goldenjuniper · 1 year ago
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their love language is touch!!!!
eclipse is from @naffeclipse’s cryptid sightings fic and their lovely design is by @themeeplord!!!
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naswoop · 7 months ago
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A Sunder (isat post-canon fic!) doodle and misc. Siffrins!
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shady-swan-jones · 6 months ago
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Captain Swan Fic Recs are back, baby! - April Edition
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Hello, cs friends! It's been like, what, seven years since I last did this? Who's counting. Enjoy the fruits of y'all's labour and some amazing stories. Keep writing, we need you
-Sophie
when Emma falls in love [from the vault] by @spartanguard
Inspired by "When Emma Falls In Love" by Taylor Swift, part of series based on songs from the vault
everyone's wondering why Emma doesn't screw the hot bartender already, it's not like he hasn't given signs. but with emma's romantic past it's not like she's throwing chances to anyone, scruffily attractive as they may be. yet, it's not her past that's worrisome. will they break the curse?
rated T | 6.2k words | AO3
Untie Me | captain swan fic | office romance | mature | 3/5 | 5.9k | in progress, by me
“Didn’t you pay attention to trigonometry, Jones?” she balances her weight on the stick, languidly, in a way that ticks something into his already drowsy brain.  “Is this the part where you offer to teach me, Swan?” he says, advancing to her. 
Read on Ao3 or ff.net
I, lost, was passing by - by @dykelilypage
Five years ago, Emma's father had given her a necklace for her birthday. It was a beautiful ruby encased in a golden chain, that sat heavy on her chest. It was safe to say then, that Emma was more than a little bit pissed off to discover that it had been stolen from right around her neck. The one stroke of luck to the whole ordeal was that she knew exactly who had taken it. Killian Jones. rated E | 6267 words
love scare by @exhaustedpirate
it's a little canon-compliant one-shot that i place during the six weeks of peace, more specifically, like a day or so before 4B rated G | 922 words | ao3
Expecting a Secret [3/3] by @walviemort
Summary: After the events of 3x19, Killian is at his lowest after being rejected by Emma. When Snow’s labor turns out to be a false alarm, Zelena offers Killian a deal: she’ll leave the Charmings alone…if he gives her the baby she needs for her spell instead. There’s just one hitch: he has to keep it a secret. At least it will only take 10 days, right?
The Heart of a Villan (5/5) by @beckettj
There are only two people that can make me care about football: Ted Lasso and this. Words: 6181 ~ AO3
Perilous Harbor by @veryverynotgoodwrites
Emma Swan is heir apparent to her parents' kingdom in the Enchanted Forest, and a powerful wielder of light magic. This makes her the most wanted woman in the realm, not only for marriage, but for leverage against the king and queen. While her parents have been able to keep her safe so far, an attack is launched on Princess Emma that leaves her no choice but to seek the protection of her worst enemy - Killian Jones, infamous captain of the Jolly Roger and his pirate crew. ao3 in progress 19/23
a work of art by @sotangledupinit
“I always have to clean up your messes,” she mutters to herself angrily, eyes glaring down at the red liquid on the floor.
Between Waking Life and Our Dreams (12/?) by @nachocheese-itsmycheese
Season 3b canon divergence: Storybrooke is still missing when Emma, Killian, and Henry reach the town line. AO3 T
The Fluffy Problem by @ineffablecolors
"Oh, I'm going to have fun paying you back, Captain."
ff.net
The Cure for Loneliness (4/?) by @laianely
Killian went to the world without magic to finally kill Crocodile, but instead he met Emma in Gold's shop. And his whole life turned upside down overnight.
E 16k words in progress AO3
Pan Says... (8/?) by @hollyethecurious
After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.
To Cleave Destiny by @iamstartraveller776
She was going to pass the night the same way she did every year in adulthood: by getting drunk enough to forget that the world was incredibly unfair. Ao3, in progress, T, 4k
Note:
Don't forget to comment and show some love. To me too. Come on. Anyone else who wants to be tagged can request it.
If you have more fic recs or more links, drop them in the comments and I'll include them. You creative mermaids, love ya.
@kmomof4 @caught-in-the-filter @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @justanother-unluckysoul @karlyfr13s  @snowbellewells @xarandomdreamx @klynn-stormz @omninerdgirl  @facesiousbutton82 @finmnsoh56​ @followbatb @killianxswan @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @stahlords @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jrob64 @beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @zaharadessert @bluewildcatfanatic @once-upon-a-happy-end @ultraluckycatnd​
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midnight-mourning · 11 hours ago
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🎃☀️🎃🌙 Dead Ringer ☀️🎃🌙🎃
Hi @baby-bloos!! I was your Secret Skeleton this year! Wrote you a little something spooky in the Sleuth Jesters universe, I hope you enjoy!!
Tagging @naffeclipse and @sunnys-aesthetic since it's y'alls au/aus (if that wasn’t okay please let me know!), I hadn't read Sleuth Jesters prior to making this, very much enjoyed what I did get through before I started writing, hope I did your characters/story some justice! 
I made a few little tweaks to stuff just to fit more with the storyline I was going for (the characters are the same, just some small plot things are adjusted) but obviously Sleuth Jesters and the Detective Au belong to the respective lovely people mentioned up above ^-^
Small content warning for a tiny bit of blood mentions and oil protrayed as blood mentions, nothing super major, just adding to the overall spooky vibe.
Had to post solely on Ao3 for better readability (she got long lol), have fun!
Word count: 8313
Talking about the story under the cut (slight spoilers)
I hope you like it Bloos!!! And again hope I was able to give SJ & the Detective au the spotlight they deserve >_<
Was very nervous to post this ngl 😅 but I like how it turned out! I'm a big fan of the murder mystery trope and couldn't help but incorporate it into my gift :)
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hollyethecurious · 1 month ago
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CS AU: Once Upon A Grimm (2/?)
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Summary: The world was far more complex than most people realized. Humans went about their lives, completely ignorant of the fact that there was a world of fairytales existing right alongside them. Well, not really fairytales. Not in the Disney sense, anyway. Many, like the Grimm brothers, had woven the truth into their stories, but the creatures they wrote about were even more nightmarish than their macabre and monstrous depictions. Creatures known as wesen. Supernatural, other-worldly beings who have always lived among humans and have always been hunted by those who had come to be known as Grimms. A struggle of secrecy, balance, and power among these species has existed since the beginning of time. This is a story of a man with his own struggle. The internal struggle of being a human, a wesen, and a Grimm, and the external forces that seek to eradicate one or all of his natures, especially those he tries to keep hidden. Fortunately, Killian Jones is not alone in his struggles nor his secrets. His personal savior, Emma Swan, has secrets and struggles of her own.
A/N: This fic is inspired by and will borrow from the NBC show Grimm. I confess I did not watch Grimm when it first aired, but absolutely fell in love with the show during a binge fest years later. If you have not seen the show, no worries! My beta - who has not seen the show either - assures me that it is not necessary. If you have seen the show, then I hope you’ll forgive the huge creative license I am taking with the material. This is not a strict Grimm retelling with Once characters. This is my own spin on the lore and cannon of both shows.
Sorry I am so late with this update. I underestimated how demanding real life was gonna be now that we are back in full swing with school. I'll do my best to stay on track going forward!
I cannot express how much I have enjoyed being a part of the @cssns all these years. Thank you to the mods who have kept it going year after year. We've had a terrific run! Huge shout out to @kmomof4 for always being my cheerleader and for her exceptional beta skills. A HUGE thank you and many fangirl squeals to my artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the amazing job she did on the cover art that accompanies this fic. Please go show her some love!
FYI: Because the show took cues from the Grimm brothers’ works, much of the vocabulary associated with the supernatural creatures was based on German or German coded language. For words like wesen and woge (which will be explained in the text) the w is pronounced with a v sound on the show. I’ll be using terminology from the show and more common creature names interchangeably within the fic.
Rated E (eventually) / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  / Prologue
Chapter One
Two and Half Years Later…
“What have we got?”
Killian approached the scene with his partner, Robin. Their mate and uniformed officer, Will, brought them up to speed, keeping his voice low as the men conversed on the walkway that led to the grand house towering before them.
“Grace Hatter. Eight years old. Never made it to school this morning,” Will informed them, reading over his notes. “Father says she left the house at a quarter to eight like usual. An hour later he got the call from the school telling him she was absent.”
“Do we know if he’s clean?” Killian asked, assessing the distraught man who was being questioned by other officers.
“No,” Will replied. “Dad’s name is Jefferson Hatter. We're looking into him.”
“Mom?”
“Deceased.”
“Okay. Thanks, mate. We’ll go have a talk with him.”
Killian and Robin continued up the walkway. When the father caught sight of them, he rushed down the front steps to meet them halfway.
“Are you the detectives?”
“Yes, sir,” Robin responded. “Detectives Locksley and Jones. Can you tell us more about your daughter? When you last her? What she was wearing?”
“Yeah, um…” The man took a moment to try and compose himself. His hand shook as he brought it up to run down his face. A shuddering breath filled his lungs and a sob caught in the back of his throat. “She uh, she left here about 7:45. She’s wearing purple leggings and an oversized, purple top that has a white rabbit on the front of it. She also had on a red hoodie and her backpack is pink and purple with her name on it.”
“Does she often walk by herself to school?”
The man, Jefferson, nodded, tears welling in his eyes. “Ever since the beginning of the school year. She wanted… She wanted to be a big girl this year.” He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the freshly fallen tears drops from his face. “I was reluctant, but the school isn’t far and normally she walks with another little girl and her brother down the block.”
“But not today?” Killian inquired.
“No,” Jefferson answered. “Ava and her brother are both out sick this week. Grace walked alone yesterday, so I didn’t see an issue with her walking alone again today.” His face reddened, the tears now cascading down his cheeks as he pleaded, “Please. You have to find my little girl, please!”
“We’re going to do everything we can,” Robin promised him, digging a card from his pocket. “An officer is going to stay with you as we canvas the neighborhood, but if you think of anything else, give us a call.”
“Th-Thank you, detectives,” Jefferson said, taking the card then following one of the officers back to the house.
“So, what do you think?” Robin said under his breath as they turned back towards the street and surveyed their surroundings.
“If he’s involved then he’s an excellent actor,” Killian replied. “I think it more likely she was grabbed on her way to school. The question is… where?”
The street was lined with houses on one side, facing a wooded park area. The little girl would have made her way to the end of the block then turned to go around the woods. The school was located on the other side, about seven blocks away.
“We’ve spoken with all the neighbors who are home along the route she would have taken,” Will said, joining the detectives. “No one saw anything.”
“Maybe she didn’t take the usual route,” Killian said, jutting his chin towards the woods. “Maybe she took a shortcut.”
“Dad was very specific about the route,” Will told him. “He said Grace wasn���t allowed to cut through the woods.”
“Yeah, and we all know you did everything you were told when you were a kid,” Robin quipped, slapping Will on the back before heading towards the woods.
The three of them followed the worn path, carved out of the foliage by those who had used the woods as a shortcut over the years. Although focused on the task before him, Killian could not help but acknowledge how fortunate he was to do this job with his two best mates at his side.
It had been a series of unfortunate events that had led them here. Two and half years ago, he and Robin had been uniformed officers at different precincts and Will, after washing out of the academy years before, owned a local bar. After being attacked and having his life, once again, turned upside down, Killian had spiraled a bit. Neglectful of his duty and spending too much time at Will’s bar had made him a less than stellar candidate for detective, despite his high scores on the exam. However, everything changed once more the night Will’s bar went up in flames.
Though it had been deemed arson, they still weren’t sure how it had happened. The explosion and fire claimed the lives of more than a dozen officers and detectives from both Storybrooke and Glowerhaven. In the aftermath, personnel had been reshuffled, reassigned, and reevaluated, giving Killian a second chance at a detective slot and transferring Robin to the Storybrooke precinct. Will, determined to bring the perpetrator to justice, had reapplied to the academy and finished top of his class before being assigned to the Storybrooke PD.
Although the arson case had gone cold, Killian and Robin, with an assist from their favorite uniformed patrolman, had managed to garner the highest number of closed cases of any rookie or veteran detectives within the city or its outlying suburbs. Robin often joked that the reason the three of them were so good at this job was because in another life they would have been criminals themselves - and therefore knew how their perps thought - dubbing themselves the pirate, the bandit, and the thief.
Of course, he had no idea that Killian possessed abilities beyond those of a normal human detective which gave him an advantage. Abilities he was currently applying in the hopes of bringing this little girl home safely.
When the trail forked, the trio branched off in separate directions. Once out of sight from his mates, Killian crouched down and closed his eyes, homing in on the sounds around him as he inhaled deeply. Over the years he’d made peace with his wolf side. It wasn’t always easy to keep the wesen reined in, or explain away how he’d been able to accomplish some of the things his supernatural abilities allowed him to do, but as time went on he found ways to balance his human and wesen side.
Not able to pick up anything out of the ordinary, Killian resumed his search further up the path. A moment later, Robin’s voice called out.
“I’ve got something!”
Killian rushed towards Robin’s voice, arriving alongside an out of breath Will. Both men were too focused on the pink and purple backpack laying among the ferns to notice Killian’s lack of exertion.
“Grace Hatter.” Will read the name where it had been monogrammed in bright pink, confirming it belonged to their missing girl. “She must have been grabbed somewhere in this area.”
“Careful where you step,” Killian reminded them. “Will, call it in and inform the others that we have a crime scene in Wonderland Woods Park across from the victim’s house.”
Will stepped away to radio it in, leaving the detectives to peruse the area.
“Killian, we got boot prints here. They look fresh.”
Killian noted the direction of the prints and commented, “He took her this way.” Setting off down the path, he shouted over his shoulder, “Stay with Will until CSU arrives. I’ll see where the prints lead.”
Once out of sight, Killian crouched down again and took in a deep breath. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention and a primal growl rumbled in the center of his chest. He could tell the scent was wesen, although he wasn’t sure what species. There was something vaguely familiar about it, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
Never before, since his transition, had he ever wished for the moon to be in its full cycle. If it were, then his sense of smell would be stronger. He’d be able to discern the little girl’s scent better, as well as her abductor’s, and he’d be able to tell which direction the two had gone once they’d reached the road on the other side of the woods.
Cursing under his breath, Killian made his way back to Robin and Will. The Crime Scene Unit had already arrived and the area was being cordoned off so they could work making casts of the boot prints. Killian eyed Grace’s backpack as it was being bagged and tagged so it could be processed for fingerprints. He wished he’d gotten a chance to scent it, but the K-9 unit was already seeing to the task.
“There isn’t much more we can do here,” Robin told him. “Will and the other officers will follow up on the neighbors they didn’t get a chance to speak with earlier. Maybe one of their security cameras will have caught them coming out of the park.”
“Aye,” Killian said with a resigned sigh.
Clapping Killian on the back, Robin suggested, “Let’s go get some lunch. By the time we’re done, more evidence will have been collected and processed, then we can focus on whatever they found.”
“I suppose I could eat,” Killian relented. Robin was right. There was nothing more they could do that the other officers didn’t already have handled. They’d need their strength and their wits about them for the long afternoon and evening ahead. “Where did you have in mind?”
“How about Aesop’s?”
Killian cocked a brow his partner’s way. “Aesop’s? A bit swanky for lunch isn’t it?”
Robin shrugged. “I hear they have a great burger menu.”
“Mhmm,” Killian hummed. Something in Robin’s demeanor had him dubious as to whether that was the real reason. “I suppose we could check it out,” he replied with a shrug of his own, followed by a wolfish grin. “So long as you’re buying.”
~/~
“So that’s the real reason you wanted to come here,” Killian ribbed in a sing-song tone. “The lovely and elusive Miss Mills.”
Robin’s cheeks flamed pink behind the bun of his burger as he took as long as he possibly could to bite off then chew a mouthful.
“You know this constitutes stalking, right? Why not just ask her out?”
Robin swallowed and chased the bite with a sip of water, once again taking his time running his napkin over his mouth before placing it back in his lap.
“You’re hopeless,” Killian exasperated, getting up from his seat. He shot a wink over his shoulder to his mortified partner as he approached the nearby table, teeming with lawyers in their power suits. “Miss Mills?” he said in a feigned tone of surprise.
“Detective Jones,” she said in a friendly yet reserved greeting. “Funny running into you here?”
“Aye,” he said. “The lunch burger menu was recommended to Robin and me, so we thought we’d give it a go.” He gestured back towards the table Robin was metaphorically trying to hide beneath. Miss Mills - Regina - gave him a wave which he awkwardly reciprocated. “I won’t keep you,” Killian continued. “I was on my way to the facilities when I spotted you and just wanted to say hello. Enjoy your lunch.”
“Thank you, detective. A pleasure seeing you,” she replied, though her attention was not set on him but rather still subtly fixated on his partner.
When Killian exited the lavatory hall on his way back to the table, he slowed his steps and his lips twitched up in a smile. Robin and Regina were standing at the table conversing as the prosecutor’s colleagues were filing past, on their way out the door. Regina slipped Robin her card, her painted lip caught between her teeth, and he accepted it with a full, bright smile. Killian chuckled to himself, eager to take the mickey out of his friend, when something in Regina’s countenance shifted.
She’d turned towards the door, prepared to follow her colleagues, when her entire body went rigid. Something rippled through her expression and Killian was taken aback by what he saw.
She woged.
Regina Mills was… a hexenbeist?
No. He had to be seeing things. She couldn’t have woged. If she had, the entire restaurant would be in an uproar, especially Robin. There’s no way anyone would have missed the gruesome sight of a hexenbeist revealing her true form. Unless…
No. That wasn’t a possibility either. The full moon wasn’t in cycle yet, so there was no way he could have witnessed a demi-woge. Could he?
Regina’s features returned to normal, but her posture was still stiff and on guard. He followed her eyes to try and determine what had prompted such a response and was stunned to see another woged hexenbeist casually standing by the hostess stand. She had flaming red hair and was dressed in a tight, green dress. When her human face presented itself once more, she wore a smug, slightly challenging smirk.
Finally collecting herself, Regina marched past the woman without a word or backward glance, but the red-haired witch watched her all the way out the door and down the block.
“Did you see that?”
Robin’s question shook Killian from his shock, but a fresh, confused panic spiked within him. “See what?”
“The text,” Robin said, lifting his phone for Killian to see. “We’ve got a body.”
“A body?” Killian parroted, attempting to get his racing heart under control while processing what his partner said.
He didn’t see it, then. Didn’t see them change. Then why did I?
“Not Grace Hatter?” Killian’s heart dropped a little as his mind finally caught up.
“No,” Robin assured him. “Not the missing girl, but the captain wants us to take point on this one, too.” He beckoned Killian to follow him through the tables towards the exit. “I’ve already settled the bill. Will’s waiting for us at the scene.”
Before heading out the door, Killian scanned the restaurant for the red-headed hexenbeist, but saw no sign of her. He tried to shake off the unnerving feeling her and Regina’s woge had elicited in him. The mystery of why he had been able to see it at all would have to wait. He had more pressing issues to concern himself with.
~/~
“Are you sure this is even a homicide?” Killian heard Will ask under his breath. “Looks more like an animal attack?”
For the second time that day, Killian’s hackles rose. The scene before him was familiar. Too familiar. He could remember, as though it were yesterday, making the same inquiry to the detectives working a similar scene. A scene that had led to Killian being attacked and transformed. A scene that had been declared an animal attack after the DNA had come back as inconclusive. A scene where no other evidence had been left behind except…
“We got a boot print!”
Killian’s entire body reacted in a ripple of goose bumps and a sharp inhale confirmed the truth as a familiar scent penetrated his sinuses.
It’s him! He’s back. The blutbad who attacked me. The blutbad who made me. He’s back and he’s killed again. He’s killed again and… HE’S TAKEN GRACE HATTER!
“Oi! Kill, er… detective. You alright?”
“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost, mate.”
Killian’s Apple apple bobbed painfully. “We need to go see the Captain. Now.”
It was a quick ride back to the precinct, though Killian’s silent stewing had probably made it feel longer to his partner. Robin knew him well enough to not pepper him with questions when he was like this, allowing him space to get his thoughts together. It didn’t mean his mate didn’t side-eye him with furtive glances the entire way back to the station, though.
“Captain Gold, do you have a minute?” Killian asked at the open doorway of their captain’s office.
“For my two best detectives? Of course,” Captain Gold said, gesturing them forward. “How’s the investigation going into the missing girl? Or is this about the body we found? A jogger who was a student at the local university?”
“Actually,” Killian hedged, still unsure how he was going to convince his captain and his partner of what he knew to be fact. “It may be about both.”
“Go on.”
Killian and Robin took a seat in front of the captain’s desk. Leaning forward, Killian began to fill them in on what he’d pieced together.
“A little over two years ago, there was a hiker who was attacked in a similar fashion to how we found the jogger today.”
“I remember,” Gold said, nodding his head. “That was ruled an animal attack, wasn’t it?”
“Aye,” Killian said. “The DNA was inconclusive, but that wasn’t the only evidence left at the scene.” Flicking his eyes towards Robin, he said, “There was a boot print. Just like the one at the scene today. And that’s not all…” Sitting back, Killian wiped his hand down his face and let go a heavy breath. “The same day the hiker was attacked and killed, a little girl went missing in Glowerhaven.” Robin’s eyes widened and Killian knew he didn’t need reminding, but the Captain still needed to know. “I know because Robin helped work that case and we were mates back then.” Setting his attention back on his captain, Killian continued. “Look. I’m not saying all these cases are connected, but we did find boot prints where we suspect Grace Hatter was abducted, and it all feels a little suspect to just be coincidence.”
Captain Gold tented his fingers in front of him, and his eyes narrowed at Killian. “I’m inclined to agree,” he said, after a few agonizing seconds. “It’s all too coincidental to not look into.” His eyes shifted to Robin. “Locksley, reach out to Glowerhaven and see if you can get a copy of the missing girls file from two years ago. Check it for any similarities to the Grace Hatter case. Jones,” he continued, focusing his attention back on Killian. “Follow-up on the boot print. See if the one from the hiker’s scene matches the jogger’s, then compare it to the ones we found at the abduction site.” With a dismissing nod, he added, “Keep me informed.”
“Yes, Captain,” the two detectives replied on their way out of Gold’s office.
“How did you put all of that together?” Robin asked. “Remembering that girl from more than two years ago who went missing the same day a hiker was mauled? I don’t think I would have put that together.”
“I don’t know,” Killian deflected. “Something about that night just… stuck with me, I guess.”
“Well, good pick up,” Robin said, clapping him on the back. “I’m gonna call GPD, then head over to collect those files. Check in later?”
“Aye,” Killian told him. “Later.”
It took Killian less time to confirm the boot prints were a match at all three scenes than it did for Robin to make it back with the files. Although it proved the crimes may be connected, the boots that matched the prints were a very common brand. It would be nearly impossible to find their suspect that way. Frustrated, Killian shot off a text to Robin and Will, letting them know he was gonna go out for some air.
There had to be a way of finding this monster.
