#fingers crossed for you killian!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ronearoundblindly · 4 months

Text

Day Eighty-Three (1)

CEO!Steve Rogers x CEO!Reader

10 A.M., an It Had To Be You tale (see previous or series)

Summary: A joint meeting between AmCaps and the heads of four other major companies goes about as horribly as possible...or is it exactly as you expected? Either way, Steve messes up big time.

Warnings for (hi, I'm Ro) arguments, the absolute shittiness of misogyny, degrading use of petnames, language, social idjit!Steve (he honest-to-god tried his best but whoops). MINORS DNI. If this is not to your taste, please feel free to search lighter stories here. WC 2571

Sadly, the whole thing would have gone better if Tony Stark showed up.

Stark doesn’t do meetings like this though, and you may never bother with one again. You may have no need.

Clammy hands grip the leather spine of your monogrammed portfolio, comfortingly thick with the employee files you’ve brought as ammunition. This is a battle, no doubt in your mind, but Steve acts as if it’s any other day. To him, it probably is.

This is Steve’s fourteenth quarterly get-together of entities using the stabilizing, hydrostatic, insulated, electro-neutral, lead-dense (aka S.H.I.E.L.D) modules which American Capsules supplies. You’ve worked here for twelve of those but never been in the room.

The room feels as big as a concert hall with you an ant in the back pew.

Since the meeting is on your turf, you and Steve wait till the others arrive, your boyfriend highly aware of your nerves but without a clue as to why.

You’ve been preparing for this far longer than the not-quite three months you’ve held the title of co-CEO. It’s important to understand what is really happening between these companies and who exactly is to blame. It was also important to tell Steve nothing until you knew all the facts, and you didn’t until the phone call you just got off three minutes ago.

That’s not enough time. He’ll have to enjoy the show like everyone else,

Steve loosens his skinny black tie and repeats that you shouldn’t worry. He can take the lead. All the stats are printed in the binders laid in front of six chairs around the oblong table. He touches you, reassuringly he believes, at exactly the wrong moment.

Justin Hammer saunters through the door, clocking the intimate hand on your arm when Steve leans forward to whisper, “what’s wrong?” The outrageously pompous pumpkin sucks his teeth, winking at you, and spins to moonwalk closer. Hammer even goes so far as to cup your other elbow with an over-tanned palm.

“Peach, you’re gorgeous. Don’t ever change,” he flirts, damn well knowing that you aren’t the assistant anymore but are dating the man right beside him. “Hey, pal, how’s it going? Lookin’ sharp.”

Justin wheels the nearest chair away from the conference table and plunks down, lounging against the high-backed seat, swinging his feet up onto the adjacent chair. He may as well be at the beach.

He snaps, hand landing in a finger gun pointed at you—or your backside, more accurately, where he’s also staring.

“I like mine sweet and dark. Thanks. ‘Preciate you.”

There’s no elaboration. You’re just the coffee bitch to him.

What’s wrong, you want to tell Steve, what’s wrong is that asshole is only twenty-five percent of the shit I have to deal with this morning!

Before you or Steve can respond, however, the other three arrive in quick succession.

Darren Cross of Pym Technologies might actually be the least offensive of the bunch. His smile is polite and jovial, he greets Steve simply and shakes your hand, and he smacks Hammer’s calf hard enough to make a sound as he passes by.

He, unlike Justin, brought a briefcase, keeping up the illusion that he participates in the company he’s here to represent. Cross probably does still participate, considering he was only promoted recently after Hank Pym retired.

Aldrich Killian is undoubtedly (one of) the brains behind his think tank, AIM, and Brock Rumlow is undoubtedly smug, being a lowly former associate at Stark Industries, now an executive for the Roxxon Energy Corporation.

Each of them has skin in each other’s game; throughout the history of American Capsules’ products, innovations have been shared between them to either create suitable shipping containers or to have their products shipped via those containers. They’ve quite literally shielded their collective work.

It’s a symbiotic relationship.

It’s a circle jerk.

Killian and Rumlow do not bother to walk around and say hello. They fake niceties and unbutton their suit jackets to sit on the other side of the table.

Noticeably, none of them chose either ‘head’ of the table. No one was willing to take a position of power equal to Steve in his own house. Your boyfriend seems to interpret this as acquiescence of some sort—proof that they’ll blindly respect what and who Steve himself respects,—and then Steve wrongly decides to gently run his hand the rest of the way down your arm, his fingers curling to lift your limb until the very last second.

He made it look like you were reaching out for him, like you were a scared child in need of support. You are, in a sense, but he didn’t have to fucking advertise it to these men.

Steve doesn’t make mistakes. He did that on purpose. Maybe he meant to establish some sort of claim to you? To stop them objectifying you? Whatever they do now is solely out of respect or fear of him though, not you.

You’re frozen in place—in anger, truth be told—until Justin drops his feet to the floor dramatically.

“Indulge me, sweetcheeks.” He winks again. “I’m thirsty.”

Doing your very best Vanna White impression, you step back and sweep an arm out toward the drinks on the side server. “Help yourself,” you say with a smile.

It’s only because Justin is an idiot that he misses the dig.

Open to the page he wants, Steve tosses his binder to the wood surface, the slap of lamination to varnish attracting the attention of all the men, and takes his seat at the end.

You waltz to the other side, a clear and distinct separation between you and Steve, equals in life and work but opposites today.

“Shall we wait for Stark,” Rumlow growls in his low voice.

“Not necessary,” Steve allows. “If he shows, he shows. Let’s get to it.”

Steve begins, pointing out a few key concerns. Since you already know all of this, he doesn’t look to you while speaking, but neither do the other men when they respond.

They talk over you as if you’re not there, being blowhards and patting each other on the back for ’surviving in this economy.’ You let them go on. Steve gets nowhere. He gets excuses. He gets parroted promises.

Justin dismisses insufficient specs by saying he’s just a pretty face. He leaves all the numbers to nerds. He laughs about how he’ll have to check with his people about the nitty-gritty details, but he’s sure it’ll work out.

He stands to get his own black coffee, plopping three cubes of sugar in the chrome mug.

Rumlow barks out that shoddy Hammer tech nearly sank a Roxxon oil rig.

Justin feigns ignorance of the incident.

Killian uselessly offers a fix for that, at a price.

Darren argues that Pym has followed their agreement with AmCaps to the letter.

Everybody is fucking lying to themselves.

The shouting continues, escalating until it looks like Killian and Rumlow are close to throwing punches, though you’ve missed why those two are at odds.

Finally, Steve rises, stretching his hands out in peace.

“Everyone, calm down! Take a breath. Have some water. Sit.”

He’s stressed, clearly, defaulting to conditioned behavior which means Steve then looks right at you with a pleading expression.

Wrong again.

Darren lets out a huff and nods at you. “Yes, I think that would be nice.”

“I’ll take a glass,” Rumlow adds with a tap of the table in your direction.

Killian sighs an unmistakable ‘loser’ to Rumlow, and suddenly, the fight is back on.

Time to lock and load.

You cough and stand, flipping open the portfolio in front of you, adjusting your hips in your pencil skirt with a tug but only for affect. You know exactly what draws the attention of these men.

The room goes mostly quiet.

“Water. For the table,” you deadpan command Steve.

Picking up your copy of the report set, you clear your throat.

“I’m afraid Rogers has given you all the impression this is a negotiation. It’s not.” You slide the binder to the center. “It’s a courtesy. A courtesy which none of you deserve.”

“What the hell is she talking about?” Rumlow gruffly asks Steve.

“I’m talking about unpaid balances and unfulfilled orders. I’m talking about product tampering and verified illegal activity that hereby voids your contracts, effective immediately.”

Darren shoots out of his seat. “You can’t do that!” He turns to Steve. “She can’t do that, right?��

Steve, however, is blanched with shock. “Wait, I—“

“Each of your agreements with us—“ you barrel over his protest “—contains a morality clause which was broken by Hammer Tech when they conspired to produce a subpar protective lining and pad Roxxon gas sales in the region, unwittingly causing unsafe storage at a Stark factory in Galmira because the entire operation no longer followed American Capsules specifications—your specifications for transporting your own products.

“Pym,” you continue with force, “failed to produce compact enough items for the containers they ordered and instead chose to resell the regulated lining materials for a premium.” You toss a packet of papers down to Darren. “In your infinite wisdom, this also means you violated multiple Customs laws by forging shipping weights and ignoring safety guidelines.”

Killian puts a bejeweled hand over his vested heart. “Cross, you didn’t?”

“Which brings me to fucking AIM,” you grit.

“Precious,” Steve breaths with a warning tone, but you can’t stop. You’ve waited too long for this moment.

“Because who the hell do you think created the new formula for a light-weight, lower-cost, shitty lining?” You take such pleasure in stabbing a finger in his direction then flinging stapled proof across the table. “Evidence. Evidence of all of this provided by multiple sources. And you were warned…”

Now comes the really fun part.

You spread out eight folders.

“…warned by Roxxon’s own Betty Ross, Wanda Maximoff, and Kamala Khan. By Hammer’s Monica Rambeau and Kate Bishop. AIM’s doctors, Christine Palmer and Helen Cho, and finally, Pym Tech’s Mary Jane Watson—none of whom, I’m excited to say, work for you anymore.”

There’s a stunned heft to the frigidly controlled air in the large room. The florescent lights overhead buzz harshly.

“Are you fucking serious?” Killian rasps.

“Put your bitch back on her leash,” Rumlow bites to Steve.

“Don’t speak to her like—“

“Wait a minute,” Justin snorts, “I’m confused.”

“Your nerds will explain it to you once you crawl back into your hole.”

“Prec—” Steve snips in alarm but catches himself. He looks panicked and blind-sided, which he would be. You kept their complicity from him until you had everything you needed to invoke the morality clause.

You turn to the junior CEO for Pym Tech. “Expect a call from Hope Van Dyne. She has a few thoughts on Cross Technologies.”

Called out for his as-yet-unannounced rebranding of the company, Darren breaks, and he breaks viciously, vaulting the three chairs between you.

“Fucking cunt,” he screams through bared teeth.

Steve launches past the skittering seats and makes it to Cross milliseconds before he can intercept you.

“I didn’t make you lie, cheat, and steal,” you screech. “You screwed yourselves!”

Killian straightens his lapels and smooths his shirt nervously. “Surely, we can come to some arrangement.”

“This is all a misunderstanding,” Hammer adds.

Rumlow simply walks out with a shout of “you’ll be hearing from our lawyers.”

Steve slams Cross into the window, an ominous rattle shaking the frame, the cheek of the struggling man whining as it smears along the glass. When Darren still tries to hiss something else at you, Steve pins him against the wall instead, a forearm choking off any other choice words the bald man might offer.

“This meeting is over,” Steve grunts, pushing at Cross until the man settles.

“Right,” you sigh, keeping your voice as level as you can. “Gentlemen, I’d say get your houses in order, but I’m afraid the furniture is about to be repoed.”

Killian runs his hand through his styled hair. “Think I’ll leave you to talk some sense into your precious partner. Good day.”

You’ll never forgive Steve for blurting your private nickname out in front of the worst possible people to know it, but this is how you chose to play the meeting. You knew there’d be…pushback.

The AIM founder takes a lazy sip. “Thanks for the water, Rogers.” He taps his pinky ring several times on the glass, a hollow, high ting lingering after each strike, and then Aldrich heads for the door.

Steve releases Darren despite the wild look in his eyes, but Cross would be a fool to make any move except to leave. He gathers his things and slips through the exit before it fully closes.

The only one remaining is Justin Hammer, and he tosses out his arms with a chuckle, shaking his head.

“Kitten, come on. This is crazy. Isn’t this crazy? We’re all friends here. Let’s just chill, relax, and work this out. How ‘bout a drink?” More snaps. More finger guns. “You want coffee? Alright, perfect. Love ya. We’ll have coffee.” The man fidgets, sweat visible on his lip and forehead when he turns in the window’s light and approaches the drink cart.

“Sure thing, Justin. I take my coffee like I take my women—“ you smile “—from you.”

Okay, that part just felt good.

“That—” Hammer’s brow raises and he wipes down his jaw with one hand “—now that was uncalled for.”

Steve cuts in, a solid dismissal in the form of “I said ‘the meeting’s over.’”

“Oh, boy. You—well, you better watch…This ain’t over.” Hammer makes a fuss of buttoning his jacket again, puffing out his chest, then walking off even more empty-handed than he arrived.

The enormous, heavy door shuts slowly on buzzing, bright silence.

After a pause, Steve heaves out a breath.

“That went well.”

Sarcasm is not one of his strengths.

You’re not sure what you expected. You stand as a block of granite decor in the corner you retreated to once shit hit the fan.

It was the right decision. This was the right thing to do, the moral thing. It’s in the goddamn contract.

Though physically he shows no signs of duress—Steve used very little of his actual muscle to subdue Darren,—he hangs his head, stepping to your spot at the table to look at what you brought in. After a pause, Steve rubs his temple like it aches.

“I…I have no words,” he mutters, tone inscrutable.

You don’t care if he has words or not. You only have to wait until they’re out of the building.

“I don’t understand. What just happened?”

The door opens to reveal a bored-looking Topaz.

“Boss, Stark sent a catered lunch over. Where should they set up? It’s shawarma.”

“I don’t care,” Steve bursts. “Just take it down to R&D or something!”

That’s your cue to leave.

You shut your mostly-empty portfolio and tuck it to your chest.

A hand wraps around your wrist, unyielding.

Steve’s stormy blue eyes are felt more than seen, his hold tightening, trying to inch you closer, but you rip away.

“I’ll send you a memo,” you tell Steve without looking directly at him. “Keep those. I have copies.”

Fast as you can in heels and a skirt, you hurry after Topaz and past the food, fleeing first to your office and then to your own home.

[Day 83: 6pm]

[tender first aid drabble; Big Girls Don't Cry]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: Ahhhhh! Next up is how Steve makes it up to you...or at least starts to...😱😵‍💫🥴

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81

@bigtreefest @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads

@fallinallinmendes @rach2602 @royalwritersoftheuniverses

#it had to be you series #ceo!steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #ceo!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #assistant!reader

127 notes · View notes

donteattheappleshook · 2 months

Text

Not Broken At All Chapter 17/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated E

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Thank you thank you thank you @the-darkdragonfly for helping me so much with this chapter I literally wrote at your kitchen table lol.

This one is a bit shorter because I had to move the last scene to the next chapter or it would have been like 10k long…. but hopefully that means chapter 18 is coming soon!

(at least you didn't have to wait a year for chapter 17?)

*******

Part 17

Emma follows Killian’s eyes as they dart towards the ceiling, the deck above their heads. It’s dark out, but not the dark of night, the dark of an oncoming storm, that ominous, looming chill of electricity in the air, the waves lapping against the sides of the ship that rocks unsteadily against the threatening sea. A shiver runs down her spine. Whether Pan’s here or not - he’s fucking furious.

There’s a knock on the door, Wendy not waiting for permission before pushing it open. “Is he here?” Killian asks, voice low.

She shakes her head, holding a small, empty vial. “Not yet. But Ianeira sent a warning - he’s on his way and he’s not happy.” She looks out at the first heavy drops that land against the window like bullets. “Obviously.”

“Get the boys below deck,” he orders, still not raising his voice above the rumble of the storm outside. “Scarlet,” he adds, the younger pirate leaning against the doorframe, “go wake the crew. Tell them to be ready for a fight.”

“What are you going to do?” Wendy frowns like she already knows the answer.

“Handle Pan.”

“Absolutely not.” Emma answers at the same time as Wendy’s “like hell” rings through the air. “This was my idea. I’ll go deal with the consequences,” she insists, but her words are ignored as the two captains continue to argue. Will shoots her a sympathetic shrug from his place in the doorway.

“We don’t have time to argue,” Killian finally snaps at his second, standing and grabbing Emma’s pants from where she hung them last night before tossing them to her. “Pan and his Lost Boys will be here any minute and we need to make sure the boys are hidden and the crew is ready to defend the Jolly.”

“Is that an order, Captain?” Wendy asks, arms crossing over her chest and Killian stiffens. Emma didn’t miss the weight put behind the question.

“Cap-” he starts but she cuts him off.

“No. No more of this ‘I’m not the captain’ or two captains bullshit. If you’re going to pull rank and make me follow orders then you don’t get to decide you don’t want to be in charge anymore tomorrow. If this crew is going to put our lives on the line for your plan, and trust you to handle Pan, then you’re going to be the one to make the order. And if you die today -” Her harsh facade breaks just a fraction - “It won’t be because of something I could have stopped.”

The room is silent as the two stare each other down, the rush and howls of the storm growing louder outside, growing closer as they remain locked in the standoff, Wendy’s ultimatum hanging between them. “Well?” she demands.

He’s silent for another moment, but then he lets out a sigh. “Bring the boys below deck, make sure they don’t make a sound or Pan will remember that they’re here.” Another hesitation as neither she or Will move and his thumb runs over the ring on his finger. “That’s an order.”

Wendy’s shoulders both straighten and sag at once as she shifts into her new role, her face blank, betraying nothing, but Emma knows. She can see the hurt and the fear, of his betrayal and of the danger he’s putting himself in as she nods. “Aye, Captain.”

Killian flinches away from the title just the barest amount before she heads out of the room.

“What are you gonna tell him?” Will glares at his usurping captain.

Killian sighs. “I haven’t figured that part out yet.” He reaches for his shirt, pulling it on over his head and turning to find the man still there. “Go wake the crew,” he orders again and Will stares at him for a long moment before doing as he’s told.

Emma watches him as he dresses, yanking her own pants on and rising from the bed, the buttons of his vest fastened methodically, one by one with practiced fingers before he dons his greatcoat. She realizes what she’s watching as he slides his sword into its sheath, secures it to his hip: a soldier dressing for battle, each piece of his armour clad carefully down to the expression he smooths over his face, the one that hides the man who’d let her in his bed and held her against the threat of the night behind a cold, heartless facade.

“Killian,” she starts, ready to fight him on this. Rescuing the boys was her decision. She’d made them do it. This should be her responsibility. Nobody else's lives should be on the line for her choices. A boom of thunder cuts her off before a flash of lightning brightens the room.

“He’s here,” Wendy tells them, stepping back into the room. Killian doesn’t confirm if his orders have been followed - he doesn’t need to.

“Let me go,” Emma insists. “I can tell him it was my idea. I can -”

“No.” They answer in unison and before she can protest a boom of thunder echoes above them and an angry, lilting voice calls out above them.

“Thieves! Show yourselves!” The demand is followed by a roar of approval, small, young voices calling out in a battle cry she’s heard before. The room goes silent, tension in every line of her body and Killian’s. Wendy looks to her captain, waiting for orders, hands fisted like she’s trying not to barge up there herself.

Emma sees the barest flash of fear in his gaze before he schools it and turns to her, leveling her with a hard, commanding look.

“Go to the hold with the children. Promise me you’ll stay down there - that you won’t make a sound.” Emma glares at him, his face only inches away as he speaks so quietly she can barely hear him. He glares back just as defiantly. “Promise me, Swan.” She doesn’t answer. She’s not promising that. Not when it’s her fault Pan’s here and he could hurt them. “They need you. They trust you and they need to stay hidden. If Pan’s reminded they’re here… he might demand their lives in place of the dead we took.”

Her glare deepens. “I know what you’re doing.”

The corner of his mouth turns up just a fraction before he straightens it. “Then you should have no problem following through with it.” When her shoulders straighten his hand comes to her cheek. “We can’t risk Pan finding out about you - not while we don’t have a way of defeating him or saving Henry. You can’t protect anyone if you’re dead,” he adds, using her words against her now and her eyes narrow. “You can’t protect Henry if you’re dead.” That one hits hard and Emma knows he’s right - but she still doesn’t like it. She doesn’t want him dead either.

Pan’s warning rings out again, harsher this time - ‘Come out and face me, coward!’ - and Killian’s shoulders tense. “Fine,” she concedes. “But if things go bad -”

“You’ll stay right here.” It’s a warning, and she almost wants to call him on it, to see what he really thinks he can do to her that’s worse than the situation they’re already in, but she bites her tongue. He takes her silence as the end of the discussion. “Darling,” he calls over his shoulder. “Bring her to the hold and then join me on deck - Darling,” he tries again when she doesn’t respond, but Wendy’s attention is focused outside the cabin, staring out down the hall, a frown starting to pull at her brow and Killian’s matches it. “Wendy?”

“Where’s Will?”

“What?”

“Will.” Her voice is low, far away but rising with tightly restrained panic. “He should be back by now. Where’s the crew?”

As if on cue, a voice rings out loudly above them. “Pan! Two visits in as many days? To what do we owe the honour?” They rush to the stairs, crouched low looking out at where Will stands, alone, facing off against Pan. Fuck. Please don’t be an idiot. She can feel Wendy tense beside her and Killian reaches, grabbing his first mate’s arm.

“Don’t,” he warns and Emma’s surprised to see her try to yank her arm free. But he holds firm.

“Scarlet.” Pan sounds annoyed but intrigued nevertheless. “It’s been a long time.” He cocks his head, a small smirk on his childlike face. “You got old.”

“Go get the crew,” Killian orders, staring her down and not releasing her until the fight fades slightly from her eyes. He knows how much this must be killing her. “If there’s going to be a fight, we won’t be able to stop him alone. Bring them with you and meet me on deck.”

Will baulks. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’ve the complexion of a man less than half my age.” He brushes a hand over his scruffless cheek as if to prove it.

There’s still resistance in Wendy’s stance but she nods, dashing off towards the crew’s quarters. Killian turns to her. “Stay here. Don’t let the children leave the hull.” She can only nod, still watching as her new friend continues to bait Pan. “Bloody idiot,” Killian mutters under his breath.

Emma grabs his arm, halting him. She waits until his questioning gaze turns to her. “Be careful. Please.”

He watches her for a moment, eyes darting up to the deck, and then takes her hand, presses a kiss to the back of it and nods the voices above growing louder. He spares her one last glance before dashing up the stairs.

“Hook,” Pan says as soon as he reaches the bow of the ship. “There you are. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Apologies,” Killian offers with a small bow and a polite smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Where are my shadows?”

“Your shadows? We don’t have any shadows here.”

“Don’t lie,” Pan snaps and Emma flinches. “You stole eleven lost boys from me. Those were my lives - I won them fair and square. Give them back.” Emma half expects him to stomp his foot, but it’s then that she realizes that he can’t - because he’s not on the deck. He’s flying, or hovering a few feet above it. Wendy had said that Neverland’s magic couldn’t touch the Jolly - does that mean Pan can’t either? Can he not set foot onboard?

“They’re at the bottom of the sea, I’m afraid,” Killian tells him with a wince and she can see the rage building in the small boy.

“Then I’ll take them from your crew. Eleven of them in exchange for the ones that you took.” Emma casts a glance back down the hall towards the hold where a dozen children hide.

“No need for that,” Killian begins. “They aren’t to blame for this little misunderstanding. I’m sure we can find a solution where you get what you want that’s fair.” Pan hesitates at the word fair. He loves his games - he loves his rules.

“Then who is to blame?” he demands. “Bring the thief forward so that he can be punished.”

“Unfortunately we-”

“I did it.”

“Scarlet,” Wendy hisses in warning, but he’s already taking another step towards Pan.

“It was my idea.”

Pan glares. “Why?”

There’s a pause and then Will smirks. “I just wanted to piss you off. For old time’s sake.”

The boy’s anger shifts into something cruel and amused. “Well then, you can pay the price for old times sake. You remember how much fun my punishments can be,” he adds. She sees Will’s back go stiff right before Pan’s hand plunges deep into his chest and Emma has to cover her mouth with her hands to catch the scream that tries to escape. The crew stills, petrified. This isn’t the first time they’ve seen this happen.

“Wait!” Wendy shouts as Will lets out a groan of pain. Killian grabs her arm, silencing her and holding her in place. Pan ignores her, pulling his hand free, something bright and red and glowing held in his palm. That can’t be what she thinks it is.

“Eleven lives,” he muses again, floating easily across the deck, thinking. He gives the thing a small squeeze and Will cries out falling to his knees. Pan smirks, he’s enjoying this, she can tell; he already knows what he wants to do and Emma’s nails dig into her palms, every bone in her body demanding she go up there and not let this happen. It should be her that pays the price. Not Will.

His fingers tighten around it again and Will stops breathing, hand clutched to his chest where his heart should be until finally, Pan loosens his grip, looking at Will with his head cocked again. “You really did get old, Scarlet. But maybe not old enough…” He looks him over carefully, then the mass in his hand. “Eleven Lost Boy’s lives… so many years - But I think we can make it an even hundred. For old times sake?” he smirks. “That sounds fair,” he decides. “You can pay me back a hundred years.”

When he squeezes the heart again, Will collapses onto the deck, bits of dust slipping from Pan’s fingers as the light flickers in and out and Emma can see Killian physically holding Wendy back now, knuckles white around the leather of her coat. Nobody breathes. The crew look like it’s taking everything they have not to run - either to Will or away from Pan. Instead they stand frozen.

She counts the seconds as they go by. One. Two. Three. Four. Five… Will rasps out a strangled cry, fists balling against the wood planks of the deck. Six. Seven. Eight… She watches him grit his teeth, sweat beading along the back of his neck, fighting. Nine. Ten. Eleven…

When she reaches eleven, Will takes his first breath in what feels like hours, the light in Pan’s loosened grip smaller and dimmer but still glowing, still beating.

“That should do it,” he smiles, returning Will’s heart to his chest.

Will gasps, settling his hand over it as if to feel the beat under it - make sure it’s really there. Then he frowns up at the boy. “Is… is that it?”

“Scarlet.” It’s Killian who snaps this time. “Below deck. Now.” Emma can’t see the look Wendy gives him when Will defers to her, but it sends him to his feet and across the deck in a second, head bent low.

“Emma,” he greets with all his usual bravado despite the raspiness of his breath when he finds her on the stairs. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She punches him in the arm. Hard. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Ow!”

“That was so stupid! What the hell were you thinking?”

Will shrugs. “I owed him one. And I’m not going to let Killian get one up on the galant gestures.”

“Hook.” Pan says, drawing her attention away before she can hit Will again. “If your crew isn’t going to play fair then they won’t get to play with us anymore”

“I’ll get them in line,” he promises and she can hear the edge in his voice.

“Good. Do you need a reminder of the rules? You were away for a long time…”

“I remember.”

Pan nods, happy now - a child getting his way. “Good. Then the game can continue.” He turns, hovering over the railing of the ship and casting them one last glance as the threat of a storm begins to clear. “But no more chances,” he warns. Both Killian and Wendy nod solemnly before he flies off towards the beach.

As soon as he’s gone, Wendy practically runs towards the cabin. “All of you,” Killian commands, drawing the crew’s attention away from their former captain. “Back to work. Now,” he snaps when they don’t obey immediately. They scatter, finding work to keep them busy.

Emma has to jump out of the way as the other woman barrels down the stairs, grabbing Will by the shoulders. She turns him one way and then another, hands coming to his face as she does the same to his head, checking for injuries. Finally, her hand settles on his chest and Emma can tell she’s counting heartbeats. Will lets her, not resisting as she checks him for any sign of permanent damage.

When she seems satisfied, she raises furious eyes to his, the hand at his chest fisting in his shirt and shoving him away from her. “Fuck you, Scarlet,” she bites out before storming off down the hall.

Killian takes over, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Will is less willing to let himself be manhandled by him though, shoving at his arm even as he holds firm. “Do you not know how to follow an order, mate?”

“I’m not your mate,” he snaps back, more annoyed than angry. “And you’re not my Captain.”

“And here I thought we were getting along,” Killian answers sarcastically. “And you don’t have to like it, but I am your Captain and if you do that to her again -”

“Like you did when you took off to find Henry?”

“That was different. I did it to spare her the pain of losing someone she cares for.”

“So did I. Do you really think Pan would have been so forgiving if you’d taken the blame? You’ve been gone a long time, Hook. You’re not his favourite playmate anymore.”

“And you are?”

“I’m still alive aren’t I?”

Killian scoffs. “You’ve lasted a decade. Speak to me when you survive a century.”

“Well if we keep her alive we won’t have to,” Will snarks, nodding at Emma.

“Me?”

“I wouldn’t have stuck my neck out for you if I didn’t think you were actually going to change things.” Emma doesn’t have an answer to that, the weight of his faith in her more than she can handle right now. “Don’t make me regret it, aye?” he winces, rubbing at his chest.

“What did he do to you?”

He gives a small shrug. “Crushed my heart. Wasn’t so bad, really - I’ve had worse.”

“What?”

“It’s a particular favourite of his,” Killian explains.

“I’ve seen him do it to disobedient Lost Boys for hours - days once. He’s done it longer to me when I was his second. I’m surprised it was only…”

“Eleven seconds,” Emma supplies. The longest eleven seconds she can remember.

“Aye - I thought he’d be angrier.”

“What did he mean by you paying him back a hundred years?”

Will shrugs again. “Pan loves his riddles. I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. I need to go find Wendy.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Killian warns and it almost sounds like a threat.

