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darkcolinodonorgasm · 5 years ago

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One Day (5/7)

Summary: By day, Emma is the beautiful swan gliding over the waters of Misthaven’s pond, but when night falls, the voice of the wolf the people living in the little town hear is Killian’s cry. The curse was meant to be forever, to keep them always together yet eternally apart. No force in Heaven would be able to break such spell, nor any force on Earth. Or so Emma and Killian thought.

A/N: I’m so SO happy to finally share this chapter of my @cssns fic with you, which includes one of the two (now three) scenes I’ve been dying to write when I first came up with this fic. I am just thrilled. It really makes me want to sit back and eat pop corn as I wait for your reactions hehe

The chapter is also a gift of sorts to @carpedzem because she deserves all the happiness in the world and freedom from the tyranny of exams ;)

Many may thanks to @profdanglaisstuff for her beta skills - prepositions are the worst, guys, but she’s my savior - and @sherlockianwhovian for the wonderful art ♥

A special thanks to the ladies in the CSSNS and CSMM discord chats for their support and their help with the blobfish problem.

And now, enjoy :3

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (ao3)

Chapter 5

Killian Jones had never been a man to ask for more than what life gave him.

Granted, he knew he was a lucky bastard. Despite the absence of a father figure—shoes that Liam filled perfectly and perhaps one time too many—he’d still had a family growing up, one that compensated with love what it might lack in prosperity when money was tight and he had to wear second-hand clothes.

Finding out about Storybrooke and moving to the little town across the pond had been another stroke of luck, allowing all his family to finally settle in peace without having to be careful around people. Moving to Storybrooke meant no more looking over his shoulder whenever a cloud of vermillion smoke appeared and conjured an object in the palm of his hand that wasn’t there before.

Storybrooke meant happiness.

Until he met Emma.

Afterwards, Emma meant happiness.

Even after years of being together, Killian couldn’t ask for a better partner, for a better soulmate. In these two years as a wolf, he had learned what the saying “they mate for life” meant. His wolf - Fenrir, as she loved to call him - always threatened to take over, and sometimes it did. Fortunately, it had never attacked a human being, but it didn’t make Killian fear the wolf less. The half-life he led allowed him to keep himself sane, to not fall prey of the wolf’s most animalistic needs, but even in canine form, Killian knew he had to protect Emma, that it was his duty to stay by her side and watch over her. Rationally, he knew his wife could be her own savior, but there would always be a part of him, human or animal, that would fight tooth and nail to keep her safe.

The wolf didn’t know Henry, but Killian was sure it would recognize him. The curse was diabolical and he would’ve probably lost himself had he not had a purpose: his love for his family had been his North star through hell, and now he had the chance to put an end to it, once and for all.

The sun would set soon, he could feel the tendrils of the curse wrap around his bones, ready to break and rearrange them. His skin prickled, and he fought the impulse to scratch his arm.

Standing next to him, Henry was looking at the lake in front of them. Emma had decided to stay beside their son and not to take a swim. Killian wasn’t sure it would work, but he had to try.

It was Henry who broke the silence. «Why are we here?» he asked slowly, hazel eyes stealing a glance at his father’s profile.

Killian released a sigh through his teeth, the hand that wasn’t placed on his son’s shoulder clenching into a fist. «If we want to defeat Regina, we will need a suitable weapon.» It was so strange for him to talk about it, to explain who he was to his own son. Part of him worried that Henry would resent him for not telling him the truth sooner. He drew in a deep breath, turning to face Henry.

«When I was eleven, before I came here, your Grandmother brought Liam and me to visit the castle of Tintagel, our last family trip in England before crossing the pond.»

Henry furrowed his eyebrows, his nose scrunching up slightly like Emma’s. Killian felt a twinge in his chest. «Isn’t that the place historians believe to be King Arthur’s castle?»

My boy, so bright for his age, Killian thought with a sudden surge of pride. «Aye,» he replied, incapable of stopping himself from ruffling the boy’s hair. Then, he sighed. «We were having lunch near what they call Merlin’s cave, a wonderful place which opens on the sea. Mum had prepared sandwiches for our little trip, but Liam and I couldn’t stay put, continuously pranking each other.» He stopped again, scratching at his jaw, wondering how to explain what had happened next. «At some point, I ended up falling in the water, knees scraped and slightly bleeding. It was then that-»

Killian swallowed, shaking his head. No, although his son did believe in magic, there was only so much that he could accept. Taking another deep breath, Killian knew what the had to do.

«It’s best if I show you.» Hoping that it will work again.

From the inner pocket of his leather jacket, he pulled out a switchblade and walked to the shore of the small lake. Henry followed suit, curious as ever, and so did Emma.

The slight discomfort of the blade slicing his palm open made him shiver, a passing pain that helped amplify the tension he was feeling. He extended his arm out, tightening his fist to let a few droplets of blood fall into the dark waters below.

At first, nothing happened, the water stopped rippling the moment it swallowed the last drop and stayed still. Then, an inexplicable feeling washed over Killian, something akin to anticipation. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms rose.

A pale mist lazily approached them, sliding above the water without disturbing it. To Killian, it appeared as if he’d gone back in time, calves deep in the chilly water and his mother’s terrified cries piercing the air. Next to him, it had been his brother to clamp a hand over his shoulder, ready to shield him from any evil, and not his son tightening his fingers around the buttery leather of his jacket.

His lungs filled with cold air once more, and all around him everything quieted down: no bird sang, and the distant laughter of children faded, leaving an eerie silence upon them.

When he swept his eyes over the horizon, Killian couldn’t help but squint, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he studied the shadow behind the mist. The unmistakable shape of a tiny island seemed to have come out of nowhere. It must be just an illusion, he told himself, knowing that island couldn’t be actually there. But if I could call her here, perhaps it appears wherever she’s needed.

Although he wished he could keep wondering and making theories about her magic, Killian’s attention was averted from the island to the lake.

Tall, proud auger shells were the first thing they saw emerging from the water, and Killian couldn’t help but look down at Henry to gauge his reaction.

Pure wonder shone in the kid’s eyes, so impossibly wide, much like his mouth, hanging open as he witnessed something he never thought he would see.

The shells crowned a waterfall of ebony hair with shiny pearls intertwined in the silky strands, but what was most beautiful was not the white gown that spoke of ages past, or her delicate and innocent face, with eyes as green as seaweed and a smile that could bring any man to his knees.

No, the most beautiful thing was the sword fluctuating over her open palms.

It emanated a bright light, but Killian could still make out its form, though it was probably a trick of his own mind; he had, after all, spent many hours cataloguing its every curve and engraving and searching the meaning behind the decorations on the hilt.

«Killian Jones. It’s been a long time.»

The woman spoke with the voice of an angel, surreal and enchanting. She glided over the water without disturbing it, her dry figure finally reaching the shore. There, she stopped, eyes falling on Henry and then on Emma, features shifting.

Her expression startled Killian: she was heartbroken.

Sad eyes lifted to meet his. «You are enduring a harsh curse, my King, fated to live a half life and separated from those you love.» She tilted her head, not accusatory, just confused. «Why haven’t you called upon him, I wonder?»

A muscle pulsed in Killian’s jaw. He should have known the question would come. «I wished not to speak with him, for he would give me no answer to my questions, nor a solution for this curse. Both of you speak in riddles, my Lady, and this is no such time for those.»

As if chastised, the woman bent her head, but a small smile played on her lips. «I see,» she commented, reassuming her position. «I was surprised when Excalibur reappeared, I worried something had happened to your family. And yet, I knew you were not dead, nor was your heir.»

«This curse,» Killian began, waving his hand around, the blood now dry and uncomfortably coating his palm, «swept my home away, and all it contained with it. I assumed the sword wouldn’t just disappear, but I did not realize it could be so easily retrieved until-»

«Until the man you have loathed your whole life suggested you look here?»

Killian cursed the voice and the man it belonged to. Of bloody course, he thought, spinning around to see a hooded figure walking past the line of trees. It reminded him of the first time they met, only they were miles and miles away from the illuminated cave.

«Merlin,» Killian gritted through his teeth.

«Merlin?» Henry squeaked, looking up at his father. «That Merlin?»

A low, warm chuckle came from beneath the hood as hands came up to pull it back and reveal the infamous sorcerer.

After all those years, the man hadn’t changed at all, both in appearance and methods. He still seemed to be in his early thirties at most, and yet had the ability to appear ageless, with a tawny complexion and short, black hair, not at all what Killian had expected Merlin to look like, anticipating an old man with a long beard and a pointy hat instead. On his face was the usual, enigmatic smile that still riled Killian up.

«Aye, lad, that Merlin,» the sorcerer replied, walking over to them. His deep brown eyes seemed to smile as well as he talked to Henry, whose mouth was still hanging open in shock.

Licking his lips, Killian glared at the newcomer. True, Merlin had asked him not to blame Gold, and true, there was nothing to blame, not really. Besides, Killian knew when to admit he was wrong--treating Gold like he was the enemy hadn’t prevented Regina from casting the curse and damning them all.

«Cool,» Henry breathed, eyes shining with wonder, before looking up at his father. «So you are a descendant of King Arthur?»

Before Killian could answer, Merlin spoke. «It’s slightly more complicated than that, I fear. When he died, Arthur didn’t have an heir to whom he would pass his legacy on. I prophesied Arthur would come back when his kingdom needed him the most. The ability to see the future is tricky, and rarely gives a clear answer.»

Killian couldn’t help but chortle at those words, blatantly ignoring Merlin’s glare.

«I had my theories about how said prophecy would be fulfilled, and one of them involved reincarnation. Now, your father is his own person, of course, it’s not as if Arthur is trapped inside of him, dormant, nothing like that. Their souls, however, are intertwined.»

Henry was as confused as Killian had been the first and only time he talked with Merlin. Although Killian did know more about magic than he had when he was eleven, not even he could wrap his head around the concept of reincarnation and his soul being tied to the King of Camelot, the once and future King. Monarchy is not quite dead, but nobody would ever call me “King”, nor do I want them to.

«My King,» a gentle voice called out to get his attention.

Killian couldn’t help but blush at that, forcing himself not to look at Emma who, he imagined, was surely interested in what was happening as much as their son.

«Aye, my Lady?»

The Lady of the Lake, who had introduced herself as Nimue the first time they met, gave him a contrite smile. «I fear my magic won’t last for much longer. We must make haste.»

«Nimue is right, Killian. I can feel myself weakening with every second,» Merlin added, an apologetic expression etching his features.

«Why can’t you stay and help us?» Henry asked, almost pleading. To have someone as powerful as Merlin on their side would smooth their way to success.

The sorcerer gave him a pained, sorrowful smile. «The curse prevents Avalon from fully manifesting itself. Nimue and I are both just a realistic illusion. Only Excalibur is immune to the dark magic at work here, and thus it can be returned to its true master.»

Killian nodded, turning to the Lady. A shiver ran down his spine when he realized he could see through her, now, the shape of Avalon almost fading as well.

Nimue smiled kindly, like a proud mother. «I return Excalibur to you, my King. May it serve you well against the darkness.»

Feeling his heart thundering in his chest, Killian stepped forward. The moment his fingers wrapped around the grip, he felt as though a surge of magic had shot right through him, lighting up his blood and awakening something buried deep within his soul. Just like the first time.

Solemnly, Killian drew the sword in front of him, letting it stand tall with the setting sun catching the edge of the blade. Unlike when he first wielded it, Killian felt something else awakening inside of him, the knowledge that he now had a purpose and that he wouldn’t have peace until it was fulfilled.

When he lowered the sword, Killian bent his head. «Thank you, my Lady,» he said solemnly, only to watch her disappear into thin air soon after with one last, encouraging smile on her face.

A slight pressure on his shoulder made him lift his eyes to meet Merlin’s, his form slightly less transparent than Nimue’s but fading still. «I trust you won’t use the sword unless you have no other choice. Remember, even the smallest cut can condemn someone to death.»

A nick is all I need, Killian thought to himself, nodding. He glanced furtively at Henry, who was listening to the conversation as well. «Excalibur will serve its purpose, Merlin. I will be careful.»

The only reason why Killian had not thought about a gun or his own magic was because he had no clue whether Regina had somehow found an enchantment to shield herself. If he shot her, she would stop the bullet mid-air; if he cast a spell, she could counterattack. Excalibur, however, was immune to any kind of magic.

It was a good thing that he’d kept his true nature hidden all these years, otherwise who knew what Regina might have done. Thankfully, she wouldn’t be able to wield the sword, for it turned to dust when touched by anyone who wasn’t worthy.

This would make things easier, though.

Merlin studied Killian’s face, reluctantly accepting his words. «I bid you farewell, then, Killian. Master Henry. Lady Emma.»

Killian watched mutely as the wizard disappeared and the air suddenly became lighter. In the distance, birds began to sing again.

«So,» Henry started, slowly, «you are a king. And you have a magic sword.»

Killian scratched behind his ear, looking at Emma as if she could help him. There was a look in her eyes that said “you’re on your own, buddy”, and he knew her well enough to be sure that she would be looking at them with her arms crossed over her chest and a raised eyebrow. What would he have given to see her standing just like that.

At last, Killian returned his attention to Henry. «Aye. It’s… difficult to accept, I know, and I will understand if you aren’t able to-»

«Dad,» Henry cut him off, frowning, «how could I not accept something so cool?»

Killian almost choked on his breath. «Cool?»

Henry nodded. «Cool.» He shrugged. «It doesn’t change who you are, Dad, you are and always will be my hero, as is Mom. You being a king doesn’t change anything to my eyes. You are my Dad. You could turn into a blobfish every time you touched water and I wouldn’t love you any less.»

For the fraction of a moment, Killian saw Henry’s words become true in front of his eyes. It took all he had not to shudder and focus on his son’s words instead, love spreading through him like a tidal wave that touched every inch of his body. He wrapped his free arm around Henry’s shoulder, drawing him to his chest and hugging him tightly. With a deep sigh, Killian bent his head and kissed the top of Henry’s hair, eyes closing in bliss.

Henry’s thin arms wrapped around his torso and hugged him just as tightly. Killian didn’t actually care whether he could breathe or not.

Soon, too soon, Killian felt the call of the moon, the curse reaching out to him again. They needed to get away from there soon.

With another kiss on Henry’s forehead, Killian said: «Come, we need to go back to the pawnshop. The sun is about to set and we there’s so much to do.»

Henry’s eyes widened, knowing all too well that he had to get back to the house soon, or Regina would send a search party. This breaks the routine, he thought restlessly, tightening his grip on his father.

«Is it time already?» he whispered with a small voice.

Killian sighed, sensing his son’s fear. «After so many sunsets?» he murmured almost to himself. He would’ve fought with all his being to keep Henry by his side, and would’ve sacrificed the chance of sharing a complete life with Emma if it meant keeping their son away from Regina tonight, but he also knew Henry, and he would’ve not let them lose the only chance they had of finally being reunited.

Slowly, Killian started towards the trees, Henry beneath his arm. He glanced at the swan on the other side of their son. «Did you hear, love? I’m cool.»

The sound Emma made, something that could probably be classified as a scoff, had her two boys succumbing to a fit of laughter.

-/-

The pawnshop was closed to the public, but not to the three figures moving in the shadows created by the setting sun.

They entered through the back door Mr. Gold had left open for them; they arrived to find the wizard bent over several open tomes scattered over the table. When he looked up and saw Henry, his expression softened and a smile curved his lips.

«I see you kept alive the family motto,» he observed, using irony to conceal his relief and glee. His eyes fell on the sword in Killian’s hand. «Ah, you’ve found what you were looking for.»

Killian’s eyes narrowed, noticing the light in Mr. Gold’s eyes. He knew he had nothing to fear, Excalibur had its own self-defense mechanism and he was sure the wizard wouldn’t be immune to that, as powerful as he was. Yet, the thought of someone else wielding that sword just felt�� wrong.

Safely in Henry’s arms, Emma started to grow restless. Killian looked at her, sensing the curse start to claim him.

As if reading their thoughts, Gold announced: «I took the liberty of preparing a room upstairs. It’s not been used in a while, but it’s safe.» He gestured to a tiny door on the other side of the room.

Killian’s jaw clenched, but not because of the thoughtfulness of the wizard: he didn’t want to shift and lose time with Henry, not now that they’d finally found one another. However, he couldn’t let his son see the transformation, he couldn’t be the cause of more heartbreak.

Slowly, Killian knelt in front of Henry, looking up at those wide hazel eyes that had already seen too much for their young age. «I need to steal your mother away for a few moments, lad. I wish I didn’t have to say goodbye to you this way, that I could stay, but soon the sun will set and I-» He cut himself off, shaking his head to put an order to his thoughts. «I will understand if you don’t want to see me as a wolf, after-»

«Dad,» it was Henry’s turn to cut him off, «do you remember what I said about the blobfish thing? It goes for wolves as well. And, wolves are cooler than blobfishes.»

Killian couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He stood, kissing the top of Henry’s head as he effortlessly gathered the swan in one arm. «Come, then, love.»

The swan protested, almost snapped her beak at Killian, who arched an eyebrow.

«Come on, Mom, go. I will wait here,» Henry reassured her, smoothing the feathers on the neck still wrapped around her boy’s shoulders.

Reluctantly, she let go, neck twisting to circle Killian’s as if trying to make up for the warmth she just lost.

Bending forward to wrap his other arm around Henry, carefully maneuvering Excalibur around, Killian placed another kiss on top of Henry’s head and hugged him tight. «Take care of our Lady Swan, tell her I love her,» he murmured in his ear, almost choking on the words. «You two are my life, my last and best reason for living.»

Henry’s arms seemed to want to bruise Killian’s ribs, but he didn’t care.

Killian conceded himself another minute before stepping away. He turned to Gold, who had gone back to his books, giving them as much privacy as he could. «Thank you,» he said, not bothered in the slightest. It was true, he was thankful, and now, he understood Merlin’s words better. Besides, as much as he might not like it, the man was in love with Belle and had changed. Perhaps they would never be friends, but he might not mind having the wizard around.

Gold raised his head and nodded, thus burying the hatchet. «The lad and I will prepare hot chocolate for Mrs. Jones.» He looked at the grandfather clock, then at Henry. «I’m afraid the time at your disposal is running out.»

It was almost six in the evening, and though the curse might have changed some aspects of most people’s routine, Henry didn’t want to push his luck. Having to spend another night in that dreadful house wouldn’t be as bad now that he knew his torture would end tomorrow.

With another tight, heartfelt hug, Killian forced himself to leave his son downstairs, along with his heart.

The apartment above the shop was tiny, suspended in time, just like the rest of the town. It opened over a kitchen and a living room, with a corridor on the opposite side, one door on the left and one on the right.

As he peered inside the door on the left, he was pleasantly surprised to see the sack with his belongings on the bed, along with an old-looking sheath. His eyebrows shot upwards. Can’t say the man doesn’t think of everything.

After sheathing Excalibur, Killian placed the sword next to the bed, a bed Emma had made herself comfortable on. He knew she was tired, he was as well, but the knowledge that she could soon hug their son was enough to keep her awake.

Begrudgingly, Killian began undressing, not wanting to tear those clothes apart, too.

The bedroom faced west, ironically enough, the last rays of sun casting a golden orange light that made everything appear ethereal. Even Emma’s swan form seemed to glow. Had it not been so heartbreaking, Killian would’ve been fascinated.

It was not often that they changed like this, trying to catch a glimpse of each other in that fraction of a second the sun needed to completely fall behind the horizon. After the first few times, the cognizance that they couldn’t touch or talk to one another made it even more heartbreaking, crushing all hope they had left.

