball cap he was wearing and places it gently on your head. You pull your attention away from Emma and look at him. He’s already looking at you and you attempt to hide the way your face flushes due to the tenderness in Killian’s actions.

“Can’t have anybody thinking you’re rooting for the other team.”

You playfully roll your eyes at the man and bump his shoulder with yours, earning a hearty laugh from Killian in response. 

Henry’s team ends up winning by a landslide in their first game of the season and the town is loud with their celebration. Emma invites you and Killian to ice cream, but you both decline, deciding that it’s more of a family affair. She gives you a hug before heading toward Henry and her parents, leaving just you and Killian together. Before you can ask him what he wants to do with the rest of the day, he slugs an arm around your shoulders and pulls you toward the direction of your bench by the docks. You smile and wrap an arm around his waist

You’re both mesmerized by the movement of the crashing waves. Usually, you find yourself at this bench with Killian late in the evening after the sun had already set. You haven’t had a chance to simply bask in the beauty of the ocean, as you’ve been so distracted by the night sky.

The silence between you and Killian is comfortable. You could spend hours just sitting here with him. However, a single thought has been bothering you incessantly over the last couple of days and you know you need to talk to Killian about it before you think yourself to death. 

“Killian?”

He hums in response next to you, not even bothering to turn his head. You’ve placed the baseball cap back on his head. A few strands of midnight black locks poke out from the hat, making him look younger than usual. Typically, Killian Jones exudes a gruff and weathered demeanor, but right now, bathed in sunset hues, he seems almost youthful in appearance. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Killian turns his head toward you. His features are flooded with concern: brow furrowed and jaw tight. Before speaking, his eyes roam over your face briefly, trying to get a read on you.

“Anything, love.”

“Are you happy?”

Killian’s expression quickly shifts into confusion. 

“What?”

You simply repeat your question, ignoring that you can practically hear your heart pounding in your chest. Killian leans back further into the bench as he takes a minute to genuinely think about your question. If Dr. Hopper asked him, Killian already has a bullshit answer ready. He’s good at that -- knowing exactly what to say to appease those around him. It’s a skill he picked up during those years running with Liam and his gang. But he’s not talking to Dr. Hopper or Liam. 

No, he’s talking to you. And he won’t bullshit you.

Killian supposes he should be happy. He’s got it pretty good here in Storybrooke -- a paying job and a decent place to call home. There have been times that he’s certainly had it far worse. He still refuses to think back to those lonely nights he spent locked up, wondering if he’d even have a life when he finally got out of there. He knows he should just be thankful for everything he’s been given and earned after his release, even if it isn’t the life he dreamed of when he was a younger man. Still, there is this thought in the back of his head that continues to gnaw at him: is this it? The thought terrifies him to his core; however, if there is one thing that does make him content with the life he’s created, it’s the people who he cares for -- David, Emma, Mary, Henry, little Neal, Herc, you. 

So, to answer your question, Killian simply shrugs his shoulders.

“I guess. Nothing to complain about, I suppose.”

You nod at his words. He’s not sure if that’s the answer you wanted, but it’s as truthful as he can be. 

“Why do you ask?”

The ghost of a smile pulls at your lips as you think back to the conversation you had with Henry. You decide to take a page out of Henry’s book and be brazen. 

“It’s just something Henry said earlier this week. He said that you’ve seemed happier since you met me.”

A smile spreads across Killian’s face as you speak. The boy certainly takes after his grandfather in one way: he can read Killian like a goddamn picture book. Henry may be young, but his intuition is far beyond his years. 

“Well, love, the young lad isn’t wrong.” 

Your grin widens as a flush creeps up your face. You reach out and place your hand on Killian’s -- your silent way of telling him that you’re happier because of him too. Before you have a chance to pull your hand back, Killian flips his over and laces his fingers with yours. Your face flushes entirely as you look at your intertwined hands. Eventually, you shift your gaze to Killian’s face and find that he is already looking at you. Your breath catches in your throat. No one has ever looked at you with such adoration before. You watch as Killian’s gaze moves from your eyes to your lips. Deciding to continue your sudden boldness, you lean in first. Killian happily takes your lead. You close your eyes in anticipation, but, before Killian can get any closer, his phone begins ringing.