Will scoffs, finally shoving his hand away. “Please. I’ve done stupider things than egg Pan on.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Killian rolls his eyes and Will glares at him before smirking.

“I’ve become very good at getting her to forgive me.”

Emma wonders for a moment if she’s going to have to prevent a murder. “Get out of here before I get Pan to come back and crush your heart for good.”

“What? I thought we were mates -”

“Go,” Emma tells him. Before Killian follows through on that promise. Thankfully, Will isn’t stupid enough to push him any further and does as he’s told. She puts a hand on Killian’s arm. “Just remember that he almost died today. Cut him a bit of slack.” He doesn’t seem convinced, continuing to glare after the younger man. “And he might have saved our lives. He definitely saved mine.”

Killian scoffs, finally looking at her. “And he’ll never let us forget it.”

“So what’s next?” she asks, trying to distract him from his sort of daughter and her sort of boyfriend’s sort of love life.

“Hmm?”

“We’ve got the lorelei, we’ve got Tinkerbell, we’ve got a ship full of Lost Boys and pirates, we kept him from getting any more shadows… what do we do now?”

“We figure out what Pan’s plan is.”

“Can we not just… kill him?” she knows they can’t - probably - but she’s pretty sure the idea hasn’t been thrown out there yet so it’s worth a shot.

Killian shakes his head like she expected him to. “If we could, I’d have done it by now. I did once, when I first returned to Neverland after decades away. I ran him through with my sword trying to avenge my brother.” Her hand on his arm tightens without her meaning it to. “He pretended, made a whole show and lay there until I was sure he was dead - and then he started to laugh. Just another game - the first one I played with him even if I didn’t know it. He told me it was the only time he would let me win.”

“We’ll find a way.”

He smiles at her, small and half-hearted but she believes him. “I’m sure you will.”

***

“Why do we have to do this?” one of the boys - Kyle, she thinks - complains, dropping the wooden sword to his side. It had been so strange and jarring to learn some of the Lost Boys names over the last few days. “ We have nothing to do but wait ,” Killian had said. “Tink has let the Constant know that we’re ready to meet with them and they’ll send word when they’ve decided if they’ll hear us out .” For some reason, the boys had all been like Wendy in her mind, born ‘ somewhere around the 1880s, I think, ’ or Will, who’d come to Neverland during the Blitz, using dreams to escape the nightmares of real life. But this new group of boys weren’t characters out of a book or an old black and white photo.

“My mom named me after the guy in some robot movie that had just come out,” Kyle mentioned and it was a moment before it clicked. “The Terminator?!” He’d only shrugged. “That might’ve been it.” This boy was her age. He couldn’t have been born more than a couple of years after she was. Another boy’s tattered shirt had a faded image of Lilo and Stitch on it - he didn’t look more than twelve. These boys were just… kids. Regular kids like the ones she grew up with and the ones who lived in Storybrooke or Boston - boys like Henry. And now they were soldiers.

“We have to do this,” Wendy answers, giving his fake sword a tap with her own so his arm straightens, “because everyone on this ship needs to be ready to defend her when the next raid happens - If you want to live until the next one.”

“But we already know how to fight,” he whines. “We defeated you every time.” If Wendy’s upset at the casual mention of her crewmates being slaughtered, she doesn’t let it show. “I already know how to sword fight.”

“Do you now?” Killian calls from the helm before she can answer.

“Captain…” his first mate starts but he ignores her. He’s an imposing figure, clad in black leather with the metal of his hook gleaming in the sun and the weight of his sword heavy at his hip. As his footsteps echo across the deck as he makes his way over to where the boys had begun their training they all go silent.

“Now now, Mr. Darling, if the boy thinks he’s beyond our instruction he should have the chance to prove himself.” He stops in front of the new recruit, drawing his sword in a slow, measured movement, the tip an inch from the kid’s nose and Emma panics for just a second that he might cut him down right there. But then he turns to Wendy, “Bosun, get this boy a real blade,” and she realizes he’s had exactly the effect he intended as everyone around him tenses.

Wendy goes to fetch a weapon, shooting him the kind of eyeroll kids learn to make in front of adults without getting caught - one she knows very well.

“Think you can defeat me, boy?”

To his credit, Kyle straightens his shoulders, taking the offered sword and raising it to the Captain’s, ready for a fight. She thinks she might see the tiniest bit of approval beneath the scorn in Killian’s expression. The boy moves first, swinging at him with all his might as he deflects again and again. Killian’s toying with him - she knows he is. She saw Killian fight Will that first night on the Jolly. His blocks are too slow, letting the kid get within inches of hitting him. He doesn’t make a single attack, his feet unmoving and she’d think it was cruel if she didn’t understand why he was doing it.

Finally, when the boy starts to sweat, she sees Killian shift, adjusting his stance as he swings at his opponent. The block comes almost too late, only stopped by the way Killian pulls back at the last moment. He does it again, and again, backing the boy across the deck with blow after blow. There’s no flourish to it, no showmanship, just skill and finesse and strength and speed.

The kid starts to panic, the attacks coming too fast and Emma holds back a gasp when Killian’s blade slices across Kyle’s forearm. After that, it’s easy for Killian to twist his blade out of the kid’s shocked hand with his own, his elbow coming up to knock the boy flat on his ass. By the time he looks up, nose bloody, eyes dazed and watery, Killian’s sword is pointed at his chest, his brow arched in a harsh challenge.

“Please don’t kill me,” the boy says so quietly and so heartbreakingly that she thinks she sees Killian’s face soften just the barest amount before he takes a step back, dropping his sword.

“Listen, all of you,” he booms, though every eye on the deck is already on him. “You’ve never defeated anyone. Until now you’ve been playing a game and the game has been rigged. And I’m sorry to say, you’re now on the losing team. The only thing that matters from this moment on is staying alive. And the only way to stay alive is being a skilled enough fighter - and knowing how to hold that skill back enough - that Pan will want to fight you again.”

He lets this hang in the air for a moment, the boys’ faces showing different degrees of confusion and understanding and horror. “So all of you will follow Mr. Darling’s instructions and learn everything you can from him. You’ll fight to defend this ship, yourselves, and each other when the time comes because you’re part of my crew now.” He reaches a hook out to Kyle who sits cradling his nose and heaves the boy to his feet. “And we look after our own.”

Killian looks at the boy who nods, message received loud and clear, before clapping him on the shoulder. “Scarlet, see that our newest crew member’s wounds are tended to. He put up quite the fight.”

“Aye, Captain,” Will complies without argument or sarcasm and Killian must be as shocked as she is because he keeps his mouth shut.

“Darling must have said something to him,” he tells her when Emma joins him, his sword sliding carefully back into its sheath as he watches Wendy continue her lesson.

“Or maybe you just did.” Killian only looks at her, brow raised in disbelief before she gestures at the sword hanging at his belt. “So, come on, are you going to show me how to use this thing or not?”

His face splits into a shit-eating grin. “Ah, Swan, I’ve dreamed of the day that you’d ask me to show you how to handle my sword.”

***

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Tinkerbell asks. She’d floated onto the ship that night, looking stronger than when Emma had last seen her - the few days with the Constant clearly having done her good. Her wings looked taller, fully unfurled, the crepe paper like skin no longer breakable and frail as they flutter behind her.

“Is there good news?” Killian sighs, standing from his desk where he’d been looking over maps of the island while Emma asked him questions about them, how each was different based on when it was drawn, what Pan had changed, who he had brought. He seemed unbothered by the fairy magicking his window open and letting herself in.

“They’ve agreed to meet with you. They haven’t agreed to help,” she clarifies when Killian looks surprised, “but they’ve agreed to hear you out.”

“And the bad news?”

“They’ll only meet us in Echo Caves.”

Killian lets out a heavy, long suffering sigh, thumb brushing the inner corner of his brow, words dripping with sarcasm. “Wonderful. Did they happen to give a reason why?”

“Something about making sure you can be trusted - some incident at skull rock?”

“It was a misunderstanding,” he mutters under his breath.

“Really because the way I heard it -”

“It’s fine. Tell them we agree to their terms. When do they expect us?”

“First light.”

Killian nods. “We’ll be there. And Tink,” he adds when she turns to leave. “Thank you.”

She sneers. “I’m not doing it for you.” And then she’s gone before he can say another word.

“What’s Echo Caves?” Emma pulls her knees up to her chest where she’s perched on the desk after she’s sure the fairy’s out of earshot and Killian’s sagged back in his seat.

“Another one of Neverland’s little delights,” he sighs again. “The magic of the cave compels you to share your deepest secret - whether or not you’re even aware of it.”

“Have you gone before?” she asks.

“Once.” His hand drifts up without her really noticing, fingers curling around her calf, thumb tracing over her shin and she thinks maybe it wasn’t a pleasant experience. “Pan wanted to test my loyalty.” She rests her chin on her knee, dreading what he may have had to confess to Pan to keep himself alive on this horrible island. He smiles up at her then, a put-on apathy. “Thankfully, I had many terrible deeds in my past to confess to.” He doesn’t give her a chance to say anything before he releases her and stands again - something dropped between them and something else put up.

“Are you afraid?”

Killian doesn’t look at her. “Always.” Her heart tightens. She understands - she’d only been here a few weeks and she’s been terrified every moment - apart from her brief experiment with fairy wine - centuries… she can’t imagine. “But not of the Constant. Tiger Lily may hold a grudge but they’ll do whatever’s best for this island, and so will their people. And I’ve no ill-intent towards them or love for Pan.” He looks at her then, pausing. “Are you?”

“Of having to spill my deepest secret to a bunch of strangers? No, why would I possibly be stressed about that?” she smirks half-heartedly.

“Strangers?” Killian raises a brow, sliding back across the room and resting his hand and hook on the desk on either side of her. “You hurt me, Swan. I thought we were friends - acquaintances at least.”

She shoves at his chest rolling her eyes and he smirks. “Usually a guy has to buy me dinner before he gets to hear the all sordid details of my past.” Or coffee in an empty theme park where a pretty smile and a well-placed sneak into his past makes her think she’s safe to reveal herself, to trust someone with all of it.

“Hey,” his thumb brushes over her knee as he tries to catch her gaze. “Where’d you go?”

Not anywhere he needs to know about - or anywhere she’d care to revisit. So she smiles at him, lets her foot brush against the side of his calf, teasing, distracting. “Just trying to figure out which of my deepest secrets are gonna come spilling out of me tomorrow.” He doesn’t believe her, his lie detector almost as good as her own, she's realized, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Well you are a mystery, Swan,” he tells her with a half-hearted smirk.

“Not for much longer, apparently.”

Something shifts in the way he’s looking at her, sympathy or understanding as he cocks his head. “You know you don’t have to come if -”

“I’m going.”

Killian huffs a laugh. “Of course you are. Well if there’s anything you want to get off your chest without an audience, now’s the time.” His eyebrow quirks up in challenge. “Won’t be a secret anymore if you tell me.” She meets it.

“What? Is one revelation about me not enough for you?”

Something shifts again, something heavier, her skin warm and humming with fear and anticipation as he looks at her the way he had when he’d been curled around her on the floor of the brig. His voice is lower when he speaks. “Perhaps I’d just like to know you, Swan.”

She casts her eyes to the floor, his gaze too intense - always too intense - before setting the smirk that had fallen from her lips back in place. “You first.”

“I’m an open book, love. Ask me anything you like.”

She has one question, one that’s been itching at the back of her mind since she’d seen the canvas of scars etched across his skin. “Who were you? Before you were here - before you were ‘Captain Hook’?”

His bravado falters for a moment. “I was many things. Son, brother, slave, sailor, lieutenant, captain, pirate, partner… None for very long.” He gives her another of those showy smirks. “It seems Hook is the only one that stuck.” Her heart breaks a little, so many loves lost and so many injustices done in such a short life. She thinks of the scars that had criss-crossed his back, that she’d asked about so casually then - slave he’d said - and she wishes she could do it over, pay both them and him the reverence they deserve. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

His hand slides to her wrist, to the laces she’d tied there the first day she’d come back to the sheriff’s office alone. All of his things had been gone. Desk cleared out, jacket taken from the back of his chair, the few things he bothered to keep - a tacky ceramic wolf, a photo of him and some friends she never bothered to ask him about, even the bottle of whiskey he kept in his top drawer - had been ransacked. He had no family that she knew of - no family that could be found at all - and she’d just known that it was Regina. She’d come in and wiped every trace of Graham clean like he never existed - apart from a single pair of boots forgotten by the back door.

“They belonged to someone I used to know.”

“Someone you cared for?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she shrugs. “He’s gone now.”

“It mattered enough for you to keep a piece of him with you.” He fingers the laces again, focusing on them, not making her meet his eyes again. “I know what it is to lose the people that matter most.”

Emma pulls her hand back, sliding them both behind her under the guise of leaning back on the desk and gives another dismissive shrug even as she can’t make herself look at him. “Yeah, well, when you grow up like I did you learn pretty quickly not to get attached.”

Thankfully, Killian knows how to take a hint, straightening and flashing her an off grin. “If only we all possessed such a skill, Swan.” Then, pushing away from the desk, “I best let the others know what awaits us all tomorrow.”

Emma swallows, this island has already taken so much from her - her son, her name, her memories - almost - her whole belief system… How much more can it really take? She doesn’t ask - not anymore as she slides into Killian’s bed instead of her own, and he doesn’t say anything as he joins her a few minutes later, just pulls her against him, breath warm and comforting against her cheek as they try to shut themselves off from the cries that ring out on the deck above them.

*******

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from my tag list!

@kmomof4 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @undercaffinatednightmare @jennjenn615 @dramioneswan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @batana54 @lfh1226-linda @csalltheway @xsajx @xarandomdreamx @onceratheart18 @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway @zaharadessert @thejollyroger-writer @ultraluckycatnd @justanother-unluckysoul @spartanguard @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @wefoundloveunderthelight @sailtoafarawayland @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @superchocovian @snowbellewells @xellewoods @sals86 @karlyfr13s @ouatpost @skairipakomtrikru @lonelyspectator12 @anmylica @alexa-fangirl-forever @inspiredbystardust @marcella2727 @paradiselady19 @koryandr @killiansprincss @goforlaunchcee

#captain swan #cs fanfic #cs ff #cs smut #cs au #cs neverland au #ouat season 1 au #cs neverland new year #don't hate me #It'll have a happy ending.... they just have to work for it #you can blame Kay for all the Will content in this one

21 notes · View notes

jrob64 · 6 months

Text

Long Overdue Conversations - Part 4 (Emma & Killian) A OUAT missing scene

Here is another conversation I feel should have taken place in Once Upon a Time. This one occurs immediately after the 'You traded your ship for me' scene at the end of season 3.

THIS PART IS RATED M!

Previous installments can be found on Tumblr: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

All parts can also be found on Ao3 & FFN

Special thanks to @hookedmom who always makes my stories better with her beta skills and suggestions for making this scene better (and hotter!)

*********

“You traded your ship for me?” Emma asked, amazement evident in her voice.

Killian gave a slight nod. “Aye.”

Then she was kissing him. Not a bruising and frantic kiss like the one in Neverland, but a tender, passionate one that took his breath away all the same. At one point, he had to draw back to look at her, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. When she smiled at him and rested her forehead against his, he caressed her cheek, running her silky hair through his fingers, before capturing her willing lips once again.

Their moment was interrupted when Leroy and one of his brothers came bursting through the door of Granny’s, drunkenly singing. It was all Killian could do to keep himself from throttling the dwarfs, but Emma simply squeezed his hand and gave him a soft smile.

“If you don’t have your ship anymore, where are you staying?” she asked.

“The widow Lucas granted me a room at her bed and breakfast.”

“Hmm…” Emma hummed in thought.

Killian tilted his head, waiting for her to continue. After a moment of silence, he asked, “What’s on your mind, Swan?”

Leaning in, she brushed her lips across his cheek. “Give me a minute to say goodbye to my family. I’ll be right back.”

He watched her rise from her seat and ascend the steps into the diner. Before disappearing inside, she turned and smiled at him reassuringly.

While he waited, he touched his fingers to his lips, just as he had after their first kiss. He loved the feeling of Emma Swan’s lips on his and wanted it to linger. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to wait nearly as long to feel them again.

Sooner than he expected, Emma was back out the door. When she reached him, she took him by the hand, encouraging him to get to his feet. “Come on, pirate.”

“Where are we going, Love?”

She gave him a secretive smile. “To your room.”

In a near state of shock, he followed behind her as she led the way, still gripping his hand tightly. When they entered the lobby, Emma asked, “What’s your room number?”

“Um…four,” he stammered.

“Seriously? That’s the room I had when I first came to town.”

“Aye, the widow Lucas did mention that fact when she gave me the key.”

He trailed closely behind her up the stairs, his hand on the small of her back. He was hesitant to break physical contact with her, for fear she would suddenly disappear. It was Storybrooke, after all.

When they reached his door, he fumbled for the key. Finally withdrawing it from the inside pocket of his leather duster, it slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor.

Emma bent down and picked it up, smirking as she held it between her fingers. “Nervous, Captain?” she asked, before inserting it into the lock and turning it. The door swung open and they quickly crossed the threshold.

“I’m still trying to determine if this is indeed real, or simply my imagination,” he said. He closed the door and leaned back against it, gripping his belt buckle as he looked up at her through his dark lashes.

“Have you imagined this?” she asked, batting her own lashes at him.

He poked his tongue into his cheek, then ran it over his bottom teeth before answering. “Perhaps.”

Stepping closer, she leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Move away from the door.”

Quirking a curious brow at her, he did as instructed. She held her hands up with her palms flat and facing the door. Closing her eyes, she concentrated until a soft glow emanated from them. Then she moved them slowly to trace around the entire frame of the door.

When she finished, she dropped her hands and turned to face him. Seeing the slight confusion on his face, she explained, “Silencing spell. Granny has supernatural hearing, remember?”

“You’re bloody brilliant, Swan.” He closed the distance between them, reaching up to sift her blonde locks through his fingers, his deep blue eyes boring into hers. “Now that we’re alone…”

Emma shrugged out of her leather jacket and let it drop to the floor, then ran her hands up the front of his vest and under the shoulders of his heavy, leather coat. Understanding her intention, he pulled his arms free when she pushed it off of him.

“Just how much does that thing weigh?” she asked. “And how the hell do you wear it around all the time?”

He grinned at her. “Is that really what you want to think about right now, Love?”

“You have a point. Besides,” she said mischievously, “I’m sure you’ve carried rum barrels heavier than that, right?”

His brows furrowed. “Come again?”

“Just something your former self said when he was carrying me onto his…your…ship.”

“Bloody wanker,” he grumbled. “I should have hit him harder.”

She began undoing the fasteners on his vest. “Is that really what you want to think about right now?” she asked, echoing his words.

“Too right, Love.”

Once the vest joined his coat on the floor, he removed his hook and placed it on the dresser. Then Emma slid his suspenders off his shoulders and started working on the tiny buttons of his billowy, black shirt. “How do you manage these things with one hand? I can’t unbutton them with two.”

“I don’t mess with the buttons. I simply slide it on over my head.”

“That explains why it’s always open practically to your waist.”

“You’ve noticed that, have you?” he asked with a knowing smirk.

“Kinda hard to miss it, with your whole chest on display.” Lifting her eyes to meet his, she abandoned the buttons and slowly ran her fingers through the hair on his chest that had been teasing her ever since she met him in the Enchanted Forest. Hearing him gasp at the contact, she added, “I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time.”

As her fingertips continued to explore, he dipped his head to capture her lips, his own calloused fingers finding their way under the hem of her turtleneck. He caressed the soft skin he found there, and she moaned into the kiss, “Killian…”

The breathy sound of his name from her sweet lips had him growing hard in an instant. “Swan,” he mumbled, “are you…are you quite sure about this, Love?”

She pulled back to look at him, her pupils dilated with desire. “I told my parents I wouldn’t be home tonight, brought you up to your room, and used magic to make sure no one would hear us. Does that sound like someone who isn’t sure?”

“You told your parents you were going to be with me tonight?”

“Yes. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about them anymore.”

“Agreed,” he chuckled. “Where were we?”

“Right about here,” she said, crossing her arms to grab the bottom of her sweater, then pulling it over her head.

Killian could feel his heartbeat increase as his eyes roamed over her newly bared skin. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t longed for this scenario, but never could he have imagined the absolute perfection of Emma Swan.

“Your turn,” she said, grasping the hem of his shirt to tug it over his head. He tried to stand still as her hands explored the expanse of his chest, moved over his shoulders and down his arms.

He was so busy enjoying her touch and taking in her beautiful form, he had forgotten about his battered, leather brace. When her fingers found it, he involuntarily took a step backwards, pulling his arm away from her.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said soothingly. “It doesn’t bother me.”

His hand rubbed absentmindedly over the brace. “It…it’s ugly, Swan. It’s been a very long time since I’ve allowed anyone to see it.”

“You don’t have to hide it from me, Killian. It’s part of you and I…well, nothing about you could make me…care for you any less.”

Slowly, he stepped back into her space, his eyes never leaving hers. With practiced fingers, he deftly undid the buckles. After hesitating a few moments, he grasped the brace and twisted it off of his arm. Emma took it from him and laid it on the dresser beside his hook, as he removed the protective cloth covering his stump.

She locked eyes with him again, before dropping her gaze to his arm. Placing one hand under his elbow, she lifted it up while the fingers of her other hand gently traced the raised, jagged scars. “It must have been so painful,” she said quietly.

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching at the memory. “I…I don’t remember feeling pain when he…when he cut it off. I’d just witnessed him murder Milah and that pain overshadowed everything else. It wasn’t until later, when a crew member cauterized it, that I finally realized how much it hurt. By that time, my grief and anger had taken over and all I wanted to focus on was plotting my revenge.”

Emma bent to press a kiss to the end of his wrist. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Killian.”

“It’s long in the past, Love. I would much rather look toward the future.” Using his finger to lift her chin, he gave her a smile. Then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. “A future that includes you, I hope.”

In answer, she fused her lips to his, her hands beginning to roam freely over his body. When she slid her hands down inside the back of his trousers and squeezed his ass, he sucked in a ragged breath. “Bloody hell, Swan,” he growled.

“What’s the matter, Captain? Can’t you handle it?”

Before she could utter another word, he skillfully flicked open the button on her jeans and unzipped them. “Let’s see who can’t handle it, shall we?” Then his hand was inside her panties, cupping her mound.

Her surprised gasp turned to a moan of pleasure as his long fingers slid through her slick folds. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already this wet?” he asked, his voice low and husky in her ear.

“I…I’ve wanted this ever since…” She stopped talking and bit her lip.

“Since when, Swan?” he queried.

“Since…Neverland,” she admitted.

Hearing her finally confess her feelings made his own surge through him in a hot rush. He withdrew his hand and lifted her off the floor. Carrying her across the room, he deposited her on the bed. “Take off your boots,” he commanded, beginning to toe off his own.

She happily complied, then began pushing her jeans down her legs. When they reached her knees, she looked up and felt like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

Killian was standing in front of her, arms crossed over his chest, dressed in nothing but his leather pants. They were straining against the huge bulge that was right at her eye level. Without conscious thought, her hands reached for him, rubbing his rigid member through the leather.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, exhaling the words, “I’ve wanted this for a very long time, too, Emma.”

“Then let’s not wait any longer.”

Her fingers set to work unfastening his pants to free his cock, which she promptly began to stroke. At the same time, he reached behind her and worked at the hooks of her bra. When they were undone, his hand and wrist tugged on the straps and her hands left his shaft long enough to wiggle out of it.

While she resumed her exploration of his sizable cock, he fondled her breasts - squeezing, pinching, rubbing and caressing them, murmuring words of praise for their perfection.

Killian suddenly realized how quickly they were working each other up, and put his hand over Emma’s to stop her stroking. “Can we…can we slow down just a bit, Love? I don’t want this to be over too soon.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said breathlessly. “Why don’t we finish getting undressed?”

“Aye,” he agreed.

Both of them removed their remaining clothes and as Emma laid down in the middle of the bed, she pulled Killian down beside her. He pushed himself up to lean on his left elbow, his fingers dancing along the skin of her belly. “Gods, Love. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman than you. You’re absolutely stunning.”

Her hand moved up his forearm and bicep, tracing the hard muscles. “So are you, Killian.”

They explored each other’s body with their hands and mouths, whispered words spoken against skin, between kisses, licks and nips. When Killian’s fingers found their way once again to Emma’s most intimate place, she bucked into his hand, clearly craving more.

He nudged her legs further apart with his knee, then slowly slid one finger into her warm, wet channel. “Tell me how that feels, Love,” he implored.

“Feels…amazing,” she complied, her eyes closing of their own accord and her breath coming out in short gasps.

After gliding in and out of her a few times, he pulled his eyes away from the sight to look up at her. “Are you ready for more?”

She nodded her head, biting her lip in anticipation.

On the next pass, he added a second digit. “So bloody perfect, taking me like that, Swan.”

“Killian, I’m going to…you’re going to make me…” she muttered, trying to speak a coherent sentence.

“Don’t hold back. Just let it happen and enjoy it, Love.”

She took his advice and soon she was clenching tightly around his fingers, the evidence of her orgasm further slickening his fingers. As she throbbed around them, he sought friction by rubbing his hard erection against her thigh, then sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Killiannn…” she moaned throatily.

He withdrew his fingers and chuckled lowly against her breast over her huff of annoyance. “Patience, Love. I have something much more…fulfilling…for that greedy quim.”

Instantly, she shifted onto her side and reached down to grasp his cock. “I’m ready when you are,” she breathed hotly into his ear.

With a growl, he flipped her onto her back, causing her to let out a little yelp of surprise. Then he swung himself over her body, hovering over her. Nuzzling into her neck, he murmured, “I don’t know if you noticed, but I was quite taken with that dress we pilfered during our adventure.”

“You mean the one…that made me look like…a bar wench?” she gasped, enjoying what his mouth was doing to her collarbone.

“Mmm, aye,” he hummed. “It certainly made you quite…distracting. And very enticing. I wanted to bury my face right here.” He licked up between her breasts, chuckling again when she uttered a curse.

Emma’s hands slid between them and wrapped around his girth. Widening her legs, she dragged the tip through her soaked folds. At his groan, she whispered, “You did promise to fulfill me, so fill me, Captain.”

He lifted his head to look into her face, giving her a grin. “As you wish.”

Her hand guided him to where she was aching for him and he slowly pushed into her, inch by glorious inch. Her legs wrapped around his hips, hands moving to scratch along his back, which added to the pleasure he was already experiencing from being buried inside the woman for whom he’d been yearning for months. He dropped his head to her chest, giving her a moment to adjust to him, while getting himself under control so he wouldn’t be on the verge too soon.

When he finally began to move, it was at a slow, steady pace. Experimenting with different angles, he took note of what brought the most response from her.

After several blissful minutes, she murmured, “Killian…”

“Yes, Love?”

“Make me see stars,” she requested breathlessly, reaching behind him to squeeze his buttocks almost painfully.

He kissed her and grinned slyly, determined to meet her challenge. Dropping to his elbows on either side of her, he began thrusting faster and deeper, until he was plunging into her with abandon, eliciting a loud exclamation from her each time he filled her.

He was getting close to his peak, but didn’t want to reach it before she did, so he caught her nipple in his mouth again, alternating flicking it with his tongue and sucking hard. His actions had the desired effect and soon she was screaming through her release, her head thrashing on the pillow, while her throbbing cunt rippled along his engorged cock.

“Bloody…fucking…hell,” he grunted, thrusting eratically, until he exploded, filling her with streams of his hot release. Not wanting to crush her, he rolled them over, sprawling her sweat-slicked body over his own.

Neither knew how long they laid there, trying to get their breathing and heart rates under control. He heard her mumble something into his chest, but couldn’t make out the words. Raising his leaden arm, he brushed her hair away from her face. “What did you say, Love?”

She lifted her face to peer into his. “You did it.”

“Did what?” he asked, thoroughly puzzled.

“Made me see stars…and several planets.”

He laughed, then pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “I’m glad to hear it, because you definitely did the same for me.”

“Good thing I soundproofed the room, huh?”

“Aye, Love. I don’t think I would be able to meet Granny’s eyes tomorrow morning if you hadn’t.”

It was her turn to laugh. As they lay in silence, she skimmed her fingers through the hair on his chest, enjoying the sighs of pleasure from him.

After several peaceful minutes, Emma said, “Killian?”

“Hmm?”

“I would have chosen you.”

He opened his eyes to see her looking at him earnestly. “Chosen me for what?”

“Remember back in Neverland when you told me I would have to choose between you and Neal?”

“Aye.”

“Even if Neal hadn’t…died, I still would have chosen you.”

He lifted his head from the pillow to peer at her more closely. “Truly?”

“Yeah. Well, to be honest, it wasn’t ever a contest between the two of you.” She watched him studying her closely, before adding, “Is that difficult for you to believe?”

“I saw how much his death impacted you and thought perhaps, given the chance, the two of you might have rekindled your relationship.”