If he closed his eyes, Killian could see her naked form, spun gold hair curling over the creamy skin of her back, a goddess before his eyes. He fought back tears, sitting cross-legged on the side of the bed, one arm outstretched to caress her neck, imagining that there he would roll a strand of her golden hair between thumb and forefinger, wondering why that goddess had chosen him.

Painfully, Killian forced himself to open his eyes. He felt the curse grip him so tightly his bones almost snapped in a half.

Not yet, he pleaded, but even if they wept for the star-crossed lovers, neither the sun or all the stars in the sky could stall long enough to let them steal a moment of happiness.

«I love you,» he murmured, wishing he could shift in a way that allowed him to still touch her.

Without thinking twice, Killian used the last of his human will to lie on the bed next to Emma, knowing that Fenrir would never hurt her.

Fighting the light, he kept his eyes trained on her, gritting his teeth against the pain.

Emma’s eyes shone with heartbreak. She was this close to placing her head over his chest when she felt the same pain snapping her bones and elongating them.

Neither could define how shifting worked, though she was pretty sure it was almost the same thing Ruby went through every full moon - at least for Killian. Emma, on the other hand, had nothing to compare that sensation to, but after years, she’d learned to live with it.

Will I miss it, somehow?, she found herself wondering, another sign that her body was about to become hers once more.

The return of conscious thought was even more proof that the change was near, so near she could taste the magic on her tongue, even.

She stared right into Killian’s eyes, not wanting to miss any single moment, this time, the last sunset they’d have to spend apart.

Her heart started to beat faster in her chest, and suddenly, her small body elongated, feathers turned into skin and the world she’d lived in since dawn tilted on its axis, and she felt more like herself, more human.

Or maybe, just human.

She opened her eyes, which had fallen shut in the midst of the change. Her vision wasn’t entirely right, not what she was used to in her human form, but she could see him, she could see how blue were his eyes, how long lashes framed them and the memory of them fluttering against her cheek when they kissed washed over her.

A sob caught in her throat, as she lifted a very much human hand towards him, wanting, yearning to touch him but scared to do so. She felt tears filling her eyes. He was so beautiful, with the rays of the sun highlighting those tiny specks of gold in his irises.

The light filtered between her fingers, creating a distorted shadow over his jaw, as if she was caressing him. She didn’t dare speak, marvelling that she was finally conscious enough to treasure that moment. Was it the curse on the town that, somehow, allowed them a bit of respite and peace, even just for a long, endless second, more than what they ever had?

And then, as soon as Emma felt a spark of relief blooming in her heart, the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, and Killian changed into the most beautiful wolf she’d ever seen.

The hand she’d lifted in front of her fell almost lifeless on the luscious, soft pelt, nothing like the skin she now barely remembered.

The tears she’d pushed back broke the dam of her self-control, and Emma could only bury her face in the wolf’s neck and cry, because yes, it all would be over soon, but it didn’t mean the separation hurt less.

-/-

There was no need for a leather jacket inside the shop, but Emma wouldn’t be separated from it, just like she couldn’t be separated from her son.

They were sitting next to each other, her arm wrapped around his tiny shoulders and her lips always finding their way to his forehead. On the other side of Henry, sat the wolf, his head on the boy’s lap. As he’d declared earlier, Henry wasn’t scared of Fenrir; in fact, he was quite taken with him, scratching behind his ears like he would any dog.

Perhaps we should get one, Emma thought quietly to herself, remembering their life before the curse, when she and Killian were debating dogs. They had also talked about having another kid, but…

Emma banished the thought, it was not the time to think about that. They would have time, after.

The plan Gold had come up with was solid, tricky, yes, but Killian would be distraction enough to allow the wizard to conjure the magic. Even if magic came and the eclipse didn’t happen immediately, Regina had not spent the last two years learning new spells and tricks. They had to confide that her abilities were rusty and that she would have the same difficulties she always had.

Her other hand lifted the mug of hot chocolate that was slowly getting cold. After one sip, she leaned her cheek on Henry’s hair, breathing in his scent, glaring at the grandfather clock ticking time away. Every tick-tock meant another second lost, her time with her son running out. It was unfair that Killian had had more time with him, but there was no one else to blame but Regina. Emma could never resent her husband for that, especially not after all this time.

«It’s about time you head back, Henry,» Gold murmured, limping into the room. He’d given them time to be alone with each other, no talk of what tomorrow would bring.

Emma felt like growling, but she was beaten to it by Killian, his growl low and menacing. But Henry only sighed in defeat, dropping his head.

If it were up to her, Emma wouldn’t have let him go back to Regina’s house. How could she, as a mother, allow that? True, Henry would do it without a second thought, but Emma was having a hard time accepting it. She wanted to keep him in her arms and never let go.

«Mom,» Henry murmured, squeezing her in a side hug. God, how she’d missed him calling her that, Mom. She almost started to cry again. «I have to go. I will be fine. Now that I know that you two are here, there’s nothing I fear.»

She couldn’t contain the sob that erupted from her throat, and she hugged him even tighter. My boy, my wonderful, brave boy. She wasn’t surprised by the young man he’d grown up to be, bearing the knowledge of being all alone in the town he was raised in, but it was painful that she had not been there for him in the time of need.

But she was here now, and she wouldn’t let the fear of losing her son again keep her from doing her duty. It would be painful, much more than being in Misthaven and knowing that he was here, but she would resist, and hold on to the promise that, tomorrow, everything would be over, that her family would be whole once again.

Just one more day.

#cs fanfic #captain swan #cs fic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #cs au #emma swan #killian jones #captain hook #my fic #one day #cssns #cssns 19 #cssns2k19

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snowbellewells · 6 years ago

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A Story Told at Last {prologue}

{And here we have my second entry for the CSSNS 2019 event! This is much more AU than I usually attempt, but it has been a fun challenge. An adult version of Henry is really the main character through whose eyes we are seeing the story, though alternate versions of Emma and Killian very much become the heart and focus of the story as it develops… I hope you will enjoy this bit of a taster prologue today, then longer parts one and two should follow in just a few days. Thanks in advance for reading this and giving it a try! I’d love to hear what you think.}

{ ***A million thank yous and loads of praise to @branlovestowrite for the beautiful fic banner she made. I really adore the color scheme, the background, and the pictures she chose. It looks so pretty that I can’t help but think it will draw a few more eyes to my little story, and I am incredibly grateful!!*** }

{ **Another round of praises to @whimsicallyenchantedrose for her help as a beta reader. I did not give her the full story to work with, and she probably had to piece it together to give me the helpful insights she did, but I appreciated her advice and suggestions all the same!** }

The young man moved quietly through dusky shadows in the long-abandoned building, brushing aside cobwebs with a grimace of distaste, his flashlight trained well in front of him, and walking with slow care, trying valiantly not to disturb anything more than necessary in his path. Henry Mills was still holding his breath more than a bit in awe that he had finally been allowed the permits and permissions, not to speak of the grant money which had brought him here and allowed him to focus solely on his research, and that he was standing within the deserted tower ruins of a long vanished kingdom’s outer borders. He had dreamed of seeing this structure’s remains since the legend had first crossed his desk, unfounded but also unforgettable until he explored it for himself. Drawing in another steadying breath and squaring his shoulders, Henry moved forward once again, anxious to see all that he could before he lost the last bit of evening sun.

He would be back tomorrow of course, with his team and full daylight, and all the equipment needed to properly identify, catalogue, and preserve anything of historical value or interest they might find. Still, he couldn’t resist the chance to get a first look at this place that had held his curiosity for so long, especially when he only had to share it with frogs, cicadas, and the droning gnats. Soon enough this site would be buzzing with other historians, researchers, and anyone else on the approved team, and Henry yearned for a moment on hallowed ground, beneath the crumbling walls and mouldering ceiling, in the dreamy half-dark when it could be his alone. He didn’t know what treasures they might find, or if they would unearth anything new at all, but the storyteller’s heart that beat beneath his grey henley and respectable historian’s facade couldn’t help sensing that the very walls around him were holding their breath as much as he was, anxiously awaiting the right explorer to at last reveal their secrets.

Regardless of the venture’s outcome, Henry still found it hard to believe he was in Italy; seeing the world, traveling on his own quest for knowledge and adventure, just as he had always known he was meant to do. He was still considered quite young for a history professor, and this would be the first field mission he had led. Granted, to most folks who weren’t history buffs or fans of Renaissance literature and its roots, the remains of the stone structure around him that they would catalogue and examine in the next week would not have been delighted enough to go without sleep just dreaming of the treasures and tales they might find, but Henry Mills had never been one to do as most others would.

The particular result he hoped to achieve was to find some sign or proof of the princess Emmaline, the protagonist of that tale which had sparked his interest nearly four years ago. History had at least partially buried her existence, or much knowledge of her beyond the ranks of myth and legend. But, if what Henry had learned was true, she had once been imprisoned by the same walls he was standing within. A younger sibling had ascended the throne in her place, and Emmaline had disappeared from all records of the kingdom which had eventually become extinct itself.

The story Henry had uncovered told of strange happenings beginning to occur around the beautiful golden daughter of King David and Queen Margaret of Misthavia once the young princess reached her sixteenth year. Injuries to those who might have slighted her, accidents and damages - coincidences all, but their frequency had reached the point that her involvement could no longer be hidden, and her people had begun to fear her. It seemed that Princess Emmaline had even been deemed a witch by some, and at last the king and queen had been forced to hide their daughter away for her own safety.

There had also been - at least as related in several varied sources - a handsome young lieutenant in the Misthavian royal navy who had long been in love with the hidden princess. This young sailor had vehemently protested the decision to lock Emmaline away, much less the eventual denial of her birthright. So the story had gone, this lieutenant had eventually left the king and queen’s service due to the rift, and as incongruous as it sounded, turned pirate in her honor, as he left with a ship to seek her in exile and rescue his love.

Still, by any account Henry had been able to locate, whatever had truly happened, if Princess Emmaline had existed at all, she had never taken the throne of her kingdom. The rather tiny Misthavia, along the Tyrrhenian Sea had been subsumed into rest of the larger country and ceased to be a separate entity in the modern world. To his scholarly, and curious, mind however, what became of the lost princess, hidden in her tower, remained an irresistible mystery.

For the moment he was not willing to risk discovery and be banned from the site before his official work even began, so Henry did not linger. He closed his eyes, breathing in the somewhat musty air that somehow, to his mind, also brought hints of spring rain, apple blossoms, weathered wooden planks, leather and sea salt. Shaking his head at his own ridiculously detailed imagination - now bringing him scents even, as well as hoped for sights and stories - Henry turned to carefully make his way back out of the rocky rumble, avoiding an overturned settee frame with bits of ripped upholstery clinging to it and a few floorboards, whose soundness appeared debatable. Watching where he was placing his feet and the path back to the entrance in the beam of his flashlight, he failed to notice that materializing behind him, wispy white and hazy against the deepening gloom within the old walls, two shadows, almost corporeal but not quite, were silently watching him go…

~***~

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @branlovestowrite @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @spartanguard@therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @scientificapricot @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @ilovemesomekillianjones @effulgentcolors

#cssns 19 #cs ff #cs modern au #ouat three shot #adult Henry #cs as ghosts #a story told at last #prologue

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eastwesthomeisbest · 6 years ago

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Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

My artwork for "Roses (Tam lin) - a wonderful story written by @courtorderedcake

You can read it here: AO3

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

@cssns @kmomof4

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branlovestowrite · 6 years ago

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Captain Swan Supernatural Summer: Art for Face to Face in the Broad Daylight

This is the banner I created for @snowbellewells for her latest story, Face to Face in the Broad Daylight. This a sequel to he CSSNS story from last year.

This was so much fun to make, but also challenging. Its really hard to find pictures of Graham smiling! I'm really happy with the result, though. I love the pairing of Graham and Belle. If you haven't read her story, I highly recommend checking it out and giving her some love!

#cssns 19 #cs au #cs werewolf au #belle x graham #cs fic rec #my stuff

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cssns · 1 year ago

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We Are Back!!! Everyone Please Help Me Welcome @snowbellewells Back to the CSSNS!!!

Your Tumblr and any other applicable names

snowbellewells

How long have you been in the CS/OUAT fandom?

Around 11 years

When did you start shipping Captain Swan?

About as soon as Season 3 got going

What drew you to this event?

Well, I was psyched to be part of something with so many other friends and fic writers I was just getting to know back when the first CSSNS happened, and I was also excited for the possibility of more werewolf CS stories!

What inspired your topic?

I have always loved the original Dracula novel (movie versions, not so much 🫣) and I am actually dumbfounded I never thought of trying it before. Thanks to @kmomof4 for planting the idea in my head, because I didn’t actually know what I was going to do this year before that moment!

If you would like to share a snippet/sneak peek/summary of your fic or artwork, please use the space below.

Emma craned her neck to peer out the small window of the carriage into the black darkness encroaching on all sides as the conveyance careened around sharp curves and stark cliff faces in a way that made her stomach pitch and put her heart in her throat. More than once, her mouth opened to call to the driver, to beg him to slow down, but each time a sudden jolt or swerve had her clenching her teeth and swallowing the words back as she gripped the seat. Pitching wildly from one side of the bench to the other, Emma nearly toppled to the floor repeatedly as they sped on.

The torches at the side of the carriage doors flickered wildly behind their glass sconces, but barely even made pinpricks in the heavily encroaching night all around them; deep blackness which had seemingly swallowed them ever since they left the small gypsy outpost where they had supped just an hour past. Realizing belatedly that she was only becoming more overwrought and anxious the longer they hurtled forward, she tried to lean her head back against the seat and close her eyes rather than staring blindly into nothing, resolutely forcing deep, calming breaths as she did.

Scant moments passed in such a manner before Emma felt her racing heartbeat slow, at least a bit. It was then that a different sort of thrill ran along her spine - different from the chill which had settled over her skin with the horrifying loss of Aurora’s sweet, innocent life and the eerie foreboding which had accompanied her since setting out on this final leg of her path toward the perpetrator of her younger friend’s downfall. This determined trek higher and higher into the isolated Carpathian range seemed weighed more heavily on her spirit with every mile they gained. But they were close now. She could feel it.

Still, regardless of the tightening pit in her stomach and the anxious flutter of her pulse, Emma would not fail to accomplish her part in Killian’s plan. None of them would. They had taken solemn vows. Each one of their number had a role to play. And she was the bait…

For our artists: What kind of art do you like to do? Picsets, painting, digital, etc?

I do Canva picsets.

For our betas: Who/what have you beta'd before, or is this your first time?

I have beta read for CSSNS the last couple summers, and I also occasionally beta for individuals when asked. I really enjoy being part of a story as it is being formed, and getting to talk with another author along the way about ideas, their process, etc.

What are you looking forward to most about participating in this event?

As always, I can’t wait to read the other stories and get to interact with all of those who are still keeping the CS love going strong!!

Welcome back, Marta!!! Your writing is always so descriptive and I have CHILLS reading the snippet above!!! I can't wait for it to drop on Aug 18, as well as your shifter OS on July 19!!

#cssns24 #get to know me #snowbellewells

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darkcolinodonorgasm · 6 years ago

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Hidden paths between the Moon and Sun (1/6)

A/N: and here it is!! My second fic for @cssns is finally here! I’ve always wanted to write a sequel to Until the stars are all alight - which I invite you to read to understand this fic - and now that the event is open to all the mythological stuff, I just had to write it.

I admit, I’ve debated for soooooo long about what it would be about, and my actual plan was for a one shot, but after a while, as I kept writing without an actual plot in mind, I just realized I could write something good, something a tad different from the origin story I already wrote, still sticking to mythology, but giving you readers lots of fluff to balance out the angst of my other CSSNS fic. You read it correctly, people, this is going to be aaaaaall fluff. And smut. Smuff. Hopefully good smuff.

I can’t thank @profdanglaisstuff enough for her wonderful, bloody brilliant beta skills and suggestions. I’d be lost without you, really. Thank you so much.

Many many many thanks to the wonderful @sherlockianwhovian who’s my artist for this event and came up with this wonderful piece of art in so little time and probably during Post Con Depression. You rock, and the art is too amazing for words. Thank you very much.

Lastly, I want to give a shout out to all the people in the discord chat for their help and cheering.

Oh no, wait, last one to be thanked for his services is Tolkien, since I stole this title from him. Again.

Summary: the King of the Underworld has never taken a vacation before, not a proper one and not one that lasted more than a few months. Now that his firstborn is capable enough to take the throne ad interim, Killian can finally show his beloved Queen the world, giving her the honeymoon they never had the chance to have. But the King’s plan doesn’t stop quite there.

(ao3) - (ff.net)

There was something to be said about what people believed in and what they claimed happened as if they'd been there.

It was all a big, fat lie.

Sure, there were books, there were myths, there was art, which captured - or tried to - what had happened. No one could deny the sculptures were fabulous, that some myths were better than the truth and that some others were much worse instead. Namely, the one the Queen of the Underworld was sick of seeing as an abduction when it had been her own choice.

The King of the Underworld knew it wasn't true, but it didn't stop him from being angered by the very idea of hurting his beloved wife. It didn't help that it'd been Demeter spreading those lies, accusing him of sullying her precious daughter when the goddess of the harvest and agriculture had been the one slowly killing her instead.

For too long, Killian had not understood what an important part he'd played in saving his wife from an eternity of suffering and seclusion, a life in which her light would've started to dim until it completely disappeared.

Looking over at her, now, with her long golden curls loose down her back as she lay on a chaise with her pyjamas on and bare feet wiggling in time to whatever music she was listening to, Killian couldn't help but smile.

It'd been so long since he last saw her like this, all the souls wandering the Underworld during this last century were restless and caused no little trouble. It was one of the worst consequences of war, when so many had unfinished business and had witnessed such atrocities they only desired to rest in peace.

Not having the influence on humans as they used to, the gods could do little to stop them. Surprisingly, even Ares himself had tried to put a stop to the bloodshed, in vain.

Now, after decades, Killian could finally say well-deserved rest awaited them.

Sitting on the marble floor next to the chaise, he raised his hand to trace Emma's hip bone, left uncovered as her pyjama tank top had ridden up her stomach and the flannel pants she was wearing had such a low waist…

A strangled growl escaped the back of his throat as Emma's slim fingers ran through his hair, grasping the silky strands and forcing him to tilt his head back.

«Don't.»

One of his eyebrows shot impossibly high. «Are you denying me, my Queen?» Oh, he was a downright bastard when he wanted to be, he acknowledged that as he twisted his head enough to trace the curve of her waist with the cold tip of his nose, warm breath ghosting over her skin and making gooseflesh rise.

«Y-yes,» Emma hissed, yanking the earphones away and tossing her phone on the other chaise nearby.

His serpent tongue darted out, tasting her unique, decadent flavour. He loved how, no matter how long she’d spent in the Underworld, his wife was still full of light and life like the first day he saw her.

No, no, she was more, she felt better than she had then, he could see and feel that. If possible, the darkness of what he was had helped her shine brighter. Perhaps that was the reason why they worked so well together, because they loved each other with such depth that even the myths were scared to tell the truth.

Daringly, he leaned forward, gently biting onto the soft skin there, gaining a shocked squeal. Killian grinned in triumph, triumph that was short lived when her nails dug into his scalp. She still was feisty as the first day he saw her, refusing to leave him no matter the consequences.

Emma moaned as he traced a faint stretch mark with his tongue, loving the proof that she'd borne two wonderful children even when she found it hideous. It was no wonder that Emma came to hate her own body after the months spent with her mother.

Fortunately, that didn't happen frequently: whilst Snow was still relentless in professing her hatred towards him, Emma wasn't forced to leave home anymore. One could say Henry and Alice had made her go soft - because yes, despite having prayed they would never come to be, Snow had grown to love her grandchildren.

