#CS AU fanfic
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Witchy Woman (9/10)
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LOOK AT THIS STUNNING ARTWORK BY @cocohook38
Summary: When Emma came into her position as Storybrooke Coven Leader, she ended things with the powerful Vampire Overlord, Killian Jones. She’s spent over a decade working alongside him and ignoring the growing tension between them.
During his best mate’s wedding, Killian decides he is done waiting. He is ready to have his mate back in his arms (and bed) again. Emma is not an easy woman to woo, but Killian has never backed down from a challenge.
When Emma’s jilted ex-boyfriend returns to town and Emma goes missing, Killian will stop at nothing to get her back and ensure that nothing can ever separate them again.
Rating: E
CW: Mention of domestic abuse, blood and blood drinking (vampires), threatening situations, minor violence, death, mention of parental death
Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)
Tag: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert (let me know if you want to be added or dropped)
Killian woke up with Emma on his chest and the blankets wrapped tightly around them. Emma had built her cocoon around them both sometime in the night. Her sea-coloured eyes were already on his and she wore a contented smile while she twirled her finger in the patch of hair on his chest.
“What a lovely sight to see upon waking, Swan.”
“I've been admiring the view myself,” she said before placing a chaste kiss on his chest.
He ran his hand along her side, squeezing her tight to him as he did so. Her soft skin pressed against his beneath the blankets. Everything was perfect. These moments were becoming more frequent - they were no less precious in their frequency. With these once fleeting moments of warmth, contentedness, and connection becoming commonplace between them, their relationship felt more real, more substantial, than it had before. She wasn’t going to vanish from his grasp between one second and the next.
“I need to get up and shower and help Anna with the beach party preparations and…” Killian interrupted her task list with a sweet kiss.
“Let’s start with the shower - that is something I can help you with.”
“Okay, yeah.” Emma shifted off him to the en suite. “But after coffee, I have to go.”
“Hmm, that is a while from now,” Killian answered as he followed her into the bathroom to run the water for them. He tugged her into his shower and water engulfed them from all sides. He chuckled at the deep groan that she released when the side jet nearest to her hit her lower back. He kneaded his hand and his blunted arm into her lower back muscles, enjoying the sounds of her sighs and moans when he hit upon a particularly sore spot.
“I’m never going to leave if you keep this up.”
“That’s the plan, love.” Killian smiled cheekily at her as she turned to hug him in the warm water.
“This is nice.”
“Aye, that it is.”
“I like waking up with you,” Emma admitted softly. Killian broke their embrace to lather soap on them both.
“Should you move in with me, we would never need to wake up any other way.” Killian hadn’t intended to ask her, but he did not regret it. He wanted her to be the first thing that he saw every morning, the blanket thief in his bed each night, the clothing left strewn about the immaculate house, the other coffee cup on the counter top, and all the thousands of tiny things that are involved in sharing a life together.
“Hmm. You want me to move in with you so that we can always wake up together?”
“Aye. That’s one reason.” He answered after they rinsed off the soap.
“Not the only one?”
“There are so many reasons that I want to share a home with you, Emma. Move in with me and let me show them to you?”
The water seemed to roar more loudly in the quiet that followed. Time slowed in that cruel way it does when the next second will irrevocably impact your life. Perhaps, it is meant to help you prepare in case the ensuing second arrives ready to break you beyond repair. Maybe it is less malicious than that, a moment stretched out so that you know to pay attention and be fully present because what happens next matters.
Killian intently watched as thoughts and emotions flickered wildly behind Emma’s eyes, as she drew in a breath to answer, as she formed the words that propelled time suddenly forward.
“You do have a kitchen full of my favourite snacks,” Emma smiled excitedly up at him. His heart was cliche as it soared with joy.
“Aye, and these plush towels you love so much,” he said, wrapping her in a towel as they stepped out of the shower.
“And, that insanely large and comfortable bed.”
“Aye, and coffee,” he offered, “with cinnamon.”
“All with the vampire that I love.”
“All for the witch that I love.”
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The connection that they’d forged between them last night felt like a thread pulling and guiding them together. It was a bit strange at first - when she left to catch up with Anna, it had felt like a rubber band angry with being stretched to its limit. But, it quickly became a comfort, especially, after all the time they’d spent apart.
As he went about his day, checking security for the beach party and of the town, he grew accustomed to the gentle nudge at his chest urging him ever closer to her. At times, he was sure he could detect echoes of emotion that belonged to his witch.
There was also a new awareness of the strands of magic flowing around him and through him that he knew meant he’d absorbed some of her powers. He was a magical creature, his magic was an essential part of his being and ruled him, but her powers gave her control over magic. He wanted to explore this with her further, to ensure he could use her gifts without a cost to her and to experience the world as she did. Plus, he thought up some positions and games for them to try once he learned how her telekinesis worked.
He was completing a final check of the security plan for tomorrow’s event before heading to the beach party when he received an email from Smee reporting a new possible security risk.
“Bloody,” Killian cursed as he opened the missive. He couldn’t afford to overlook any potential situation just because he was anxious to get to the beach.
He skimmed the report - a non-issue. But, he’d been delayed far longer than he wished. He shut down his computer and cleaned off his desk when the echoes of emotion that had accompanied him through the bond all day fell silent.
His heart pounded as he pulled out his phone and called David. He was travelling at the height of his vampiric speed, the beach almost in view, as he listened to the phone ringing out.
The band was playing and the party was in full swing when he reached the shoreline. The tether to Emma tugged him away from the party. Fear that didn’t belong to him crawled up his spine - Emma.
“Hey, it’s David. Leave a message.”
Killian cursed, waiting for the beep. “Something has happened to Emma. I am tracking her and sharing my location with you. When you get this, find me. See you soon, mate.”
He followed that wonderful tug toward the abandoned mines. When he reached the entrance, he caught her scent mixed with another he knew well. Smee?
As if in answer to his question, Smee emerged from the dark.
“Sire?”
“Mr Smee,” Killian acknowledged. “Why aren’t you at your post?”
“I got a call about some werewolves causing trouble nearby. I came to check it out.”
Liar. The thought came from the magic swirling around him - Emma’s lie detector was more literal than he ever considered. The betrayal stung for a moment. The way his scent was so intermingled with Emma’s suggested that Smee was a part of what was happening with Emma. He wanted to demand answers, to hurt Smee the way Emma’s fear was hurting him, but he had to get to her. He didn’t want to waste time on Smee’s games.
He smiled at Smee, all teeth and predator. Smee had a moment to process the threat before Killian rushed him and tore his head from his shoulders in one quick movement. He left the body and head at the mouth of the shaft and entered the mine.
He could feel the anger radiating from her through the thread that connected them now. Anger meant she would find a way to fight, that would buy him time to reach her.
As he raced deeper into the mine, Killian’s chest started to burn as if it were being set on fire. What the fuck is happening?
He set his teeth against the crippling pain and pressed on. He encountered a few weak werewolves blocking his progress. A wave of his hand sent them into the rock wall, knocking them out, and clearing the way forward.
Screaming bounced around the dark walls around him and the scent of Emma’s blood was thick in the air. A growl tore through him as rage, red and hot, overtook him. He stormed forward, entering a cavern lined with sigils and one large stone slab where Emma was restrained and screaming as she battled a force he could not see.
Regina and Neal stood in the space, watching the brutal scene unfold before them. Regina’s mouth was moving quickly, chanting the spell that was attacking Emma. Neal turned to face him with a broad smile on his face. “She’s going to be mine, now,” Neal gloated in way of greeting.
Killian flung him against a wall to be dealt with later and turned his attention to the witch harming his mate. He darted toward her. She raised an arm, suspending him in mid-stride. Her chanting continued as she held him with little effort. He fought against Regina’s magic with all his strength but failed to overpower her magic, failed to stop Emma’s suffering.
Regina smiled.
Now would be a fantastic time to arrive, David.
Killian stopped fighting against Regina’s power. It wrapped around him and held him in place. A witch’s magic would always be more powerful than the raw strength of either a vampire or a werewolf. It was how the gods kept the balance between the creatures. He just needed to figure out some other way to best her.
An itch in his fingers alerted him of a change in the magic restraining him. It was gathering at his fingertips, aligning with the magic at his call, no longer holding him in place but awaiting his commands.
He snarled forcing the magic back into Regina. It halted her chanting before tearing her into pieces from the inside out. A pile of purple dust gathered where the villainess had just stood. “Bloody hell.” Emma’s magic was a truly terrifying and wonderful thing.
Turning to the slab, he waved away her restraints and pulled her into his arms. She was unconscious as he turned to take her out of this hell. But she was safe, now. He gripped her tight to him, the relief of her heart beating against his chest almost brought him to his knees.
“I think I hear something in this direction.”
“David, my magic says they are this way.” Mary Margaret’s voice rang out through the tunnels.
“Mary Margaret. David. We’re here.” Killian called, his voice breaking with emotion. She’s safe, now. She will be okay.
§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§
For every day that Emma did not wake, Killian carved a reminder into Neal’s flesh. For every time she called out Killian’s name during her endless slumber, he would break a bone, heal it, and break it again. The hisses and cries of her tormentor did very little to ease his anger, but even a drop of water is worth collecting if you’re dying of thirst.
He entered the cell holding Neal, for now, ready to claim his flesh as the seventh day passed without any change. They had healed her with his venom, the bones in her hand knitted together days ago, her body was healthy but her mind was still out of reach. He felt like he was slowly losing parts of himself every day she stayed in this state. Perhaps, it was why he was enjoying taking parts from Neal so much.
Neal looked up as Killian entered, the fear behind his eyes dulled from the day before, and his posture seemed resigned but no longer hopeless. A dark feeling crept through Killian, his jaw clenching against it.
“How’s Ems?”
“You don’t get to ask.” Killian shut the door behind him, the lock engaging automatically behind him with a quiet click. “I do apologise, Neal, for you seem to have mistaken yourself for a guest in my home. Or a plaything that I intend to keep around for some time.”
Neal’s eyes widened and the sharp acidic scent of fear filled the air as it dawned on him that tonight was going to be different than the previous six. Killian’s smirk was all hungry predator toying with his prey. “I assure you that I intend to rectify those misconceptions most thoroughly before I leave tonight. I am afraid that does mean that you won’t live to see tomorrow, mate.”
Killian smiled when Neal rallied his courage to make a last stand against him. He was hungry for a fight. Neal attacked first, lunging for Killian with his fangs extended as if they would pose any threat to Killian. Killian laughed without humour knocking the weaker vampire to the ground. He put his boot against Neal’s arm, pinning him to the floor.
“She will never forgive you for killing me.” Neal spit out. Killian increased the pressure on Neal’s arm until a satisfying crack split the air. Neal grunted in pain, tears leaking from his eyes.
“She doesn’t like you nearly as much as you’ve told yourself,” Killian said smoothly.
“She’ll leave you. That’s what she does.” Neal’s voice was between a whimper and a whine, a pathetic sound befitting the creature he was.
A light knock at the door prevented Killian from responding. Killian’s heart squeezed in his chest, he knew what that knock meant.
“Goodbye, Neal.” Killian dug his hook into Neal’s chest piercing his black heart. Neal pulled in one last wheezing breath before Killian grabbed a fistful of his hair. “I can’t say you’ll be missed,” Killian growled as he pulled.
Killian kicked the heap of Neal’s body before turning on his heel and leaving the cell. David stood outside of the door. He nodded slightly to Killian, a small smile tugging at this lips, as Killian emerged from the room. Pulse racing, Killian turned to the guard he’d posted at the door, “Will, dispose of the tosser and ensure he is properly turned to ash.”
“Yes, sire.”
“Good man.” Killian made his way back to his room in the best spirits he’d been in all week.
Emma was waking.
#cssns23#vampire!Killian#witch!Emma#Emma x Killian#Emma Swan#Killian Jones#Captain Swan#CS AU fanfic#CS modern AU fanfic#OUAT AU fanfic#inspired by Stay A Spell#ouat captain hook#killian x emma#cs fanfic#once upon a time#ouat#cs ff#art by cocohook38
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Pet for Rent, Chapter 1/4 (The Meet Cute) A CS Modern AU Story
For those of you who read "Sowing Seeds of Trust", you might remember that my dog Zeke had a starring role in it. To my great heartbreak, he died of cancer last June. When we rescued him, the shelter had named him Ernie, and he will be referenced with that name in this story.
Life without a dog proved to be very lonely, so at the end of August, we rescued another dog. The sad story of the dog in this story is what really happened to our new dog. He was named Norman and we renamed him Winston, just like in the story. That's actually him in the pic set with his 'ducky'.
This was supposed to be a short, sweet story, but somehow turned into 4 chapters. Updates will be once a week.
Special thanks to my beta @hookedmom and also to @beckettj and @zaharadessert for helping me understand the football (soccer) system in England.
SUMMARY: Emma Swan tries to cheer up her heartbroken son by 'renting' a dog from the local animal shelter. When she attempts to do it a second time, she makes a mistake, and realizes the dog has been rented by someone else the same day - a very handsome man named Killian Jones.
RATING: M (for smut in the last chapter, which can easily be skipped if that's not your thing)
WORDS: 7754
ALSO POSTED TO A03 & FFN
Story begins under the cut
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Emma Swan flopped down onto her sofa with a sigh. Since their beloved dog Ernie died three weeks ago, she had come to dread her eight-year-old son Henry’s bedtime. Every night when he said his prayers, he ended with, “God, please tell Ernie I love him and miss him, and please send me another dog. Amen.”
Her son knew the chances of getting a dog were slim to none because of his soccer practices and games, and Emma’s schedule for her new job at the sheriff’s station. They had no time to train a puppy.
Understanding why he couldn’t have a dog didn’t make his heart hurt any less. Her heart was just as broken, knowing the sadness and loneliness Henry was experiencing.
After decompressing for a few minutes, Emma’s searching hand located her phone on the end table. She unlocked it and opened her Discord app, selecting the icon representing the parents’ group of Henry’s second grade class. Sitting up a little straighter, she typed a message: Does anyone have ideas of how to help Henry get over the loss of his dog? He keeps praying for a new one, but it wouldn’t be fair to the dog to get one with our busy schedule.
She watched the screen intently for a couple of minutes, but when no names appeared to show that someone was answering, she tossed the phone onto the couch and went into the kitchen to load the dishwasher.
Forty minutes later, after cleaning up the kitchen, going through her nightly routine and changing into her pajamas, she went back into the living room. Television held no interest for her, and realizing she finished her last library book the previous evening, she picked up her phone to mindlessly play a game. Upon unlocking it, her screen opened to the Discord page and she saw three replies to her question.
The first two simply expressed sympathy for the loss of Ernie, but the third one offered a helpful suggestion. Have you thought about ‘renting’ a dog for a day? The animal shelter just outside of town offers that option. We did it for my mother when her Maltese died. The post ended with the web address for the shelter.
Emma immediately pulled up the site and, after searching the homepage, clicked on the tab for ‘services’. Scrolling down the list, she saw ‘Rent-a-Pet’ and selected it. As she read the description of how the program worked, she idly twisted strands of blonde hair around her index finger.
It sounded like a great compromise for their situation. For a donation to the shelter in the form of money, bags of pet food, treats or toys, one of the available animals could come home with them for several hours. The dogs and cats were guaranteed to be docile and house-trained, and could be adopted by the ‘renter’, if desired.
Clicking on the link taking her to the bios of the pets currently housed at the shelter, she filtered it to include only canines. Pictures of nearly two dozen dogs filled the screen, each more adorable and aww-worthy than the last.
Quickly ruling out any that were guaranteed to shed fur all over her house or were bigger than her son, her search was narrowed to nine prospects. She knew her rambunctious son would be keen to play outside with the dog and walk him or her to Storybrooke’s dog park, so a tiny fru-fru pup was out of the question, too. That left six.
She selected one at a time, reading about their breed and temperament. When she brought up the picture of the fourth candidate, the big, chocolate brown eyes and happy expression nearly made her heart melt.
‘Norman’ was a mixed breed and very little was known about him, because he was found tied to a stop sign in the middle of Portland, Maine. He was guessed to be a cocker spaniel mix and was approximately 1-2 years old. His black fur looked sleek and Emma knew he probably wouldn’t shed. A short video showed him romping and playing with another dog in the fenced play yard of the shelter.
Saving the page, she brought up the calendar on her phone and checked their schedule for the rest of the week. Henry had an early soccer game on Saturday, which would be over by 10:30, leaving the rest of the morning and afternoon free. Switching back to the shelter website, she hit the ‘Rent-a-Pet’ button again and began filling in the information, selecting ‘Norman’ when it gave her the choice of animals.
She decided not to tell Henry about the plan, opting to surprise him with it instead.
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“Great game, kid,” Emma complimented her son, ruffling his sweaty hair. “Your pass to Avery was a nice assist. That goal turned out to be the game winner.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Henry grinned around his mouthful of granola bar. “That’s the first time all season we beat the orange team.”
“I know, and I think that calls for a celebration, don’t you?” Emma fished her car keys out of her jeans pocket, before picking up her lawn chair and water bottle.
“Are we gonna get ice cream?” he asked, before cramming the rest of his snack into his mouth.
“You just ate a granola bar and a banana, and lunch will be in just an hour or so,” she laughed. “I have something else in mind.”
“Whaisit?” he queried, the unswallowed food muffling his voice.
“Well, I know how much you miss Ernie, and Violet’s mom told me about a program at the animal shelter that lets you rent a pet for a few hours,” she answered slowly, watching his reaction out of the corner of her eye. “So, I signed up to get a dog for you to play with until three o’clock this afternoon.”
Henry stopped in his tracks, swallowing down the rest of his snack as his eyes grew wide. “Really? You can do that?”
“Yeah, we’re scheduled to pick him up at eleven. What do you think about that?”
His exuberant shout of joy and sprint to the car was all the answer she needed.
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Emma couldn’t keep up with her son once he unstrapped his safety belt, exited the car and bounded toward the front door of the shelter. He was already ringing the little bell on the counter for service before she made it inside and chided him lightly for not waiting for her.
A tall, broad-shouldered man with sandy hair and light blue eyes entered through a door, the barking of dogs stifled when it clicked shut behind him. He gave them a dazzling smile and greeted them warmly with a hearty ‘good morning’.
Emma reached forward to shake his hand. “Hi, I’m Emma Swan and this is my son, Henry.”
“David Nolan,” he responded, shaking her hand, then doing the same with Henry.
“My teacher’s name is Mrs. Nolan, the same as yours,” the boy told him.
“You wouldn’t happen to be in second grade at Storybrooke Elementary, would you?” David asked.
“Yeah,” Henry confirmed.
“Ah, well, that means your teacher is my wife!”
“Wow, cool!” Henry exclaimed. “She’s the best teacher I ever had!”
David’s grin grew even wider. “That’s good to hear. She tells me all about her students every evening and she thinks yours is the best class she’s ever had!”
“It’s quite a coincidence, meeting you here,” Emma commented with a smile.