“We actually had a really nice conversation just before I realized he was sharing a body with his father, and I felt like we were in a good place with each other at the end. Neal will always be my first love and Henry’s father, so he has a special spot in my heart; but…after what he did to me, I would have never been able to completely trust him. You, on the other hand, have never given me any reason not to trust you. You’ve proven time and time again that you’re in my corner, that you believe in me…”

“Of course I do, Emma. You’re the most determined and assiduous woman I’ve ever met. I trust you with my life…and my heart.”

She tilted her head and smiled softly. “I trust you with mine, too. I think you know me well enough to know I didn’t come to that decision lightly.”

He reached up to twist a lock of her hair around his finger. “Aye, that I do. I feel incredibly honored to hold your trust, Love, especially when not so very long ago, you chained me at the top of a beanstalk because you didn’t trust me.”

“That’s not why I chained you there.”

“No?” he questioned.

She shook her head. “If you recall, I told you I couldn’t take the chance of being wrong about you. Even then, I sensed I could trust you, and that scared the shit out of me.”

“That’s because you thought I was nothing but a pirate, as did the rest of your family. Your father used those exact words in Neverland.”

“Yeah, well, you proved us all wrong.” She cupped his face in the palm of her hand. “You’re a good man, Killian Jones.”

He smiled. “During our adventure back in the Enchanted Forest, when Dave didn’t know who I was, he told me your parents would be crazy not to approve of me as your suitor. I told him I hoped he would remember that.”

“He’s coming around. Give him time and you’ll probably end up being his best friend.”

He wrapped his arms around her more tightly, taking advantage of having her naked form pressed against him. She laid her head on his chest, humming happily.

Later, when they were cleaned up and she was asleep in his arms, wearing nothing but one of his thin black shirts, their conversation ran through his mind again. When Neal died, he saw how grief-stricken Emma was, and assumed she would have chosen the other man, had he lived. He was Henry’s father, after all, and Killian thought that connection between Emma and Neal would be enough for her to try to make their relationship work.

Hearing her say she would have chosen Killian made him happier than he had been for centuries. He fell asleep with his nose buried in her hair and a smile on his face. Tomorrow, they would probably face some sort of crisis, but tonight, Emma Swan was his and hopefully would remain his for the long haul.

*********

I hope you agree that this is a scene we all needed!

TAG LIST:

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4 @hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling @andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @zaharadessert @lyssapup27 @undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat @teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90 @apiratewhopines

#long overdue conversations #part 4 #emma & killian #jrob64 #art by jrob 64 #cs missing scene #captain swan fanfic #cs smut #set at the end of season 3

44 notes · View notes

hollyethecurious · 7 months

Text

CS AU: Pan Says... (8/?)

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

A/N: Look at me getting another chapter up within a month of the previous update! I can't tell y'all how much your replies, reblogs, comments, likes, kudos have meant to me.

I have plotted out the remainder of this story and I believe we'll have 2-3 more chapters. It all depends on how wordy I get, lol. The muse has been very generous as of late, so fingers crossed that I can wrap this up before I need to work on my supernatural summer fic in earnest.

Lots of love to @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4 for their exceptional beta skills!

Rated E /Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven

Chapter Prompts: I received a couple of prompts asking for the scenarios I've mentioned in this update. I have glanced over them a bit, though. I hope the prompters won't mind.

Warnings: Mentions of anal sex, edging, mutual masturbation, exhibitionism and voyeurism.

Part Eight

Killian collapsed back onto the bed, thoroughly spent and utterly exhausted. The mattress shook from the way Emma’s legs were quivering, her knees and upper body anchored to the bed with her ass in the air, still presented. The ass he’d just taken as a way of technically complying to Pan’s most recent command without actually doing the thing he knew Pan had meant for him to do.

Pan Says… come inside her this time.

The command had only been issued to Killian; a new twist to this particular round of the game. Instructions were given to only one of them at a time, usually when the other was in the lavatory or still asleep, and no longer delivered audibly. They were not permitted to share what the exact instruction was with each other, and had to therefore trust that their compliance to the other’s words was what Pan required.

The morning after their reunion was when it had all started. He’d come back from relieving himself to find Emma awake and looking slightly confused and distressed.

“Swan? What is it? What happened?”

“I… I can’t tell you,” she said. “He said I’m not supposed to tell you I just have to…”

Killian climbed back into bed and took her hand in his. “It’s alright, love,” he assured her. “Whatever it is he’s told you, you won’t have to go through it alone.”

Her eyes flicked up to his, swirling with contrition and a sense of determination. “I know,” she replied. Pushing against his chest, she forced him to lay back as she began to peel his pajama pants down his legs. “I need you to pay attention, because” she paused, swallowed hard, then wet her lips. “Swan says… everything I’m about to do to you, you will have to reciprocate in kind.”

Those next two days they had licked and kissed and sucked and branded and tongued every inch of each other. Exploring one another’s body with nothing more than their mouths.

The third day of Round Three had them experimenting with various toys and apparatus. He’d been told to edge her all day with the various wands and vibrators as she lay tied up from the four corners of the bed. It had been torture. Reducing her to a whimpering, begging, desperate collection of moans, tears, and sobs when all he wanted to do was alleviate the torment. But he’d dared not. Not after the last time they had disobeyed.

He was certain he would get his comeuppance on day four, especially when they woke to a basket of anal toys, in an assortment of styles and sizes. All Pan had required of them that day, however - delivered through a Swan Says… - was to shower and then fit each other with a plug, presumably to begin the process for more anal play later on.

Knowing they both had to be live wires of pent up sexual frustration by this point, day five had been mutual masturbation day.

“Your Captain says… touch yourself, love,” Killian instructed, stroking his cock as he watched Emma pleasure herself.

They had shared a total of eleven orgasms that day, and had become further acquainted with the various toys and butt plugs Pan insisted not go to waste.

Now, day six, Killian was allowed to penetrate his Swan with something other than his tongue or his fingers or a bit of vibrating silicone, but only under one condition… that he finish inside her.

Pan never said anything about it having to be in her cunt, so he’d taken advantage of the ambiguity by taking her ass instead, since they’d both been stretching and preparing themselves for anal play.

And fuck him if it hadn’t felt amazing - the defiance and the tight, forbidden depths in which he’d just spilled himself. Glancing over at Emma, her face shimmering from a sheen of sweat with an expression of sated and elated ecstasy, he knew she had enjoyed it too… but then of course, she did not know the full reason as to why he’d taken her ass and not her pussy.

She was no longer protected from the threat of an unwanted pregnancy.

“Wow,” Emma exhaled. “That was…”

“Don’t try and move too much,” he told her as he reached over and helped ease her into a more comfortable position. “Just rest. I’ll go get something to clean us up.”

“And some water,” she called out after him.

“Aye. And water,” he responded, as though he needed reminding.

He didn’t.

A week into Round Three and they had already settled into a routine. A week-long marathon of teasing, edging, training, and orgasms. A week of them taking orders from one another, of placing a new form of trust in the other’s hands. A week of them not talking about what had happened in the weeks before, or more to the point… the moments before this round had begun.

Swallowing thickly, he pulled back and softly whispered, “I love you, Emma.” Then captured her lips before she could reply.

“I think that’s enough sharing for one day,” Pan’s curt tone crackled over the speakers, forcing them apart. “In fact, Pan says no more talking until Round Three begins… which shall be first thing tomorrow morning. Sleep well.”

Killian’s jaw tightened as he watched Emma open and then close her mouth with longing and uncertainty swirling in her gaze. Squeezing his hand, she rolled off the bed and padded her way to the lav. Afterward, they both got dressed and curled up next to one another in bed, the silence between them deafening.

In the past week, she had not reciprocated those words and he had not uttered them again. Not because he hadn’t meant them, because he had. He did. He does. He regretted saying it, though. Regretted giving Pan more ammunition to use against them. Regretted having the memory of those words first said here, in this setting, under these circumstances. Regretted putting her on the spot when he knew, even if she felt the same, she couldn’t possibly be ready to say it back to him. And that was okay. He never wanted to push or pressure her, they had enough to contend with from the outside demands of their ‘host’. So, for now, all he wanted was to try and make things as easy for her as he could. To protect her and safeguard her to the best of his ability… even if that meant not talking about it and fucking her in the ass in order to keep her from getting pregnant.

“I have something special planned for you,” Pan said, startling him as they finished their aftercare routine. “But it requires a bit of a field trip.”

Confused, they both looked at one another then towards the door as it opened. Killian took her hand as they stood, placing himself in front of her as he always did when they were instructed to leave their cell.

“Pan says to follow the purple line until it ends, then wait for further instructions.”

The purple line? That was a new one. They’d never been instructed to follow that one before. He knew blue led to the showers, green to the rooftop terrace, and yellow to the room where he’d been injected with supposed poison after disobeying Pan’s rules. Emma had told him that she thought the Lost One had carried her along the red line when she’d been taken after their night of lovemaking, so Killian had deduced (and kept the knowledge to himself) that it had led to the medical procedure room.

Following the purple stripe to its unknown destination, Killian made a mental note of the route and cataloged it alongside the other colors. Of course, there was still an orange and black line. Their destination was also a mystery to him, which made making a mental map of the facility difficult, but he attempted to do so nonetheless.

The path ended in a narrow passageway in front of a pane of darkened glass. A hidden panel behind them slid closed, shutting them inside the dead end. Before either of them could question what was happening, the pane in front of them lit up. It wasn’t just glass. It was a window, looking out onto a circular room with tiers of seats that were shielded by thin, see-through screens, their occupants only noticeable in silhouette.

Emma reached out and banged on the window, trying to get someone’s attention, but her efforts were ignored. When someone did pass by - a woman donning an elaborate mask that hid her identity, but not her vanity - and paused to check her red hair, Killian realized…

“It’s a mirror,” he murmured. “A two-way mirror. They can’t see us.”

“Not yet, anyway.” Pan’s voice echoed through the small room. “Besides… their attention is focused elsewhere at the moment.”

Emma gasped, pulling Killian’s focus to where her wide eyes were trained. In the center, lowest level of the room was a rotating platform, and on that platform were two people engaging in various sex acts whilst the spectators behind the screens watched.

“What the fuck is this?”

“An intimate gathering I host one weekend of each month for like-minded friends. Three days of exhibitionist delights and debauched voyeuristic entertainment. This is the second night.”

He paused as dread rolled through Killian’s stomach. His next words made bile creep up his throat.

“You two will be night three’s entertainment.”

“Fuck that!”

“You can’t be bloody serious!”

“I am serious enough that I’m willing to offer you your reward before you meet the terms of my… request.”

Emma scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “There is nothing you could offer that would make either of us--”

“Not even a chance to reach out to your friends and family so you can inform them that you are not only alive, but also in need of their help?”

They both balked then stared at one another. He couldn’t be serious.

“Why would you let us do that?” Killian inquired.

“Because I require your full compliance so that my guests get the experience they’ve paid for. I am, therefore, prepared to compensate you accordingly.”

“In advance?” Emma clarified. “You’d risk us agreeing and notifying our loved ones of the truth only to back out later?”

Pan’s tone sent a chill up Killian’s spine and he knew Emma had been affected by the hushed warning as well.

“I would advise against such schemes. You do not wish to fathom how far I will go in punishing those who embarrass me in front of my guests.”

“What if we simply refuse all together?” Killian asked, knowing there had to be a penalty of equal weight to the reward being offered.

“Then your association with one another is of no further use to me, and I shall reassign you to partners with whom you might be a bit more agreeable to my requests.”

Emma pressed herself into Killian’s side as he protectively wrapped his arms around her waist. They clung to one another, each of them eyeing the door with the fear that it might open and Lost Ones would be waiting to pry them apart.

“The choice is yours,” Pan said. “I’ll give you some time to consider your options.” The panel slid open, revealing the corridor beyond. “Pan says to return to your room. Further information regarding tomorrow night’s entertainment will be waiting for you.”

~/~

Emma couldn’t stop the tremors coursing through her body. She wasn’t sure how she had made it back to their cell on such shaky legs, and the items awaiting them once they’d returned had done nothing to help alleviate her body’s physical response to the dread and anxiety overwhelming her.

In the center of the room was a table that held an old fashioned, corded phone. It had only three buttons on the dial panel; one labeled Nolan, one labeled Liam, and one labeled Decline. Next to the phone was a binder, and within it were the rules, expectations, and procedures for the night of entertainment she and Killian were meant to supply to Pan and his perverted guests.

A note also accompanied the binder. It read, Pan says to discuss the instructions in full before making your choice. Should you choose to comply, make your calls accordingly. Should you choose to decline, press the appropriate button and my Lost Ones will see to your reassignment.

“Say something,” Killian pleaded. Having read through the binder aloud, he’d tossed it over his shoulder then slumped forward with his head in his hands and his elbows braced against his knees.

“What is there to say?” she said, on the edge of panic. “We can’t refuse him. I can’t… I can’t lose you. I can’t let someone else… I can’t--”

“Hey. Hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, gathering her in his arms and cradling her against his chest. “I know.” His lips brushed the crown of her head and his chest rose and fell from a deep, fortifying breath. “But we have to discuss it. We have to talk it through. I won’t give him any reason to separate us. No loopholes.”

Emma nodded and pulled back so she could stare up into his face. “You’re right. We have to follow his instructions to the letter if we want to avoid penalty or punishment, and as much as I really don’t relish the idea of having to” -she gestured towards the binder- “do that. The idea of being forced apart makes me…”

“Aye. Me, too.” Reaching back he picked up the binder and opened it across his lap. “The good news is… none of the spectators are allowed to touch us or participate physically in any of the acts we perform on one another.”

“Yeah,” Emma groused. “They just get to dictate what acts we perform.”

Pan’s guests essentially got to be him for a night. Each of them would be able to make suggestions and vote on what sort of acts they wanted to see their entertainment perform on one another. Those requests would then be relayed to them through an ear bud or in some other manner.

Requests involving excessive violence or anything that might leave a permanent mark would not be permitted. She and Killian would have their identity obscured through the use of a domino mask and could opt to have an alias used in lieu of their actual names as well. Of course, they both had distinguishing features that could give away their identities, but what were the odds of them ever encountering these people again?

“Do you want to fill out the form first?” Killian asked, referring to the questionnaire Pan had provided, allowing them each to select up to ten items they absolutely would not consent to. “Or we could go over it together, if you’d prefer?”

If she’d prefer? Did it even matter anymore as to what she would prefer?

Emma’s chest tightened and her stomach dropped as the periphery of her vision darkened and blurred spots floated in her vision. A dull ringing began to develop in her ears, strengthening in its tone, pitch, and volume as the pressure in her lungs grew critical and she realized she’d been holding her breath. Rage bubbled up from her stomach and despair stung the corners of her eyes.

This was it, she realized. This was her breaking point. Emma had absolutely had enough.

Launching herself off the bed she stomped to the center of the room and rounded on Killian. “No! I don’t want to go over the questionnaire! I don’t want to discuss everything involved with tomorrow night’s entertainment! I don’t want to do any of this! I want to go home!”

Hysterics overtook her and she crumpled to the floor, but not before Killian wrapped her up in his arms to help break her fall. Clinging to him, she wept into his shoulder, her body practically convulsing from the release of pent up emotions and strain.

“I know, love,” Killian murmured, his voice tight and gravely from his own held back emotions. He continued to comfort her with soft words of nonsense as his hand caressed soothing circles over her back. After several long minutes, she could feel dampness against her hairline and when she pulled back to glance up, she found it was because Killian had started shedding tears of his own.

A few hiccups escaped her as she tried to calm herself. Killian’s hands cupped her face and he brushed away her tears with the pads of his thumbs before pressing his forehead to hers.

“Just you and me, love,” he whispered. “We will face this new degradation as we have all the others. Together.”

Pulling back, he brushed her hair away from her face, carding his fingers through the long strands and gently scratching her scalp in the way he knew she liked. “We will forget about Pan and those who have come to witness our debasement and focus only on one another. Aye?”

“Aye,” she replied in a sorry attempt to mimic his accent, which pulled a small smile from him. Flicking her gaze up to meet his, she said, “I’m sorry. I--”

“You never have to apologize to me, love,” he replied, wrapping her in his arms again and holding her tightly to his chest. “It’s a wonder we’ve both gone this long since our last breaking point.”

Emma laughed mirthlessly. He had a point. This certainly wasn’t the first time one of them had fallen to pieces and thrown a well deserved tantrum, allowing the homesickness, injustice, and despair to spill over from their boiling points. Allowing him to pick her up off the floor, she tried to bury the worry about whether or not it would be the last.

“What would you say,” Killian began, leading them back over to the bed and sitting them on the edge, “to us choosing our false names, our aliases as it were, and proceeding in those personas as a way of distancing ourselves from it?”

“You mean like… pretending this is all happening to someone else?”

“In a way.” Killian took her hand and threaded his fingers between hers. “It might allow us to… dissociate from having to fully experience it ourselves if we think about it happening to… The Captain and… whatever pseudonym you might select for yourself, instead.”

Emma rolled her bottom lips between her teeth and considered the suggestion. It would be like role play. The audience wouldn’t be seeing them, wouldn’t be controlling them, they’d be witnessing two characters crafted to play out a role that was separate from the actors themselves. The thought of that released a bit more of tension she was holding onto and an exhale passed over her lips, carrying her agreement.

“Yes. I like that idea.” Cocking her head to one side, she looked up at him with a teasing smirk and taunted, “The Captain?”

A blush bloomed across his cheeks and tinted the tips of his ears as he reached up to paw at the patch of skin behind his jawline. “Aye. Uh… I thought it might serve as a fitting moniker.”

“Hmmm,” Emma hummed with a coy glint in her eye. “I like it.” Wetting her lips, which almost always centered his focus on her mouth, Emma dipped her gaze then flicked it back up, peering at him from beneath her lashes as she sultrily inquired, “Would the Captain be agreeable to having a naughty Wench at his side for tomorrow’s night entertainment?”

A wicked smile stretched across his lips, and she could see the gleam of relief and pride flicker in his eyes before they turned dark and heated. “Oh, aye,” he replied in a deep timbre that damn near made her toes curl. “I think the Captain would enjoy a naughty Wench’s companionship very much indeed.” Plucking a paper from the binder, he held it out to her and with his Captain’s voice ordered, “Be a good little Wench and fill this out so your Captain knows all the deplorable things he’ll get to do to you.”

“Aye, aye… Captain.”

Part Nine

#csff #cs ff #csfic #cs fic #cs au #cs smut #pans says...#captain swan #words by hollye

43 notes · View notes

bullet-prooflove · 6 months

Text

Clean: Trey Cahill x Reader

Tagging: @@mariashane @kj77 @tiredmarshmellowuwu @choppedgalaxynerd @herwordslikebutterflywings @flopiboni @words-and-seeds @aiko24k @@kane-nero-6 @wabi-sabi1090 @kmc1989

Trey used to traffic drugs. His dealer used to give him ten grand to transport a few bricks of coke over the border into Arizona under the guise of delivering one of the classic cars he’d been restoring to a buyer.

It was usually a five hour trip to the stash house. He’d drop off the merchandise, take his cut and then get high in a shitty roadside motel. He’d stay there for days until he was right again to drive the five hours back to Vegas.

He doesn’t do that crap anymore, he hasn’t since Folsom got him into rehab two years ago. That’s when he got serious about restoration, started turning a profit on the garage, building a client base. He may not ask where all of his spare parts come from for the sake of plausible deniability but the heavy stuff, he’s out of it.

If he gets caught it’s not just his life he fucks up, it’s yours too. You’re already getting shit for dating a former criminal, you will never admit it to him but Folsom had filled Trey in after the scuffle with the defence attorney. That stuff, it reflects badly on you, it puts you under scrutiny.

He’s kept his nose clean since then. He’s stopped going to the bars with all the shady shit going on, lost contact with the people who could suck him back into that life, tossed his burner phones. He’s gone completely legit.

He has his head tucked under the bonnet of a 1969 Chevy Corvette when Killian turns up at the garage. There’s a problem with the starter, he’s still trying to figure it out when he hears someone clearing their throat behind him. He knows it’s Killian, even before he glances over his shoulder. He’s been trying to get a hold of him for days now, putting the word out through the people they used to have in common for Trey to get in touch because he needs the cars to move product.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls.” Killian says as Trey straightens up and turns to face him.

He’s leaning against the hood of a Stingray Trey’s been tuning up, his hands are tucked into the pockets of his black leather jacket. He looks more haggard than the last time Trey saw him. Dipping into his own supply, Trey thinks.

“That’s not my life anymore.” Trey tells him as he picks up the rag from his work bench and uses it to clean the grease from his hands. “I thought you would have got the message when I stopped buying drugs from you.”

“Hm.” Killian says as he holds up a baggie of coke between two fingers. “So I assume you don’t want this.”

This is how it starts, he remembers. A freebie, a little fun, before he knows it he’s five grand in the hole, doing ‘jobs’ to pay off his debt.

“Do you think I’m really that weak?” Trey laughs, crossing his arms over his chest trying to ignore the twitch in his fingers. “That I’m going to jump back into bed with you because you offer me a bump.”

“I think if I leave this here.” Killian says setting the baggie down on the workbench alongside Trey. “I’ll be getting a call from you in a couple of hours’ time for a little more.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” Trey bites back and Killian gives him that smile, the one that sets Trey’s teeth on edge.

“Once an addict…” Killian says, pushing the baggie towards him. “…always an addict.”

It’s a few hours later that you turn up at the garage. The lights are still on despite the late hour. Part of you is worried and the other part pissed because Trey was supposed to meet you for dinner tonight at that little Chinese place you both like. You’d sat there for an hour before you realised he wasn’t coming. He hasn’t been picking up his calls or his texts.

When you step inside you find him hunched over the workbench with his head in his hands. Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder and he flinches at the sensation before he turns his head to look at you. His eyes are red rimmed, the vibrant blue shining through the frustrated tears as the muscle in his jaw clenches.

“Trey.” You say softly and he takes a sharp inhale of breath before he tilts his head towards something on the workbench.

“I need you to get rid of it.” He says, his voice pained as you follow his gaze to the baggie of coke. “If I touch it…”

He trails off because he doesn’t need to say anything else.

Two years sobriety, everything he’s worked for, it’ll be gone and he can’t go back to that place, not when he’s come so far. But the thing is he can’t seem to help himself. His mouth is dry, his fingers itch, he can feel himself giving in and he’s powerless to stop it.

You pick up the baggie and tuck it into your pocket. The relief is visible, Trey exhales for the first time in what seems like hours, the tension seems to flood out of his body as he uses the back of his hand to wipe across his eyes.

“I need to know what happened tonight.” You say quietly. “How this ended up here.”

If it were anyone else including Folsom he’d lie, say one of his customers dropped it because he wouldn’t want them to know about all the bad shit he’s done in the past. But it’s you and he’s always been honest with you and that’s not about to change today.

He tells you everything, from the product he used to move for Killian, to the nights he spent high as kite. You listen quietly, your hand holding his and he’s grateful for that because being here with you, it keeps him anchored, it reminds him that he’s more than just his addiction.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He says quietly as he clasps your hand to his cheek. “Really I don’t.”

Love Trey? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#trey csi vegas #trey cahill x reader #trey cahill #trey cahill x you #trey x reader #trey x you #csi vegas #csi #trey csi

21 notes · View notes

coneyislandbabey · 1 year

Text

with a girl like you. -> k.sirko

WARNINGS: profanities

SYNOPSIS: you first cross paths with Karen Sirko when your band is recording your first album. After the fact, you can't get her out of your head; turns out, Karen's been feeling the same way. word count: 1,537

NOTES: written for this request! I love Karen so much she's my wife fr

The evening was unseasonably cold for Los Angeles. You tightened your leather jacket around your body as you took another drag of your cigarette. It had been an extremely long day; your band, Neptune, were partaking in your first recording session under the guidance of Teddy Price, and the hours had run far longer than you’d expected. But really, you had no idea what to expect before you stepped foot in the studio. Prior to this day, all you guys had done was play bars that paid you next to nothing. Teddy had noticed you running ragged and allowed you a five minute smoke break to ‘reinvigorate yourself’, as he put it.

You leaned your head against the brick wall, closing your eyes and letting the cold air wash over you. One more second, and you’ll go back inside and work your ass off for a few more hours, or forever, or somewhere in between– whatever it took to make Teddy Price satisfied.

You hadn’t heard the door open or realized that someone had joined you outside until she spoke.

“Can I get a light?” she asked, and your eyes snapped open. A blonde woman was standing next to you, a gentle smile that reached her dark eyes playing on her lips. She was vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint where from.

“Sure thing,” you nodded, producing your lighter from your jacket pocket. She lifted her cigarette to her lips and brought her face close. You cupped your hand around the flame to shelter it from the wind as you lit it for her.

She took a drag, blowing the smoke from her lips a moment later. It curled around her head, hazy and blue in the moonlight. “I’m Karen, by the way.”

“Oh!” you said, snapping your fingers. “From the Six, right? I really dig your album.”

Karen’s smile widened briefly. “Thanks, we’re almost done with our second one now. I’m here recording some overdubs of my keys.”

“In that case, I can’t wait to hear it,” you said. “I’m (y/n), I sing lead for Neptune. We’re recording our first album in there. Just started, actually.”

“An adventure begins,” Karen nodded solemnly and you laughed, nodding.

“Well, I better get back in there. My five minutes ended about two minutes ago,” you said, stubbing your cigarette out on the wall next to you.

“Well, best of luck,” Karen said. “I’ll be looking for your album.”

“Thanks,” you grinned. “See you around, Karen.”

When The Six’s second record, SevenEightNine, came out, you bought it on release day. It was wonderful, better, even, than their first, and you wanted to tell Karen that. You had found yourself thinking of the blonde often, though you hadn’t had the chance to talk to her again since that night outside of the studio. You wouldn’t be seeing her any time soon, unfortunately, because the Six were already touring again. You hoped you could coax Teddy into getting you tickets for a home show when they were back in Los Angeles.

Meanwhile, recording your own album was going better than you ever could have hoped. You and your bassist, Talia, and your drummer, Killian, did most of the writing, and the three of you had been more creatively in tune since you started recording than ever before. The full vision of the album was quickly coming together, and Teddy had even told you all that he really thought he had something special on his hands.

The months passed quickly, spending every day in the studio. Before you knew it, the recording was over, and you and Kieran were spending all of your time in the tiny soundbooth, mixing with Teddy and Tobias. Soon enough, that part was over, too, and your first album was going out into the world. Your first single reached number eight on the charts, and your second single reached number nine. All in all, for a first album, it was an auspicious chart.

You were riding the high of a successful record release the second time you ran into Karen Sirko. You were in a bar with your band, celebrating the contract you had just signed with Ellemar for a thirty city tour.

“You again,” she said, sidling up to the bar next to you. You jumped, surprised at her sudden appearance, and she smiled to herself as she ordered a drink.

“You have quite the talent for sneaking up on me,” you said by way of greeting.

“And you have quite the talent for singing,” she responded smoothly. “I bought your record.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow and took a sip of your drink, waiting to hear what she thought of it.

“It was captivating,” she went on, “I think I played it every day those last two weeks of tour.”

“Well, that really means a lot, coming from you,” you said earnestly.

“Why, ‘cause my band’s record is topping charts right now?” she asked cynically.

“No, actually,” you downed the rest of your drink. “I’ve admired your keys since the first album. I saw the Six perform once, you know, before you joined. You elevate every song to a level that would just be impossible to reach without you.”

“Well,” she said, ducking her head to hide a smile. Karen was cute, you decided, when she was flustered. She gathered herself and looked at you again, eyes bright as she pulled two cigarettes out of her jeans pocket and held them up. “Smoke break?”

“I’ve got the light,” you said, patting the pocket of your jacket holding your lighter. Karen smirked, leading the way towards the side exit into the alley.

Once outside, you went to pull your lighter out, but before you could Karen hooked her fingers in your belt loop, pushing your pelvis back into the wall. Her lips were on yours a millisecond later, hot and needy and persistent. The surprise passed a moment later, and you wound your hands in Karen’s blonde locks, pulling her closer to you. Her lips left your mouth and began leaving a hot trail of kisses across your jaw and down your neck. You sucked in a breath, chest heaving as you tried to keep quiet.

“Karen,” you managed to get out, and the girl lifted her head, a mischievous smirk on her face. “Let’s go back to my place.” Without a word, she grabbed your hand and tugged you towards the mouth of the alley.

The next morning, you woke up naked, tangled in your sheets and not alone. Karen was asleep next to you, the morning sun gleaming gold on her messy hair and bare shoulders. You grinned when you noticed the mottled maroon hickies on the sliver of her collarbone visible above the sheets, admiring your handiwork. You were admiring the whole woman, really, admiring the fact that someone like Karen Sirko could end up in your bed.

You shifted on the mattress and Karen stirred, rolling onto her back and stretching her arms above her head. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and then turned to you, a soft smile gracing her face. You liked seeing her like this, serene and golden and all yours, the two of you tucked away from the world.