Not that he hadn’t already tried. He’d gone back to the scene of the hiker’s mauling time and time again in search of any clues, hoping to discover the identity of the killer and the wesen who had turned him. Once the case had been cleared from homicide, investigators believing a wolf or mountain lion had caused the grizzly death, there had been little Killian could do inside the law. He’d been too preoccupied with the changes he was facing as a newly made wesen to pursue the blutbad on his own, and too worried about what his brother’s reaction might have been if he’d turned the case over to a Grimm. A Grimm who might have been able to detect such changes in his little brother.
Now, he couldn’t help but feel as though the jogger’s death and the missing girl were his fault. He should have told Liam about the rogue blutbad or gone after it himself.
He wouldn’t make the same mistake this time.
Digging his phone from his pocket, Killian dialed his brother’s number and held his breath as the call rang.
This is Liam Jones. I’m not available to take your call. Leave me a message.
“Liam. It’s Killian. Call me back. I’ve got a situation here that might require your expertise.”
Typical.
Killian’s phone vibrated in his hand. He glanced at the screen, expecting it to be Liam returning the call. Instead, the caller ID displayed Will’s name. Killian knew he’d been pouring over videos collected from neighborhood cameras, and he was eager to hear if he’d found anything that might help them locate the missing girl.
“Will? What you got?”
“Not much,” Will confessed over the phone. “I’ve checked all the cameras we collected from Tweedle Drive, the street the perp would have exited the woods from, and there’s nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Nothing?” Killian asked, defeated. “From the whole street?”
“Well, there’s a bit we don’t have footage of, but none of the videos show any car, truck, or van he may have used to move the girl. The only vehicle on the street at that time was the mail truck.”
“The mail truck?” Killian repeated, an idea coming to him. “Do me a favor. Find out who was working that route today and whether the postal service issues a certain type of boot for their employees' uniforms.”
“You think it was the postman?”
“It’s the only lead we’ve got,” he told Will. “If nothing else, the postal worker may have seen something. We should track them down as a potential witness.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
“Text me the name when you’ve got it.”
“Will do.”
A renewed rush of hope filled Killian as he made his way back to the precinct, but it was hindered by a fresh realization.
If the postal worker did turn out to be their suspect, then he wouldn’t be going up against their usual perp. He’d be going up against a wesen. A blutbad. And not just any blutbad… his sire. The one who had turned him. Would he know? Even without the full moon bringing out his wesen characteristics, would his sire be able to tell what he was?
Killian stopped short of the station door and did an about face. He needed to better prepare himself for this confrontation, and there was only one person who would be able to help him do so.
Searching his contacts as he made his way to his vehicle, he prayed this call would not go to voicemail.
His prayer was answered.
“Hello?”
“Swan. It’s me. I need your help.”
~/~
The fingers of her left hand drummed against the counter as the nails on her right were being assaulted by her teeth. Normally, Emma Swan would not allow a situation to unnerve her this way. Of course, it wasn’t the situation, not really, it was the man involved in the situation. The man who only came in once a month to pick up his wolfsbane tonic and share polite pleasantries with her or her brother, who assisted her at the shop. The man who had agreed to keep things between them strictly professional after the one time thing incident that had occurred early on in their association. The man who had kept to that promise… until now.
He wasn’t coming here for his tonic - the full moon was still over a week away. He wasn’t coming here for tea, or spices, or herbal remedies, or anything within the purview of her business. No. He was coming here because he needed help on a case. He was coming here because he had nowhere else to turn. He was coming here because he needed… her.
Although they had managed to keep one another at arm’s length these past two years, it hadn’t been that way at first. The month following his attack and introduction into the wesen world, they had texted and chatted numerous times, having built a rapport by the time of the next full moon.
A rapport that simmered with attraction and temptation.
Fortunately, they had both understood the seriousness underlying his stay with her during that first full moon. Setting aside the obvious chemistry between them, they focused instead on the alchemy of finding the right balance of wolfsbane. Everything had gone as expected… until it hadn’t.
“Emma, sweetie,” Granny said in her admonishing tone. “Are you trying to drive us both mad with your fidgeting?”
“Sorry, Granny,” Emma mumbled, removing her nail from her teeth and flattening both hands on the counter.
The elderly woman’s soft, weathered hand covered hers and she gave it a light, comforting squeeze. “What’s got you all riled up? You said he was a regular customer.” Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted to the side. “Is it because he’s a lycanthrope?” Patting Emma’s hand she assured, “I may not look it, but I can still hold my own. If he gets unruly, then--”
“No, it’s not like that,” Emma said, cutting the woman off in a rush, not wishing her to get the wrong impression. “Detective Jones is much more disciplined than lycanthropes are believed to be. He’s… he’s a good man.”
“Then why on earth are you worked up in such a state?” Granny inquired. “I can practically smell the anxiety and tension wafting off of you.”
Emma chewed her bottom lip, then silently cursed herself. Get a grip, Emma. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she straightened her posture and schooled her features. “It’s nothing.”
Granny let out a dubious hum. “Try again,” she said. “If you want me to help a lycanthrope - and a detective to boot - that has you all tied up in knots then you’re gonna have to give me a reason.”
Emma released a heavy sigh. She knew Granny was right. The woman was going out on a limb for her, the least she could do was give her the truth.
Given that she expected the detective to arrive at any moment, Emma quickly told Granny about her and Killian’s first meeting, and the subsequent month that had followed.
“Sounds like the two of you became fast friends,” Granny remarked, though Emma thought she could detect something slightly off in the woman’s tone. “What happened?”
Glancing at the door, Emma wasn’t sure if she was irritated or relieved that he hadn’t arrived yet. She’d never told anyone what had happened.
“He came to stay with me for the full moon, as planned,” she began.
“Here?” Granny asked, knowing the proprietor lived above her shop.
“Yes,” Emma confirmed. “In my spare room. I wanted us to be close to the workshop so I could make adjustments on the fly.”
“What do you mean?”
Swallowing, Emma told Granny about the experiments they did, testing the effectiveness of the wolfsbane. “Things like, provoking his temper and trying to elicit responses that were more primal,” she hedged, with half a shrug of her shoulder, “to see how well he could keep control under such stimuli.”
“And?” Granny prompted. “How did he do?”
“He did great,” Emma said, then winced slightly as she added, “Until August showed up.”
A knowing huff left Granny. “Yeah. I’d imagine the presence of another male might have set him off a bit. Did your brother come away unscathed?”
“Barely,” Emma replied. “Killian didn’t know who August was and when he saw him hugging me he… woged.”
“As in… fully?”
“Yeah.”
“That must have been intense for all of you.”
“It was,” Emma sighed. “I had to use magic to diffuse the situation, but once cooler heads prevailed and I was able to introduce the two of them, I thought things were resolved.”
“Until?”
Emma’s mind flashed back to the morning after he’d woged and tried to attack August. The morning after the final full moon.
“So… you made it through your first full moon.”
“Aye. Thanks to you, love.”
“No need to thank me,” she told him. “I should be thanking you.”
“For?”
“For not ripping out my idiot brother’s throat,” she said in a tone mixed with amusement and annoyance. “I told him not to come here this weekend, but does he listen?”
Killian hummed, a sultry, toe-curling sound, and sauntered forward. “Perhaps gratitude is in order then?” he murmured, tapping his lips suggestively with a raised brow and challenging smirk.
“Yeah,” she said, a little breathlessly. “That’s what the thank you was for.”
Another sinful sound echoed past his lips as he pressed further into her personal space. “Is that all your brother’s life is worth to you?”
“Please,” she scoffed with an eye roll, trying, and failing, to get her heart rate under control, knowing full well he could probably hear its erratic beat. “You couldn’t handle it.”
The corner of his lips lifted in a feral and taunting manner. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”
The crack of the t against his tongue reverberated through her, and without thought she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, fusing her mouth to his. It took him the briefest of seconds to respond, inhaling deeply before thoroughly devouring her.
It was hot. It was primal. It was all-consuming.
“That was…”
It was a big fucking mistake.
“A one time thing,” she murmured, pulling back from his chasing lips. “We… we can’t do this. I… I can’t do this.”
Releasing him, she took several steps back, unable to meet his eye or look upon his confused expression.
“Swan,” he panted, both of them still working to catch their breath. “Have I… Have I done something? I know attacking your brother was bad form. Please don’t think I’m unaware of the seriousness of that--”
“No, it’s… it’s not that,” she said. “I know you didn’t really have control over--”
“Then what?” he asked. “What’s changed?”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Emma rocked back on her heels and said, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to… I mean… this is all new to you and the last thing we both need is to complicate an already complex situation. I think it would be best if we… kept things professional between us.”
She braced herself for his response, expecting him to be angry. Expecting him to accuse her of leading him on, or taking advantage of him while he was vulnerable. She hadn’t expected him to run a hand through his hair while letting go a heavy sigh before agreeing with her.
“Aye,” he said, softly. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps now is not the best time to…” Flicking his too blue gaze up to hers, he gave her an earnest smile. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Swan. I think I’ll be able to manage on my own now, thanks to you.”
“You’ll still need the tonic each month,” she reminded him with a slight edge of panic in her voice. She didn’t mean for their association to end altogether. “And you can still call or text me if you have questions about--”
“Thank you,” he interjected, cutting her off before she could continue with her offer. “I’ll swing in for the tonic in a month’s time. I’ll be sure to let you know if there are any issues regarding the treatment.” Reaching up, he pawed at a patch of skin behind his ear. “I, uh… I should go. I have a shift in an hour.”
“Right,” she said, letting him pass so he could collect his things from where he’d set them by the door. “See you next month?”
“Aye, Swan,” he said over his shoulder as he exited the shop. “See you then.”
“Only… I didn’t see him then,” she told Granny. “I chickened out and left the order with August.”
“Are you telling me,” Granny chastised, “that you haven’t seen that young man since--”
“No!” Emma replied, indignantly. “Of course I’ve seen him. We just… it’s been…” Another heavy sigh expelled out of her lungs. “After our… shared moment, I did avoid him for a bit and I know he struggled to cope with his transition, which made me feel worse about how we left things, but then there was this fire at his friend’s bar, and he made detective, and I don’t know… something about him changed. Things were less weird when he came in and we managed to carve out this nice, albeit superficial, relationship and yet--”
“The feelings are still there?”
Emma laughed a rather hysterical sounding laugh. “Uh, no. No feelings. I mean, obviously I care about him, as a person, but my current demeanor has nothing to do with feelings.”
“Oh? What does it have to do with, then?”
Emma didn’t get a chance to answer the woman’s smug question. The bell over the door chimed and the two women's heads snapped in its direction. In walked Killian Jones, as handsome and alluring as ever.
“Swan,” he greeted with a reverential nod. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“Of course,” she managed to choke out, her mouth having gone dry. Clearing her throat, she gestured towards Granny and introduced, “This is, uh, Granny Lucas. She runs the new B&B and diner up the street. I thought she might be able to help. Granny, this is Detective Jones.”
“Please,” he said, taking Granny’s hand and offering it a polite shake. “Killian will do.”
“A pleasure to meet you, detective,” Granny said, obviously sizing him up. “You’re not at all what I expected.”
“Meaning?”
Her gaze still assessing him, Granny quipped, “Most lycanthropes have me wanting to rip out their throats within seconds of meeting them, but you… you’re different.”
Killian’s brows shot up and his eyes flicked to Emma even as he continued to address Granny. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage,” he said a little too calmly. “You know about me, yet I have no idea why Swan brought you in on--”
“Granny’s a blutbad,” Emma blurted out, causing his brows to raise even higher as his head snapped back to the elderly woman. “I thought, seeing as you said your case had something to do with a blutbad, and that you needed more information about them, that you’d like to have your questions answered by someone who--”
“Not just any blutbad,” he said, cutting her off in a tone laced with menace and anger. “The blutbad.”
Emma gasped. “The one who turned you?”
“Aye.” His gaze turned dark and his features hardened. “He’s back and he’s killed again. He’s even taken a little girl captive.”
“That’s terrible,” Emma said, keeping herself from reaching out to offer him a hand of comfort. “When did you--”
“Today,” he told her, catching both women up on the case of the little girl and the jogger and how he’d connected them to the cases from over two years ago.
“We found matching boot prints at the crime scenes, but I also detected his scent at each location. I knew there was something familiar about it, but didn’t put it together until I smelled it mixed with the jogger’s blood. It brought back the olfactory memory of that night,” he said, momentarily getting lost in thought until he shook his head and added, “Of course… I can’t enter that into evidence. Fortunately, we have a lead, but I am wary of confronting him without knowing more.”
“More?” Granny said, her countenance a bit stand-offish and very imposing. “Like what?”
“Like,” Killian hedged, wetting his lips and taking a moment to assess Granny as she had him. “Whether I’ll be able to know him by scent even if he isn’t woged. Typically, I can’t detect wesen by scent whilst they’re in their human form or see them demi-woge unless it's the full moon, so I can only assume he was in full woge when he abducted the girl and attacked the jogger.”
Granny remained stoic and stone-faced, still unsure whether she should trust the gemacht wesen in front of her.
“Look,” Killian said with a tone of authority Emma imagined he employed often in his line of work. “I know there’s a code among wesen. This desire to look after one's own kind. But this guy is a killer. He’s killed two people that we know of and may, even now, be holding a little girl captive, so please. Help me find him. Help me find her.”
The reminder of the little girl softened Granny’s features. “If he’s done what you say he has, then he’s putting us all at risk.” Quickly, she flicked her gaze to Emma then back to him, conceding, “You’re right. There is a code among wesen, but it only extends so far. It sounds to me like this blutbad has gone feral, and his behavior is only going to escalate the longer he’s allowed to run wild.”
“Then… you’ll help me?”
Her posture relaxed further and she stepped up to the counter, bringing her closer to both Killian and Emma. Nodding, she said, “Yes, I’ll help you.”
A relieved breath fell from Emma’s lips and she took Granny’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you, Granny.”
Granny patted her hand then straightened her shoulders, getting down to business. “Now, I’m no expert on lycanthropes, but unless he fully woges, I don’t think you’ll be able to tell whether your suspect is the blutbad you’re looking for. If he is feral, then it wouldn’t take too much to provoke a response, but you’d have to be ready. Once he woges… he’ll be out for blood.”
Emma saw a shudder pass over the detective and she wondered if he was remembering his own experience with an uncontrolled woge.
“What about the girl?” Killian asked. “What motive would he have for taking her?”
Granny pursed her lips together then hesitantly replied. “If he’s feral, and attacked someone before, then he’s likely gotten a taste for human blood.” Killian and Emma both grimaced, sickened by the notion. “I’d wager he attacked and fed on that jogger first. Probably lost control. He knows he’ll be good for another week until the urge takes hold again, but by then it’ll be the full moon and it’ll be risky for him to be out and about. He probably took the girl in preparation of making a meal of her later. Taking her now gives him time to fatten her up.”
Emma thought she might be sick, and while she could see the shared disgust in Killian’s face, she also saw rage.
Granny caught his eye and imparted, “Having her will make him even more territorial and dangerous. So you’ll need to be ready for anything.”
“Will he, uh…” Killian began, haltingly. “Will he be able to discern who I am? What I am?”
“No,” Granny said, shaking her head. “I only made that quip about lycanthropes because Emma had already told me what you are… and I wanted to see how you’d react. You ought to know by now that wesen can only sense you during the full moon.”
“Aye, but he isn’t just any wesen,” Killian countered. “He’s my maker. Are you sure that won’t have an effect?”
“I don’t see why it would.”
Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, a reluctant question seemed to pause at the tip of his tongue.
“So there won’t be any… connection between us, then? No weird side effort of my turning that would make me sympathetic towards him or beholden in some way?”
Granny scoffed and cocked an amused brow at him. “Such sire bonds only exist in fiction.”
Killian’s head fell in relief and Emma could now detect how much tension he must have been carrying over that worry.
“Gemacht sometimes latch on to those who aid and guide them through their transition, and many times that is the wesen who turned them, so if you were to have bonded onto someone it would have been the person who was there for you at the beginning of and during your first change.”
Killian’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Emma’s. Her heart stuttered, then began pounding in her chest while her breath remained trapped in her lungs.
Granny’s gaze volleyed between the two of them, her heading tilting to one side as she quipped, “I suppose that explains the pent up tension I’ve been sensing between you two.” A warm smile lifted the corners of her mouth in response to their awkward reaction to the call out, and she assured them, “Don’t worry. The bond was temporary. I dare say enough time has passed that it would be gone altogether.” Her no nonsense demeanor returned as she focused her attention solely back on Killian and asked, “Anything else?”
Unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Killian cleared his throat and said, “Just one last thing… Do you know who this blutbad might be?”
“Afraid not,” Granny told him with obvious regret in not being able to provide him a name. “I only relocated to Storybrooke a few months ago, and I find it best to avoid my kind as much as possible.” Her eyes fell down to the counter and on a bit of a grumble she added, “Bad things happen when we get into a pack. Especially when we see red.”
Killian’s eyes went wide.
“What?” Emma asked. “What is it?”
Killian locked eyes with her once more. “The little girl. Grace. She was last seen wearing a red hoodie. And the jogger and hiker both had on red jackets when their remains were found.”
“So, red provokes him?” Emma said, shaking her head in confusion. “But you weren’t wearing red when he attacked you. You were in uniform.”
“Which,” Granny interjected, “along with your natural demeanor of dominance and authority, he would have seen as a threat.”
“Which means he’ll likely view me as a threat when I confront him.”
“Most likely,” Granny warned. She glanced at the clock on the wall, and Emma knew she needed to get going so she could get back to the diner before the evening rush. “My advice,” she said, rounding the counter on her way out. “When you do confront him, do it alone. You don’t want him to feel trapped or backed into a corner, and if things go badly…”
“Aye,” Killian agreed. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”
Extending her hand, Granny offered him a sincere expression as he accepted the gesture. “Take care of yourself, Detective. I hope you can bring him to justice, but if not… bring him down any way you can.”
With that, she said a quick goodbye to Emma then exited the shop.
“Tough old bird,” Killian said in her wake, causing Emma to huff out an amused breath.
“Yeah. Granny is… something else.”
“Terrifying, I believe is the word you’re looking for,” he quipped with a light chuckle.
The two shared a laugh then stood awkwardly regarding one another for a long moment before Killian cleared his throat and said, “Um… thank you, Swan. I truly appreciate your help. I didn’t know who else to--”
“It was nothing,” Emma blurted out, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I mean… I was happy you called and that I could…”
Her words fell away and a wash of something akin to embarrassment or bashfulness swept over her. Her face was hot and her palms were starting to get slick.
You're being ridiculous, Emma. You’re not a silly school girl unsure of what to say to her crush. In fact… you don’t have a crush. This isn’t a crush. This is--
Killian’s phone chimed with a notification. Pulling it from his pocket, he checked the text and his grip tightened to the point that Emma feared he’d crack the screen.
“Killian? What is it?”
Slowly, Killian’s eyes lifted and met hers. The look that swirled in those blue depths made her breath hitch.
“We found him, Swan.” His voice was low, almost a growl, and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand in a way that caused her to shiver.
“Who is he?” she asked in a whisper, only vaguely aware that she was rounding the counter to move towards him.
His eyes never left hers and once she was standing before him, they flickered between her own as he answered. “His name is Quinn Adair. His address puts him outside of the city. Out in the woods.”
Emma swallowed hard as an eruption of worry filled her chest. “Are you… You’re not going to go after him now are you?”
“I have to, Swan,” he insisted. “He has Grace, remember? I have to get to her before he…”
Emma nodded, knowing that time was of the essence for that poor girl who was probably terrified out of her mind.
“Just… be careful?” she said, wetting her lips, which caused his gaze to drop down briefly. “And, um… Call me later so I know how it… so I know the girl is okay… and you.”
“Aye,” he said, pocketing his phone. “I will. I promise.”
She expected him to rush out after that, but he continued to stand there. Conflicted.
“Swan, I know this isn’t the time, but… what Granny said earlier. About us. About the bond that might have been created between us. Was that… Was that the reason you pulled away? Did you suspect?”
“Killian, I…” Emma didn’t know what to say. It would certainly be a plausible reason to give him. One that was safer than the truth.
It would be a lie, though.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, waving off the question and sparing her from having to answer. “As Granny said, whatever was going on between us at the time, it’s likely run its course, so…”
“So?”
Stepping forward, Killian grabbed her hand and lightly held it in his. A rush of goosebumps swept up her arm when his thumb brushed over her knuckles.
“So… Maybe when this case is solved and things go back to relative normalcy, we could… try again?”
“Try again?” Emma parroted. A contradictory cocktail of hope, elation, dread, and panic collided within her as her good sense warred with her wants and desires.
“As friends, I mean,” he clarified, and in tamping down her own disappointment she missed the tone of it in his voice. “We had the start of something I was beginning to cherish and I miss…”
“Me, too,” she told him, turning her hand in his so she could give it a squeeze. Maybe it was reckless. She’d avoided close relationships all her life for a reason, and yet… “I’d love to start again. As friends.”
His smile took her breath away, but it was quickly schooled so he could focus on the dangerous task that lay before him.
“Do you want me to come with you?” she asked, filled with concern about him facing his maker alone. “I know Granny said not to make him feel trapped or backed into a corner, but I doubt he’d see me as a threat. And I doubt he’d be expecting a witch.”
His lip curled up on one side. “As much as I would love to see him go up against your magic, I won’t put you in harm's way like that.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he quickly added, “Besides. I need to try and do this by the book. I’m a cop before anything else.”
“I get that,” Emma relented, begrudgingly. “But I’m going to keep my phone close by in case you get in over your head and change your mind.”
“In over my head?” he said in feigned offense. “I’ll have you know, love,” he murmured in a low timber, edging a bit closer to her. “If there is one thing I’m good at… it’s surviving.”
“Mhmm,” Emma hummed, meeting his taunting expression of challenge with one of her own. “Well, I’m going to insist that you stop by afterward in order to prove that to me.”
He smiled down at her, another message alerting from his phone, indicating it was past time for him to go.
“As you wish.”
Chapter Two - Coming Soon!
Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)
(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)
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@the-darkdragonfly @undercaffinatednightmare @killianxswan @mie779 @motherkatereloyshipper
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smurny · 2 months ago
Text
Omg guys, what if the Dark King’s S symbol actually stands for Slytherin and he used it to Slytherin-to so many pants?? 🤔
Ok so here’s everyone sorted into houses:
Slytherin:
- Will (obv)
- Devon
- Sinclair
Ravenclaw:
- Grace
- Elizabeth
- High steward
Hufflepuff:
- Sarah
- Katherine
- Phillip
Gryffindor:
- Violet
- Visander
- Cyprian
- James (as a baby steward in training he said “not syltherin, not slytherin”)
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morganski-19 · 5 months ago
Text
I Don't Know Which Way's Home
Chapter 19: Nightmares
ao3 link, Part 1, Part 18
tw: minor descriptions of physical assault, PTSD panic attack, car crashes, and emetophobia (very minor description)
Present Day, June 1986
It’s been three weeks since the court ruled in Steve’s favor, and he still doesn’t quite believe it. Doesn’t believe it when his lawyer calls to tell him that the payment will be coming to him soon. Doesn’t believe it when that money gets transferred to him. When he pays his lawyer and it’s all over.