“I’ll be sure to tell Mary Margaret I met the two of you. Now, what can I do for you today?”
Emma pulled her phone out of her purse, unlocked it, and tapped on the screen a few times. Then she laid it on the counter and turned it to show David. “I signed up for the Rent-a-Pet program. Here’s the email with my confirmation.”
David peered down at the screen and used his finger to scroll down a bit. “I see you chose Norman,” he commented, looking up at her.
“Um, yeah. Is he a good dog? I don’t want any messes in my house or car.”
“He’s a great dog,” he assured her, reaching back to the wall behind him to lift a leash off of a hook. “Gets along well with other dogs, seems to love kids, and is generally a very happy little guy.”
Henry bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Can we take him to the dog park? Ernie always loved going to the dog park.” His countenance dropped, a small cloud of sadness passing across his features.
David shared an understanding look with Emma. “Of course you can take him. I’m sure he will love it! Would you like to come back with me to get him?”
The boy turned to look at his mother. “Can I?”
“Sure, kid. I think I’ll come back, too, if Mr. Nolan doesn’t mind.”
“The more, the merrier,” David said cheerfully.
He waited until they joined him on the other side of the counter, then opened the door to the large room full of animal cages. Immediately, the sound of barking, howling and meows filled their ears.
“They get very excited when they know someone is coming back here. I think the animals closest to the door are spies and tell the others,” David joked, raising his voice to be heard over the din.
Emma walked behind Henry, watching him turn his head left and right to peer at the occupants of all of the pens.
“Aw, Mom, look at that little puppy! He’s so cute! Aw, that dog seems sad. I bet he doesn’t like being in a cage. Look Mom, they have cats here, too.” His litany was continuous as they slowly walked down the aisle between the enclosures.
Finally, David stopped in front of a pen and turned to them, gesturing toward the dog inside. “This is Norman. He has a sad story, but he’s kept his sweet temperament, haven’t you, boy?”
As if in answer, the black dog stood up, his tail starting to wag as he realized the man was talking about him. Henry dropped to his knees in front of the cage, placing his hands against the wire. “Hi, Norman! My name is Henry. Would you like to come home with us for a little while?” The dog’s tail was wagging so fast, his entire body wiggled. “I think he understands me, Mom!” Henry said excitedly.
As David slipped inside the pen to clip the leash to Norman’s collar, Emma asked, “Has he ever been rented before?”
“Several times,” David answered, straightening up once he had the leash attached. “He’s always done really well.” Opening the door of the kennel again, he allowed the dog to go ahead of him, out to where the boy still knelt.
“Hi, boy,” Henry crooned, running his hands over the dog’s head.
Emma bent down and stroked the sleek fur on Norman’s back and sides. “He’s so soft,” she commented.
“He appears to have the coat of a cocker spaniel,” David said, “but he’s definitely a mixed breed.” He watched the boy and dog interact for a few seconds before holding out the looped end of the leash. “Would you like to lead him out to the lobby, Henry?”
He looked up at Emma with hopeful eyes. “Is that okay, Mom?”
“How is he on a leash?” she asked David. “He won’t pull my kid’s arm out of the socket, will he?”
David laughed. “He does fairly well, but if he gets excited, he can get pretty rambunctious. He’ll be fine just going to the lobby, but you might have to walk him out to your car instead of Henry.”
“Sounds like a deal, kid,” she said, giving him a nod of approval.
Henry eagerly accepted the leash and started off down the aisle. “Come on, Norman. Come on, boy. You’re gonna like it at our house. We still have some of Ernie’s toys and balls.”
Emma and David trailed behind. “How long ago did you lose your dog?” he asked.
“Almost a month and Henry is really struggling with it. He and Ernie were best buds.”
“I’m sorry. That’s rough, especially for a kid.”
“And his mom,” Emma added. “I never realized how much I loved that dog, until he got sick and I knew we were going to lose him.”
“Hopefully, Norman will give you both a few hours of enjoyment and help ease the heartache a bit,” David said, before hurrying forward to pull the door open for Henry and the dog.
While David printed off the paperwork, Norman sniffed around Henry, who sat cross-legged on the floor, giggling when the dog licked his ears. “Ernie used to do that too, remember, Mom?”
Emma smiled down at him. “Yeah, you must have very tasty ears. Maybe you should start washing them better.”
“I won’t need to, after Norman washes them!”
She turned back to finish signing the papers. “It’s nice to hear him laughing again. He hasn’t done much of that lately,” she confided to David.
“I think this will be good for both of you and Norman. He really likes being around people. I’m very surprised he hasn’t been adopted yet.”
“Do you think there’s a reason for that?”
David shrugged. “This tends to be a slow time of the year for adoptions. Summer is over and school is back in session, so people don’t have as much time to welcome a new dog into their house.”
“That’s the boat we’re in right now,” Emma commented.
“Once it gets closer to Christmas, people will come in looking for pets to give as gifts. That’s good, but also bad, because about a quarter of them are brought back when they realize a pet is more work than they anticipated.”
“We got Ernie from the shelter when Henry was two. He was already five years old, house-trained and had all of the annoying puppy behaviors out of his system.”
“Most people want puppies instead of adult dogs, but there are a lot of advantages to getting an older dog.”
“Norman doesn’t seem to be very old.”
“I’d say at least two, but he’s pretty chill. Once he runs out of energy, he becomes a couch potato.” David collected the paperwork and tapped it on the counter to straighten it. “Well, that’s all I need from you. Norman is yours until three o’clock.”
“Yay!” Henry shouted, causing the dog to start barking.
Emma reached down to take the leash. “Don’t get him all riled up right before we put him in the car, kid.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Henry apologized. “I just can’t wait to get him home! Can he sit in the back with me?”
“Sure, but first you need to thank Mr. Nolan.”
Henry popped up from the floor and looked back at David. “Thanks, Mr. Nolan! I’ll take good care of Norman, I promise!”
“My pleasure, Henry. Have fun!” David grinned.
Mother and son exited the building, with Norman leading the way, tugging excitedly on the leash. “Slow down, pup,” Emma laughed.
Henry ran ahead to open the door of the yellow Volkswagen Beetle, sliding the front seat forward and clambering into the back. As soon as Norman reached the car, he hopped in and sat on the seat beside Henry like he’d done it every day of his life.
“Well, that was easy,” Emma commented, removing the loop of the leash from her wrist and tossing it beside the dog. After closing the door, she circled around behind the car to get into the driver’s seat. She looked into the rearview mirror and choked up at the sight meeting her eyes. Henry had his arms wrapped around Norman’s neck with his eyes closed and his head resting against the dog’s.
Emma was sure the time with Norman was going to be good for both boy and dog, but she couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when it came time to bring him back to the shelter.
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Emma was barely able to get Henry to eat when they got home, and had to reprimand him for sneaking Norman bits of his sandwich. The dog, for his part, sat politely while they ate, not begging or whining. She was impressed with his behavior, remembering how she had to break Ernie from begging at the table when they first adopted him.
Henry and Norman bonded quickly as they chased each other around the small backyard, playing with a tennis ball and squeaky toys from Ernie’s toy basket. Emma sat on their small patio, thoroughly enjoying the sounds of happy barking and her son’s laughter. She pulled out her phone and took a picture, posting it to the Discord group and tagging Violet’s mom to thank her for the idea of renting a pet.
Just after two o’clock, Emma suggested taking Norman to the dog park before going back to the shelter. They played there for forty minutes, then the three of them returned home and piled back into the car. Once again, she caught sight in the mirror of her son hugging the dog and sighed, but instead of dreading Norman’s return, she decided to enjoy every minute of happiness it was bringing to Henry…and herself.
Their time with the dog was over all too soon. After Emma parked the car at the shelter, Henry got out of the car and trudged to the door with the leash gripped tightly in his hand. Norman seemed to sense the boy’s mood and walked slowly beside him, his head hanging low.
David was at the desk to greet them again, an understanding look at his face at the dejected look of all three of them. “Was he good for you?” he asked.
“He was great,” Emma answered, rubbing her hand soothingly over her son’s back. “Wasn’t he, kid?”
“Yeah,” Henry quietly agreed, his eyes trained on the floor.
“You know, you’re welcome to rent Norman, or any of our other dogs, anytime you want,” David said.
Henry looked up. “But what if someone adopts him?”
“Well, that would be a good thing for Norman,” Emma reminded him.
“I guess,” Henry sighed. He knelt down beside the dog, wrapping him up in another hug. “I’ll miss you, boy, but maybe I’ll see you again.” The dog licked his cheek, eliciting a small giggle. Then Henry stood and held the leash out to David. “Thank you, Mr. Nolan. I had a lot of fun with Norman.”
“I’m happy to hear it,” David said, accepting the leash and moving around the counter. Patting the dog on the head, he added, “I hope we’ll see you again, soon.”
Henry turned pleading eyes to his mother. “Can we do it again next weekend, Mom?”
“You have Avery’s birthday party next Saturday, remember?”
“Oh, yeah,” Henry nodded, then bit his lip in contemplation. “The next weekend, then?”
Emma laughed. “We’ll see.” She leaned down to pet the dog’s head. “Be a good boy, Norman. You’re welcome at our house anytime.”
After saying their goodbyes, they watched David take the dog toward the door leading to the back. Norman turned and gave them a sad look before following the shelter worker through it, tearing at Emma’s heart even more.
She swallowed hard and said, “Come on, kid. Let’s go home.”
🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾
The sadness soon wore off and for the next several days, Henry talked almost incessantly about all of the fun he had with Norman. Emma checked their schedule and saw that Henry had another early game three weeks later, which would be the last game of the soccer season. She relayed that news to Henry, asking him if he wanted to rent Norman again that day, and was answered with a very enthusiastic ‘YES!’
She nearly forgot to make the reservation, only remembering three days before, while waiting to pick Henry up from practice. Quickly, she pulled up the website and filled out the form, glancing up often to see if Henry was coming off the field because she always liked to meet him as soon as he did, instead of waiting for him in the car.
Emma was especially glad they decided to rent Norman Saturday, since Henry’s soccer team lost their final game by one goal. His downcast look was soon replaced with excitement when she reminded him that they would be going to the shelter.
When they arrived, he bounded out of the car and waited impatiently for his mom to join him, before practically sprinting to the door. It took a couple of minutes before David emerged from the back, beaming a smile when he saw them waiting at the counter.
“Henry! Emma! I’m very happy to see you again!”
“We’re here to get Norman,” Henry said excitedly.
A puzzled look crossed David’s face. “I’m sorry, but Norman is already being rented by somebody else today,” he informed them.
“What?” Henry asked, a slight tremor in his voice. Then he turned to Emma. “But Mom, you said we would be getting Norman.”
Emma was already pulling the email up on her phone. “There must be some mistake, Mr. Nolan. I reserved Norman when I filled out the form. See?”
She turned her phone for the worker to see it. David looked at it carefully, then pointed to the screen. “It looks like you didn’t ask for a specific dog.”
“I didn’t?” she questioned, then looked at her phone more closely, her heart dropping when she saw the blank space beside the ‘requested animal’ inquiry. “Oh, Henry. I’m so sorry. I was in a hurry when I filled it out and I must have missed that question.”
“We have several other dogs,” David consoled. “I’m sure you’ll have just as much fun with one of them.”
“No I won’t,” Henry pouted. “I only want Norman.”
“Henry…” Emma started, but was interrupted when the door behind her opened.
“Good morning, Dave,” said a deep voice with a distinctive British accent.
Emma turned to see the newcomer and nearly swallowed her tongue. The man standing before her had to be a mirage, because surely someone that handsome didn’t really exist. He had a lean physique clad in dark jeans and a maroon henley, with a tantalizing view of chest hair peeking out of the unbuttoned neckline. A black leather jacket completed his ensemble. His chiseled jawline was covered with a pleasing amount of scruff and his dark, windblown hair was falling over his forehead. He sported a wide grin and, between that and his deep blue eyes, Emma was mesmerized.
She was suddenly very aware of her own appearance. Henry’s early game meant she had thrown on a pair of sweatpants, donned an old hoodie and stuffed a beanie over her barely brushed hair that morning. Her face was free of makeup, unless you counted a few stray flecks of mascara that stubbornly refused to come off when she washed her face the previous evening.
“Hey, Killian,” David greeted.
The man’s - Killian’s - eyes had settled on Emma, a glint of curiosity evident in them.
“Oh, um, come on Henry,” she said, after several moments of silence. “Let’s get out of this man’s way.”
“But Mommmm…” he whined.
Emma put her hand on his shoulder and guided him away from the counter. “We’ll figure something out, kid.”
“I’m in no hurry, Miss,” Killian began.
“No, it’s okay,” she hurried to assure him. “I’m afraid I created a problem that might take a while to straighten out, so please, go ahead.”
“In that case, thank you very much,” he smiled. Turning his eyes to David, he asked, “Is Winston ready?”
Emma was surprised to see the genial shelter worker furrow his brow at the other man. “Why do you insist on calling him that?”
Killian shrugged. “He looks like a Winston to me, and he answers to that name when he’s at my house.”
David glanced at Emma and Henry and opened his mouth to say something, but apparently changed his mind. Grabbing a leash off of a hook, he said, “Give me a minute,” then he pushed the door open and disappeared into the back.
“Are you adopting a dog today?” Henry asked Killian.
“Alas, no. I just moved into a small apartment here three months ago and am still trying to get everything organized and put away. Being in a new town has been a bit lonely at times, so I’ve been coming here now and then to borrow a dog for a few hours.”
“That’s why we’re here, but somebody is taking the dog I want,” Henry grumbled.
“Henry, that’s enough,” Emma reprimanded. “You haven’t even looked at any of the other dogs.”
“None of them will be as good as Norman.”
Killian’s brows raised. “Did you say Nor-”
Just then, the door behind the counter opened and David came through, trying to control a very excited dog.
“Norman!” Henry cheered, dropping to his knees. The dog started jumping toward him, wildly licking his face as soon as he reached the boy.
“I thought you said he was already rented today,” Emma questioned David.
“He is,” he replied, looking pointedly at Killian.
Emma followed his gaze and saw the other man watching the interaction between Henry and the dog with a sheepish look on his face. The pieces began to click together and she asked, “Wait a minute - is Norman the dog you’re renting today?”
“Aye,” Killian confirmed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Looks like we’re here for the same dog.”
“But you called him by another name,” Emma continued.
“He’s the dog I’ve rented every time and he just doesn’t seem like a Norman to me, so I started calling him Winston,” Killian explained.
All three adults stood looking at the whirlwind of fur jumping all over Henry, who was giggling so much, he could hardly catch his breath.
Finally, Killian spoke. “It seems as though Win-, I mean, Norman, has made his choice. Please let Henry and…his mother have the dog today, Dave.”
“Emma,” she informed him. “My name is Emma Swan, and you don’t have to do that. You had him reserved first. Besides, Henry needs to learn he can’t always have his way.”
“I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my time with the dog, knowing how sad it would make Henry,” Killian responded. He took a step forward and offered Emma his hand to shake. “I’m Killian Jones, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma.”
As they shook hands, David cleared his throat. “Um, I have an idea of how to work this out. It’s a nice day, so why don’t all of you take Norman to the dog park together?”
Emma and Killian both whipped their heads around to stare at him. He seemed to shrink back a bit before stammering, “I mean, that way you could all spend time with him and get to know each other at the same time. You’ve been saying you’d like to meet more people in Storybrooke, Killian, and that’s where Henry and Emma live.” Looking at Emma, he added, “I’ve gotten to know Killian pretty well because he sings in the church choir with me and Mary Margaret. He’s a good guy.”
Emma slowly turned her eyes back to the very handsome man whose hand she suddenly realized she was still holding. She dropped it quickly, as she felt a blush heating her cheeks. Then she looked at Henry, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Norman sprawled across his lap. He was looking up at her with hope in his eyes.
Meeting Killian’s gaze once again, she asked, “What do you think?”
“I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position, Emma.”
“You wouldn’t have to go all the way back into Storybrooke,” David said. “There’s a small dog park at the end of the walking path, where a lot of people take dogs they’re thinking of adopting.”
“Please, Mom?” Henry pleaded. “Norman would like that, wouldn’t you, boy?”
Emma took a look at the pair and groaned, “It’s bad enough when you use the puppy dog eyes on me, kid. Now you’ve got the dog doing it, too.”
Killian chuckled lowly, the sound of it making Emma’s stomach flip in a very pleasant way. “I would hate to disappoint the two of them, so I’m game if you are, lass.”
Emma chewed her lip in contemplation for a few seconds, before saying, “Okay, but on one condition - you let me pay half of the rental fee.”
“I already paid the fee online,” Killian said.
“So did I, so I guess that takes care of that.”
“Not really,” David said. “You both paid, but you’re only renting one dog. I should reimburse each of you half of the fee.”
“Keep it,” Emma and Killian answered at the same time, then both laughed.
“The shelter can always use a little extra money, can’t it, Mr. Nolan?” Emma asked.
“Please call me David. And of course we can, if you’re both sure you don’t mind.”
As soon as they affirmed their answer, David walked around the counter and picked up the end of the leash. Handing it to Emma, he said, “In that case, Norman-slash-Winston is yours for the next four hours. You can bring him back sooner, if you like, but I’m sure he’s going to love getting out for a while. Oh, and if you get hungry, there’s usually a couple of food trucks near the dog park on Saturdays. Have fun!”
Emma and Killian thanked him, then went out the door with Norman straining at the leash, and Henry skipping along beside him. They quickly found the sign marking the path and started walking it.
After several paces, Killian turned to Emma and asked, “Is it me, or do you feel like David just set us up?”
“One hundred percent,” Emma laughed.
“How long have you known him?”
“David?” she questioned. At his hum of affirmation, she said, “Henry and I rented Norman three weeks ago and that was the first time I met him. David, I mean, not Norman. Well, it was the first time we met Norman, too. His wife is Henry’s teacher. Again, I mean she’s David’s wife, not Norman’s.” She knew she was rambling, but the thought of spending several hours with the gorgeous stranger was making her nervous.
Killian laughed. “That’s a relief. I borrowed Win-, uh, Norman three times and he never once mentioned being married.”
It was Emma’s turn to laugh - mostly because what he said was funny, but also in relief that he responded to her embarrassing prattling with humor, instead of judgment.
“So, if Dave just met you, he probably doesn’t even know if you’re married or dating anyone. That was a little presumptuous of him.”
“Are you fishing for information, Mr. Jones?” Emma teased.
“Killian will do,” he grinned. “And…perhaps?”
Before she could answer, Henry ran back to join them. “Can I take Norman, Mom? He’s walking really well on the leash, so I don’t think he’ll yank my arm out of the socket.”
She looked at Killian, who raised an eyebrow with a bemused look on his face.
“That’s something I said when we picked Norman up the last time,” she explained. Handing the loop of the leash to Henry, she said, “Don’t get too far ahead of us, kid.”