“Morning,” she said, and you decided right then that you loved the gravelly tone of her morning voice.

“Morning,” you grinned. “You like coffee?”

“Mm. Love it,” she responded, her eyes falling closed once again. You suppressed the urge to giggle at this new, languid morning Karen, instead standing from the bed. You pulled last night’s underwear back up your legs from where it had been discarded next to the bed, threading your arms through your silk robe and cinching it tight before heading to the kitchen.

You were pouring coffee into two mugs when you heard Karen’s light footsteps padding into the kitchen. She came to a stop behind you, her narrow fingers pulling your robe down to expose your shoulder, pressing a kiss into the bare skin. You turned around, presenting one of the mugs to her, and she gladly accepted, immediately bringing it to her lips.

The two of you stood for a while in comfortable silence, enjoying your coffee. Eventually, Karen put her mug down on the island and gazed at you, an appraising look on her face.

“What?” you asked, raising a brow.

“This…” she said, motioning her hands between the two of you. “This is just fun, right? Because I don’t want to lead you into thinking I can give you something that I can’t–”

“Karen,” you interrupted, because she seemed to be getting more worked up by the moment. “Yes, it’s just fun. I leave for tour soon, anyway. And I would never expect anything from you. But I am happy that I’ve got you the way I do.”

Karen grinned, and you could see the relief flood her features. “Good, because I really like having you the way I do, too.”

You crossed the distance between the two of you, settling your hands on her waist and leaning in to kiss her.

“You got any place to be this morning?” you asked.

“For you, I’m free as a bird.”

#daisy jones and the six #djats #karen sirko #karen karen #karen sirko x reader #daisy jones #warren rhodes #warren rojas #eddie roundtree #eddie loving #graham dunne #camila dunne #billy dunne #julia dunne #teddy price

121 notes · View notes

hookedonapirate · 3 months

Text

I’LL WAIT A LIFETIME OR TWO

Summary:

At forty, Emma Swan is living her best life. She's happily single and owns a thriving art gallery with her best friend Elsa. And of course, there's the love of her life, her teenage son, Henry.

Since the divorce three years ago, her carefully curated life has been quiet, peaceful, ordinary. She couldn’t ask for anything more. So why does the one guy she ends up falling for have to be the rockstar her son has a poster of on his bedroom wall, whose life is nothing short of extraordinary?

The Idea of You AU

Rated: M

AO3

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6

CHAPTER SIX

Colors bleed into one another like a masterfully painted canvas—streaks of pink and orange fading to purple as the sun dips into the horizon. Killian and I are poring over the menus in a cozy booth tucked away in a recessed alcove on the terrace, the ocean waves crashing into the shore. Twinkling lights are strung through the trees, illuminating the lush gardens. Flames flicker in the fire pits dotting the landscape, and soft music drifts through the air, creating an enchanting atmosphere.

His eyes rove over my red dress before his gaze catches mine, and he flashes me one of those heart-stopping grins that has my stomach doing a somersault. “Swan, have I told you how ravishing you look tonight?”

I manage a laugh, the familiar warmth creeping into my cheeks. “About four times already.” Twice during the car ride, once after he handed the keys to the valet and once again when we were shown to our seats. Though, neither time failed to make my cheeks heat.

“Is this place okay?”

I set down the menu and sit back, resting my hands in my lap as my eyes sweep over the alcove, taking in the fairy tale setting—a perfect blend of elegance and intimacy, with dark wood accents, plush seating and candlelit tables, the air filled with the scent of blooming flowers, sea salt and delicious food. “It’s perfect.” My eyes come back to his, lips twitching into a smirk. “But honestly, you could’ve taken me to Mcdonalds and I’d be happy as a clam.”

He chuckles, a deep, hearty sound that sends goosebumps over my skin.

He thinks I’m joking.

“I almost opted for Nobu, but I wasn’t sure if you liked sushi,” he says.

My eyes widen. “Are you kidding? I love sushi.”

His smile is a thing of beauty, lighting up his features in a way that rivals the setting sun. He extends his hand under the table, seeking mine, and when our fingers intertwine, electricity zips through me. His touch is warm, firm yet tender. “Good to know for next time.”

Next time?

There goes my stomach again, doing another somersault.

I love the idea of next time.

“I should’ve known you loved sushi. Henry gets his good taste from his beautiful mum.”

A blushing smile crosses my lips, and I squeeze his hand, my heart pounding as I fight off the urge to pull him closer and kiss him. Even though we’re cocooned in a pocket of privacy within the restaurant’s lush gardens, we’re not entirely invisible. A few of Killian’s acquaintances have already made their way over, each receiving a nod or a handshake from him.

When he introduced me as his art consultant, I played along, grateful for the anonymity the title afforded me. I have no desire to become tabloid fodder, especially not when my heart is tangled in a situation it shouldn’t be. I’m supposed to be on a date with a furniture shop owner, not dining with a rockstar.

As we chat, I’m acutely aware of Killian’s hand in mine, the warmth of his skin, the strength of his grip, and I’m imagining what it would be like to be alone with him—truly alone. The possibilities send a rush of heat through my veins.

When his thumb traces gentle circles on my skin, tiny shivers shoot up my arm. The contact is tender, intimate, and I can’t help the way my breath catches just a little. Then he frees my hand briefly, making me miss his warmth, but it’s only long enough for the server to approach, jot down our orders and retrieve the menus from us.

“So, where is Henry tonight?” The softness in Killian’s voice matches the touch of his hand as he slips his palm into mine, threading our fingers together once more.

“He’s staying over at Roland’s house.” I take a sip of my pinot noir, savoring the rich bouquet of ripe cherries, a hint of spice and subtle earthy undertones. But the alcohol does nothing to soothe the fluttering in my chest.

He arches an eyebrow. “Is that the lad who was at Coachella with you?”

I nod, smiling. “Yeah, they’ve been best friends since elementary school.”

He leans back, a half-smirk playing on his lips as he watches me with an intensity that feels like it could pierce right through our casual facade. “That’s nice.” His eyes narrow slightly, a playful glint in them. “Did you tell Henry I was at your house for lunch the other day?”

I can’t help but laugh at the thought, picturing Henry’s reaction. His jaw would be on the floor, his expressive green eyes would grow impossibly wide and he’d launch into a barrage of questions, each one more incredulous than the last. “No way. He would lose his mind if he knew you were there. He’d probably also be furious with me for not including him.”

His thumb strokes the back of my hand beneath the table, a clandestine gesture that sends ripples of warmth through me. “Will you tell him you ditched your date to have dinner with me?”

I sigh, shaking my head. “No, probably not.” My fingers tighten around the stem of my glass, the truth settling heavy on my tongue. “I wouldn’t even know what to tell him at this point.” How could I possibly explain to my son that the man whose name alone would send him into a frenzy is the same man who turns my insides into liquid?

“Fair enough.” Killian squeezes my hand gently. He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand answers or declarations, and I’m grateful for it. Grateful for this moment of reprieve, where I can simply exist beside him without the weight of explanations hanging over us. “You don’t have to tell him anything right now. We’re just having dinner, right?” There’s a lilt of playfulness in his voice that makes his British accent even more pronounced, a wink accompanying his words.

I smile wryly, the tension easing from my shoulders. “Right. Just dinner.”

But we both know this isn’t just dinner. Just like lunch wasn’t just lunch.

“What about Elsa?” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice.

I can picture her now, her raised eyebrow, the knowing look she’d give me if she were here, witnessing Killian’s thumb caress mine. She would see right through our charade of “just dinner” without missing a beat.

As I’m about to respond, the waiter arrives with a basket of warm bread and a dish of herb-infused olive oil. Killian thanks him and offers the basket to me before taking a piece.

I break mine in half, dipping it into the olive oil.

We take a bite, and I savor the warm, fluffy texture as I continue our conversation. “I told her we went out to lunch but that it was only business. I think she’s on to me.” I’ll have to figure out how to tell her and Henry about Killian later. For now, I let myself be swept away by the moment, the uncertainties of tomorrow fading into the background.

“So, when do I get to meet her?”

My heart flutters, betraying my calm exterior. The idea of him meeting Elsa, facing her scrutiny, her silver-blonde hair likely to bristle like an indignant cat’s fur, is both terrifying and exhilarating. “She won’t be happy when she finds out I ditched Walsh for you. She’ll probably interrogate you to find out what your intentions are. Henry will too, just so you know.”

Killian’s chuckle rumbles through the alcove, warm and rich. “Can’t wait.”

I arch a brow. “You’re really up for that? Elsa can be pretty fierce, and Henry—well, he’s very protective.”

“I can handle it.” He flashes a smile, one that says he’s faced tougher critics than my protective entourage. “Besides, I have nothing to hide. Just ask Google.” The twinkle in his eye tells me he relishes the challenge—a man used to the spotlight, unfazed by scrutiny. Yet beneath the bravado, there’s a sincerity that makes me believe he’s not just playing the part. Killian Jones might be an open book to the world, but he’s still full of stories yet to be told. And I find myself wanting to read every page.

I smirk, my finger tracing the rim of my wine glass. “I could…but what I want to know are the secrets I can’t find on Google.”

A smile, disarming and far too charming, stretches across his lips as he leans back in his seat and rubs his chin, thinking for a moment. “Alright, here’s one—my moniker as a kid was Hook.”

Laughter bubbles up from my chest as I picture a young Killian, a boy full of spirit and spunk, bearing that nickname. “Hook, huh? Like Captain Hook? How did you get that nickname?”

His eyes, those deep pools of blue, hold mine, and in them, there’s a flicker of the boy he once was. “From a fishing trip with my brother Liam. We were out on the lake, and I was determined to show off my fishing skills. When I finally caught a big one, I thought I’d impress him by handling it myself. But as I was trying to remove the hook, the fish gave a sudden flip of its tail, and the hook ended up in the back of my hand. Liam couldn’t stop laughing, and from that day on, I was ‘Hook’.”

“Oh my God, that sounds painful.”

“It wasn’t my finest moment, but it certainly left a mark.” He holds up his free hand, showing the small scar on the back of it. “And a nickname.”

I lean in, my fingers gently tracing the rugged scar. My brows knit together involuntarily as I look up at him with a teasing smile. “That’s your big, juicy secret?”

“Well, maybe not juicy by tabloid standards, but it’s a part of me you wouldn’t find in any magazine. Liam and I made a deal long ago to not share embarrassing stories with the world. Some things we like to have for ourselves.”

I shake my head and laugh. “You know, I was expecting something more...I don’t know, scandalous?”

A playful twinkle lights his eyes as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “If you want scandalous, I could tell you about the time my ex-girlfriend, Milah, a French actress, dumped me for Robert Gold.”

My eyes widen, my wineglass poised in the air before it can make it to my lips. “Wait, Robert Gold? As in the American singer and pianist?”

He nods regrettably, a shadow of some past hurt crossing his face. “Milah and I met before I became famous. She was friends with Mary Margaret, who had just started dating David at the time, and came to one of our gigs. We bonded over our love for music—she studied piano and classical music before going into acting.”

I nod, finally taking a sip of my wine.

“We kept our relationship a secret for a while.”

“But then she left you for Robert?”

“Aye.” His eyes meet mine, a storm brewing in their depths—a tempest that speaks of betrayal and heartache weathered and survived, like that of my own. “Apparently, I wasn’t mature or famous enough for her.” He lets out a soft chuckle, but there’s an edge to it that speaks volumes. “It stung, but then Midnight Moon started gaining popularity, we signed with a big record label and ended up outselling Robert in albums.” A sly grin returns, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not that I was keeping track or anything.”

“Of course.” I smirk, understanding all too well the bittersweet triumph of proving oneself against the doubts of an ex.

Killian shrugs. “And it wasn’t until I became famous that Milah started reaching out to me again. But I haven’t responded to any of her calls or texts. Nor do I plan to.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Ah, becoming famous—the perfect revenge on your exes.”

He chuckles. “It really is.”

Then I think about something for a moment, recalling the last time I saw a picture of Robert Gold on social media. “But isn’t Gold like sixty?” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I wince, hoping I haven’t prodded a tender wound too harshly. “Not that I’m one to judge someone’s age,�� I add quickly.

“Aye, he is. But Milah…she’s a bit older than me. Thirty, to be exact. At the time we were dating, I was eighteen and she was twenty-four.”

I laugh, raising an eyebrow teasingly. “So, you have a type?”

“A type?” He shakes his head. “Not really. I actually liked Milah.” His expression softens as he leans in even closer, the distance between us diminishing further, and I’m caught in the gravitational pull. “But now I find myself drawn to blondes with eyes the color of emeralds.” He meets my gaze with a twinkle in his eye. “Okay, that’s a lie, there’s only one blonde—one woman—I’m interested in.”

My heart doesn’t just skip a beat—it falters, flutters, then thunders back to life with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. A wave of warmth cascades through me, pooling in my stomach and spreading to the tips of my fingers intertwined with his. His thumb traces small circles on the back of my hand.

“I hope I didn’t offend you that day at Coachella by mistaking you for Henry’s older sister.” He chuckles at himself. “I genuinely thought you were.”

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “No, not at all. I took it as a compliment.”

“Good. But don’t worry, I won’t ask how old you are because it’s impolite and also because it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Well, I just turned forty last month,” I admit, my cheeks heating. “Ready to run yet?” I ask, afraid he might think of me as a middle-aged woman clinging to the fringes of her youth.

He doesn’t even flinch. “Absolutely not.” He graces me with a reassuring smile, his eyes full of warmth. “I told you, it doesn’t matter to me.”

My eyes lock with his, and I find myself ensnared in his cerulean depths that seem to hold galaxies of unspoken words. The air between us crackles, each second stretched taut with anticipation. I can’t help but wonder where the night will take us, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I just want to enjoy our time together, no matter how it ends.

Our server returns with sautéed lump crab cakes and a watermelon salad with feta and mint. After he leaves, we eat our food, falling back into easy conversation.

“My favorite place as a kid was this old lighthouse near our home,” Killian replies when I ask him about his childhood. “There was something about it—standing tall and resilient against the chaos of the sea. It always made me feel safe when I was inside it, like it could weather any storm. And now, I feel like that lighthouse sometimes. Trying to survive all the crowds and chaos. Trying to survive the storm.”

His words hit me like a tidal wave, crashing against my heart and leaving me speechless. His metaphor is profound, striking a chord deep within me. “That’s so beautiful,” I breathe, my voice almost a whisper. “I mean, it’s beautifully put. And I can definitely see how you would feel like a lighthouse braving the storm in your line of work. I could never do what you do. And you make it look so easy.”

He blushes, his lips quirking up into a smile. “Thank you, love.” He squeezes my hand, the tips of his ears just as red as his cheeks. “The lighthouse actually inspired a song I’m writing.”

My curiosity is piqued. “I’d love to hear it.”

“It’s still a work in progress. And honestly, I don’t know if I’ll share it with the band. It’s something I wrote for myself.”

I nod. “I get that. Some things are just too personal to share. But if you ever feel like letting someone else hear it, I’d be honored.”

His eyes soften. “That means a lot. Maybe one day, I’ll play it for you.”

“Whenever you’re ready.” I find myself even more drawn to him, wanting to pick the creative part of his brain, the artistic side of him. “So, is that where you did most of your writing? When you were at the lighthouse?”

He chuckles, scratching behind his ear. “Actually, no. I do my best writing when I have the telly on in the background and an electric guitar in my hands. If someone saw me, they would think I was watching the telly while playing the guitar, but what I’m actually doing is coming up with song lyrics. Something about the noise helps me focus.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “That’s so funny. That’s exactly how Henry does his homework. He always has the TV on, his laptop in front of him and his music blaring—your music blaring. But me? I can’t think if there’s a fan humming in the background. I need complete silence to concentrate.”

He nods, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “What about you, Emma? What was your childhood like?”

I take a deep breath, smiling softly as memories flood back. “Well, I grew up in a small town. My childhood was pretty normal, I guess. My parents were always supportive, but they were also pretty strict.” Their expectations were like the masterpieces they so loved—to be protected and preserved. “My father’s an art history professor at Harvard. My mother was a curator. She’s retired now.”

“Art is the family business, then?” he asks, a half-smile playing on his lips.

“Sort of, yes.” My answer comes out softer than intended, a hint of nostalgia threading through the words. “Their worlds revolved around art, and I got swept up in it long before I knew how to walk.”

“Did you attend Harvard?”

“I went to Brown. Then Columbia for my master’s.”

“Brown and Columbia,” he muses, lips curling into a smile. “That’s quite impressive, Swan.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks. “Thank you,” I murmur, the words almost lost to the soft music.

“Did that piss off the professor?” His eyebrow arches in playful curiosity, his voice low and smooth. “Not going to Harvard?”

“A little.” A smile finds its way to my lips at the memory of my father’s stunned silence when I told him about Brown. It had been my first step out of his shadow, my own declaration of independence.

Killian’s eyes lock with mine, gleaming with mirth and something more—understanding, perhaps. He gets it, the need to forge one’s path, even if it means disappointing those we love. He knows what it’s like to choose the unexpected road, to chase a dream no one else can see but you. “Probably not as much as blowing off Cambridge to join a rock band.”

I laugh. “No, probably not.”

Once our glasses are empty, he refills them from the bottle chilling in ice. “Did you have a favorite place as a kid? Somewhere you could hide from your parents?”

I nod. “I loved spending time outdoors, exploring the woods and fields near our house. And there was this old oak tree I used to climb up and sit on one of the sturdy branches, sketching the landscape. I was always drawing—anything and everything. ”

His eyes light up. “You draw?”

I nod, my cheeks warming. “I do.”

“You’ve been holding out on me, Swan. Can I see some of your work?”

“Maybe someday. I haven’t drawn much lately, though. Running the gallery keeps me pretty busy.”

He eyes me thoughtfully. “You should make time for it. It’s important to keep doing what you love.”

His words hit me with an unexpected force, and I smile. “I’ll have more time this summer. Henry’s going to camp next month at Jameson Ranch.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he goes there every year. He loves everything there, the horseback riding, the rock climbing, the archery. I waited for the year when he’d say he’s too old, but it never happened. Now, this is his last year.”

“Sounds like an amazing camp.”

I nod. “It really is. I’m glad he gets to enjoy it one last time before he graduates next year.”

“Does he have any plans after graduation?”

I chuckle, lightly teasing, “Hopefully, they don’t include ditching college to start a rock band.” I raise an eyebrow playfully at Killian, who feigns offense, his hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“I’m kidding. Honestly, I’d be proud of him no matter what he does after high school.”

He smiles, taking a sip of his wine.

“But to answer your question, he’s been talking about going to LA Film School.”

Killian raises his brows, his eyes lighting up like the stars that have begun to pepper the evening sky. “Film school? Sounds exciting.”

“Yeah. He’s always had a knack for storytelling.”

“I bet he’ll do amazing. And how do you feel about him moving away for school?”

“I’ll hate it,” I admit with a laugh. “But I want him to pursue his dreams. Besides, he won’t be too far.”

“He can always come back during breaks and summers,” Killian reassures me with a nod.

“Yeah, it’ll be an adjustment, but I’m sure he’ll be ready to get out on his own and not have to live with his mom anymore.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure he’ll miss you like crazy when he’s gone.”

The waiter arrives with our entrées—herb-crusted salmon for Killian and a ribeye steak for me.

As we take our first bites, the flavors burst on my tongue—rich and perfectly seasoned, a hum of contentment escaping my lips.

Killian watches me with an amused glint in his blue eyes. “Good, isn’t it?”

“Delicious.”

We eat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, stealing glances between bites.

“So, Henry and film school,” Killian says, returning to our earlier conversation. “Do you think he knows what kind of films he wants to make?”

I take a sip of my wine, loving the fact he’s asking about Henry and not just me. And even though I easily got bored listening to Walsh go on about his furniture shop, I’d be happy if Killian only spoke about himself. I could listen to him talk all day. “He’s still figuring that out, but he loves sci-fi and fantasy.”

Killian nods and smiles. “Ah, my favorite genres.” He takes another bite of his fish. “Oh, and by the way, I Googled that Ghost scene you were telling me about.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“I just have one question.” He holds up a finger, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Do potters always stroke the mold like that when throwing?”

I almost choke on my wine and laugh. “Uh, no. I think they were going for a steamy scene without going all pornographic.”

He chuckles, his cheeks red. “I figured as much.”

Finally, we’re served crème brûlée for dessert. The top is perfectly caramelized, with a thin, crisp layer of sugar that cracks under the spoon to reveal the creamy custard underneath.

I take my first bite and let out a small moan. The combination of the crunchy caramel top and the smooth vanilla custard is heavenly. I feed him a bite, and the way his eyes roll back, the rough groan he makes, sends heat to my core. I have to squeeze my thighs together to curb the temptation to have him for my dessert. At least for now, while we’re in public.

When the bill is paid, there’s a knot of dread in my stomach at the thought our evening might be drawing to a close soon.

Killian moves closer to me, his voice low and husky. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” My stomach flutters with nerves at the prospect of what his question might be.

“Please, feel free to say no if you don’t want to. There’s no pressure here.” Hesitation flickers in his mesmerizing blue eyes, so I place my hand on his leg, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“I promise I’ll say no if I’m not up for it.”

“Would you want to come back to my hotel room? It’s just a little more private there…”

I pause, the final bite of the crème brûlée halfway to my lips as I turn my head to look at him, sincerity in his gaze. The air between us thickens, rich with unspoken possibilities, and something stirs inside me, a longing I’ve kept at bay, one that’s been restrained by caution and past pain. But Killian has a way of crumbling the walls I’ve built around myself.

I finish the bite of dessert, the spoon clinking against the porcelain as I set it down. I lean back, folding my arms. “Trying to get me alone, Jones?”

A rosy pink blush paints his cheeks. “Maybe I am.”

I can’t help but laugh as he gives me the same answer I gave him the other day when he asked me if I was flirting with him.

“And what are your intentions once you get me alone?”

He chuckles and wets his lips with his tongue, leaning closer. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, his voice dark, almost a whisper. “Well, I watched you eat that dessert…the way you licked your lips and made those sexy noises…the way you kissed me the other day…”—His gaze moves to my mouth, his eyes ablaze with desire, his thumb caressing my shoulder—“and I really want that wicked mouth of yours on mine again. But honestly, I’d be happy to simply continue chatting.” The easy grin fades, replaced by something far more telling—a seriousness that belies his usual charm. “So, my intentions are whatever you wish them to be, love.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Really?” I challenge, my teeth catching on my bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the smirk that threatens to break free. “Whatever I wish?” My efforts are futile, it curls the edges of my lips regardless. “Alright then, how about you perform a song and dance number on this table?”

He arches a brow. “That’s your wish?”

“That’s my wish.”

He gives a nonchalant shrug, his cerulean eyes dancing with amusement. He launches from his seat, and before I know it, he’s halfway on the table. I reach out and grab his arm to stop him, giggles bubbling up from my throat at the thought of him actually going through with it. “I was kidding.” As he settles back into his seat, I narrow my eyes at him. “I can’t believe you were actually going to do it.”

His head tilts back slightly, and those piercing blue eyes crinkle at the corners. “Swan, you do realize you’re asking a rock star who’s used to outrageous requests and performing in public, right? You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to shock me.”

“Is that so?” I tease with a devilish smirk, placing my hand on his chest, feeling it beat under my palm.

He chuckles. “That is the most mischievous grin I’ve ever seen.”

My cheeks heat.

“What am I going to do with you, Swan?”

“Apparently, whatever I want you to do.” It’s been so long since I’ve allowed myself to be swept up like this—since I’ve let someone see the side of me that isn’t all business and pragmatism. Despite how flushed I am from all this flirtatious banter, I manage to make it out of the booth. I look over my shoulder. “You coming, Jones?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grabs his jacket and follows behind me.

When he catches up to me, I have to refrain from touching him until we get into his car. I can tell he’s just as tortured by the way he’s running a hand through his hair and looking over at me, a hunger sparking in those deep blue eyes.

Once we’re outside, the cool breeze sweeps around us, and I try to rub the goosebumps from my arms.

"Here, love.” Without missing a beat, Killian shrugs off his jacket and holds it open behind me, allowing me to slip my arms into the sleeves. He adjusts it on my shoulders and rubs my covered arms. The leather is warm from his body heat and smells faintly of his cologne, a comforting mix of spices and something uniquely him. "Can't have you freezing out here."

I pull the jacket closer around me, grateful for the warmth and the gesture. "Thanks, Killian." I smile at him. The jacket is a little big on me, the sleeves hanging past my fingertips, but it's perfect. "Won't you be cold, though?"

He shakes his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Don't worry about me, Swan.” He wraps his arm around me and pulls me a little closer. “If I get cold, you’ll keep me warm, right?”

I roll my eyes and laugh, heat rushing to my cheeks. "Ever the charmer," I reply, leaning into him as we wait for the valet to retrieve Killian’s car.

As soon as we’re in, his hand quickly finds its way under the skirt of my dress and around my thigh, and my hand finds its way onto his shoulder. But there’s too much distance between us.

He brings me back to my car at Blair’s, and I follow him on the twenty-minute drive to Sunset Tower, which stands tall against the cityscape. We agreed it’s better to arrive separately in case paparazzi are lurking around. I wait a few moments in my Bug after he disappears inside, my heart pounding. I check my hair in the mirror and make sure there's no food in my teeth about four times while I gather the courage. I want this, I know I want this, I’m just hoping he won’t take one look at me without my clothes on and run away. Or worse, give me a pity fuck.

I shake away the doubts clouding my mind. Killian is not like that, and I know this. Unlatching the car door, I step out and head inside the hotel. I may not know him very well, but each time we talk, it’s so easy, so comfortable. We don’t have to force the conversation, it just flows naturally. We’re not two people with sixteen years between us, we’re just two people drawn to each other. And the more I get to know him, the more I see the kindness in his heart. The man behind the rockstar persona.

Once inside, I step into the elevator and press the button for his floor. As I ascend to the top, my heart flutters with excitement and nerves. I check my reflection on the reverse camera setting on my phone and take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. When the doors part, I step out and make my way down the corridor.

Tiny, Killian’s loyal bodyguard, stands watch at the end of the hallway, his hawk-like eyes scanning me briefly before he nods in recognition. Whether he knows what might transpire beyond the door to Killian’s hotel suite, he gives no indication.

Returning his nod, I continue down the hall—my heart pounding like a drum against my chest with every step closer to the suite number Killian had shared earlier. Taking a fortifying breath, I rap lightly on the polished wooden door.

Before I have time to talk myself out of this, it swings open and he’s standing before me, flashing one of his heart-melting grins.

“Hi, Swan.” He steps aside to let me in.

“Hi.” I manage a smile of my own, a thrill shooting up my spine as I enter his room, my stilettos clicking on the shiny hardwood floor.

He closes the door behind me, shutting out the rest of the world.

Finally, we’re alone again.

I’ve been waiting for this moment since he left my house. I couldn’t actually believe our kiss was a one-time thing as I was saying it out loud. I knew I wouldn’t be able to ignore my feelings for this man.

“Would you like something to drink, love?”

I shake my head and slip off his jacket, throwing it over a chair, his eyes roaming over me from head to toe.

All I want is him.

My heart races as we gravitate toward each other, closing the distance between us.

On the way here, I had questioned whether we would just chat or make out once we got here, or whether I’d even make it here at all, but now that he’s standing here in front of me, looking like he wants to devour me, I’m powerless to resist him—and truthfully, I don’t want to.

Our eyes are locked, the air crackling with a raw, electric charge that’s been building all night. I reach up, my hands finding the nape of his neck, pulling him down toward me. Our lips meet, a soft brush at first that quickly ignites into something more urgent, more demanding. The kiss deepens, and I taste the hint of the wine and crème brûlée we shared. I cup his cheeks in my hands, our mouths moving together with a familiarity that belies the short time we’ve known each other.

He wraps his arms around me as I snake mine around the back of his neck. My breath catches in my throat as his palms glide over the fabric of my dress, mapping the contours of my body as if committing it to memory. I’m already moaning softly into his mouth, lost in the sensations of him, the warmth of his body pressing against mine, the stubble on his jaw scratching softly at my skin, and the way his hands roam across my back, tracing the curve of my spine.

We break the kiss briefly, both of us sucking the same air into our lungs before reclaiming each other’s lips. I lean into him, deepening the kiss—his tongue hot and soft on mine, eager but not too much. It’s a dance we’re engaged in, and every move he makes only draws me in deeper.

He turns me around with a gentle insistence, and I gulp in air, my heart pounding against my ribcage, erratic and wild. His hands slip under the hem of my dress, his fingers brushing against my thighs, teasing, promising, until they find the silk barrier of my panties.

A gasp escapes me, unbidden, as he dips his hand beneath the fabric, his touch bold and unapologetic against my bare nub. I reach a hand behind him, cradling the back of his head as he kisses my earlobe, his breaths hot and heavy against my skin. Holding on to him is all I can do to not melt completely under the deft movements of his fingers, each stroke unraveling me even more. I feel like a teenager all over again.