Honestly, Killian didn't care: as long as the three loves of his life were happy and safe, he could bear everything much like Atlas did the weight of the world.

Suddenly, he stood, earning a whine from Emma. «Apologies, my love, but we need to go, or we are going to find ourselves suddenly swamped in new souls.»

A frown clouded her face, making her put her earphones and phone aside. «Where exactly are we going?»

«We, beloved wife,» Killian replied with a boyish smile, circling her waist with his arm, smiling even wider when her lips ticked up, too, «are going on a vacation.»

Blinking in shock, the Queen tilted her head. «A vacation?» She placed her palm flat over Killian’s forehead. «Is it possible for the King of the Underworld to get ill? You do seem a bit more pale than usual.»

«Shush,» he huffed, gently grabbing her wrist and pressing his lips against every knuckle. «With all these wars, their victims, the wars the souls got into once they were here, we didn’t get much time to ourselves, not as much as I wanted. Besides, Henry has already ruled alone from time to time.»

The swell of pride Killian felt in his chest as the mention of his firstborn’s work as Prince of the Underworld. Both Henry and Alice took their work seriously, both content with their roles. Honestly, Killian believed his daughter took a great deal of pleasure in being the goddess of nightmares and madness. It suited her, to be fair, her soul was perfect for the role. Alice was perfect.

He could feel Emma tense in his arms. Of course, the idea of leaving her children alone was never one she wanted to take in consideration, not when she’d once been forced to leave the Underworld for six months of each year. Fortunately, after Emma told her she was with child the first time, Demeter had to leave her be - and undoubtedly Zeus spoke to Snow, the name she went by after she’d brought winter upon the world the one most of the divinities addressed her with. Zeus, or Jupiter, or David, as the Olympians knew him, knew how to deal with her since she still pined after him. Killian didn’t really want to think about that.

Deciding to focus on his wife instead, he pressed his lips against the crown of her head. «He’ll be perfectly fine, love,» he tried to reassure her, ringed fingers combing through her hair.

For a few moments, Emma stayed like that, cheek pressed against his shoulder.

«Do you think we can go to Venice?»

It was her voice, so small and tinged with embarrassment, that made him laugh out loud - and earn a slap on the arm. Her glare wasn’t helping either. Neither did her pout.

At last, he bent down to capture her lips with his. «We surely can, however I rather not repeat our last night there.»

Her fingers found their way into his mass of hair once again. «I agree, knocking a votive candle over and starting a fire is not what I call a good-»

«It was a good fuck,» he cut her off, relishing the way she stared at him in shock, mouth agape. It lasted so long he started to squirm, until another slap hit him. Killian broke into another laugh.

It took Killian peppering her cheeks and neck with kisses to have her smiling once again, giggling because his stubble was tickling her. Oh, how he loved that sound.

Only when he slipped his fingers beneath her top and started tickling her for real she started to squeal and plead for mercy. «Alright, alright, it was a good fuck, one of the best!» Emma conceded, tears running down her face. He kissed them away.

«It was only 1231, my love, I hope you your top chart of best fucks hasn’t stopped there,» Killian growled into her ear, the cold tips of his fingers grazing the underside of her breasts, along her ribs. Emma shivered in his arms.

One of her golden eyebrows arched, mirth shining in her eyes. «Mhm, wouldn’t you like to know?»

«Perhaps I would.» A growl followed, and he would’ve definitely postponed their departure had a knock not resounded in the room. His brain conjured every kind of punishment he could carry out on the unfortunate soul coming to stop him from seducing his wife.

«I hope you are decent and ready to go!»

A smile spread on Killian’s face the moment he realized it was Alice behind the closed door. Without waiting for an answer - and it was already impressive that she’d knocked in the first place - the blond goddess of ghosts waltzed into the room, crashing into her parents’ bodies.

Thick braids framed her face, reminding Killian of ancient times in which she was just a little girl and he braided her hair as he did her mother’s as the latter wove flower crowns for all of them.

Although glad those private moments weren’t common knowledge among mortals, he often wondered why myths kept picturing him as a villain, even after they stopped believing in his existence. Only in recent years, mostly younglings - teenagers, he heard his wife’s voice whisper inside his mind - had started seeing the myths for what they truly were: lies. It may not change them on paper, but Killian took quite the pleasure in seeing Demeter fume at the knowledge that mortals didn’t see him as a monster anymore.

«Papa,» Alice’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, «you have to hurry.»

Emma’s finger found its way between his ribs, making him wince. Ah, one of the best secrets in that family: they were all ticklish. «It’s not funny anymore when is someone else hurrying you up, is it?»

Cheeky wench, he thought, suddenly overcome by the need of sticking out his tongue. Alas, he knew Alice was right. They did have a plane to catch. Emma would hate him for that, for not opening a portal wherever he wanted to bring her, but it was all part of the plan: to be as human as possible during the longest honeymoon they ever had.

In fact, during the millennia they’d been together, King and Queen of the Underworld never left their home - together, that is - for more than a few days. The longest time they’d spent in the human world were a few months here and there during Italian Renaissance and the Victorian era, trusting their children to take on their world’s responsibilities on their own. Now the time had come for Killian to leave Henry in charge for however long he desired, knowing his father was only a phone call and a portal away in case he needed help.

«Patḗr,» Henry’s voice came from the corridor, soon followed by the young man himself. After millennia, his height now matched Killian’s. Zeus help him, but Killian missed how his children had been when they were little, young pests making Cerberus go crazy and their screams rivalling the harpies’, but small enough to scoop them in his arms and hold them to his chest, lulling them to sleep.

«If you tell me we have to hurry I’ll send you to bloody Tartarus,» Killian grumbled, ruffling his hair with a smile on his lips which didn’t match his tone.

Nevertheless, his son paled a bit at the mention of one of the worst places in the Underworld - although they’d renovated it quite a lot. Henry’s fear was rooted deep inside him, since he’d found himself lost in there for hours when he was barely a newborn - even if by human standards he was quite old instead. The imprisoned Titans there had scared him so much Henry had almost expressed the desire to spend time on Earth. Fortunately, both for the child and himself, Killian had managed to quench his fears.

Killian was a lucky god indeed: he’d been afraid Emma would hold their son’s terror against him, but she’d surprised him once again by trying to calm down Henry as well, not desiring to separate father and son - nor force Killian to live without them ever again.

Henry huffed. «Well, yes, that’s exactly the reason I came here. If you don’t go now, there’s no way in hell you’ll be able to catch that plane in time. You’re lucky they now do check-ins online.»

«A plane?»

Henry smiled innocently at his father.

Bowing his head, the King exhaled, exasperated. He wasn’t angry at Henry, perhaps a little disappointed that his wife now knew she had to take a plane - several throughout their honeymoon, to be honest. He just wanted to give her a semblance of humanity.

His desperation was short lived, as Emma pushed herself up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear for only him to hear: «You’d better make sure we join the mile high club, then.»

Choking on his breath, Killian watched with wide eyes as she went to change, mouth hanging open. Even after all this time, his wife knew how to render him speechless. Oh, how he loved her.

«Papa,» Alice hissed to catch his attention, «don’t be so secretive, she’s already suspicious, don’t ruin everything.» Her expression softened after her scolding. «You’ve put so much effort into this plan, I don’t want you to have worked in vain.»

The myths would never dare tell mere mortals the King of the Underworld could cry.

Wrapping his arms around his daughter, Killian pulled her into his chest, breathing in that scent of oranges and ashes she always left behind, whether she manifested herself in physical form or in the essence of nightmares. It was a perfect combination of Earth and Underworld, much like Henry’s scent, cinnamon and incense, something he’d never thought would work but, just like him and Emma, it did.

«Don’t worry, Starfish, she can try and torture me all she wants, I won’t tell her a thing. This time.»

Whilst actual torture was off the table for obvious reasons, Emma had improved her sexual torture skills during the centuries, and more than once she’d bent Killian to her will when they were arguing. This time, however, Killian’s lips were sealed: there was too much at stake. Besides, he knew his wife was able to be patient if she so wanted; he only hoped this was the case now.

«Hopefully this will do, since my closet now stops at 90’s fashion.»

A grin stretched his lips before he even turned around, knowing which dress he’d left for her to put on, a deep red sundress and flats he knew would be comfortable for the journey. Once he’d reached her, he took her hands in his, kissing her knuckles. «You look ravishing, my love.»

Her cheeks tinted red like the sky at sunset. Sailor’s delight indeed, Killian mused, leaning forward to brush a kiss over her lips before gently dragging her out their apartments. Looking at his wife from over his shoulder, Killian saw her eyes sparkling in delight: she totally knew something was up, but she would wait, perhaps not patiently, but she would, just like Killian knew she would complain sometimes, but still respect his wishes. He couldn’t have found a better partner for eternity.

Once they reached the throne room, Henry and Alice trailing behind them with matching grins stretching their lips, Emma turned to throw her arms around them. Killian’s heart swelled in his chest at the sight.

Being the wonderful mother she was, especially after suffering so much before she finally got pregnant, Emma didn’t want her children to feel neglected only because she and their father were leaving. Alice rolled her eyes in true Emma fashion, which made the woman in question laugh tearfully.

After kissing her daughter several times and arranging her braids and strands of hair which had escaped Alice’s attention, the Queen of the Underworld moved her attention onto her son. Even if she was now much shorter than him Emma found no problem in lifting herself on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead. «Be careful,» she whispered, knowing all too well the dangers the Underworld could hide in the form of innocent souls. One too many times they had to deal with people who, not knowing what their unfinished business was, spent too long in the Underworld, creating disturbances its King had been forced to put a stop to in the bloodiest way.

Wishful they’d been in hoping Henry wouldn’t have to do what Killian had, but they’d been relieved when their son hadn’t turned into the darkest version of himself. Killian suspected it was thanks to Emma’s light. Nay, he was sure of it. Emma would simply huff and roll her eyes at his silliness: no matter what he thought, Killian was light, too.

A low whine echoed in the room, or rather, three low whines. Behind Emma, in fact, now towered Cerberus, the ears on his three heads low in sadness. The Queen reached her hand out, and the head in the center nuzzled against her palm.

«Protect them,» she ordered, knowing it wasn’t necessary for the creature: mostly, it was for herself.

Licking her forearm at the same time, the three heads rubbed their dark muzzles against her body, enveloping her in their own kind of hug. Aye, the Queen of the Underworld was very much loved by everyone, particularly by its King.

Once Cerberus saw fit to release his mistress - after Emma gave each head a kiss - the goddess turned around, hugging tightly the blood of her blood once again.

Sneaking a hand out of the embrace, Emma grabbed the front of Killian’s shirt and pulled him into the family embrace.

Suddenly, he didn’t feel like leaving anymore. Sighing into Alice’s hair, he rubbed the back of Henry’s neck, eyes closed as he basked in that feeling of home, of wholeness he knew he wouldn’t be feeling until they were all reunited.

Alice’s pocket watch started to ring in the pocket of her coat, and she yelped. «You’re totally going to be late!» Reluctantly pulling away from them, she walked to the center of the room, the heels of her booties clicking on the dark marble.

As a goddess, and one born and raised in the Underworld no less, Alice, much like Henry and her father, was able to open portals. Emma could do that, too, but it’d come to her as a shock, since most of her powers had never been used until she broke free of her mother’s control.

Even though she knew they would have to take a plane, Emma arched her eyebrows at the sight of Athens airport.

Bowing, Killian reached his hand out for her to take. «My goddess.»

Emma sighed almost dreamily. «My King,» she replied, closing her fingers over his. Of course he would kiss her hand, it was probably the gesture she was most fond of. Tilting her head, she frowned. «No suitcases?»

The grin on Killian’s face widened impossibly. «Everything is just where it needs to be, my love.» He stepped closer, his chest brushing against hers, his lips capturing hers in a breathtaking kiss. «You are all I’ll ever need.»

A few steps from them, Alice sighed. Henry simply fought back the tears.

Hand in hand, the rulers waved to their children one last time before disappearing into the portal, ready for their next adventure together.

Once the portal was closed, Alice waltzed to her older brother to stand shoulder to shoulder next to him.

Henry grinned at her, and they fistbumped. «Operation Nekromanteion is a go.»

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snowbellewells · 6 years ago

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A Story Told at Last: Part Two

{Well, here it is finally! I apologize for the wait on the conclusion of this story; I never meant for it to be so long between installments. All I can do is ask for understanding and hope those who were reading will still enjoy this ending despite the delay.

Many, many thanks to @branlovestowrite for this amazing story banner that I simply love to bits!! And also to @whimsicallyenchantedrose for beta reading and for the helpful insights and comments she provided. I am continually grateful to the @cssns itself as well for offering an event that gives a chance for such fun both participating and contributing.}

** Previous parts can be found here: Prologue /// Part One

And now for the conclusion of this little tale....

~ Part Two ~

Henry came back to himself the next morning to the sound of anxious pounding on the door of his room. Sitting up slowly, blinking and struggling to regain his bearings, he began to hurry toward the sounds only when he also heard Violet’s worried voice through the wooden barrier, calling out with concern for him.

“Henry? Henry, are you in there?” Several more sharp raps against the hard surface followed, just before he could reach the doorknob in his befuddled state. “We got worried when you weren’t downstairs to meet the bus, Profess - “ Her words cut off abruptly as Henry finally managed to turn the knob and swing the door open to face her.

While he hadn’t really considered the rumpled mess of a picture he must present, the way Violet’s mouth fell open in surprise, and how her hand reached out as if to either feel his forehead or offer him support somehow before quickly pulling back, said quite a lot. Her prettily rosy cheeks paled as she stuttered anxiously, “H-Henry...are you alright?”

Feeling more than a bit awkward and embarrassed standing before her in the previous day’s clothing and obviously late for the group’s scheduled departure time, Henry shuffled from foot to foot before clearing his throat and attempting to smooth his sleep-disheveled hair back into lying calmly on his head. Violet, as was her way, looked impeccably neat and professional in sturdy khakis and a pale lavender sleeveless shirt that he knew must have a matching cardigan or jacket somewhere in her suitcase. She didn’t look judgmental in the least though, only concerned for him, despite his growing embarrassment.

“I’ll be fine, just a little off balance,” he offered uncertainly, already reaching behind him to begin shoving necessary items into the satchel he carried with him on their excursions. “Would you just, please, make my apologies to the others, and our driver? Ask them to give me five more minutes, and I’ll be right down.”

He was scrambling by then, to find his shoes, locate his keys, and get dressed almost all at once, so that he didn’t realize Violet had not left yet after agreeing to his request. She had instead taken a step forward into his room, one more question of if he was really alright on the tip of her tongue when he whipped off his old T-shirt, ready to pull on the clean one he’d found.

Her startled gasp arrested him in the midst of raising his arms to pull the new shirt over his head, turning wide-eyed to face her and already flushing red in his cheeks and well down his neck and chest. Slowly lowering his arms, and the material down to cover his bare torso as well, he couldn’t dismiss the hopeful idea that Violet seemed unable to stop staring at his chest, even once again clothed in one of his usual tops, and that she was swaying just the slightest bit toward him, as if drawn by a magnet.

The odd moment broke at last when Henry stepped forward, just as Violet did the same, and they nearly collided. Both jerked away again, Henry already apologizing and bringing a hand to his stinging chin, even as Violet rubbed her forehead where they had made sharp contact.

“It’s alright, Henry. Truly. It’s fine,” she assured softly, reaching out to clasp his wrist with gentle pressure and calm his rapid flow of words.

Her former professor’s deep brown eyes raised to search hers hopefully, clearly easing as she nodded in added confirmation. “Honestly,” she added with a small smile, patting his arm before releasing her hold. “I’m really just glad to see that you’re okay.”

Catching her hand before she could retract the soft, delicate fingers completely, he squeezed back with gentle gratitude. Shaking his head ruefully, Henry let out a low chuckle and confessed to her honestly. “Alright might be a bit of a stretch, really. In fact, you may think I’m downright insane when I tell you what’s happened, Vi. But, let me get ready before we make everyone else even later, and I’ll share on the way.”

She nodded, stepping back to go so he could change and be ready to leave for the site as soon as possible. Yet, before she slipped back out the door, with one last promise she added, “Whatever you say, Henry. But, just know this… whatever it is that’s going on...I doubt I’ll think you’re crazy. I believe in you.”

Henry’s breath stalled at her admission, and he turned toward her to thank her, to express a similar faith, but Violet had already fled the room. There was nothing else he could do but hurry to rejoin her; her words and his excitement at his vision too, driving him onward so as not to disappoint her galvanizing confidence.

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

By the time their bus had reached the crumbling remains of Emmaline’s tower once more, Henry had told Violet all he’d seen and heard in his vision. To his utter astonishment, though wide-eyed and stunned, she had taken every word as truth and believed him.

Once they were at the ruins, she still seemed a bit overcome - Henry couldn’t say that he blamed her, as he was more than a little disbelieving himself - but they piled out of the van as everyone else did, perhaps even more anxious to know what else they might learn or see after his midnight vision. Violet did, however, turn back to look at him once they were both on solid ground, a light touch to his upper arm to convey her concern as she whispered low enough that the others bustling around them couldn’t hear. “You’re sure, that you’re alright to be out here, aren’t you, Henry? I mean… you aren’t disoriented or lightheaded or anything like that?”

Even if he were, there was no way that Henry Mills was letting his last day in this scenic escape, this place of legend at which he had worked and scrimped and saved to arrive, be lost to a weird dream or a strange bout of vertigo, whatever it was that had come over him. He was careful of course not to seem impatient with Violet though; her care for him touched him greatly, warming and thrilling him inside much more than he would like to admit. Instead, he merely shook his head slightly, hoping to assuage her worries by appearing unfazed and moving forward with this last day’s exploration of their site. “Thanks, truly. I appreciate you checking,” he offered, “but I’m fine - no lingering side effects.”

As he spoke, they neared the last vestiges of the archway where they had discovered the compass the day before. Henry could tell that Violet ached to explore further, to make sure there was nothing else of note, to study the intricacies of design and execution that were more to her interests than his, but that she was equally reluctant to leave him after the strange stupor in which she had found him just a short time ago.

Good naturedly smirking at his own odd behavior, Henry urged her to see to what she wished. “Vi, really, go on and have another look. It’s not like this opportunity comes around every day. I promise, I’m not going to keel over.”

She shook her head at his lighthearted teasing, all ready with the stubborn reminder that he didn’t get the scare of wondering what had happened, worrying whether or not he was alright, but she bit her tongue in the end. Bickering wasn’t going to make him see his health as more important than their find, and it would probably only make him feel badly to know just how concerned she had been at the pale, unsteady sight he had presented when he first opened his door to her that morning. Plus, it would waste precious time, and so instead she moved off with a nod of begrudging consent and one more gentle press of his hand.

Henry, meanwhile, when he had made certain that Violet wasn’t holding back on his account, moved carefully toward the crumbling frame of the window in an outer wall still partially standing some feet away. It was slow going for the bits of stone and splintered, weathered furniture scattered in the way between, but he picked his way through the detritus without falling himself or destroying anything which might be of value. The niggling feeling that the window he stood before was the very one he had seen in his vision, the one from which the rogue lieutenant visiting his imprisoned lover swung to escape the princess�� guard, and he could hardly fight the need to touch it - see it - for himself, as if he could somehow derive the rest of the story, what had happened next, from the space he had seen in that reverie.

And though as much as he had promised his concerned protegé that all would be well, Henry still felt a bit off balance and unsettled, as if whatever presence or power in the air was still lingering from his encounter that morning. No sooner had he neared the wall, than he was reaching out to rest his hand on what would once have been the window sill, now loose and partially eroded by time.