You swear you hear Killian growl as he pulls away from your orbit and pulls his phone out of his pocket. As Killian answers the call, you let out the breath you were holding. You know he’s frustrated -- his tone is short and his jaw is clenched. Without thinking, you intertwine your fingers with his again. His posture immediately relaxes at the sudden physical contact. He turns and gives you an apologetic look. You simply squeeze his hand in response, before letting go as he hangs up. Killian lets out a long sigh before speaking. 

“That was Herc. We’re getting a big shipment tonight and they need an extra man at the docks to help out.”

You nod, trying to hide your disappointment; however, it is written all over your face. Killian frowns at the sight. 

“I’m sorry I have to go, princess.”

“It’s okay. Herc needs you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, just as quick as it began, the moment was gone.

Tags: @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @alexa-fangirl-forever @mossnomori @captainamericasinnocence @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @ceruleanrainblues @lily-d247 @victoria-a567 @drinkfantasy @thisismelayla @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @rinymichelle321 @aesteticthotiere @popcrone818 @helplesslydevoted @limelightliterature @unlikelyandrogynousghost @theslytherinwriter

[laianely]

This is the idea that I've been putting off for so long. And this is some kind of trailer for my fanfic - "Hooked Swan"! Finally made it!

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Burn The Ships (3/?)

A HUGE THANK YOU TO @snowbellewells FOR THIS INCREDIBLE ART. I wish I knew how to best express how amazing it feels to have someone make art for something I wrote. It is just the best feeling in the world. <3

THIS IS/WILL BE MATURE.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | ???

Tagging: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert (let me know if you want to be added or dropped)

Exhaustion did not lovingly pull Emma into a peaceful oblivion where she could rest and forget. Rather, it dragged her into a brutal storm - the howling winds tore at her, the thunder rumbled threateningly deep in her bones, and emotions best forgotten rained down on her. She was alone, abandoned on the edge of a forest. The cold rain seeped into her bones, having already soaked through her clothing, as she stumbled forward toward… nothing. She had no place to call home. 

In the way of dreams, Emma blinked and was on a beach. Her body ached as if she’d been walking for days. She wasn’t sure where she was going but walked on as waves pummelled the shoreline. It seemed she wasn’t alone, apparently, the storm would accompany her through these strange dreams. 

She turned toward the turbulent waters and her next step landed on a wooden board. Her stomach plummeted as the ship was thrown from the rolling sea. Emma desperately reached out, trying to find something to keep her on the deck as the ship leaned dangerously into the water. The boards were too wet, the sea too hungry for new souls… Emma was being sucked under the water, lungs screaming for air. 

I’ve got you. 

Cool, crisp air filled her lungs. She was back on the deck of a ship, once more. The angry onslaught of violent waves had given way to playful swells that lapped gently against the hull. No other soul was aboard the ship, but Emma felt contented rather than alone. A word, a feeling, that had never carried meaning to her wrapped itself around her heart followed by a consuming fear - panic - it would be taken away.

You’re safe, love.

The softly accented voice reached through her dreams again, wrapping around her as warm and comforting as a well-loved blanket. Emma yearned to snuggle into the melody of that low voice. In that strange way of dreams, she suddenly felt certain that the voice could protect her from the painful reality that waited to greet her upon waking. If she could just melt into it, maybe it would prevent her from losing that feeling she’d spent a lifetime chasing. 

Rest now.

And, at long last, with that voice and that feeling wrapped around her heart, Emma rested. §§§§    §§§§    §§§§    §§§§

The white wolf had been stunning, her fur seemed to shimmer with its own light source. But the woman who stormed out of his cabin the next morning was a sight to behold. 

With her blonde waves flowing behind her and her emerald eyes wild, this wild woman charged onto the deck armed with only his letter opener and a lot of swagger. She acted as though she were a rival captain set on commandeering his ship rather than a damsel recently rescued from Pan’s clutches. She had taken the liberty of procuring clothing from his wardrobe before launching her assault, the deep plunging necklines of his shirts and the way his soft leather trousers wrapped around her curves distracting him long enough for her to strike out with her borrowed weapon. 