“Swan…” His voice is low and seductive in my ear, sending a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the cool air of the hotel room. “Gods, you’re soaked.”

I bite my bottom lip and close my eyes as I arch into him, seeking more of the exquisite touch, my body betraying its eagerness for his skilled caresses. “Killian.” His name is a whispered plea, a prayer, on my lips as his fingers explore with an artist’s finesse.

It’s surreal, being here with him in his hotel room. Out there, in the real world, I’m Emma Swan—pragmatic, collected, an art dealer, a mother. But here, under Killian’s masterful touch, I’m coming undone, my usual poise giving way to raw desire. He’s young, magnetic, a rockstar used to captivating crowds, yet here, it’s just us, and he plays me like the strums of his guitar—each note building to a crescendo only he can command. The world falls away, leaving only the here and now, the heat of his touch, the pounding of my heart and the insatiable hunger that builds with every passing second.

He dips his head, his breath hot against the nape of my neck as he unclasps the strap of my dress with his free hand, letting the top fall away. He reaches under my bra cup, his hand shaping my breast, his thumb toying with my nipple as he kisses my neck. I tremble, caught in a web of sensations spun by his deft movements. My moans fill the room, unrestrained and foreign, like the sounds belong to another woman entirely—one unshackled by past fears or reservations. It’s been so long since I’ve moaned like this. In fact, I don’t think I ever moaned like this with Neal, yet Killian’s able to coax the sounds out with only his fingers.

Both of my hands are reaching behind us, fisting his hair for purchase as I completely give in to this man. He finds a rhythm, a dance of fingertips against the most sensitive parts of me, driving me wild, pushing me toward a precipice I’m all too willing to tumble over. The edge looms closer with each stroke, and I cling to him, lost in the storm he’s conjured inside me.

“Killian!” I scream toward the heavens as I ride his fingers, my walls pulsing around them. And I’m there, crumbling to pieces, coming all over his hand, and I’m gasping for air, my fingers tightening in his hair, clinging to him as he holds me sturdy in his arms.

Holy fuck.

That was…

My brain is too much like mushy oatmeal to put together the words to describe it.

Killian just holds me for a moment as I catch my breath, waiting for my heart to slow.

Once I’m able to move again, I manage to turn around and wrap my arms around the back of his neck, wanting to kiss the smug grin off his face. His arms encircle me, and he lifts me with an ease that sends another jolt of desire through my veins. The world tilts and spins around me, but I’m anchored by his gaze, his eyes holding mine. As he carries me across the room, our lips crash together again, a messy, perfect collision, his heartbeat thundering against mine, a mirror of my own escalating pulse.

My head hits the pillow as he sets me down gently, our bodies and lips still fused. I work at the buttons of his shirt, craving the warmth of his skin against mine. The fabric parts beneath my touch, revealing the taut muscles that ripple on his torso. His hands are on me now, skimming over my sides, each brush of his fingertips like a match struck against my skin, igniting a fire within me I had long forgotten could burn so fiercely. He reaches for my dress, and my breath catches in my throat as the red fabric and black bra falls away, leaving me vulnerable under his heated gaze. With trembling hands, I help him shed the rest of his clothes, each piece discarded like layers of ourselves peeling away.

I lie back on my elbows, allowing him to slide off my panties—the last piece of fabric separating us. There’s a pang of self-awareness as I think about how much my body has changed since I got pregnant with Henry. Stretch marks map across my lower belly like silver rivers, my breasts are fuller now, no longer pert like they once were.

But when I catch Killian’s eyes, darken with desire, and his cock standing at full attention, hard and throbbing, any lingering uncertainty evaporates. His hungry gaze roams over every inch of me—the stretch marks, the fullness of my breasts, every scar and imperfection—as if they’re elements in an exquisite artwork he can’t wait to explore further. He wants me. All of me—the woman who carried a child within her womb—every curve, every scar, every part of me life has shaped.

My nipples are hard peeks under his gaze, begging for the warmth of his touch. His mouth. His tongue.

Standing at the edge of the bed, he lifts my foot and unbuckles the straps of my shoes one by one, his ocean blues not even focused on his task but roving up my naked curves instead, my center spread and bare to him, glistening with a hunger I haven’t felt in years.

Once my shoes are gone, he climbs onto the bed and settles between my thighs with a devilish glint, hiking my legs over his shoulders. He leans in, leaving soft kisses over my thighs and nub leaving me shivering in anticipation, my breath catching. He traces my slick folds with his lips, his breaths warm over my flushed skin, my heart like a jackhammer. Our eyes are locked in a steely gaze, but once he parts my thighs further apart, his grip bruising my skin in the most delicious way, and he slides his tongue through my slit, all bets are off. My elbows collapse underneath me, and my eyes are rolling to the back of my head, his tongue exploring with slow deliberate strokes, eliciting gasps and moans that echo through the quiet room.

For some reason, I’d thought he might be overeager, given his age, and not used to giving pleasure as much as receiving it, and maybe that was just my previous experiences. But, boy, was I wrong. Because, there’s reverence in each stroke and nibble, his mouth worshiping me, coaxing me closer to the brink with each flick of his tongue over my aching clit, delving into my depths as if he could find every secret I’ve ever kept hidden there.

“Killian!” I can’t help but cry out, the words ripped from my throat as electrifying heat consumes me. A shuddering “Yesss!” escapes, my thighs clamping around his head like a vice, involuntary while my hands become entangled in the dark tresses of his hair.

Even as waves of ecstasy begin to ebb, he continues his ministrations, languid licks that draw out the lingering tremors of my orgasm. His tongue moves with an unhurried grace, a contrast to the rapid beating of my heart.

Heat lingers on my skin, a delicious aftershock that trembles through me.

His lips start a blazing hot path from the apex of my thighs to my stomach, his mouth a brand, searing his claim on me. Every kiss imprinted on my skin burns brighter than the last, leaving no part of me untouched or undiscovered. His lips trace delicate patterns across my abdomen, pausing to dip into my navel before continuing their ascent.

The curve of each rib becomes a stepping stone as he climbs closer to my breasts, where he lingers, lavishing each contour and peak with his tongue. His kisses are equally soft and demanding around the areolas before he draws my nipples into his hot mouth, pleasure jolting through me.

By the time he reaches my lips, I’m a panting, trembling mess underneath him, our bare skin meeting, the contact sparking a fire that threatens to consume us both.

“God, everything about you is perfect,” he breathes, his voice completely wrecked. His words are exactly what a forty-year-old woman wants to hear about her naked body, but I know it’s not empty flattery. It’s the truth etched in the lines of his face, in the fire in his eyes, the way he holds my gaze when he says it.

His erection presses against my thigh, hard and insistent, ready to claim me.

And God, do I want him to claim me. Every inch.

“Should I wear a condom?”

Right. A condom—something I hadn’t even thought about. God, it’s been too long, I feel like a virgin all over again.

“Do you have anything I should be aware of?” I counter, my voice surprisingly steady.

He shakes his head, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, and you? Have you been with anyone since Neal?”

“No, I haven’t. I’m on the pill.” I glide my hand between us, wrapping my fingers around his stiff shaft, stroking softly, his smooth, velvety length easily sliding through my fist. “And I want to feel you inside me.”

He groans as he kisses me sweetly on the lips, a grin spreading across his face. “I want to feel you, too.”

With that settled, I place him at my entrance, and the connection sends sparks flying through me. After thirteen years of Neal and three years of nothing, Killian feels incredible inside me. No, incredible is a colossal understatement. And he’s not even fully inside me yet.

Our breaths, heavy and ragged, mingle as he eases into me, claiming territory with slow, tender strokes that belie his strength. My legs are wrapped around his back, my hands resting on his shoulder blades as I arch into him, every nerve-ending alight with fire.

He responds in kind, his hips a perfect counterpoint to mine, as if we’re two parts of a whole finally clicking into place. “Swan,” he whispers against my lips, and I shiver at the sound of my name wrapped in his accent, heavy with lust. “Bloody hell…you feel so damn good.” He captures my lips before I can respond, his tongue moving against mine with the rhythm of his hips, and I can taste myself on his tongue, which I’ve never had the pleasure of doing before. Neal always used mouthwash afterward before kissing me.

I lose myself in the sensations—the heat of his body, the weight of him, the taste of his kiss, the sound of our unified gasps filling the room. His size, the smoothness of his back, the firmness of his ass as I take both perfect globes in my hands, pulling him in deeper. It’s a heady combination, intoxicating, dizzying, and I drink it all in greedily.

“Killian...” His name spills from my lips as he draws me closer to the edge. There’s no holding back, no fear or doubt, only the boundless expanse of sensation he alone can evoke. My body gives in to the overwhelming tide of pleasure that threatens to sweep me under, my fingernails clawing into his back.

Heat coils inside me, raw and all-consuming as Killian’s body drives into mine with a primal rhythm, his voice, rough like gravel, cutting through the haze of pleasure. “Let go, Emma.”

And I do. I let go, surrendering to the waves as they crash over me, and I happily drown in the bliss of it, my walls fluttering around his beautiful dick that has me coming undone.

He follows close behind, thrusting harder and faster, the crescendo building as he chases his impending release. His hips falter, movements growing erratic, his body shuddering. He dips his head, teeth grazing my skin, breath hot against my neck. His grip tightens around me, hands like steel bands, and I’m certain there will be marks—temporary souvenirs—imprinted on my skin I’ll probably admire in the mirror later.

“Emma…” My name is pure heaven as it tumbles from his lips, wrapped in a thick, broken accent as he pours his warmth inside me.

Pure heaven.

We reposition ourselves so he’s on his back and I’m beside him, boneless, draping an arm around his torso. My breath steadies, our bodies a tangle of limbs, the echo of his touch, his kiss, on every inch of my skin, his chest a relentless drumbeat against my ear. The sheets are twisted around our legs, our fingers are laced together as he presses a tender kiss against my forehead.

“Emma…you’re incredible.” His words vibrate against my skin, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my back.

I look up at him, my gaze meeting those deep blue eyes that seem to hold galaxies within them. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smiles, his thumb brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead. “Your beauty,” he whispers huskily, “it’s not just in the way you look, Swan. It’s everything about you. It’s the very essence of you.” His touch is reverent, as though each word he utters is etched into my skin.

A warmth blooms in my chest at his words, at the admiration that laces each syllable. It’s as if every wall I’ve ever built has not only been scaled but completely dismantled by the tenderness of his gaze. He sees me, truly sees me—not just the polished exterior, but the tangled, knotted threads of my soul.

A teasing smile pulls at my lips. “Do you say that to all the women you’re with?”

He chuckles, his body shaking with the deep, hearty sound. “I would only say it if I meant it…so no, I don’t.”

I trace the line of his jaw with my fingertips, taking in the jagged edge of his stubble, the warmth of his skin. His eyes lock with mine, a stormy blue that speaks volumes without a single word. My heart swells, full to bursting with an emotion I can neither name nor contain.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Or forever.”

I laugh. “I’ll stay tonight…but I’ll have to go back early tomorrow. Henry will be back home around noon.”

He nods, despite the disappointment flashing in his eyes. “Of course, love.”

Lying here naked, pressed against him, I allow myself to bask in the afterglow, the rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me into a state of serene bliss.

I don’t remember sex being so damn good before.

It’s never been that good.

Then it hits me. He’s the first, the only one who’s ever made me orgasm from sex alone. Sure, I’ve had orgasms but only from stimulation—a tongue, a finger or (mostly) a battery-operated friend. Never from penetration. I didn’t even think it was possible for me. And I’ve certainly never experienced multiple orgasms before tonight.

I always assumed I was the problem. That I was broken somehow.

But here I am, lying in Killian’s arms, fulfilled and sated in a way I never thought possible. It’s like he’s unlocked some secret part of me no one else could access before.

And maybe my history of being unsatisfied in bed is the reason I waited so long to be with someone else after Neal left.

Then again, if I had known it could be this good, I wouldn’t have waited.

But maybe it was Killian I was waiting for all along.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs ff au #rockstar!killian #alternate universe - modern setting #my fic

11 notes · View notes

madamecerberusfanfics · 2 months

Text

Can You Love Yet

Tom Riddle x Reader/OC

Ch. 6 New School Year Master list

As Tom stood in the living room of the Grimm manner staring at the painted family portrait of said family. It must have been done when Rowan was four or five from just how young she looked & from the inclusion of who he had come to find out to be the eldest child, Cypress. He had to be eleven or twelve in the portrait, taking more after their father with big round eyes & strawberry blonde hair, more akin to Killian's ghostly white than Holly's fiery red hair. Rowan had informed him that Cypress had succumbed to the blood curse that wreaked havoc on the Grove family, their mother's family.

Tom broke his gaze from the painting to look out one of the south facing windows, far outside he could see the cypress tree the young boy lay beneath. 'What a twisted curse' Tom thought just before the sound of footsteps caught his attention. "Alright everything is packed up, we should head off now, we don't want to be late." Rowan approached him, only now did Tom realize as he looked down in her pale grey eyes just how much he had grown & how short Rowan really was. "What is there something on my face?" The redhead inquired as she put a hand to her face. Tom simply patted her head as he walked away. "No you're just short." "I-I am not that short." Quickly defending as she ran to catch up to Tom. In no time they were outside with Rowan's parents by the carriage. "You're just really tall." Crossing her arm over her chest as she tried to stand as tall as possible. "Well yes but you are still short" Snickering at her as they both entered the carriage with Rowan's parents already inside, ready to depart. The ride was filled with talk of the up coming year, hopes & expectations for themselves being expressed. It was long till they had arrived, exchanging goodbyes while Killian tried his best to not get to emotional as he did the year before. They were finally on the train looking for an empty compartment for themselves. " Your father is such an emotional man its hard to believe your related" Commenting as he opened the door to an empty compartment. "Why Tom am I not emotional enough, oh what ever will I do if I can't match the emotional intensity of my very own father, gasp." Putting on another one of her exaggerated dramatic displays as she entered the small compartment, complete with her hand on her forehead & even saying the word gasp at the end there. Tom just rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him, " You know what I mean" his annoyance evident on his face as he sat down across from her. " I do but I just love the face you make when I act just ridiculously dramatic." She couldn't help but chuckle. Of course Tom couldn't help be roll his eyes once more. Rowan continued with a more content tone as she pulled out the box of jelly beans they had gotten just the other week. "Truth be told it was just the way we were raised. Having known the concept of death before we even knew to speak, we were taught to savor the little things things in life, moments that we might take for granted later in life." Gazing at a light green jelly bean in between her two fingers transfixed in her thoughts. "All in hopes of fighting off the depressing weight of knowing when are loved ones lives will end." Finishing her thoughts as she placed the jelly bean in her mouth, humming with enjoyment as the flavor of grass brought forth treasured memories.

Her words lingered in his mind, they had both known of death from such a young age. He still remembers how the caretakers & even some of the children at the orphanage would gossip about how his mother ended up there only to giving birth to him then die all within span the of a day. Whole heartedly believing that his mother had chosen death over him. Leaving him in that horrid place with no one to help this young child to prosses such heavy knowledge. Resulting in this view, this fear of death, blaming his mother for being weak & for leaving him in such a place. Having experienced death far before he was even really.

Rowan even though knew of death for as long as Tom, she had the the support & family he did not. Even before the death of her brother she had known it was coming for her whole life & had her family to support her through it. Having been raised to just accept whoever death comes for & not to fight for life. It was almost pitiful.

Giving her a hum of acknowledgment before turning toward to window gazing out at the passing scenery. "Oh please don't go all melancholic on me now, here" rummaging through the small box in her hand she quickly pulled out a brown jelly bean, "I this one's your favorite, reminiscent of a Hogwarts feast." Holding out her hand with that same old smile, waiting for him to take it. With a sigh he reluctantly took it, popping in his mouth. It did remind him of the feast at Hogwarts, it was the only one out of the bizarre box of beans that he enjoyed. He was surprised that she had actually remembered such an insignificant thing. Brushing off the gesture Tom changed the subject. "So any idea idea of what your going to this year in regards to your little plan?"

"As a matter of fact yes," as often as she smiled around him & others it was only specific things that made her smile reach her eyes. Teasing him & magical research & experimentation, specifically when it came to that cure for her mother. No matter how much the teasing annoyed him or how frivolous that so called cure for her mother was he couldn't help but be drawn in by that smile.

"As much as I enjoy the research & the theoretical of potion making it won't do any good if we don't start putting it to use." She continued, lost in her own excitement to notice Tom's transfixed gaze.

"Good to know all that studying won't be for not." Trying his best to hide this growing connection of sorts that annoyed him to even think about.

"Since we're on topic of our little projects, have you found anything about your parents?" Setting her box of jelly beans aside as she leaned in closer. "Sadly no," crossing his slender arms in frustration at the fact, "I couldn't find anything about any other Riddle that attended Hogwarts or in any other magical documents."

Giving a light hum as she thought about his words, knowing he'd get upset even if inferred the thought that his father was a muggle, she decided to suggest something else. " How about trying to take a break for now & come back to it later with fresh eyes." Giving him a light shrug of her shoulders as she leaded back & resumed eating her jelly beans.

Sighing as he realized the train was just seconds away from stopping. "You may be right Grimm." With that the loud horn of the train went off as it came to a screeching stop.

It wasn't too long before they were back in the great hall taking their seats, waiting for everyone else to settle in & the yearly ceremony to begin. With Emlyn Avery & Reinhard Lestrange joining them at the Slytherin table. While Avery took his seat right across from them, Lestrange decided to sit right next to Rowan. Completely oblivious to Tom's disapproving gaze.

With the sorting ceremony commencing it was quite obvious to both Rowan & Tom that Reinhard kept glancing at Rowan, wondering if she would look his way. As far as Rowan was concerned the dark haired Lestrange was smarter then most but nothing to note worthy of beyond that. Tom however saw him as an almost perfect follower, almost, he was quite oblivious. Having to be told some things which Tom saw as obvious as day, no doubt irritating him in the process.

& This was no doubt irritating Tom, just the way Lestrange was looking at her brought forth a feeling he didn't quite know where to place. Finally with the ceremony over everyone was now able to enjoy the feast laid out before them. Lestrange looking towards Rowan once more only to be met with a death stare from Tom, strong enough for the message to be understand clearly by Lestrange. All the while the redhead between them added food to her plate in amused silence, completely aware of the two fools besides her.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x reader #x oc #x reader #fluff and angst #harry potter #slow burn #harry potter fanfiction

8 notes · View notes

exhaustedpirate · 1 year

Text

parent for hire

guess who's back? me! and since I'm back, I have a chapter for you! hope you guys missed me! as the title suggests, this portion of the adventure will be divided into three parts. I promise you won't regret it! @kmomof4 was once more my guardian angel and made sure I had everything perfect just for you all!

Chapter Five - Misthaven (Part One)

word count: 12,475 words

rating: Teen and Up

tag list: @cocohook38 ; @bluewildcatfanatic ; @piraterefrigerator ; @sotangledupinit ; @booksteaandtoomuchtv ; @teamhook

The port wasn’t far from where they parted ways with the Arendellian royalty. Along the way, he realized it’d be better to let Emma know that they’d sail past Neverland on their way to Misthaven, just to prepare her. She got quiet after that, and he left her to her thoughts. It was only when, during the last stretch before arriving at the port, Henry held her hand as he retold the story of their defeat of the snow monster that he noticed her relaxing.

They reached the port not long after lunch. At that hour, it was bustling with activity and there were ships aplenty. It seemed that even Hans’ seizing of Arendelle hadn’t destroyed the town’s prosperous economy.

Killian urged Henry to stay close to them, since it was the first time they had all been around so many people in an unknown environment. Emma shared his concern.

“Why don’t we join them?” Henry asked, pointing down the docks. The two adults followed his finger to find a grand ship with sails mended with mismatching fabric. The crew gathered on deck was made up of about a dozen people.

Killian and Emma turned to Henry with matching looks of bewilderment and shock, but he took their perplexity in stride and shrugged. “There’s a small crew and they don’t have any flags.”

“They are probably pirates, kid.” Emma’s eyebrow was raised in doubt.

“Which means they can be bought, right, Killian?” The boy’s grin was wide and proud.

“What have you been teaching him?” Emma asked rhetorically, smacking his arm with the back of her hand even as an amused smile toyed at the corner of her lips.

“Well, the lad is right.” Killian smiled brightly at Emma while laying a proud hand on Henry’s shoulder.

The boy giggled as Emma rolled her eyes.

“Let’s go!” Henry urged, holding Killian’s wrist to pull him towards the ship.

Killian shrugged, still smiling at Emma before turning back to the boy. She joined them with an eye roll, firmly fixing her mask back in place, walking next to him. Close to the gangplank, Henry stopped. Despite his eagerness, it was still a large ship full of strange people. Emma laid a hand on his shoulder to pull the boy towards her side while Killian stepped forward, trying to identify the captain.

A voice called from behind them, startling the three of them. “Looking for something, friends?”

They turned around to face a man with shoulder length dark hair and a friendly face much younger than would be expected, his posture the only indication that he might be the captain of the ship. If he was, then apparently all ship captains had very quiet footsteps.

“It all depends on where you’re headed.” Killian took a couple of steps forward so that he could once more stand in front of Henry. “Are you the captain?”

“Aye,” he answered, his arms crossed and an easy smile even if Killian could tell he was inspecting them. “We’ll be docking at the Maritime Kingdom.”

Their map was ingrained in Killian’s mind and he knew that, with Misthaven’s port closed for decades, their only option would be to dock somewhere close by and make the remaining journey on foot. The Maritime Kingdom’s port was the closest to their destination.

“How much for us to join you on your travels?”

He watched as the captain looked at them curiously, his eyes specially focused on Henry. The air around them sparked with concern and caution from Emma and Killian moved slightly closer to his companions.

“Do any of you have experience on a ship?”

The question startled him. “Hmm, aye, I do.”

“Then I’m sure you can earn your passage, right?” He grinned before turning to Emma and Henry. “Can you two help as well?”

Emma shared his startled expression but she recovered more quickly as she nodded. Henry was excited at the possibility of helping on a pirate ship. “Yeah!”

The captain grinned even wider. “It would be bad form for me to leave a family stranded in this cold land,” he said before grabbing a satchel from the ground.

Killian turned to Henry and Emma, sharing their surprise at their sudden luck. Before they could say anything, the captain walked past them towards the gangplank. “Come aboard, my friends. Our journey awaits.”

Henry was the first to move to follow the captain, urging Killian and Emma to follow. Killian chuckled. Henry seemed much more interested in being in the company of a pirate captain rather than them, he observed.

“What’s your name, sir?”

In the middle of the gangplank, the captain turned to them with a smile. “Turner, Will Turner. Welcome aboard the Black Pearl!”

As they followed Captain Turner aboard, Killian began to wonder if the winds of luck were actually on their side for once. Killian focused on his surroundings - the motion of the ship, the different voices calling out orders around him, Emma and Henry’s presence as they tried to help as best they could. Anything that distracted him from remembering the harsh words, the sharp lashings, and the pain that accompanied most of his time spent on a ship.

A sharp wind ruffled the hair at the back of his neck, and Killian gazed up at the cloudy sky. He had to do a double take as he thought he saw the shape of a familiar ship high in the clouds. He shook his head, it was impossible.

---

Killian thought that suddenly becoming a part of a pirate crew would be difficult and they would be on the receiving end of animosity from the crew. However, it seemed that their time with Captain Turner and the crew of the Black Pearl was going to be full of surprises.

They were greeted with generally pleasant, if tired, expressions when they were presented to the crew. Killian and Emma chose to be called Jones and Swan, respectively, but Henry had blurted out his own name in his excitement. Captain Turner seemed surprised at the boy’s outburst but smiled fondly at him.

Thankfully, their caution and concern was misplaced. No one in the crew seemed to care about who they were besides an extra pair of hands to help.

Despite the crew’s main focus being on the work they were doing, they seemed to be more than happy to entertain Henry’s undying curiosity. Whenever Killian called on the boy to stop distracting the other pirates, he received a reassuring hand wave back from whichever crew member Henry had deemed the current target of his attention.

After a while, Killian stopped worrying so much.

For the past few hours, Henry had been following a duo of pirates as they went about their duties. He was told their names were Pintel and Ragetti and that they were harmless if perhaps a tad uncouth. Once in a while, he would hear Henry’s giggles from a different part of the ship. Surprisingly, or perhaps not so much, he would see smiles on the crew’s faces at the sound. From Captain Turner, especially.

With night approaching, Henry’s wandering calmed, the adrenaline of the day finally fading. “Henry is asleep against the cannon,” Emma informed him with fondness clear in her eyes.

His gaze quickly found the sleeping child. Henry’s mouth hung open and he had his back against the cannon’s body with his head - uncomfortably, he was sure - against the rough metal. Killian’s responding smile was just as fond. “I’m not surprised, he hasn’t stopped since we came aboard.”

They shared a laugh.

“We should have a couple of free bunks in the crew’s quarters,” Captain Turner offered, interrupting their moment. It was strange to have their moments together around a whole crew of pirates, innocent as they may be. “You’re free to use them.”

“Thank you.” Emma nodded before turning back to Killian. “I’ll take him downstairs.”

“Feel free to get your rest as well, Swan. I will be waking up my first mate and the rest of my crew shortly so they will take charge while we sleep,” Captain Turner informed them.

“I’ll help the captain get ready, then join you.” Killian smiled with a nod.

He assumed Captain Turner thought them a married couple traveling with their child and while he wouldn’t be opposed to play into his belief, he didn’t want to make Emma uncomfortable. He thought Emma had the same suspicion, if the way she touched his arm before going to Henry was any clue.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to fake the way his heart thundered in his chest, or the way he couldn’t take his eyes off her, or the smile on his face when she picked the child up and he mumbled something completely unintelligible. He didn’t have to fake the subtle wave towards them when she found his eyes once more before descending below deck. If any of his gestures and expressions were deemed too realistic, he would blame it on the watchful gaze of the ship’s captain next to him.

It didn’t take long before the night’s crew arrived above deck. There were introductions exchanged between them and he found Gibbs to be a respectful man, worthy of the first mate position. Killian found himself nervous to join Emma and Henry below deck - would they be set up to sleep in the same bed? If the bunk beds were anything like the ones he was used to, they would have to sleep really close. Would she be angry?

“Thank you for your help, Jones.” Captain Turner’s heavy hand on his shoulder took him away from his anxious thoughts. All around them, the night crew was already in their positions. “I think it’s time to get some rest, don’t you?”

“Aye, Captain.” Killian cleared his throat, hoping to disguise the nerves in his voice. They began walking towards the hatch that led below deck.

“The honorific isn’t necessary, you know.” He grinned. “You’re not officially part of my crew. You can call me Will. If you’d like.”

Killian couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d enjoyed himself today, and if he was honest, he wouldn’t mind being a part of Will’s crew. As it was, he wasn’t in the position to join them. Not while he had a child below deck who needed him.

“I appreciate that, mate,” he replied. “But since I am working on the ship, and you are the captain, I’ll stick with that.”

“Very well, mate.” With a final pat on the shoulder, Captain Turner left him to enter his cabin.

All his worry had been for naught, in the end. Once he finally located the crew’s quarters, thanks to some loud snoring, Killian found Swan in the bottom left side bunk. Like the captain said, there was another empty bunk on the right side. He approached them as quietly as possible and found her still awake. She’d removed her mask and Henry’s hands clutched her tightly, even in sleep.

Her eyes found his once he was close enough. “He asked me to sleep next to him.” Her whisper sounded apologetic and all he could do was smile. Her lips thinned as she waited for his reply.

For all his worry over their sleeping arrangements, having her grow closer to Henry was no part of his concerns. But he also never counted on the creeping disappointment he felt over not sleeping next to her.

He crouched next to them. With Emma laying on her back and Henry’s head resting on her chest, all she had to do was turn her head towards him.

“That’s quite alright,” Killian whispered, reaching over to run his fingers through Henry’s hair, pushing away a few strands that had fallen over his face. He thought he heard Emma’s breathing change. “I’ll allow it for tonight,” he joked, a small smile upturning his lips as he turned to face her.

Her smile was amused and he felt her sharp release of breath on his chin. When he approached them on the bunk, he hadn’t realized how close that would make them. Their faces were only a few inches apart. He could see distinctly how the green in her eyes reflected the moonlight, how her nose was splattered with freckles. He wondered if she could tell he hadn’t taken a breath since he turned to face her. He wondered if she minded their proximity.

A particularly loud snore broke their silent stare and Killian cleared his throat as he finally stood. If Killian had paid closer attention or if it had been brighter in the cabin, he would have noticed Emma’s blushed cheeks or her equally irregular breathing.

“We should get some sleep,” Killian said, watching her nod through the corner of his eyes. “I’ll be in the next bunk, should you need me.” He gestured with his head, before striding towards the bunk after looking at Henry for a last time.

“Goodnight, Killian.”

He stopped midway through removing his coat to turn towards Emma, who was now looking up towards the top bunk. He could see the way her throat worked as she swallowed and he had to remind himself that she had spoken. Killian finished removing his coat, willing his heart to calm.