Taking a moment to look more closely at the cracked stone and dusty grooves, Henry curled his fingers into a gap curiously, the piece of rock still in place shifting to the side and allowing his fingertips to slide deeper into the opening. For a moment, he felt nothing, just empty space and a disorienting sensation of brushing up against a wide open void, then his grasp caught against an edge of paper or leather, almost like the corner of a book. Straining to reach just a bit further, he managed to grasp the item and clutched tightly to draw it out.

Several more bits of debris and rubble fell away as Henry attempted to carefully extract his treasure. Once free of its hiding place, however, the mystery was revealed as indeed being some sort of leather bound journal or logbook. Brushing off the cover the best he could, despite the determined cling of years and years of cobwebs and mildew, Henry held his breath, hoping the pages wouldn’t crumble to dust, that they were still legible. It might contain the proof and the answers he had been seeking.

Ever so gingerly, Henry carefully opened the cover to find a flourishing if faded script scrawled across the opening page of the book in his hand. And even before he could locate the author’s purpose or name, he felt his surroundings begin to swirl and fade to grey once more, for the second time in one day, he was seeing the tower as it had been and the princess within it long ago…

“What have I done?!?” Emmaline’s tormented wail echoes in the thin air of the tower’s height, as her sword clatters to the floor from her suddenly nerveless fingers. The guard she felled is clearly not dead, as his chest rises and falls steadily even in unconsciousness. Still, though her father had trained her well in swordplay, until her technique and form was nearly as flawless as his own, she had never before actually struck someone with such determined intent. To stop them - and even end their life if necessary, rather than see her lover caught and killed.

Turning at that, her eyes still frantic at the blood that runs from the slice across his cheek beneath his eye, all too close to putting out the brilliant blue light forever. Her lip quivers, and Princess Emmaline struggles to bite back the ridiculous show of weakness and emotion, even while stumbling toward Killian at the same time.

He catches her in his arms, smoothing her wild hair back form her damp brow and whispering reassurances that she only did what she had to, that she isn’t cruel or evil, only a brave woman taking her stand in an impossible situation, and - if possible - he loves her even more, “bloody brilliant” she is in his adoring eyes.

However, the stolen moment is not meant to be theirs for long. Shouts from below remind them that the man they have felled to make their escape was not the only one, and unless they wish to be forced to do even more damage, they must go - immediately. Pausing a mere second longer, Emmaline snatches up a small brown book from a desk in the corner of the room. Pressing it to her mouth as if imprinting a kiss in its surface, she hurries to the window where her sailor stands waiting to spirit her away - from her family, her kingdom, her duty - but also to freedom and a life, something it has become clear she will never regain locked away in some gilded cage.

Working loose a part of the masonry, she slips her private diary into the aperture created, hoping against hope that it will be found. That her parents and her brother will be able to read it and know that she has discovered a way forward, even if it isn’t what they had always planned. She hopes she will see them again someday, but if not…

Looking up to meet her rogue lieutenant’s pained but knowing gaze, she is relieved to see she needs give no explanation. He understands, just as he always has.

Then, with a final backward glance around her prison, she is swinging over the side with him, his steady presence next to her helping as they begin their descent on sturdy ropes, toward the ground below where horses wait to take them to his ship in the harbor....

Henry jolts back into his own place and time more immediately with this second vision. Already anxious to read the book still clasped in his hands, his heart thrums with excitement in his chest at knowing just what it is he holds. He gulps in air like a fish floundering on the docks, but it doesn’t slow his haste or enthusiasm. This is it; the evidence he had always believed he would find. Princess Emmaline existed, she was real; her story had happened just as it had been said. And now, at last, he could show the rest of the world the truth.

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

Six months later ~

Hand in hand, Henry Mills and Violet Clemens stand in the sacred space once more - the site that drew both of them halfway around the world, but also to each other. Since their research venture to the Misthavian ruins, there has been widespread recognition that the tiny kingdom did exist and that its lost princess had been a real, living being of flesh and blood. Though it was asking a bit much for the reigning historical and scientific community to believe that she had been locked away due to a fear of her magic, as detailed in her diary, it had become accepted knowledge that Princess Emmaline had been held in the windswept and isolated tower they had explored, she had been denied her birthright and crown, and had - much like her homeland - vanished almost completely from history… if not for the tokens Professor Henry Mills and his team had discovered.

They are now both published and much-lauded experts in their field; both already had been experts, it was just a matter of the rest of the world realizing it. More important than glory and fame though, to both Henry and Violet, was that now they could return to this place, so close to both their hearts, and perhaps offer closure to two souls who had been awaiting it much longer than either of them.

As the couple stood at the small display which had since been constructed at the scenic overlook near the ruins, there was an absolute sense of accomplishment. It was just a small podium with a guest book for tourists and visitors to sign and a protective case allowing the compass and diary to be returned where they belonged, but still available for the curious, the lost, and the lonely to see, to read, and to learn from the Princess’ story and take heart again. It was just how Henry had wanted it and had fought against various museums and universities to have it be displayed - as he could only hope the long ago royal would have approved.

Looking lovingly to the woman at his side, Henry smiled unabashedly as the sparkle of her engagement ring caught his eye and he simply brought their joined hands to his mouth to kiss the back of hers. He could still remember that first dim evening, when he had ventured within the tower’s remaining walls with cautious reverence. He had sensed that he was not alone, the presence that - while not threatening - had still sent a shiver skittering down his spine. Violet had long since talked with him of a similar awareness as they worked within the aged structure, and it was what brought them back now, to say one final farewell before embarking on a joined life together, to bid another lingering pair of lovers rest at long last - impossible as that quest might seem.

“Do you think we’ll know if they’re here?” Violet whispered to him, her eyes wide and half-hopeful, half-worried.

“I’m not sure what to expect,” he answered seriously. “It was just a feeling I couldn’t shake when we were here before. I don’t know whether to believe it will be more or less this time around.”

They waited, breath caught between nervously bitten lips in silence, before Henry stepped closer to the preserved ancient stone walls rising around them. “If you can hear me…” he started, tentative but determined, hopeful, and in a voice gaining strength as he continued with Violet’s reassurance at his back. “Princess? Lieutenant?...The world knows now, about Misthavia and about you. That you were real, that you existed, and about your love for each other. No one believes Killian stole you away against your will anymore. And though most people of the modern age don’t believe in magic, they know now that you were wrongfully imprisoned, your Highness. They understand that though Misthavia ceased to exist as a separate nation, you never had your chance to rule to try and save her. And…” Henry paused here, swallowing a lump that took him by surprise as it formed suddenly in his throat… “and, though we can’t for sure know what became of either of you, it is known that Lieutenant Jones saved you, Princess Emmaline. That you loved him and he loved you. And I’m going to choose to believe in a happy ending for you both… that you sailed until you found a place where you could be together, come what may.”

“I do too,” Violet echoed into their still surroundings, offering him a gently affectionate smile as she gazed up into his intense and open brown eyes - the moment stretching powerfully between the two of them, cementing their faith in each other and their bond, whether or not anyone else bore witness.

Then, surprisingly, Violet’s eyes widened as she looked off to Henry’s side. “They - they’re here…” she breathed, almost too stunned to speak at all in the quiet evening around them.

Peering in the same direction Violet was, awestruck, Henry was slowly able to discern two clouded white shapes in the murky grey dusk, becoming ever more solid and opaque as Henry and Violet stood watching. Though far from corporeal, they were two human forms, one slighter with almost an outline of a medieval, bell-sleeved dress and what appeared a flower crown upon its head; the other taller and wearing what seemed to be a sword at its side, with broader shoulders.

Though the apparitions seemed to turn toward Henry and Violet, as if offering their gratitude, they came no closer, and merely hovered in place as the two historians held their breath for fear the moment might vanish. Soon enough as it was, the two cloudy shapes, once princess and pirate sailor, appeared to bow in farewell, then move toward the overlook, as though seeing the bright horizon and the waves far below that they had been separated from for so long. Just before the modern couple’s eyes, their ghosts began to fade into nothingness, gradually losing consistency, as if finally slipping the tether that had held them to the ruin. Vindicated at last, and free to move beyond, they set sail at last for peaceful shores.

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @therooksshiningknight @laschatzi @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @thisonesatellite @resident-of-storybrooke @winterbaby89 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @ilovemesomekillianjones @revanmeetra87 @teamhook @darkcolinodonorgasm @scientificapricot @spartanguard @let-it-raines @thislassishooked @profdanglaisstuff @shireness-says @bromfieldhall @branlovestowrite @hollyethecurious

#cssns 19 #cs au ff #cs two shot #adult henry #cs as ghosts #a story told at last #the conclusion

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snowbellewells · 6 years ago

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@welllpthisishappening Oh man alive what a lovely and perfect closing chapter of this soulmates story!! Killian’s nerves and how very long he wanted to ask Emma to marry him were just irresistible, as is the way tough, street smart Emma is so much softer and more lighthearted with Killian in her life.

This lovely bit captured that so well: “He kisses her again. Something about habit or how much he’ll never be entirely used to the way she says his name, like it’s hers in a way that it absolutely is. So long as they both shall live. Eventually. Maybe. Hopefully.”

I adore that you actually sent them to Disney Workd as well. How they couldn’t wait to be “Mr. and Mrs. Jones” and we’re off on their honeymoon before anyone even knew, so they took the picture at Cinderella’s Castle to tell everyone- all of that was just priceless!

My favorite bit though, was the revelation that both wanted to adopt, to give a child the family and completion they had both been missing and then found together. The last few scenes with Henry - yes, the fairytale worthy happily ever after - just finishes this off with a perfect flourish! Thanks for sharing such an enjoyable story with us!

All the Subliminal Things: Epilogue

Killian Jones has a plan and a box and a question sitting on the tip of his tongue. Only he and Emma have never been particularly good at plans.

They’re better at falling into something that never really felt like falling, all ease and normalcy and beginning to expect the unexpected. So, he doesn’t really ask, so much as he states it and the next thing he knows, they’re on a plane leaving JFK.

Without telling any of their friends.

—–

Rating: Still teen, but just with like…a ton of kissing. Word Count: 7K’ish. Lots of Disney World knowledge. More kissing. AN: A few days ago I got a very lovely ask with some very nice words about All the Subliminal Things (plus a very nice message from @idristardis) asking for some kind of epilogue. And there are genuinely few things I love more than writing fluff and Disney World, so combining the two was a no-brainer of perfect day-off activities. Here you will find: kissing, fluff, more kissing, seriously more fluff, a bunch of Disney World moments that are far too autobiographical and how convenient it is that the Tangled bathrooms are that close to Peter Pan’s Flight at Magic Kingdom.

As always, I can’t thank you guys enough for saying such lovely things about the words I spew at you and to @cssns for hosting this event. I’ll have some more supernatural words later this month.

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll.

—–

He genuinely, one-hundred percent does not mean for it to happen the way that it does.

That, however, seems to be how they operate –– unexpected and even better, a string of wonderful and slightly magical, all ease and two years of ups and downs and how comfortable it is to fall asleep on the couch together.

They fall asleep on the couch all the time.

It’s a ridiculous habit.

It’s painfully domestic.

And, sometimes, just painful, but Emma likes to say that’s because Killian is old and she always flashes him that very specific smile when she does it. That makes it less painful.

So, really, he can’t be held accountable for what happens. Because Killian did, in fact, have a plan. He had an idea and expectations and a box that’s been burning a hole in his pocket for the last few weeks.

Metaphorically.

But then Emma swings open the door of the bar, hair sticking to her face and color to her cheeks and––“We got him,” she proclaims, slumping over the front of the counter with a huff that probably shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.

Keep reading

#cs ff #cssns 19 #all the subliminal things #epilogue #cs fic rec #what a wonderful conclusion!! 💕⚓️💕

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seriouslyhooked · 6 years ago

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Lost Souls and Reveries (Part 19)

22 part AU written for @cssns. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6,Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13,Part 14, Part 15,Part 16, Part 17, Part 18. Story available on AO3 Here and FF Here. Banner created by the amazingly talented @shipsxahoy!!

Killian Jones is a wolf shifter without roots, without plans, and without a pack. He’s a rogue, someone humans should avoid and shifters should be wary of given his lineage. But one night years back set him on a path he didn’t realize he was taking, a path leading to a future he is destined for. That future is tied up in one woman – a human named Emma Nolan. Together Emma and Killian will find not only answers, but a love that’s truly fated. But will love be enough to set them free, or will past demons win out in the end? (Answer: love always wins – I am writing this so despite some tiny pockets of angst it’s basically a fluff-filled insta-love fest). Rated M.

A/N: Hey everyone! After a good while away I am back with another chapter of Lost Souls and Reveries. As has happened in the past, I went to write the chapter I had briefly outlined only to realize I couldn’t accomplish everything in one installment. There’s still quite a bit of story left I have to incorporate, and some loose ends I have to tie up, and hopefully everyone can follow along. For clarity’s sake, just know that the bulk of this chapter is told from Killian’s POV, and at the end there’s another POV. No spoilers, but more will become clear by the end of this this chapter and the next. Also it’s kind of an intense scene that we end on, so for my more light-hearted readers feel free to skip and ask me what happens. Anyway, thanks so much for reading and hope you all enjoy!

“Do we really have to go? It’s not too late to bail. We could go to the beach, or a run in the woods. Ooh, maybe we could get a root canal! That would be great compared to this.”

Killian chuckled at Emma’s commentary as they walked along the lane that lead to her parents’ home. They were en route to a ‘wedding brainstorm session’ with Emma’s mother, and though Killian had known Mary Margaret Nolan for some time now, he wondered if either her or Emma could really be ready for what was to come. For the next few hours, Mary Margaret was undoubtedly going to present them with roughly one million tiny questions about their impending wedding, very few of which would seem to really matter. For Killian, there were only three things he cared about. The first was that he wanted to marry Emma. The second was that he wanted to marry her soon. And the third was that he wanted her to be happy with the wedding. He didn’t give a damn about anything else. If Emma wanted it, she would have it, and that was the end of that. Unfortunately though, Killian knew one thing Emma did not want, and it was all of this over the top planning. His mate was hardly high maintenance, and though she’d talked to him casually about some things she might like for their special day, they were simple requests that mostly aligned with classic traditions.

“Sorry, love. I’m afraid we’ve no dental disasters in our future for the time being.”

“So the beach then?” Emma asked hopefully and Killian smiled as he shook his head. He hated to deny her anything, but at the same time he knew Emma was only teasing. She’d given her word that they would come today, and his love was a woman of character. She never broke a promise, and she always abided by her commitments.

“I promise you, Emma, that as soon as this is done, I will make it up to you.”

He pulled her into his arms as they stopped walking, and instinctively he moved her hair back to get a better look at her admiring her effortless beauty. He could see that her jokes right now were coming from a place of stress, and he meant what he said. Tonight, when all of this was done, he had a plan in place. He’d make them dinner, run her a bath, and then spend the next handful of hours ravishing her so thoroughly that all memory of wedding annoyances would flee her mind. His body hardened at the thought of what he would do with his gorgeous mate, and a low growl emanated from his chest before he could even think to stop it.

“Oh really?” she asked, her initial surprise at his claim soon giving way to lust and want and need that burned hot in her green eyes.

“Aye. We’ll have no wasted days, love. And since this first part might be fatiguing, we’ll have to see to it that the rest of the day is exactly what we want.”

Though they were out in the open and just a few steps from her parents’ home, Killian couldn’t resist running his hands along Emma’s body, and he reveled in the moment where she shivered, as a thrill of anticipation rolled through her. Her eyes dilated, and she wet her lips absentmindedly, and with such an invitation he couldn’t help but steal a taste of his own. When their lips met, he nearly groaned out in relief. Yet though it was painful to break apart so soon, he eventually had to pull back so that they could face the morning’s responsibilities.

“Okay, you win. But the second we can get away with leaving, we’re out of here, got it?” He nodded, prompting a light laugh from Emma before her eyes took on a thoughtful quality. “If we’re lucky maybe we can round up everyone else and have a cookout or a bonfire, then we can get to whatever it is you’ve got planned, which I’m sure will be perfect.”

Killian readily agreed, knowing that as much as Emma loved him, she also loved her friends who were more like family than anything else. He could never resent that, in fact, he embraced it, and he was just as eager to see them and Liam and Ruby. A night with their friends would be well deserved after all of this, he was sure, and he was glad for their new plan as Emma slipped her hand in his again and they made their way to her parent’s house. But as they walked up the front pathway, they heard a booming noise come from the backyard. It sounded like a huge fuse system had just been detonated, followed swiftly by Mary Margaret’s excited voice:

“Oh, David! Isn’t it wonderful? It looks just like how I pictured it!”

“Oh Jeez, better see what she’s got going,” Emma said, pulling him around the house, and though Killian smiled at his soon to be wife’s sarcasm, his smile dropped as soon as they stepped in the backyard.

“What the bloody hell is that?” he whispered and Emma barked out a laugh. But it wasn’t a laugh based in humor. Rather, it was the sound of someone so startled and confounded that they were becoming a little bit manic. Killian could hardly blame her for the reaction.

Because there, staring them in the face, was a light display that was… well, fucking gigantic to put it mildly. It was taller than he and Emma, and it had their names on it along with about a hundred hearts. It was gaudy and loud, and Killian couldn’t imagine there was a building within twenty miles that was suited for such a massive sign. For the moment though it was perched up against the Nolan’s barn, and Killian just couldn’t wrap his mind around why or how it had even gotten there.

“Please tell me you didn’t buy that, Mom,” Emma said, loud enough for her parents to realize they were back here. David, for his part, looked almost amused, and most certainly relieved at Emma’s comment, but Mary Margaret seemed downright perplexed.

“Well no, it’s just a sample. Your grandmother thought it would be best to hold off on any actual purchases. The letters are interchangeable, and the company brought it over for us to take a look with just a small deposit. But it’s so beautiful. I mean, who doesn’t want their name in lights on such a special day?”

“Mom this is supposed to be a small, classic wedding, not a blockbuster movie premiere,” Emma stressed, and Killian was glad they were on the same page, but he knew they’d hit a wall when Emma’s mother’s face fell. She looked genuinely hurt, and Killian knew that would only bring pain to Emma.

“You’re onto something with the lights, though,” Killian said, squeezing Emma’s hand in a sign of reassurance when her head whipped around to look at him. “But maybe something smaller? Twinkle lights would be perfect, don’t you think?”

“Oh my God, you’re so right!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, shaking her head at the sign now as if she’d only just realized how horrendous it was. “Fairy lights would be amazing! Like stars, or fireflies. Oh, there’s so much we could do with those! I’ll call the company right now and let them know.”

“Mary Margaret, maybe that could wait?” David offered calmly. “Emma and Killian are here now. It’s probably best to ask them all your questions first.”

“Right. Good thinking. Anyway, I have some more things to show you guys…”

And boy did she ever. It might have been normal for Emma’s mother to produce a binder with ideas for her only daughter’s special day. But one apparently didn’t do the visions Mary Margaret had justice. She pulled up a large box in a surprising show of strength for someone her size, and from the view alone Killian could see at least six. Given the space inside the box, he would be there were at least a dozen binders in total, and when he looked at David to silently inquire if this was all, Emma’s father gave a slight shake of his head. Bloody hell, they would be here all week at this rate!

Over the next few hours the constant stream of questions and decisions remained ever-flowing. There was no slowing down and no breaks in sight, and Killian for one felt his energy waning. Emma was clearly having the same problem, and with each new query, she leaned against him a little more, her face showing signs that she was more and more fatigued. Indeed, the only person with the stamina for this kind of festive frenzy was his soon to be mother in law. No one else even came close, but none of them had the chance to get off the ride. It just kept going on and on and on.