Steve doesn’t have to fight with them anymore. Have to think about them anymore. They have absolutely no power over him whatsoever.
He doesn’t know what to do with that really.
All his life, he’s been playing the part designed for him. Done what other people wanted, doing things for himself later. In secret. Now that most of it was out, the pressure gone, he doesn’t know what to do anymore.
Steve gets up to go to a job that he didn’t want in the first place. Really only got because his dad wanted him to get a part time job as punishment for not getting into college. Following Robin after the mall blew up. It was all just stops on a train that he was given the ticket to.
Now he switched trains on his own accord. Went in a different direction. One that he chose because he wanted it. Sounded like a life he wanted to live. Sounded like there were other passengers on the train that might get off at the same destination. Want to spend time with him as they traveled. Get to know him. Maybe even love him.
And that’s what happened. He still doesn’t know how, or why. What to do with it. But he’s learning to.
If anyone were to ask him what he was going to do with this life he has now, with the winnings, he wouldn’t know. He doesn’t know what he wants to do tomorrow let alone in the next five years. The picture he has in his head looks the same as it is now. Happy with everyone he loves around him, looking exactly the same.
But that’s not what’s going to happen.
The kids are going to grow up, change, go off to school. Julie will too, leaving his house empty again. Robin will eventually go to a school that can give her more than a community college can. People in the town will continue to outgrow it.
While Steve continues to stay in the same spot forever. Rooted in the same place that hurt him so much. The same place that helped him grow into someone he’s actually proud of. Showed him the life he could have if he was just brave enough to go and catch it.
Now that he has it, it’s all he’s ever wanted. He’s not ready to let it go quite yet.
“Do you think you could teach me how to drive?” Julie asks Steve over dinner.
Steve freezes in shock, head shooting up to look at her. “Yeah, sure, I guess.”
He’s known her less than a year but the question still makes him feel so old. Feeling like he watched her grow up as she went through so many changes. So many emotions. Slowly formed into the person she is now right in front of him.
“Cool.” Julie says, going back to her dinner.
Steve wonders how long she’s been wanting to learn how to drive. She’s been able to for over a year now, just never got around to it. With the nature of her mother’s accident, he wasn’t sure when she would want to ever learn. If she would want to.
“Is there a reason you wanted to learn?” He asks, trying to sound nonchalant.
Julie shrugs. “Just haven’t yet. And I’ve been thinking about maybe getting a part time job, saving to try and get a car of my own before I go to college. I know it’s still a year away, but cars are expensive and minimum wage is shit.”
College. Something he knew was coming but was hoping it could be a little farther away. He wonders if this is how every parent feels. Wishing their kid would just stay in one place for a little while longer and stop growing. Stop changing. So they don’t have to change with them.
He’s not a parent. Not yet, and not for a long while. But he can’t help but feel some sort of protective instinct over these kids that changed his life. Want to look out for them in every situation, make sure that nothing ever hurts them. He knows that’s not how life is supposed to go. Kids are supposed to make mistakes and learn from them. That’s the way it went for him, so it’s the way it will go for them.
He just didn’t want it to.
“I don’t know why you’re so worked up about this,” Robin comments while unboxing the newest releases. “We all knew this day would come someday.”
Steve sighs, leaning on the door of the stock room. “I just wanted that someday to take longer to actually get here. It’s like the last few years went by so fast and got so muddled in my mind that I forgot time kept moving.”
“I get that. But,” she places the last tape on the cart and turns to him, “just because the kids are getting older, doesn’t mean that they’re leaving.”
They are in a way, though. Even though he knows that won’t be permanent. That they won’t forget about him the way other people have, it still makes the anxiety trapped in his chest start to rise. The instinct to hold on tight and never let go so much stronger.
“This town is too small for them. We both know that. They are going to go do amazing things, while I’m still here doing the same mediocre things I always do.” He holds the door open for her as she rolls the cart through.
“Have you ever thought about doing other things?”
Steve pauses in front of the cart, making Robin run into him. “What?”
“You’re acting like you can’t do other things. If you hate what you’re doing right now, try something different. No one’s forcing you to do the same thing you were doing yesterday.”
She pivots the cart to move around him, leaving him with thoughts he’s honestly been scared to think about.
Steve’s made a routine for himself. Go to work, pick up the kids, drive them around, go home. Live a life that he enjoys and work a job that he kind of hates. Follow his best friend wherever she goes because he’ll love whatever it is.
Was it what he thought he’d be doing with his life, no. Is it something he wanted to do the rest of his life? He doesn’t want to answer that question. The rest of his life was uncertain for the longest time. Each year testing the strength of his body and his mind. Making it feel like tomorrow was some bright future he may never get to see.
It was easy to get so stuck in the present when the future seemed like it would never come. Now that it is, Steve is scared to figure out what it is. What it means for him.  
“Look,” Robin continues, knowing exactly how he’s feeling. “I’m not saying you have to pick what you want to do right now. Or tomorrow, or the day after that. I’m just saying that if you really hate doing this,” she waves towards the shelves, “then you can start thinking about what you would want to do instead. There is still so much time for you to figure it all out.”
Time is something Steve’s learning how to deal with. But Robin’s right. Maybe it’s finally the right moment to think about what he can do with it.
. . .
“That is so exciting,” El exclaims when Julie tells her that Steve is going to teach her how to drive. “You will be the first one of us to learn how to drive.”
“Well, that’s actually Max,” Lucas corrects. “She learned how to drive a while ago.”
“Yeah poorly,” Mike adds. “And only in a parking lot.”
Max rolls her eyes. “I drove in the street that one time.”
“And almost got us killed.”
“Scared Steve shitless.” Dustin laughs.
“Scared all of us shitless.”
“Not me,” Lucas defends. I wasn’t scared.”
Dustin snorts. “So that wasn’t your high-pitched scream then?”
Lucas kicks him under the table.
El turns to Max. “When did you drive?”
Max motions for El to get closer and whispers it into her ear. Just another reminder that Julie has no idea what they are talking about. Another inside joke that she’ll never understand. El takes a second to be shocked before bursting out into giggles.
When the bell rings, Max stops Julie before she can walk away. “Hey, could you help me bring my stuff to my next class. El has a test today so she can’t do it.”
Julie shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”
She picks up Max’s backpack and carries it in front of her. Following after Max as she yells at the groups of seniors who like to stand in the hallway and block everyone’s path.
“So, you and El have gotten pretty close, yeah?” Max asks way too casually than she should for such a loaded question. And in the middle of the hallway.
“I mean we’re friends, right,” Julie tries to play it cool. Especially since to El, this is all they are.
Max stops, turning her chair to Julie and giving her a look that tell her to cut the shit. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I don’t really want to talk about this here.”
She barely wants to talk about it at all. The hatred for herself slowly turning into guilt that churns her stomach each time she looks at El. Knowing that she’s feeling something that she shouldn’t. Almost asking El for something that she can’t give. Wishing that this feeling could go away and they could just go back to being normal friends. Without all this complicated shit.
“That’s fair.” Max resumes rolling down the hallway, stopping in front of her classroom and reaching out to take the bag from Julie. “Your house after school then?”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Julie wishes she would.
“El’s my best friend. Of course I’m not.”
The school day ends, and they go over to her house. She sits next to Max in her room like it’s some interrogation. Waiting for her to be the first to speak. Not wanting to share too much too fast.
“You know, El’s probably going to be pissed when she figures out that we hung out without her,” Max finally breaks the silence.
Julie huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, probably.”
The thing about actually having a crush, Julie realizes, is that it’s so special to have one. Like a little secret that she and only a few other people know. This special little feeling that, at the end of the day, brings her so much joy to have. Even though it’s terrifying. It’s a good terrifying.
“I was really happy when El became friends with you so fast,” Max continues. “I love the guys, but she needed someone else who knew how to take it down a notch. Someone calmer. Someone like you.”
Her lips can’t help but turn into a soft smile. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Max nods. “I think we all needed that too. Life has been crazy the last few years and it’s been nice to have someone to remind us that life doesn’t always have to be tied to that. Especially for El.”
“What do you mean?”
Max takes a deep breath, shifting the pillow behind her. “There’s a lot that I can’t tell you, and there’s stuff that I don’t even really know. None of us do. She wouldn’t tell us all of it. But you know how El is adopted right?”
Julie nods.
“I, uh, don’t know how much of this she wanted me to tell you. Just that she didn’t want to do it herself so bear with me here. Before she was adopted, El was in a really bad home. If that’s what you could even call it. And a lot of really terrible things happened there that none of us like to talk about. She escaped from there one night and eventually got adopted by Hopper.”
Julie remembers that night she stayed at the Byers after they got kicked out of the house. How she told El about the fourth of July when the mall burnt down, and she saw all those people walking to their death. The face El made after she said it. Looking determined as all hell and older than she needed to be. Like a switch in her mind flipped and she was a totally different person than Julie knew her to be.
How horrible her life must have been to take the joy out of her face so fast. To turn defense mode on in a way that made her look like a soldier.
“That’s terrible,” are the only words Julie can think to say.
Max nods, looking down at her hands. “Yeah, it is. This is the same place, same people, that are responsible for a lot of the bad things that happened in this town. They worked at the Hawkins lab.”
“Shit,” Julie sighs, leaning back against her wall.
“Yeah, shit.”
The room fills with silence.
“Why are you telling me all of this now?”
“Because I’ve never seen El open up to a person as fast as she has with you. It took a long time for her to open up to me, and sure there were other things in the way that stopped that, but I’m talking right as we became friends. We were close, but not you guys close.”
Julie can’t imagine Max and El being different from the way they are now. The soft interactions full of a trust that looked so natural. Like they had been friends for a lifetime, fully comfortable around one another.
“And I’m starting to notice, and please tell me if this is out of line, that you might be thinking about El differently than I think about El.”
Julie wonders if this is the time where it isn’t taken well. That someone tells her that this is the worst thing that she could do. Having a crush on a friend could break relationships. She didn’t want to break this one.
“I do,” she finally says to Max. Ready for the berating to start.
Instead, Max nods with resignation. “I think El does too.”
The room starts to buzz as Julie’s heart starts to pick up. “What?”
“She hasn’t, like, told me anything. And she’s probably going to hate me for telling you this at all. But I want to protect her and protect you too and this weird waiting period is really awkward for me, and I’d rather just get to the point where I’m third wheeling.”
“I’m sorry,” Julie interrupts her, still trying to wrap her head around the idea that there’s a possibility that El might like her back. “You think El likes me?”
Max raises her eyebrow. “Have you seen the way she’s been acting around you? Complimenting you every day, clipping your hair back, giggling at literally every joke you say. No offense but that’s a little excessive, your jokes aren’t always that funny.”
Moments start to replay in Julie’s mind. Having been so focused on the way she’s been acting, that she didn’t even notice the way El’s behavior around her changed. How she interacted with Julie just different enough from the rest of the group for it to be significant. For it to be special.
She remembers shrinking in on herself when she knew El was looking at her for longer than she should. Thinking that it was because Julie was making her feel uncomfortable. Never because she could have been doing the same thing Julie has been doing this whole time. Admiring in secret.
“I didn’t notice.”
Max groans. “Of course you didn’t. Neither of you did. It’s like Will and Mike not realizing that they’re into each other. Do you know how frustrating it is to know that your friends like each other but they’re too stupid to do anything about it.”
“Oh my god, you noticed the Will and Mike thing too, I thought that was just me.”
“Don’t try and change the subject. You like El, and I think El likes you. What are you going to do about it?”
Julie winces. “Is nothing an option?”
Max grabs Julie’s arm. “You are driving me crazy. Ask her out or some shit.”
“What if it doesn’t work out?” Julie says, full of fear. “What if I mess up and then I lose all of you guys. I already feel like an outsider sometimes when you guys start talking about the things I don’t know about. I’m the friend that everyone would be ok to lose if this doesn’t work out.”
A few beats pass before Max starts to speak. “Ok, one, you are not the friend that everyone would be ok to lose. You have integrated yourself into the group more than you think you have. Second, you are so focused on a relationship that you haven’t even started yet. Life’s too short to have regret for the steps you didn’t take. Believe me, I know.”
Max wraps her arms around her leg, shifting it to a better position. Inadvertently reminding Julie of the things that have happened the past few years. The events she was just a bystander to, never fully experiencing what happened. When they did, somehow. She still wished she kind of knew.
But maybe Max was right. Maybe Julie could take the risk. Ask El on a date. Hope that it would work out, and that she wouldn’t regret it later. What would she regret more? Asking, or forever wondering how it would have turned out had she not.
. . .
July 1987
The room is blurry as Steve comes into consciousness. The bright lights giving him a headache, and the taste of copper resting on is tongue. His one eye can’t open that well, almost swollen shut. His wrists burn against rope as he twists them. Trying to get them apart.
His good eye blinks, focusing on a pair of black boots in front of him. Raising his head, he meets the scowling face of the Russian officer. Hearing words spoken in a language he doesn’t understand to the other man in the room.
“Ah, he’s awake,” The Russian slurs in English. Stepping forward and looking down at Steve. Menacing.
“Let me go,” Steve begs. “I don’t know anything.”
The officer grabs his hair, pulling his head back to look at him. Steve’s tempted to spit in his face.
“I am only going to ask you this again. Who do you work for?”
Steve can’t help but let out a sad laugh. Knowing he won’t be awake for much longer. “I already told you. I work at Scoops.”
The ringing in his ears starts when his cheek burns. Vision blurring again. He straightens his head, panting to try and get the air back into his lungs. Only for it to leave as the officer hits him again. Always the right side of his head. It hurts so much it’s almost numb.
“No, no, no,” Steve pleads as the officer winds up again. Blood pooling in his mouth with the next collision. He spits on the group. “I work at Scoops,” he screams with as much breath he can muster.
The world goes dark again.
Steve wakes with a scream. The surroundings not matching that of his cell. A weight around his torso preventing him from getting up. He rips the blankets off of him, pulling the weight off and throwing it away. Cursing as his feet can’t kick off the sheets. Can’t get free.
Tears are streaming down his face as he struggles. His hands free. The rope burn stinging his skin. His torso itches like crazy. Like small little bites stabbing into his skin. He needs to find Robin. Needs to see if she’s ok.
“Steve,” a voice says to him. How do they know his same? Did he tell it to them? What are they going to do to him now.
He still struggles with the blanket, finally pulling his feet free. Attempting to get off the bed and search for anything as a weapon. This place isn’t the cell he was in before. They must have moved him when he was knocked out.
“Steve,” the voice says again. Sitting up on the bed and starting to move towards him.
Steve flinches from the touch, raising his fists. Ready to strike them first this time. His heart is beating in his ears, the constant ringing in his right only amplified. Adrenaline pumping through his veins.
He needs to get out of here.
A light clicks on. Illuminating the room he’s in. It doesn’t look like a cell. It looks like a bedroom. Have they constructed this just to give him a false sense of security?”
“It was just a dream, Steve.” The man gets out of the bed, taking a cautious step towards Steve. Hands outstretched to block any punches Steve might throw.
Steve wasn’t the threat here. He was just trying to protect himself.
“Can you tell me three things you notice about this room?” The man cautiously spins them around, clicking on another lamp in the room.
The bare walls reflect the light, the soft yellow so different from the blaring white. The walls a tan instead of white or grey. It looks so familiar, but Steve’s mind is so confused. The tears continue to stream down his face as he tries to figure out where he is.
“I work at Scoops,” Steve stutters.
“I know you do.” The man replies quickly. “I believe you.”
More tears. Steve’s hands lower. They know now. Does that mean he’s free to go?
“Tell me three things you see,” he repeats. So soft it makes Steve want to crumble.
“A bed,” he whispers. “A nightstand. A lamp.”
The man takes another step forward. Coming into more clarity. Brown curls fall onto his shoulders. He looks nothing like the Russians.
“Good. Anything else?”
“There’s a picture on the nightstand. The bed has blue sheets. There’s a poster on the wall.”
Eddie places a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder, he flinches before leaning into it. Closing his eyes and trying to focus on the touch. Letting it ground him.
There’s a knock on the door. Steve’s eyes fly open again as he whips his head to look. Heartbeat increasing again.
“Take a seat, sweetheart, I’ll get it.”
Steve freezes, unable to move. He’s directed toward the bed, somehow, he sits down. Knuckles clenched into white.
“Are you guys ok,” he hears a soft voice say. “I heard screaming.”
Eddie doesn’t open the door more than a small crack. “Yeah, we’re fine. I got this, you can go back to bed.”
The door shuts with a small click. Eddie returning to Steve. Sits next to him as the adrenaline fades. Leaving his body exhausted and his mind still searching for explanations.
“Can you tell me what year it is, Steve?”
He shakes his head.
“It’s July second, 1987. You survived them, Steve. Everyone did.”
A sob escapes his throat. His body collapsing into himself. Curling up as the energy releases. He’s wrapped into a hug and pulled further into the bed. Being protected while he falls apart.
Steve wakes up again a few hours later. Gets out of bed and into a routine. Takes a shower, gets dressed, makes himself breakfast. Goes through the motions of a normal morning.
The front door closes quietly. Eddie and Robin coming into the house. Sitting with Steve at the table.
“I took Julie to school, that’s why I wasn’t here,” Eddie explains. “I told Robin what happened.”
Robin looks down at the table, biting at her lip. “Tomorrow marks two year since-.”
Steve looks at his coffee. “Yeah, I know.”
“I can’t believe it’s been that long. It feels so close yet a lifetime away.”
“It was like I was back there. Even when I woke up.” Steve takes a deep breath. “I thought it was going to be better this year.”
Robin’s hand finds his, her fingers shaking. “Me too.”
They find themselves curled up on the couch for the rest of the day. Eddie there just to make sure they’re both ok. The house quiet except for the low volume on the tv. Lights off so they don’t flicker. Robin’s fingers pressed into Steve’s wrist to feel his pulse. His arm holding her close, proving that she’s there.
They made it out of there. They’re both alive. He wishes that their minds would stop trying to tell them otherwise.
. . .
Julie walks into a dark house. Steve and Robin asleep on the couch with Eddie awkwardly sitting next to them. Looking out of place. She wants to ask about what she heard last night. How she heard the screams from across the hall.
Eddie gets up when he notices her. Motions for her to meet him in Steve’s bedroom. Shuts the door gently behind them before turning on the light.
“You probably have a few questions about last night.”
Julie nods. “Is he ok?”
Eddie runs a hand down his face. “Physically, yeah, he’s fine. But other than that, he will be. This week is an anniversary of something for him. He was reminded of that last night.”
“The mall fire,” Julie fills in. “I know that they were there that night.”
“Do you know why?”
Julie shakes her head. No one would tell her more when she asked.
Eddie nods, crossing his arms and swaying on the balls of his feet. “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to tell you what happened. I don’t even know the full of it.”
She thought Steve told him everything. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s the reason Steve can’t hear well in his right ear anymore. And the reason he gets really bad PTSD attacks. Like the one he had last night.”
“And that’s why,” she tilts her head to the door. Knowing that Steve and Robin tangled together in the living room.
“She was there too.” Eddie looks at the door. Pain painting his face. “A part of me wishes I knew what really happened to them so I could help. But they already relive this pain more than they should, they don’t need to do it again just to fill me in.”
Julie pauses before asking the question that’s been on her mind since the first time she heard screams through the walls. Wonders if there’s a part of her that really wants to know. Or if this is just morbid curiosity. But there were memories of her own that haunt her. Placing her back into moments of her life with things left unexplained.
She cares about these people. It hurts to know that they are in pain. And if she could help, know how to help them through the panic or PTSD attacks, she thinks it’s important enough to know.
“Do you think you could tell me what you know,” she asks softly. “Or at least what you do to help calm him down. I think it would be good for me to be prepared in case it happens and you or Robin aren’t here.”
Eddie presses his lips together. “I’ll do the second one, not the first. As much as he doesn’t want to talk about it, it’s not my story to tell.”
“That’s fair.”
Eddie tells her what he does to calm Steve down when it gets really bad. How with the panic attacks, it’s good to count with him while he breaths. And if he’s willing, grab his hands to help ground him. Tell him about what’s in the room. How it’s different than the pictures in his mind. More things kind of all based on that.
Julie takes it all in, making a mental list in her mind, hoping she doesn’t forget it. Hoping that if it ever happens, she won’t mess it up. Saddened by the fact that this is Steve’s reality.
. . .
A few days pass since Steve’s reality morphed with his nightmares. The date crossed out on his calendar far enough away that it’s finally starting to sink in. Steve made it out of there two years ago. Yet it still affects him like it was yesterday.
Just like back then, life moves on. He goes to work and comes home. Gets weird thinking of the future, and what that means for him. How each milestone will pass, the anniversary of dates coming and going. Affecting him in more ways than he realizes. Until he’s waking in a cold sweat and his body is transported back into his past selves. Some fucked up time travel.
His mind stays fixated on that night. How long it took for his brain to recognize Eddie’s face. To differentiate the safety of his home with the danger of his interrogation cell. How dangerous it could have been.
Eddie told him that Julie has asked about it. How he didn’t say anything, but did tell her ways to help him through an attack. It’s something he never thought of before. Out of all the possibilities that run through his mind, the thought of her being present for one of the attacks never crossed. He never thought she would be there for one of them.
But she almost was. If Eddie hadn’t been there, it would have been Steve opening the door. He didn’t want her to see him like that. He didn’t want the monsters in his head to meld her into something she wasn’t.
She wasn’t a part of this life, he wanted to keep it that way. But Steve has never really gotten what he wished for. It was time to tell her the parts he could.
No one wants to hear about the truth. They don’t want to know the dangers that rest beneath their feet. Blissfully ignorant and wanting to stay that way. Ignorance, however, can hurt sometimes. He didn’t want it to hurt her.
When Julie gets home from school, Steve asks her to sit in the kitchen. Takes the seat across from her and starts to lay out everything. How this conversation can’t leave the room, and she’s never to let anyone know that he told her this.
“This is about Starcourt, isn’t it?” She asks somewhere in the middle of his warnings. “Why all those people walked straight to their death.”
“How did you know about that?” Steve knew that people must have seen it, but it was kept out of the news.
Julie tells him about the night she went looking for her mom. How she got caught in the crowd of people walking toward the mall. Saw the names of people she knew flicker on the tv screen the next morning.
Steve tells her more than he should. About how Will going missing five years ago was a catalyst to so much more. How he got roped into everything. Skipping the bit in the middle for the most part, focusing on how Max came into it all. Then gets to the Russians.
Tells her the story of an innocent mystery turned terrifying nightmare. The interrogation that thankfully didn’t end in his death. Fireworks that crashed into the monster the size of a building and crashing a car into a possessed maniac. All of it ending in burning red, leaving the survivors to cope with their loss.