“Goodnight, Emma.”

It was a while before he fell asleep, too aware of her presence much too far away from him.

---

Killian awoke early the next day. He wasn’t surprised. Being on a ship, being in the confining crew’s quarters, reminded him too much of being on Silver’s crew. Once the sun shone on his face from the small window, he sat up so fast that he almost hit his head on the top bunk.

Memories of being dragged from his bed and lashed on the main deck for having woken up late made the scars on his back throb in remembrance. He sat there in panicked stillness as he waited for loud footsteps to invade the cabin, and the perverted grin of his former captain as he cracked the whip over and over again.

“Killian?”

It was miraculous how the soft voice of the boy broke through his frenzied thoughts, the way Nemo’s voice never could. He remembered his first year aboard the Caspartine clearly - he remembered the fear whenever he did something wrong, the panic whenever something wasn’t perfect. He also remembered the calm timbre of Nemo’s voice as he tried to get him out of that state. He remembered how long it took to do so but also the patience Nemo had had.

“Killian?” He heard the small voice again and his body was freed from his panic-induced, statue-like state.

Killian put his feet on the ground and turned towards the boy.

“Aye, lad?”

“Good morning.” Even when whispering, the boy managed to say it loudly. His bright smile made Killian’s heart feel like it would burst at any moment and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“I assume you slept well?”

“Yeah, but I’m done sleeping, the sun is out!” Henry said, sitting up next to Emma’s still sleeping form and pointing towards the window as if Killian hadn’t noticed. “That means Captain Turner needs his crew again, right?”

“Any captain would admire your work ethic, lad.” He grinned, before gesturing towards Emma. “Why don’t we let Emma sleep a bit longer?”

It was then that Emma seemed to lose the battle against the wide smile that now brightened her face. Killian noticed first but Henry noticed it louder.

“She’s awake!” Henry exclaimed and Killian was thankful for the lack of any sleeping crew mates in the cabin. He would have to teach Henry some cabin manners.

“How could I sleep when you shoved your elbow in my ribs when you saw the sun?” Emma’s tone was accusatory but the still shining smile on her face killed any trepidation it might have induced.

“I’m sorry!” Henry apologized, a sheepish smile on his face.

“You will be sorry.” Emma moved, faster than either of them were expecting, and grabbed onto Henry, bringing him back down on the bed, and tickling him.

In an instant, Henry’s giggles filled the empty cabin. His loud expression of joy pushed away any demons still waiting in Killian’s head to torment him with memories of the past. Emma’s joining laughter made him wish he could live in this moment for the rest of his life.

“It looks like someone is ready to work!” The captain’s presence was enough to quiet their raucous laughter. Killian could tell that the man’s authoritative tone was merely pretense. The smile on his face was pure joy and not for the first time, he wondered why the captain was being so kind to them.

He felt Emma’s eyes on him. When he met her gaze, he could see she was tense - she obviously wasn’t reading Will’s teasing and joyful visage correctly. He smiled and nodded at her reassuringly and watched as she relaxed.

“Yes, Captain!” Henry quickly scrambled out of bed to stand in front of his bunk with a smart salute.

The adults in the cabin tried to keep their amusement quiet at Henry’s serious expression and posture while his hair was a riotous mess and his clothes fell every which way.

“Very well, Sailor Henry.” Will placed his hands on his hips with a nod and a spark of mischief in his eyes. “All crew members are to present themselves on the main deck.”

“Yes, Captain!” Both Killian and Emma realized Henry’s intentions right away. Killian took a step forward just as Emma grabbed onto his wrist.

“You need to get dressed first, kid.” Emma’s voice shook with barely suppressed mirth.

“But the Captain is waiting!” Henry whined. From the corner of his eye, Killian watched as Will watched with fondness.

“And do you think Captain Turner will want a disheveled sailor in his crew?” Killian asked with a raised eyebrow as he tried to tame the boy’s hair at the same time Emma fixed Henry’s clothing. “I don’t think so!”

They hadn’t done that before. Henry was fairly independent, even during his more lethargic moments in the morning. There had never been the need to care for him before.

“And you need to eat, too,” Emma added to a pouting Henry.

“Not to worry, Sailor Henry.” They all turned to Will where he still stood by the doorway. “Our cook should have something for you to eat so you’re ready for a day of hard work.” Despite the way he spoke directly to Henry, Killian knew it was an invitation for them all. “I’ll see you on the main deck.”

“Yes, Captain!” Emma failed to hide her laughter when Henry saluted once more.

They made sure they all looked presentable to leave the cabin. He didn’t know where Henry’s energy came from as he spoke to everyone he found as he sped down the hall. In the galley, he seemed to be on a first name basis with the cook and he barely breathed as he ate, despite Killian and Emma’s admonishments to the contrary.

Thankfully they all made it above deck without any accidents. Henry was off like a shot towards the captain, eager to be given his tasks for the day. Killian watched the boy amusedly until a pained grunt called his attention back to Emma. She held onto the top of her hood trying to keep it in place. Without her mask back on, Killian could see the pained twist of her lips.

“What’s wrong, love?” Her eyes shot up to look at him. He swallowed drily as he realized that it was the first time he used that particular pet name for her. He tried to keep an impassive expression, as if it was normal - it was, actually. He would use that with any lass.

She cleared her throat as she looked away, and he could breathe again. “The wind is blowing my hood, I have pins to keep it in place and they’re pulling on my hair,” she complained.

“Why don’t you remove it?” Killian suggested. At her sharp glance, he wondered if he had offended her. “To spare you the pain.”

He was met with silence. Turmoil swirled in her eyes and Killian rushed to clarify.

“The weather in these parts is quite rough,” he added. He remembered how Nemo had avoided this region. As they approached Neverland and the Leviathan Shoals, the weather would get worse.

Still, she said nothing, looking everywhere but at him.

Thankfully - or not - Will called for him. He met her eyes and she nodded at the same time he did, although he was unsure of what she meant.

For the next few hours, Killian was busy pulling ropes, tightening knots, climbing up and down the rigging. By the time midday arrived, he was coated with a healthy amount of sweat and he was glad he’d left his great coat and vest in the crew’s cabin.

“Good job, mate.” Will grinned as they stood by the helm.

“It feels good to work for a good captain again.” The joy in his heart surprised him. As much as most of his memories aboard a ship pained him, he still remembered the freedom of the wind in his hair and the scent of the sea in his nose.

Something caught Will’s attention off to the side, making him turn back to Killian with a knowing smile. “It’s time for a break, don’t you think, mate?” Killian nodded, confused at the change in subject. “It seems your wife has some food for you.”

Still confused, Killian turned to where Will gestured.

Any thoughts he might have had of Will’s assumptions of his and Emma’s relationship were gone in a flash. Any thoughts whatsoever flew completely from his mind.

There, in the middle of the main deck, next to an energetic Henry, stood an angel. Emma’s hood was no longer hiding her golden hair, and the wind that had been so troublesome for the whole morning was now trying to break her hastily tied back hair free. She was laughing at something Henry was saying and he could swear there was a glow to her, no longer hidden by the shadow of the hood.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, mate.” Will’s rough hand on his shoulder and subsequent laugh startled him out of his thoughts.

“Aye.” He winced at his rough voice, even as it made Will laugh more, and cleared his throat.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. Even after so many years together, I still look at my wife the same way,” Will confessed in a softer voice as they both looked at Emma and Henry. “Take your break, mate.”

With a last chuckle, Will focused back on navigating the ship and Killian was left trying to tame his thundering heart and racing thoughts.

Just when he thought he might be able to look at least somewhat casual, Emma’s eyes found him. Even at a distance, he could see the shine in her green eyes, imagined he could feel her breath on his skin. He only hoped the distance wouldn’t permit her to hear his faltering breath.

“Killian!” Henry called, finally putting an end to their stare. “Come eat, there’s fish!”

He laughed in surprise. The boy acted like the cooked fish in front of him was a royal feast. He hoped Henry never lost his wonder. Killian would blame the rocking ship for the way his steps faltered, not on his companions matching smiles.

It was hard to concentrate on the, objectively, delicious meal when there was an enchanting blonde and a precocious young boy that made him believe that maybe he could be a part of a family again. Being aboard the Black Pearl and having Will assume that they were one hadn’t been a problem, the three of them acted that way already. They simply had to embrace those roles. What was a problem, at least for him, was how much he was beginning to wish for it to be true. How much it pained him to realize that it wasn’t.

But he could pretend. As they sat together and talked about their mornings, he could pretend.

The afternoon went just as the morning did. Killian rushing from side to side as he helped the crew, Henry running from side to side “helping” as well and Emma, well, he tried to keep his eyes away from her, to avoid distractions. Especially when, after finding her at the other side of the ship pulling on some ropes, he had gotten so distracted, Cotton had to pull on his arm so he wouldn’t get hit in the face, earning the laughter of the surrounding crew. The embarrassment was enough to force the decision to avoid the distraction that was Emma Swan.

Thanks to his early night the day before, Henry had managed to stay awake much longer into the evening. By the time the night crew began their shift, the boy was still running around the deck, no sign of tiring.

“Come on, lad, time for bed.” Killian grinned, scooping up the boy to put him over his shoulder.

“But I’m not tired,” Henry whined, his body limp like a ragdoll as Killian walked carefully across the deck.

“You need to rest so you can help Captain Turner some more tomorrow.” Emma spoke from behind him, probably so she could look at Henry. His hand on the boy’s legs tightened.

“I hate it when you guys are right…” Henry complained before using both hands on Killian’s back to raise the upper half of his body. “Goodnight, mates!” he called out in his best imitation of Killian’s accent.

“Goodnight, Henry!”

A feeling of surprise rose up in Killian when the majority of the crew above deck reciprocated Henry’s farewell, but it wasn’t at all surprising that the boy had managed to charm everyone on board. He couldn’t help but remember how Nemo’s crew was the same way with him.

“Today was fun.” Killian was glad that Henry remembered to whisper when they were in the cabin. All but two of the bunks were full of already sleeping crew members. He sat the boy down on his bunk. “Did you guys have fun, too?”

“I’ve never been on a ship before,” Emma answered and he had to purposefully turn his gaze away from where she was using her fingers to comb her long blonde hair. He wasn’t a lad anymore, he should be able to control himself. “But you’re right, it’s fun to help around.”

Killian felt Henry’s eyes on him. “Aye, I haven’t been aboard a ship in a long time,” he replied as he prepared for bed. “I like Captain Turner’s crew. Very much.”

“Was your last time on a ship that storm?” Henry’s blunt question surprised him but all he saw in the boy’s eyes was curiosity.

“No,” Killian answered, clearing his throat. “After the storm, I was saved by another captain. I was part of his crew for a few years.”

“Oh, I forgot. Was that Captain Nemo?”

He should not have been surprised that Henry remembered the name, since he had mentioned it a few times before, but his heart still skipped a beat. Killian could feel Emma’s eyes on them.

“Aye.”

Killian sat on the bed next to Henry who patted the bed on the other side of him urging Emma to sit there. The innocent gesture made Killian let out an amused breath. It was becoming a tradition, apparently, for them to have important or heartfelt conversations before bed, the three of them, in this same position. Regardless, he wanted them to know about his past and, in a room full of sleeping people, it was better to have it as close as possible.

“As I said, he saved me from the wreckage of the storm.” Killian took a deep breath, preparing himself. “Nemo took care of me when I had lost everything. He gave me a home.”

“What was he like?” Emma asked.

“He was…” He rubbed his hand over his thigh. “He was kind, patient, reliable. He was the one who taught me sailing could be fun.”

“What happened?” Henry whispered.

Killian sighed, scratching his forehead. How was he to tell them that he had had everything he could have ever wished for and had lost it due to his own stubbornness?

In a childish move, Killian fell back on the bed with a huff, thankful that it was wide enough to fit his upper body. He chuckled when Emma and Henry imitated him.

“All we’re missing is the night sky,” Emma pointed out after a few moments of silence as they all looked at the wood framing of the top bunk.

“Maybe tomorrow night, Captain Turner will let us sleep above deck,” Henry suggested, earning a soft laugh from both adults.

“I think the weather might be too rough for that, lad,” Killian warned, placing his hand behind his head.

“The stars will always be there, kid.” He felt Henry’s head leaning against his shoulder with a sigh.

There was a comfortable silence between them. Despite the question, Killian allowed this moment of comfort to wash over him, to help him through the most difficult part of this tale. He took a deep breath.

“Almost a decade ago, I lost my hand,” Killian began, taking a moment to settle comfortably on the bunk. “I lost my hand and my love on the same day. I swore vengeance on the demon who did it. I swore to hurt him the same way he hurt me.”

“Nemo was the one who helped me get better. He took care of me, as he had before, and he fitted me with the hook.” Killian raised his hooked arm. He watched as Henry’s hand wrapped around the steel. Despite his stabilizing breaths, he still felt the stinging in his eyes. Even as he lowered his arm, the weight of Henry’s hand was still on it. “He was trying so hard to help me and I pushed him away. I tried to run away in the middle of the night but he caught me.”

The memories crashed over him. He could feel the cold air of the night on his face, the pain in his left arm and the heavy satchel on his good shoulder. He could see Nemo’s saddened expression, the underlying disappointment Killian was sure he was feeling. He could hear the pleading tone in his voice as he asked Killian to stay. He could still feel the suffocating weight on his chest over leaving the only real home he had ever had.

“I left,” Killian finished with a sigh. “I didn’t want him to be disappointed in me and I didn’t want him to be ashamed of me, so I left.”

Killian lost his battle against the tears when he felt Henry’s arm around his torso and his head on his chest. He removed his hand from behind his head to rub it on the boy’s arm, his own head against Henry’s.

“Have you thought about finding him?” Opening his eyes, Killian found Emma’s. There was no pity, just compassion and understanding.

“Aye.” Killian cleared his throat, hoping to get rid of the wobbly tone of his voice. “Many times. Especially since we started this journey.” Killian felt Henry’s head leave his chest and the boy’s eyes on the side of his face. “I kept wondering what Nemo would do next.

“After you were poisoned,” Killian continued, “I just wanted to see him and beg him for help. He would know what to do.” He felt a second hand on his torso and looked down to see Emma had reached across Henry and placed her own hand on him as well, the lad placing his hand over hers. The silent support comforted him further.

“When I was growing up,” Henry spoke, seemingly out of nowhere, “Tiger Lily would bring me books to read. I used to read about heroes and adventures in faraway places. But my favorite story was about this boy who was all alone and a knight found him and took care of him. I used to read that story every night before bed. I wished for a father like him to come and take me away.”

The silence between them was heavy. It was as if they had all stopped breathing as they took in Henry’s words.

“Nemo was like that knight to you,” the boy continued. “He was a father to you and you miss him.” He shrugged.

Killian said nothing. There was nothing he could say. His only response was to reach over and caress the boy’s cheek with the back of his fingers. He was right.

“When did you get so smart, kid?” Emma asked in a soft teasing tone.

“Since I became a hard-working sailor.”

He feasted on the quiet giggles from the boy as well as Emma’s equally silent chuckle as she pushed away Henry’s rebellious hair.

“Well, I just thought that I would miss you guys if I lost you,” Henry continued in an even smaller voice. “You guys saved me and took care of me. I’m very happy I found you.”

Both Killian and Emma moved in sync as they wrapped their arms around the boy. He felt more than heard Henry’s satisfied sigh, his head nuzzled comfortably in his chest. All together in this tight huddle, Killian felt as if all the loose pieces of his heart stitched together.

“So are we, Henry,” Killian whispered, watching as Emma nodded against the boy’s hair. “So are we.”

There was silence after their conversation, after the declaration of this small found family. He felt Henry’s breath even out and he thought the boy had fallen asleep.

Killian felt Emma’s shoulders tense, their close embrace obviously becoming more real to her now that Henry wasn’t a conscious part of it.

She moved, probably trying to free herself from Henry’s grip to give them space. She had managed to release her hand from the boy’s when Henry grabbed it back again.

“Nope, not yet, please.” His voice was muffled on Killian’s chest but still clear.

Killian couldn’t help laughing at Emma’s surprised expression. He watched as she resigned herself to Henry taking her hand hostage but raised herself to look down at the boy.

“I thought you were asleep, kid.”

With her head down, her blonde hair curtained her face. It was both a shame and a blessing. He couldn’t see her face but never had he had such close proximity to such fair hair. It smelled like the sea.

“Not yet,” Henry said, laying back on the bed to look up at Emma, both their faces now curtained by her long hair. He heard the boy giggle before he saw his hands come up to play with it. His fingers dragged along the strands allowing Killian to see Henry’s delighted expression. “Your hair is pretty.”

“Oh.” Emma’s shoulders stiffened as she pushed the hair away from her face all to one side. The side that allowed him to see her eyes darting back and forth and the blush on her cheeks. “Well, the pins that were holding my hair were hurting me so I took them off…”

“I like it,” Henry confirmed, his fingers now focused on the gathered hair on her shoulder. For a moment, jealousy surged in him of the boy’s ability to do what he himself longed to do.

She looked tense, uncomfortable. He hoped it wasn’t because she regretted trusting them enough to drop her armor. He hoped instead it was because she did trust them and that was scary. He could understand that. “I like it, too.” Killian found himself saying, her wide eyes on him making his breath catch in his throat. Emma looked like she was searching for something. All he could do was let her search, and hope she found what she was looking for.

She smiled and his heart felt like it was trying to beat out of his chest. “Thank you.” Her eyes were no longer on him but on Henry, whose eyes were beginning to droop.

He could breathe again when she laid back down next to Henry, and turned toward them. Killian took a moment to focus on the wood of the bunk above to try and control his heartbeat.

“Emma,” Henry said, his voice quieter than it had ever been, “will you tell me a story?”

Both of them looked at him with surprise.

“Me?” Emma gave voice to their mutual shock. “I thought Killian was the storyteller…”

“Well,” Despite his exhaustion, Henry’s smile was smug. “There are no stars so it’s your turn.”

“I don’t really have any stories, kid.” Emma fumbled, her nerves obvious.

“Then can you sing me something?” Henry’s eyes were pleading and Killian knew it was only a matter of seconds before Emma agreed.

She bit her lip and between that and the possibility of hearing her sing, he knew he needed a moment to prepare his heart. Killian waited with baited breath as the other two settled in more comfortably.

And then she started humming. He knew, consciously, that he shouldn’t have expected her to sing but his disappointment was short-lived. He glanced their way and saw Emma’s eyes on the boy, whose eyes had closed, though it was clear he still wasn’t asleep.

Killian took Henry’s lead and closed his eyes as well. There was something soothing about Emma’s song. Despite its melancholic tune, there was hope in it, a belief that she hid deep down, a hope he knew she was scared of. He let it fill him, feeling like he understood her just a little bit more.

---

He wasn’t sure when they fell asleep and he could only imagine what it looked like to the others who saw them. Two adults and a small child huddled in a narrow bunk.

Killian’s legs were still on the floor with his upper body stretched over the width of the bed. Henry had stretched himself over the length of the bed, legs over Killian’s torso and head next to Emma’s curled up body. She was turned to him, her untied hair resembling a halo around her head, one of her hands under her head and the other on Henry’s head.

He couldn’t help but appreciate this moment. The relative silence surrounding them. Their peaceful expressions as they slept. The trust in him they showed which allowed them to rest fully.

Of course, such a peaceful scenario couldn’t last. A particularly loud thump above deck, woke Emma immediately, the alarm in her green eyes disappearing when her eyes found his. Henry awoke more slowly, rubbing his eyes and yawning. But as soon as he saw the beam of sunlight hitting the top bunk, he was up in a flash.

That day proved to be a continuation of their new routine - Killian helped around the ship along with Emma while Henry ran around the deck. The three of them got together for a meal around midday before going back to work.

By the time the sun set, Henry was worn out. Killian watched as the boy fought sleep as he lay on the main deck, thankfully out of anyone’s way. Emma smiled fondly at the boy.

She joined Killian as he stood at the helm next to the captain. A large map, larger than the one he owned, was stretched over the wood. They both watched as Will checked the stars and his compass to confirm their course.

“It looks like your namesake is guiding our journey.” Will grinned as he turned towards Emma.

Emma looked stunned at the captain and then at the sky.

“I see that as a sign of good luck, mate.” Killian smiled fondly as he looked towards Cygnus and Emma.

“So do I,” Will agreed, receiving curious looks from the two of them. “My wife, she was Swann with two n’s before we were married. I used to say that the swan would guide me home,” he finished, gesturing towards the sky.

Killian was speechless. What were the odds? It did, however, explain his kinship with the captain.

“You have a wife?” Emma asked.

“Aye.” His voice was wistful, a soft smile on his face. “She will be waiting for me when we dock, her and my boy, Henry.” Killian and Emma turned sharp eyes to the now amused captain. “Believe me, I was just as surprised as you are. When I saw you three in Arendelle, I thought I would be able to help you with passage but upon finding out your names, I couldn’t stop thinking that perhaps you were meant to be on my ship.” With his eyes on the horizon, Will sighed. “That’s if you believe those kinds of things.”

Killian couldn’t help but smile. His gaze found Henry on the main deck, finally having succumbed to sleep. At least he had seen the stars. “We might be starting to.”

Just like the night before, Killian took Henry in his arms to take him downstairs, followed closely by Emma. Once in the crew’s quarters, Killian laid Henry carefully down on the bunk they slept on the night before. He stepped back and Emma sat on the bunk to brush away Henry’s hair and kiss his forehead.

“I’ll sleep with him tonight,” Killian offered. “You should have a restful night without small elbows and knees interrupting your sleep.”

They both laughed quietly.

“Thank you,” she whispered, standing up from the bed after caressing Henry’s head one last time. Killian caught his breath at how close to each other they stood.

Her hair was even more beautiful in the moonlight. His hand clenched by his side as he felt the urge to run his fingers through her hair, down her cheek.

“I’m glad you took my advice, Swan.” His whisper seemed to startle her and it took a second before she realized he was talking about the lack of a hood on her head.

“Oh.” There was a bit of self consciousness in her voice, also made apparent by the way she held on to the ends of her hair. “Well, you were right.” She stopped, her eyes darting away for a moment. She took a deep breath and Killian waited for her to continue. “Besides, I don’t need it with the two of you.”

He didn’t expect her to actually voice what he had suspected, and to hear it now filled his chest with what could only be deemed as hope. Hope that she trusted him. Hope that she might be starting to care for him, as he cared for her.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her, felt like he hadn’t taken a breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He wondered if she could hear it as well. They were definitely moving closer, but he wasn’t sure if he was swaying towards her or if she was leaning towards him.

A quiet grunt from the bunk shattered the moment between them. Turning to the right, they could clearly see a frown on Henry’s face. He must have been having a bad dream.

“I should…”

“We should get some sleep,” Emma said with a final nod as she took a step back to remove her boots and prepare for bed.

“Aye,” he agreed, going through the same motions before he joined Henry on the bed. “Goodnight, Swan.”

“Goodnight.”

For just a moment, he wished he could know what was going through her mind. And if it was remotely similar to what was going through his.

---

The next day, they were met with low dark clouds and a tumultuous sea when they joined the crew on the main deck. With concerned frowns, they joined the captain where he was giving orders.

“This will only get worse, mates,” Will informed the crew. “We’re passing through Neverland.” Killian’s hand tightened on Emma’s arm to help keep her steady. “We will need all hands on deck for this stretch of the journey.” Will turned to them. “I would suggest you keep your boy below deck for his safety.”

Henry wouldn’t like it, that was for sure. The boy was much too stubborn for that. Even if Henry looked like he could feel the difference in everyone’s demeanours and the gravity of the situation, he seemed determined to act as usual.

“Captain, why don’t I stay with Henry below deck? To make sure he stays safe and away from danger?” Emma suggested and he wondered if Will could also see the unrestrained fear in her eyes.

“This passage is dangerous for even the most seasoned sailor,” Will said with an empathetic smile. “We should be alright with your husband’s help. Stay below deck and keep safe.” With a nod, the captain returned to his crew.

“Will you be okay, Swan?” Killian asked, standing in front of her.

“Yeah.” She nodded, finally catching his eye. “I’ll help by staying below deck with Henry. It’ll be safer for all of us. Just,” she paused and grabbed his left arm with a tight grip. “Be careful.”

There was more she wasn’t telling him and he could only hope she’d share it with him later, when they weren’t dealing with this nightmarish situation. His internal battle eased as he gave into temptation and cupped her cheek with his hand, his thumb caressing her soft skin. Surprise colored her face at the gesture, but, to his relief, she didn’t pull away from him.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Emma, I’m a survivor.”

Her lips parted, her eyes shining and Killian was sure she wanted to say something else.

“I’m sorry, mate,” Will shouted, clearly chagrined as the rain began to fall. “But we need you at the top sail. And Swan, get yourself and Henry below deck!”

“Aye, Captain,” Killian yelled over the wind, before turning back to Emma with a reassuring smile. “Take care of the boy for me?”

She smiled and nodded at him before rushing to Henry’s side. She knelt in front of him, uncaring of the wet deck.

He expected to see Henry’s obstinacy but Emma put a stop to it quickly. Once the hatch closed behind them, Killian could breathe once more, no longer having to worry about their safety.

The sea was determined to take them. The ship rocked from all directions as the crew struggled desperately to keep her afloat.

There wasn’t an inch of Killian that wasn’t soaked and he tried to focus on the loud voice of the captain instead of on the cold wind against his skin or the feeling of drowning when a particularly strong wave vaulted over the gunwale. Killian kept his focus on pulling and tying ropes instead of on the abrasions they created on his hand.

“Steady, men! The ocean depths won’t take us today!” Will’s strong voice rose above the raucous sound of the waves and every crew member answered with a shout.

The camaraderie amongst all the crew members lifted his spirits and helped him banish the memories of the last time he’d been in a storm like this.

The dark fog remained around them as well as the strong winds. Killian kept his eyes away from the port side and the whirlpool of Leviathan’s Shoals. There wasn’t much to see to starboard due to the heavy fog and he tried to determine how long it had been since Henry and Emma had secured themselves below deck - the sky was dark and he swore he could see two stars high in the sky, the one on the right shining brighter than the other. For a moment, he wondered if the water was affecting his vision as he watched dark shapes float over the Neverland sky.

After what felt like days, the winds finally calmed and the sun shone lower in the sky. There was a collective sigh of relief throughout the crew as the ship settled in the calm seas.

No sooner had he taken a deep stabilizing breath, when it was taken away again as short strong arms wrapped around his torso. A fleeting thought ran through his mind that Henry was probably getting soaked as well from the contact before he kneeled on the wood to wrap his arms around the boy.

“It’s alright, my boy,” Killian whispered in the boy’s ear, as his hand ran through Henry’s dark hair. “We’re alright, it’s passed.”

“I wanted to come and help you but no one would let me.” His small whisper made Killian smile even as his eyes stung with relieved tears.

“But you did help, lad,” Killian assured him, causing the boy to pull his head back with a frown from where it had hidden in the crook of Killian’s neck. “I knew you and Emma were safe and that helped me and the other crew members do what we needed to do. You know all I want is for you to be safe.”

Henry rolled his eyes even as his lips lifted in a small smile he clearly hoped to hide. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I do,” Killian chuckled.

“But you did help, Henry.” Emma’s voice made them look up from where they were still hugging. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her hands holding on to her upper arms. He wondered if she was cold and he regretted not being able to give her his soaked through coat. “The kind of help you were talking about,” she continued. “You helped the surgeon and the rest of the crew secure the ship.”

“See? We couldn’t do it without you,” Killian added with a smile and he made a conscious effort not to be distracted by Emma’s responding nervous smile.

He wanted to ask what she was thinking, to know what was going on in her mind, but Henry rolled his eyes once more with a much more open smile before hugging Killian again.

“Henry!” Captain Turner called out jovially from the other side of the ship catching the boy’s attention. He was off like a shot.

“Be careful!” Both Killian and Emma called out in warning, the only indication that Henry had even heard them being the slightly slower speed of his running feet.

They both laughed. She was beautiful when she laughed. It was true when he could only see her eyes. It was true when she’d trusted them enough to remove her mask, and it was especially true now with her blonde hair shining in the late afternoon sun.

Her green eyes sparked with mirth as she turned towards him. He was sure he sported an idiotic smile that he just couldn’t hide. Despite his reasoning that he’d be able to keep Emma and Henry out of his head once he knew they were safe, it had been much easier said than done.

Her laughter died down and the fear returned to her eyes. He didn’t say anything, he simply gave her time and space to deal with what was going on inside her, taming his smile to a softer, more encouraging one.

“I hope you know… I wanted to stay here with all of you and help,” she started in a softer voice, her eyes looking at everything except him. “But… with Neverland so close, I-”

“You don’t need to explain, love,” Killian interrupted. He had suspected that was the reason she seemed so frightened earlier - despite her inherent bravery and strength, he couldn’t imagine that being so close to such a traumatic place had been easy. “I understand.”