“So I spoke with the florists and after a little cajoling I finally got them to guarantee any and all arrangements we deem fit. At first they tried to tell me that certain flowers weren’t ‘in season,’” Emma’s mother explained while making skeptical air quotes. “Which is, of course, ridiculous. But eventually they came around. I just need to know what you guys think. I’ve got ten design options for you both to consider -,”

“Wait, ten?!” Emma asked, interrupting her mother who had pulled out her forth binder of the day, aptly labeled ‘Flower Ideas.’ “Mom, you can’t be serious. This is so much work, just for flowers for one day?”

“They’re not just for one day, Emma,” her mother said, sounding almost wounded at the insinuation. “This is going to be one of the most magical days of our life!”

Emma’s father chose that moment to return with water for all of them, after excusing himself from a very lengthy conversation about table settings, and though Killian could see that he wanted to laugh at his wife’s unending enthusiasm, he held it in, and instead cleared his throat and gave Mary Margaret a knowing look.

“I think you meant Emma and Killian’s life, right honey?”

“Well I actually meant…” Mary Margaret looked liable to contradict that statement, but then she read her husband’s face and understanding seemed to dawn on her. “Uh, right, absolutely. It’s your day, one hundred percent. But what you’re forgetting Emma is that while we might only get a few days with the flowers, the pictures are forever.”

“And the memories,” David agreed, coming to sit by his wife and smiling as he took her hand. “No matter how much time passes, it will always be with you. The day you say ‘I do’ to the person who means the most is one of the best you’ll ever know.”

It was heartwarming to see Emma’s parents be so much in love all these years after they had found each other and promised each other forever. Undoubtedly, their love was strong, so much so that Killian believed it rivaled what it felt like to have a fated mate. Who knew? Maybe they actually were mates, but they just didn’t have that precise bond because David’s shifter self had always remained separate from his human soul. Either way, Killian looked to Emma’s parents as an excellent example of what true love and commitment looked like. They were a partnership that was patient but still passionate. Sometimes they acted like kids still, and there had been more than one moment where Emma was embarrassed at how in love her parents still seemed to be, but they had the beautiful benefit of age and a life spent happily together. They were tied together in the best of ways, both standing tall alone, but shining brighter as a couple.

“Okay that is admittedly very sweet, Dad, but you’re not distracting me from this. She just said she has ten choices. As in double digits! And I’m willing to bet anything that’s just for one part of the wedding. There are definitely multiple arrangements, and these ten don’t even cover those, do they?”

Killian bit back a groan when Emma’s mother nodded, but it helped that she at least had the sense to look guilty for the first time all day. For Emma though, this seemed to be a breaking point. Killian felt her tension rise to a new high, and she stood in her chair suddenly. They’d been holding hands throughout this, and she seemed like she might let go, but Killian didn’t want that. Instead he rose with her, and when she looked at him he silently conveyed that whatever she wanted to do, he would back her up. She looked relieved and then directed her frustration back at her mother.

“Look, Mom, I know you mean well, and I love you, I really really do, but this is just getting ridiculous. We’ve been here for hours, answered a hundred questions, and I don’t think we’ve even made a dent in your planning. At this rate I’d honestly rather go to city hall today, with no muss and no fuss.” Despite the fact that her mother audibly gasped and raised a hand to her chest dramatically, Emma continued on. “Because it’s not really about the flowers or the lighting or the silverware, Mom. This wedding is about Killian and I spending the rest of our lives together.”

Emma’s words filled Killian with pride. Yes, he knew Emma’s mother would be hurt in some ways by the sentiment, but it made him happy to know Emma felt as he did. The wedding itself wasn’t the focal part of all of this. It was the marriage and the union between them that mattered most. In his heart, they were more than married already. Mates were forever, in this life, and any lives hereafter. But he did want the traditional human component too. He wanted everyone to know he belonged to Emma, and she belonged to him, but he agreed that the rest of the details, as nice as they may be in the end, didn’t hold nearly as much weight in his eyes at all. Still, as stern as Emma was being right now, he also knew that city hall wedding would never happen. This would all get figured out. It was just a matter of when and how.

“Perhaps we could just take a moment. I think a walk would do us some good,” Killian offered, looking to David for back up. Clearly a little space could be of some use, and David immediately understood.

“I think that’s a great idea. And we’ll be here, whenever you two are ready.”

Emma nodded in agreement, and the two of them set out farther behind the house where Emma had grown up. Despite the agitation that had just been facing them, there was no denying the beauty of this home. As he gazed upon the garden and the lush green land all around, Killian thought of what it must have been like to grow up here. Emma had such good things to say about so much of her childhood, and knowing her as he did, Killian could just picture how it all was. She’d have been here, happy, and peaceful and carefree, reading her favorite stories under the willow tree, running around with her little brother in the open field, and imagining whole new worlds with Anna and Elsa. Though he’d seen pictures, Killian didn’t need them to recall some of those memories. Their being mates meant their souls were intertwined, and so Killian could look upon this place and practically feel the happiness that his love experienced here. It calmed him to be in such close proximity to good feelings, even as the aggravation Emma carried from before still lingered.

“I hate to be angry with her,” Emma admitted, when they’d come to stop under the giant willow that defined this back-yard space. Underneath the hanging greenery, they were sheltered away. A natural curtain separated them from the world, and that barrier seemed to help Emma speak the thoughts that troubled her mind. “I love my Mom, and I love the life she and my Dad game me here. I never wanted for anything. Not for a long, long time.”

Emma’s eyes softened as she looked around this spacious, canopied hide away and Killian followed suit. The tree was old and majestic. It sang a soothing song when the wind cut through the leaves, and it was cool here, shaded by an entity that signaled strength and peace. It was immediately apparent that Emma was familiar with this spot, and Killian imagined she must have come here countless times before. Picturing a young Emma automatically made Killian think of their future children, and more specifically the child on the way. Not that he’d ever really forgotten, but still the rush of remembrance coursed through him in the best of ways. Instinctively, his hand come over where their child was now growing, and Emma hummed out a sound of contentment as her own hand came to cover his.

“There’s no denying that your parents have given you all that they could, Emma, and I hazard to guess that that is what your mother wants now too.”

“I know that. I do, Killian. But the problem is that when we use up all this time on these tiny, seemingly unimportant things, I feel like it’s a waste. Spending time with my mother is a blessing, I know, and there are parts of a wedding we should share, and will share that will bring us both joy, but this roaming around in the weeds thinking about party favors and which specific brand of tea lights to use isn’t that. Time is precious, life isn’t guaranteed, and I want all of us to make the most of every moment we have. Even if I do believe we’ll all have years of them to come, I just…”

Emma trailed off, her eyes casting away from his as she struggled to find the words. Again Killian felt the intensity of their mental link together, and he knew, without having to ask, that she was thinking of his mother. Time was the one thing his mother never had enough of, and knowing that life could be cut short like that made Killian of the same mindset. There was no need to be wasteful. If they could all be happy, then they should chase that, and since his happiness was irrevocably tied up in Emma’s, Killian was determined to see his mate made brighter.

“You just don’t want to live with regret. You don’t want to wake up one day and think that you should have done something different. You want to realize what’s most important while we’re living it instead of after the fact.”

“Exactly,” Emma said, closing her eyes and sighing into him, taking comfort in his instinctual reaction to wrap her up in his arms. “God why can’t you just do the talking? You’re better at it than I am.”

Killian chuckled at that, and when Emma opened her eyes again, they were filled with humor of their own, because they both knew that would never work. He might sometimes have some insights into how to turn a phrase, but between the two of them it was Emma who often saw the way forward. She was as brilliant as she was beautiful, and she had many opinions, all of which he cherished. Still, he understood her meaning now, and he tried his best to offer some solution.

“I think the best way forward is to make your boundaries clear, love. If you only have so much you want to engage with, then that’s what we tell her, and maybe she’ll be even more pleased to plan the rest of it herself.” Emma considered his suggestion, but still looked skeptical. “Of course we would be clear that there are limits.”

“Uh yeah, that’s a must,” Emma replied and Killian smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple as she leaned back against him.

“But your mother, at the end of the day, is a reasonable woman. She knows you have a lot going on. You have work, your friends, the baby…”

“And you,” Emma whispered, looking back to him with a smile.

“Aye, and me. Always.”

The promise was one he had made countless times and meant with all his heart, but this time it moved Emma to a degree that she shifted in his arms, straddling him where he sat before she pulled him in for a feverish kiss. In seconds they were riled to the same place, thoroughly forgetting the world around them. Killian pulled her closer, relishing the way her body writhed against him as her hands clung to him. Close was never close enough for the two of them, and when they were together like this, all outside noise fell away. All that mattered was that they were together, and that in each other they’d found a spectacular new life and love. It was so transcendent to have these moments wrapped up together like this, but then Killian heard the sound of footsteps coming up the gravel path and he pulled back. Emma still appeared dazed from their kiss, her eyes foggy with feeling, and her lips full from having been thoroughly devoured. But in a few moments she caught up with his reasoning, and instinctively she jumped up, straightening out her summer dress before pulling him to his feet just in time for the willow leaves to rustle.

“There you kids are,” Emma’s grandmother stated as she walked under the canopy. “I was wondering where you’d wandered off to.”

It was still very strange to Killian to even think of this woman that way, given how young she was. She looked closer to Emma’s age than she even did her son’s, but appearances had done nothing to lessen her love for David or for Emma. It was clear that time had little impact on Ruth’s devotion to her family. Over the last few weeks she’d been playing catch up on all the years she missed, but already she blended with this tribe of people. And she was dedicated in her role as caregiver. Killian had noticed how loyal she was and how she was determined to smooth things over whenever she could. She appeared to have a magic touch with these things, and Killian began to hope that maybe she could intervene somehow in all this wedding planning.

“How did you know we’d wandered off?” Emma asked curiously and Ruth smiled and shrugged.

“It was only a matter of time, honey. Anyone who knows you and your mother had to see this coming a mile away. She’s a lovely woman – the best partner I could have picked for my son, and the best mother to my grandbabies – but she’s also on a whole different frequency. She’s got so much energy and so much enthusiasm. Well, it just washes everything else away, doesn’t it?”

“It’s exhausting,” Emma admitted and Ruth took Emma’s hand, patting it affectionately.

“I know it is. You’ve done brilliantly trying to keep up, Emma. But I think this is where we put our foot down. I’ll speak with your mother, and we’ll get this all settled.”

“Oh, Grandma, you don’t have to. It’s okay, I can -,”

“Nonsense. It’s my job to protect you, Emma, and right now you’ve got more than enough on your plate. Besides, we both know this might get a little awkward, and I don’t want you or Killian getting in the crossfire. Your mother will come around, but it might take her some time, and better that she be annoyed with me than with you.”

Emma and Killian tried to argue, insisting that they could handle it, but Ruth would hear none of it. Seemed stubbornness was a bit of a family trait, but as she led them back to the yard where Emma’s mother and father were waiting, Killian couldn’t help but feel relief. It was a weight off his shoulders to know that Emma would have an advocate, and though he would have risen to the challenge without any hesitation, he was grateful that it wasn’t him or his bride to be that had to face Mary Margaret’s impending displeasure.

“Mom, I didn’t realize you were here. I thought you went into town for the day,” David said as he saw Ruth leading Killian and Emma back. He stood from his chair, giving her a kiss on the cheek, and she beamed up at him, her hands patting his shoulder affectionately.

“And I did, for a little while. I thought it best to give everyone their space while you did your planning, but I think it’s time I stepped in now. Don’t you?”

The look of shock on Emma’s father’s face was actually rather funny, so much so that Emma giggled softly beside him. Killian looked to her and the light in her eyes said that her grandmother’s approach was helping. She might still be worried about her mother’s reactions, but she wasn’t as anxious or apprehensive as she might have been otherwise. This was a blessing, since stress wasn’t healthy for Emma or their little one.

“Now, I know there is no one more capable of putting together a wedding to remember than you, Mary Margaret,” Ruth said, with real appreciation, “but I think that the best thing we could do for Emma is to make things very easy. If I’m understanding correctly, there aren’t many things Emma really feels strongly about, right?”

Emma nodded, and let out a sigh of relief at how quickly her grandmother had understood her. Killian felt just as calmed by Ruth’s insightfulness, and he watched in amazement as she continued to press forward, working to convince Emma’s mother of some necessary change.

“So why don’t we do this: let’s get the details that matter to the kids and let’s get a list of absolute no-nos as well. That way we have a general idea of what they want and what they don’t want, and we can build them their magical day as part of our gift to them.”

“Us?” Mary Margaret asked surprised. “Like you and me?”

“Yes, I mean if you’ll have me,” Ruth said, offering her hand to Mary Margaret who took it eagerly. “I know it’s not the same, but I’ll always regret the fact that I couldn’t be part of your and David’s special day. This will give us a chance to make some of those decisions, and it’ll help Emma have some peace of mind while she gets ready for her marriage and her baby. She’ll still be involved, but not so hands on, and together we can make something absolutely beautiful that still falls within reason.”

Emma’s mother looked really happy at the thought, until those last few words popped up. Then she tossed a look at David, before replying to his mother. “I don’t tend to do very well at the ‘within reason’ part.”

“That’s okay, we’ll figure it out together, and we’ll keep Emma and Killian updated as much as they want.”

It was amazing to have witnessed this delivery of an idea. Ruth had only been in their lives for a few weeks, but she had a means of talking to all of them in a way that convinced them to see reason and to be empathetic to others. For the first time, Killian felt like Mary Margaret really understood that this was more of what Emma wanted. It dawned on her that Ruth was right. Emma had lots of other things to be thinking of, and fighting with her mother would only add to an already full plate. At the end of the day, Mary Margaret clearly didn’t want that for her daughter, and she was the kind of mother who would do anything for her children.

“Is this okay with you, Emma? I don’t want you to feel like I’m planning your whole wedding. It’s your day, and I know I can be controlling and opinionated -,”

“Let me stop you there, Mom,” Emma said, coming around the table to sit beside her mother. “I appreciate that you want this to be what I want, but I think grandma Ruth is onto something. Killian and I only really care about a handful of things. I want to pick my own dress, Killian and I want to choose our first song, we want to get married here in Storybrooke, and we want to get married soon.”

“How soon?”

“Before the summer is over,” Emma said, looking to Killian who grinned and nodded.

“All right, and the rest you want to leave to me?” her mother asked and Emma smiled.

“I do. I know our tastes can be different sometimes, but you know me, Mom. I trust you to create not just a beautiful wedding, but one that represents Killian and I. Grandma’s right. There is no one better to plan that then you, and it’ll be a lot less painful of a process if you just follow your own thinking and can go at your own pace.”

Everyone waited with bated breath to see if Mary Margaret would actually respond well to this new idea. There was a chance she might still feel slighted or upset, but when her face lit up with a genuinely happy smile, Killian and Emma breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed they’d actually managed to handle this, and they owed so much of that new found peace to Emma’s grandmother. With a few more quick, overarching questions, about colors and basic thematic elements, the five of them were done and Killian and Emma were left wondering what to do with the rest of their day. Before they had a chance to decide, however, an unexpected party made up of their friends and the rest of their family walked through the back gates of the Nolans’ home.

“Surprise!” Ruby said with a mirthful grin as she wielded a large red pot in her arms. Graham was beside her, carrying at least four of his own containers in an attempt to ease Granny’s load, and behind them were Anna, Elsa, and Liam who all held their own unanticipated offerings too. “It’s a beautiful day, and we were thinking it might be perfect for a barbecue.”

“What a great idea!” Emma’s mother agreed. “And your timing is brilliant. We’re just finishing up.”

“Oh I know,” Ruby said, reminding them all that her visionary gifts often came in hand in cases like this. “It was touch and go for a bit there, but thank god for Grandma Ruth, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Emma agreed, as she grabbed some of the supplies Ruby and the others brought with them before she turned, with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “Oh wait, actually you do.”

Killian watched as Emma laughed with her friends, a group which now thoroughly included Ruby. It was like they’d been close for years instead of only a few months, and the four of them were predisposed to sharing only good moments together. Ultimately, they went into the house, all of them clearly well pleased with the way the day was turning out, and that was all Killian could ask for. Before she was fully inside Emma tossed one last smile his way, and he grinned, glad that despite how rocky things had been before, his love was now in a much better place.

“You look happy, brother,” Liam acknowledged as he approached and Killian nodded, knowing that Liam’s comment was by no means inaccurate.

“No happier than the Sherriff here,” Killian said motioning to Graham, who walked beside Liam. “Surprised to see you here, Graham.”

“Why would you be? Tink can handle the town well enough on her own. And Ruby is here, so I am too.”

“Sorry, I should have been clearer. I meant I was surprised to see both of you. Ruby hasn’t been uh… let’s call it sociable of late.”

“Aye,” Liam agreed, immediately joining in on Killian’s ribbing of their cousin’s new mate. “It was made clear as day after Ruby helped Elsa cast her spell that you’d both be taking a long, long time away.”

“And we will be,” Graham said confidently, his eyes sparkling in a way that so equally matched Ruby’s it was no surprise they were mates. “But things need to settle first.”

“Settle?” Killian asked. “How much more settled can they get?”

“Beats me,” Graham replied with a sigh. “But my girl knows what she knows. She says soon, but not yet, and I have to trust she knows best.”

Killian respected that response and figured that he and Liam had given Graham enough grief. He was family now, after all, and there was nothing more worth protecting and preserving than family. “As to your original question, brother, you’re right. I am happy. I’m happier than I ever believed possible, and I have a feeling you share my sentiments.”

Liam nodded, his own smile still more reserved after years of the emotional drain that had been caused by his sickness. Since Elsa completed the magical bond between them a a couple of weeks ago, Liam had been rapidly on the mend, but Ruby assured them all that it would take time for Liam to be truly acclimated to something like normalcy again. Not that being magically bounded to a witch who was also your mate was normal, per se, but Killian still understood the meaning.

“I only wish Elsa would rebound faster. What she’s been through to save me…” Liam trailed off, the burden of Elsa’s sacrifice clearly weighing heavily on him.

“Has the bonding not taken like it should?”

“No, it was seamless. Elsa saw to that,” Liam said with pride, and Killian bit back another smile as he waited for Liam to elaborate. “It’s just her sleep.”

“Ah,” Graham said, like it was suddenly so clear. “Well that’s easy, humans need more sleep than shifters. That means as much as you might want to keep her up -,”

“I’m not keeping her up,” Liam growled defensively, though Killian was past the point of being afraid of his elder brother’s actions. Despite being frustrated with the implication that he was the cause of his mate’s suffering, Liam was fine and not truly angry with Graham. “It’s her nightmares. They’ve been bad for the past week. She’s been restless, and even on the nights when I think she’s found sound reprieve, she wakes just as tired as when she went to bed.”

“Nightmares? Like the ones she was having before?” Killian asked and Liam nodded. “But I thought those were about you trying to find me or being her mate.”

“They were. These are different, but Elsa says the same darkness sticks with her when she wakes. Just now instead of waking up from blackness, she says she’s been seeing red.”

“Red?” Killian echoed, a sense of uneasiness creeping in at his brother’s confirmation.

“Brighter than blood, was how she put it.”

“Kind of a weird way of phrasing that,” Graham muttered, but Liam disregarded him.

“She says the color is unnatural, and that this particular hue seeps all through the dreams. Monsters with red eyes and a lust for blood. Some of them are trapped, and some roam the forest, searching for something, but all of them terrify her,” Liam said, and Killian felt a chill snap down his spine, a very real trickle of fear coloring his recently more stable world.

“Well damn, no wonder she’s tired. That shit sounds awful.”

“It does,” Killian agreed, almost without meaning to, his mind wandering back to his own remembrances of eyes that repulsive and frightening.