She’s taking it better than he thought she would. And he hasn’t even said everything yet. Just barely gets to spring break before Julie is pulling him into a hug. Until he realizes the wetness of his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” she chokes. “I am so sorry you had to live through that.”
He doesn’t finish telling her everything. It’s probably a good thing. The NDA’s aren’t as loose as the ones from a few years ago. And it’s better for her to process this and maybe learn the rest later. If she wants to. If he wants to explain it all again.
. . .
“Alright, now turn on the blinker and slowly hit the gas again,” Steve instructs as Julie sits at a stop sign. No one else around.
It’s been a few weeks since she’s started learning how to drive. Slowly easing into it in random parking lots while no one is there. Learning where all the signals were, and basic traffic laws. Most of it was review, but she didn’t mind the practice.
She pushes on the gas, jerking the car into motion. Pulling away from the parking lot and onto the street. For the first time. Julie is driving on the road.
“Ok, good. Just try not to hit the gas so hard next time.”
Steve’s been an ok teacher. Patient for the most part but gets frustrated when he can’t explain something properly. But he hasn’t gotten angry at her yet. Carefully corrects her but makes sure she knows that she’s doing ok. That she’s starting to get this right.
Julie pulses the gas. Learning how to keep the speed of the road. Overcorrecting when she gets too close to the yellow lines. The overcorrecting again when she gets close to tree line.
It’s scary driving something so large. So powerful. Hearing how the engine revs each time she pushes her foot down too hard. Feeling the pull of the seatbelt against her chest as she hits the breaks too fast.
But she’s getting it. Adjusting herself as she gets used to the feel of the petals beneath her feet. Loosens her body as she gets more comfortable gripping the steering wheel. As she gets used to the size of the car and the way it moves.
“Great. You’re doing really great, Julie. How about we turn here and-.”
A deer jumps in front of the car.
Julie slams on the breaks as she swerves close to the trees. The car coming mere inches from the trunk. Her arms shaking as they grip the wheel.
It all can happen so fast.
Steve unbuckles his seatbelt, turning towards her. “Julie, take a breath ok.”
One wrong move and the hood of the car would be curved around the tree. The airbag would be in her face.
“Just take a breath, we’re ok.”
What if her foot had slipped as she pushed down on the breaks? What if her hands fumbled the turn? Would the deer have contacted the car? Would she have killed it?
“You followed your instincts. We’re ok. That’s all that matters. We’re ok.”
Was this what it was like right before her mom’s crash? Did a deer just jump in front of the car? Her foot missing the break as she slammed into a tree. As it crashes just right to take her life. Was this mistake so easy to make that Julie almost made it too?
“Julie,” Steve touches her shoulder, comforting her. “It’s ok. Take all the time you need.”
Julie unbuckles her seatbelt and bolts out of the car. Runs to the wood as bile stings her tongue. Let’s the adrenaline out onto the dirt as she crashes. As the air escapes from her lungs.
Steve’s beside her rubbing her back. Saying something but it doesn’t register. Too stuck in her head to think of anything else.
“I’m sorry,” slips out of her mouth. Not sure of what else to say.
“Don’t be. It was just an accident, it happens all the time.”
Tears start to make their way out of her eyes. “But I didn’t see it. I could’ve. I could’ve crashed the car. Or worse and.” Sharp, shaky breaths interrupt her sentences.
Steve turns her to look at him. “Julie, hey. Look at me.” She does. “Take a deep breath, ok.”
He counts as she forces herself to breath in. She holds it, feeling the beat of her heart in her lungs. Releases it. Does it again.
“I didn’t see the deer either,” Steve admits once she calms down a little. “Something must have scared it, and it ran into the road. And you did a good job avoiding it.”
She doesn’t feel like it was a good job. “It all happened so fast.”
The tears continue to stream down her face. The feeling of the break pressed into the bottom of her foot. Throbbing. Her shoulder stinging from the pull of the seatbelt. The feeling of it all finally registering.
Her forehead hurts. Something is dripping down in between her eyes. She reaches up and swipes away blood. The buzz coming back to her veins.
“Fuck,” she mutters, eyes glued to her hand.
Steve gets up and comes back with a small first aid kit. Wiping away the blood with some napkins and pressing them against her forehead. Waiting for the bleeding to stop.
She doesn’t even remember her head hitting the steering wheel.
They sit in silence while Steve cleans the cut. Julie wincing when the alcohol wipe hits her broken skin. Steve finds a small piece of gauze and tapes it to her forehead. Packing up the first aid kit and returning to just sitting next to her.
“We’ll sit here as long as you want to, then I’ll drive us home,” he says.
Drive. Julie doesn’t know how she can sit in the car again. Knowing how easy it is for it all to fail.
“It all happened so fast,” she says again. Fixated on it.
“Yeah, yeah it did.” Steve’s trying to stay strong but she can see the shock in his actions too.
“Was it that fast when,” a lump forms in her throat. “When she? When my mom?”
Steve realizes what she’s talking about, starting to open and close his mouth. Trying to find something to say.
“I,” he starts. “I don’t know.”
“That’s all I could think about.” She looks at him. “All I can think about is how I could almost have died just like her. One wrong move and I-. And we-.”
Steve grabs her arms, looking her dead in the eyes. “Hey,” he says softly. “It’s ok. Whatever could have happened, it doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that we’re here, and we’re safe. You got shocked and followed your instincts. And because of that, we’re both ok.”
Ok normally doesn’t feel like this. But she tries, really tries to listen to his words.
“I know none of this is going to stop the what ifs in your mind. Believe me, I know. But those what ifs are not going to change what happened. It’s important to remember that.”
She knows he’s right. But it’s so hard to keep her mind on track. Letting it off rail to the ends of possibilities. Wondering if there was ever one where there was never an almost crash to begin with.
“Let’s go home. Get an icepack on that head and make sure it’s ok before you go to sleep. Ok?”
Slowly, Julie nods. “Ok.”
She gets in the car. Buckling the seat belt and tugging it to make sure it locked. Steve gets in the driver’s seat and readjusts it and the mirrors before slowly pulling away. The almost accident fading as she stares in the sideview mirror.
It was just an accident. It can happen to anyone. It just had to happen to her.
Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis,
@ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi,
@cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet,
@steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy,
@connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso,
@crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @melonmochi
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princess-and-the-swan · 5 months ago
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CS Fic Recs: Bridgerton-Inspired AU
While I anxiously await the arrival of the second half of Bridgerton S3, I'm absolutely DEVOURING these 3 Bridgerton-inspired CS fics I've found:
A Scoundrel... Or a Gentleman? by @kmomof4
Killian Jones has been in love with Emma Nolan since the day he met her - the day before she married his brother Earl Liam Jones. That was six years ago, and Liam has been gone now for four years. Emma and Killian have both arrived in London for the season - her to seek a husband so she can hopefully bear children, him to finally take up his duties as the earl, including finding a wife. Will they succeed in their respective desires? Complete. Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton's story, this is the fic that sent me into my Bridgerton-fic frenzy. While there is a little bit of Liamma in the beginning, this is very much a Captain Swan fic and it's so much fun to follow along with the evolving relationship dynamic between the two.
A Mistress to No One by @kmomof4
Bastard Emma Swan enjoys one night of pure magic and romance in the midst of a life of drudgery and abuse- attending a masquerade ball and meeting aristocrat Killian Jones. Two years later, the same man she met on the best night of her life reappears, saving her from a dire fate in the process. Now, she must keep herself from falling in love with a man she can never have. But when that proves impossible, is there any hope for a happy ending between two people from such vastly different worlds? Complete. I will admit, that I have never read Benedict Bridgerton's story, so I had no idea what to expect. This story reminds me of Cinderella but if Cinderella and her prince had an actual connection beyond a single dance.
The Duke and His Swan by @hollyethecurious
Dearest Reader, the ton is abuzz with speculation that the new Duke of Ironhook will be remaining in town for the duration of the Season. Second born of the illustrious Jones family, Killian Jones has quite the legacy to live up to now he has inherited the dukedom from his late elder brother. Also entering Society for her first season is Miss Emma Swan, ward to the Viscount Nolan’s family. Gifted with a respectable dowry, Miss Swan’s financial worth and uncommon good looks will surely make up for her rumored prickly disposition in the eye of more than one fortune seeking suitor. Stay tuned, Dear Reader, for this author has it on good authority His Grace and Miss Swan shall cause quite a sensation, perhaps even resulting in… scandal! Complete. If you haven't already read this fic, I HIGHLY recommend it. Loosely inspired by Daphne Bridgerton's story, this is very much a friends to lovers trope that so many of us adore. After I read this fic, I binged several of this author's other works as well because her writing is absolutely addictive :)))
These fics are the bane of my existence and the object of all my desires and I really hope more Bridgerton-inspired fics will begin to pop up--especially a Colin Bridgerton-esque fic to commemorate the Polin season! If you've found any others that you enjoyed, please please please let me know! Happy reading!!
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naffeclipse · 1 year ago
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About that SJ Mermay au! (Which, if it isnt too much of a hassle, you should totally write about 👀) But what would the AU look like? Are tgere any differences from the original Sleuth Jesters storyline or worldbuilding?
Basically, it's all shoved into the ocean, but there aren't official laws and the main four characters are doing things very much of their own volition and desires, but it's the same vibes to Sleuth Jesters! Everyone's a mer, including Y/N.
Lil snippet because Eclipse can be worse :)
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snowbellewells · 15 days ago
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HAPPY (One Day Late) BIRTHDAY KRYSTAL!!!
(I really wanted to get this posted on @kmomof4's actual birthday - I've only been trying to get this going since I promised it LAST YEAR! But you have been very patient, Krystal, and here at last is the story I'm working on for your birthday gift. Seeing as you wrote a beautiful CS AU of the Bridgerton book which is a bit of a Cinderella story, and since I've been mulling a bit of a Killian-as-the-Cinderella-character fic for some time, I've mashed that idea together with several of your mentioned fave tropes and characters/relationships from OuaT. I'm not going to list it all here. Hopefully, it will lead to more pleasantly melty surprises as we go. ;p I'll try not to keep you waiting too long between updates - and I have no idea how many chapters there will end up being. I first thought a really long one shot, then a two shot, but Killian and his fairy godmother (and Liam!) were excessively chatty, and it just kept getting longer and longer! I realize Emma isn't in it much yet, but we'll start with her next time.)
I hope you enjoy, Krystal!! I'm so glad we are friends!!!
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Also available on AO3 if that is your preference...
"Dreams That You Wish Will Come True"
by: @snowbellewells
Chapter One
“But Liam,” a breathless young Killian Jones argued stubbornly, “why are you dragging me to the galley? You know all I have to get done before the Captain returns…” Swiping the shaggy dark hair back from where it hung in his eyes, long past needing a trim, the young man cringed at the sound of his own wheedling tone. Gritting his teeth and flexing his hands in frustration, Killian chided himself for questioning his elder brother’s direction and sounding like the bloody nuisance he knew he must be to Liam - strong and wise and nearly grown now. At barely seventeen, and with little experience beyond that of an indentured deckhand on a ramshackle pirate ship, what right or knowledge did he have to be so stubborn, especially not with Liam, who had only ever looked out for his best interests?
Sure enough, exasperated, Liam shook his head before responding with a huff, “Can you not just do what I say, Little Brother? For once? You’ll see in a moment.”
By this time, they had traversed the length of the ship below deck, and they stood outside the galley. They paused briefly, with Killian biting down on his tongue to prevent asking again if Liam was sure about what they were doing. To his wide-eyed astonishment, Liam raised a hand to rap his knuckles in a specific rhythm on the door that separated Cook’s domain from the dimly-lit hall. His brother gave him a bit of a wink, more mischief in it than his serious elder sibling, burdened with far too much responsibility for his years, usually showed. Curious now, Killian waited wordlessly with him until footsteps could be heard drawing nearer on the other side.
When the door was opened to them, Killian was perplexed over again as he and Liam were beckoned inward and the door closed behind them once more. Within the room, illuminated softly by a hanging lantern and a few candles scattered throughout, he saw that, not only Cook, but several of the crewmen of the Merry Rogue, had gathered in the small, already overwarm, and easily crowded room in which they took their meals. Killian was usually on his feet serving. Silver would allow nothing less from his “kitchen maid” as he often tauntingly dubbed Killian, hoping to stoke the fiery temper the young lad tried to check so he could then see him lashed for insubordination. It was only well after the others had cleared off that he and Cook could sit and take their own repast. However, those gathered now had secretive smiles and anxiously pleased looks on their faces. Killian noted easily that none of the more hateful crew members were present; neither those who ordered him about loftily, mocking him and sending him scurrying back and forth for items they didn’t really need throughout the meal, nor the cruel bosun who would stick a foot out to trip him, then cuff him for spilling and wasting food. Instead, gathered before him were the softer hearted men - perhaps misfits on the ship themselves at some earlier time before he and Liam were indentured to the vessel - who had often shown him bits of kindness and understanding when they could manage.
In spite of his earlier misgivings, he was intrigued and couldn’t help asking Cook this time, though Liam was still nearby. “What is going on here?”
The older man merely smiled kindly, motioning Killian further into the room, until he stood near its center. “You’ll soon see, lad,” Cook coaxed gently, turning to riffle through a burlap sack laid out on the galley table before offering his prize to Killian. “We’ve something to give you for the evening’s festivities.”
“Wh- what are you on about?” Killian’s brow puckered in confusion as he looked at what appeared to be a pile of folded cloth in his older friend’s hands, and at the eagerly expectant faces gathered around to watch. “Festivities? Me? I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about…”
He was shaking his head as words failed him, not sure how to deal with the puzzle before him, when he sensed Liam at his back, solid and strong. His elder brother placed a comforting hand on Killian’s shoulder and leaned in to murmur quietly in his ear. “Come now, Killy, you have to have seen the banners posted all over port for the gala at the castle, in honor of the Princess Emma’s birthday. It’s tonight.”
Killian sputtered indignantly as Liam nudged him in the side and nodded toward the stack of fine material Cook was still holding out to him. “Aye, of course I have, but - but what does that have to do with me?”
Liam responded with an even more brilliant smile, bowling Killian over with his quip, “Simple, Little Brother! If you would get a move on, we mean for you to attend that ball!”
Those words did not truly make the situation much clearer to Killian’s mind, but at Liam’s urging - knowing his sibling would never encourage something that would do him harm - he took the bundle from Cook and moved forward to lay the offering on the long, wooden table for a better view. He could see now that it was a fine coat, made of soft, midnight blue, expertly tailored and brand new, certainly the finest piece of clothing he’d ever held in his own two hands. There was also a dress shirt, a mere shade lighter, clearly meant to be worn beneath the jacket, and breeches of a soft, dove gray - all quite the ensemble and much finer than any mere deckhand or cabin boy would ever have use for. Despite that, all three items seemed to be in his particular size, and the pleased smiles on the small circle of weathered faces around him clearly meant for him to have the articles.
“This is very kind,” Killian began, trying a different tack since protesting that they must be mistaken had done no good. “These clothes are the most handsome I’ve seen, but surely no sailor, and one barely part of the crew at that, would be invited to such an event. Mayhap someone else could…”
“Perhaps I can explain,” an airy, musical voice spoke up, floating on the air like a tinkling of chimes as sparkles of light and swirls of colorful breeze seemed to catch the eyes of all those gathered in the small ship’s kitchen. Gliding gently toward him from above, a small creature - a miniature woman, a fairy!, he realized -  came to to hover before him, a sweetly bemused smile on her delicate face.
More questions flooded Killian’s brain than had already lingered; however, he was now too overwhelmed and in awe to speak any of them aloud. A fairy? Here? Where pirates cooked and swabbed the deck and ate their grub? That he would ever see such a mystical being had never entered his mind, much less the idea that he would encounter one aboard a ship which had seen much more glorious days many years ago. He was sailor enough - a superstitious lot, one and all - to believe that magic existed, fairies among the more familiar imagery of sirens and selkies, but a vague belief in theory was much different from seeing one shimmering before his own eyes, gazing on him with a benevolent smile upon her face.
Seeing that the beguiling young man before her was currently incapable of answering, the silvery-winged fairy’s laughter tinkled on the air like the pleasant ringing of tiny bells, the riotous pile of ringleted brown curls interespersed with morning glory blossoms shook with her gentle mirth before she spoke again, hastening to explain and hopefully to dispel the poor youth’s doubt and confusion. “You are Killian Jones, yes?” she queried, already certain, but awaiting his confirmation nonetheless.
Killian did manage an affirmative nod, and his lips formed a soft “aye”, though it sounded as barely more than a whisper.
“Well then, Killian Jones, it is a pleasure to meet you at long last. I have watched you from afar all your life, after all. I am Nova, your fairy godmother.”
The handsome young man’s bright blue eyes popped wide open at her pronouncement, stunning in their crystal clarity and nearly making Nova’s sweet soul cry at the hope laid bare in his expression, hope which he tried equally to rein in, clearly having already learned such lovely things were not meant for him and waiting to hear the catch. She was the most tender-hearted of all her sisters, and it had been painful for her to look on and do nothing as this mischievous, brilliant little boy had been forced into manhood far too soon. His mother’s death, his father’s abandonment, the privation and shame of unwilling servitude, the cruelty of mistreatment, and the harsh life at sea had all changed the bonny child who had boarded this ship with his father and brother years ago into the solemn young man before her, who had never truly been allowed to leave. She had chafed over and over again at being held back and kept from doing something to help her appointed charge - anything to better his lot, even slightly. Their fairy laws were fickle, and yet exacting; even as Nova honored and revered their ways and her elders, she could not claim to understand why it had taken so long to finally be deemed “the right time”.
She could tell by the furrow of his dark brow that young Killian Jones must be pondering at least some of those same questions. Where had she been these last years of backbreaking toil, pilfered rations, and vicious taunts about a father so desperate to be rid of him he had sold him away? Where had she been the first time the lash had scored his back and left bloodied stripes in its wake? She had been right there beside him, unseen, constrained from taking any action, but he had no way of knowing that.
“I - I have a fairy godmother?” he finally sputtered in stark disbelief.
Nova nodded kindly, having the good grace to look more than a little abashed. “Of course you do! Everyone does. It breaks my heart to think you’ve felt so forgotten.” She squared her shoulders and blinked rapidly, trying not to become emotional as she attempted to explain. “Unfortunately, we fairies follow a very strict code. We are forbidden to make ourselves known before the appointed time. And I kept being told it was not yet that moment…”
Killian’s mind whirled with all the new information - and with a bit of indignance at the idea that all he and Liam had been through since being abandoned and left in Silver’s dubious oversight had not been considered serious enough to merit aid. His mouth opened, and even he himself was not sure if it was a question or a retort on the tip of his tongue - but his immediate awe was finally overcome - when his diminutive magical guest clearly sensed she needed to finish her explanation, and fast. 
“My superior, the Blue Fairy, or Blue as she’s often called, is stricter about maintaining our distance and secrecy than most.” Nova shrugged her shoulders in obvious contrition as she waved her hands and a wand appeared within her grasp. “I’ve never really understood why, but that’s neither here nor there. It is finally time to grant your heart’s wish… to do something to make you life better, just as I’ve been waiting to do!”
Killian’s mouth snapped shut again at that, puzzled by her words and disarmed at the excitement bursting from her tiny frame. He had never met this Nova before, but he could hardly doubt her eager sincerity. “My wish?” he repeated uncertainly, feeling that he was trailing considerably further behind in the conversation that he ought to be. “I can’t honestly remember even making one.”
Even as he spoke those words, however, Killian knew in his heart they were not entirely true. It might not have been the focused drive of a wish upon a star, or anything that direct, but he had often thought on where he would go if he were free, what he and Liam could do if they were their own men, left to their own devices, able to seek an adventure of their choosing, honor and glory for the name of Jones which their father had sullied. Had those hopes and dreams been heard all this time, when he had felt so forgotten and ignored? It must be true, though it was hard to reconcile with his previous experiences.
Almost as if she could read his thoughts broadcast across his face, Nova nodded enthusiastically, affirming his realization. “That’s right,” she pronounced clearly, gesturing to the clothing his brother and shipmates had procured for him. The fairy -his fairy godmother! - then effortlessly waved her wand once more, causing one of the flyers ever-present about this kingdom to appear before him from out of thin air. “This ball is only the beginning for you. You have big dreams, Killian Jones, and a calling to fulfill, but you are also the only one who can see them come true. I may be giving you a bit of a boost, but you are more than enough for the task. Your heart is strong, and I have no doubt it will see you through. You only need a little belief.”
“And what exactly does a fancy royal ball have to do with anything?” he questioned. His shock was wearing off as he grew more comfortable speaking to Nova, but he wasn’t seeing why he would be needed at a princess’ birthday celebration. All the same, he scooped all the formal wear up in his arms to go and change - whether it made sense to him or not.
Nova’s entire small fae being practically twinkled at him with the playful wink she gave before answering, “Not all things are as simple as they might first appear, young sir.” With that, she lightly tapped the end of her wand on the top of his head, causing a pleasantly warm tingling to spread through Killian’s body, all the way out to his fingers and toes.
A mere moment later, amid astonished exclamations from Liam, Cook, and the others, he realized that his arms were empty; the new clothes he had been holding already magicked onto his lanky frame, along with shining new shoes upon his feet and a smart queue tied off with ribbon matching his fine shirt and a fresh, neat trim to his dark hair too. It was indeed enough to make him feel a whole new person - one who might not stand out horribly, even at the palace of Misthaven.
“There now,” Nova approved with gentle tone, a fond smile gracing her lips as she took in the full effect upon her charge. “You look quite the young gentleman.”
“Aye, you do at that!” Cook echoed with his rough but friendly voice as he clapped Killian on the shoulder heartily. “Even in our heyday, Cap’n Silver himself rarely looked so sharp!”
“I’d not let him hear you say so,” the old shipwright Ned called over jovially.
“Too right!” Cook chuckled.
The other crew members present laughed as well and began to talk amongst themselves, drifting away now that the excitement was past. Soon, only Liam stood beside him, the two brothers both looking to their benefactress where she hovered before them. Even Cook headed off for his cabin, saying his old bones were ready for his bunk, even if the night was still young.
“You look just like a fine young lieutenant,” Liam affirmed, eyes wide as he took in his younger sibling and needlessly brushed some nonexistent speck from the shoulder of Killian’s jacket. Then, bracing both of his larger hands on Killian’s upper arms, he held him out to gaze into his face seriously before offering in a choked voice, “This sort of adventure should have always been your lot.” Liam pulled Killian in abruptly and hugged him tight for several seconds, startling Killian before he held onto his brother with equal fervency.
“Thank you,” Killian finally managed when Liam released him. “I don’t know how you managed all this,” he gestured around the room, “but I am sure it began with you.”
Liam flushed slightly, looking down with a sheepish smile. “My idea, aye, but I had lots of help. And it wouldn’t have turned out nearly so well if your honest-to-goodness fairy godmother hadn’t turned up!”