“We won’t,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Emma turned her attention back to the man beside her. “To answer your non-question Killian, no, I am not married or dating anyone. It’s just Henry and me, and always has been. When I told his father I thought I might be pregnant, he didn’t even stick around long enough to find out if I was or not.”
Killian absorbed this news for a few moments before responding, “If you don’t mind me saying, it sounds as if the two of you might be better off without someone like that, anyway.”
“Oh, definitely. Henry is more mature at eight than his sperm donor was as an adult. I was young and foolish, but I had to grow up fast once I became a single mother.” She watched her son trying to get Norman to walk beside him, then turned to look at Killian. “Sorry, that is a lot more information than I’m sure you wanted to know.”
“No need to apologize, Emma. I did ask, in a roundabout way.”
“So what’s your story? Did you move here from England, or am I misreading your accent?”
“You got it right,” he chuckled, then took a deep breath. “There was nothing left for me in England. My brother moved here soon after our mother died two years ago, and once I found out my girlfriend was actually a married woman, I needed a fresh start.”
“Ouch,” Emma commented.
“Aye, and now I’ve probably shared more than you wanted to know.”
“We’ll call it even, and promise to talk about much lighter subjects for the rest of the day,” Emma said.
“Deal.”
“You said your brother moved here. Does that mean he lives in Storybrooke?”
“Aye, he followed his heart and it led him straight to this quaint little town.”
“Who does he date, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“He’s engaged to the town librarian, Belle French.”
“Liam is your brother? I guess I should have figured that out since your last name is Jones.”
“It’s a very common name, lass. Yes, Liam is my brother. I gather you know him?”
“Belle is one of my best friends, so I know him through her. She used to babysit for Henry quite often, when I was a waitress at Granny’s.”
“Ah, the famous Granny’s Diner!” Killian exclaimed. “I visit that establishment frequently. She makes the best lasagna.”
“I think you meant to say the best grilled cheese and onion rings,” Emma grinned mischieviously.
“I’ve yet to try those particular delicacies,” he smirked.
“Try them,” she advised. “I guarantee you’ll love them.”
Looking ahead, they saw they were nearing the dog park and picked up their pace. They caught up with Henry and Norman just before reaching the entrance. There were about a half-dozen dogs running around the park, some loose and others on leashes.
“I think it would be a good idea for Mr. Jones to take Norman before we go in,” Emma told Henry. “He’ll be able to control him better if he gets too excited.”
“Okay,” Henry said, willingly handing over the leash.
“Thanks, lad,” Killian smiled.
Henry went through the first gate, holding it open for his mom, followed by Killian and Norman. When they were all in the buffer zone, Henry opened the next gate leading into the main part of the park.
“You’re raising quite the gentleman, Emma,” Killian commented, after he entered with the dog.
“He has his moments.”
They all watched Norman as he began sniffing around excitedly, then pulling on the leash when he noticed the other canines sharing his space. He nearly yanked Killian off of his feet with his enthusiasm to meet new friends.
The next twenty minutes were spent chasing the dog and trying to settle him down. After a few of the other owners left with their animals, Henry found a tennis ball and engaged Norman in a game of fetch. The adults sat on a bench to observe the pair, laughing at the clumsiness of the dog.
Emma noticed Killian rubbing his shoulder. “Alright there, Jones?”
“I think he might have pulled my arm out of the socket, Swan,” he quipped.
“Very funny, smart guy,” she said, making him laugh again. They watched for a few more minutes before Emma asked, “Do you have a job in Storybrooke? I started working at the sheriff’s station three months ago and I don’t remember seeing you around town.”
“I’m an architect. I was able to keep my job with the firm in England by working online and attending meetings with clients and my colleagues via Zoom. All of my time is spent in my office at home. It’s not ideal, but I appreciate my boss being willing to make concessions for me.”
“Do you plan to get a job here eventually?”
“Aye, if I decide to stay.”
“You don’t sound very sure.”
“I’m used to the hustle and bustle of a big city. Living in Storybrooke has been quite an adjustment.”
“I get that. We moved here from Boston when Henry was two. Granny’s granddaughter, Ruby, was our neighbor there, and when she decided to move back, she talked me into coming with her. At first, I had a hard time getting used to the peace and quiet. That was one reason why I adopted Ernie - just to have a little more noise in the house.”
“Ernie?” Killian questioned.
“Oh, he was our dog. We had him for six years, but he died a couple of months ago.” She pulled her phone out of the pouch of her hoodie and swiped to reveal her lock screen. “This is a picture of Henry with him.”
“Beautiful animal,” Killian commented sincerely, taking in the photo of the brown and white spaniel. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” Emma sighed, locking her phone and returning it to the pocket. “Henry grew up with him and he’s had a really hard time with it. Someone suggested renting a pet from the shelter to help him work through it, and that’s how we ended up renting Norman.”
“They seem to really like each other.”
“Yeah, they got along great the first time. That’s why I signed up to get him again, but I was in a hurry when I filled out the form and forgot to ask for a specific dog.”
“Ah, that explains the mix-up,” Killian remarked.
Another half hour passed while they chatted easily, until Henry came over and flopped down on the ground, quickly joined by Norman. “I’m hungry, Mom. Can we get something to eat?”
“Sure, kid. Put Norman back on his leash and we’ll go find those food trucks Mr. Nolan mentioned.”
They soon located the food trucks just down the sidewalk from the park. After discussing their options, they decided to get pulled pork sandwiches from the barbeque place. It was obvious that people who took their pets to the dog park frequented the food trucks, because each one had bowls of water set out in front of them and containers of dog biscuits on their condiment tables.
While they waited for their food, Henry tried to teach Norman to sit, rewarding him with pieces of the biscuits when he obeyed.
“He’s very good with him,” Killian noted.
“He prays for another dog every night, but our schedule is so busy right now. Plus, it’s such a big responsibility and I’m not sure Henry is ready for it. I might be wrong about that though, seeing how he is with Norman.”
After eating, they followed the sidewalk a little further and spotted a playground. Emma and Killian sat on a bench, with Norman sitting between them as they watched Henry play on the equipment.
“You know, we’ve lived in Storybrooke for six years and I never knew this playground existed,” Emma commented. “We don’t come this way very often, because whenever we go out of town, we take the road going south.”
“It appears to be fairly new,” Killian observed. “Perhaps they constructed it when they built those apartments over there, because they don’t look like they’ve been there very long.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. I remember when they were being constructed a couple of years after we moved here, which means they’re less than five years old.”
They lost sight of Henry for a few seconds when he climbed a ladder up into a tower. Suddenly they heard him shout, “Hey, Mom! Look what I found!” and saw him coming down a twisting slide with his arms over his head, clutching a tattered looking soccer ball.
He landed at the bottom and came running over to them. “Someone must have forgotten this at the top of the tower. Wanna kick it around with me?”
“Sure, kid,” Emma answered, hopping up from the bench. “It looks a bit deflated. Are you sure it’s even going to roll?”
“It’ll be fine,” he assured her. Placing it on the ground, he gave it a kick and watched it roll across the grass. “See?”
A black streak flew past him, with Killian following close behind shouting, “Wins-, I mean, Norman! Come back here!”
The dog ignored him, but stopped when he got to the soccer ball. He was trying to pick it up in his mouth when the three humans reached him. Killian was able to kick it away from him, directly to Emma, who stopped it with her foot, then booted it over to Henry. Norman ran from one to the other, in hot pursuit of the elusive ball.
The ‘keep away’ game kept them entertained for a long time. They ran, shouting instructions to each other and laughing until all of them were completely out of breath. Norman was able to intercept some of their passes, but they always managed to get it away from him before he was able to pick it up and run off.
Finally, Emma declared that she had to take a break. Picking up Norman’s leash, she said, “I think we should take him back to the food trucks to get a drink and buy a couple of bottles of water.”
“Aww, Mom,” Henry complained. “I’m not ready to go yet. Can’t I stay here? Killian will stay with me, won’t you, Killian?”
“First of all, you should call him Mr. Jones, and secondly, you’re putting him on the spot, which isn’t cool,” Emma admonished.
Henry looked appropriately chagrined. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jones.”
“Thank you, Henry, but if I may be so bold, I don’t mind you calling me Killian. That is, if it’s okay with your mother.”
Henry looked to his mom, who considered for a few seconds, then gave him a nod of approval.
Killian put his arm across Henry’s shoulders and walked him the short distance to where Emma was standing. “I’d be happy to go get the water, Emma.” He took the end of Norman’s leash from her. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
While he was gone, Emma sat on the bench watching Henry continue to kick the soccer ball around. Killian and Norman returned a few minutes later, handed her a bottle of water and sat down beside her.
“Do I owe you anything for this?” Emma asked, unscrewing the lid.
“Not at all. I think I can afford to buy a lovely lass a bottle of water.”
She refrained from rolling her eyes at his use of the adjective, still rueing the fact she met such a handsome man while looking like she just rolled out of bed. As she was getting ready to take a drink, Henry kicked the ball and sent it sailing over their head, causing Emma to duck and spill some of the water in her lap.
Henry ran over, stopping in front of her. “Oops. Sorry, Mom. I was trying to kick it at the teeter-totter.”
Emma brushed at the water droplets, looking around to locate the teeter-totter, which was at least twenty feet away from the bench. “Not even close, kid.”
Killian stood up. “Perhaps I could give you some pointers, lad. I was a rather good football player when I was younger .”
Henry’s forehead creased in confusion. “I play soccer, not football.”
Killian chuckled as Emma explained, “Killian grew up in England and over there, soccer is called football. They call what we play ‘American football’, don’t they, Killian?”
“Aye, lass. Sorry to confuse you, Henry.”
“Oh, I never knew that. So, how good were you?”
Killian rubbed a finger behind his ear, ducking his head a bit. “I played in a semi-professional league for a couple of years and actually tried out for a professional club, before I decided to go to Uni and become an architect instead.”
“Wow! Cool!” Henry exclaimed. “You probably know even more about soccer than my coach!”
Emma laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he knows a bit more than a volunteer coach for a youth league team.” She took the dog’s leash back from Killian. “Norman and I will sit this lesson out.”
Killian attempted to wink at her. “As you wish, Milady. Come on, lad. We’ve got work to do.”
She smiled fondly, watching the two of them passing the ball back and forth for a while, before pulling out her phone to catch up on her social media apps.
When she looked up a few minutes later, she saw Killian giving Henry instructions for controlling the ball as he dribbled it down the field. Apparently, they were using two trees as the goal and Henry was moving toward them quickly, while trying rather unsuccessfully to keep the ball under control. When he kicked it from quite a distance away, the ball hit one of the trees and ricocheted away.
Killian went to retrieve the ball and took it back to where Henry was waiting. He squatted down in front of the boy and began talking to him, gesturing now and then to different parts of the field.
Henry listened intently, nodding once in a while. When Killian finished speaking, he stood up and did a short demonstration of how to move the ball back and forth from foot to foot. Then he patted the boy’s shoulder, walked the ball further away from the trees and set it down.
Henry lined himself up behind the ball and looked up at Killian. After getting a reassuring smile from him, Henry started dribbling the ball across the ground with shorter, more controlled kicks, while Killian jogged beside him, shouting encouragement. This time, he got the ball much closer to the trees, before giving it a powerful kick that sent it shooting right between them.
Killian whooped as Henry raised his arms in victory, giving a triumphant cheer. What Emma saw happen next put a lump in her throat. Henry flung his arms around Killian’s waist, hugging him tightly, and Killian returned the hug, rubbing his hand over her son’s head as he looked down at him with a proud smile on his face.
🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾
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#pet for rent#jrob64#csff#CS fluff#CS smut#CS modern AU#captain swan fanfic#art by jrob64#ouat Captain Swan fanfic#Captain cobra
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Untie Me (4/7) - A CS architects fic
Untie Me | captain swan fic | office romance | mature | 4/7 | 8.8k | in progress
“It’s a 3 AM drunk on the side of the road girl-talk, but I can give you the highlights. Or the opposite of that.”
“I’ll have you know, Swan I’m proficient in girl-talk.”
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and we'll put on a show
SUMMARY: “I get everyone else doesn’t want to go back, I get it. It’s nice being together and having the comfortable mattress and soft pillows and literal palace. But, actually, no, you know what unsettles me the most about being here?” she rants one day while she paces her bed chambers. Hook casually lays on the chaise lounge under the window, spearing grapes with his hook before sliding them off with his mouth, a sight that becomes more and more dangerous the more she sees it. His shirt is unbuttoned to a staggering degree and his chest hair is more of a distraction than she ever thought such a thing could be.
“Ogres? Flying monkeys? Genies?” Hook offers without any real thought.
|| Emma didn't mean to alter Pan's curse. She just wanted to keep her family together. The Enchanted Forest is interesting and all, but it would've been great if her alterations kept them together in Storybrooke where there's hot showers and a McDonalds just past the town line.
RATING: Teen
WORD COUNT: 6,572 words
TAGS: Captain Swan, Fluff, Humor
AO3
AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was going to be a quick, fun, ridiculous kind of one-shot and here we are 6k+ later. also, apparently i have 187 different writing styles so i call this one "no backstory necessary".
sorry not sorry for what you're about to read.
heh :)
***
When Pan’s curse was coming and Emma tapped into her deep well of highly untrained, incredibly powerful, and equally chaotic magic, she didn’t know what to expect. All that had been on her mind was staying together – her, Henry, her parents, Regina, Neal, Hook… She didn’t care how it happened or where they were, all she focused on was not being left alone again.
Wish magic, Mother Superior had told her when the smoke dissipated and they were all in the Enchanted Forest. Wish magic is already powerful but paired with your magic, and the wish magic in your heart, it is something I’ve never seen before.
The prospect was daunting. As if being the Savior wasn’t enough, every time she turned around, she had more power than before and even less of a mind on how to use it.
It would’ve been nice if her magic worked well enough to keep them in Storybrooke with hot showers and cars and food already meal prepped. Instead she’s back to chomping on chimera when she’d kill for a bear claw or some Pringles.
“I get everyone else doesn’t want to go back, I get it. It’s nice being together and having the comfortable mattress and soft pillows and literal palace. But, actually, no, you know what unsettles me the most about being here?” she rants one day while she paces her bed chambers. Hook casually lays on the chaise lounge under the window, spearing grapes with his hook before sliding them off with his mouth, a sight that becomes more and more dangerous the more she sees it. His shirt is unbuttoned to a staggering degree and his chest hair is more of a distraction than she ever thought such a thing could be.
“Ogres? Flying monkeys? Genies?” Hook offers without any real thought.
“Wait. Genies are real too?!”
“Is there anything about this realm that doesn’t surprise you, Swan?”
Emma groans and stomps over to her bed, falling back onto it and letting her legs dangle off the side. Her trousers ride up her backside in the most uncomfortable way but she’s too focused on her frustration to bother fixing it. The clothes in the Enchanted Forest are surprisingly soft and durable with even more flexibility than she’s used to. But she misses jeans and sometimes she wants to wear a nice heel that makes her ass look great and gives her an extra two inches of height. The ball gowns are definitely not her thing, at least not the first fifteen dresses that resembled more puff balls than evening wear. The red dress that her mother pulled out for her though – that is an exception.
“Ugh, what really pisses me off is I’ll never know if the last Game of Thrones book ever gets finished and I’ll never know if Derek dies and I won’t get to watch the new Star Wars trilogy with Henry.”
Hook sits up, eyebrows raised high. “Who is Derek?”
Emma groans again and covers her face with her hands. “I can’t even complain to you because you don’t know.”
“It would be helpful if you explained it to me, love.”
His words are soft and gentle and the verbal equivalent of him offering a hand to stand up. It makes her shiver in a way that reminds her of when she was in middle school and Zackary Theed kissed her behind the bleachers when they should’ve been running the mile. The excitement of something so innocent and sweet.
Leaning up on her elbows, she catches the quick glance of Hook’s eyes on the sliver of stomach her shirt exposes with her movements. When his eyes meet hers a moment later, he smirks but holds back the usual heat, giving her his undivided attention.
The dynamic between herself and Hook has been… interesting, to say the least. Especially with the entirety of Storybrooke’s impromptu return to the Enchanted Forest. Her parents, as much as she loves them – because she is accepting that she’s starting to love them – are overwhelming. They’re trying to be comforting and supportive but they’re so excited to finally live this life with her that they’ve always imagined. They’ve talked of balls and suitors and learning to rule when all Emma wants is a nap and some alcohol.
Henry is taking everything in stride, happier than he’s ever been in all the time she’s known him. Not only does he have both moms in the same palace but he also has his dad, a whole stable of horses to choose from, and archery and sword fighting lessons are part of his curriculum now. All in all, it’s every kid’s fantasy come to life and he hasn’t thought once about Storybrooke.
Emma wishes she could say the same but she didn’t grow up here. This isn’t who she is and finding a happy medium to settle at gets more and more exhausting by the day.
She spent her first week in the castle putting her feelers out and trying to gauge the reaction to the town’s sudden relocation. While some townspeople missed the conveniences of Storybrooke, many of them were happy to be home.
Hook kept himself sparce during that first week. Not only did he want to give Emma time with her family and to begin to acclimate but he also needed to find his ship. She wasn’t sure if he’d come back once he got it. His confession in the Echo Caves and their exchange at the town line laid heavy on her mind and played in circles when she tried to sleep the first few nights. He had been honest from the start and never pushed her to reciprocate his feelings. Feelings which, though he might not believe it, are there.
But the pirate spent centuries on the sea and she doesn’t know, when it comes down to the sea or her, who the more satisfying temptress is.
It was during Hook’s absence that stretched from one week to three that Emma accepted her feelings for him ran deeper than pure attraction. She’d find herself in meetings with the council, looking around for his face only to not find it. A comment would slip just under her breath and his resulting chuckle was nowhere to be found. Loneliness crept over her shoulders like a rolling fog.
Everyone else here had… someone. And once again, Emma did not. Henry bounced around between all his parents and was doted on endlessly by everyone, and her parents divided their time with her and their many duties. Even the friends she made in Storybrooke didn’t feel like they were still hers as they fell back into the roles of councilors and advisors for the crown.
Then Hook came back after three weeks with his ship in the harbor and a bottle of spiced rum from a far-off land for them to share in secret and she felt the loneliness ebb away bit by bit. Rum wasn’t the only thing he returned with. No, he had bundles of fabrics and clothes from the far reaches of the realm and trinkets like seashells for her and Henry to use to replace their cell phones.
He promised her at the town line with a curse coming for them that a day wouldn’t go by that he didn’t think of her. The curse never came but the promise stayed true, his acquisitions showed.
Even now, as they lounge in her bed chambers in the high tower of the castle, his attention remains solely on her. The thought makes her cheeks warm and his gaze, when she meets it, churns a longing low in her stomach.