Killian captured her wrist and forced her to release the letter opener in a quick motion. He’d offer to teach her how to properly wield any weapon of her choosing once they were better acquainted. Perhaps sometime after he was certain that he wasn’t in danger of finding the weapon buried somewhere in his flesh. 

 Sighing at her newest attempts to claw at his leather coat, he pulled her closer.

“I’m not your enemy,” he murmured to her as he wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her side to prevent her from continuing her attack. He tried to focus on calming her and gaining control of the situation rather than the way she felt in his arms and the way her scent stirred something deep within him.

“You’re safe, love,” he soothed. The woman stilled. 

Her frantic breathing slowed and the tension slipped from her limbs. The ocean lapping on the hull and their breathing were the only sounds for a few moments. It could have been romantic…if the situation were entirely different. 

“If you promise to behave, I will let you go.”  

She stared at him with frustration burning brightly behind her eyes. Her wildness and defiance stoked a desire in him - and his wolf - that he was becoming more difficult to ignore with every minute he spent in her presence. 

After a moment, during which she held his gaze with hers as if trying to determine the trick in his offer, she nodded in agreement with his terms. He reluctantly released her. 

The loss of contact left him desperate for any excuse to hold her again. He suppressed the whine his wolf let loose with a clearing of his throat. Then, with a bit of a flourish, he introduced himself to her. 

“I am Captain Killian Jones and you’re aboard the Jolly Roger. You are welcome on my ship for as long as you wish.” 

“HOOK?! You’re Captain Hook?” She wasn’t afraid of him, which seemed promising. Doesn’t mean she will love someone like you. Killian shoved away the taunting voice of his father and smiled at her as if she had said something particularly flattering. 

“Ah, so you have heard of me.”

She looked at him flatly, clearly not impressed with his antics. “Is this ship enchanted?” The abrupt question was a bit unexpected. Of course, the Jolly Roger was enchanted - to keep a course he set, to alert him of guests aboard his ship, to hide treasures from unwelcome eyes - but the enchantments were subtle and not something that should be so easily detected. 

He cocked an eyebrow to conceal his surprise. “I’m not giving secrets away to a lass who hasn’t given me her name.”

“Oh, so it is enchanted.” She looked around as if the spell work would reveal itself to her. She took a few deep breaths, frowned a bit, breathed in again, and turned back to look at him. “Emma Swan.” 

“Why are you sniffing my ship,” he hesitated before deciding with certainty, “Swan?” He smiled, the name fit her perfectly - and felt so right leaving his lips.

“Better question. Why would you use magic to make it smell so… incredible?” 

Killian scratched a spot behind his ear. What was the correct way to tell someone who woke up on a strange ship and wasn’t sure if you were another threat in the never-ending nightmare of Neverland or a possible ally that the scent they thought was part of a strange enchantment was a sign that they were in the presence of their mate? It seemed a lot to ask of anyone without adding that she had been Pan’s prisoner for some length of time before becoming the target of the most recent hunt. 

“The incredible smell of salt and fish?” Smee grumbled. A few of the crew laughed. Emma looked thoroughly confused. Killian wasn’t sure if her confusion was at his comment or at the sudden realisation that they had an audience for this little episode. 

Seeing as he’d completely forgotten his men still on the deck, he figured it was likely a bit of both. He did not want an audience for whatever was to follow.

“That’s enough from you, Mr Smee. There is a deck that needs to be swabbed.” Hook growled out. Grumbling, Smee stomped down the stairs to the main deck. The other crewmen fell into their own tasks and responsibilities understanding the example being made of the first mate. 

Emma watched all of this with a small frown on her face.

Once they were alone on the quarterdeck, she focused her piercing emerald gaze at Killian. “Do you think he really doesn’t smell that…?” 

Killian shook his head and answered softly, gently, “No, love, I don’t believe he smells anything but the sea.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, “But…you, you smell it?” The words sounded as though she were begging him to confirm that she hadn’t taken leave of all of her senses. 

“Aye.” He confirmed with a small smile. 

Her eyes widened, panic flashing momentarily before several other emotions followed in quick succession. “Oh.”

Killian winced. “Aye.”