Nova’s ringing laughter once again tickled their ears, her eyes crinkling up prettily as well with her good humor. “It really was my pleasure,” she rejoined. But then she added more seriously, “This is your night, Killian. There is much for you to see and to do, and I bid you enjoy every moment to its fullest. I’ve readied a carriage which will take you to the palace, and Liam can ride along with you as far as the gates. Just remember - the ride and the clothes, the gifts you’ve been granted, will vanish at midnight. It’s simply how the magic works. Make sure you are headed back by then.”
Killian nodded, promising he would do as she said; it was far longer than he could imagine needing, if the truth were told. He wasn’t at all sure what he would do there in any case. And though he wished Liam could venture inside with him, he would gladly take the ride to gather more advice and draw strength from his sibling’s company.
After that, it seemed very little time passed before - head still spinning at the sheer impossibility of it all - Killian was disembarking from a fine horsedrawn carriage at the palace gates. Looking back to grin crookedly at Liam, his brother urged once more “Have fun!” and reassured him that all would be well. Turning, Killian bravely put first one foot, and then the other, forward, until he stepped into the castle of Misthaven, a guest at a royal ball. 
He slipped his hand into his pocket to run his fingers over the ring on an old chain which had once belonged to their mother (Liam had bid him carry it this once for luck) and pulled in a deep, steadying breath as he gained his bearings. He was already dazzled beyond belief, but determined to make a good showing and bring “honor to the Jones brothers” as he murmured under his breath. Whatever he was meant to find, he would do his best.
At that, he raised his eyes, catching sight of the magnificent winding staircase trailing down from the upper floors into the main hall. Halfway down the steps, paused with one foot poised in descent, was a stunningly beautiful, golden-haired vision in sky blue and silver. Killian could scarcely take in the tiara resting upon her head or the clear resemblance she bore to her likeness on all the recent announcements for her birthday. Laying eyes on her in life had struck him motionless, frozen in place. ‘Bloody hell,’  his mind fumbled inelegantly, ‘It’s Princess Emma herself.’
So completely entranced was he, in fact, that Killian failed to realize the princess was just as stunned - equally taken in and unable to move. Their eyes met and held across the distance between them, and one more shining burst of magic was ignited then and there.
Tagging a few others who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi
@anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @xarandomdreamx @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight
@stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @eastwesthomeisbest @bluewildcatfanatic @jonesfandomfanatic
@belovedcreation @goforlaunchcee @laianely @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl
@myfearless-love @undercaffinatednightmare @caught-in-the-filter @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm
@gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @resident-of-storybrooke
@teamhook @revanmeetra87 @jennjenn615 @grimmswan @ultraluckycatnd
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statustemporary · 20 days ago
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free fallin' - Chapter 2
STORY SUMMARY: On a dark and stormy Halloween night 27 years ago, five people stepped onto an elevator. They never stepped off.
Now 28, Emma Swan and her son Henry work together to discover what caused her parents and the other inhabitants to suddenly disappear.
//rewrite of previous work, expanded to a multi-chapter.
RATING: Teen+
WORD COUNT: 3,564
TAGS: Captain Swan, Tower of Terror AU, CSSNS 2022, Graphic Depictions Of Terrifying Sights in Chapter 1, no beta we die like killian jones,
AO3
AUTHOR'S NOTE: ha ha... oops. it's been two years since i updated this. life's crazy and my passion for ouat has faded but i'm determined to finish all my posts WIPs and maybe get my WIP folder on my laptop emptied onto here. i'm trying.
this has changed drastically from the film, mainly because i messed things up in the first chapter but oh well lol. similar premise but obviously things are a free-for-all now in my story. wish me luck trying to finish this lol.
not really sure how i'm feeling about this chapter so i'm sorry in advance if it doesn't live up to expectations! here's to the next one eventually!
enjoy!
***
Uncle James lives in a swanky townhouse just a few blocks from the heart of Storybrooke. The front windows of the place have a magnificent view of the hills in the distance while the back windows peered out at the Hollywood Tower Hotel like a taunt.
Emma hated growing up there.
The entire place felt too modern and unlived. Uncle James refused to have any sentimentality in his living space. No art projects on the fridge, no souvenirs from trips, and definitely no family photos. The farthest he went with décor was a floating shelf of ratty books in Latin. She wondered if what happened that Halloween night 27 years ago haunted him and that’s why he refused any reminder of his twin. Did the mirror play just as cruel of a joke?
Oddly enough, she did stumble upon a picture of her mother in his bedside drawer when she was eight. Mary Margaret looked stunning, her degree placard from Harvard held tightly in her hand with a bouquet of flowers cradled in her opposite elbow. Her graduation gown was flowing in the wind and her smile was positively radiant.
Uncle James caught her looking at the photo and he ripped it from her grasp. She never saw it again.
Not much about the townhouse has changed over the years, including the man residing inside of it. Uncle James remains aloof and standoffish to the point Emma wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot he had a niece at all.
His car, a sleek black sports convertible, is parked out front and it feels promising, even if she dreads the upcoming conversation. It takes a great effort to place one foot in front of the other as she approaches the entrance, her feet feeling as heavy as lead. The sickening weight in her heels is the only thing to prevent her from running back to her car after pressing the doorbell.
Uncle James looks surprised and disappointed to see her on his doorstep. His shoulders visibly drop and his mouth ticks down in a frown. “Emma?”
She flashes a quick smile at him.
“Uncle James, hi. How are you?”
He cuts straight to the point, narrowing the opening of the door so that only a sliver of his body is visible. “What are you doing here?”
The sigh that leaves her lips makes him close the door another inch. “Can we talk inside?”
“Actually Emma, I’m about to leave for – ”
He’s wearing pajamas. And a bathrobe. She swallows down the anger that’s brewing, the almost two decades of resentment towards his willful absence, and steels her shoulders. “I need to talk to you about my parents.” That catches his attention.
Paranoia, or maybe it’s PTSD, seems to take over her uncle as he pales and ushers her inside his townhome, head ducking out the door and swiveling around before he slams it shut and locks it. He brings her to the kitchen and offers her some alcohol as he makes his own drink. She remembers being thirteen and him offering her some of his rum and coke when he realized they had no orange juice in the fridge. The drink disgusted her and he got angry when she spit it in the sink. They never ran out of orange juice after that.
“So…” he begins. His hands are tense where they’re splayed on the kitchen island’s marble countertop. There’s a wild gleam in his eyes that unsettles Emma but she doesn’t know where to place it. She knows reporters, both professional and amateur, have hunted her down and pressured her for a statement, an interview, anything. Had they done the same to her uncle? “What were you saying about your parents?”
“Do you remember that night?” she asks. Uncle James sighs and drops his head.
“I could never forget it.” Defeat thickens his voice as his shoulders grow rigid. He shudders and takes a deep breath before looking up at her. “What about it?”
Emma shifts in her seat. “Can you tell me about it? From your perspective?” He looks ready to deny her so she pulls out the card up her sleeve. “It’s for Henry. He’s doing a project in school.”
“Ah,” he murmurs. A shadow crosses over his face as he collects his thoughts. “There’s not much to say from what I saw, really. I arrived early because my polo club cancelled our game. I saw Mayor Mills, exchanged a few words about the party at the Tip Top Club. I was on the stairs with some fancy drink from the patio bar when I saw your parents head into the elevator. David and I hadn’t talked in a few months but Mary Margaret invited me to the party.” Emma feels herself soften as her uncle smiles absently as he remembers her parents. “Obviously she didn’t tell him I was coming and he was glaring at me. He still hadn’t moved on from our fight. I raised my glass to them, a peace offering. Then the elevator doors closed and that was it… That was the last time I saw them.”
“Did you see anything else that night?” she asks, leaning her elbows atop the island. “Anything strange or… unusual?”
He shakes his head as he looks down at his drink. Silence follows for a beat and then another and Emma’s afraid she’s lost her uncle to his memories of the past. “The lights went out not long after I saw them get on the elevator.” She nods. “Honestly, I thought people were crazy when they said all of them were cursed. I mean, magic?!” He huffs out a laugh of disbelief. A pause and then his face darkens. “If there’s any inkling to that notion, I’d wager on Regina.”
Huh. Emma’s brows pinch together as she mulls that sentence over in her head. The sudden drop of formality with the former mayor was odd. For all the time she lived with Uncle James, he never mentioned Regina before today, much less by name. He never mentioned any of the others either but the way he spoke now hinted at a history. A nasty one at that.
Her mouth opens to ask another question but Uncle James shakes his head and downs the remainder of his drink in one go. “I think it’s time you left, Emma. It was nice seeing you.”
He disappears around the corner to his bedroom at the back of the townhouse before Emma has a chance to say any departing words. Resigned, she gently places her cup in the dishwasher and sees herself out.
***
The late morning air hangs heavy around the hotel. Emma stands outside on the sidewalk, head tilted back as she takes in the massive structure. In reality, she never thought she’d come here, let alone twice in as many days. She checks her watch to confirm she has a few hours before Henry gets out of school. The last thing she wants is for him to be back here.
“Uh…” a voice sounds to her left and Emma turns just in time to see her son stop short, eyes widen, and his body swivel back the way he came.
“Henry!” she calls out in frustration. She watches his small body freeze and tense up as she comes upon him.
He grins small but innocently up at her. “Ha ha… Hi, Mom.”
“What are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be in school today!”
“Well about that…” he laughs nervously. She says his name in warning and he winces, opening his mouth ready to spew an inventive explanation when they hear a creaking behind them.
The metal gate to the hotel opens slowly and the chain-link keeping it closed snakes down to the ground in an exhausted heap. She blinks rapidly at the scene before her, her mouth dropping open in shock. That… shouldn’t happen.
Maybe the chains were just rusted and finally gave way, she tried to reason with herself. Maybe LJ forgot to lock back up after everything yesterday.
So lost in her thoughts, Emma didn’t realize Henry had moved away until she saw his small figure squeezing through the open fence and running up the hill to the hotel. “Henry!” she yells out. Running is her thing – running away from emotions, commitment, the whole shebang. Apparently, her son inherited that from her, just literally.
The bottles of holy water in the pocket of her leather jacket are justled by her running up the driveway. Sage in her bag bumps against her hip. Her gun rests heavily in her holster.
Emma’s eyes scan the landscape furiously.
“Henry!” she calls out. She evens her breathing and rests one hand on her hip where her firearm rests in case some crazy person is behind all this and has Henry.
“Hurry up, Mom!”
Emma turns the last bend of the driveway and lets out a deep sigh. Henry stands in front of the entrance to the hotel bouncing on the balls of his feet. He impatiently waves her over, eyeing the locked front doors.
“You know,” she starts, “I think I should bring you to Granny’s right now. Let her watch over you and see if you try to skip school again.”
Henry whines, head thrown back in exasperation. “But Moooooom! These are your parents!”
“Henry, come on. You can’t really believe that.” Emma bends down in front of him and takes hold of his arms, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles even as her heart bleeds. “My parents disappeared so long ago… This can’t be them.”
“But it is!”
“Henry…”
“What about yesterday?! You believed it was their ghosts when they scared us out of here!”
“Ghosts don’t exist, Henry. How do you explain that, huh? Magic?” She deflates as her son mumbles to himself and looks to the ground. Softening her tone, she continues, “It would be really cool if magic was real but it’s not. Those are probably just projections some twisted loser made to scare people. Okay?”
“Are you calling us Jem and the Holograms?”
They jump at the sudden appearance of a third voice, their heads turning to see Killian Jones leaning halfway through the closed front door.
Emma’s breath stutters while Henry starts, “What the –”
“Tsk, tsk,” Killian taunts. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
She panics. Her hand flies to her bag and she pulls out the holy water, uncapping the bottle and surging the water towards the door.
It seemingly goes through his body, the blessed water streaming down the front door, but he jerks at the sensation.
Then Killian starts to groan, writhing in pain. The half of his body positioned through the door begins to curl in on itself as gurgling from his throat becomes audible. Emma stares – watching and waiting for smoke to sizzle from his frame or for him to disappear but nothing happens.
Until the gurgling changes sound and it becomes clear it’s transitioned into laughter.
Killian raises his head, smirking in glee. “Holy water? Really? I know I’m devilishly handsome but you didn’t really think that’d work.”
The photos never did his smirk justice, she realizes. And all she wants to do is smack it right off his face. With a growl, she stands up straight and marches right through Killian to the front door, pulling the spare key LJ gave her from her pocket.
“Chills, darling,” Killian whispers in her ear. The air shifts around her. Despite the absence of any breath ghosting over her skin, she can feel the way a smirk dances across his lips and the whole thing makes her angrier.
Click. The key sits just perfectly in the lock and the door swings open. She strides inside, Henry following excitedly behind her.
Her back straight as a rod, she places her hands on her hips and stares down the… beings in the hotel lobby.
“Not the friendliest lady, huh?” Killian drawls from behind her.
Henry takes immediate offense. “Hey, that’s my mom!”
“Apologies, lad,” Killian tosses carelessly over his shoulder as he heads towards the bar.
“Enough!” Emma calls out roughly. She narrows her gaze, her voice dropping an octave. “Who the hell is behind this?”
Regina sighs, sitting regally on a cobweb infested armchair in the center of the lobby. She examines her nails with more interest than her voice provides in an answer. “If she weren’t dead, I’d say my sister.”
“Regina!” Mary Margaret quietly admonishes from David’s side near the luggage cart.
“What?” Regina asks, her eyes thinning to slits and lips turning downward. “You’ve met the witch. A house should’ve fell on her sooner.”
“She was really a witch?!” Henry asks, practically bouncing in place from excitement.
Regina scoffs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she actually was.”
“Magic isn’t real,” Emma grits out. She moves just slightly in front of Henry, eyes flicking between the Jones brothers and Regina. “Now explain who is putting on this sick joke because they’ve got a nice harassment charge waiting for when I bring them down to the sheriff’s office. It’d be a pity to add evading arrest to that as well.”
“Well,” states Liam from where he’s reviewing a check-in book. “Once you find out, let us know. I’d like to have a chat with the lad as well.”
“Seriously,” she continues. She puts her hands on her hips to further assert her authority and presses hard enough that she’s sure the skin under her jeans is colorless. “This isn’t funny. Tell me.”
Killian tsks. The sound is quickly growing to be her most hated. “As pretty as you are to look at, lass, I think the peace and quiet was better. I’d have told you if I knew.”
David scoffs, crossing his arms. “Leave the girl alone, Jones. You’re nothing but a drunk – she wouldn’t waste the time with you anyway.”
There’s a shout of indignation from the other side of the room and then the entire lobby erupts into chaos. The Jones brothers jump to the other’s defense as David tosses insults back and forth. Regina adds her own one-liners to the disappointment of Mary Margaret. Their own disagreement drags David into it as well, and he manages to fight off both Regina and the Jones brothers as if a skilled swordsman against multiple enemies.
Words no longer decipherable, Emma subtly steps to the side, one eye on the group and the other searching, investigating. Caution rolls deep within her and she keeps one hand resting on her holstered firearm. Ghosts aren’t real. There’s no such thing. Holy water didn’t do a damn thing.
Sophisticated projector is what she’s looking for, then. They have to be holograms or AI or something that digitally recreated five tragically unsolved missing people, for the pure enjoyment of scaring others. She bets that there’s some YouTube channel that showcases Hollywood Tower Hotel scares, run by whoever is doing this.
Emma’s gaze scans the walls of the outdated hotel.
It didn’t hit her last time, too busy scared for their lives to really pay attention, but the floral wallpaper pulls from the moldings. The green background has faded and the white flowers accenting it yellowed. Burnt out lamps with golden shades sit atop wooden tables covered in layers of dust.
The sound of something rustling wafts through the air but the group of beings either don’t hear it or don’t care. If she follows the sound, though, she might find the ‘genius’ behind it all. Her eyes narrow on a closed oak door near the hallway to the main floor ballroom.
A once golden sign looks like a beat-up bronze, the fake bright finishing having flaked off over the years. Coat Closet. Likely place for someone to setup their gadgets.
The vinyl flooring crackles under her feet as she moves towards the it.
Her head turns at an echoing pair of footsteps and a quick glance back confirms Henry treads closely behind.
The wooden door swings open with a creak. Emma splays her hand against the rough wallpaper and feels around until she hits the light switch. Flickering yellow light fills the cramped space. Pink wool carpet stained from age and buckling wood paneling buried behind huge swaths of clothing greet them first before the smell of must hits their noses.
Henry shrieks and jumps back at the sight of a large rat scurrying over fraying paper and escaping through the lobby.
Great. Nothing in the closet except a rat and leftover coats from that night…
Emma was only a baby when her parents disappeared on Halloween night at the Hollywood Tower Hotel. Grandma Ruth, overwhelmed in her grief, packed up all of their things and tucked them away in a storage unit out of town. Out of sight didn’t mean out of mind, though, and Emma served as a reminder of her broken heart every day, until she couldn’t handle it anymore and went into an eternal sleep.
By the time Emma was old enough to know and inquire about her parents’ things, Grandma Ruth’s storage unit had been auctioned off due to lack of payments.
Aside from a small box of things brought to her Uncle James’ place alongside her diaper bag, everything her parents owned was gone.
Being at the hotel, at the place where she lost them before she could even know them, Emma wants something to hold of theirs. The only thing she has of her mother’s is a pink cardigan, left at Granny’s apartment during a dinner once. Soft, powdery fragrance once enveloped the fabric but has long since faded. Now the small cardigan hangs on her coat rack as a reminder of what is so far from her grasp.
But maybe… maybe in this place seemingly suspended in time… she could have something.
Her eyes have studied the photographs of the night well enough that, once she looks towards the coats, she immediately recognizes the red scarf.
Tucked around the neck of a shimmering floor-length dark coat, the red scarf sticks out in a sea of navy and black. It calls to her and Emma’s fingers slowly reach out. The coat ticket says 191, the black jacket kept close stating 192 most likely belonging to her father.
The fabric is cool to the touch and though spiders and moths have left their mark elsewhere in the hotel, the state of the coat closet is pristine. Could it hold the smell? The perfume Emma has spent half her life looking for? The only thing that reminds her of her mother’s embrace. Of comfort and security and love.
She pulls both coats off the hanger and holds her mother’s up, her nose nearly to the scarf –
“Hey!” Henry calls from behind her.
Emma turns swiftly, her eyes locking in on the beings crowding their way towards them. Her hand shoots out and grabs Henry’s arm, pulling him swiftly behind her.
“Hey,” Mary Margaret echoes quietly. Her brows furrow together as she takes in the sight before her. “That’s my coat.”
Mary Margaret’s hand reaches towards the coat but Emma jerks it back towards her, feeling oddly protective of the thing. The smell of the scarf hits her nose and she rustles the coats in her arms for a better grip, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
“Hey,” her watery voice sounding loud in the tight closet as the others look at her in wide-eyed shock. “Don’t crowd us in here. I’m – ”
“Emma,” David breaths out, her entire body deflating.
Emma blinks, hesitating for a moment. “David?” she asks. “You… remember?”
Tears flood his eyes as he gives her a soft smile. “Of course.”
A fluttering lightness fills Emma’s chest as he steps forward, smile still on his face.
It’s incredible, she thinks to herself. How her father could just know it was her despite all the time that had passed. Maybe this is his ghost and this is her closure.
Emma nearly drops the coats as her father takes another step…
Until he bends down onto one knee and picks something up from the floor. A polaroid.
“We’ve never been able to get in here,” David whispers, more to himself than to her and Henry. He stares at the polaroid as tears roll down his cheeks and a shaky hand comes up to cover his mouth. Mary Margaret leans in close, her own eyes filling, and she rests her head on his arm.
Acting every part the proud father, David shows the others what the polaroid is. “This is our daughter,” he begins, looking up with a wide, watery grin and turning the polaroid towards her and Henry.
The film is slightly overexposed and a person stands in the background more a blur than a defining figure. In the center stands, with help of the mystery figure, a small Emma barely a year old with a spattering of light hair atop her head and a gummy grin directed right at the camera.
“Her name is – ”
“Emma,” she finishes in a rushed, exhausted breath. Looked over by her own baby photo. Damn.
She clutches the coats tighter to her center and Henry looks up at her, confused. “But – ”
“We’re leaving.” Emma frees one hand to grab Henry’s arm and pulls him through the closet, through the ghastly chill of the projected beings in the hotel, and out the front door.
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4getfulimaginator2022 · 2 months ago
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Captain Swan Fic Recs
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Fic Recs (with my cover art)
Tagging the authors on Tumblr: @dancingdoula44, @o-u-a-timer, @killians-sex-hair, @livinglights, @goforlaunchcee
Thank you for all you've done for the CS fandom - sending you much love and many hugs! 🥰❤️💝💞
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myfearless-love · 3 months ago
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Too Well Tangled (Chapter 11/21 - "Something Borrowed, Something Blue… Something Bloody")
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Chapters: 11/21 — "Something Borrowed, Something Blue… Something Bloody"
Rating: Mature
Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Relationship: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Characters: Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Arthur (Once Upon a Time), Knave of Hearts | Will Scarlet, Robin Hood (Once Upon a Time), Mad Hatter | Jefferson
Additional Tags: Captain Swan - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Enemies to Lovers, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Emma Swan, Angst and Romance, Banter
Summary: Determined and tough-minded Emma Nolan is on a singular mission: to rescue her dim-witted brother from the clutches of Killian Jones, the infamously rakish Marquess of Hookstone. Little did she anticipate her own burgeoning desire for the audacious, unscrupulous scoundrel she intended to despise. Killian Jones, the enigmatic Marquess of Hookstone, has more than earned his sinister sobriquet, the "Prince of Darkness." His past, a stormy mosaic of rejection and rebellion, has forged a man both feared and revered. Yet, the indomitable Miss Nolan proves an unexpectedly formidable opponent for his infamous charm. But when Killian's reciprocated passion lands them in a scandalously compromising, and very public, predicament, Emma is left with no recourse but to demand satisfaction...
Previous chapters: ch. 1 II ch. 2 II ch. 3 II ch. 4 II ch. 5 II ch. 6 II ch. 7 II ch. 8 II ch. 9 II ch. 10
READ HERE: AO3 or FF.net
Preview:
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HUGE thank you to my amazing beta @xarandomdreamx for always catching my mistakes and leaving me smiling with her comments!!❤️
Tagging some folks who might be interested:
@anmylica @elfiola @zaharadessert @gingerchangeling @undercaffinatednightmare
@jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @mie779
@winterbaby89 @tiganasummertree @stahlop @rylieblu @ultraluckycatnd
@eddisfargo @booksteaandtoomuchtv @laianely @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke
@beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @captainswan-kellie @veryverynotgoodwrites @lfh1226-linda
@snowbellewells @caught-in-the-filter @shady-swan-jones @bluewildcatfanatic
(Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)
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shady-swan-jones · 14 days ago
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Happy Autumn season! Fics for your cocooning era
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Too Well Tangled (18/21 - "J'adoube") by @myfearless-love
Determined and tough-minded Emma Nolan is on a singular mission: to rescue her dim-witted brother from the clutches of Killian Jones, the infamously rakish Marquess of Hookstone. Little did she anticipate her own burgeoning desire for the audacious, unscrupulous scoundrel she intended to despise. Killian Jones, the enigmatic Marquess of Hookstone, has more than earned his sinister sobriquet, the "Prince of Darkness."