“Meanwhile I can do nothing to stop this. I’d protect her from anything the world over, but how could I possibly ward this off? I have no control of dreams, and it’s starting to drive me mad, which is probably only making her worse.”

“Does she think they’re visions?” Killian asked.

“How could they be? Red eyes? What shifter species has those? None I know of, and none we read word of in her family’s archives. No, I think this is a symptom. My lingering darkness is somehow spreading to her, but when we talked to Ruby she said that the future she can see still looked the same, and in that future we’re both healthy and well.”

“But clearly Ruby’s sight isn’t as infallible as we once thought,” Killian responded, and now Liam and Graham looked at him quizzically.

“Maybe not, but if she says we’re fine and she knows that for sure then certainly that means something.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Killian asked, his voice edgier than he intended. Liam’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“Come to you with the nightmares of my mate? I didn’t think it necessary. You and Emma have enough going on. Between showing her how to shift, preparing for your wedding, and the pup on the way, I figured you didn’t need the hassle. Besides, I know my Elsa. She would never wish to add more burden to Emma’s life, not after everything they’ve gone through.”

“They were scarlet,” Killian whispered, and Liam now looked thoroughly confused. “I’ve seen scarlet colored eyes on a shifter before.”

“You have?” Liam asked, immediately on alert. “Where, brother?”

“Boston. Emma saw them too.”

Killian recalled what he could of that night, though it felt like he had gone through the story a thousand times in many ways. It dawned on him as he was telling it though that Liam had never heard the full account, as least not from Killian or Emma, the two who had actually experienced that unusual night. Elsa must have heard it all, but now he wondered if Emma had included those little details. If she had it clearly hadn’t stuck with Elsa, but then again the idea of these eyes wasn’t horrible and gruesome until one saw them in the face of a snarling, ruthless animal.

Just as he’d finished explaining the still mysterious nature of the attack years ago, the back door burst open, and Killian turned to find Emma leading the women out of the house. Gone was her easy demeanor from before, and now it was replaced with worry, a worry that he immediately wanted to fix, but wasn’t sure how.

It’s not just dreams, Emma’s mind pushed towards him through their mated link, her face portraying the pain of accepting that terrifying though. Then she decided to speak aloud so everyone could hear. “They’re visions. Definitely visions.”

“Aye, so it would seem.”

“So much for normal, huh?” Emma asked in a whisper as she came to hold him, trying to find comfort in his arms when a new wave of fear had descended. Though he wished he could tell her that it would all be okay, and that there was no more pain or uncertainty ahead, Killian knew that likely wasn’t true. Whatever these visions meant, and wherever things were going, it seemed they had more darkness standing in their way. But he’d be damned if he didn’t fight it all off and overcome it for their future. They’d handle this, just as they’d weathered every storm up to now, and no matter what it took, Killian swore to himself and to Emma that he’d keep her and their family safe at all costs…

………….

Don’t shift. Don’t shift. Whatever you do, don’t shift.

The familiar voice in his head that belonged to his bear had been growing weaker day by day, increasingly drowned out by the menacing, discombobulated thoughts of something darker. Something ruthless. But tonight there was a desperation and a last display of strength behind his animal’s spirit that Kristoff hadn’t heard before. It was like a final cry of hope, but it felt useless to be hopeful here. Trapped as he was in this cage underground, ripped away from his home and the life he knew before, Kristoff had been losing more and more of himself during this stint in captivity. Whatever the man in the mask was pumping into his veins was slowly driving him crazy, but he had to fight. Even if it was inevitable, he’d fight with every fiber of his being before he’d ever sink willingly into this dark abyss.

“Ah, still trying to deny what must now come,” a voice said, sounding through the bars in an even, unelevated way.

He recognized it as the voice of the man who was in charge of this place. He was the one responsible for all this terror, and the tone of his words reflected that. He was cold, calculating, and yet self-satisfied in a way that made Kristoff’s skin crawl. A twinge in his voice spoke to malicious intent, and if evil was ever to incarnate into human form, this guy was definitely in the running for what it would look like.

“It’s all for nothing, of course. You will, ultimately, give in as all the others have. But I can’t help but wonder at your power when you do. You’re a grizzly, after all, one of nature’s largest abominations, and your resistance to this point… well I have to believe it’ll make your eventual surrender so much more complete. Yes, you’ll work fine. A weapon befitting the task at hand.”

“What’s so damn important?” Kristoff asked. “You keep talking about a weapon, and I can smell there’ve been others here, others you’ve tortured like me. What the hell is your endgame?

The man laughed, and the sound was toxic and scratchy, almost causing Kristoff to wince. Then he walked to the edge of the cage, his body mere inches from the bars as he sneered out a response. “If I had my way you’d all be dead. There’s no worth to shifter life. You are all nothing. Worse than nothing. You’re a plague, a plague brought upon the world to be remedied, and at last I’ve found my way to do just that. What I’ve given you is so much more than you can fathom, it would leave your feeble mind gasping for air to even conceive of it.”

“Try me,” Kristoff said, staring down his captor while doing his best to use his other senses to figure out a way out of here. He just had to get to the gate fast enough to kill this man. He must have a key somewhere, and once this ass hole was dead then maybe Kristoff could be free.

“We don’t have time. You’re ready for your final dose, your last descent, so to speak. You won’t withstand another injection. The sickness will take you then, and this will keep you in line.”

The man pulled a giant, bear sized collar out from behind his back, and even from this distance Kristoff could smell the dark magic attached to the thing. It smelled of death and decay, and it explained why Kristoff had sensed magic nearby. It was strange though - so far things here had seemed almost clinical, but maybe this monster of a man was more than human. A warlock perhaps, or -

“Either way, you should be grateful,” his captor snapped, drawing his full attention back to the fateful moment at hand. “For now you will help cleanse the world of its surest darkness. There’s just one thing left to handle.”

“And that is…?”

The question hung between them in the air, and his captor only smiled the line of his lips forming a menacing, malicious sneer. Then he pressed something on the other side of the wall that Kristoff couldn’t see, and the familiar sound of the floor giving out from under him prompted his body to spring into action. He sought to avoid the trap this time, but there was nowhere to go. He was caught, and before he could even begin to formulate a way out of this, he felt the sharp prick of the needle. He’d failed to stop this mad man, and now it was too late. His pulse was rushing, his mind became frenzied and unglued, and as reality faded into oblivion, all he was left with was a blinding, seeping, sickening sense of red.

Post-Note: So there we have it. Obviously, this is opening another can of worms, but I know a few of you mentioned in the beginning of the story that you were curious what the red eyes meant on the shifter that attacked Emma and Killian. I didn’t just forget about that, and it definitely wasn’t a throw away detail, even if it happened a long time ago. It’s been part of my larger story vision since the beginning. You’ve probably started to piece together some of the parts of the puzzle, but rest assured, next chapter will give a lot more clues as to what exactly is going on and what it all means for CS and the others. Anyway, as always, I am so appreciative of you all reading. It means the world to me to have you all continuing on this story journey with me, and I really hope you’ve enjoyed the chapter!

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cssns · 6 years ago

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Hello all!!!! It’s that time of year again! Time to get crankin’ for CaptainSwan Supernatural Summer 2019!!!!

That’s right! We had such a fabulous time and got so many incredible fics last year that we’re doing it again! The biggest change for this year is that we will have betas for those authors who want and don’t already have one! Sign ups will open January 25 and run through February 8. There are still FAQ’s and prompt ideas at the top of the blog for more information and inspiration. If you have any other questions or just want to chat about the event, send me an ask here or on my main blog @kmomof4. @winterbaby89 has agreed to come back as a mod and @hollyethecurious will also be joining us! So everyone get ready!!! Last year was incredible, and we hope this year will be even better!!!

#bring on cssns2019 #cssns 19 #cssns2019 #sign ups open Jan 25 #and run through Feb 8 #come one come all #its gonna be AWESOME!!!

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snowbellewells · 6 years ago

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Face to Face in the Broad Daylight: Chapter Six

{Chapter six is here in this sequel to my werewolf, alternate season two and beyond fic. This second story in the same universe partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, we have definitely gotten them into some new surprises and challenges, and of course Rumplestiltskin seems bent on slipping out of their control and back to his usual scheming and plotting. I left off at an intense place, and so I didn’t want to keep you waiting too much longer for this penultimate (I think?) full chapter...}

Previous chapters: Prologue // Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five

~~A million thanks yous once again to @branlovestowrite for the gorgeous story banner she created!

~~ And to the @cssns for the opportunity to turn this story idea into a reality!

~ chapter six: all comes down to this

The lake surface before her, over her two frightening opponents’ shoulders, continued to swirl and churn uneasily, quite obviously part of whatever rite was about to be performed. The sinister flashes of sickly greenish-yellow light drew her attention with lurid flair despite the more pressing threats standing right before her.

“W- What are you going to do?” Belle countered with as much gumption as she could manage, regardless of the reasonable fear that also gripped her. She lifted her chin, now that they were face-to-face, and she discovered - grateful for small mercies - she was free to move again and could at least stare down the man she had wasted so much hope and energy on, letting him know with all the venom a gaze could muster that she was finally aware; he was nothing more than the selfish coward he had always been. That didn’t make him any less dangerous, of course, and Belle had a stray moment of absurd pride in herself that her voice had only wavered once in speaking to him.

Morgana for her part, seemed to have lost interest the moment she’d gathered Belle wasn’t a magical threat or some unknown foe, had released her paralyzing unnatural grip, and taken a step back when Rumple moved forward to deal with his former maid, but Belle couldn’t comfortably take her eyes off the dark-robed and frighteningly cold-eyed woman for more than a few seconds. She could see the cylinder containing Merlin’s hat, just as it had been depicted in the source she’d found, idly held in the enchantress’ hand - and the power radiating from either the talisman or the sorceress herself, or quite possibly both, was so palpable it raised the small hairs on her arms, even without possessing any magical abilities herself.

Yawning and inspecting her nails for a moment, as if the fact that her conspirator was trying to decide the fate of an innocent right beside her was so common as to bore her, the woman finally flicked startling, almost violet eyes toward Rumple, raising a dark brow in question at his hesitation. “Well, are you handling this disruption or should I?” Her hand not clutching the hat slid from within the fold of her robe once more, unfurling toward Belle in a way that signalled only malicious intent, but Rumple gave a sharp shake of his head, arm jerking out to forestall her action. “You will leave her to me,” he spoke harshly, with as much command as she had ever heard.

Morgana huffed and turned back toward the lake, stalking away with the rigid poise Belle couldn’t help but liken with a shiver to the now-deceased former mayor and Evil Queen, only saying as she did, “Well, be quick about it. We cannot lose the hour.”

Belle’s heart almost regained a normal rhythm for a moment, and she readied herself to speak, knowing she might only get one chance to convince him or get him to see reason. He was only slightly less daunting than the powerful stranger, in that she did know some of his weaknesses, the regrets and hurts that hid beneath the beastly mask, and if he had lost all desire to fight off the evil within, then she could still appeal to a different area of his self interest. He had wanted to find his son for as long as she had known him, and he had a grandson right there who would surely accept him still if he only tried; however, murderous vengeance and a spree of unstoppable destruction would endanger both of those things she knew he still wanted.

Before she could put any of those things into audible words, however, Rumple drew even nearer, his eyes glittering with an unholy light. Though his skin was far from the glittering scales she remembered in their fairy tale world, and his suit was fitted to the normal human pawnbroker he meant to portray here, Belle was struck vividly by his likeness to the mad imp she’d once shared a castle with - the Dark One’s prisoner before she had ever been the Evil Queen’s. She was struck suddenly by the real danger she had put, not only herself, but she and Graham’s child, in and the sickening knowledge that if madness and lust for ultimate power had already overtaken his reasoning, then there would be no reaching him as she had hoped.

Indeed they were so close now, he was practically in her face. The look on his stony visage, sharp and uncaring as she had ever seen it, was completely at odds with the gesture of his hand coming up to stroke her smooth, fair cheek once more almost wistfully. She flinched at the touch, and he pulled away instantly at her reaction, the strange detachment vanishing and being replaced with disgust and outrage.

Both stunned Belle, as they seemed emotions more due herself than him, but the words he spat made her blood run cold - and cemented the error in judgement she had made in coming here. It had already been much, much too late for reasoning.

“You dare to recoil from me?” he hissed, the mere elder gentleman facade sliding from his features at last and revealing the hideous green monster that did indeed resemble a crocodile with razor-sharp teeth to devour, much as Killian had always said. “When you…” his chest almost heaved with rage and indignation, “you let that cur touch you and you’re carrying his mongrel pup?”

Belle stumbled back aghast at the venom for her unborn child, as stung as if he had physically struck her. Her mind reeled at the hatred he could have for a mere fetus of no threat to him and completely innocent of any ill or wrong, and she stretched her hand in an impotent protective gesture across her midsection as she gasped and stared at the unrecognizable man before her, no longer anyone she had ever known.

“You think I don’t see what you’re about my ‘Beauty’?” he gave the fairy tale appellation an almost mocking sing-song cadence as he made up the distance she had backed away, bringing them close once again. “You came here thinking you could appeal to the poor spinner who once tried to please you, who hoped to be “good” enough to make you happy, only to spare that lot of foolish heroes, the one you’ve replaced me with, and that abomination you carry within you. Let’s be rid of that delusion now… No deal.” He spoke icily, reaching toward her as she shook her head ‘no’, pleading soundlessly as tears of shock and terror streamed down her face, “Rumple, please,” she whispered brokenly, “don’t come any closer.”

Gripping her arm so that she couldn’t back away again, his clutch like an iron shackle at her wrist, Rumple’s other hand rested on the growing swell of her stomach, just above hers that still tried to shield the gentle curve from his touch. “Perhaps,” he murmured silkily, the calm resolve of deadly intent even more appalling than the unhinged rage and hurt had been. “Perhaps I should provide a demonstration of just how little any of those things you treasure, that you would hope to preserve, matter to me in the face of receiving my due at last.”

Belle was still shaking her hand in denial, trying to pull away frantic with desperation to free herself. It was all to no avail though, as his palm contracted on her stomach briefly, pressing firmly for a horribly long moment, and then he turned and strode purposefully back to his compatriot, who had been watching the whole exchange with fiendish glee once it had turned in the Dark One’s favor - almost as if she were sated by despair and anguish.

The scene before her blurred then, the effect of whatever Rumple had done creating a slight delay before it hit her and brought Belle to her knees. Her vision swam, the ground below and sky above spinning dizzily and exchanging places. A horrible pulling, tightening ache expanded from behind her naval out through the rest of her body, until she was falling to her side and curling in upon herself, every inch of her pulsing with pain.

And then she was screaming in utter agony, knew she was but still unable to stop, as if even her own reactions were now out of her control. All she knew was that her surroundings continued to dim and focused mainly on Morgana and Rumple’s legs as they stood by the rising whirlpool the lake had become, clearly continuing with their ritual, her inconvenient interruption of no further consequence.

Just as everything was about to fade away from her, she heard the unmistakable long howl of a wolf on the night wind answering her tormented cry. For that one second, she wasn’t even sorry that Graham must have woken to find her gone and followed her. Her heart panged in recognition, hoping she could see him before everything went dark. Her mind lamented brokenly on how foolish she had been to ever come here, and yet she waited on a held breath, still pained and terrified, but pricked more by conscience at the hurt her love would suffer if her rash actions had brought harm to their little one as well.

She knew Rumple and Morgana must have heard the warning cry as well, but her mind was too foggy and confused to focus on what they were doing from where she lay. All she saw, with grateful eyes, was a large, russet-colored wolf bursting from the brush above, near where she had been hiding not that long ago, and then plunging, teeth bared, to her side. Through her bleary, half-conscious perception, she found herself vaguely glad he was a wolf at that moment. It seemed so daunting, powerful - almost invincible to harm, even if not fully the case. True, both of these magic wielders he faced were powerful enough to be a threat to man or beast, but there was something solid, strong and intimidating, about the large lupine creature of old that Belle genuinely hoped would strike fear into the Dark One, down deep where he was still a coward at heart.

Once he reached the bottom of the slope, her wolf was at her side in seconds, a mere couple loping strides for the large animal’s ground-covering speed. Though his every quivering muscle was tensed and ready, his fur practically standing on end and a low growl rumbling constantly from the wide chest, the concern radiating off the man twined into the werewolf’s being was plain. Tawny golden eyes never left the witch and wizard before them, also braced for action - both sides seeming to gauge what the other might do - but his shaggy, reddish-brown ruffed head dipped briefly to nose at her forehead and brow, a cold, wet nose reviving her if just a bit. A concerned whine, so soft in the canine throat that Belle felt sure only she could hear it, let her know just how frightened for her he had been - and was still.

Trying valiantly, with pained and weakly uncoordinated muscles, she attempted to lift her hand and stroke his fur in reassurance, but her hand fell limp against the ground before making solid contact, and the tender way her wolf licked at the back of it resting on the dirt pained her almost as much as whatever Rumple had done to her. It was too late to stop the process they had set in motion, despite her efforts. She had tricked and hidden her intentions from him, and led Graham into danger anyway, even as she had tried to protect him from harm.

They both watched warily as Morgana turned back toward the churning body of water, lifting her hands and causing the eerily lit typhoon to rise above its banks in a menacing swirl, clearly reacting to her magical direction. “Isn’t that sweet?” Gold mocked, affording them one last cruel glance before holding up the cylinder as Morgana directed. Manic avarice lit his gaze as it turned indeed into the recognizable shape of a tall, pointed sorceror’s hat. “You will die here together, with your repulsive whelp. It was a heroic effort - foolhardy and pointless, but heroic nonetheless, dearies, I’ll give you that.”

Even as he turned back to his evil task, Graham appeared truly ready to spring and rip out the imp’s throat. The fact that one or the other of their enemies’ magic would no doubt strike him down before he could reach them, no longer seemed enough to hold the usually kind and gentle man back - not when his love and his unborn child’s lives were at stake. Belle looked up at him with tears in her eyes. If only she hadn’t thought she could handle this alone… If only she hadn’t been so stupid… If only...

Morgana’s resonant and chilling voice rose up over Rumple’s triumphant cackle of victory, her own soft sobs, Graham’s warning growl, and the whooshing of the rising waves towering over their heads now, chanting some incantation of what sounded like ancient rhyme. And then, before her spell could reach completion, everything seemed to happen at once. Behind them, scrambling down the same embankment with more cursing and less grace, came Emma and Killian - the pirate surprisingly in human rather than wolf form. All the same, they were there, flanking she and Graham and eying their adversaries for just one chink or weakness.

Belle wanted to stand to face them head on rather than lying in the dirt, but another blinding shock of pain ripped through her, curling her up even further and causing her to bite almost through her lip to merely whimper rather than scream in agony. Oddly, it struck her that even if they were too late to stop this ritual, if all of Rumple’s powers were unleashed again, they would still stand up to him together, and even if he took out the four - well, the five, of them her mind amended with a shudder - there were others on their side yet, and good would find a way. She had probably never sounded more like Snow or Henry, but somehow in this terrifying meeting with what might be their end, she somehow felt faith returning.

“Oh, how quaint,” Morgana simpered, “it’s the Savior herself and her own pirate knight.” She tilted her head slightly, as if considering them all like they were some sort of entertainment. With a dismissive gesture, she then levitated the cylindrical talisman, making it open and morph into the hat twirling in air. “You must know that you are too late to stop us, that soon you will be in the presence of an all-powerful Dark One, in the face of whom all attempts at resistance or control will be futile, and yet here you stand - as if it will do some good.”