“Derek is from a television show called Grey’s Anatomy and it’s been rumored he might die this season but I’ve been so far behind that I don’t even know if he did and now I never will!” she groans. The lid has been lifted and now she can’t stop even as she watches Killian’s eyebrows rise higher and higher. “The new Star Wars movie coming out this year was supposed to be a special thing for me and Henry to do together and now we can’t even do that! We used to watch Brooklyn 99 and Law & Order: SVU and reruns of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air together because those were our things but now we don’t have a thing! How do I compete with sword fighting and horses and freaking Robin Hood?!”
“You can always bring the lad to the beanstalk.”
She bites back the urge to say the beanstalk is theirs and instead shakes her head. “I want something we can do where one of the potential risks isn’t plummeting to our deaths.”
Killian smirks and stabs another grape. “I did prevent your fall, love.”
Not quite, she thinks to herself before the thought immediately overwhelms her and she feels her walls reinforcing themselves. She likes Killian, like-likes him and all that grade school crush stuff. But she doesn’t love the guy. Their friendship is still on new ground having only become allies in Neverland. And that kiss…
That kiss is as indescribable now as it was then and her hand twitches in an ache to touch her lips at the memory.
Attraction and chemistry burning red hot is what exists between them. But love? No way.
Emma sits up as straight as the walls she’s reassembled around her heart. “You also hit me in the head with your hook.”
“You survived, didn’t you?”
I might not.
“The point is, while this move to the Enchanted Forest is great and all, we all get to be a…” she struggles to find the right word. Family should be easy to say but she’s still struggling on that front. Mary Margaret and David still don’t quite understand but they’re trying. She’s just not there yet. Emma swallows. “A unit. But this wasn’t my life and I just miss some of that stuff from the real world.”
Killian pauses in his grape escapade and eyes her carefully. “The world is just as real here as it was in your realm.”
Emma sighs and rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Would you have stayed?” he asks after a moment of silence. “If you had the choice between Storybrooke and the Enchanted Forest – would you have stayed in Storybrooke?”
“What does it matter?” she says. “I didn’t have a choice.”
His tone edges on sad but he tries to keep it neutral, interested. “Humor an old pirate.”
“I don’t know, okay? There’s a lot that answer depends on.”
Hook eyes her. “What does it depend on?”
“A lot of things!” she fights back. He presses the question again and Emma erupts from her spot on the bed, angry that he won’t let this go, and starts to pace. “Things like where Henry would be, where my parents would be, where you –”
She cuts herself off fast, eyes wide and heart pounding through her chest. Hook stands slowly from his spot on the chaise and licks his lips in anticipation.
“Emma –”
“Mom!”
Henry comes barreling in the open door of her bedroom like a force of nature. Hair windswept and toothy grin on his face, Emma’s always glad to see her son so joyful but especially now when his appearance offers her an escape. “Hey, kid. What’s got you so happy?” She smiles softly at him while ignoring the holes Hook burns into the side of her head.
“I want to show you what Grandma taught me during archery today. It’s so cool, you have no idea.” It’s easy to agree to her son’s request and she moves to follow him out the door when he stops and turns to her companion. “Hook, do you want to check it out too? I bet you probably haven’t seen this in the last 300 years.”
The pirate in question must read the panic on Emma’s face and smiles sadly at Henry, coming close enough to drop his hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Unfortunately I have some business to attend to but if you don’t mind, I’d like to watch another day.”
“Aye, aye, capt’n!” Henry grins, salute and all, before he tugs Emma’s hand out the door. “Come on, we’re losing daylight and you won’t be able to see it in the dark!”
She feels the ghost of Hook’s fingers brushing her arm but she doesn’t look back.
*
Emma skillfully avoids Hook for just over two weeks. In all honesty, he might even be avoiding her with how little she’s seen him around the palace. Then again, she’s thrown herself wholeheartedly into learning her parents’ duties for the kingdom.
But then his ship is gone from the harbor and David has suddenly taken up Mary Margaret’s pastime of sending birds with notes so all evidence points to him leaving. Not that she blames him, no, after all, everyone leaves her eventually. Their relationship is confusing enough for her, she can only imagine he’s gotten fed up with her walls stacking themselves higher with every step forward.
Still, she thought his words before the curse would’ve lasted a little longer than this.
Loneliness sneaks up on her quick but this time she welcomes it with open arms. She has no right to Hook’s heart, not when she keeps pushing him away and hurting him. No sane man would stick around for more of that torture. No sane man has that kind of patience.
Then again, he did stay alive for over 300 years to exact vengeance on his enemy.
Nevertheless, the chaise in her bedchambers stays empty and all she has to rely on is the memories of his mouth fitting perfectly against hers in Neverland and how his breath puffed against her cheek and the absolute fuckstruck expression on his face as he was ready to dive in for more before she put a stop to it. His innuendos and never-ending confidence in her abilities echo inside her mind in the silence of her room and his presence haunts the halls as she leaves enough space to her left for where he would’ve walked.
The first time she lays eyes on him after she ran out of her room is nearly four weeks later and she only catches a glimpse of him from afar.
His ship isn’t in the harbor, that much she knows. Her bedchambers have the perfect set of windows to overlook the water and she’d lie if anyone asked but her morning routine has consisted of checking each ship docked below.
That doesn’t have to mean much, she rationalizes. His ship could be out in the water and he took a dingy to shore so he could make an easy getaway. Afterall, he did leave on the Jolly Roger four weeks ago without a single farewell to her.
Whatever the reason for his probable short stint back in Misthaven, David greets him far from spying eyes and listening ears. Even the roll of her wrist and warmth of magic bubbling in her palm does nothing to reveal the secret conversation between the two men as they travel far from the castle.
They don’t return for hours, which piques her interest. One thing she’s learnt about David, especially since coming to the Enchanted Forest, is that dinner is a requirement for all. To miss dinner means you better be sick or dying. So for the man of the hour to miss the meal completely and for Mary Margaret to not raise a single eyebrow at his absence has her mind whirling.
Emma corners David later that night when he sneaks to the kitchens for a midnight snack. Her nerves have been unsettled all evening and she falls back into her typical stakeout habits which includes eating terrible food while lying in wait for her prey. Of course it’s the Enchanted Forest though and junk food consists of a few sweets and maybe bread.
God, she misses McDonalds.
David jumps in fright when he spots her at the prep island in the main kitchen. He smiles tiredly a few moments later, steals some bread, swipes her butter knife, and closes his eyes contently as he eats.
“Are the ogres angry? Are they going to start another war?” she finally blurts out when the wait gets too long and the silence eats at her center. “Did you send Hook to prepare the troops?”
Silence answers her at first. David looks at her in confusion before a deep understanding settles so serenely on his face that Emma’s instinct is to run. Instead, she swallows it down and focuses on the part of her being nagged by Hook’s abrupt absence and silent return recently.
Shaking his head in amusement, David says, “Everything is peaceful here. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“So where did you send Killian?”
“Killian?” David replies, eyebrows raised but his amusement not flagging in the slightest. He looks like he wants to talk, or maybe just tease her about her slip-up, but Emma rolls her eyes in return and speaks before he gets a chance.
“So where did you send Hook?”
“I didn’t send him anywhere.”
She presses, barely able to keep the frustration out of her voice. “Then where did he go?”
The air in the kitchen shifts. There’s a prickling starting on the back of Emma’s neck and her senses go on alert as David gives her his full and undivided attention.
“Since when have you started caring where Killian goes in his free time?”
She fumbles. Her mouth refuses to function and her brain can barely think of a coherent response. “I – I don’t.”
“Mhmm…”
David’s stare bores holes into the side of her head as she darts her gaze elsewhere. She feels like she just got caught lying by her father which… she guesses is accurate on all accounts. Even if the admission is only to herself, her stomach clenches uncomfortably and her throat dries.
When did she start to see Killian – Hook – as someone to care about? Was it when he turned his ship around and brought them to the one place he swore he’d never return to just to help her save her kid? Was it their kiss, hot and heavy under the humid jungle leaves, a magnetic connection that called to each other so strongly it took a herculean effort for her to walk away?
Or maybe it was when they were at the town line and he told her he’d think of her every day and, when her magic decided to do its own thing, he stuck by her side. He never asked for more than what she was willing to give, every day learning more and more about her limits, her likes and dislikes. Instead, they found refuge in one another. For as much time as he spent around royals, first under their command then stealing from their stores, he felt as uncomfortable as she did within the palace walls and the pomp and circumstance surrounding it all.
He suddenly became one of the most important people in her life without her even realizing it and the thought takes her breath away.
David gives her a soft smile before stepping up to her frozen frame, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and pulling her close to press a firm kiss to the top of her head. She allows him without a fight, subconsciously leaning into his warmth and fatherly comfort, closing her eyes briefly. His whispers act as a soothing balm to her broken soul. So many breaks, so much pain. Yet his presence begins to fill the cracks.
“It’ll be fine, Emma. Just talk to him.”
She listens to his words, soaking in her father at her side. For once, it’s not overwhelming or uncomfortable. It almost starts to feel like coming home.
*
Of course, because she’s Emma, she doesn’t actually make an effort to talk to Killian the next day. Or the day after that. The conversation that’ll ensue requires courage she’s struggling to find.
Instead, she watches from windows and around corners as he is friendly with Henry and Neal, strikes up long conversations with Granny and Ruby, and even shares in a secret joke with Leroy, clapping the dwarf on his back as they chuckle and grin at each other.
Everyone but her.
He doesn’t even attempt to look for her, doesn’t make an effort to come by her side even after their eyes connect across the courtyard. He merely turns back to his conversation with Marco while Emma pulls Henry closer to her side and continues their walk along the palace grounds.
She refuses to say that jealousy kicks her in the ass to actually do something but when she sees him four days later with that stupidly attractive smirk on his face being directed at Tinkerbelle before Regina joins their secret meeting, she’s had enough. Since he’s clearly too cowardly to approach her, she’ll pull up her big girl panties and do it herself.
It’s not as if she didn’t already know that she’s been running from her own feelings the entire time. Reality only sets in, however, that she’s just as cowardly when she’s strolling down one of the palace hallways and stops short at the sight of him at the other end.
He looks good.
The black leather duster shines from the sunlight streaming through the palace’s stained-glass windows. His dark hair gleams and looks softer than it felt between her fingers in Neverland. Glowing skin, straight back, confident set of his shoulders. The pirate looks like a model at ease in the middle of a clothing commercial, all carefree and beautiful. She bets that if he grins, big and wide and all his pearly whites showing, a fucking sparkle will appear with a quiet DING! to accompany it like a fucking toothpaste ad.
Un-fucking-fair.
Air leaves her lungs at the sight of him and that causes her a delay in retreating. Too substantial a delay, it seems, as Hook chooses that moment to turn on his Emma Radar and look straight at her. His face lights up and he calls out her last name, looking as if the heavens are personally highlighting him with a pitch perfect song.
Seriously?!
She turns on her heel and makes a hasty retreat. She is so not ready for this conversation. If she can even keep it together enough to not pull on that stupid vest – a deep red color that looks to be made of velvet and probably soft to the touch – to drag the pirate into a nearby closet to kiss or kill him. The jury is still out on that decision.
“Swan!” he calls again, rushing to reach her. The cool metal of his hook encircles her elbow and turns her his way. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” he exclaims, relief in his voice and clear in the way his forehead relaxes.
“Really?” She snorts so unladylike she’s sure both Mary Margaret and Regina would be annoyed if they heard. “Because it seems like you’ve been avoiding me since you came back from who knows where.”
“I –” he starts before sighing. “Not exactly.”
Hmph. So he was avoiding her. The truth tugs at her chest in such a painful way that Emma only barely resists the urge to rub at the area over her silk shirt.
“Whatever, Hook.” Anger wraps around his moniker like a hot iron. He can hear it, the slight drop of his head and the glow fading from his features when it’s said, but he doesn’t allow her to run like she so desperately tries. “What?!” she hisses.
“Just come with me, love. I promise, you can be angry and hate me again after but… just let me show you something.”
Hook has only ever looked so earnest once before and her mouth drops open at seeing the sight again. Blue eyes plead with her as his eyebrows raise in encouragement. Emma feels herself nodding before she realizes what she’s doing and suddenly he’s ushering her down the hallway and towards the wide garden space behind the castle.
“I – I don’t hate you,” she says when the silence gets too much for her. Even when they fought on opposite sides and he annoyed her to hell, she never hated him. The thought he could believe such a thing unsettles her to the core. “Just because I’m upset with you doesn’t mean I hate you.”
“Your anger is well deserved. My apologies, love.” He shakes his head, pulling them to a stop before they enter the gardens. Ocean blue eyes stare into her meadow green and her breath hitches as he comes closer. The torches that line the hallway dim as her focus zeroes in on Hook. It’s been a struggle in the past keeping her eyes off of his mouth whenever he deemed personal space to be a nonentity. But this time his gaze keeps her locked in and she doesn’t even dare to blink. “Consider this part of my apology,” he whispers. “Your heart’s desire, Swan. That’s all I want.”
He steps away before she even comprehends the enormity of his statement and pulls her into the gardens.
The wide expanse of grass is freshly trimmed, the smell filling her nostrils and reminding her of summers at foster homes wishing for a family to laze around a backyard with. The flowers and plants that border the gardens are in full bloom offering an array of colors. Red roses, yellow shrubbery, pink Middlemist flowers. She’s been in the gardens a number of times since their latest return to the Enchanted Forest but now the colors seem brighter and more vibrant.
Hook gently presses his namesake to the middle of her back. Emma’s gaze shifts forward at the touch and she chokes out a gasp.
Down the center of the gardens sits a newly built wooden stage. Wide and made of a dark mahogany that sheens under the sunlight, it takes up nearly the entire width of the flat grassy area. Deep red curtains are pulled across the front of it, hiding whatever stands on the stage. They rustle slightly from movement behind it and Emma lets out a soft giggle at the sound of Hook cursing under his breath beside her.
Six rows of chairs divided down the middle face the stage and she recognizes many of the occupants to be folks working within the castle, or the Misthaven townspeople she used to see in passing around Storybrooke. They all greet her with a smile and nod as Emma is guided to a chair in the first row with a nearly center view of the stage.
“What is going on?” she asks Hook as he stands beside her seat. Her head turns on a swivel looking for a hint of what kind of performance they’re about to see.
“Patience is a virtue, love.”
“Seriously?!” she nearly whines, earning a chuckle in response. She huffs, eyeing him with a small upward tilt of her lips before she looks away.
Chatter is quiet behind her but there’s an excitement thrumming in the air. Voices whisper from the stage but they’re too soft for her to listen for any familiar inflections. Instead, she examines the corners of the stage and the gaps in the curtain that appear every few moments.
Her eyes are still soaking in everything around her when Hook drops his duster on the chair beside hers and grins mischievously at her. “Back in a moment.” He winks at her, slow and smooth and so unlike his terrible attempt when they climbed the beanstalk. She bites her lip to keep the grin from exploding on her face.
Hook stands on the wings of the stage with her father as they whisper in a tight huddle. The two of them duck behind the curtain for a moment before Hook exits and strolls back to her side, taking the seat he reserved for himself. Before Emma can fire off her questions, David emerges from between the curtains.
She watches in awe at how her father captures the attention of the crowd, how he spreads his thanks to Marco and Pinocchio for the stage and scenery, to Jaq, Gus, and Blue for the costuming. He leads into enthusiastic applause with each announcement and she finds herself just as enthralled as the rest of the crowd.
“Finally,” David says and Hook tenses beside her. “You all may know him as Captain Hook but I know him as a friend. None of this would be possible without him.” Her father looks at Emma for a long moment before he looks to Hook and she looks on in confusion as tears build in his gaze. “Killian Jones,” he says through heavy emotion and her companion shifts uncomfortably beside her. “I thank you.”
David steps aside and the curtains pull away to show the stage. It looks like a replica of Storybrooke General Hospital but a large banner hung centerstage says Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. The entire set reminds her of Grey’s Anatomy.
And that’s when it hits her. David’s words finally sink in and Emma turns to Hook – Killian – in shock. He avoids her eyes, raising his hook to gently scratch behind his ear as he looks up at the stage from a lowered gaze.
Leroy stomps on stage talking about an urgent medical case and Granny joins him a few moments later. The two of them bicker back and forth in a way that borders on flirty, their voices sounding far away and drifting into her ear, leaving Emma confused for all of a few moments before it’s revealed that they play Derek and Meredith respectively. She probably would’ve laughed at the casting – she never would’ve pegged Leroy for McDreamy but he’s honestly incredible on stage – but her focus is set on the man beside her who organized a fucking theatre troupe so she wouldn’t be left wondering about one of her favorite shows.
“Don’t make all my hard work go to waste, love,” he mumbles, cheeks red as he glances at her before quickly averting his gaze again. He nudges at her thigh with his hook and nods towards the stage. Emma doesn’t even realize her mouth is still hanging open until she tries to swallow and finds her throat dry.
With little else to do, she turns her attention to the stage and is immediately wrapped up in the story they’re telling. It’s clear that someone within the troupe is a hardcore Grey’s Anatomy fan and was clearly all caught up on the show while she fell behind due to Neverland. The mannerisms, the dramatics, the dialogue – all of it makes her feel like she’s actually watching it.
The forty-five-minute performance goes by in a flash and she’s amongst the loudest cheers when the troupe takes their bows. Her grin is wide and it’s nearly impossible to take her attention away from the stage.
Until Killian sticks his fingers in his mouth to give a loud whistle and Emma can look at nothing but him.
The ruthless pirate who has continually proved her wrong. The scoundrel who came back to help her get Henry even if it meant returning to Neverland. The lost soul who promised to think of her every day they were apart, even if that meant forever. The man who listened to her frivolous whining and delivered her all she had wanted for and more.
Killian tries to stay behind to speak with the troupe about some matter or another but Emma grabs him by the hook and pulls him to an alcove in the garden hidden by prying eyes.
“Swan, what’s – ”
She backs herself into the alcove, pulls on his vest, and crashes her lips against his, effectively stopping his sentence. Emma feels his sharp intake of breath before he sighs into the kiss, hand coming up to cradle her head against the stone of the palace. Their mouths move over each other slowly, stroking the heat in their stomachs to a blazing inferno.
When Emma pulls away, they breathe heavily in each other’s space, swaying closer together as their eyes remain shut.
“Thank you,” she whispers, biting on her swollen lip when she finally opens her eyes. His are still shut, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
“I quite like the way we show gratitude.” He cracks an eye open and grins, her own smile widening to match his.
*
Suddenly they’re courting.
Instead of Netflix & Chill, they have Storybrooke Storytellers & Garden Make-outs. A date night at the movies is equivalent to sitting in the garden as her family reenacts the original Star Wars trilogy, her parents as Han and Leia, Henry proudly swinging a lightsaber as Luke, and Neal fittingly as Darth Vader.
Killian whispers tidbits in her ear during each performance, like how Leroy and Granny fought over who was correct regarding one of their Grey’s Anatomy performances, Leroy winning at the end. “He’s got the bloody show memorized, love. Knows the whole thing front and back. Absolutely obsessed.”