Dreams That You Wish Will Come True by @snowbellewells
Granted a night to seek adventure and dreams, young Killian Jones meets young Princess Emma at her birthday ball. Though the moment is filled with all the excitement and magic of the best fairy tales, it is over too soon and he must leave before the dream is shattered. Will they find each other again? A Reverse Cinderella AU
The Witch in the Woods by @hollyethecurious
“If it’s aid of a magical sort ye seek, then you’ll be wanting to find the witch in the woods.” That’s what the apothecary had told him. The witch in the woods. A designation that brought forth images of an old crone, hump-backed and wrinkled with warts on her nose and long spindling fingers whose knuckles were gnarled and stiff - not the blonde goddess currently grinding an assortment of herbs with her mortar and pestle, her brilliant jade eyes sparkling in the candlelight that was also casting a honeyed glow over her smooth, creamy skin.
Untie Me (7/?) by @shady-swan-jones
“Save the smolder, Jones, you already have me.” But the compliment hits despite her deflection, nestles stubbornly in her heart. 
“Oh well, now it’s over,” he makes an exaggerated face and moves to retreat. He shakes his head, lips together in a line. “Emma, you and I are just beginning. Let me make you feel good.”
She smirks, heat rising to her chest. “How good?”
laundry day by ssadumbass
killian and emma spend some quality time together on laundry day
At the Dawn There is Rejoicing by jdmusiclover
Emma Gold has led a difficult life. Her brother and her father died when she was a child, and she was then coerced into marrying the odious Neal Gold. She thought she’d been granted a reprieve when he was believed to be lost at sea–only for him to return disabled and in need of a caregiver. Killian is a newspaper reporter who is tired of his routine life. When he falls ill, his editor forces him to take a sabbatical. What will happen when Emma takes Killian in as a border for the summer?
Exacting His Revenge by @jrob64
When Hook sees an opportunity to finally get his revenge on Rumplestiltskin, he seizes it, putting him in the company of Emma Swan. A season 2 canon divergent story.
the most dangerous thing is to love by @exhaustedpirate
The Darkness whispers in Killian's ears and he lets it, lets it play him like a puppet so he can get his revenge. But what if the strings are cut? Will he let it manipulate him until his worst nightmare comes true? Until he destroys his happy ending?
Overboard by @elizabeethan
Emma Swan spends years trying to find her parents, and when she finally does, she gets more than she bargains for
Finding Home by PirateDragon28
Emma Swan is living with her twin sister Ruth and Ruth’s 3 year old daughter, Flo. Emma and Ruth were separated at birth and found each other half a year before Flo was born. Now they live in a small 2 bedroom apartment together. Emma’s a bail bondsperson and Ruth works as a police officer for the BPD.
Heart Bound by @4getfulimaginator2022
CS historical AU (mid-19th century), real world setting, teacher!Emma and artist!Killian. After years of private tutoring, Emma goes to teach in a village by the sea in a desperate bid to escape her heartbreak and the outside world. She thinks that she'll always be lonely and out of place, but the local lighthouse keeper, a fellow recluse and the town outcast, makes her see that she is right where she belongs.
Trying Something New by @overlordofthelollipopguild
After Rumplestiltskin traps Emma and Killian in the past, they manage to escape him and realize they will have to live in the past in order to catch up to the future.
Murder Most Foul by CSColifer 
Murdered Killian Jones has one last message for Emma Swan.
Love Bites (But So Do I) by @grimmswan
"Do you have any idea how tempting you look? It's going to take everything in me not to ravage you in front of everyone."
"I'm sure we can find some place to indulge ourselves." Emma grinned wickedly at her lover.
a place in time - chapter xv by @swanslieutenant
Emma’s an agent working to reunite missing people with their families when the biggest missing persons case of all time appears in front of her in a flash of bright, white light. Thousands of missing people from throughout history, including one particular pirate, appear on the shore of a lake in the middle of winter: none have aged a day since their disappearance and, with no memory of their missing time, must venture into a strange and uncertain future. Loosely based on the TV show “the 4400.”
A Cottage by the Sea by @snowbellewells
Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the shore near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the sand, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half.
Flight 815 by @honey77bun
"Hello, who is this? Director William Webster's voice called out. "Hello, this is your assistant, Strickland. I'm calling you on a very important matter." "What's the reason?" "In the case of Flight 815. As you know, at the Coast Guard Air Base in Miami, a girl named Emma Swan appeared on board the plane." "Did you find out she wasn't a spy?"
Can I Be Your Werewolf? by @belovedcreation
After a particularly nasty encounter with a criminal, bounty hunter Emma Swan's friend convinces her to adopt a guard dog from the shelter. Little does she know that the massive dog she brings home is really the werewolf Killian Jones, who's laying low in wolf form to hide from danger. She forms a bond with her pet, one that is tested and strengthened once Killian reveals his true nature. But Killian will never be a free man and Emma will never heal from her past until a power-hungry werewolf is stopped from his mission to control all of Storybrooke.
Burn The Ships (4/?) by @booksteaandtoomuchtv
Pan and his pack of gruesome werewolves torment and put an end to individuals who find themselves unlucky enough to be a guest of Neverland. After being betrayed by her ex, Emma finds herself the game in this month’s hunt.
Captain Hook has never found the sport particularly alluring, preferring to spend his change far from Pan’s cruel crew. When he catches the scent of his mate, he is forced to join in the hunt to find her before the others can.
Saving her will mean betraying Pan and no one betrays Peter Pan and lives to tell about it
An Offer She Can’t Refuse (3/3) by @deckerstarblanche
As soon as he cracked his eyes open the next morning, Killian knew she was gone. With a frustrated groan, he glared up at the stucco ceiling and flipped over onto his stomach, pressing his face into her pillow and feeling like a fool.
Welcome to the Enchanted forest by Emmaducklingsaviour
Post curse and on her 16th birthday Emma gets herself in a time loop with dire consequences. Before she can face them, Emma, Killian, Elsa and Red are suddenly pulled through a portal, returning to the Enchanted forest. This is a direct continuation of Welcome to the Storybrooke
Hope will come by AlwineMews
A new curse has sent the small town of Storybrooke into a deep sleep, freezing time in place. Shortly before the curse broke, a stranger kidnapped Emma and Killian's newborn daughter, Hope, and took her out of town. 28 years later, Hope accidentally drives into Storybrooke and breaks the curse as she crosses the town line.
Can Emma, Henry, Natalia and Killian become a family? And what is the story behind the missing persons and the sudden appearance of Sherlock Holmes?
Misthaven by IreneRose21
After Killian was resurrected by Zeus, the whole town of Storybrooke comes back to The Enchanted Forest. Snow and David become Queen and King of Misthaven again, the largest and most loved Kingdom in the whole Realm. That is until they are betrayed and murdered by a close ally, which causes all the Realm to enter in the most deadly war The Enchanted Forest will ever see.
Happy Beginning Captain Swan by isaballerina89
After Emma Swan finished the final battle with the adult Gideon, Storybrooke changes for the better. Emma and Killian finally have a life that they both can enjoy together without fighting the town's villains.
Unfinished Business by ohmakemeahercules
Don’t let me be your unfinished business, Emma had said. Killian has a lot of thoughts to process and emotions to process before that happens. Takes place right after he sends Emma up the elevator in 5x20 Firebird.
Forget Me Not, Prologue by @zaharadessert
The village of Storybrooke is as unremarkable as any number of villages in the English countryside. It has a pub, a church, a post office and a village green. But one summer a little boy and his mother come to stay, and suddenly some remarkable things start to happen...
Timeless by @killiansprincss
Season 3 divergence - When Zelenas time portal works, Henry wakes up alone in Storybrooke and must travel to the Enchanted Forest to get his family back. Only once he gets there he quickly realises its not like the one in his book, theres no Evil Queen and his mother Emma wasn't put through a wardrobe, theres even a poster inviting the entire kingdom to her engagement ball, to Hook. What will happen once Henry gets them to break this new curse and they get their memories back?
Once Upon A Grimm by @hollyethecurious
The world was far more complex than most people realized. Humans went about their lives, completely ignorant of the fact that there was a world of fairytales existing right alongside them. Well, not really fairytales. Not in the Disney sense, anyway. Many, like the Grimm brothers, had woven the truth into their stories, but the creatures they wrote about were even more nightmarish than their macabre and monstrous depictions.
free fallin' by temporarystatus
On a dark and stormy Halloween night 27 years ago, five people stepped onto an elevator. They never stepped off. Now 28, Emma Swan and her son Henry work together to discover what caused her parents and the other inhabitants to suddenly disappear.
Anything Could Happen (2024) by wildseafairies
Killian and Emma have been friends for years. Not just friends, though—best friends. Until today, that is. Something has changed between them, Killian just can't put his finger on what it is. So, when an inebriated Emma stumbles in the dark room he's been hiding in during Mary Margaret and David's engagement party (and doesn't seem to recognize him), Killian sees his chance at untangling whatever went wrong there by taking an epic trip down memory lane with her. And maybe—just maybe—that's also the way for both of them to confront the intricate feelings they've been quietly harboring for each other…Who knows?
Your Loved by StonEvo
Emma just needs to make it through her Senior year. Then Henry and herself can finally be free of the system and be there own family. But will her New Foster mom, Mary Margaret worm her way into there hearts. And what's with the town sheriff always eyeing her new guardian. Emma could careless if it weren't for the fact that the towns resident bad boy is always with said sheriff also giving her eyes as well as weird butterfly like feeling in her stomach. None of that matters, because Emma's going to graduate and leave this dumb little town behind and hopefully out run the past she also left behind in Boston. All she needs is the only person who truly loves her, Henry.
More
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hollyethecurious · 3 months ago
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CS AU: Pan Says... (13/13)
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Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.
A/N: We've made it! The final chapter is here. Thank you all for going on this journey with me! I hope is does not disappoint!
Much love to my @kmomof4 and @ultraluckycatnd for being amazing cheerleaders and betas! A shout out to all of you who sent me prompts. This fic would not exist without y'all!
Rated E / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six  / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
“There has to be a way out of here,” Killian grumbled as they hit yet another dead end.
Never had he been more eager to get his Swan to safety. Sure, the man who’d been tasked to eliminate her may well be dead, but that didn’t mean she was out of danger. Cassidy was still lurking somewhere within the maze and Killian didn’t want to take any chances of him getting his hands on Emma.
“Killian?” Emma whispered softly next to him, both of them trying to draw as little attention to themselves and their position as possible. “What do we do if Neal finds us before we make it out of here? Assuming there is a way out.”
“There has to be,” Killian replied, bypassing her initial question and leading them down a new corridor. Or had they already been down this way? “Pan can’t trap us in here forever.”
“Sure he can.”
Killian and Emma spun around, stunned to find Neal Cassidy making his way around the corner they’d just turned. Where had he come from? That way had been a dead end. Hadn’t it?
A baseball bat was firmly gripped in one hand as he menacingly tapped the cap of it in the other. No need to guess the weapon he was meant to use in order to complete the grizzly task Pan had assigned him.
“Looks like Emma already took care of your dear old dad,” Neal commented, his eyes taking in the blood soaked into Killian’s sweatpants and smeared across his bare torso and chest. Shifting his attention to Emma he added, “I knew Pan would give you Brennan, leaving Killian and I to duke it out to the death.”
Killian let the man keep his wrong assumptions and tightened his grip on Emma’s hand, hoping she would do the same. Having his focus on Killian as both his target and would-be assassin allowed them the upper hand, even if they were both loath for Emma to be in a position to have to take the man’s life. Neither of them wanted it to come to that, but Neal seemed not the least bit concerned with the idea of cold-blooded murder.
“I’m gonna enjoy this,” Neal murmured darkly, continuing his advance as Killian and Emma both crept backward down the corridor, unwilling to take their eyes off the danger in front of them. “Do you know how often I’ve dreamt of killing you? How many times I begged Pan to let me be the one to punish you?”
Arriving at a T junction, Killian signaled for Emma to go to her right, hanging behind for a moment to ensure Neal did not lunge at them unexpectedly. She’d only just rounded the corner when a panel slid out from the wall, cutting him off from her completely. Forgetting about Neal, Killian spun around and yelled Emma’s name, desperately feeling his way along the panel for a way to remove it.
“Swan!” he hollered, but was unable to determine whether or not she could hear him. Her name had only just left his lips when a whooshing sound gave him a mere moments warning of Neal’s attack. Ducking out of the way, Killian nearly had his head taken clean off by the swing of Neal’s bat, which instead collided with the solid panel separating them from Emma.
“Quick bastard, aren’t you?” Neal muttered, taking aim once more.
His next swing was stalled when Killian demanded to know, “Where’s Emma? How did you manage to separate us?”
“Don’t look at me, pal,” Neal scoffed. “Haven't you noticed the walls moving before now? Hallways seal themselves all the time, creating new dead ends. It’s all part of Pan’s genius.”
“Awfully enamored with Pan, aren’t you?” Killian stated derisively.
“Pan is my family,” Neal shot back. “He’s always looked out for me.” Cocking his head to one side, a sneer crept over his lip as he taunted, “Unlike your own father who left you and your brother to rot in foster care. Left you to the mercy of someone like John Silver.”
Killian tamped down the anxiety and panic the mention of his abusive foster father’s name brought up. He could not afford to let Neal rile him up or make him lose focus. In fact, perhaps it was time to turn the tables.
“Always looked out for you?” Killian countered. “Was he looking out for you when he brought Emma here? When he let me have her instead of you?” Neal’s knuckles turned white as he clenched the grip of the bat tighter in his hands, his teeth grinding together in anger and rage Killian hoped he could work to his advantage. “Tell me, Neal,” Killian continued to taunt, “How was Pan looking out for you when he let me pleasure Emma? Let me caress her body and taste her cunt before fucking her to heights of ecstacy you were incapable of giving her?”
A guttural roar of rage preceded the wild swing of Neal’s bat, but Killian managed to side-step it before it made contact.
“Or was he looking out for you when he forced Emma to her knees to suck me off?” Killian said, throwing another barb at the man who was growing more and more unhinged by the second. “Or when she washed me, or kissed me, or fondled me, or rode me like a bloody goddess?”
Another savage swing broke the air, but when this one also missed its target, Neal, in a rage, rushed at Killian, nearly knocking the breath out of him as they both landed on the ground.
“You think any of that meant something? You think it means she’s yours?” Neal bellowed, striking Killian in the jaw with his fist when he attempted to get up, landing him flat on his back once more. “She’ll never be yours!” Neal roared. “She’s mine!”
Crushing the bat against Kiliian’s windpipe, Neal continued to rail at him. Perhaps he’d done too good of a job riling the man up in the hopes he’d make a mistake. It was clear, however, that Killian had been the one who’d made the fatal error. Frantically, he clawed at Neal’s hands as the man continued to spit vitriol at him, not that he heard a word of it, the sound of his blood thundering in his ears as a ringing began to swell from the lack of oxygen effectively drowned the murderous man out.
No! He couldn’t let the man win. He couldn’t leave his Emma at the mercy of Pan and Neal. He couldn’t… he had to… he must…
Killian’s vision began to tunnel, the black edges of oblivion quickly creeping in as the pressure in his face and head continued to build and his lungs screamed from want of air. With the last of his strength he tried anything and everything he could to dislodge the man from his chest and bat from his throat, but it was no use. Neal would not be moved.
The last vestiges of consciousness began to leave him, his final coherent thoughts of his Swan and the grief he felt as he mourned the life they could have had together. He wished he could see her one last time. Hold her. Kiss her. Tell her he--
Killian jolted from the blast of gunshots that rang out and his lungs suddenly opened, allowing him to draw in a much needed breath. His eyes, which he hadn’t even realized had shut, flew open in time to see Neal Cassidy being propelled backward by the force of the bullets hitting his chest, blood splatter from his wounds erupting in the air and hitting Killian in the face as he continued to choke and gasp for breath.
“Killian!” Emma screamed, her footfalls rushing towards him as he rolled over onto all fours in an attempt to get up. She practically knocked him on his back again, throwing herself at him and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.
“Careful, love,” he choked out, settling back onto his heels as he knelt before her, threading his fingers through her hair and holding her as close to him as he possibly could. Once he was able to breathe again without a choking fit, he pulled back and looked over at Neal’s prone body.
“Is he… dead?”
“I unloaded the clip on him,” Emma told him, her tone giving away none of what she might be feeling over the matter. “So, yeah. He’s dead.”
“Good.”
She released a heavy breath in response, tears pooling in her eyes as relief seemed to engulf her. Cupping her cheek, Killian nuzzled his nose against hers and affirmed, “You did what you had to do, Swan. You saved me.”
“I tried to hurry,” she told him in a slightly hysterical tone. “I knew there had to be a way back around to you. I’m sorry it took me so long to find it.”
“Shhh, love,” Killian soothed, pulling her back into his arms and cradling her head against his chest. “It’s all right now.”
Emma’s eyes fell shut and a tear slipped past her lashes. Before Killian could wipe it away they were both startled by the sound of more panels closing in around them. Getting to their feet they frantically looked about for a means of escape, but there was none. All access points had been closed off to them.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Killian hollered, grabbing on to Emma’s hand for fear they might get separated again. “It’s over! We completed your tasks and survived! We won! Why have you trapped us in here?”
“Yes, yes,” Pan said in an unenthusiatic tone with a half-hearted slow clap accompanying his words. “You’ve won. Congratulations.”
“That's right!” Emma chimed in. “We won, so let us out! You said we’d earn our freedom if--”
“And I am a man of my word,” Pan replied, though there was clear reluctance in his tone. “Even if letting you go will end up costing me dearly. Think of the revenue I’ll lose from my guests when they discover their favorite playthings are no longer available to them?”
“Forgive me if I don’t lose any sleep over it,” Killian grit out through clenched teeth. “Something tells me you’ll manage just fine without us.”
“I suppose,” Pan sighed. “Part of the fun was watching your father and Neal suffer and stew while I played with you. Now that they’re gone…” Another heavy exhale filled the corridor as a panel slid open. “Well, I suppose a deal’s a deal. Pan says, follow the corridor.”
“Wait!” Emma called out, clearly unconvinced that he meant to make good. “This is really it, right? You’re letting us go? We’re free? Forever?”
“Of course,” Pan replied. “Unless you would wish to stay and remain a part of my--”
“Fuck that,” Killian said, pulling Emma along the corridor with haste, ready to be done with this god forsaken place once and for all.
The path led them back to one of the rooms they’d started in and a cold stone of dread dropped in Killian’s stomach when the door shut behind them.
“I knew it!” Emma exclaimed. “I knew it was a trick! I knew he never meant to--”
Her words were cut off by the hissing sound of the fog filling the room. Terror filled green eyes caught his own as they stared at one another in fear.
“K-Killian?” Emma stammered. “Do you… do you think he means to--”
“Relax,” Pan’s voice exasperated from the speaker. “It’s only going to knock you both out. I can’t have you remembering any details that might lead the authorities back here, now can I?”
A shuddering exhale of relief left Killian’s lungs, but it was replaced with a fresh breath of panic. Where did he mean to take them? Would they remain together or would he dump them back where he’d had them grabbed that fateful night?
“Swan,” Killian said desperately. The air around them was already filling with the noxious choking gas and he knew they didn’t have much time. “I’ll find you,” he promised. “If when we wake we aren’t… I swear I’ll find you.”
“I know you will,” she said, clinging to him as she nodded furiously. “Or I’ll find you. We’ll find each other.”
“Aye.” Pressing his forehead to hers, he lowered them to their knees, not wishing for either of them to become injured when they eventually lost consciousness and fell to the floor.
“Killian, I…” Emma gazed up at him, a sentiment he’d longed to hear swirling in her jade depths as the words began to form on her lips. “ I lo--”
“Don’t,” Killian said, cutting her off. “Not here. Not like this.” Taking her face in both hands he pleaded with her, “Tell me when we’re free. Tell me after… after you’ve found me or I’ve found you. Please, love.”
“As you wish,” she slurred out, her body becoming too heavy for his weakened arms to hold. Together, they collapsed to the ground, their bodies entwined with one another as darkness pulled them under.
~/~
A horn blared from the street outside the window jarring Emma awake. Bolting upright, she was stunned to find herself in her apartment, the air thick with two months worth of dust collecting on the surfaces. Glancing down to assess her physical state, she was again taken aback. Someone had dressed her in the very clothes she’d been wearing when she’d disappeared. The same tight jeans, the same gray tank top, the same red leather jacket, the same tall boots, even the same ponytail, she realized, reaching back to run a hand over her hair.
Out of instinct she called out for Killian, hoping against hope he might be somewhere in her apartment as well. After a very short, quick search - her place was tiny with only an open concept living and kitchen area, a bathroom, and a bedroom - she was devastated to discover she was alone.
Patting at her pockets, she found her phone tucked away in one of the interior ones of her jacket. A curse fell from her lips when she tried to unlock it. The thing was completely dead. Rushing to her bedroom, she started tearing it apart in search of her phone charger, all the while trying to decide who she should attempt to contact first.
Obviously, she needed to find Killian, but there was also David and Mary Margaret to consider. They’d been through hell and she didn’t want them to suffer a moment longer than they had to. Not to mention, the police had to be notified, she was probably gonna need a good lawyer, she was desperate to find out if Henry had indeed been returned to his mother, it would probably be a good idea to have a doctor check her out, but out of all of the concerns and worries spiraling through her brain, the thing that continued to drive her as she searched for her damn phone charger was Killian.
She had to find Killian.
Someone started pounding on her front door, causing Emma to freeze. As the assault against her door continued, Emma realized there was one thing that had not been returned to her from the night Pan had her taken.
Her gun.
Looking about for something she could use as a weapon, Emma froze again when a voice began to accompany the banging.
“Killian?” Sprinting to the door, she didn’t even check the peephole before throwing it open.
Hand still raised, ready to set another round of knocks on the surface of her door, Killian stared back at her with equal disbelief and elation.
“Swan,” he breathed, barely able to complete the exhale before Emma launched herself into his arms.
He struggled to keep hold of her and make his way into her apartment as she wrapped her legs around his waist and peppered his face with kisses.
“How… How are you here… How did you… find me so fast.”
“It was Pan,” he muffled against her lips, causing her to flinch back.
“What?”
Setting her back on her feet, he reached into the pocket of the jeans he wore - tight fitted jeans paired with an equally tight black shirt, charcoal colored waist coat, and a black leather bomber style jacket - and produced a familiar looking folded piece of paper.
Closing the door as she took the message from him with trembling fingers, Killian recited the words as Emma read them.
“Pan says… find her.”
Included on the paper was her full address.
“Well,” she said, wetting her lips and handing the note back to him. “Good thing you did, because tomorrow I’m moving to an unregistered address.”