As she spoke, the water crested even higher, towering over all their heads and the enchanted contents of the hat burst forth in multicolored light festooned across the sky above them like a new map of constellations.

Yet, in that unnatural glow, even as Rumple also laid the dagger on the ground beneath the levitating hat, making their preparations complete, a horrifying vision suddenly appeared before their eyes, not of Rumplestiltskin once more the cruelly green and glittering crocodile with sharp jaws wide to devour them, there is instead a terrible beauty. Morgana was the ultimate Dark One emblazoned with sudden clarity, silhouetted in unearthly flame as she reached out an unstoppable arm to crush them all. It was seconds from coming to pass, and suddenly Belle could see it unspooling with horrifying clarity. The sorceress, whatever her connection to Rumple, had never intended to aid him in cleaving himself from restraint. Instead, she meant to take his power for herself and full dominion over the realms as well. Just as her compatriot had needed the hat she could bring, she had needed his dagger to make her devious designs complete. This enchantress had somehow managed to convince the best manipulator Belle had ever known to believe she owed, or felt, some loyalty to him. Enough so that Rumplestiltskin had already laid down his jealously guarded weapon and protection in one at Morgana’s feet.

Without time to think, to plan, seemingly even to breathe, Belle knew what to do. It came to her with galvanizing certainty, a realization that rocked her to the core, even as the beams of power, like golden threads were streaming from dagger to hat to Rumple and back again over to Morgana as she chanted; a subtle, knowing gleam in her eyes now that the librarian was looking clearly. The beams looped and re-circled back in and out between the four points of contact, both villains finally distracted by their greedy focus on the brilliant light magic and the tendrils of the dark as well, coming off of Gold and from the dagger itself, then rising in ghostly wisps to intertwine in a mantle that seemed to lie about Morgana’s shoulders.

Time moved as if strangely delayed as Belle lurched forward unsteadily, still unable to rise fully to her feet and run for her goal, still almost blinded by the pain centered in her abdomen, she soldiered on, almost rolling and then pulling herself the last few inches forward, sheerly on the desperate strength of her arms and shoulders.

Her fingertips barely grazed the now quivering hat, even as the magic seemed to sense the last strands of power from Rumple himself and the dagger, now centering over Morgana, and also to fully enliven the ancient token. Graham saw where she was going and pounced forward, practically leaping over her prone form to keep the witch away from her. Emma swung toward Gold with her own hands up, magic flickering to life between them to ward him off as well if need be.

That proved unnecessary though, as Rumple cried out, an unearthly expression of rage, pain and bitterness when he discovered all too viscerally what Morgana had done and the extent of her betrayal. As the last vestiges of his power wreathed his former partner in crime, making her whole being glow insidiously, the hat sunk back to the ground, practically dancing upon the hard earth, shaking and moving so wildly from the amount of power thrumming between it and the Darkness’ new vessel - and it sought out more to drain from its surroundings.

“No!” the twisted imp wailed; no longer either smug pawnbroker nor controlling Dark One, but the poor, bent spinner so helpless and afraid of the world around him before magic had ever come into his life. “What have you done, you foul hag?! You’ll not even live to regret this.” Yet, even as he bellowed, his own self-maimed foot curled in again, his body bending weakly as he sought out the cane he needed not just as a dramatic embellishment any longer.

Gritting her teeth and exerting her last bit of strength, Belle managed to reach the tips of her fingers far enough to brush against the active hat. She was grasping at last chances, hoping against hope that she had timed her move correctly, that the villainess was too taken by the feeling of victory and the swell of power to notice a mere distraction as the last bits of both the Darkness and its magic settled upon her. Feeling the deceptively soft and inviting material of the hat’s wall, Belle bit her lip, said a hopeful prayer, and shoved the hat over to rest on its side, making sure to grasp the tip as she had seen detailed in her research, so that the opening, now seething as though it were a living and breathing thing, was pointed right at Morgana.

The sorceress’ unnaturally violet eyes landed on her then, widening in anger and zeroing in with a wicked shriek. “What are you doing, you measelly little girl? Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?” She made as if to stride forward and swipe the object from Belle’s grasp, but it was already too late. Belle had gotten the hat centered on their foe in time, and now Morgana was in its vortex, its sucking power already pulling at her robes and whipping her raven-dark hair about her head wildly, drawing her inexorably into itself.

“Nooooo…” the witch screeched, but she was already elongating in form, being swallowed up into the void of the Sorceror’s hat. Her final thwarted wail faded away slowly, even as Belle let her arms fall to the ground, nearly drained once more. But she couldn’t quite rest, no matter how much her body begged for it; they had to take this chance to be rid of the Darkness while they could - once and for all.

The foreseeable immediate threat gone, she sensed almost as much as saw Graham shifting back into the man she loved, already calling her name as he ran to her side. Emma was closer, kneeling beside her and asking where she was hurt, what she could do, even as Killian still flanked them both, eyes sweeping the area as if waiting for more foes to descent. She could hear Rumple in the background, groaning and snivelling, but Belle struggled to focus just one minute more.

There! Right by Killian’s boot, near the once more nondescript looking pointed cloth hat lying calmly on the ground, was the dagger. “Killian,” she gaped breathlessly. “The dagger, give it to me. Quick!”

Thankfully the pirate didn’t question her, merely bent, grabbed the item he had quested so long to hold in his hand, the means for his long postponed revenge at last in his grasp, and handed it over to her without even flinching. It reiterated the difference between himself and his nemesis, Belle realized later when she thought back over the whole thing, how he could hand over the one thing he had once most desired due to the judgement that something else was better and worth the sacrifice. It was the same reason he had shown up as a human, even if his wolf was physically stronger. He wanted to support Emma, in whatever way would help her most, and so had done what allowed him to be most fully by her side. It was a sort of strength and power Rumplestiltskin had never mastered for all the magic he had held in his fingertips… the ability to share oneself fully with another and drawn strength from the bond.

Gripping the dagger’s hilt tightly, feeling the cool edges against her palm, the satisfying weight of it, now that it would finally be doing what it had been forged for, one way or another. She raised it as much as she could, and plunged the tip into the hat. Sharp steel sliced through material, piercing deep, and she waited, breath held tightly, the blade going all the way through both sides of the hat and into the ground beneath, until slowly, with a thick black cloud spewing forth before rising and evaporating into the sky, the hat disintegrated into nothingness itself. The hat was gone, and supposedly, hopefully, so was the Darkness at long last. Though it almost seemed to much to trust might finally be true after ages of battle to conquer it.

Tossing the weapon aside, Belle heaved a sigh of relief, glad she finally felt as if those around her, those she loved, were safe. As she did so however, the pain and the weakness crept back over her, making her vision swim sickly again. Another violent throb of pain ratcheted through her, and she cried out in spite of herself, unprepared for the severity of it. She shivered, hardly registering that she felt as though she had gotten her legs in the water, even if that sensation made absolutely no sense.

“Belle!” she heard Graham’s hoarse tone call out to her in alarm, and then he was there, cradling her head and shoulder in his lap and begging Emma’s help; the only one of them who still had any sort of magic that might be able to fix whatever Rumple had done and was still wrecking havoc within her. It all seemed to be growing more distant and of less concern to her, as she let herself since back into her love’s comforting embrace. They were safe now, she thought, appeased from her own worry and self-recrimination with that knowledge.

And then all was quiet.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling @laschatzi @spartanguard @resident-of-storybrooke @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @ilovemesomekillianjones @revanmeetra87 @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @searchingwardrobes

#cssns 19 #cs au mc #ouat werewolf au #face to face in the broad daylight #chapter six #cs ff

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snowbellewells · 6 years ago

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@thislassishooked Oh wow, I am now so curious about Killian’s vow, what drove Emma to develop this cure, how he and Liam came to be adopted, how will he get to know Emma and win her trust, and so much more! You have really managed, in just one chapter, to get me completely engrossed and curious to keep reading this and to know what will happen next!

I immediately found myself hoping that Killian will be able to draw Emma out a bit. Her life at present seems so isolated and lonely, no matter how worthy her cause. Can he help her? Does he want her to succeed? What happens to he, Liam, his adoptive parents, etc if they are cured? Do they become human again, or do they immediately die because of how old they truly are. You’ve created such an intriguing world here, that nods to other vampire shows/stories I have seen, but gives its own twist too, which keeps me guessing.

Wake Me Up Inside (1/?)

Wow, the day has come. Thank you so much to @resident-of-storybrooke for her awesome beta skills and for being the cheerleader I never knew I needed. Thanks to @tennant-the-tigger for not one, but two amazing artworks. She really nailed it with those. And last, but not least thanks to the mods of @cssns for letting me include this fic.

Some of you have already read chapters 1 & 2 since this wasn’t originally a cssns fic so I’ll post chapter 2 very soon or you can cheat and use the AO3 link below ;)

Summary: Killian Jones has lived longer than any man has a right to live. Most would argue that what he was doing was not living, but merely existing. The day he lost his love was the day he lost the will to live, but instead of ending his life he inadvertently became the strongest being on earth and unfortunately indestructible. His mortal enemy followed him into immortality and craves the power only Killian possesses. With his brother by his side and the help of a quirky blonde hematologist, who makes him question whether he is ready for death after all, he will fight against evil, but more importantly, for the cure.

Rated: M for violence, language and sexual content.

AO3

Chapter 1

He kept his eyes glued to the sliding glass doors, scrutinizing every face that exited the biomedical research facility for the evening. He had a panoramic view of everything that went on around him from the tall oak tree he sat atop, but dusk was approaching and Barnett’s gang of misfit wannabe kidnappers would be appearing shortly and he was in no mood to establish dominance with one of his idiot underlings.

The traffic that had been flowing through the sliding doors had ceased, but two lights in the building were still lit, signaling his target was still in the building. He had been asked to keep watch over her nearly two months ago and she had been making it quite easy for him by keeping herself shut in until the wee hours of the morning. He settled himself in for another calm night, tagging every set of glowing eyes that were fixed on the building. Emma Swan was an enigma. She kept to herself as far as he could gather and staved off any advances from interested men. And there were plenty of interested men. Ms. Swan had grown into a remarkably attractive young woman. The last time he had set eyes on her she had been a gangly spitfire, barely a teenager. The woman she had grown into had glorious emerald eyes that were surrounded by illustrious golden locks, usually pulled back out of necessity. Her thick, too-long bangs that now framed her face always pulled his attention to her dark, long lashes that fluttered every time a colleague approached her. He determined, through his surveillance, that she did not like her research interrupted. She was, however, composed and considerate when forced to interact, and her associates were always met with a genuine smile.

Keep reading

#cssns 19 #captain swan au #cs ff #vampire killian #wake me up inside #chapter one #cs fic rec

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artistic-writer · 7 years ago

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Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) - CS Werewolf AU - Ch 19

Title: Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) by @artistic-writer artwork by @cocohook38 & @artistic-writer

Rating: E (overall rating) for explicit sexual content, language and themes throughout. Trigger warnings will follow and be added as they are needed to avoid spoilers.

Art by @cocohook38 - Poster - Emma - David - Killian - James - Walsh - Graham - Liam - Brennan - Ruby

Chapter Art by @cocohook38 - Ch1 - Ch2 - Ch3 - Ch4 (NSFW) - Ch5

Art by @artistic-writer - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Werewolf Sunday! Here is ch 19 guys - sorry it’s late but I am back at work now, and I forgot to queue it up!

Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @hookedonapirate who is one of the best beta’s this fandom has to offer - I seriously love her guys, and she deserves all the good things <3 <3 and @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted for her birthday and for creating the @cssns Thank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @courtorderedcake @doodlelolly0910 and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped with the last few chapters. And to @flipperbrain who drew THIS piece of art for this fic in December, before it was even written!

Taglist: @cssns @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat @teamhook @snidgetsafan @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness @lenfaz @therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones @bmbbcs4evr @blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan @onceuponaprincessworld @chinawoodfan @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair @cs-forlife

Want to be tagged/untagged? TELL ME HERE

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“To Graham and Ruby!” Brennan declared loudly, arm raised above his head and a small, glass tumbler in his hand. The amber liquid swirled in the glass, and the sound of ice cubes clinking the side of glasses echoed in their corner of the pub as Liam and Killian joined him in his toast.

“Graham and Ruby!” Liam echoed gleefully.

“To Graham and Ruby,” Killian repeated quietly, his voice a soft whisper next to his brother’s. He was happy for his friends, he really was, but he was also now sitting in a public place with his brother and his father, so his anxiety was a little spiked. He gave his father a suspicious sideways glance as he threw his head back and swallowed the rum in his glass, the burn of the liquid causing a warmth in the pit of his stomach.

Three glasses hit the dark wooden table together, years of grime evident in the thickness of the lacklustre varnish coat. It was patchy, shiny in places where others were dull and Killian tapped his outstretched arm at the spot next to his glass. His focus was on his fingertip, the nail digging into the soft table top where it really shouldn’t, and he ground his back teeth a little as a silence fell over their table.

“So,” Brennan began, twisting his body in the chair next to Killian’s so he was facing his son.

Killian knew what was coming and he held up his hand to cut him off, his pointed finger turning into a balled fist instantly. “Please, don’t apologise again,” he bit out.

“Killian,” Liam admonished, a frown on his face. “Not here,” he warned gently, scooting his chair forward under the table when a gaggle of humans sauntered past laughing.

“Look, Killian, you asked me here, remember? I can just as easily not be here.” Brennan looked to Liam for help with his wayward youngest, but neither had time to say a word before Killian snapped again.

“Oh, that’s what you are good at, isn’t it? Running away.” Killian slumped back in his chair, fist balling even harder on the table, leg twitching under the table and bobbing up and down on the ball of his foot.

“Okay, let’s all just calm down for a second. Shall I get us some more drinks?” Liam pushed himself to his feet, pausing to await Killian’s response. He was met with silence, his brother clearly haunted by not only his past but also more recent events.

“I’m not sure that would be wise.” Brennan shook his head, pointing at Killian accusingly. They had been in the pub some hours, firstly to celebrate the birth of Davin and then, once the excitement had dissipated, to talk over Kilian’s plan.

Killian had wanted answers. He was convinced his father’s mistakes could change his future, teaching him how to avoid the council and allow him to be with Emma. Only, his father had given him nothing more than the cold, hard realisation that the more he tried, the less likely it would ever be that he could be with Emma. Maybe if she was a lesser wolf, but the heir to Misthaven would never be able to simply disappear. “I think your brother has had enough,” Brennan whispered low, his words directed at Liam.

“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough!” Killian’s voice boomed over the table and the barman shot them a look. “Maybe you should get some more drinks, Liam,” Killian spat, waving an arm towards the bar. “Father might not return if he goes.” Liam sighed, rolling his eyes at his brother’s childish antics and gave his father a knowing nod before making his way to the bar. Brennan watched him go, his demeanour and patience for Killian wearing thin.

“Now, see here, boy,” Brennan growled, leaning over and grabbing Killian by the head. His hand splayed out over the younger wolf’s skull, fingers digging into the thin covering of flesh painfully, and Killian tried to pull away uselessly. “I’m sorry I don’t have the answers you want,” he growled into Killian’s ear, eyes flicking around the pub in case anyone was watching. “But if you want to play this little dominance act, then I would be more than willing to take this outside.” Killian gave his father a sideways glance, their ears touching, and Killian turned his head away from his father’s stare as best he could in his position. “Better,” Brennan said softly, loosening his grip.

“Get off of me,” Killian spat through clenched teeth, wrenching his head from his father’s grip.

Brennan cocked his head sideways, taking in his broken son. Scars, fresh and old, littered Killian’s body from what he could see, and his heart softened instantly. Brennan had known bigger, pureblood wolves with less marks than his son. Killian’s fury was justified, his frustrations even more so. Brennan understood how he just wanted to be with the woman he loved, he had known that feeling, but he also knew Killian was trying to distract himself from the mental scars of being tortured.

It wasn’t his fault. He was half human after all.

“Killian, I can help you be a better wolf,” Brennan coaxed. “Faster and stronger. You can protect yourself, for next time.”

Killian stifled a laugh. “I don’t plan on being tortured again any time soon.”

“Of course not, but…” Brennan didn’t have time to finish his sentence before Killian cut him off anger, his words venomous and spiteful.

“It’s clear you cannot help me with what I need, so stop trying to find ways to bond with me. We are not the same, we never will be. Liam might have forgiven you for breaking our mother’s heart, but you would have to really sacrifice to win my trust.”

“Is your hatred for me or Neverland right now?” Brennan asked gently, trying to pull his son out of his rage. “Or do you just hate wolves?” he suggested, watching Killian flinch at his words.

Killian looked up at his father, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he ground his teeth once more. He was void of expression, the cold, dark stare he was giving his father full of resentment that he couldn’t control. Killian’s inner wolf was channelling his rage and Emma had unlocked the beast, paving the way for his true nature to reveal itself, and whilst it was a human-like wolf for her, he seemed unable to contain his wolfish humanity right now. Killian had thought he was okay with his father, had thought he understood the reasons behind his departure, but as it turned out, he was no closer to being able to welcome him with open arms than he had first thought.

“The only pureblood I’ve seen you tolerate is Humbert,” Brennan sighed, waving a hand at Killian.

“He saved my life,” Killian growled defensively.

“He’s still a purebred, Killian. A big, bad wolf who has done his fair share of killing for his pack. He might have been your savior, but tell me,” Brennan pried, leaning forward until his elbows were resting on the table. He laced his fingers and licked his lips, eyebrows arching on his forehead. “Do you not see how we are all the same?”

“I’m nothing like you. You made Liam and I without a second thought. If you had cared, you would have just left our mother alone and not forced us into this life.” Killian’s cheeks flushed with his anger, pricking pink under his assaulting words, his voice low and even so only a Were could hear.

“So we’re all monsters,” Brennan surmised sarcastically.

“No, not all pureblood wolves are monsters,” Killian grumbled with a shake of his head.

“Of course,” Brennan nodded with realisation. “The Nolan wolf. Emma.”

“Don’t you say her name,” Killian challenged, looking his father up and down from across the table, sizing up his potential opponent for battle. “Blood doesn’t matter with us…”

“And it didn’t with your mother and I,” Brennan interrupted. “And yet, we were ripped apart. Forced apart by the powers that be, the powers that govern our kind.” Killian shot him another look, nostrils flaring. “Her kind, Killian. She is a pureblood.”

“We’ll find a way to be together,” Killian said defiantly. “I will not fail where you have. I will fight for love.”

“Listen to you. You think Nolan will accept you because his daughter loves you? You’re wrong, Killian, and you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I’m willing to die for love,” Killian said in a shaky breath, swallowing hard when his own words took him by surprise. “For some of us, love is more powerful than fear.”

“Is that what you think me leaving you, your brother and the woman I loved was?” Brennan snorted a laugh, slamming his hand down on the sticky table surface. “It wasn’t fear, my boy, it was sacrifice. I sacrificed my love, so that you could all survive.” Brennan’s ear tips turned red, something Killian knew that his own did when he was riled. “You may not believe it, but I love you, Killian. You are my son, and I love you.”

Killian was taken back by his father’s words, the air leaving his lungs and his face paling. He had waited his entire life to hear those words from his father, hear them actually spoken to him rather than in a general passing comment from his mother or brother. It shook him. He wasn’t ready to hear it. “Prove it,” he whimpered, his gruff voice shaking as tears pricked at his eyes. Brennan’s silence spoke volumes and Killian licked his lips, sucking in a defeated breath.

Killian pushed himself to his feet, stopping to look upon his father who was staring at his empty glass in contemplation. Of what Killian didn’t know, but he had given him enough of his time. He needed to get back to Emma, back to Liam’s loft and be with her, to make sure she was safe. He felt like only he could keep her safe but before he could make a move to exit the pub, his father grabbed his forearm and halted him in his tracks.