Or how Henry assigned everyone’s roles for Star Wars and how it was unanimously decided that Whale would be the dead victim for their recent rendition of Law & Order: SVU, or even how Killian’s curious about the romantic comedies that Belle has brought to his attention. “The lad wants to do everyone’s fairytales as well,” he says, grin pressed against the back of her neck one afternoon. She laughs at the ridiculous image her son’s aspirations create for her, her soul feeling lighter with every moment.
It’s a little bit of the home she created in Storybrooke, right here in the Enchanted Forest. For a girl who’s searched for that all her life, it makes Emma’s heart race ahead of every performance they watch. No one has ever done something like that for her before and she tells him as much through tears one evening as they look at the stars from her balcony. He holds her close, murmuring sweet nothings into her hair and Emma realizes she wants to give him everything.
“Let’s go to the Jolly,” she says. Her head rests on his chest from their stargazing and she feels him tense under her. Eyebrows pinched together in uncertainty, she tilts her head up to look at him. “If that’s okay with you?”
He shifts uncomfortably, not at all in the way she wants him to be, and her confusion mounts. “There’s no need to go to the Jolly,” he answers with a tight grin.
She rolls her eyes, sitting up from her spot and steadies her focus on him. She says point blank, “I am not having sex with you under the same roof as my parents.” Killian sputters and Emma enjoys rendering him speechless for all of two seconds before doubt creeps in. “Do you not want to?”
At her hesitancy, he surges up to capture her mouth in a kiss that takes her breath away and leaves her dizzy. “There’s nothing more I would like to do right now than take you as you are, wherever you desire.” A growl comes from low in her throat as she threads her fingers in his hair and nips at his bottom lip. She whispers again for him to take her to the Jolly Roger only for Killian to halt everything and pull away with a grimace.
“Killian, what’s going on with you?”
Her pirate ducks his head low to his chest before he gathers the courage to meet her gaze.
“The Jolly Roger is no longer in my possession,” he confesses. A low swoop in her stomach causes her to fumble forward in her haste to press against his side. There’s pain in his eyes, the telltale sign of loss and grief that she knows so well. But it’s small and non-consuming, like a detail of life he just lives with now.
“Did someone destroy her?” she asks after a moment, her touch cautious and her gaze searching. Killian shakes his head.
“No, I – I traded her away.”
Her body is suddenly made of concrete, refusing to move despite her mind screaming at her legs to stop Killian’s restless motions. “Wh-what? Why would you do that?!”
Killian smiles softly then. The pain is miniscule but present even as his gaze softens and he reaches his hand out to cup her cheek. “Your heart’s desire, love. That’s all I want.”
*
Despite the late hour, the moon shines high in the sky and lights their way. Her fingers clutch tightly to his metal appendage, the weight of his admission weighing heavily on her, and she stumbles after him as he leads her to the old farm fields.
The area was abandoned before the Dark Curse, her father told her one time. It suffered from barren soil after years of overuse and needed time to recover. More time than thirty years’ worth offered and yet, as Killian leads them through a gate, the fields are sprawling with greenery. Vines trail along the ground and large leaves the size of their heads sprout so intensely that it’s difficult to see the soil beneath.
“What is all this?” she asks in wonder.
Killian grins and reaches down to pull up the end of one vine, a sparkling, translucent item hanging from it. “Look familiar, love?”
A magic bean glimmers under the moonlight, ripe for the taking. It is just one of what could probably be hundreds if not thousands of beans growing on the vast vines before them.
Amazed, she asks, “How is this even possible?”
She loves this man. Before he even starts to explain everything that’s been happening – taking his ship after their conversation in her bedchambers to trade it with Blackbeard for a magic bean, organizing the troupe to give her what she was missing while they waited for the beans to grow and mature, crafting a way to make the near impossible travel between realms into something as easy as tossing a coin into a fountain – she knows deep in her soul that she loves him.
All consuming, heart racing, fingers thrumming, glowing kind of love.
“Perhaps you can finally show me that Red Lobster you rave about?” he offers cheekily.
Emma huffs out a watery laugh, words abandoning her as she looks around. When her eyes lock on his, she swears he outshines the stars.
“You gave up your ship for me?” she asks quietly, hoping to convey everything she can’t verbalize in the way her hand reaches for his and grips it tight.
You gave up your home for me?
“Aye,” he says, just as simple but just as deeply meaningful, squeezing her hand in return.
You are my home now, Swan.
They come together slowly but the passion igniting between them is stronger than it’s ever been before. Her heart is bursting with so much joy that she could cry and it takes her all to keep the tears at bay, wishing to sink into the kiss forever. Her smile, however, is another story and so is his, as they grin against each other’s mouths more than they kiss.
She loves him and he loves her.
Theirs is the kind of love they write movies and shows about.
Theirs is the kind of love they write fairytales about.
#my writing#captain swan#temporarystatus#cs fanfic#my fics#captain swan fanfic#captain swan au#season 3 au#cs au#cs ff#and we'll put on a show
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Dates Out of Duty
Edmund Pevensie x Gender-Neutral Reader
Okay, despite the pictures, Y/N is GENDER-NEUTRAL IN THIS FIC!! It is the first time I’ve written a gender neutral reader, and also I have been having horrific writer’s block for about two months, so this fic may not be the BEST. I tried very hard, though 😭😭 I’m sorry.
Also, I do have an Arranged-Marriage-with-Edmund-Pevensie fanfiction on Wattpad- it’s called ‘Alliance’ and it is a series of four books, so please do check that out!!
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Requested by @potatosdragon
‘Hi, could you please write an Edmund pevensie imagine x fem reader where it's about the types of dates he would take you on after an arranged marriage. Thank you sosososossososossosooskks much’
It’s not exactly a list of dates like most fics about this scenario are, I wanted to tell a story of the reader and Edmund’s development as well- plus, the date ideas come from both, not just from Ed. Hopefully it’ll be tolerable! 🥲
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Y/N= Your Name
Y/C/N= Your Country’s Name
Y/P/W= Your Preferred Weapon
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Riding Dates
It’s unfamiliar territory, romantic feelings for each other, but Edmund and Y/N both desperately need some semblance of comfort.
The first date, thus, is familiar territory.
He had learnt that they shared a love for horses very soon after the wedding- when he’d witnessed the delight in his then-affianced’s face upon learning that Y/N’s horse was going to come along as they returned to Narnia.
(Their wedding had taken place in Y/N’s kingdom, as per the agreement of the marriage alliance. Neither of them had smiled once during it. It had been their duty, and that was all. Neither had hoped or thought or even imagined that anything more would come out of doing their duty.)
The date is not the roaring success both hoped for- they had hoped, actually, that once they confessed their feelings for each other, things would get as easy as possible- but it’s not a devastating failure, either.
They have fun, playfully bantering with each other as they rode deeper into the woods- banter that Edmund’s horse, Philip, joined as well- and they attempt to, rather clumsily, kiss while on horseback as well. It makes them laugh, and then soon blush, once it turns out that they were quite good at kissing in even inopportune situations.
The problem comes when it is discovered that the path Edmund had chosen led them much further away than expected and when it is found that Y/N had forgotten to bring along the picnic basket.
Hunger and the fear of getting lost plays havoc on romance, and by the time they manage to return to Cair Paravel, the banter has turned to bickering, despite Philip’s most valiant efforts.
And by the time they return to their shared chambers after supper, anything more than a chaste good-night peck is unthinkable.
Bakery Dates
Y/N and Edmund are not very deterred by the less-than-ideal results of their date in the woods, especially since they wake up the next few mornings snuggled into each other.
It’s hard to stay annoyed when you wake up so comfortable and so warm and in each other’s arms- and, one of these mornings, the royals dawdle in bed for a good two hours before forcing themselves to get up.
They miss breakfast- something that’s usual for Y/N, perpetually a late sleeper, but not for Edmund, because although he loves to sleep in, he also enjoys having breakfast with his family- and so Y/N suggests going into town and to one of the bakeries, for the Just King is known to have quite the sweet tooth.
Edmund says yes, quite happily, and it’s hand-in-hand that the pair walk into the town closest to the castle.
They sample cakes and pastries and some things Y/N can’t pronounce but Edmund can with a funny accent- and the employees in the bakery are all aflutter at serving two Monarchs, and that, too, while they’re on a date!
They settle them in a large corner of the bakery, practically forcing every other customer into the opposite corner- despite repeated requests from the royal couple to treat them as regular folk- and they’re given so much sweet confections that Y/N’s tongue, unused to having such large amounts of desserts, goes numb in the middle of a sweet apple crumble. Edmund is having the time of his life, though, biting into a chocolate gateau and a rose parfait and blueberry cakes, and Y/N gazes at him quite contentedly the entire time- and then the gaze turns mutual and humorous and a bit alarmed, when the head baker packs them enough sweeties and desserts and chocolates to last a few decades.
They both are supposed have meetings that day- one with an envoy from Archenland and the other with a Tarkheena from Calormen- but the meetings are later in the day, and they know that the High King and the Queens of Narnia will happily keep the guests busy on the off-chance they are late.
His siblings are more invested in their relationship than they both are, the Just King feels.
As usual, he’s right, and it’s seen just how right he is at the next Ball.
Reading Dates
But before the Ball, comes winter, and with winter, comes the need to stay warm and cosy.
Especially for Edmund, since he does not deal well with the cold at all.
Y/N isn’t used to the cold, since Y/C/N is a warm country, and so they both have more reason than most to stay indoors during the most biting days of winter.
But they haven’t gone on a date in weeks, and Y/N is fearing that they could go back to the aloofness they had regarded each other with during the beginning of their marriage.
Neither of them wants that- Y/N and Edmund care for each other very deeply, and that’s something that even they, expert at denying feelings, cannot deny.
Hence, Y/N hauls candles and blankets and some of the bakery’s sweets in the middle of winter, in addition to asking the Kitchens to bring up some food and warm drinks.
Lastly, Y/N finds Edmund in his study, wrapped in a thick shawl his mother-in-law gave him, and they walk hand-in-hand to the destination.
In the Library, seated on a cosy couch, half-suffocated by thick blankets, Edmund and Y/N hardly talk. They read quietly in the candlelight, occasionally looking up to grin at each other or hold hands again, and even the meal is had in utterly comfortable silence, broken only at the end of it by Edmund’s declaration that they must have a sleepover in the Library.
Of course, both being the bibliophiles they are, they doubt much sleep will happen- it’s far more likely they’ll read and read and read until they fall asleep reading.
But neither will mind that- and so, Y/N climbs into Edmund’s lap, fishes a book from the pile next to them, and agrees.
Ballroom (And a Bit of Stargazing) Dates
Edmund dances well, and since he’s married, he knows that the one to dance with is his consort. He was the one to suggest they consider the Ball a date for he had no wish to spend the event with anyone apart from Y/N.
Y/N felt the same way, and his suggestion was met with an approving kiss.
Still, his siblings have some insane idea in their heads that the relationship between the two Monarchs needs meddling to grow- and their idea of meddling is to make sure no one else meddles.
And so the rest of the guests at the vibrant New Year’s Ball give the two Monarchs a wide berth throughout the event.
It suits Y/N just fine, because Edmund is easily the only one around who offers comfort as well as conversation, not to mention how fine a dancer he is, to make up for Y/N’s abysmal dancing skills. And even Edmund can’t mind, truly, not when he has his dear consort clasped in his arms, and he sees just how bright and soft Y/N’s smile, aimed at him throughout the night, is.
They spend the Ball dancing and laughing, and occasionally tripping, and they are not away from each other’s embrace for longer than a few minutes.
And then they steal away to the roof of Cair Paravel, and spend the rest of night staring up at the sky, with Edmund pointing out the different constellations in the sky, and Y/N speaking of the stories and fables of Y/C/N that were linked to the stars and the Heavens.
Y/N notices that Edmund’s freckles are like constellations. Edmund notices that Y/N’s eyes shine like the Moon.
They gaze at each other more than they look at the celestial bodies.
And when the fireworks bloom into artificial stars in the sky, a few metres above them- the couple has their lips on each other’s, feeling something deep bloom in their hearts as well.
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Things go sour not long after the Christmas Ball. It’s coming up on five years of marriage- Peter and Susan and Lucy and Y/N’s parents and both their countries were extremely frustrated by how long it’s taking for Y/N and Edmund to confess their love for each other.
But the couple is taking it slow. Neither are the type to fall in love quickly- rather, until each other, they hadn’t thought they would fall in love at all.
It is all wholly new and unexpected- for them- and they hadn’t quite believed what was happening when they’d quietly confessed to each other that they had feelings for the other. It was for that reason that there had been an unspoken agreement, after the confession, to do things slowly.
But the slowness was frustrating more than just the people around them- it was frustrating them, too!
Edmund regularly had to bite his tongue to keep from saying ‘my love’ in almost every single situation and at every moment of the day, but especially he’d come across Y/N be in the training field, eyes shining and sweaty skin glowing, perfecting the use of (Y/P/W).
The ‘I love you’ had been on the top of Y/N’s tongue every time the two Monarchs fell asleep while reading in the Royal Library, and then Y/N would be the one to wake up first, watching Edmund in peaceful slumber.
There are bets going on, in both Cair Paravel and in Y/N’s castle in (Y/C/N).
Peter said that Y/N would say it first, being the more impulsive of the pair.
Susan said that they’d both say it together, because underneath all their emotional unintelligence, there was some understanding and wisdom.
Lucy said it would be Edmund, because once he got over whatever fear was keeping from telling the three not-so-little words, he would surely want to be transparent with his consort, despite the possibility of his declaration being unrequited.
Y/N’s parents, for their part, thought that it would be another five years before the word ‘love’ would come into the conversation, and they said they’d announce their bet in three.
The sourness is not, however, Edmund and Y/N’s fault.
They’re doing quite well, actually, they feel, and they blush rather brightly every time the other’s name is brought up.
Then the Giants attacked.
Y/N spoke heatedly, looking with flashing eyes to the rest of the war council, “I’m going to fight!”
Edmund nodded, “Of course you are, darling, but you must stay here. It’s not safe to travel back to your country-”
No, Y/N wasn’t running back home! Of course not. That was what Peter had assumed for an awkward moment, and Y/N had almost thrown a scroll at his face.
“I need to get my army here, and I need to leave now. Narnia needs support, and it is part of our alliance treaty that our countries come to each other’s aid in the event of war.”
Peter stepped in here, “That’s right. Remember, Narnia has lent its troops to Y/C/N whenever minor scuffles at the border occur-”
“Of course I remember.” His younger brother said calmly, though not feeling calm at all.
His consort wanted to go out of Cair Paravel- which wasn’t safe in the least, as the Giants were camped practically just outside their walls. He couldn’t- he couldn’t risk losing someone he- someone he loved so much.
“We both signed the treaty, need I remind you. But then we can send a Raven to Y/N’s parents, they can-”
“I am the Monarch.” Y/N spoke, cutting across the Just King. There was no anger in Y/N’s voice, but it was simply firmness. “It is because of me that my country will be brought into this War, because I-”
Fell in love with you.
But the treaty had been signed long before that. And Edmund didn’t know that fact!
“Because I married you.”
Edmund swallowed. Y/N was right. There was no one else who could catch his tongue like that, or get him to change his mind.
“Very well.” He said stiffly, and looked to where Lucy was standing, already dressed in armour and looking fiercely warrior-like. “Lu, I’ll be going with Y/N, so I’ll ask Orieus if he may patrol with you instead-”
“No.” Y/N said, once against interrupting him. Somehow, Y/N’s hand was now on Edmund’s arm, and there sprung a need in both to clasp each other’s hand tight.
So, they did.
“Narnia needs you, dearest. I’ll be alright, and I’ll be back soon.”
Edmund gazed into Y/N’s eyes for a long moment, and Y/N gazed back.
The war council moved onto other matters soon, but Edmund and Y/N kept holding hands for the entirety of it- in fact, until they reached the Stables where Y/N’s horse was kept.
“Are you sure you want to leave now?” Edmund queried quietly, as his consort tied some necessities and supplies to end of the horse’s saddle. He’d been the one to have the sense to tell one of the servants to pack for a journey- Y/N was reckless enough to make the journey with nothing useful. “You could leave in the morning-”
“I don’t want to leave, but I have to. Sooner rather than later- you told me once they said that where you come from.” Y/N’s voice was just as quiet.
What if he was right? Well, of course he was right, he always was- but what if the Giants did attack Y/N on the way?
Death was inevitable, it was known- but to die while on the way to help in a War? What sort of Monarch did that?
But the alternative was not helping Narnia. The alternative was letting Edmund and Peter and Lucy and Susan suffer the War on their own.
Y/N turned to Edmund, “Spare Oom, was it?”
He smiled a little, and they neared each other, their arms sliding around each other so they stayed in an embrace for as long as they could.
“Or War Drobe. I’ve heard it both ways.”
He bent his head, and their lips met in a slow, needy, passionate kiss.
“I’ll be safe.” Y/N whispered into the kiss, knowing full well what Edmund would murmur once the embrace broke. “As safe as I can.”
“That’s not very reassuring.” He tried to joke, but it fell flat. They were going to part. Not for long, if they had any luck- but it was war. How often was good fortune found in the middle of battle? “I’ll wait for you.”
“And you best fight in midst of the waiting.” Y/N said- deciding to not ask him to be safe, because he would be. He would. He was a warrior and he was wise- he’d stay alive. “And try to think of better date ideas.”
Edmund smiled in spite of himself, “I’m the one with the good ideas. Yours are more hit or miss.”
Y/N chuckled softly, “Maybe a battle will give me inspiration, then. I’ll think of you anyway- may as well have that thinking be productive.”
“We’ll go on that date the moment the War’s over.” His smile softened, and they kissed once more- one last time.
The kiss lasted another few moments, before they both pulled away- and Y/N climbed onto the horse.
“G-goodbye.” Y/N almost said ‘my love’. “I’ll see you soon.”
Edmund raised his hand in farewell, not trusting himself to speak.
And then, as the horse pulled out of the paddock and just as his consort was almost out of sight- he spoke.
Well, shouted.
“Y/N!” He said, and the horse and her rider both turned.
They weren’t too close to each other, but they were close enough to hear each other.
Steeling himself, and not entirely sure his sanity was intact, he said loudly, “I love you.”
He saw Y/N’s eyes widen, and- then he fancied he saw a smile. His heart was pounding so hard, he was aware of very little except for his heartbeat and his consort’s outline against the sunset.
No- he wasn’t imagining it. He was seeing a smile. Y/N was smiling at him.
But then Y/N tugged on the reins, and the horse galloped away, and Edmund was left alone in the paddock of the Stables.
But at least he had received a smile in exchange for his impulsive declaration of love. It was far better than the rejection he had thought he was sure to get.