He hoped she saw the raw truth in his eyes, because he did. He understood.

“I’m-I,” Emma stammered and he noticed the way her hands tightened around her arms in discomfort. He waited. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“I did tell you I was a survivor.” He smiled softly at her with a raised eyebrow. He was happy to see her respond with a reluctant smile, so reminiscent of Henry’s that his smile grew wider.

“Yeah, a wet survivor, maybe,” she teased, pinching the collar of his shirt with a feigned disgusted expression on her face. He was glad that she had managed to avoid his exposed skin even if he was helpless before her with the way her nose scrunched up rather adorably.

His lips stretched in a mischievous smile and she frowned in confusion when she noticed, only to widen her eyes immediately when she realized his plan. Before she could move away, Killian shook his hand vigorously from where he had placed it on his hair to sprinkle Emma with the water still lodged in it.

She laughed in surprise as she placed her hands in front of her face in a futile attempt to protect herself. He joined her, delighted to hear the joy in her laugh. When he stopped, she looked up at him, her laughter restarting once more.

“What?”

“Your hair!”

Emma’s laughter was reduced to amused chuckles as she reached up to fix it. He felt as if his heart stopped beating as he felt her fingers running through his hair. He wasn’t sure what was happening on his face but whatever it was, it must have made Emma realize their current position. She removed her hand slowly from his hair with frightened eyes.

He couldn’t help but wonder why she was so afraid to be close to him, to let herself feel. But then again, he didn’t really need to wonder, he knew. It was the same reason he tried to push away his own growing feelings towards her. It was the same reason they had struggled to trust each other. It was the same reason he had latched on to the need to protect Henry.

They had been hurt before.

“Mates!” The captain’s voice called everyone’s attention. “I couldn’t have asked for a better crew to sail with, thank you!” There were deafening cheers from across the ship. “We should arrive home tomorrow for some well-deserved rest!”

As they crossed the ship towards where Henry stood next to Will, they heard the excited and expectant chatter of the crew as they spoke of their awaiting loved ones.

“So you all live in the Maritime Kingdom?” Henry asked.

“My crew and I have been sailing together for a decade,” Will answered. “When I settled down with my family in the kingdom, they decided to join me.”

“You have a family?”

“Aye, my wife should be expecting me tomorrow and my boy as well.”

“How do they know you’re arriving tomorrow?” Henry frowned.

“Well,” Will chuckled. “I have been sailing for a long time, and they know approximately how long my journey will take and so, they’ll be keeping a weather eye on the horizon everyday waiting to see my ship.”

Henry was clearly fascinated and Killian smiled wistfully as he couldn’t help but put himself in Will’s shoes. He wished to have the same certainty of an awaiting family even as his heart and mind struggled to settle on whether he wanted Emma and Henry to be waiting for him or to join him on his travels. Even as he struggled to think of anyone else but Emma and Henry as his family.

“If I was your son, I would want to travel with you.” Henry brought him back from his daydreaming and he smiled at the boy’s wistful expression.

“He does, sometimes,” Will placated with a laugh. “He’s still young, though, a little younger than you, and this journey is dangerous. I feel better knowing he’s safe with his mother.”

At the word mother, Henry swayed towards Emma who stood behind him and she placed her hand on Henry’s shoulder. The boy startled slightly, making Killian think that he hadn’t meant to do it.

“What’s his name?” Henry asked.

Will’s smile grew wider and Killian and Emma both turned to watch Henry’s reaction to the answer. “Well, his name is Henry.”

Henry’s jaw dropped in surprise before it changed to a frown. “No, it’s not. You’re lying,” he accused looking between the three adults around him.

“I am not, lad.” Will held up his hand while the other lay on his heart. “I swear to you.”

Henry narrowed his eyes and inspected Will’s face before relaxing into a smile. “Can I meet him?”

They all laughed at Henry’s excitement.

“I’m sure he would love to meet you,” Will answered before glancing at Killian and Emma. “But, I will leave that up to your parents.”

Killian felt like he choked on his laughter and Emma tensed up next to him, as Henry looked up at them in expectation. He knew Will thought them a family, had referred to them as such for the entire journey, and none of them have had the heart or the courage to deny it. Besides, they felt like a family. They’d shared those sentiments with each other already. But to have it said so explicitly by someone else outside their little circle was still jarring. But the assumption didn’t seem to bother Henry.

“Uhm,” Killian fumbled after too long a silence for such a simple question. “We’ll have to see when we dock.”

If his voice wasn’t convincing or if his expression seemed odd, no one had time to react as Will’s attention was called back to his crew and the three of them were left alone.

“We need to carry on to Misthaven. There is no time to waste,” Emma declared, clearly believing that their game of pretend shouldn’t get in the way of the mission.

“Aye,” Killian nodded, his thumb hooked over his belt. “It’s still an almost two-day journey to the kingdom by horse. Who knows how long it will take to walk it.”

Henry’s frown deepened, clearly displeased with the answer. “I think we can stop for a night at least. I would like to play with someone my own age, for once.” His crossed arms and set mouth were still far more adorable than aggravating.

“You know how important our mission is, Henry. Villains are still looking for you. They haven’t stopped. We need to carry on as quickly as possible,” Killian reminded the boy, Emma nodding her head in agreement.

“I know that,” he said. “They want the Heart of the Truest Believer, and that’s me.” Henry’s expression was exasperated as he whispered his title before his expression fell. “But Captain Turner has been so good to us and I’ll miss him.”

“I know, lad.” Killian sighed, kneeling in front of him. “I will too, but the mission is too important. Let’s just enjoy the time we have with him now.”

Henry’s fallen expression remained and he couldn’t help but feel like the worst person in the world for denying him this but they had to keep going.They didn’t have time to waste.

“I know…” Henry sighed, but then a glint of mischief shone in his eyes. “Then can you teach me to sword fight?”

Killian’s eyes widened at the gall of the boy, pride swelling in his chest at his scheming. Emma’s expression was the first to fall apart, a smile stretching her lips even as she tried to hide it. Henry’s pout was losing the battle against a smile at Killian’s expression. He huffed in amusement as he shook his head.

“You drive a hard bargain, lad,” Killian grinned. “But I’ll accept.”

Henry’s smile was wide and bright. “When do we start?”

“When we make camp on land. It would be disastrous to teach a landlubber like you to sword fight on a ship,” he teased.

Henry scrunched up his nose at the term. “Do you promise?”

“Aye.”

Henry nodded and Killian noticed Emma’s fond smile on her face as she watched the negotiations. “I’m holding you to that.”

Without another word, Henry stepped away, joining the other sailors. Killian was quite sure he intended to ask about the stormy journey from their perspectives. Emma and Killian watched in silence for a bit longer before they laughed.

---

The rest of the day was calmer. Everyone still seemed to be relaxing after the stressful journey. The warm sun dried them and the deck, making it a far more pleasant trip than any of the previous days. When the sun disappeared behind the horizon and the stars began to appear, Killian found Emma and Henry sitting with their backs against a crate.

“What are you two doing?” Killian asked as he stood next to them.

Both looked at him in surprise and his smile grew.

“We’re watching the stars,” Henry answered excitedly, pointing up and disrupting the blanket Emma placed over the two of them. “Join us.”

He looked around the deck. Everyone was focused on their jobs and the crates were placed away from the busy sailors. The weather was pleasant. Why not?

“Make some room,” Killian said, to the happy expressions of his two companions. He sat down with Henry settling between the two adults, the blanket stretched over their laps.

The sky was clear. Not a cloud to block their view. The stars were shining bright like they knew it was their last night aboard The Black Pearl. The night was calm and quiet, despite the noise of the crew.

Killian diverted his gaze away from the sky to watch as Emma turned to it instead. Their time on the ship had been so idyllic that he almost wished they could stay there longer. But Henry needed them. Looking down at the boy, he found him looking at him, expectantly.

“What?” Killian asked, in surprise. He hoped he hadn’t caught him looking at Emma.

“We have stars,” Henry answered, gesturing towards the sky as if Killian was supposed to know what he meant. When neither adult made a noise, Henry sighed. “You can tell me a story now.”

Killian laughed boisterously at Henry’s expression as he put his arm around the boy’s shoulders, drawing him closer. He caught Emma’s fond smile in the corner of his eye. “You’re right. How could I have forgotten?”

Henry smiled widely as he settled more comfortably against Killian’s chest and took Emma’s hand to hold in his lap. Killian waited for Henry to stop his fidgeting and looked at the blonde amused. She shared his smile, the eye contact, unfortunately, not lasting long before she looked up to the sky. He did the same, looking for a constellation he recognised.

“Do you see that constellation that looks like a fish’s tail?” Killian asked, pointing towards the southeast. The constellation was brightest in the sky as it always was when there was a full moon.

Henry hummed in the affirmative, keeping his eyes on the sky as Emma did the same. His eyes rested a minute too long on her fetching profile.

“It tells the tale of a mermaid,” Killian started, focusing on his story. “A mermaid who became a collector of human things. She created her own treasure trove under the sea but it wasn’t full of gold or jewels. It was full of books, boxes, paintings, even cutlery; she found those to be more precious than any gem.”

“What happened to her?”

“Her love for humans wasn’t restricted to just objects. It was said she met a man she saved from drowning.”

“Was it love at first sight?” Henry asked with a frown.

“Anyone who told the story would say yes. The mermaid made a deal with a sea witch that would turn her into a human for three days, to allow her to get close to the man, who actually turned out to be a prince. And that only True Love’s kiss would turn her into a human forever.”

“And you don’t believe that?” Emma’s question tinged his cheeks pink and he thanked the dark night for hiding it. Talking of love had become much more difficult in her presence.

“I believe that the mermaid was thrown into the world she coveted. By saving the man she got a taste of what she yearned for.” Killian took a deep breath, wondering if he was letting his personal experiences influence the story. “I believe that she grew to love the prince because they shared the same interests, a love for life and adventure.”

Even after a decade, he could still see her. His Milah. Her bright eyes would hang on to his every word, her hand under her chin, barely any space between them - almost as if she could live his tale if she were just an inch closer.

“I agree.” Henry’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight, catching his attention and Killian smiled. How different his life would be without this boy.

“Is that the whole story?” Emma asked, discomfort showing on her face.

“No.” Killian cleared his throat. “The mermaid got her legs and met the man she saved. For three days, they were inseparable. They could be seen around the kingdom, exploring, laughing, telling tales of adventure. Love blossomed between them.”

“In three days?” Emma’s eyebrows rose in disbelief.

“There were no walls between them,” Killian answered. He almost regretted it when Emma turned her head back to the sky, but she needed to hear it. “They understood each other and wanted the same things. It was inevitable.”

Emma lowered her head, a frown barely visible in the dark. Was she thinking the same thing he was? He felt Henry snuggling closer to him, eyes drooping.

“The sea witch, who’d made the deal with the mermaid, didn’t want her to succeed. She turned into a giant monster so she could get rid of them. Despite her interference, the mermaid and the prince defeated her, together.”

“Did she become a human?” Henry mumbled.

“Aye.” Killian’s hand rubbed up and down the boy’s arm soothingly. “It is said that when the setting sun touches the waves, you can still see the mermaid and her prince on walks along the beach, exploring, laughing and talking.”

Henry’s head was heavy against his chest and he pulled the boy closer to keep him comfortable as he slept. Emma’s presence, usually calming, was making him uneasy for some reason. Killian focused on the quiet setting surrounding them and on Henry’s calm breathing.

He heard Emma’s deep breath. “For someone whose happy ending involves murder, you are quite the romantic,” Emma commented, her tone slightly accusatory.

“I have had a great love taken from me. I think I earned the ability to be both, don’t you?”

“You fill his head with such happy endings. Don’t you think we should be preparing him for the reality of the world?”

Her words felt as if she had thrown them all the way back to the beginning of their journey. But Killian had already seen her smile. He wasn’t willing to let go of that progress.

“What has you so scared?”

Her eyes widened and her lips parted. He kept eye contact with her, opening himself up to her, silently urging her to trust him. She sighed, defeated.

“What doesn’t?” Emma whispered. “You’ve seen what he has been put through. And who knows what we’re heading into? How can you not be scared?” Her eyes lowered to her hand, where Henry’s grip had loosened in sleep.

“Believe me, love, I am scared.” There was a small soft smile on his face when her eyes whipped to his. “I have known fear all my life. And every step we take, every mile we walk, I am more scared than I have ever been. I am scared something will happen to him… to you… because of me.”

“Henry needs me to guide him. He needs me to be strong, and so I carry on despite my fear. I keep going because I must. Because I will follow Henry wherever he goes.” He let his words settle for a moment. “And I imagine the same goes for you.”

Emma was silent. Her eyes were on his, fear and hope battling each other in the deep green. They understood each other. He could only hope she could see the confidence and trust he had in her in his eyes. Finally, she looked down, her thumb rubbing Henry’s hand, Killian’s eyes following the movement.

“I never thought,” she began, in a quiet voice, “that Henry would become so important to me. I didn’t count on him. I didn’t count on you and I was so angry that things became so complicated. I thought it was just anger, but I realized I was just scared.”

Killian’s eyes found hers in an instant. She was already looking at him. Her small smile didn’t mask the chaos of emotions in her eyes, but he saw hope win out, her courage rising.

“All my life I’ve been alone. I have been running for as long as I can remember and that’s how I survived. In Neverland, I ran to stay alive. When I left, I ran when things got complicated… when I was scared. I didn’t want to stay still. That left you vulnerable, and being vulnerable got you hurt.”

Killian didn’t speak, lest he break the moment they were having with Emma trusting him with her story. But he wanted to comfort her, to let her know that he was there for her. With as subtle a movement as he could, Killian placed his hand on her arm. Emma didn’t flinch and he counted that as a win.

“When I joined the two of you,” Emma continued, her eyes on the sky and her voice quiet, “I was scared to trust you. In the end, I was scared that trusting you meant being vulnerable, meant that you could hurt me.”

Despite his best efforts to remain silent, Killian felt the need to reassure her. “Emma, I would ne-”

“I know.” The strength of her belief, the trust and vulnerability in her eyes, quieted him instantly.

For a moment, Killian wondered if he had fallen asleep and this was all a dream - Emma’s trust, Henry’s peaceful presence and the feeling of safety surrounding them - until he felt her touch his hand, her fingers brushing his with a softness he never thought he missed.

“I know,” Emma repeated, her small confident smile making his heart beat faster.

He wanted to kiss her, to hold her, to keep her safe. The sudden thought had been buried in the back of his mind for a while, he realized. He hadn’t felt that way for anyone in so long.

“I trust you.” Even with the confidence in her words and in her eyes, she still sounded hesitant. Old habits die hard, he assumed. “And I’m going to do everything I can to keep the two of you safe.”

“Me too.” For someone typically never in short of words, his lackluster response was pitiful. He watched as Emma’s smile grew shy, and he stopped breathing.

It had to be a dream.

The warmth of her hand still touching his reassured him.

“I trust you, too, Emma,” Killian said, holding her hand properly. “I don’t know what’s coming next, but I will be by your side. We will be by your side.”

Her smile reached her eyes now, with creases on her nose and dimples in her cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to touch her cheek, to taste her smile, to live in her light. Killian smiled with her.

He stayed stock still as she leaned toward him, his thundering heartbeat overwhelming any other sound. And then her lips brushed his cheek, a soft touch that stopped his heart. He probably shouldn’t die right now, it would be bad form.

Emma kissed Henry’s temple next and he wondered if she did it to mask her emotions. His heart beat a steady pace in his chest and his breathing returned to normal. He watched with regret as she pulled back the blanket from her legs.

“We should probably take him to bed.” Her fingers ran slowly through Henry’s hair, uncovering his open-mouthed sleeping face.

Emma smiled and he smiled with her.

“Aye, I’ll carry him down.”

Killian reveled in the way she walked beside him. He hoped the darkness below deck hid his blush at the way she touched his arms to help him down the stairs, while he still carried Henry. He tried to hide his disappointment when he realized they would have to part for the night.

“Would you mind if I slept with Henry tonight?” Emma asked, after he lay Henry down on the bunk and she sat next to him.

Killian didn’t expect her to sleep next to him. Nor did he have any special desire to be the one sleeping with the boy. He could tell she needed the comfort, love, and easiness Henry’s presence offered. So he smiled.

“Of course, love. But beware of bruising limbs.”

His smile grew to a smirk and she laughed, a soft joyful sound that nestled neatly in his chest. Killian took off his coat to keep his hands busy.

“Thank you,” Emma whispered, and he watched her lie down. “Goodnight, Killian.”

Killian sat on his bed. “Goodnight, Emma.”

It was a long while before he fell asleep. The feel of her lips on his cheek, her touch, her smile, her eyes, filled his head. And when he finally fell asleep, his dreams repeatedly asked him what if.

What if she had kissed his lips instead of his cheek? What if he had touched her the way he wanted to? What if she had confessed to something else, something greater than her trust in him? What if he had confessed instead?

It had been a decade since he had fallen in love. He knew it wasn’t love yet, but his dreams made something quite clear: it easily could be.

---

Killian woke up to a shout from above. He looked around to find the cabin empty - that wasn’t too strange. What was strange, was to find that both Henry and Emma were awake and out of bed. He had never slept so late without a hangover.

When he finally joined the crew above deck, he found it much fuller than it had ever been.

One look at the horizon told him the reason for the excitement. He could see land in the distance. Within the hour, they would dock at the Maritime Kingdom.

“Look, Killian! We’ve arrived!” Henry’s enthusiastic shout called Killian’s attention to him and brought Emma’s attention to Killian.

For a moment he worried that she regretted her confessions from the night before. He worried she would shut him out. His unease vanished when she smiled at him - he could still see the fear behind her eyes but he could also see how she stubbornly pushed it down.

He could do nothing but smile back.

A/N: Henry's "waking up with the sun" attitude was actually a little self-insert: When I was young, I used to wake up my parents by shouting that "sun's out! sun's out!" and no one else could go back to sleep. I thought why not? Hope you enjoyed!

#cssns23 #carolina writes #killian jones #captain hook #emma swan #captainswan #captain swan #henry mills #once upon a time #ouat #ouat ff #cs ff #will turner #potc #thanks for the patience guys #so glad to be back #parent for hire

15 notes · View notes

pascaloverx · 10 months

Text

As It Was

Chapter Eight

previous chapter next chapter

Summary: Our protagonist has a plan but like everything in life, it is subject to change.

Warnings: Use of explicit language, adult content, potential depiction of physical and verbal violence. Minors are advised not to read or engage with this story. Minors should not interact with this story.

Personal Note: I will possibly divide this fanfic into two seasons so this season of the fanfic will probably end in the next two chapters. Afterwards the fanfic will take a brief hiatus. I hope you continue to follow the story.

The turquoise blue dress that I was forced to wear tightens around my waist significantly. Dave planned everything so that today's mission would go better than the last. He'll even make sure Bucky doesn't get into trouble.

"It's too dangerous for you to try to deceive Killian and only take Rogers with you." James says as he helps me finish putting on this dress. His metal hand gently touches my shoulder while the other hand finishes fastening the dress.

"Thank you for the unsolicited opinion dear but in the current situation I will choose to take the one who hasn't been shot recently." I say while fixing my hair, then putting on the shoe with Barnes' help.

"Are you always going to throw that gunshot story in my face?" Barnes speaks.

I turn to face Barnes—who is as uncomfortable as can be—and kiss him. A kiss that serves to calm the nerves of your grumpy ex-husband.

"I'll throw it in your face until I forget about this situation. Also, try to go easy on Dave. He'll keep an eye on you while I..." I was going to continue, but it seems unnecessary to disclose everything to Barnes. I then hear the sound of a car arriving. Steve must have come as planned, as per the encrypted messages Dave sent to him—Barnes and I exchange glances.

"Promise me you'll be careful. I'll come to you if necessary." He adds. He looks so apprehensive, I end up hugging him tightly to comfort him. This moment that you are together makes you remember what it was like before all this. When you realize it, you're already near Steve's car, waiting for Steve and Bucky to stop staring at each other.

"I hope you know I don't like the idea of you being her date tonight." Barnes says — crossing his arms as he awaits a response from Rogers — who, in turn, lets out a sarcastic chuckle.

"You're still the same arrogant Barnes; it was expected that you had grasped that no one here is asking for your opinion." Steve says so calmly that it might have irritated James a little more because he doesn't have a happy expression.

"You two will have plenty of time to stare at each other and exchange compliments when this mission is over. Until then, pretend to tolerate each other." You say looking at the two, eye to eye. To make sure they understand you don't have time for male rivalry.

"I just wanted Rogers to understand that if something goes wrong today, he's going to have to accept the consequences." James speaks in a threatening tone - which I personally find cute when he's not so inconvenient.

"How did you deal with the consequences of putting yourself at risk in the middle of a mission? Or did you leave Harrison to play babysitter while I had to grapple with the fact that we failed to gather crucial information to clear a man who doesn't seem so innocent to me?" Steve speaks, pointing his finger at James. I can feel the tension escalating between them right in front of me.

"I don't seem innocent to the great and noble Steve Rogers, please arrest me. You're not the moral authority. No wonder Carter left you." Barnes just crossed a line that you're not exactly sure of, but I know it's been surpassed because Rogers' fists now meet Barnes' face. You don't know how to react, you just know that you have to separate the two while using a tight dress and a mask that prevents you from having a clear view of everything.

"Nice speech coming from the man who was with his partner but ran into the arms of his ex when he needed help. It must be good to have the courage to point out in others what you see in yourself." Rogers says while punching Barnes, who retaliates with another punch. I'm surprised by such idiocy. Not much options, I decide to break up the fight by getting into the car and reversing. What also gets I very close to running them over.

After some shouts of disapproval—with both of them yelling while I brake the car—I manage to not only make them stop fighting but also get them to focus on me. I feel like I could fight with both of them, or just give up on everything; enter that cabin and go to sleep.

"Rogers, inside the car now. Barnes, go inside, and it's better if I don't find out you left this cabin before I return. Otherwise, find someone else to help you. I hope both of you have understood; I won't repeat myself." Without having anything else to say, I head into the car, in the back seat. I no longer look at either of them as they obey my orders.

Steve doesn't say anything the whole way, and I don't encourage him to talk to me either. Today is my possible last chance to snag Killian, and now all I can think is that I'm surrounded by idiots. I only realize that time has passed when I find myself surrounded by masked people in front of what seems to be the fanciest hotel I've ever seen. Steve silently opens the door for me to leave, which is a good indication that he understands that I am at my limit. I grip his hand tightly, but instead of moving forward, I pull him towards me.

I feel the need to make the atmosphere more passionate between us, so I kiss him. A kiss that I intended to be soft and quick but intensified as neither Steve nor I made any move to end it. Sometimes, I just don't know how to understand Rogers. It seems like he doesn't want anything with me, but he helps me and kisses me as if he wants something more.

"Now you really look like my boyfriend, and let me fix something here..." I say, adjusting Steve's tie. He, looking somewhat confused, gives me a peck on the lips and thanks me. I officially can't understand my relationship with Rogers, but strangely, it works.

We both entered the hotel lobby seeing that the masquerade party was taking place in the main hall. Everyone was so luxurious that I felt slightly inadequate. Steve looks stunning in his black suit and mask. He holds me by the waist and guides me to the main hall.

"I'll try to locate Killian, and..." Steve begins to speak as he tries to pull away from me, but I hold him by the waist, intertwining my arm around his back.

"Killian needs to come to us naturally. No tricks. The only thing you have to do is take me to the center of the ballroom and dance with me as if you're in love." I end up sounding bossy, but in reality, being commanding is addictive. Steve seems to accept my idea and just takes me to the dance floor. Our dance is slow, with a touch of sensuality. For a moment, Rogers holds my leg as we're about to finish the dance. I even forget that the plan is to attract Killian when I feel Steve's hands guiding me in this dance.

When the music stops, Steve and I smile as if proud of the dance. I even hug him lightly, which allows me to see Killian watching us. I confess that him being the only one without a mask leaves no doubt that it's him. And he's coming our way. I guess now I'll have to do my best.

To be continued...

tag: @cjand10

#bucky barnes x oc #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #steve rogers x original female character #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes series #Spotify

11 notes · View notes

9haharharley1 · 1 year

Text

The Proposal, ch?? teaser

Killian stopped as he entered the house, hearing music from the kitchen. It was familiar, something he hadn't heard in at least a few years. Elvis wasn't someone he typically listened to.

He hadn't thought Walter would be a fan either.

He could see the kid at the table, tinkering with some new project. The kid could barely keep that big brain of his occupied, and if he wasn't working on some project for R.T.U.V. then he was working on some personal project or other. He'd barely left the kid alone for an hour while he took a jog to stretch his legs and get some air, and already Walter had taken apart the toaster. He's surprised it actually took this long.

"What are you doing?" he asked, chuckling as Walter nearly fell out of his chair, so engrossed in his work he hadn't heard Killian enter. He jerked his head over with wide eyes. Killian raised his hands, the fingers on his new hand clicking a little. "Easy, kid. Didn't mean to startle you."

"Who's startled? I'm not startled! You didn't startle me!" Walter rambled. Killian just rose a brow with a small smirk. Walter coughed. "Right, uh..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. I guess I was spacing pretty hard."

"You have to learn to be more aware of your surroundings," Killian stated. He strolled to the sink, filling up a glass of water and taking a sip before taking a seat next to the younger man. Walter wouldn't look at him. "Might get you hurt one day."

Walter gave a sad little snort. "Yeah, well... it wouldn't be the first time." Killian felt a burst of anger, first at the thought of any who would dare hurt such a sweet kid, only for it to settle at the realization that he had also hurt the little genius. He released a slow, controlled breath. Walter shook his head. "A-anyway," he stuttered, "h-how was your run?"

"Oh, it was quite exciting," Killian said, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. He grinned at the wide eyes the kid gave him. "I saw some birds, saw some trees." Walter's lips pursed, eyes narrowing. Killian smirked. "I think I even saw a fox."

"Okay, now you're just teasing," Walter grumbled.

"A bit, yeah," Killian admitted. The song on the radio changed, Heartbreak Hotel switching over to Blue Suede Shoes. He figured Walter was listening to a playlist instead of a radio station. "What are you working on?" He gestured to the mess on the table.

Walter's eyes widened. "Uh... The flippy thing on the toaster wasn't working..."

Killian rose a brow. "Seemed to be working fine this morning."

"Okay, fine- I got bored!" Walter admitted. He threw his hands up. "The bread was taking too long to toast, and I was getting impatient! So I thought, maybe I could make it heat up faster. Instant toast!"

"You're going to strain the heating element if you do that," Killian pointed out. "Wears it out faster."

Walter sighed. "Yeah, I know. Worth a shot, though, right?" He gave Killian one of those shy smiles.

"Never hurts to try." Killian ignored the soft feeling that little smile brought him. He glanced over at the counter where Walter's little cobbled together radio sat. "Although," he started, "I never would have figured you for an Elvis fan."

"Well, you would figure correct," Walter admitted. He looked back down at the toaster, clearly avoiding Killian's gaze. "My, uh... My mom loved Elvis. She and my grandma used to listen to all kinds of old music."

"And how old counts as old music?" Killian asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Anything before I was born," Walter said with a laugh. "But really anything before 1991. Mom was a big Queen and Michael Jackson fan."

"At least she had some taste," Killian muttered. That earned him another quiet laugh, and he counted that as a point in his favor. As the song ended and the opening notes of the next started, Killian had an idea. He grinned a little. "Although, Elvis was the King for a reason."

Walter looked up from where he was screwing a panel back in place, brow raised in curiosity. "And what's that?"

Killian stood, holding out his new hand to the younger man. Walter looked confused but took it, only to yelp as Killian hauled him from the seat, catching him around his thin waist with his good arm. He watched as pale cheeks flushed bright red, grinning down at the boy as he adjusted his hold on Walter's hand. "He certainly knew how to set the mood." Walter stared back with wide eyes.

"Wise men say"-

Killian led with a step away from the table to the more open space of the kitchen, chuckling as Walter stumbled over his feet.

"Only fools rush in"-

"Follow my lead," he murmured, pulling the youth closer. Walter only seemed to blush more, looking away from Killian's face to his chest. This seemed to only make him even more embarrassed, and he glanced off to the side.

"But I can't help"-

He couldn't seem to figure out what to do with his other hand, eventually placing it on Killian's upper arm. The kid barely came up to his shoulders, and Killian tightened his grip around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. He was so small in Killian's arms.

"Falling in love with you."

---

Because I have zero self-control and @gilly-moon asked so nicely, how could I refuse?? And yes, Walter built him a new arm.

#harley writes #fic #my writing #wip #spies in disguise #walter x killian #walter x lance

22 notes · View notes

whimsicallyenchantedrose · 9 months

Text

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 32: New Year New Town

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1868

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

A/N: Taking place sometime not long before grown up Henry calls for Hook, Regina and Emma to come to his aid in the alternate Enchanted Forest in 7x2, the residents of Storybrooke are living out their Happy Beginnings. With New Years approaching, Regina and Snow decide it’s time for a new town wide initiative. Emma and Killian use the occasion to make a special announcement of their own.