“Wait,” Brennan said desperately, flicking his gaze up to Killian with pleading eyes. The conflict on Brennan’s features made him frown and Killian titled his head curiously. “There is a plan,” Brennan began, his voice hushed. He tugged on Killian’s arm until his son sat back in his chair, just as Liam arrived back to the table with three fresh rums.

“What plan?” Liam asked dumbly, repeating the tail end of the conversation he had just walked in on.

“Hush, boy,” Brennan whispered gruffly, pulling Liam into his seat too. He leaned forward, chin inches from the grimy table top and both Liam and Killian mirrored his actions. “There is a plan to attack Misthaven,” he admitted, casting a glance around the bar in case they had been followed.

“What? When?” Killian demanded, sitting back up with panic in his eyes. If Misthaven was to be attacked, Emma had to know.

“Soon,” Brennan told him. “I’m sorry, that’s all I know.”

“And how can we trust a Neverland wolf?” Killian growled, wrinkling his nose in disgust and shooting Liam a glance. “After everything.”

“Killian, I didn’t know! Do you think I would have let him do those things to you if I had known you were his target?” Brennan bellowed, exasperated. “Walsh’s orders were to find the Nolan bitch but he got caught up in revenge. He has never stopped talking about how he would kill the wolf who gave him that scar.” Brennan's lips twitched into a proud smile that quickly faded away when he realised what he had said, and to who. “I didn’t mean…”

“Emma should know,” Liam insisted, distracting Killian from berating his father for his choice of words. Liam’s hand on his shoulder shook him roughly and he was confused for a second at Liam’s words. “She should go back to Misthaven.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “You’d both like that, wouldn’t you?”

“To warn her family!” Liam told him, irritated. “Family is important, Killian.” Liam stared at him, his blue eyes flecked with grey that spoke to years of knowledge that Killian would only hope to acquire. Liam was older and he had lived more, loved more and lost more than anyone he knew. “It’s why you can’t go with her,” Liam shook his head defiantly. “You have to warn her and then stay away, lie low.”

“Like hell I will!” Killian barked.

“He’s right,” Brennan piped up. “You will not be welcome at Misthaven. The alpha will kill you because of what you are. You’ll never be accepted.”

Killian looked between the two men, both fatigued and haggard, the lines on their faces from a combination of the sun and long years of worrying. Brennan most likely always worried about Killian, always wondering if he had survived his first change as Liam had. Wondering if he was as strong. Liam had aged through worrying for his brother, watched him try to find out who he was through fight after fight until his brawl with Walsh opened his eyes to his true nature. Killian had nearly killed Walsh that night, teeth stained red with blood as they had fled and Killian simply smiling with an arrogance that showed exactly how close his wolf nature was to taking over. It had chilled Liam to the bone at what his brother was capable of.

“I’ll take my chances at Misthaven. Can’t be as bad as what Neverland did to me,” he said sadly.

“Jesus, Killian,” Liam scolded. “Now is not the time to be stubbornly blinded by love, or lust, or whatever Emma’s heat is doing to you.”

“I’m not,” Killian bit out again.

“Then drop the hero complex and see sense!” Liam pleaded.

“This isn’t about being a hero, it’s about doing the right thing.” Killian pushed himself to his feet once more and straightened his jacket. “If you want to help, you’ll find out exactly when the attack is,” Killian said to his father, who nodded in agreement. “And help Graham get Ruby and Davin to a safe place,” he said to Liam. “If we can warn Misthaven before the attack, we could be spared.”

“This is madness,” Liam sighed into his hands, dragging his hands down his face. “David Nolan will never spare a mongrel. He exiled his own brother!”

“I have to try,” Killian said sadly, giving his brother a tight lipped smile.

Emma was beginning to worry. Killian had been gone for over three hours, talking with his father and Liam in a nearby pub. It was within walking distance but anything could’ve happened to him on his way back. Were they ambushed? Had Walsh finally found them? And why, after so long, had her lust not dissipated? Wolf heats were only supposed to last a few days at most, but it seemed Emma’s was hanging around.

And this time it was more intense than any before. It was definitely because of Killian, Emma had no doubt. From the second she had laid eyes on him in the bar, she was smitten. Using alcohol to lower their inhibition enough to fuck on his car was nothing, something she had done many times before, only this time it felt different. It felt real, warm, and she never wanted to feel any other way.

They were connected, Emma knew it and so did Killian. Whether they believed in the fates or not, there were just too many coincidences to prove their souls were anything but entwined. Emma could feel Killian all the time, his presence forever there, even when he was not. It calmed her a little to know she still felt him in the world, her heart beating in time with his wherever he happened to be, but her anxiety had been steadily growing as she awaited his return.

And it didn’t help that she was horny as hell.

When she finally heard the click of the door latch, Emma was on her feet and running to the door as fast as her legs would carry her. Killian had barely closed the door behind himself when he turned and was slammed into full force by Emma, all of the breath leaving his lungs from the impact as she jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hands were in his hair, her mouth sliding against his as he walked them back into the loft, hands cupping her behind and holding her aloft. There wasn’t an inch between their bodies, Emma flattening herself to his chest and moaning against his mouth when her nipples pebbled against the fabric of her blouse, her back arching for more friction and her mouth parting to invite his tongue inside of her own.

Killian’s mind was in a fog. Everything he had meant to tell her had disappeared the second he opened the door and was overpowered by her scent. Emma was everywhere, in every room and he was immediately turned on, his thoughts invaded by their antics earlier that day. He knew his anger from talking to his father would evaporate with her love, love he craved like the air he breathed. He had needed to touch her, needed to feel her, needed to see her, and now she was all over him, saying everything all at once without uttering a single word.

Killian’s legs hit the edge of Liam’s couch and he fell forward, dropping Emma from his grasp, her fingers scraping through Killian’s scruffy beard and her lips tearing from his. She just had the foresight to grab onto his belt, looping her finger behind the leather strap and pulling him with her, his arms flying out to stop his descent so he didn’t crush her. Killian clambered over the couch arm, a sly smirk across his lips as he captured her mouth once more, tongue begging for entry immediately. His hands found the edges of her blouse, buttons flying in all directions when he pulled the opposing sides apart. Emma squeaked in delight.

Eyes closed, her hands threaded through his beard once more; it was longer than when they had met, but not distracting from his stunning good looks one bit. Her fingers itched to touch his skin, but from her current position she was helpless, only able to find his elfish ears and give them a playful tug, her open mouth smile letting a short, salacious laugh escape against his. Killian raised an eyebrow, not breaking the kiss or opening his own eyes, not an ounce of distaste towards the way Emma was abusing his ears. In fact, he kind of liked it.

Killian awkwardly kicked off his boots, letting them fall to the floor beside the couch with the dull thudding sound of rubber against wood. Emma let her hands roam over his skull, fingertips dancing over the chords of his neck and across the width of his shoulders, his eager panting turning her on more than she had ever thought possible. Killian’s hands kneaded her bra clad breasts roughly, thumbs brushing over the hard buds beneath the padded lace and Emma hooked her bare feet into the back of his thighs in response.

Her hands found his belt, the clatter of metal the only sound they could hear other than their breathing, but as she tried to pull it open, Killian grabbed her hands. Emma was confused for a second, about to pull her mouth from his when, with a smirk, Killian raised her arms above her head and crossed them at her wrists, holding them both against the couch with one, powerful hand. Emma let out a little appeased sigh, her lungs screaming for the oxygen that invaded her chest when Killian slid his mouth from hers and began kissing her face.

He kissed her cheek, flushed red from her arousal, the flesh like lava under his lips. His kiss-swollen lips found her ear lobe and when he latched his mouth onto the bulb of flesh, all of the hair on Emma’s neck stood to attention and she arched off the couch with a moan. Her hands grabbed at his, trying to be free but not really at the same time because the sentiment it gave her to be controlled by a more dominant wolf was intoxicating. She bit her bottom lip, hips bucking up into his as he teased his lips down her neck and slid his searing hot tongue across her collarbone, gobbling up her bra strap with his teeth and pulling it over the curve of her shoulder.

Emma gasped, her nipples hardening even more in their padded confines, the material of her bra chafing against the peaks as she writhed and strained against his grip. She whimpered in her throat, swallowing a hard lump down that she had forgotten to until now. Her mouth tasted of Killian, the burn of second-hand rum hitting the heat in her stomach like a firework and igniting the throbbing sensation between her legs.

Finally, with his own guttural growl, Killian rolled his hips and ground his hardening length into the apex of Emma’s thighs. It was like a paradoxical relief for both of them, sating their needs only temporarily, both of them taking a second to let out a breathy sigh. Killian’s grip on Emma’s wrists tightened, his forehead resting against her shoulder as he fought to compose himself with a shudder after inhaling the smell of her skin.

“Exquisite,” Killian hummed, the taste of Emma dancing on his tongue.

Emma turned her head and pressed her lips to his forehead, the only part she could reach and Killian offered her a quick, wolfish grin as he followed the curve of her breast with his mouth, planting delicate kisses to her skin with each of her heaving breaths. He smirked against her skin when she whined in frustration, his nose dipping into the valley of her breasts and inhaling even more of her strong musk, the perspiration that had begun to form there transferring her pheromones directly to his senses.

“I am helpless when you are around, Emma,” Killian told her tenderly. “I could savour you forever.”

He took his time, dragging the tip of his nose across her breasts, from one to the other and back again, inhaling her, tasting her in his mouth from smell alone. He thrust his hips at her again, his other hand skimming down the side of her body until it reached her hip, pushing her into the cushions of the couch when she tried to buck her hips back at him. Emma pouted but then a devilish grin erupted on her face when Killian’s hand found his jeans and popped open the button, pushing his fly down and sighing with relief when his erection finally sprang free from the fold in his boxers.

“There’s my big boy,” Emma purred, tilting her head back up to meet his gaze and biting her lip hungrily. “So much for savouring,” she purred. Killian grinned, his tongue skimming over the ridges of his canines before he surged forward once more and kissed her hard. Emma felt her neck spasm from the force and she could feel the tingle of pins and needles down her elevated arms. Killian must have read her mind because no sooner had she shifted her weight beneath him to relieve the ache, Killian released her arms and moved both his hands to the waistband of her leggings.

“Mine,” he muttered against her lips, his tone dark and feral. It set Emma’s blood on fire and she was lifted effortlessly as he tugged her leggings and her underwear down in one go, his fingernails scraping the skin on her hip and making her cry out.

“I was getting worried,” Emma smirked playfully. “I was scared something had happened.”

“Hmm?” Killian hummed through a daze.

“You were gone so long,” Emma panted, frowning when she realised he had stopped undressing her.

In the next second, Killian was hit with a sudden remorse, remembering the information he had come back to relay to the half naked woman in front of him. The smell of Emma’s arousal, the sweetness like a refreshing, thirst quenching drink, pulled him in, clouding his mind. He was dizzy, drunk on the temptation between her legs already and with a frustrated growl and a last inhale, he stood and tried to ignore the pounding blood in his engorged member.

“What?” Emma asked quickly, concerned, propping herself up on her elbows. Her hair was a mess, wisps of flyaway blonde sticking out in all directions from static and her blouse hanging open loosely. “Killian, what is it?”

“I can’t,” Killian growled to himself, righting himself to his feet and turning from her with a blush. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, tucking himself back into his jeans and ignoring the way his erection still strained against his fly as he rebuttoned them.

“What happened?” Emma pried, pulling the edges of her blouse together to cover her bra. Her skin still buzzed from his touch, but something was wrong, something had happened and for a second she felt guilty about putting her own urges before anything else.

“I…” Killian began, his face turning into a grimace as he tried to will away Emma’s scent. It was everywhere, invading his nostrils like a temptation he feared he could not resist much longer.

Emma lifted her legs and moved to a sit, scooting to the edge of the couch cushion and reaching to the floor, pulling her leggings back on. They would never get any conversation finished like this, her so tightly wound and him even more so. She stood, raking her fingers through her tousled hair and shaking it over her shoulders, moving to him, feet silently padding across the wooden floor.

“Killian?” Emma whispered gently, her hands smoothing over the material of his shirt that covered his back. He gasped, tensing momentarily before he relaxed into her touch, her talented fingertips kneading the ripple of muscles on his shoulders. Emma pressed her lips to his back, the material of his shirt tickling her lips as she kissed his spine, her hands sliding down his arms and her fingers lacing with his. “It’s okay.”

“I can’t think straight,” he grumbled.

“It’s okay,” Emma repeated, soothing his self-directed anger as she wrapped her arms around his slender waist. “Have I worn you out?” She teased, pushing herself onto her tip toes and tucking her chin into the curve of his shoulder.

Killian’s laugh vibrated through her chest as she embraced him, his hands finding hers and holding her to him lovingly. “Not a chance,” he quipped. “I have something to tell you and I think it would be better received if we were clothed.”

“Oh?” Emma pulled back a little, heels hitting the floor with a thump as she arched her brow. “Will it lead to more enjoyable activities?” Emma teased, her smile lighting up her face only briefly before Killian turned in her arms and she felt the pang of sadness he was emitting.

“Not this time, love,” Killian admitted sadly. He took her hands in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles and watching the motion of his digits intently.

He was nervous, but more than that, he was petrified of the words he was about to say. Emma would want to return home to warn her family, he knew that much was a fact, but he wasn’t sure how she would react to the news that he had already decided to go with her. He knew it was a death sentence, his brother’s warnings had not fallen on deaf ears, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Emma, his half of the moon, and making sure she stayed shining as bright as she could.

Killian knew, with all his heart, Emma’s light would burn out if her father died. It was why he was willing to sacrifice his own life for hers. His life for her happiness. Killian knew he would never forgive himself if he didn’t tell Emma about the plot to attack Misthaven. She had a right to know, to be given the chance to stop it, and he would be there, fighting at her side, regardless of if he were welcome or not.

“What is it?” Emma asked worried, searching his face. “Killian, you can tell me anything,” she assured him softly, her hand reaching up to trace the outline of his brow, easing the tension.

He let out a nervous laugh, avoiding her gaze again. “I’m not sure there is any easy way to say this,” he faltered, swallowing hard.

“Killian, you’re scaring me,” Emma said, her face paling.

“It’s Misthaven,” Killian said, the word on his tongue already like the seal on his fate. “Neverland plans to attack Misthaven. James means to kill your father, Emma.” Killian looked up finally, Emma’s pupils wide and the edges of her eyes watery with tears that threatened to spring from her eyelids.

“How do you know?” She managed weakly.

“My father,” Killian told her with a slight hint of aggression. “He is trying to make amends, prove he loves me,” Killian bit out, the term of endearment striking anger into his heart. Emma gave him a confused look, her head shaking a little as she tried to fathom his words. “It doesn’t matter,” Killian dismissed his rant with a shake of his head. “I came to tell you as soon as I found out.”

“When?” Emma managed, dazed with anxiety.

“We don’t know,” Killian admitted sadly.

“You don’t know?” Emma screeched, stepping from his embrace and running her hands through her hair. She paced away from him, Killian’s heart-shattering.

“My father is trying to find out,” Killian assured her, trying to appease her stress.

“Can we trust him?” Emma spun back to face him and he answered her with silence. He had been asking himself the same question all day. “He is a Neverland wolf, right? Why would he tell us something like this?”

“I can only assume he feels guilty,” Killian shrugged, moving towards her and catching her as she paced past him. He wrapped her up in his arms, holding her to his chest and that was all Emma needed for the dam of sorrow to burst, hot, fat tears spilling down her cheeks. She buried her face against Killian’s chest, clutching the material of his shirt, her hands shaking as sobs wracked her body.

“This is my fault,” she cried.

“What? Absolutely not!” Killian told her firmly. “This isn’t and will never be your fault, Emma, you hear me?” He pulled her from his chest, clutching her face in his hands and dipping his head until he caught her gaze. Emma clutched his hands to her face, suddenly child-like and weak, and Killian titled his head sideways sympathetically. “You hear me?” He repeated softly, offering her a twitch of a smile when she finally met his gaze.

Emma nodded. Killian had the ability to calm her instantly, smoothing out the tension in her bones with a single action. It could be his touch, or his smile but it was always him. Part of Emma’s sadness was the realisation that their romance was now no longer fun, the true nature of their dangerous liaison hitting her like a truck. If she wanted to stay with Killian, she could, but they would forever be looking over their shoulders for Walsh or the Neverland pack. If she returned to Misthaven she would have to do so alone and she wasn’t sure which option scared her the most.

“I can’t lose you,” Emma sniffed, her hand sliding from his and flattening over his chest. Killian’s heart was racing in his chest, she could feel it thundering against her palm, because he was thinking exactly the same thing.

“You won’t,” he said softly, his voice cracking.

“I have to go home,” Emma whimpered.

“I know,” Killian barely whispered back, his forehead resting against hers. She let out another heart wrenching cry and his closed his eyes, fighting back his own tears that would stain his face at any second. He took a breath, the air between their faces minimal and with shaky lips, tilted his head and planted a soft kiss to Emma’s lips. “I’m coming with you.”

“What? No!” Emma cried. Killian nodded, holding her forearms as she tried to step back away from him once more.

“I’m coming with you to help your father,” he told her, affirming the fear on her face.

“Killian…” Emma began, shocked.

“I know,” he said softly, licking his lips. “But I can’t let you go alone. When the time comes, I have to come with you.”

“But, my father.” Emma didn’t have to say anything else because they both knew what it meant for him to even set foot on Misthaven land, let alone show up with the heir on his arm.

“It will be okay,” Killian lied, forcing a weak smile. “Family is important. I can’t in good conscience risk yours knowing I could have done something.”

“So is love,” Emma said on a breathy sigh. “Our love is important.” Her lower lip trembled as she looked up to him with wide eyes, blurry and filled with tears that never seemed to end. Dark lines stained her face and Killian cupped her cheeks in his hands, brushing away the fallen droplets with his thumbs.

“Our love is the most important thing in my life,” Killian told her tenderly, fingers tucking some stray hairs behind her ear.

“So stay here,” Emma pleaded. “Please. I’ll come for you when I’ve warned my father.”

Killian appreciated her attempts at trying to find a solution, but he had already been over the scenarios a thousand times in his head, and there was no situation he could think of where David Nolan accepted him. Not a single one.

“We both know your father will never let you return to me,” Killian sighed sadly.

Emma’s sobs began again and she threw herself into his arms, hand finding the back of his head and pulling his face to hers. She crushed her lips to his fiercely, kissing him desperately as even more tears fell down her face. He kissed her back, his despair etched into his cheeks by his own tears, lips quivering against hers. There was so much emotion in their kiss but they moved slowly, lips sliding gently with passion, breaths hitching from their sobbing like they might never get another chance.

“He’ll kill you,” Emma whimpered, her voiced lace with the most sadness Killian had ever heard.

“He can try,” Killian teased lightly, his lips curving into a small smile. Emma pressed her mouth to his again, tongue tasting the seam of his lips, memorising the texture and feel of them against her own.

“Is this what the dream means?” Emma cried, breaking the kiss but pressing her face to his. “The names on the tombstones? Are they ours?” Killian brushed his knuckles down the side of her cheek, shaking his head.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Killian promised faithfully. “And I’ll be with you. Forever.”

“I love you,” Emma whispered on a sigh.

“And I you.” Killian kissed her again, long and slow, but he hated the fact that whilst he had promised he would always be with her, he didn’t know if he would be alive or just a memory in her heart.

#cssns #cs fic #cs au #cs werewolf au #cssns fanfic #Alii dimidium Lunam #the other half of the moon #killian jones #emma swan #wolves of misthaven #artistic-writer #temporary dog au #ch 19

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