Impromptu Dates
Y/N and Edmund did not see each other until the siege of the giants ended two months later. They had news of each other, of course- letters tied to Ravens’ legs and messages delivered by dryads kept them, as well as every regiment fighting the Giants in the north of Narnia informed of what was happening.
And then, in the spring, the Giants surrendered, and High King Peter declared the War won, and he sent Ravens to all corners of Narnia and to the neighbouring lands to inform them of the news.
Y/N had been with Peter during the battles, while Edmund was stationed away, in a part of the land where strategy would be important to win than force. Lucy was with him, but she regularly rode far away to fight other threats that took advantage of the War to attack Narnia as well- while Susan stayed at Cair Paravel, holding down the fort in case the Giants somehow breeched their defences.
But now that the War was over, the Pevensies were to be together again, soon. Very soon, the four hoped.
Sooner than that, though, it Edmund and Y/N that were fated to reunite.
The path that Y/N was to take on the return from Y/C/N to Narnia was, coincidentally, the path that led from the Western Woods to Cair Paravel.
Edmund hadn’t spent the War there, no, but he had gone to check on his domain after it, just in case any of the White Witch’s supporters had come out of the woodwork and had tried to capture the forests once more.
(There hadn’t been anyone in the Western Woods except for one very adorable family of rabbits, and some deer that complimented his choice of swords over a bow and arrow.)
There was a brook nearby, and Y/N had taken off the armour and had washed up in that- not bathing, of course- and had managed to get some drinking water, too, since the water was cool enough. After such strenuous fighting and the wounds afflicted because of it, cold water was a must.
Y/N had decided to keep wearing the soaked tunic, as the wet fabric gave extreme relief to the hot and bruised skin.
As the horse began away from the brook, walking along a path bordered with flowers, Y/N heard something else.
Someone else.
Someone that travelled frequently with the man who had said ‘I love you’ just before their parting- and the man whom Y/N wanted to tell the same to.
It came from a bit far ahead- nearer to the mouth of the brook, where it was more a stream.
Y/N’s eyesight wasn’t the best, but the hearing was- and Philip, Edmund’s horse, had a very loud voice.
“Your Majesty.” The sienna-hued horse’s voice spoke. “Why not a bathe?”
“It’s only half a day to Cair.” Came another voice, and Y/N’s heart soared so high an attack of dizziness came. “I’ll bathe there- and it won’t do to dirty such a clean, pure stream.”
“Edmund!” Y/N shouted, almost falling off the horse.
Climbing properly off her, Y/N ran towards the sounds of the two voices.
”Edmund- Edmund-”
Edmund had his top-armour off, clad in a wet long-sleeved under-shirt, much like Y/N’s, and he had been washing his face and attempting to fill some water into his flash, even though he’d cracked it and water poured out more than it poured in.
At the sound of his consort’s voice, he dropped the flask again, and turned quickly- in alarm and quite a bit of hope.
Y/N flew at him, and they collided together, falling down onto the grass. Their arms stayed around each other, and Edmund kept calling Y/N’s name and Y/N kept calling Edmund’s, though they were clasped tight together, and neither cared that they’d landed half in the water, too.
“You’re here!” Y/N spoke into Edmund’s shoulder, clutching him tight. “What are- how- this isn’t your route-”
“Had to check on the Woods.” Edmund answered, kissing his consort’s cheek.
He was on top, and there was a grin on Y/N's face at the position, and he felt himself blush.
“You’ve been to guide your armies back to Y/C/N, yes? I thought you’d stay home for a few weeks- to rest.”
“I wanted to.” Y/N admitted- as absolutely lovely and beloved as Narnia was, there was no place like home. “But I- I had something to do in Narnia.”
Here, Philip interjected, “Good to see you again, Your Majesty!”
Y/N waved happily at the sarcastic horse, before looking back at Edmund, who was looking curious as he asked, “Official work?”
“Well.” Y/N said, and rolled them around so that their positions revered and Edmund was under. “I had to make a declaration.”
Y/N’s heart was shaking. And there were palpitations. And anxiety. A lot of anxiety. And nerves. And nausea, if one squinted.
But so much love. So much of it. It overwhelmed all else.
“What?”
His question was ignored, and Y/N went on, “And before that, I had to suggest a date idea.”
And then they kissed, beginning too soft and careful- for neither was aware of the other’s injuries- and then ending with gasps and even tighter grips on each other.
Oh, how they wanted to peel off the remaining armour and the wet tunics and make love then and there, having missed each other so painfully much- but Philip was there. They didn’t want to scar him for life- more than they already had. The poor horse had been an unwitting witness to more than one ardent snogging sessions between the two Monarchs- and, in some of those sessions, they had not been very clothed.
It haunted Philip’s nightmares, but it also gave him a lot of material to tease his rider about.
“Was that the idea?” Edmund asked hoarsely, his hand curling into his consort’s hair. He wanted to say those three words again- so, so badly. “A kissing date?”
Y/N’s swollen lips curved into a smile, “Do you mind it?”
“Not at all.” He said, thinking that all the date ideas he had had might have already been beaten- before asking, “But what’s the declaration? If it’s got paperwork, I’ll have to handle it, you know.”
He was very tired. Fighting battles was difficult. Whatever it was, he wanted to get the work done as soon as possible.
“It is a declaration to the Just King. To my darling husband.” Y/N whispered.
Oh, how could a heart possibly feel like it was creeping so high into a throat!? The anxiety was getting unbearable. It was only Edmund’s proximity and his beautiful, dark eyes gazing into Y/N’s that kept an anxiety attack at bay.
“I declare that I am absolutely and besottedly in love with you.”
“Oh.” Well, he certainly didn’t want that over with as soon as possible.
Never, in fact. He wanted it to last forever.
He smiled again, his heart aglow and both their eyes shining, and they pressed their foreheads against each other’s.
“I love you. I love you so much.”
It was the best date ever.
Vow Renewal Dates
A vow renewal ceremony is not a date, Susan tells her brother and sister-in-law repeatedly- but as far as they’re concerned, that’s exactly what it is.
It takes in a lovely meadow of flowers, and they are together, looking radiant and lovely as they gaze at each other- and they hold hands through it all. They tell each other how much they loved each other, and they promise once again to forever be by each other’s side and be joined in the bond of marriage forevermore.
Well, dates usually didn’t have parents and siblings around, but one couldn’t have everything.
They are in love, though. A love they hope would last forever, and if there’s something after that, then even then.
And it may not be everything- but it certainly does feel like it.
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Thank you for reading!
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#narnia#the chronicles of narnia#edmund pevensie#edmund pevensie x reader#king edmund the just#edmund pevensie imagines#skandar keynes#narnia fanfiction#edmund pevensie fanfiction#skandar keynes fanfiction#skandar keynes x reader#edmund pevensie fanfic#arranged marriage#arranged marriage au#request#fic#oneshot#tcon#lww#edmund pevensie fic#edmund x reader#cs lewis
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Welcome to Chapter 1 of my CSSNS23 entry: “An Offer She Can’t Refuse”!
Huge thanks to @undercaffinatednightmare for the gorgeous art, and to @ultraluckycatnd for being the perfect hand-holding beta ❤️.
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48705193/chapters/122860717
An Offer She Can’t Refuse
Chapter One
Emma was standing alone in her dorm’s communal kitchen area when it happened. The first sign of trouble was a prickling feeling from head to toe, causing her whole body to break out in goosebumps.
She was shaking a jumbo box of Milk Duds, impatiently waiting for her popcorn to finish popping so she could combine the two into her favorite salty sweet comfort snack.
The microwave dinged, so she ignored the fine sheen of sweat covering her forehead, calmly pouring the chocolate and caramel drops over the hot popcorn and watching it melt together into gooey goodness.
How is it possible to be both hot and cold at the same time? Emma wondered, willing herself to believe that it could just be a cold — just last month, she had missed out on a spring break trip with her girlfriends because of the flu — so she hurried back to her room, eager to get under the covers and chill out.
That evening, her friend Killian had come over for a long-awaited movie night, which they usually did as a foursome with their respective roommates, Mary Margaret and David. Their friends had been a couple all year, completely smitten since they met on the very first first weekend of the fall semester, and stayed glued at the hip ever since.
Luckily for Emma, they tended to have their sleepovers in David’s room; wherever Killian spent the night, she didn’t really want to know.
That particular evening they’d had to cancel, in order to answer nature’s call: David’s rut arrived three days earlier than expected. The college provided free, on campus Safe Houses for exactly this purpose, but their reservation system was fully booked, leaving them no choice but to pack quickly and speed over to his family’s nearby vacation cabin to ride it out. Emma helped her nervous, excited roommate pack that morning, lending her a large tote bag to fill with all of her most treasured comfort items: a baggy navy hoodie that David presented to her on the first blustery day of fall, a hand-sewn quilt passed down from mother to daughter for five generations, and a small fluffy pillow Emma got her as a birthday present. It was a sunny yellow (Mary Margaret’s favorite color), and had “What’s Up Buttercup?” printed on top.
So four became two, and since Killian won first film pick in a coin toss, that night’s selection was The Godfather.
Her sweaty shakiness had ebbed by the time Emma got back to her dorm room, and she sighed with a deep sense of relief. But when she opened the door to the 12x19 foot space that she and Mary Margaret called home, already dark and movie-ready except for the glow from Killian’s iPhone, she was hit by a wave of scent so intense that it made her feel weak in the knees. It was woodsy, grassy and musky, with a virile boost of testosterone. Despite her crappy mood, it calmed her, sweeping all of her stress away.
Calmed and aroused simultaneously, as it turned out. The air around her felt thick with masculinity, and Emma’s stomach swooped in anticipation.
That wasn’t supposed to happen.
One of Storybrooke College’s biggest selling points was their commitment to making the finest education accessible for Alphas, Betas, and Omegas alike, regardless of designation and gender. Part of that promise involved the school's state-of-the-art filtration system, which neutralized the air in all of the co-ed facilities, including the dorms. The level of scent surrounding Emma shouldn’t have been detectable.
One of the reasons she had chosen this tiny liberal arts college, four hours away from her home in Boston, was so she could focus on her work and finish her undergraduate degree in three years. Emma had big goals: she wanted to become a Social Worker, focusing specifically on advocacy for foster kids who had the chance to avoid growing up like she did. If she intended to stay on track and on-budget (tiny schools weren’t cheap), she needed to keep her head on her work, and away from distractions.
That was why the situation she found herself in that night was so strange; after nearly a year spent living in that dorm, Emma had never picked up such a unique, personal scent other than her own, and damn it was good.
“About time you got back, Swan! I was going to start without— hey, are you alright?” Killian asked, sitting up on her bed as the grin on his face shifted to a concerned look. The deep, raspy timbre of his unused voice caused a shiver to race down Emma’s spine, almost making her drop the bowl. She ground her jaw shut, willing the ventilation system’s scent blockers to kick in.
“Yeah, it’s nothing… Please, just hand me my blanket and pillow backrest thingie, and you try my famous caramel chocolate popcorn,” she muttered, shoving the bowl into his lap in exchange for her stuff. He whined a little at the loss of her comfy bedding, but he knew better than to cross her about it.
Emma did not mess around when it came to pillows and blankets: last September, when the girls on her floor had a “best nest” competition, Emma and Mary Margaret won first place in a fierce competition by completely transforming their room into a scene from 1,001 Arabian Nights. They went all out, decorating the room with gauze-covered hanging lanterns, and nearly covering their floor with colorful lounging pillows and soft cushions. They even served Moroccan Mint tea in glass cups, poured from an authentic-looking tea set Mary Margaret borrowed from the theater department.
Climbing onto Mary Margaret’s bed, Emma cocooned herself in the huge fleece blanket and set her backrest against the wall, sighing peacefully as she sank against the support.
She tried not to notice how the blanket seemed to have absorbed that irresistible, masculine scent into its fibers, surrounding her and overwhelming her senses. But Emma knew she could hold steadfast against the urge to give in to her hormones. Back in high school, she spent too much time kissing frogs: worthless boys who thought dating an Omega meant that she’d be a submissive, sex-crazed robot.
If nothing else, those experiences made Emma Swan an expert at hiding her true feelings and stuffing them deep down inside.
The fact that her entire body was literally and figuratively burning with desire had nothing to do with Killian, who was an Alpha himself. From what she could see in the dark room, he was unaware of her meltdown. She just needed to get through the movie. If she could keep up the charade that all was well, she could see to her own needs once he was safely back on his side of the dorm.
Besides, Emma had heard enough chatter about Killian’s adventurous love life to know that she should steer clear. They had built a good friendship over the school year, and she valued it far too much to ruin things; exactly what would happen if she became another notch on his headboard.
While she couldn’t fully control her body’s reactions at the moment, her brain helpfully reminded her about what he’d told her back in September. Killian wasn’t looking to become a one-woman guy anytime soon, and Emma had no interest in being anyone’s plaything ever again. There was no reason that she couldn’t make it through tonight.
Somehow.
“Shall we watch, then? I still cannot believe you’ve only seen The Godfather once! That’s a bloody crime, Swan— you have to see it as many times as possible in order to really appreciate Coppola’s genius,” Killian quipped smugly, and she glared at the outline of him shaking his head and chuckling at her expense.
Good, she thought to herself. He hasn’t even noticed that I’m freaking out over here, and he doesn’t ever have to know. I can resist this...
“Yeah, ok, Roger Ebert. The deal was that if I watched the whole movie, you’d give the Milk Dud-melted popcorn a legitimate try, so eat up!” Emma sassed, trying to deflect attention from her shaky voice as he clicked through the dvd’s menu.
“You’ve certainly gotten the better end of the deal, love. This popcorn concoction of yours looks fucking disgusting. Do I really have to eat it?” he asked with an exaggerated groan, and Emma almost bit through her lower lip to keep herself from reacting to the sound.
The speed at which her symptoms intensified made Emma’s head spin. In a few short minutes, her world had shrunken down to fit on the head of a pin. The deep-seated Omega instincts within her screamed for what only an Alpha - or the perfectly good silicone toy hidden in her underwear drawer - could provide. Worse, it seemed like her hormones didn’t care if the guy in question was her best friend— as long as both partners were attracted and consenting, Killian had what she needed to get the release she craved.
“Oh, pardon me for sharing my grubby American snack food! You come from a place where they eat stewed tomatoes and animal intestines for breakfast, so do me a favor and shut up so I can concentrate on ‘really appreciating’ Coppola’s genius,” Emma drawled in a terrible impression of his accent, rolling her eyes. He just snickered and clicked the play button, scooping a handful of popcorn out of the bowl.
As the familiar opening music played, Emma focused intently on the screen. She wouldn’t think about the Alpha lounging on her bed, and how his presence was causing her heart to beat so fast that it felt ready to burst right through her chest, Aliens style. Nope, she wouldn’t let herself fall victim to the urges rippling through her body; it was too risky. She couldn’t lose him.
########
The Godfather really was Killian’s favorite movie, but he would’ve suffered through an 24 hour marathon of *The Three Stooges* if it gave him a chance to be alone with Emma Swan.
They had only known each other for a few short months, but from the moment they met — placed in a group together at freshman orientation last August — the two of them just clicked. When their brand new roommates got hot and heavy with each other that first weekend, they both found themselves banished to the common room on Emma’s floor, where they wound up talking for hours. It was one of those friendship-cementing, life-story-sharing bonding sessions that happen so often in college.
As the weeks flashed by, they settled into a reliable, platonic friendship. During their epic talk, Emma confessed that she was on a self-imposed vacation from relationships — a messy breakup with a Beta, some hometown loser called Neal — and to mask his disappointment, Killian embellished his 19 year-old teenager’s fantasy of being a ladies’ man.
He instantly regretted his words when her beautifully expressive face shut down, so he quickly changed the subject and cracked cheesy jokes to get a smile out of her. From then on, Killian made sure they never broached the topic again, and by the fall semester’s end, they had developed a platonic bond that he treasured far more than any hookup.
Of course, that didn’t mean he’d ever stopped wanting her.
Emma never had to know that she starred in his dreams every night, but Killian wasn’t sure she’d even care. At first, it really wounded his inner Alpha’s pride that she never seemed *into* him, but Emma was complicated like that: combative one day, and cuddly the next.
Besides, he could never stay away from her for long, especially when she drank just enough to get tipsy, and she’d snuggle into his side, sliding close enough to scratch her fingers through his hair. Pathetically, he lived for these brief intimate moments, when he could inhale her fruity shampoo and a wisp of her muted scent, imagining that she was his.
One thing was for certain: she wasn’t like other girls at school, nor was she like any other Omega Killian had known in his life. Emma Swan was in a class all her own, and full of contradictions: she possessed uncommon beauty and fierce intelligence, but she could be stubborn as a mule and prickly as a pineapple. By earning her trust, he’d become one of the few allowed to know that beneath her tough exterior beat an incredibly soft and generous heart. The more time he spent in her company, from late night diner study breaks to pre-party drinking sessions with their group of friends, the more enamored he became.
Most of their fellow freshmen were living away from home for the first time in their lives, so they were more than happy to unleash, experiment, and play. Killian, along with his buddies Rob, August, and Phillip, partied almost every weekend of the fall semester, and more often than he cared to admit, he’d wake up the next morning in a random girl’s bed.
That ladies’ man lie he’d told Emma had become his reality, but he didn’t feel good about it, and he was damn lucky he hadn’t called anyone by her name. Yet.
Since there were seemingly no secrets at Storybrooke College, when word spread that Killian Jones knew exactly how to please a lady, a legend was born all on its own.
All of that female attention, along with his self-proclaimed “dashing rapscallion” nature, had earned him admiration from fellow Alphas at SBC, but it was all a ruse. In private, he tried to keep a careful distance from the women he slept with, paying more attention to their satisfaction than his own, and never engaging with an Omega in heat. Part of him felt guilty, like he was leading them on; after all, it wasn’t their fault that was hung up on Emma Swan.
Killian was raised to always strive to be a man of honor, so he never promised anyone more than he could give.
So he waited, caught in a holding pattern between the undeniable pull of Alpha ego-stroking and his lovesick puppy dog feelings for Emma, unsure if she would ever return them. In the meantime, he contented himself with her friendship, hoping that eventually she’d see him in a different light.
######
For a solid half hour, everything was normal, and the Corleone family wedding unfolded on Emma’s small, battered tv screen like it always did. As the sequence ended with father and daughter waltzing to the movie’s theme music, Emma suddenly seized up with a burning pain deep in her pelvis. Struggling for breath, she tried to hide her discomfort by burrowing further into her blanket.
Immediately, the film paused and her tiny bedside light clicked on, illuminating Killian’s worried expression in the otherwise dark room.
“Swan? Are you alright over there?” he asked, and she tried to say something to reassure him, but another flash of pain made her dig her fingernails into her palms to keep from crying out. She couldn’t speak without sounding desperately needy, so she clamped her mouth shut and breathed through her nose.