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

“Good morning, Beautiful. How was your night?” Killian crooned softly as he leaned down to kiss Emma’s cheek, his hand softly caressing her shoulder.

Emma smiled as she slowly opened her eyes and turned over to meet her husband’s adoring gaze. She’d introduced him to the song a few months ago, and ever since then, he’d woken her up to it nearly every morning.

They’d been married for five years now, and yet Killian could still make her stomach swoop like a teenager with her first crush. It should be illegal for someone to be so romantic.

Emma sat up, ran a hand through her riotous curls, and then pulled Killian down for a long, slow kiss. Life was good. Life was really good.

Killian pulled away with a reluctant groan. “I’ll never complain about a good morning greeting like that, my love, but if we continue on in this manner, we’ll never make the city council meeting on time.”

Emma groaned. “You sure we can’t just skip it? It’s New Year’s Eve; I’d much rather just stay here in bed with you.”

“Likewise darling,” Killian said with one more smacking kiss to her lips before he threw back the covers and got to his feet, “but you know neither Regina nor your mother would ever let us get away with that given their New Year, New Town initiative.”

Emma groaned again. “Oh yeah, that. Can’t wait”

About a month ago, just after Thanksgiving, Regina and Snow had called a special town council meeting.

“We’ve been Big Bad free for five years now,” Regain began without preamble, staring down each of the members of the council, “and you’d think that would mean our town would be nearly perfect, by now, but that is not the case. I’ve still had to deal with the same petty squabbles as I’ve always had to, and I think it’s high time we do something about it.”

“Just what kind of squabbles we talking about ‘your majesty’?” Leroy asked, scowling fiercely

“Well, for one thing, I think we would all appreciate it if you’d lay off the threats of a lawsuit everytime someone eats the last of Granny’s bacon before you get there.”

“I have always tried to get as much bacon as I possibly could, and my brothers all know it”, Leroy argued. “They double cross me at the diner counter, they know what to expect.”

Regina rolled her eyes and looked on the point of retorting back, which Snow quickly stepped in.

“The point is not to point fingers at any one person,” she said. “The point is that I think we all have things about ourselves that we could change in order to become the best versions of ourselves.”

“So, Lady Snow, what particularly are you and the queen proposing?” Killian asked.

“As you all well know, the holiday season is just now ramping up, and before you know it, it will be Christmas and then New Years,” Snow explained. “Regina and I were talking over tea one day, and we had a thought. New Years is the time for resolutions. What if we–all of us–the whole town–made new year’s resolutions to make our town a better, friendlier town?”

“We’ll call it the ‘New Year, New Town’ initiative,” Regina said in her typical no nonsense tone. “It will, of course, be compulsory for all residents of Storybrooke.”

There was a general groan among the council as everyone began talking at once. Regina banged her gavel, finally restoring quiet to the council room.

“While I personally don’t think New Year’s resolutions are a bad thing,” Archie said, “I do have questions about how it would work practically, though. Surely you can see that forcing the town to make New Year’s resolutions is a bit heavy-handed, even for you.”

“Not happening, Sister,” Leroy tossed in.

“For once, I have to agree with the dwarf,” Killian tossed in. “No bloody way in Hades you will get the town–or even most on this committee–to go along with such an authoritarian scheme.”

Regina sighed in exasperation. “Listen Captain Guyliner…”

Snow stepped in again before things could further devolve. “Okay, maybe we can’t make it compulsory, but I was thinking, we could have incentives. You know, get pledges from various businesses for prizes for anyone who makes and keeps their resolutions until the end of the year. Make it a fun, citywide competition. That sort of thing.”

After a fair bit more debate, the council finally voted six to five–with Regina, Snow, David, Archie, Whale and Marco voting aye and Zelena, Emma, Killian, Leroy and Granny voting nay–to implement the initiative. Emma had been on the fence about the whole thing, but what finally tipped her to the “nay” side, was Regina’s final decree.

“There is one thing I must insist upon,” Regina said. “If we can’t force the entire town to comply with the initiative, we must at least stand in solidarity in our efforts to encourage full participation. To that end, I move that the initiative be compulsory for the members of the council.”

Another groan around the room.

“What’s stopping everyone from just making self-serving resolutions?” Whale asked.

“Well….” Snow began slowly. “Now just hear me out!”

No statement that started like that could ever end well.

“Regina and I discussed that, and we came up with a plan that we think is fair for everyone,” she said. “We, the council, have a say in each other’s resolutions. Everyone is free to submit resolution ideas for each other, and then on New Year’s Eve, we hold a vote to determine what each person will focus on next year.”

That suggestion got more than a little pushback, but in the end, it was reluctantly adopted.

And so here they were, New Year’s Eve morning, making their way to town hall to decide upon and commit to their resolutions for the coming year.

Emma took a deep, calming breath, as she and Killian took their seats at the council table. Killian took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze offering her his support and strength. She couldn’t care less what the council had decided for her resolution; the whole thing was ridiculous anyway. What did have her nervous and excited and a little freaked out was the plan she and Killian had come up with just before Christmas when they learned the news. Fact was, it was a big deal, a really, really big deal.

Regina, dressed in her customary power suit, banged her gavel against the table to quiet the gathered council and call the meeting to order.

“Okay, as it’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m sure we all have better places to be, let’s go ahead and get to it,” she said.

“Here’s how it will work,” Snow said eagerly. “Everyone will vote on the proposed resolutions via secret ballot. The ballots will be tabulated, and then each one of you will be given an envelope with the list of suggested resolutions the council proposed. The one picked for you will be listed at the top in red.”

“And if we refuse to go along with that one?” Leroy asked, crossing his arms and scowling fiercely.

“We aren’t unreasonable,” Snow said in answer. “If you can’t go along with your top choice, you have the option to choose one of the other selections on your list.”

Voting and tabulation were rather quick affairs, and within fifteen minutes the results were in.

“Just to get you all to stop bitching about this and see that it’s not that big of a deal, I’ll go first,” Regina said, taking her own envelope. Taking her letter opener, she neatly slit the top of the envelope and pulled the single sheet of paper free. Taking a moment to read through it, Regina scoffed. “‘Cut back on snarkiness and insulting nicknames’? Really? I don’t–”

“Oh yes you do, your majesty,” Killian said. “I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve called me some variation of ‘Handless Wonder’ or ‘Captain Guyliner’.”

“Oh, did I hurt your little feelings?” Regina snapped.

“Aaaannd there’s the snark,” Emma commented.

“Fine!” Regina said, “just to prove to all of you that I’m serious about making this initiative work, I’ll accept your stupid resolution.”

With the first resolution reveal out of the way, the rest went rather smoothly. Snow resolved to refrain from revealing secrets (although Emma personally preferred the resolution Killian had submitted for her mom: Call before coming over to your daughter and son-in-law’s house). David resolved to make time for his mates now that his farm was taking up so much of his time. Zelena resolved to cut out envy from her life. Leroy resolved to stop running through the town yelling “terrible news!” about anything less than a full blown emergency. Whale resolved to stop drinking while on duty. Archie resolved to actually get a medical degree not given to him from a curse. Granny resolved to replace the uncomfortable mattresses in her inn. And Marco resolved to take classes to bring his woodworking business into the twenty-first century.

Finally, it was down to just Emma and Killian. The moment of truth.

Emma stood up, and without even looking at what was written on her envelope said, “I resolve to be the best mother I can possibly be and to learn all I can about how to care for a newborn.”

She was met with blank, confused stares as she sat down and Killian rose to make his announcement.

“And I’d like to address my resolution directly to Dave,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Mate, my resolution for next year is to not get your daughter pregnant….again.”

For a moment the blank stares continued until suddenly Snow gasped. “Emma….Killian? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Emma stood, and laced her fingers with Killian’s as her smile bloomed and a tear fell from the corner of her eye. “If you think we’re saying you’re about to be a grandma again, then yes. We found out on Christmas Eve. It finally happened! I’m pregnant!”

Later that night, after the ball dropped and the new year came in amid fireworks and cheers, Emma settled in bed in Killian’s embrace.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asked, holding her to him and nuzzling her neck. “Is the little one causing any distress?”

“At the moment all is well,” Emma said. “Now in the morning when the nausea hits like a ton of bricks I might have a different answer, but for right now, everything feels just about perfect.”

Killian placed his hand on her belly and rubbed gently, his attempt, she knew, to caress their growing child. “Something tells me this new year is going to be our best one yet.”

“Something tells me the same thing, babe,” Emma said.

They fell silent for another moment before Emma broke the silence with a chuckle. “How long do you think it will take for the council to realize we totally blew off their resolutions for us?”

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #new year new town

7 notes · View notes

cssns · 1 year

Text

CSSNS Get to Know Me

Please welcome @iamstartraveller776 to the CSSNS!

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

I've been lurking at the edges of the CS fandom off and on for almost 10 years.

When did you start shipping Captain Swan?

I saw the potential between them when Killian tied a bandage around Emma's hand with his teeth and told her that he's always a gentleman. But it was the kiss in Neverland during the next season that had me buying my ticket aboard the good ol' SS Captain Swan.

What drew you to this event?

I could say that it's because I love good AU's for this ship—the more fantastical, the better—but that's not the reason. I am participating because I adore the community, especially those running this event! They are the reason why I keep limping along with writing for this ship, lol.

What inspired your topic?

A few years ago, I signed up to participate in this event for the first time, but life got in the way. This is the story I was originally planning to write at that time, though it's grown to be much, much bigger than I anticipated back then!

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

Here's a little snippet: Gothel jerked farther back, flinging up a hand as if to ward off danger. “What have you done, Pirate?” she demanded. “You’re a fool if you think he won’t discover you.” Killian curved his lips into a deadly smile. "Is that any of your business, love?" he asked in a quiet voice. "Can you do the spell or do I have to find someone else?" She narrowed her eyes, but there was fear written there as well. “What’s in it for me?” He didn’t answer immediately but reached forward, feeling for that unseen thread that bound the two of them. There. A thin strand of dark energy that he wound around his finger. He balled his hand and yanked. Gothel’s breath tore out of her lungs in a croak as she lurched toward him, skin turning ashen as lines grew like spider webs across her smooth face. “Don’t toy with me, witch,” he bit out in a growl. “I can send you to Infernum with the snap of my fingers.” He tightened his fist and her mouth fell open in a silent scream. Electric vitality pulsed into him from her, demanding to be consumed. There were more witches, weren’t there? Others who could give him what he needed. He could drain this one, add her to the souls who gave him strength, and oh, there was plenty to take from her. The babe in his arms cried out, shattering the feral want that had nearly overtaken him. He released Gothel, and the witch crumpled to the floor in a tangled heap, gasping for air. He despised that craving for power, always hungering, always thirsting for more. But the bleak price was one of many means justified by the end he sought. Gothel looked up at him from her hands and knees, hatred warring with terror in her features as color returned to her skin, the cracks vanishing. He felt no pity for her. She’d known the cost when she made her bargain with him long ago. He turned his attention to the child, rocking her gently while Gothel rose to her feet. “Fortunately for you,” he said, glancing at the witch, “I’m feeling particularly generous at the moment. As a boon for this deed, I won’t call in your debt for, shall we say, another century. I’ll even let you keep your youthful glow.” He smirked. Vanity was one of her greatest weaknesses. She’d thought once to use her beauty against him in a woeful attempt at seducing more power from him, but he hadn’t been so easily swayed. She licked her lips. “Fat lot of good your generosity will do me when he’s figured out what we’ve done.” She made no further argument, though, as she crossed the room to heave a large, careworn tome from a shelf. She set it on the table, spine cracking as she opened it. Muttering under her breath, she leafed through the yellowed pages. Killian circled her home as he waited. The clock was winding down on this bold gambit, and it was only a matter of time before he was summoned by the very creature he hoped to thwart—nay, destroy. The Dark One wanted this child, so much so that he’d put a bounty out on her, something unheard of among the Fata. As Killian studied the babe in his arms, he couldn’t begin to guess why she garnered such single-minded interest from the strongest of the Fates. The soft white aura that surrounded her was dazzling, to be sure—brighter than he’d seen of her kind—but preventing the Saints from adding to their ranks was hardly cause for this feverish hunt. Whatever the reason, it had tipped the Dark One’s hand, and Killian wasn’t going to complain about the opportunity to circumvent the demon.

For our betas: Who/what have you beta'd before, or is this your first time? Feel free to give as much info as you like.

(I can't remember if I signed up to be a beta, but if I did, here's my answer.) I've been beta reading since I joined my first fandom nearly twenty years ago. I love getting a sneak peek at a story before everyone else does! I like to follow the writer's lead on what kind of beta reading they'd like to have from me. <3

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

The stories, of course! And being a little less lurk-y in the community, lol.

This sounds very intriguing. @iamstartraveller776′s fic drops on August 12th!

#GTKM #cssns23 #iamstartraveller776 #gtkm interview

26 notes · View notes

hollyethecurious · 2 years

Text

CS AU: Pan Says... (5/?)

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

A/N: I know, I know, I KNOW! I’m sorry. I’m a bad, bad writer, making y’all wait so long for this update. I truly apologize. My muse took a bit of a sabbatical, but hopefully she’s back and ready to work. I have things pretty well mapped out for this fic from this point on, so fingers crossed I can keep her on task.

Lots of love to @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4 for their exceptional beta skills on this one!

Rated E /Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Part Five

Consciousness returned slowly. The buzz of the fluorescents, the warmth of the blanket, the soft caress of fingers carding through his hair, the scent of his Swan, the dryness of his tongue as it stuck to the roof of his mouth, all points of awareness that were sharpening with clarity as he broke free from the confines of sleep.

“Killian?” Emma whispered, having sensed the change in his breathing. “Killian, are you awake?”

With effort, Killian managed to pry his eyes open and focus on the concerned pinch in his Swan’s brows. Reaching up, he intended to soothe it away with the pad of his thumb, but when he opened his mouth to respond, all that came out was a croaked, “Aye,” before he erupted into a fit of coughs from the cool air hitting the aridness of his throat.

“Hang on,” Emma said, scrambling from their bed so she could fetch him a glass of water. “Drink this.”

Bringing the cup to his lips, Killian took slow sips. Once his thirst was adequately slaked, he handed the cup back to Emma and asked, “What happened?”

A look of distress flashed across her features as she responded, “You don’t… what’s the last thing you remember?”

Rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger, the memories of what had happened before he’d blacked out began to flood his mind. A maelstrom of emotions bombarded him: fear, anger, lust, guilt, terror, euphoria, and relief. His pulse began to race, his heart hammering against his ribs as he reached up and felt for the small puncture wound in his neck, even as his body began to respond to the memory of Emma on her knees in front of him.

“I, um…” His cheeks began to feel warm, and the tips of his ears were practically on fire. “I remember you… you saved me. When Pan had me injected with poison. You…” In an attempt to even his breathing and slow his libido, Killian sucked in a deep breath and sat up further in their bed, only to realize he was still completely naked. Ignoring how that realization spiked his arousal, Killian refocused his thoughts. “I remember them administering the antidote, but everything after that is… how did we get back here?”

Seemingly oblivious to his current turmoil, Emma tucked her legs beneath her and told him, “Whatever they gave you knocked you out pretty fast. One of the Lost Ones helped me get you back to our room.”

Killian sat up from the headboard, his eyes raking over her for signs of harm. “A Lost One? Did he… Did he hurt you? Pan didn’t--”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, reaching out and taking his hand in her own. “He just carried you back, put you in bed, then…”

“Then… what?”

Emma chewed her lip, her eyes cutting towards the camera that monitored them. Scooting towards him, she lowered her voice and shared, “He told me something, and I… I think he knows you. I think he--”

“Knows me?” Killian balked. “What did he say?”

Running her tongue over her lip, Emma flicked her gaze once more to the surveillance, giving Killian a moment to try, once again, to calm his body’s reactions.

“When they took you away,” she began, her voice still low, but tight and halting, “he told me that if I cared for you at all, then I had to do what Pan said. There was something in his eyes. He looked, I don't know… scared. For you. Then, after we got you back here, I confronted him about it, and he said, ‘There are only two reasons people find themselves here. Because they have either crossed Pan, or because they are the punishment for those who did.’ He said our being here is a punishment for someone who crossed Pan.”

“And you think I am that Lost One’s punishment?”

Emma opened her mouth, but was cut off by the crackle of speakers, preempting her reply as Pan’s voice echoed through their room.

“Oh, good! You’re awake. I was afraid you’d sleep the rest of the day away.”

“We wouldn’t want to put a damper on whatever sick or sadistic plan you have in mind for us,” Emma muttered sarcastically, earning her an amused huff from Killian. He was gladdened that she hadn’t lost any of her fire, despite the ordeal they’d both been through.

“Now, now, Emma,” Pan tutted. “I’m here to offer you a reward.”

“A reward?” Killian parroted, dubiously.

“Why, yes!” Pan declared, a little excitedly. “You both took your respective punishments for breaking my rules in stride, so I thought a nice hot shower might be in order.”

Killian met Emma’s gaze. He could see the desire for such a luxury swimming in her eyes, and despite his current state, and the fact he would not be able to keep certain matters hidden from her, he nodded his agreement. Emma left the bed to begin taking off her clothes, and Killian swung himself around so he was seated on the edge of the bed with his back to her, willing his erection to subside.

An exercise in futility, for any progress he might have made was quickly forgotten when she called out to him that she was ready and he had to join her at the door, both of them completely naked. If she noticed his arousal - and honestly, how could she not - she said nothing. Simply took his hand and led them along the line that led to the shower room.

“You go first, love,” he told her, knowing that only one shower actually worked. Grabbing her caddy from the bench, he handed it to her then picked his up and held it in front of him, hiding himself from her view even as he turned around in an attempt to give her some privacy. An action that would also prove futile.

“Oh, one more thing before you begin,” Pan’s voice grated from overhead. “I’m sure you’d like a towel this time, so Emma, in order for you to receive yours, Killian has to watch while you bathe yourself. You won’t mind, will you Killian?”

Grinding his teeth together, Killian peered over his shoulder and willed his gaze to remain fixed on hers. She gave him a small shrug, but he could see in her expression how she didn’t want a repeat of the last time they’d defy Pan’s “offer” to earn towels.

“It isn’t as though you haven’t seen it all before,” she said, clearly trying to justify her willingness to comply while still leaving it up to him. “But I don't need a towel. I can just drip dr--”

“No,” Killian sighed, turning around while keeping his caddy firmly held in front of him. “You’re right. A small price to pay to ensure your comfort.” Even if it robs me of my own, Killian thought to himself as he adjusted his stance.

Though he was tempted to set his focus over Swan’s head and onto the back, tiled wall, Killian knew Pan would not come through with the promised item if he felt Killian had not made good on his end of the deal, so he watched as Emma lathered shampoo into her hair, the suds sliding down her neck and collecting atop her breasts before slipping between and continuing on in their descent down her body.

Shifting his stance again, his buttocks clenched and a groan caught in the back of his throat. Each movement of her hand as it scrubbed the soap filled loofah along her skin brought forth a memory of how she had pleasured herself beneath his gaze earlier that day. His hardened cock bobbed, brushing against the plastic of the caddy he was still clutching at his groin, and Killian felt ridiculous for the way his lust was running away with him. It wasn’t as if she were putting on a show. There was nothing overtly seductive in the way she was showering, but the mere fact she was wet and naked, with suds covering her body while within arms reach, coupled with the memories of her splayed out before him, which were seared into his mind's eye, were enough to have him rigid and weeping by the time she’d finally finished.

“Okay,” Emma said, collecting her items and stepping out from the hot spray. “Your turn.” They quickly switched places, and Emma inquired to the open space around them. “I don’t suppose you’d go ahead and give me that towel so I can dry off while taking my turn to watch, huh?”

“Funny you should mention that,” Pan answered, in that tone that always made Killian’s gut tighten with apprehension. “I think you’ll want to wait for your towel since the only way Killian will be earning his is if… you wash him.”

“Fuck,” Killian muttered under his breath, his groin throbbing at the mere thought of Emma’s touch running over the wet planes of his body.

From behind him, Emma sighed. The splash of her feet against the wet tile preceded her presence, and Killian was hyper aware of how close she stood as she squeezed his shampoo into her hands.

“Wet your hair for me,” she instructed. “ And you might have to crouch down, so I can…”

Killian obeyed and tried to center his focus on anything other than the way the scratch of her nails on his scalp sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. When she told him to turn around so she could begin washing his front, he studied every tile, every faucet, every crack, every water stain within the room so as to try and ignore the feel of the loofah scrubbing him clean. His neck, his chest, his shoulders, his arms, his torso, just to the waist, before she instructed him to turn once more.

His efforts were futile, though. The hot spray beating down on his cock nearly sent him over the edge as she continued her thorough cleansing. His back, his buttocks, the backs of his thighs, his calves, his heels.

“Turn,” Emma said, crouched down at his feet and working her way back up his legs.

He shouldn’t have looked down. He shouldn’t have taken in the sight of her naked, wet, and practically on her knees before him once again. For with the image came the memory of her mouth wrapped around his cock, her tongue teasing his tip, and the way she swallowed around his length. When her hand brushed against his balls he was lost. Unable to keep himself from coming, he grabbed onto his cock and managed to turn away from her; a pained, guttural noise reverberated from his chest from the ruined orgasm she’d inadvertently given him that was spilling over his hand.

“Killian? Are you okay? What’s… oh.”

“Fuck!” he shouted in anger, slamming his hand against the tile wall. Humiliation and shame burned at his cheeks, and when Emma’s hand lightly grazed his shoulder, he bucked it off, turning his body further away from hers. “Don’t,” he clipped out on a huff of breath as a shudder ran through him. “Please, I…”

What the hell was wrong with him?

“I-I’m sorry, love,” he panted. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

“Hey,” she soothed. “It’s okay. Will you… will you please look at me?”

His shoulders slumped as he complied, turning to face her even though he couldn’t yet look her in the eye.

Her hand cupped his cheek and he nuzzled into her touch on instinct, his eyes slipping shut until she said, “Killian, we have no idea what Pan actually gave you earlier.”

His eyes flew open and he jerked back, his mouth agape as he stared at her. That possibility had never crossed his mind.

“I was thinking about it while you were asleep,” she confided. “I know Pan said it was poison and an antidote, but… he could have given you anything. For all we know, he gave you some sort of hyped up aphrodisiac or stimulant for this very purpose.” Stepping forward, she closed the space between them and took his face in her hands once more. “He wants us to suffer. He wants to make things awkward between us. He wants to force us into situations that are humiliating and vulnerable and harmful. None of this is your fault.”

Killian swallowed hard and took in a shuddering breath.

“And just for the record,” she continued on with a soft yet coy smile, “the fact that I turn you on in no way offends me or makes me uncomfortable. You don’t have to hide that fact from me.”

Before Killian could respond, the sound of something being rolled into the room caught both their attention. A cart, ladened with towels, had been pushed through the door. Emma grabbed Killian’s hand, prompting him forward so they could grab the towels before they might be whisked away again, but he resisted.

“Hang on,” he said, a fresh blush coloring his cheeks. “Let me just… clean up first.”

“Right.” Gesturing towards the cart, she said. “I’ll just grab us both some towels.”

Killian quickly rinsed away the remnants of his orgasm, giving himself a few extra moments to simply stand in the calming waters of the shower, allowing his heart rate and breathing to normalize before joining Swan by the towel cart.

“Here,” she said, handing him two towels. “I wasn’t sure how many you’d want.”

An amused sound fell from his lips as he wrapped a towel around his waist before draping the other over his shoulders. Swan was currently swathed from head to toe in three towels, with a fourth clutched against her chest. Clearly she was taking no chances of being left cold and wet like last time.

They were both relieved to find that, unlike last time, everything was exactly as they’d left it when they returned to their cell room. Once they’d finished drying off and getting dressed, another surprise was in store for them.

A meal. An unprompted and unearned meal. A tray of their favorite foods appeared behind the food panel without any warning or strings attached. Or so they hoped.

“Tell me more about what the Lost One said.” They had been quietly consuming their meal for several long minutes before the silence had begun to further unnerve him. A wry smile rose at the corner of Emma’s lip prompting Killian to ask, “What?”

“I’d tried to bring up this topic in the shower, but you appeared to have other things on your mind.”

“You did?”

Emma nodded, an amused expression set on her face as she took another bite of her grilled cheese sandwich. “Mhmm,” she hummed, waiting until she’d finished the bite before adding, “I asked if you had any ideas as to who the Lost One might be, but you were too… focused on the task Pan had set that I don’t think you even heard me.”

Pawing at the patch of skin behind his ear that always seemed to flare up when something embarrassed him, Killian mumbled a half-hearted apology, knowing her teasing tone and the mischievous glint in her eye were in an effort to keep the subject light-hearted.

“Yes, well,” he said, popping a grape into his mouth, “Any task of Pan’s worth doing…”

He left the statement unfinished, allowing it to hang between them for a moment before turning serious once more.

“Honestly, I haven’t a clue who it could be,” he confessed. “I can’t imagine my being here would be a punishment to anyone in my life other than Liam, and neither of those men is my brother.”

“You’re sure?”

“Aye,” he stated with confidence. “Liam is broader, more solidly built, and besides,” he took in a deep breath, calming himself as the memory of the last time he’d heard his brother’s voice filled his mind. “We heard that voicemail. He thinks I’m on some sort of trip, and the thought of it obviously gave him comfort. Plus, I can’t really see Liam getting involved with someone like Pan. He’s too… noble and self-righteous.”

Emma snorted at Killian’s exasperated tone. “Sounds a little like David.”

“Speaking of David,” Killian hedged, picking at the remains of his meal. “Any chance he might be--”

Emma cut him off with a shake of her head. “Neither of them are David, but…”

“But… what?”

She chewed her lip for a moment, guilt pinching her features as she whispered, “I have wondered if my disappearance and presumed death isn’t some sort of punishment for him or Mary Margaret, but honestly… like you with Liam, I can’t imagine either of them getting caught up in some sideways deal with the likes of Pan. And I have no idea who I would be a punishment for, besides the Nolans.”

Killian scratched his fingers through the scruff at his jaw. “I suppose we’ll have to wait for an opportunity to ask them outright.”

“Yeah…” Emma hedged, collecting their tray of finished dishes and depositing it back on the exposed shelf. “That’s if Pan hasn’t done something to them in retaliation for talking to me about it.”

As if on cue, the speakers overhead crackled, signaling the impending voice of their captor.

“I take it you both enjoyed your shower and dinner?”

Neither of them answered, seeing as Pan’s questions were generally rhetorical. However, it seemed he’d hoped for some sort of response this time.

“Come now,” he pouted. “No thanks or show of gratitude for my generosity today? Might I remind you that I required nothing of you in exchange for both the showers and the meal? Not to mention my leniency regarding the towels… considering Emma never finished completely washing you, Killian.”

Mutters of ‘thanks’ begrudgingly fell from their lips, followed by startled gasps as the room was suddenly plunged into darkness.

“Perhaps a good night’s sleep will help you both gain some perspective on my indulgences, because rest assured… tomorrow our game will be back in full swing. Round three awaits you both.”

“Goody,” Emma grumbled, climbing into bed and settling herself beneath the covers. “Are you going to be able to sleep?” she asked, propping herself up onto her side, facing him. “You were out for a while after… whatever they gave you earlier.”

“Aye,” Killian replied, laying down beside her with his eyes trained at the ceiling. His mind, however, was not on sleep.

“Tell me,” Emma said, softly, sensing that something was troubling him.

It took Killian a few long moments before deciding to share his burden with her. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure her, or endanger either of them in any way at the prospect of breaking Pan’s rules, but the more he thought about it…

“I don’t want our first time to be forced,” he whispered. “Or coerced.” Swallowing thickly, he murmured, “I don’t want to fuck you because Pan tells me to, I want…”

“What?” she said on a husky breath. “What do you want?”

Turning his head, he locked eyes with her, fighting against the desperation to reach out and hold her as he declared, “I want to make love to you. I want you on our terms, not his. I want to have you because you want me too, not so we can endure this hell a little longer. I want to think back on my time with you and have something pure, something untainted to remember. Something I can hold onto with happiness.”

Tentatively, she reached out and brushed her fingers through his hair. “So do I.”

Air whooshed from his lungs. He wanted nothing more than to close the gap between them, take her in his arms, and kiss the breath out of her, but… “It’s risky,” he reminded her. “I shudder to think what Pan might do. I know I’m willing to face whatever punishment he might have in store for me, but the thought of him hurting you--”

Emma stopped his words with the press of her fingers against his lips, and held them there as she repositioned herself, straddling his waist. “You’re worth the risk.” Pulling him up by the collar of his shirt, she fused her mouth to his, but not before demanding, “Fuck Pan, and make love to me, Killian.”

(Yeah, I know... feel free to yell at me in the reblog/comments 😁)

Part Six

#cs ff #csff #cs fic #cs au #captain swan #pan says...#words by hollye

87 notes · View notes