Killian chuckled and they were back in each other’s arms, lips sliding and tongues tangling as their hands clung to the fabric of the other’s clothes.
“You’re alright? Truly?” he murmured in the space between them when they broke apart for air.
“Yes,” she assured him. “But I’m not sure how long I was out. I only woke up a few minutes before you arrived.” Pulling back further, she gazed up at him and asked, “How did you get here so fast?”
With a stunned expression, as though he himself hadn’t quite gotten over the shock of what he was about to relay to her, he said, “I live just on the other side of town.”
Emma was struck by the fact they never once talked about where they lived. All of his stories had been of his life back in the UK, having only mentioned once in passing that he’d moved to the US for a fresh start after his court martial.
“After I woke up and saw the note, I raced over here. Breaking several traffic laws in the process, I’m sure.” Taking her face back into his hands, he caressed the apples of her cheeks with his thumbs. “I had to see. I had to see for myself that you were alright.”
Reaching up, she placed her hands over his and closed her eyes, letting his touch and the comfort of his presence wash over her. When she opened her eyes again, she led them to her sofa, asking, “What about Liam? Or the police? Have you--”
“I called Liam on my way here,” he told her. “He’s booking the first flight out.”
“I guess I half expected him to already be in the States, working with the police or at least connecting with David and Mary--”
“Aye, he did all that,” Killian added, cutting her off so he could relay what Liam had told him over the phone. “After our phone calls to them, Liam and David and Mary Margaret were in contact with one another immediately and he came here to help them convince the police to take up the case again. Unfortunately, his leave ran out and he had to go back, but he said he would reach out to David and Mary Margaret, as well as the detective that’s working our case, to let them know of my return.” With knitted brows he looked around and said, “I’m surprised they aren't blowing up your phone or already at your door.”
“My phone is dead.” She nodded at the coffee table where the useless device was still laying, then glanced around once more as she said, “I was looking for the charger when you…” Emma returned her gaze to his, not wanting to take her eyes off him for fear he might simply disappear. Shaking off the absurdity of that feeling - while trying to convince herself it was absurd - Emma cleared her throat and informed him, “David and Mary Margaret live more than an hour away, so… we have a bit of time before they come barging in.”
“Aye,” Killian acknowledged. “And Liam asked that I wait to go to the station until after he arrives. He uh… he wants to be here. To support me through…”
“Of course he does,” Emma said, running her hand up and down his arm in a supportive and comforting manner. “He’s your brother and he loves you.”
Killian stood and started to pace, his hands sweeping through his hair over and over again. “I’m not sure what I’m going to tell him,” he confided. “About what we’ve been through. About what we… what I had to do in order to gain my…” Stopping dead in his tracks he looked over at Emma with mournful eyes and asked, “How am I going to tell him about Brennan? How do I confess to him that I killed our father?”
Emma sprang up for the couch and wrapped her arms tightly around his middle. “You didn’t kill him, Killian. You weren’t the one responsible for his death. And regardless, you won’t have to face it alone. You won’t have to do any of this alone.” Craning her neck, she captured his gaze and reminded him, “We will get through this the way we’ve gotten through everything else. Together.”
“Aye, love,” he expelled on a relieved breath, crushing her to him. “Together.”
After a few more minutes of simply holding one another, Killian loosened his grip and chagrined, “I’m sorry, Swan. I know I’m not the only one facing a daunting amount of trauma to work through.” Taking her hands in his, he brushed his thumbs over her knuckles, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily before he spoke. “I know now that my father sacrificed everything to protect Liam and me. That he gave up his life to ensure I had a future.” Gently, he placed her hands against his chest and cradled them there, flicking his gaze up to meet hers, the intensity swirling in those forget-me-not depths nearly drowning her. “And I damn well intend to have one,” he murmured fiercely, their lips now only a hairsbreadth apart. “I know you must have your own trepidations about entering back into the world, but I want you to know that I will be by your side. For all of it. Always.”
“I know,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his and losing herself in the fervor of his kiss and the promise it left simmering between them.
After taking a much needed breath, Emma burrowed her face into his chest, refusing to let go as she tightened her arms around him. “For now though?” she implored. “For the little bit of time we have before David gets here and goes all Nolan, or before the police descend with their questions and interrogations, or before your brother arrives and I have to worry about earning his approval…” Killian chuckled at that, giving her a comforting and commiserating squeeze. “Can we just… do this? Can we just… be? Can we just leave the world outside for a little bit longer? I just want you to hold me. Can you just hold me and let me forget about everything else for a while?”
“Aye, love,” he murmured into her hair. “I can do that.”
The tightening of Killian’s arms around her alerted Emma that there was something she needed to do first.
“Um… actually,” she said apologetically, wiggling out of his embrace and shooting him a slightly embarrassed look. “Real quick, I need to um… use the restroom. Sorry.”
Killian chuckled again and fully let her go. “Go,” he said in an amused breath. “Take care of necessities while I make myself useful and get us some tea.” Waggling his brows at her he added, “Then we can cuddle up with a cuppa until the masses arrive.”
Emma smiled and threw out instructions of where to find things as she made her way to the bathroom. When she reached the door, she paused and turned back.
“Oh, and Killian?”
“Aye?”
Drawing in a cleansing breath, she declared, “I love you.”
He whirled around from the cabinets and beamed at her, elated. “And I you, Emma,” he murmured back, clearly torn between taking her in his arms again and letting her continue on with what she needed to do. “And I you.”
“Hold that thought,” she told him with a coy smile, her hand pressed against the bathroom door while her attention remained focused on him for a second longer. Watching him smile that adorable boyish grin as he went back to puttering around her kitchen, Emma placed her other hand over her chest. Her heart was full and feeling as though it might burst from relief and joy and hope and a certainty that settled deep within her.
They were going to be okay. There was a lot for them to face and get through and overcome, but… he loved her and she loved him. They were going to be okay.
Swinging the door open, she stepped into the bathroom, then stopped short with a gasp falling from her lips that took her elated smile with it.
“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed before clamping a hand over her mouth.
Killian’s rushed footfalls were accompanied by his frantic tone as he demanded, “What is it? Swan, are you--”
She flicked her gaze up to the mirror, her face white and her eyes wide as saucers. When he joined her his attention was on her reflection, but then followed her gaze as it returned to the counter, and the note laying there.
A note she somehow had not seen earlier when she’d quickly checked the bathroom for Killian.
A note that was sitting atop a very distinctive object.
“Is that…”
A pregnancy test.
Emma nodded and they both leaned down to take a closer look. Hands shaking, Emma picked up the stick and a shuddering breath left her lungs as Killian read the scrawling words that had been penned on the paper.
Pan says, congratulations are in order.
The End
(cue evil laugh)
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hookedonapirate · 4 months ago
Text
I’LL WAIT A LIFETIME OR TWO
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Summary:
At forty, Emma Swan is living her best life. She's happily single and owns a thriving art gallery with her best friend Elsa. And of course, there's the love of her life, her teenage son, Henry.
Since the divorce three years ago, her carefully curated life has been quiet, peaceful, ordinary. She couldn’t ask for anything more. So why does the one guy she ends up falling for have to be the rockstar her son has a poster of on his bedroom wall, whose life is nothing short of extraordinary?
The Idea of You AU
Rated: M
AO3
Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6
CHAPTER SIX
Colors bleed into one another like a masterfully painted canvas—streaks of pink and orange fading to purple as the sun dips into the horizon. Killian and I are poring over the menus in a cozy booth tucked away in a recessed alcove on the terrace, the ocean waves crashing into the shore. Twinkling lights are strung through the trees, illuminating the lush gardens. Flames flicker in the fire pits dotting the landscape, and soft music drifts through the air, creating an enchanting atmosphere.
His eyes rove over my red dress before his gaze catches mine, and he flashes me one of those heart-stopping grins that has my stomach doing a somersault. “Swan, have I told you how ravishing you look tonight?”
I manage a laugh, the familiar warmth creeping into my cheeks. “About four times already.” Twice during the car ride, once after he handed the keys to the valet and once again when we were shown to our seats. Though, neither time failed to make my cheeks heat.
“Is this place okay?”
I set down the menu and sit back, resting my hands in my lap as my eyes sweep over the alcove, taking in the fairy tale setting—a perfect blend of elegance and intimacy, with dark wood accents, plush seating and candlelit tables, the air filled with the scent of blooming flowers, sea salt and delicious food. “It’s perfect.” My eyes come back to his, lips twitching into a smirk. “But honestly, you could’ve taken me to Mcdonalds and I’d be happy as a clam.”
He chuckles, a deep, hearty sound that sends goosebumps over my skin.
He thinks I’m joking.
“I almost opted for Nobu, but I wasn’t sure if you liked sushi,” he says.
My eyes widen. “Are you kidding? I love sushi.”
His smile is a thing of beauty, lighting up his features in a way that rivals the setting sun. He extends his hand under the table, seeking mine, and when our fingers intertwine, electricity zips through me. His touch is warm, firm yet tender. “Good to know for next time.”
Next time?
There goes my stomach again, doing another somersault.
I love the idea of next time.
“I should’ve known you loved sushi. Henry gets his good taste from his beautiful mum.”
A blushing smile crosses my lips, and I squeeze his hand, my heart pounding as I fight off the urge to pull him closer and kiss him. Even though we’re cocooned in a pocket of privacy within the restaurant’s lush gardens, we’re not entirely invisible. A few of Killian’s acquaintances have already made their way over, each receiving a nod or a handshake from him.
When he introduced me as his art consultant, I played along, grateful for the anonymity the title afforded me. I have no desire to become tabloid fodder, especially not when my heart is tangled in a situation it shouldn’t be. I’m supposed to be on a date with a furniture shop owner, not dining with a rockstar.
As we chat, I’m acutely aware of Killian’s hand in mine, the warmth of his skin, the strength of his grip, and I’m imagining what it would be like to be alone with him—truly alone. The possibilities send a rush of heat through my veins. 
When his thumb traces gentle circles on my skin, tiny shivers shoot up my arm. The contact is tender, intimate, and I can’t help the way my breath catches just a little. Then he frees my hand briefly, making me miss his warmth, but it’s only long enough for the server to approach, jot down our orders and retrieve the menus from us.
“So, where is Henry tonight?” The softness in Killian’s voice matches the touch of his hand as he slips his palm into mine, threading our fingers together once more.
“He’s staying over at Roland’s house.” I take a sip of my pinot noir, savoring the rich bouquet of ripe cherries, a hint of spice and subtle earthy undertones. But the alcohol does nothing to soothe the fluttering in my chest.
He arches an eyebrow. “Is that the lad who was at Coachella with you?”
I nod, smiling. “Yeah, they’ve been best friends since elementary school.”
He leans back, a half-smirk playing on his lips as he watches me with an intensity that feels like it could pierce right through our casual facade. “That’s nice.” His eyes narrow slightly, a playful glint in them. “Did you tell Henry I was at your house for lunch the other day?”
I can’t help but laugh at the thought, picturing Henry’s reaction. His jaw would be on the floor, his expressive green eyes would grow impossibly wide and he’d launch into a barrage of questions, each one more incredulous than the last. “No way. He would lose his mind if he knew you were there. He’d probably also be furious with me for not including him.”
His thumb strokes the back of my hand beneath the table, a clandestine gesture that sends ripples of warmth through me. “Will you tell him you ditched your date to have dinner with me?”
I sigh, shaking my head. “No, probably not.” My fingers tighten around the stem of my glass, the truth settling heavy on my tongue. “I wouldn’t even know what to tell him at this point.” How could I possibly explain to my son that the man whose name alone would send him into a frenzy is the same man who turns my insides into liquid?
“Fair enough.” Killian squeezes my hand gently. He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand answers or declarations, and I’m grateful for it. Grateful for this moment of reprieve, where I can simply exist beside him without the weight of explanations hanging over us. “You don’t have to tell him anything right now. We’re just having dinner, right?” There’s a lilt of playfulness in his voice that makes his British accent even more pronounced, a wink accompanying his words.
I smile wryly, the tension easing from my shoulders. “Right. Just dinner.”
But we both know this isn’t just dinner. Just like lunch wasn’t just lunch.
“What about Elsa?” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice.
I can picture her now, her raised eyebrow, the knowing look she’d give me if she were here, witnessing Killian’s thumb caress mine. She would see right through our charade of “just dinner” without missing a beat.
As I’m about to respond, the waiter arrives with a basket of warm bread and a dish of herb-infused olive oil. Killian thanks him and offers the basket to me before taking a piece.
I break mine in half, dipping it into the olive oil.
We take a bite, and I savor the warm, fluffy texture as I continue our conversation. “I told her we went out to lunch but that it was only business. I think she’s on to me.” I’ll have to figure out how to tell her and Henry about Killian later. For now, I let myself be swept away by the moment, the uncertainties of tomorrow fading into the background.
“So, when do I get to meet her?”
My heart flutters, betraying my calm exterior. The idea of him meeting Elsa, facing her scrutiny, her silver-blonde hair likely to bristle like an indignant cat’s fur, is both terrifying and exhilarating. “She won’t be happy when she finds out I ditched Walsh for you. She’ll probably interrogate you to find out what your intentions are. Henry will too, just so you know.”
Killian’s chuckle rumbles through the alcove, warm and rich. “Can’t wait.”
I arch a brow. “You’re really up for that? Elsa can be pretty fierce, and Henry—well, he’s very protective.”
“I can handle it.” He flashes a smile, one that says he’s faced tougher critics than my protective entourage. “Besides, I have nothing to hide. Just ask Google.” The twinkle in his eye tells me he relishes the challenge—a man used to the spotlight, unfazed by scrutiny. Yet beneath the bravado, there’s a sincerity that makes me believe he’s not just playing the part. Killian Jones might be an open book to the world, but he’s still full of stories yet to be told. And I find myself wanting to read every page.
I smirk, my finger tracing the rim of my wine glass. “I could…but what I want to know are the secrets I can’t find on Google.”
A smile, disarming and far too charming, stretches across his lips as he leans back in his seat and rubs his chin, thinking for a moment. “Alright, here’s one—my moniker as a kid was Hook.”
Laughter bubbles up from my chest as I picture a young Killian, a boy full of spirit and spunk, bearing that nickname. “Hook, huh? Like Captain Hook? How did you get that nickname?”
His eyes, those deep pools of blue, hold mine, and in them, there’s a flicker of the boy he once was. “From a fishing trip with my brother Liam. We were out on the lake, and I was determined to show off my fishing skills. When I finally caught a big one, I thought I’d impress him by handling it myself. But as I was trying to remove the hook, the fish gave a sudden flip of its tail, and the hook ended up in the back of my hand. Liam couldn’t stop laughing, and from that day on, I was ‘Hook’.”
“Oh my God, that sounds painful.”
“It wasn’t my finest moment, but it certainly left a mark.” He holds up his free hand, showing the small scar on the back of it. “And a nickname.”
I lean in, my fingers gently tracing the rugged scar. My brows knit together involuntarily as I look up at him with a teasing smile. “That’s your big, juicy secret?”
“Well, maybe not juicy by tabloid standards, but it’s a part of me you wouldn’t find in any magazine. Liam and I made a deal long ago to not share embarrassing stories with the world. Some things we like to have for ourselves.”
I shake my head and laugh. “You know, I was expecting something more...I don’t know, scandalous?”
A playful twinkle lights his eyes as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “If you want scandalous, I could tell you about the time my ex-girlfriend, Milah, a French actress, dumped me for Robert Gold.”
My eyes widen, my wineglass poised in the air before it can make it to my lips. “Wait, Robert Gold? As in the American singer and pianist?”
He nods regrettably, a shadow of some past hurt crossing his face. “Milah and I met before I became famous. She was friends with Mary Margaret, who had just started dating David at the time, and came to one of our gigs. We bonded over our love for music—she studied piano and classical music before going into acting.”
I nod, finally taking a sip of my wine.
“We kept our relationship a secret for a while.”
“But then she left you for Robert?”
“Aye.” His eyes meet mine, a storm brewing in their depths—a tempest that speaks of betrayal and heartache weathered and survived, like that of my own. “Apparently, I wasn’t mature or famous enough for her.” He lets out a soft chuckle, but there’s an edge to it that speaks volumes. “It stung, but then Midnight Moon started gaining popularity, we signed with a big record label and ended up outselling Robert in albums.” A sly grin returns, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not that I was keeping track or anything.”
“Of course.” I smirk, understanding all too well the bittersweet triumph of proving oneself against the doubts of an ex.
Killian shrugs. “And it wasn’t until I became famous that Milah started reaching out to me again. But I haven’t responded to any of her calls or texts. Nor do I plan to.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Ah, becoming famous—the perfect revenge on your exes.”
He chuckles. “It really is.”
Then I think about something for a moment, recalling the last time I saw a picture of Robert Gold on social media. “But isn’t Gold like sixty?” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I wince, hoping I haven’t prodded a tender wound too harshly. “Not that I’m one to judge someone’s age,” I add quickly.
“Aye, he is. But Milah…she’s a bit older than me. Thirty, to be exact. At the time we were dating, I was eighteen and she was twenty-four.”
I laugh, raising an eyebrow teasingly. “So, you have a type?”
“A type?” He shakes his head. “Not really. I actually liked Milah.” His expression softens as he leans in even closer, the distance between us diminishing further, and I’m caught in the gravitational pull. “But now I find myself drawn to blondes with eyes the color of emeralds.” He meets my gaze with a twinkle in his eye. “Okay, that’s a lie, there’s only one blonde—one woman—I’m interested in.”
My heart doesn’t just skip a beat—it falters, flutters, then thunders back to life with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. A wave of warmth cascades through me, pooling in my stomach and spreading to the tips of my fingers intertwined with his. His thumb traces small circles on the back of my hand.
“I hope I didn’t offend you that day at Coachella by mistaking you for Henry’s older sister.” He chuckles at himself. “I genuinely thought you were.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “No, not at all. I took it as a compliment.”
“Good. But don’t worry, I won’t ask how old you are because it’s impolite and also because it doesn’t matter to me.”
“Well, I just turned forty last month,” I admit, my cheeks heating. “Ready to run yet?” I ask, afraid he might think of me as a middle-aged woman clinging to the fringes of her youth.
He doesn’t even flinch. “Absolutely not.” He graces me with a reassuring smile, his eyes full of warmth. “I told you, it doesn’t matter to me.”
My eyes lock with his, and I find myself ensnared in his cerulean depths that seem to hold galaxies of unspoken words. The air between us crackles, each second stretched taut with anticipation. I can’t help but wonder where the night will take us, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I just want to enjoy our time together, no matter how it ends.
Our server returns with sautéed lump crab cakes and a watermelon salad with feta and mint. After he leaves, we eat our food, falling back into easy conversation.
“My favorite place as a kid was this old lighthouse near our home,” Killian replies when I ask him about his childhood. “There was something about it—standing tall and resilient against the chaos of the sea. It always made me feel safe when I was inside it, like it could weather any storm. And now, I feel like that lighthouse sometimes. Trying to survive all the crowds and chaos. Trying to survive the storm.”
His words hit me like a tidal wave, crashing against my heart and leaving me speechless. His metaphor is profound, striking a chord deep within me. “That’s so beautiful,” I breathe, my voice almost a whisper. “I mean, it’s beautifully put. And I can definitely see how you would feel like a lighthouse braving the storm in your line of work. I could never do what you do. And you make it look so easy.”
He blushes, his lips quirking up into a smile. “Thank you, love.” He squeezes my hand, the tips of his ears just as red as his cheeks. “The lighthouse actually inspired a song I’m writing.”
My curiosity is piqued. “I’d love to hear it.”
“It’s still a work in progress. And honestly, I don’t know if I’ll share it with the band. It’s something I wrote for myself.”
I nod. “I get that. Some things are just too personal to share. But if you ever feel like letting someone else hear it, I’d be honored.”
His eyes soften. “That means a lot. Maybe one day, I’ll play it for you.”
“Whenever you’re ready.” I find myself even more drawn to him, wanting to pick the creative part of his brain, the artistic side of him. “So, is that where you did most of your writing? When you were at the lighthouse?” 
He chuckles, scratching behind his ear. “Actually, no. I do my best writing when I have the telly on in the background and an electric guitar in my hands. If someone saw me, they would think I was watching the telly while playing the guitar, but what I’m actually doing is coming up with song lyrics. Something about the noise helps me focus.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “That’s so funny. That’s exactly how Henry does his homework. He always has the TV on, his laptop in front of him and his music blaring—your music blaring. But me? I can’t think if there’s a fan humming in the background. I need complete silence to concentrate.”
He nods, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “What about you, Emma? What was your childhood like?”
I take a deep breath, smiling softly as memories flood back. “Well, I grew up in a small town. My childhood was pretty normal, I guess. My parents were always supportive, but they were also pretty strict.” Their expectations were like the masterpieces they so loved—to be protected and preserved. “My father’s an art history professor at Harvard. My mother was a curator. She’s retired now.”
“Art is the family business, then?” he asks, a half-smile playing on his lips.
“Sort of, yes.” My answer comes out softer than intended, a hint of nostalgia threading through the words. “Their worlds revolved around art, and I got swept up in it long before I knew how to walk.”
“Did you attend Harvard?”
“I went to Brown. Then Columbia for my master’s.”
“Brown and Columbia,” he muses, lips curling into a smile. “That’s quite impressive, Swan.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “Thank you,” I murmur, the words almost lost to the soft music.
“Did that piss off the professor?” His eyebrow arches in playful curiosity, his voice low and smooth. “Not going to Harvard?”
“A little.” A smile finds its way to my lips at the memory of my father’s stunned silence when I told him about Brown. It had been my first step out of his shadow, my own declaration of independence.
Killian’s eyes lock with mine, gleaming with mirth and something more—understanding, perhaps. He gets it, the need to forge one’s path, even if it means disappointing those we love. He knows what it’s like to choose the unexpected road, to chase a dream no one else can see but you. “Probably not as much as blowing off Cambridge to join a rock band.”
I laugh. “No, probably not.”
Once our glasses are empty, he refills them from the bottle chilling in ice. “Did you have a favorite place as a kid? Somewhere you could hide from your parents?”
I nod. “I loved spending time outdoors, exploring the woods and fields near our house. And there was this old oak tree I used to climb up and sit on one of the sturdy branches, sketching the landscape. I was always drawing—anything and everything. ”
His eyes light up. “You draw?”
I nod, my cheeks warming. “I do.”
“You’ve been holding out on me, Swan. Can I see some of your work?”
“Maybe someday. I haven’t drawn much lately, though. Running the gallery keeps me pretty busy.”
He eyes me thoughtfully. “You should make time for it. It’s important to keep doing what you love.”
His words hit me with an unexpected force, and I smile. “I’ll have more time this summer. Henry’s going to camp next month at Jameson Ranch.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he goes there every year. He loves everything there, the horseback riding, the rock climbing, the archery. I waited for the year when he’d say he’s too old, but it never happened. Now, this is his last year.”