Killian was aware that something was off about Emma from the minute she walked into the room that night, but now the problem was glaringly obvious: the ventilation in her room was on the fritz. Her sweet scent, usually muted by the system, beckoned— the sudden seismic jolt of lust that rolled over him meant that Emma was starting an intense heat phase. If he was truly her friend, and a man of honor, he’d get out of her way as soon as possible.
Why couldn’t he tear himself away, then?
Suddenly, Emma sat up with a shocked expression on her face. Her eyes squeezed shut and then she shook her head, as if she was trying to clear the fog from her brain.
“Shit, no wonder I’m feeling all out of whack…I left my pills in the bag I lent to Mary Margaret for the weekend!” Emma yelped with embarrassment, as a flush crept from her chest all the way up to her face. Quickly, the sweaty-shivering feeling was back, and it continued to increase in intensity right alongside a narrowing of her focus to one thing: Alpha.
“I don’t mean to pry, love, but are those pills of yours suppressants?” Killian asked her gently, and even though she was purposefully looking away, she could still feel his gaze burning into her.
“Um, I’m not exactly sure? I’ve been taking them since I was 13, and I was too embarrassed to ask anyone at the group home — even the doctor who gave them to me — about woman-type stuff. I never missed a dose before!” Emma admitted, feeling flustered and ridiculous.
She sucked in a breath when it dawned on her: the medicine she thought she was only taking to regulate her cycle had also dramatically reduced the intensity of her quarterly heats for the past six years. Most of the other Omega girls at school constantly complained about symptoms and urges that drove them mad, but Emma figured she was just lucky.
Apparently not. How could she have been so clueless?
“Six years? That’s an awfully long time, Emma. Maybe you should call the health center, you know, check in with them about side effects and erm…” he trailed off, his face heating up as he searched his brain for the right words.
She shifted uncomfortably on her roommate’s bed, full of nerves in Killian’s presence. Most of their guy friends were Alphas too, but Emma didn’t usually give it much thought. David was around so often that she considered him more of a brother figure, or an extension of Mary Margaret. It was similar to her neutral feelings about Rob, or August, or any of the other guys in their circle; they were only friends, nothing more.
“Ugh Jones, you know I don’t like that place! The doctor over there is always so creepy,” Emma deflected with a pout, pulling her hair up into a messy bun.
With Killian, everything had always been different, in the best way. Emma wanted to be with him: they could spend hours in each other’s company, talking about anything under the sun without getting bored, or just studying together in comfortable silence. Now that she thought about it, she was always happier when he was around, more open and affectionate than she’d been with anyone else in her life.
It wasn’t until tonight that Emma knew she’d have no problem letting him help her through this little hiccup in her cycle.
At the same time, he was probably the closest thing she’d ever had to a best friend, other than Mary Margaret. They just understood each other. How could she ever risk that friendship over something as trivial as sex?
But oh…imagining what it would be like to be together in that way, sharing that physical and emotional connection with him, made her tremble with a heightened sense of anticipation. She needed him to quench the flames rising inside of her.
Unbidden, an image of them in bed, sweaty and sated and intimately tied together, formed in her mind.
It was simple biology: Statistically, Alphas and Omegas had the best chance of conceiving children together. Omegas were born with enhanced fertility, and when combined with a natural lock binding them together (aka: an Alpha’s knot) was Mother Nature’s way of stacking the deck.
Advances in birth control made it possible for couples to decide when they wanted to have children, but no method was guaranteed. Emma didn’t want to leave anything to chance, so dating Beta men exclusively was her way of decreasing biology’s advantage.
With such a jumble of thoughts crowding her brain, Emma almost missed that her sharpened sense of smell picked up another pheromone overload in the room.
Could it be possible that he felt the same way about her?
She licked her lips at the thought of kissing him for real, causing her gut to clench. What would it be like to be with him? Emma played it out in her mind; surely it would be more than satisfying. From the gossip she’d heard, Killian was a sure bet, always knowing what women wanted. What would his hands feel like on her body? His presence loomed large in the tiny room, and it took all of her self control not to jump onto her bed and kiss the hell out of him.
How would he react? She had a feeling she would soon find out.
####
“Earth to Emma! Will you say something, please?” Killian asked, the alarm in his voice pulling her out of her reverie. At some point during her freakout, he had crossed the twelve feet of space between the beds and pulled out her roommate’s desk chair, sitting close by but not invading her space. Emma was instantly relieved by the gesture, reminding herself that Killian was the guy she’d grown to depend on, not some brute who only saw a sweet-smelling Omega he could use to satisfy his basest urges.
“I’m scared, Killian,” she admitted, feeling so hot and sweaty that she had to force herself to unwrap the blanket from her body. “This has never happened to me before! What if I can’t control myself, or some random Alpha picks up on what’s going on, and he tries to force me to — ugh, I don’t know! Maybe I should call Mary Margaret, and see if I can just pick up my pills from her,” she fretted, twisting a corner of the fleece in her grip nervously.
“I understand,” he soothed, interrupting her anxiety spike. “You’ve got to breathe, though, because you're going to hyperventilate if you keep this up. Can you do that for me first, Swan?”
Emma listened to him, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths. Soon enough, her heartbeat slowed back to its regular rhythm, and even though the warm hand he’d tentatively placed on her back sent electric sparks down her spine, his reassuring touch made her feel safe and grounded.
Once he was sure that the worst had passed, Killian began to speak again, unsure of how she’d react.
“The trouble is, Emma, that David and Mary Margaret are about an hour’s drive from here. If you still want to go and get your pills, I’m happy to drive you. But if you’d rather stay here and ride it out, I’ll say it right now: I won’t leave you unprotected,” Killian told her bluntly. Emma looked utterly confused until her muffled brain picked up his meaning. She was livid.
“Oh, are you going to stand outside my door and defend my honor? Believe me, I can handle myself just fine, Jones,” she seethed, spitting his name out like poison as she launched herself to her feet. He watched, speechless as she tugged on the doorknob, exposing their private little world to the whitewashed concrete and fluorescent-lit hallway.
“I think you should just leave for a little while.”
He flinched at her cold tone, but Killian had enough sense to risk trying to dominate her. Clearly, Emma needed her space — he knew she’d want to get back in full control of herself as soon as possible — but there wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d stand by and watch her drive alone, especially in her disoriented state.
It didn’t help matters that they’d been in her room for a while, so he was completely surrounded by Emma’s lovely scent, which had always reminded him of the summer sun, mixed with sweet melon and tart strawberries. That night, it had a more sensual, muskier edge than he was used to, so instead of feeling happy and comfortable like he usually did in her presence, he could barely resist the urge to bury his face in her neck.
In general, Killian was pretty confident in his ability to control himself, but he had no idea how much longer he could physically stand being in the same room with Emma that night. His purely Alpha desire to possess and mark her could send them spiraling down a friendship-ending path.
“If that’s what you really want, I’ll go,” he said quietly, lifting himself up off Emma’s bed. He waited for her to say something, but she just gestured toward the door, her green eyes unreadable.
“I’d really appreciate that, at least for a little while,” she admitted, and the shaky breathiness in her voice both raised his protective hackles and sent a jolt of lust surging through his blood.
He needed to leave the room.
“Of course, Swan. I won’t go far, so if you need anything, just text or call and I’ll come right back. And if you decide that you’d like to drive out, just say the word and I’ll pick you up, ok?” he assured her calmly as he walked through the open door, even though his insides were churning with nervous energy. She just nodded, sagging against the wall. Her eyes were glassy, like she’d been drugged.
Killian had been with enough women of Emma’s type to know that when they got that glazed look, their instincts could overrule their rational brains at any time. There had to be at least a hundred other Alphas in their dorm alone, and he knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill any one of them if they dared to take advantage of her in such a vulnerable state.
He needed to call Elsa, and quickly.
———-
The phone seemed to ring forever, and by the time someone picked up the line, Killian was practically tearing his hair out.
“Little brother, why are you calling so late? Everything alright?” Liam’s voice, usually so welcome to his ears, sounded like nails scraping against chalkboard to someone as keyed up as Killian was at that moment.
“I’m fine, just put me on with your wife. Please,” he begged through gritted teeth, hating the pathetic cracking in his voice.
“You don’t sound fine,” Liam observed casually, as if he was across the room and not 3,000 miles away. “Are you on drugs?”
“LIAM! I called Elsa, not you. If she’s there, put her on the bloody phone,” he growled. Moments later, his sister-in-law’s calming voice came onto the line.
“Killian? Tell me what’s wrong,” she soothed, and the buildup of adrenaline began to drain from his bloodstream as fast as it had rushed in, leaving him feeling depleted and foolish. He sagged down onto a park bench, head in his hands as he cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear.
“Elsa, I need your advice. I have a very close friend who needs my help, you know? Problem is, she’s a skittish lass, and I don’t know if I can give her what she needs without ruining the friendship. On the other hand, the thought of anyone else touching her makes me feel sick. What should I do?”
A soft chuckle floated across the line, and he exhaled with relief, knowing that Elsa needed no further explanation.
“Well, it sounds like you care about this girl quite a lot. We’re talking about your friend Emma, right?” Elsa guessed, the gentle teasing in her voice already helping to calm his anxiety.
“Yes, h-how did you know?” he asked, his voice stuttering in disbelief.
“Besides the fact that Emma is the only woman I’ve ever heard about for the entire time you’ve been at school? If your roles were reversed, and she offered to help you through a rut, would you take the risk?”
Killian didn’t even need to think about his answer. “In a bloody second! It would be amazing, but I already know that I’m mad for her. Emma hasn’t ever wanted anything but friendship from me, and it feels an awful lot like I’d be taking advantage.” he told his sister-in-law, as his heart pounded with uncertainty.
“Killian, I know that time is of the essence here, so I’ll be crystal clear: Calm down, give Emma the space to decide what she wants, then follow her lead! Trust me, her reaction will clear up any questions about where you stand in her mind. It doesn’t sound to me like she’s going to freeze you out,” she assured him, and after thanking Elsa profusely and apologizing again for calling them so late, he hung up.
Almost immediately, his phone buzzed with a new text from Emma:
*I’m really sorry for kicking you out. If you’re still ok with driving up to David’s place, then I’d like to go with you.*
Killian clutched the phone in his hand, almost giddy at the thought of finally being free to kiss and touch and care for Emma the way she deserved. Self doubt still plagued his soul, and he knew that getting this close to her without knowing how she felt about him was a gamble, but it was his choice. The privilege of being there for Emma was its own reward, and it would be worth the risk.
####
As his truck barreled down the uneven road that marked the final leg of their journey to David’s cabin, Killian winced every time the rocky terrain made Emma gasp or cry out in discomfort. He couldn’t read her expression since she was still curled up in her fleece cocoon, but each agonizing sound tore into his soul.
Killian knew how simple it would be for him to relieve her pain, but he was still worried that she’d interpret that offer as a violation of their friendship, and hate him for even suggesting such a thing.
“I’m so sorry, love. We’ll be there soon, I promise,” he assured her, reaching his right hand out to give her what was meant to be a comforting squeeze. The moment his hand made contact with her blanketed body, with the cool touch of his fingers so close to her heated skin, Emma tore the blanket away, breathing heavily. Her blonde hair floated around her like a gorgeous mess, her skin was flushed crimson, and the look in her eyes nearly made him slam on the brakes in the middle of the road.
“Killian, you’ve got to pull over, right now!” she heard herself tell him, but her voice sounded like it was detached from her being. The strange, searing pain actually freed her from all inhibitions, leaving her in a puddle of feelings and primal urges that blew common sense right out the window.
All she knew for sure was that Killian was right there, and he was all she could think about. The way their scents mingled together in the truck’s cabin caused all of her other senses to light up, like she was a fuse ready to blow at any second.
“What’s wrong, love? Need some fresh air?” Killian asked as he pulled off to the side of the road and turned on the hazard lights. He knew that she probably felt extremely vulnerable, but had no idea what was going on inside that head of hers.
He did not expect to see Emma sizing him up with that lusty Omega stare, her eyes blazing a brilliant shade of green. The sight made him gasp in astonishment, a sound that he tried, unsuccessfully, to cover with a cough.
Emma spoke in a clear, confident voice.
“Killian, listen to me. I’ve been trying to ignore or will these feelings away, but every cell in my body is telling me exactly how to take care of the pain. It’s telling me that I need you…Alpha,” she admitted. Her voice shook as she used his title for the first time.
Her words stoked a fire in his belly that could easily turn into an inferno.
Killian hadn’t expected to hear her say those words…ever. He put the car back in drive, veering further off from the track-marked road, and parked. As the engine idled, Killian squeezed his eyes shut, wracking his brain for a solution that didn’t end with him giving into temptation. *This isn’t some random hookup, it’s Emma. If she was in her right mind, this wouldn’t be happening, mate* he told himself, cracking his eyes open as he took a deep breath to get his wits about him.
It wasn’t his best idea. The sweet scent from her heat had intensified, awakening a primal instinct in his brain and making his head swim with lust. He shifted in his seat, instantly hard as a rock. When she looked at him, he could tell that she knew exactly what he was thinking. Emma just smirked as she licked her lips.
“You can feel it too, can’t you, Alpha? I know you want me…I can practically taste it in the air. I want you too,” Emma told him breathlessly, in what was probably the most seductive whisper he’d ever heard.
“I’m honored that you’d consider me worthy of that kind of trust, Emma, truly,” he said gently, taking one of her hands in his and threading their fingers together.
“But are you certain? Completely sure?” Killian’s voice, while still quiet, sounded raspy and more urgent, like he was ready to do anything she desired of him.
“Yeah,” she breathed, nodding, and before he knew it, Emma had unlocked her seatbelt and closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to his for the first time. Her lips were softer than he could have ever imagined, and their mouths fit together as perfectly as he had always hoped they would. Adorably, she still tasted like popcorn and chocolate.
By the time they pulled apart for air, Emma had somehow straddled the console, getting halfway across and into his lap. They were pressed even closer together by the truck’s oversized steering wheel.
With a growl, Killian wrenched the seat back an extra couple of inches and lifted her the rest of the way, touching his forehead to hers as their breathing slowed.
“I guess we don’t need to bother David and Mary Margaret after all!” Emma giggled, brushing her hair out of her face before setting her hands on his shoulders.
“Trust me, they wouldn’t want to see what I have in store,” Killian replied with a devilish grin, reaching for her yet again. Their kisses grew deeper, and Emma raked her fingers through his hair while Killian’s hands roamed over every square inch of her body that he could reach, squeezing her ass with a satisfied groan. She responded by grinding herself against his lap, looping her arms around his neck as she went faster.
“Please…oh God, I want to come. Touch me, talk to me,” she moaned against him, bucking her hips faster to increase the friction. He nodded, kissing her exposed neck all the way up to a spot behind her ear that he had already chosen as his favorite.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, Emma…I can’t wait to see you fall apart,” he whispered harshly against her ear, sliding his palm up her thigh and under her shorts before slipping two fingers into her heat, pumping and curling them in rhythm with her gyrations. She felt so perfectly tight and wet with slick that he had to restrain himself from rutting against her, choosing instead to press his nose against the flesh of her throat, breathing her in while focusing on her body. Emma mewled with pleasure, clawing her fingers across his back.
“Yes…Keep talking, Alpha, please!” she urged, riding his fingers in the narrow space.
“Feeling you against me makes me want to rip all your clothes off... I can see it right now, you naked and writhing against me while I’m deep inside you, filling you up. Is that what you want, Omega? Because I want you, have always wanted you, so badly…” he rasped, and she exploded seconds later, clenching hard against his fingers and coating them in her essence. She was unrestrained, shouting his name and his title as she shivered and shook in his arms.
It took a while for Emma to float back down to reality, so while she rested, he gently withdrew his fingers and licked them clean, unable to resist getting a taste of her sweetness. As she came back to herself, she could feel the soft press of Killian’s lips against her collarbone, near the scent gland all Omegas had right under the skin. It felt like the gland itself pulsed with its own energy, and when Emma pressed her fingers there, the whole patch of skin was raised and surprisingly fiery to the touch.
“Killian, I don’t know what’s going on! Feel here— it’s really hot, so be careful,” she fretted anxiously, cringing when he touched the pad of his index finger gently against her skin.
Instead of freaking out, he just waggled his eyebrows and flashed her a cheeky smile. But when the fear in her eyes didn’t go away, Killian’s expression softened.
“All that it means, Emma, is that your system is functioning exactly as it’s supposed to,” he told her, stroking her cheek. She smiled and nuzzled into his touch, but as she tipped forward to kiss him, the slight shift of her weight in his lap caused a deep groan to rumble up from Killian’s throat.
“Shit! I’m so sorry, Killian, I was caught up in the moment and I didn’t think-” she started to apologize, guilt written across her face.
“It’s not a problem, love. I’m the one helping you, so I’ll likely not go without,” he teased, and the look on his face — a bit of sheepishness disguised by a rogue’s smile — made Emma giggle, sighing with relief.
“That’s very true, although I might have put it a little differently!” Emma chided him with a playful smack on his chest, and they grinned dopily at each other, hair hopelessly mussed, and still reeling from the high of their new bond.
“So, while you’re still sated and lucid, we should talk about where we’re going to spend the next couple of days,” Killian suggested, reaching past her to grab his phone from the console. Feeling a bit self conscious now that the urgency had passed, Emma gave him a peck on the lips and scrambled back over to her seat.
“Killian, are you crazy? You can’t just drop everything for me!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise.
“Of course I can, Swan!” Killian scoffed, but when he looked up from his phone, the welling of tears in her eyes reminded him of how vulnerable she was feeling and how big a step this was for them both. “To be there with you, to aid you, would be my honor.”
She smiled, pressing her lips together as a rosy blush bloomed on her cheeks.
He reached over, taking her hand in his. “Emma, unless you send me away I will always be by your side, whenever you need me. Please, don’t ever doubt that,” he told her, bringing her knuckles to his lips without breaking their eye contact. She held his gaze, nodding as a shy smile played across her lips.
“I won’t, I promise,” she said quietly, almost in a whisper, but an intrusive chiming sound sent her scrambling for her purse. Killian was dying to know who had interrupted them, but not wanting to seem overprotective — even though his skin practically itched with the desire to knock the phone out of her hand, carry her into the back of his truck, and claim her as his own — he turned his attention back to his online search.
“Oh, it’s Mary Margaret! Guess the reception in this area isn’t so bad after all, buddy,” she teased, gently poking him in the ribs with her elbow. He grunted in reply, her light touch reigniting the spark of desire he no longer had to hide from her.
“She said that she’s got my stuff, and that we can come right over. What do you think?” Emma asked, her tone sounding conflicted.
“Honestly, I’d rather keep you right here, and preferably much closer,” he teased, squeezing her thigh with a wicked grin. “But will you need your pills for any, ahem, more amorous pursuits?”
Emma snorted at his euphemism, like she always did when teasing him about using big fancy words.