“Sounds like an amazing camp.”
I nod. “It really is. I’m glad he gets to enjoy it one last time before he graduates next year.”
“Does he have any plans after graduation?”
I chuckle, lightly teasing, “Hopefully, they don’t include ditching college to start a rock band.” I raise an eyebrow playfully at Killian, who feigns offense, his hand over his heart in mock hurt.
“I’m kidding. Honestly, I’d be proud of him no matter what he does after high school.”
He smiles, taking a sip of his wine.
“But to answer your question, he’s been talking about going to LA Film School.”
Killian raises his brows, his eyes lighting up like the stars that have begun to pepper the evening sky. “Film school? Sounds exciting.”
“Yeah. He’s always had a knack for storytelling.”
“I bet he’ll do amazing. And how do you feel about him moving away for school?”
“I’ll hate it,” I admit with a laugh. “But I want him to pursue his dreams. Besides, he won’t be too far.”
“He can always come back during breaks and summers,” Killian reassures me with a nod.
“Yeah, it’ll be an adjustment, but I’m sure he’ll be ready to get out on his own and not have to live with his mom anymore.”
He chuckles. “I’m sure he’ll miss you like crazy when he’s gone.”
The waiter arrives with our entrées—herb-crusted salmon for Killian and a ribeye steak for me.
As we take our first bites, the flavors burst on my tongue—rich and perfectly seasoned, a hum of contentment escaping my lips.
Killian watches me with an amused glint in his blue eyes. “Good, isn’t it?”
“Delicious.”
We eat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, stealing glances between bites.
“So, Henry and film school,” Killian says, returning to our earlier conversation. “Do you think he knows what kind of films he wants to make?”
I take a sip of my wine, loving the fact he’s asking about Henry and not just me. And even though I easily got bored listening to Walsh go on about his furniture shop, I’d be happy if Killian only spoke about himself. I could listen to him talk all day. “He’s still figuring that out, but he loves sci-fi and fantasy.”
Killian nods and smiles. “Ah, my favorite genres.” He takes another bite of his fish. “Oh, and by the way, I Googled that Ghost scene you were telling me about.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“I just have one question.” He holds up a finger, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Do potters always stroke the mold like that when throwing?”
I almost choke on my wine and laugh. “Uh, no. I think they were going for a steamy scene without going all pornographic.”
He chuckles, his cheeks red. “I figured as much.”
Finally, we’re served crème brûlée for dessert. The top is perfectly caramelized, with a thin, crisp layer of sugar that cracks under the spoon to reveal the creamy custard underneath.
I take my first bite and let out a small moan. The combination of the crunchy caramel top and the smooth vanilla custard is heavenly. I feed him a bite, and the way his eyes roll back, the rough groan he makes, sends heat to my core. I have to squeeze my thighs together to curb the temptation to have him for my dessert. At least for now, while we’re in public.
When the bill is paid, there’s a knot of dread in my stomach at the thought our evening might be drawing to a close soon.
Killian moves closer to me, his voice low and husky. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” My stomach flutters with nerves at the prospect of what his question might be.
“Please, feel free to say no if you don’t want to. There’s no pressure here.” Hesitation flickers in his mesmerizing blue eyes, so I place my hand on his leg, giving him a reassuring squeeze.
“I promise I’ll say no if I’m not up for it.”
“Would you want to come back to my hotel room? It’s just a little more private there…”
I pause, the final bite of the crème brûlée halfway to my lips as I turn my head to look at him, sincerity in his gaze. The air between us thickens, rich with unspoken possibilities, and something stirs inside me, a longing I’ve kept at bay, one that’s been restrained by caution and past pain. But Killian has a way of crumbling the walls I’ve built around myself.
I finish the bite of dessert, the spoon clinking against the porcelain as I set it down. I lean back, folding my arms. “Trying to get me alone, Jones?”
A rosy pink blush paints his cheeks. “Maybe I am.”
I can’t help but laugh as he gives me the same answer I gave him the other day when he asked me if I was flirting with him.
“And what are your intentions once you get me alone?”
He chuckles and wets his lips with his tongue, leaning closer. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, his voice dark, almost a whisper. “Well, I watched you eat that dessert…the way you licked your lips and made those sexy noises…the way you kissed me the other day…”—His gaze moves to my mouth, his eyes ablaze with desire, his thumb caressing my shoulder—“and I really want that wicked mouth of yours on mine again. But honestly, I’d be happy to simply continue chatting.” The easy grin fades, replaced by something far more telling—a seriousness that belies his usual charm. “So, my intentions are whatever you wish them to be, love.”
My breath catches in my throat. “Really?” I challenge, my teeth catching on my bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the smirk that threatens to break free. “Whatever I wish?” My efforts are futile, it curls the edges of my lips regardless. “Alright then, how about you perform a song and dance number on this table?”
He arches a brow. “That’s your wish?”
“That’s my wish.”
He gives a nonchalant shrug, his cerulean eyes dancing with amusement. He launches from his seat, and before I know it, he’s halfway on the table. I reach out and grab his arm to stop him, giggles bubbling up from my throat at the thought of him actually going through with it. “I was kidding.” As he settles back into his seat, I narrow my eyes at him. “I can’t believe you were actually going to do it.”
His head tilts back slightly, and those piercing blue eyes crinkle at the corners. “Swan, you do realize you’re asking a rock star who’s used to outrageous requests and performing in public, right? You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to shock me.”
“Is that so?” I tease with a devilish smirk, placing my hand on his chest, feeling it beat under my palm.
He chuckles. “That is the most mischievous grin I’ve ever seen.”
My cheeks heat.
“What am I going to do with you, Swan?”
“Apparently, whatever I want you to do.” It’s been so long since I’ve allowed myself to be swept up like this—since I’ve let someone see the side of me that isn’t all business and pragmatism. Despite how flushed I am from all this flirtatious banter, I manage to make it out of the booth. I look over my shoulder. “You coming, Jones?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grabs his jacket and follows behind me.
When he catches up to me, I have to refrain from touching him until we get into his car. I can tell he’s just as tortured by the way he’s running a hand through his hair and looking over at me, a hunger sparking in those deep blue eyes.
Once we’re outside, the cool breeze sweeps around us, and I try to rub the goosebumps from my arms.
"Here, love.” Without missing a beat, Killian shrugs off his jacket and holds it open behind me, allowing me to slip my arms into the sleeves. He adjusts it on my shoulders and rubs my covered arms. The leather is warm from his body heat and smells faintly of his cologne, a comforting mix of spices and something uniquely him. "Can't have you freezing out here."
I pull the jacket closer around me, grateful for the warmth and the gesture. "Thanks, Killian." I smile at him. The jacket is a little big on me, the sleeves hanging past my fingertips, but it's perfect. "Won't you be cold, though?"
He shakes his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Don't worry about me, Swan.” He wraps his arm around me and pulls me a little closer. “If I get cold, you’ll keep me warm, right?”
I roll my eyes and laugh, heat rushing to my cheeks. "Ever the charmer," I reply, leaning into him as we wait for the valet to retrieve Killian’s car.
As soon as we’re in, his hand quickly finds its way under the skirt of my dress and around my thigh, and my hand finds its way onto his shoulder. But there’s too much distance between us.
He brings me back to my car at Blair’s, and I follow him on the twenty-minute drive to Sunset Tower, which stands tall against the cityscape. We agreed it’s better to arrive separately in case paparazzi are lurking around. I wait a few moments in my Bug after he disappears inside, my heart pounding. I check my hair in the mirror and make sure there's no food in my teeth about four times while I gather the courage. I want this, I know I want this, I’m just hoping he won’t take one look at me without my clothes on and run away. Or worse, give me a pity fuck.
I shake away the doubts clouding my mind. Killian is not like that, and I know this. Unlatching the car door, I step out and head inside the hotel. I may not know him very well, but each time we talk, it’s so easy, so comfortable. We don’t have to force the conversation, it just flows naturally. We’re not two people with sixteen years between us, we’re just two people drawn to each other. And the more I get to know him, the more I see the kindness in his heart. The man behind the rockstar persona.
Once inside, I step into the elevator and press the button for his floor. As I ascend to the top, my heart flutters with excitement and nerves. I check my reflection on the reverse camera setting on my phone and take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. When the doors part, I step out and make my way down the corridor.
Tiny, Killian’s loyal bodyguard, stands watch at the end of the hallway, his hawk-like eyes scanning me briefly before he nods in recognition. Whether he knows what might transpire beyond the door to Killian’s hotel suite, he gives no indication.
Returning his nod, I continue down the hall—my heart pounding like a drum against my chest with every step closer to the suite number Killian had shared earlier. Taking a fortifying breath, I rap lightly on the polished wooden door.
Before I have time to talk myself out of this, it swings open and he’s standing before me, flashing one of his heart-melting grins.
“Hi, Swan.” He steps aside to let me in.
“Hi.” I manage a smile of my own, a thrill shooting up my spine as I enter his room, my stilettos clicking on the shiny hardwood floor.
He closes the door behind me, shutting out the rest of the world.
Finally, we’re alone again.
I’ve been waiting for this moment since he left my house. I couldn’t actually believe our kiss was a one-time thing as I was saying it out loud. I knew I wouldn’t be able to ignore my feelings for this man.
“Would you like something to drink, love?”
I shake my head and slip off his jacket, throwing it over a chair, his eyes roaming over me from head to toe.
All I want is him.
My heart races as we gravitate toward each other, closing the distance between us.
On the way here, I had questioned whether we would just chat or make out once we got here, or whether I’d even make it here at all, but now that he’s standing here in front of me, looking like he wants to devour me, I’m powerless to resist him—and truthfully, I don’t want to.
Our eyes are locked, the air crackling with a raw, electric charge that’s been building all night. I reach up, my hands finding the nape of his neck, pulling him down toward me. Our lips meet, a soft brush at first that quickly ignites into something more urgent, more demanding. The kiss deepens, and I taste the hint of the wine and crème brûlée we shared. I cup his cheeks in my hands, our mouths moving together with a familiarity that belies the short time we’ve known each other.
He wraps his arms around me as I snake mine around the back of his neck. My breath catches in my throat as his palms glide over the fabric of my dress, mapping the contours of my body as if committing it to memory. I’m already moaning softly into his mouth, lost in the sensations of him, the warmth of his body pressing against mine, the stubble on his jaw scratching softly at my skin, and the way his hands roam across my back, tracing the curve of my spine.
We break the kiss briefly, both of us sucking the same air into our lungs before reclaiming each other’s lips. I lean into him, deepening the kiss—his tongue hot and soft on mine, eager but not too much. It’s a dance we’re engaged in, and every move he makes only draws me in deeper.
He turns me around with a gentle insistence, and I gulp in air, my heart pounding against my ribcage, erratic and wild. His hands slip under the hem of my dress, his fingers brushing against my thighs, teasing, promising, until they find the silk barrier of my panties.
A gasp escapes me, unbidden, as he dips his hand beneath the fabric, his touch bold and unapologetic against my bare nub. I reach a hand behind him, cradling the back of his head as he kisses my earlobe, his breaths hot and heavy against my skin. Holding on to him is all I can do to not melt completely under the deft movements of his fingers, each stroke unraveling me even more. I feel like a teenager all over again.
“Swan…” His voice is low and seductive in my ear, sending a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the cool air of the hotel room. “Gods, you’re soaked.”
I bite my bottom lip and close my eyes as I arch into him, seeking more of the exquisite touch, my body betraying its eagerness for his skilled caresses. “Killian.” His name is a whispered plea, a prayer, on my lips as his fingers explore with an artist’s finesse.
It’s surreal, being here with him in his hotel room. Out there, in the real world, I’m Emma Swan—pragmatic, collected, an art dealer, a mother. But here, under Killian’s masterful touch, I’m coming undone, my usual poise giving way to raw desire. He’s young, magnetic, a rockstar used to captivating crowds, yet here, it’s just us, and he plays me like the strums of his guitar—each note building to a crescendo only he can command. The world falls away, leaving only the here and now, the heat of his touch, the pounding of my heart and the insatiable hunger that builds with every passing second.
He dips his head, his breath hot against the nape of my neck as he unclasps the strap of my dress with his free hand, letting the top fall away. He reaches under my bra cup, his hand shaping my breast, his thumb toying with my nipple as he kisses my neck. I tremble, caught in a web of sensations spun by his deft movements. My moans fill the room, unrestrained and foreign, like the sounds belong to another woman entirely—one unshackled by past fears or reservations. It’s been so long since I’ve moaned like this. In fact, I don’t think I ever moaned like this with Neal, yet Killian’s able to coax the sounds out with only his fingers.
Both of my hands are reaching behind us, fisting his hair for purchase as I completely give in to this man. He finds a rhythm, a dance of fingertips against the most sensitive parts of me, driving me wild, pushing me toward a precipice I’m all too willing to tumble over. The edge looms closer with each stroke, and I cling to him, lost in the storm he’s conjured inside me.
“Killian!” I scream toward the heavens as I ride his fingers, my walls pulsing around them. And I’m there, crumbling to pieces, coming all over his hand, and I’m gasping for air, my fingers tightening in his hair, clinging to him as he holds me sturdy in his arms.
Holy fuck.
That was…
My brain is too much like mushy oatmeal to put together the words to describe it.
Killian just holds me for a moment as I catch my breath, waiting for my heart to slow.
Once I’m able to move again, I manage to turn around and wrap my arms around the back of his neck, wanting to kiss the smug grin off his face. His arms encircle me, and he lifts me with an ease that sends another jolt of desire through my veins. The world tilts and spins around me, but I’m anchored by his gaze, his eyes holding mine. As he carries me across the room, our lips crash together again, a messy, perfect collision, his heartbeat thundering against mine, a mirror of my own escalating pulse.
My head hits the pillow as he sets me down gently, our bodies and lips still fused. I work at the buttons of his shirt, craving the warmth of his skin against mine. The fabric parts beneath my touch, revealing the taut muscles that ripple on his torso. His hands are on me now, skimming over my sides, each brush of his fingertips like a match struck against my skin, igniting a fire within me I had long forgotten could burn so fiercely. He reaches for my dress, and my breath catches in my throat as the red fabric and black bra falls away, leaving me vulnerable under his heated gaze. With trembling hands, I help him shed the rest of his clothes, each piece discarded like layers of ourselves peeling away.
I lie back on my elbows, allowing him to slide off my panties—the last piece of fabric separating us. There’s a pang of self-awareness as I think about how much my body has changed since I got pregnant with Henry. Stretch marks map across my lower belly like silver rivers, my breasts are fuller now, no longer pert like they once were.
But when I catch Killian’s eyes, darken with desire, and his cock standing at full attention, hard and throbbing, any lingering uncertainty evaporates. His hungry gaze roams over every inch of me—the stretch marks, the fullness of my breasts, every scar and imperfection—as if they’re elements in an exquisite artwork he can’t wait to explore further. He wants me. All of me—the woman who carried a child within her womb—every curve, every scar, every part of me life has shaped.
My nipples are hard peeks under his gaze, begging for the warmth of his touch. His mouth. His tongue.
Standing at the edge of the bed, he lifts my foot and unbuckles the straps of my shoes one by one, his ocean blues not even focused on his task but roving up my naked curves instead, my center spread and bare to him, glistening with a hunger I haven’t felt in years.
Once my shoes are gone, he climbs onto the bed and settles between my thighs with a devilish glint, hiking my legs over his shoulders. He leans in, leaving soft kisses over my thighs and nub leaving me shivering in anticipation, my breath catching. He traces my slick folds with his lips, his breaths warm over my flushed skin, my heart like a jackhammer. Our eyes are locked in a steely gaze, but once he parts my thighs further apart, his grip bruising my skin in the most delicious way, and he slides his tongue through my slit, all bets are off. My elbows collapse underneath me, and my eyes are rolling to the back of my head, his tongue exploring with slow deliberate strokes, eliciting gasps and moans that echo through the quiet room.
For some reason, I’d thought he might be overeager, given his age, and not used to giving pleasure as much as receiving it, and maybe that was just my previous experiences. But, boy, was I wrong. Because, there’s reverence in each stroke and nibble, his mouth worshiping me, coaxing me closer to the brink with each flick of his tongue over my aching clit, delving into my depths as if he could find every secret I’ve ever kept hidden there.
“Killian!” I can’t help but cry out, the words ripped from my throat as electrifying heat consumes me. A shuddering “Yesss!” escapes, my thighs clamping around his head like a vice, involuntary while my hands become entangled in the dark tresses of his hair.
Even as waves of ecstasy begin to ebb, he continues his ministrations, languid licks that draw out the lingering tremors of my orgasm. His tongue moves with an unhurried grace, a contrast to the rapid beating of my heart.
Heat lingers on my skin, a delicious aftershock that trembles through me.
His lips start a blazing hot path from the apex of my thighs to my stomach, his mouth a brand, searing his claim on me. Every kiss imprinted on my skin burns brighter than the last, leaving no part of me untouched or undiscovered. His lips trace delicate patterns across my abdomen, pausing to dip into my navel before continuing their ascent.
The curve of each rib becomes a stepping stone as he climbs closer to my breasts, where he lingers, lavishing each contour and peak with his tongue. His kisses are equally soft and demanding around the areolas before he draws my nipples into his hot mouth, pleasure jolting through me.
By the time he reaches my lips, I’m a panting, trembling mess underneath him, our bare skin meeting, the contact sparking a fire that threatens to consume us both.
“God, everything about you is perfect,” he breathes, his voice completely wrecked. His words are exactly what a forty-year-old woman wants to hear about her naked body, but I know it’s not empty flattery. It’s the truth etched in the lines of his face, in the fire in his eyes, the way he holds my gaze when he says it. 
His erection presses against my thigh, hard and insistent, ready to claim me.
And God, do I want him to claim me. Every inch.
“Should I wear a condom?” 
Right. A condom—something I hadn’t even thought about. God, it’s been too long, I feel like a virgin all over again. 
“Do you have anything I should be aware of?” I counter, my voice surprisingly steady.
He shakes his head, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, and you? Have you been with anyone since Neal?”
“No, I haven’t. I’m on the pill.” I glide my hand between us, wrapping my fingers around his stiff shaft, stroking softly, his smooth, velvety length easily sliding through my fist. “And I want to feel you inside me.”
He groans as he kisses me sweetly on the lips, a grin spreading across his face. “I want to feel you, too.”
With that settled, I place him at my entrance, and the connection sends sparks flying through me. After thirteen years of Neal and three years of nothing, Killian feels incredible inside me. No, incredible is a colossal understatement. And he’s not even fully inside me yet.
Our breaths, heavy and ragged, mingle as he eases into me, claiming territory with slow, tender strokes that belie his strength. My legs are wrapped around his back, my hands resting on his shoulder blades as I arch into him, every nerve-ending alight with fire.
He responds in kind, his hips a perfect counterpoint to mine, as if we’re two parts of a whole finally clicking into place. “Swan,” he whispers against my lips, and I shiver at the sound of my name wrapped in his accent, heavy with lust. “Bloody hell…you feel so damn good.” He captures my lips before I can respond, his tongue moving against mine with the rhythm of his hips, and I can taste myself on his tongue, which I’ve never had the pleasure of doing before. Neal always used mouthwash afterward before kissing me.
I lose myself in the sensations—the heat of his body, the weight of him, the taste of his kiss, the sound of our unified gasps filling the room. His size, the smoothness of his back, the firmness of his ass as I take both perfect globes in my hands, pulling him in deeper. It’s a heady combination, intoxicating, dizzying, and I drink it all in greedily.
“Killian...” His name spills from my lips as he draws me closer to the edge. There’s no holding back, no fear or doubt, only the boundless expanse of sensation he alone can evoke. My body gives in to the overwhelming tide of pleasure that threatens to sweep me under, my fingernails clawing into his back.
Heat coils inside me, raw and all-consuming as Killian’s body drives into mine with a primal rhythm, his voice, rough like gravel, cutting through the haze of pleasure. “Let go, Emma.”
And I do. I let go, surrendering to the waves as they crash over me, and I happily drown in the bliss of it, my walls fluttering around his beautiful dick that has me coming undone.
He follows close behind, thrusting harder and faster, the crescendo building as he chases his impending release. His hips falter, movements growing erratic, his body shuddering. He dips his head, teeth grazing my skin, breath hot against my neck. His grip tightens around me, hands like steel bands, and I’m certain there will be marks—temporary souvenirs—imprinted on my skin I’ll probably admire in the mirror later.
“Emma…” My name is pure heaven as it tumbles from his lips, wrapped in a thick, broken accent as he pours his warmth inside me.
Pure heaven.
We reposition ourselves so he’s on his back and I’m beside him, boneless, draping an arm around his torso. My breath steadies, our bodies a tangle of limbs, the echo of his touch, his kiss, on every inch of my skin, his chest a relentless drumbeat against my ear. The sheets are twisted around our legs, our fingers are laced together as he presses a tender kiss against my forehead.
“Emma…you’re incredible.” His words vibrate against my skin, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my back.
I look up at him, my gaze meeting those deep blue eyes that seem to hold galaxies within them. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
He smiles, his thumb brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead. “Your beauty,” he whispers huskily, “it’s not just in the way you look, Swan. It’s everything about you. It’s the very essence of you.” His touch is reverent, as though each word he utters is etched into my skin.
A warmth blooms in my chest at his words, at the admiration that laces each syllable. It’s as if every wall I’ve ever built has not only been scaled but completely dismantled by the tenderness of his gaze. He sees me, truly sees me—not just the polished exterior, but the tangled, knotted threads of my soul.
A teasing smile pulls at my lips. “Do you say that to all the women you’re with?”
He chuckles, his body shaking with the deep, hearty sound. “I would only say it if I meant it…so no, I don’t.”
I trace the line of his jaw with my fingertips, taking in the jagged edge of his stubble, the warmth of his skin. His eyes lock with mine, a stormy blue that speaks volumes without a single word. My heart swells, full to bursting with an emotion I can neither name nor contain.
“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Or forever.”
I laugh. “I’ll stay tonight…but I’ll have to go back early tomorrow. Henry will be back home around noon.”
He nods, despite the disappointment flashing in his eyes. “Of course, love.”
Lying here naked, pressed against him, I allow myself to bask in the afterglow, the rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me into a state of serene bliss.
I don’t remember sex being so damn good before.
It’s never been that good.
Then it hits me. He’s the first, the only one who’s ever made me orgasm from sex alone. Sure, I’ve had orgasms but only from stimulation—a tongue, a finger or (mostly) a battery-operated friend. Never from penetration. I didn’t even think it was possible for me. And I’ve certainly never experienced multiple orgasms before tonight.
I always assumed I was the problem. That I was broken somehow.
But here I am, lying in Killian’s arms, fulfilled and sated in a way I never thought possible. It’s like he’s unlocked some secret part of me no one else could access before.
And maybe my history of being unsatisfied in bed is the reason I waited so long to be with someone else after Neal left.
Then again, if I had known it could be this good, I wouldn’t have waited.
But maybe it was Killian I was waiting for all along.
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