“Amorous pursuits, huh? No, I have an IUD for that, but I’ve never been off those pills,” she said, furrowing her brow as she thought it over. “But if they’re meant to suppress, wouldn’t they mute the things I’m feeling now too? I don’t think I want to go back, not if it means giving this up,” Emma said saucily, taking a moment to tap out a quick reply to her roommate before grabbing his face and pulling him toward her for the most aggressive kiss she had ever given anyone, tangling her tongue with his, and catching his lower lip with her teeth so she could nip it playfully.
Giving herself over to the desire to possess him, like he was hers, seemed to unlock an entirely new world to explore. Every touch and kiss felt more intense, and knowing that he trusted her enough to let her play, testing his boundaries, was more of a turn-on than either of them expected. “Did you know that this truck has a fully collapsible backseat?” Killian told her, sounding absolutely wrecked when they pulled apart to catch their breath. Emma chuckled, running her fingers through his already messy hair.
“Exactly what kind of girl do you think I am, Jones?” she asked wide-eyed, pulling herself out of his embrace. Killian opened his mouth to reply, but all words flew out of his mind when Emma rose up to kneel on her seat, reaching back to unclasp her bra. He watched, entranced, as the white straps began to slip down her shoulders.
“I think,” he began slowly, choosing his words carefully as he hooked his thumbs through each strap, tugging them the rest of the way down her arms as she gasped. “I think that I’m one lucky bastard to have such a sexy, gorgeous woman in my truck. And you’ve got your Alpha all alone in the woods, willing and ready to do your bidding. That means you should feel free to share every dirty little desire you can imagine, so that I can do whatever it takes to keep you satisfied,” he told her huskily, gratified to see her shiver.
Emma just stared at him hungrily, letting her bra drop down onto the seat. Her white tank top left barely anything to the imagination; it was just a flimsy piece of nearly sheer cotton that barely concealed her taut nipples, straining against the fabric as they were.
“Like my own personal, hmm...boy toy?” she teased, leaning against the console on her elbows to give him an eyeful of her cleavage. His jaw slackened at the sight of her heaving chest, all of that flushed, soft skin pushed up by her forearms.
He wanted to bury his face right there and her smirk confirmed that she knew it, so he raised one cocky eyebrow. “I assure you, love, I am anything but a boy…”
She chuckled, hopping into the back and beckoning for him to join her. Emma barely had time to grab her blanket to spread over the backseat before he opened the door and lunged for her, nearly ripping her top and shorts off in his urgency to feel more of her. She yelped, dragging him forward so he could shut the back door and release whatever mechanism was responsible for flattening the backseat rests. They toppled back with a bang, and Killian clutched her to his chest, an overwhelming instinct to protect her overriding every other thought in his head.
“Killian, it’s starting to hurt again,” she whimpered, looking at him with wide eyes full of desire and fear. He couldn’t help himself, bending his head to kiss her gently, trying to chase away even a fraction of her discomfort.
“Don’t worry, love,” he murmured tenderly, helping her to lie down comfortably before shucking his shirt and jeans off and throwing them into the front seat. “Just let me take care of you first, and then we’ll decide what happens next together, yeah?”
She nodded as he settled next to her, silently placing her trust in his hands as she cupped his face in hers. The look in her eyes caused his heart to swell with pride, but the jumble of anticipation and nerves made him freeze up for a moment, unsure of what to do first. Luckily, Emma acted on instinct, parting her thighs and panting his name, and Killian was drawn in like a magnet, tangling his fingers in her hair as he kissed her. Tongues dueling for control, their kisses grew frantic and he pressed even closer, groaning at the feeling of her breasts pressed against his bare chest.
“You’re so warm, Alpha. I want you inside me so badly…” she crooned, hooking her thigh over his hip, her desire to be joined clear from the slick that soaked through her underwear to run freely between her thighs. Killian clenched his jaw, trying to hang on to a scintilla of control instead of mindlessly plowing into her. That thread snapped when she reached into his boxers and stroked his cock with a firm grip, tugging the cotton down his hips with her free hand.
“This belongs to me now,” she rasped, continuing to pump his length as she swiped her thumb over the sensitive tip, smirking triumphantly when he shook with a groan he was too far gone to suppress.
“Bloody fuck, Omega, you’re impossible to resist a second longer..” he growled possessively, and with one last nod from her, he ripped her underwear from her body and eased his way inside her, filling her up until they were both left cursing and gasping with relief.
“Oh my God, this is perfect. You feel so perfect,” Emma purred contentedly as unexpected tears gathered in her eyes. Eager to get even closer, she locked her ankles against his lower back, using her legs to draw him in just a little deeper.
“You…you’re the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met, Emma,” he breathed, wiping a few errant tears off her cheeks. He shifted his hips experimentally within the limited range of motion he had available. Every slight movement had her making the most delicious sounds, lubricating his cock in her impossibly warm depths.
Killian wasn’t quite sure if she was holding him in like that for physical or emotional reasons, so he guessed it was probably a mix of the two. Since he had promised to be there for whatever Emma needed, it didn’t matter; he didn’t intend to let her down.
“There’s something I never told you,” she whispered after a few moments had passed, unwinding her ankles and letting her knees fall open. A simple roll of her hips told him that it was ok to start moving, but he kept his thrusts shallow, enjoying the sweetness of her scent and the press of her skin against his.
“You can me anything,; I’m right here, Omega,” he assured her, pressing their foreheads together as their bodies rose and fell in rhythm. The fact that she was letting him care for her this way meant so much more than he could have ever imagined.
Emma began her confession haltingly, trying to find the right words. “It’s just that, well— I’ve never been knotted before. I never wanted it before, but… but with you, it’s like I need it, desperately,” she admitted, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Look at me, Emma, please,” he croaked, going still inside of her. When their eyes locked, he kissed her, gently biting her bottom lip when he pulled away. He began moving again, lengthening his strokes as he gradually increased their pace.
“There is nothing I want more than to give that to you, love, but not in the truck,” he told her, almost apologetically. “I’ve never experienced anything like this before, honestly. Maybe it’s because of you and your insatiable need, hmm….”
She whimpered, grinding her pelvis against his. Her fingers threaded through his hair as she kissed him deeply, eventually dragging him down closer to her chest.
Eagerly, he kissed his way across the valley between her breasts, biting down on a stiff nipple with each pass. His worship of her body nearly drove Emma over the edge again, her pants turning into staccato cries as she thrashed beneath him.
“Fuck, your tits are perfect, just like the rest of you…” he muttered, lowering himself to his forearms so he could squeeze each one, sucking her nipples and gently biting the rounded flesh like he wanted to brand her with his mark.
“Harder, I can take it… I’m so, so close, Alpha!” she cried out, gripping his biceps so hard that her fingernails nearly cut into his skin.
Killian grunted, using the pain to help him concentrate on pounding into her like she wanted, while trying to stave off his knot.
He didn’t want her first experience of that particularly mind-numbing pleasure to happen in the backseat of his truck.
“Are you gonna come for your Alpha? Show me how hard you can squeeze my cock,” he rumbled, feeling his orgasm start to build as a gush of her slick coated his base.
“Ohmigod…Alpha…YES!!” Emma screamed, clamping down tight on his cock as she launched into the stratosphere, her orgasm last longer than she’d ever experienced before.
He followed with a shout moments later, filling her up with his release as her aftershocks fluttered against his sensitive skin.
“Killian, that was amazing,” Emma purred as he rolled to the side, scooping her into his arms. She had a wide, lazy smile on her face as she burrowed tightly against his side, scratching her fingers through his chest hair.
“I think we make quite the team,” he told her fondly, kissing the top of her head. He let his head fall back onto the blanket, looking up at the truck’s ceiling. “I can hardly wait to get you into a nice big bed, and show you all of the other ways I can get you to come.”
The way his voice lowered seductively sent a surge of arousal straight to her core. Emma felt a wave of slick dampen her thighs, surprised that she could want his body again so soon.
“Where should we go? I want to have you again, already — maybe in the shower…” she suggested, grabbing his wrist and brushing his fingers against her brand new wetness.
Killian groaned when he felt the slick between her thighs, almost thrown into a mindless sex haze himself at the thought of how full of their combined releases her channel was.
He allowed himself the indulgence of slipping one finger into her dripping center, dying to find out what they tasted like together.
“We’re so fucking good together, Omega, just like I knew we would be — tastes like nectar from the gods. Take a taste, then we’re getting dressed. There may be an available room back at school by now.” he told her, gently slapping her ass before they sat up.
Emma grabbed his finger and drew the tip into her mouth, sucking experimentally.
She’d given a couple of blowjobs to Neal back in high school, and she remembered swallowing quickly, disliking the bitter aftertaste.
With Killian, she was sure it’d be much better, and she was right; the fluid was sweet and pleasantly salty, like the ocean on a sunny day. She darted her tongue out, and was licking his finger clean when she caught a glimpse of him staring at her, transfixed.
“You’re a real minx, aren’t you, Swan? C’mere,” he beckoned, his lopsided grin making her feel warm inside.
Emma shuffled a few inches over on her knees, and was rewarded with a passionate, mind-numbing kiss. It left her in a daze, accepting the clothes he handed her and dressing herself like her brain was on autopilot.
#####
***CHAPTER 2 COMING SOON***
Thanks and hugs to my CSMM enablers 😏
Tag list (happy to add or delete on request): @kmomof4, @undercaffinatednightmare @ultraluckycatnd @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @jonesfandomfanatic @caught-in-the-filter @hollyethecurious @holdingoutforapiratehero @mie779 @booksteaandtoomuchtv @the-darkdragonfly @sailtoafarawayland @djlbg @eddisfargo
#cssns23#cs ff#cs au#captain swan#alpha beta omega#omegaverse#a/b/o universe#ouatedit#cs fanfic#cs smut#best friends to lovers#alpha!killian#omega!emma#no werewolves#some angst#cs whump#happily ever after
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Fields of Freedom - Chapter 2.
SUMMARY: In a twist that even her inner circle couldn't predict, Emma abandons the urban hustle for the enchanting embrace of farm life, spurred by an unexpected inheritance. Armed with determination but little agrarian know-how, she enlists the help of her mysterious neighbor, Killian Jones. What starts as a simple offer of farming expertise blossoms into a harvest of support that neither Emma nor Killian saw coming. Turns out, amid the sprawling fields, it's Killian who secretly yearns for a helping hand in the delicate dance of life.
Words: 7k
TW: domestic violence
Chapters: 2/2
Buy me a coffee if you like :)
Read on: AO3 or FF.net
Tagging some people who might be interested: @anmylica @elfiola @zaharadessert @gingerchangeling @undercaffinatednightmare @jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @mie779 @winterbaby89 @tiganasummertree @stahlop @rylieblu @ultraluckycatnd @eddisfargo @booksteaandtoomuchtv @laianely @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @captainswan-kellie
#captain swan#cs ff#killian jones#emma swan#once upon a time#ouat#ouat ff#emma x killian#captain hook#cs#cs fanfic#cs fanfiction#modern au#farmer Killian#city girl Emma#niki writes#FoF
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Return To Me - Chapter 4
A/N: It was requested I post this here, as well, so here ya go! (Sorry if I double tagged anyone.) I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thank you endlessly to anyone still following this story. You have all my love.
Summary: Emma Swan is dying. Her last remaining hope is a heart-transplant, and those aren't easy to come by. But, as luck would have it, fate finds her worthy, and on a stormy autumn night, Emma is given a second chance at life.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Boston hospital, Killian Jones has been devastated by the sudden loss of his wife.
Inspired by the 2000 film of the same title with Minnie Driver and David Duchovny.
Find on A03 here
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Chapter Four - Don't Get Around Much Anymore
Three Weeks Post-Op
Emma had been called a cynic plenty of times in her life. As it turned out, being pushed through the foster system for a decade and a half hadn’t exactly turned her into a beaming optimist. Like most cynics, she claimed she was actually a realist. She planned for the worst, because things tended to not work out that great for her, and hoped for the best. Sometimes she was pleasantly surprised.
But in the litany of potential outcomes Emma had been preparing herself for, a new heart had never actually made the list. It was akin to winning the lottery, in her mind. Life had not been particularly kind to her. Yet, she had always taken her blows in stride, and she never took handouts. And the prospect of finally making it to the top of the transplant list at the age of twenty-six, after almost a decade of waiting, felt like a handout from life.
Emma Swan had never been one to sit around waiting for handouts.
There were other things she had prepared herself for. Increasing the handful of pills she took each day to keep her body from failing on her any faster. Moving from her full time job and supporting herself completely on her own to working part time, then very part time, to not at all. Getting on a government disability program. Each new punch to the gut from life she took in stride, as best she could.
And through it all, righting her each and every time she stumbled, were David and Mary Margaret. They were some of the best, most genuine and caring people ever to be placed on planet earth. She didn't deserve them—there was a small, cruel voice in the back of her head that affirmed this for her every day. But they just kept showing up for her, and they wouldn’t leave, and they wouldn’t let her quit.
As it turned out, after the first week, getting a whole new vital organ sewn into her chest wasn’t as bad as she had thought it would be. By the third week, the pain was starting to subside, transitioning into a residual soreness, and her biggest struggle currently was not clawing at her incision every time it itched. When the skin itself didn’t feel like an odd mixture of both tight and numb, it felt ablaze with itchiness. It was all she could do not to scratch at it. (Every time she did, Mary Margaret would bark at her to stop it, or David would throw a random item in her direction. Most recently, it had been a box of tissues that had narrowly missed her head, and he threatened to get an extendable fly swatter to swat her with, as needed.)
For the first time in her life, Emma was well and truly doted upon. She had family members who inarguably refused to leave her side. That is, of course, until Mary Margaret was forcibly removed by way of her impending school year start.
She’d had almost a month left of her summer break when Emma had had her operation, and she had been able to push almost all of her classroom prep off until the very last minute. David helped her ready her room when he could, but Emma knew her friend was fraying at the seams from trying to do so much in such a short span of time. Mary Margaret had a handful of vacation days, but she hoarded them like a dragon for true emergencies, and worried constantly that if her students started off the school year with a substitute teacher, they would just end up watching movies all day instead of actually learning something.
This was their last weekend before the new school year started and Mary Margaret went back to working full days. Emma was lounging on the couch, dozing, lidded eyes half focused on the episode of Friends quietly playing on the living room TV. She and Mary Margaret had just finished putting together twenty-five “Welcome back!” folders for her incoming students, as well as a second set for their parents.
“Why couldn't they have been ready for you to have the surgery during the start of summer?” Mary Margaret lamented, as she plopped her last folder down on the pile. “I would have had three months off to be here with you!”
David glanced over at them from the pile of pans he was washing at the kitchen sink and gave his wife an odd look. “You do realize you're wishing the woman whose heart Emma has now had died earlier in the year instead of later, right?”
Mary Margaret looked aghast. “No! Of course I don’t wish that. I didn't... I just meant...”
David raised his eyebrows at her, but by now he was smiling gently at his wife. Mary Margaret huffed. A slightly awkward silence settled between the three of them. The fact that another person was dead and Emma was still alive because of it was something they all knew but typically left unsaid. David had said it out loud, and now the strangeness of that fact settled over them all heavily.
“I wonder what she was like,” Emma murmured from her spot on the couch, puncturing the silence. “They couldn't tell me much. Well, couldn't or wouldn't, not sure which. All they said was that she was older than me, but not by too much, and in great health. Obviously we had to have the same blood type. But they couldn't tell me how she died, just that it didn't affect her heart.”
“Probably head trauma,” David said sagely. Emma winced at the thought, but he was likely right. He had seen enough as an officer to know. Especially working night shifts, when the majority of car accidents took place in the area.
“That sounds awful,” Mary Margaret said quietly.
“I'd never say I was glad someone else died,” David said after a while. “But I'm glad Emma's still with us.” The fact that these things were one in the same went unsaid. Mary Margaret reached over and squeezed Emma’s arm in gentle agreement with her husband. Emma glanced over at her and offered her sister-in-law a small smile, trying to convey to her without having to say it aloud that it was okay.
But in truth, Emma was uncomfortable. It just made her feel so strange, knowing that for every happy moment she now got to have here with her family, someone out there was living new moments, making new memories, without their own loved one to share them with. Someone out there was grieving a tremendous loss—had lost a daughter, a sister, a mother, a wife. The woman whose heart Emma now had could have been any one of those things, or all of them at once. She was presumably loved, adored, missed dearly. And Emma just didn’t know what to do with that information, how to carry these feelings with grace and proper gratitude. Often they \manifested in the form of guilt. David and Mary Margaret were quick to talk her out of that whenever it came up. That woman’s death meant something, they assured her. Part of her lives on, and part of her saved a life. That has to mean something to her family, right?
They were right, Emma knew. David saw so much meaningless death in his line of work that she inherently believed him when he told her that it was a gift, her being able to use someone else’s heart. (She didn’t have the courage to ask him how he would feel about any of Mary Margaret’s vital organs going to someone else, if she died.) It was a guilt she carried nonetheless, and she carried it poorly. It was an awkward shape, this guilt, and heavy, and she didn’t know how to carry it well. It all too often made her fumble.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said Mary Margaret looked over at her sharply, instantly suspicious that Emma was still feeling off from the previous conversation, but Emma was quick to wave away her worry. “I’m fine,” she assured her. “Really. I just feel grimy, and I don’t want to taint the epicness of Last Dinner with my stink.” This was their last evening—Last Dinner—before Mary Margaret returned to work full time, and they were marking the occasion with David’s mother’s famous lasagna recipe, a favorite from David and Emma’s semi-shared childhood (and coincidentally the only meal David really knew how to make, but that was beside the point).
“I second the vote for a shower,” David said, raising his hand in mock vote.
“You would,” Emma said with a roll of her eyes that David didn’t even need to see to know was there. Mary Margaret started to rise with her, as if about to help her to her feet. “Relax, woman,” Emma said, putting her hand on her friend’s shoulder gently to stop her. “I’ve got it. I’m not a complete invalid.”
“Jury’s still out,” came David’s response.
Emma looked at Mary Margaret, half expecting her to admonish her husband, but Mary Margaret just stared up at her with poorly veiled anxiety. “I’m not!” Emma said. “Guys, it’s been almost a month.”
“Three weeks,” Mary Margaret corrected. “Since you got a new heart. Not since you got your tonsils removed.”
“Okay,” Emma said, stretching out her back a bit as she stood there, chasing a kink out between her shoulder blades. “Sure, it was a big surgery.” David scoffed from his place by the sink, and Emma shot him a warning look. “But the doctors even said I have to try to do more on my own. I think it’s safe to say that includes showering.” There was no argument from David on that one. Mary Margaret, on the other hand, looked unconvinced.
“What if you slip and fall?”
“I’ll be sure to have my Life Alert button handy,” Emma retorted wryly. “Seriously, guys, it’s okay. I can handle showering.” Before they could argue any further, Emma slipped away, locking herself in the bathroom.
“Let me know if you need any help, okay?” Mary Margaret called through the door in a singsong voice only a few moments later. Emma swore she heard the doorknob jiggle, like her friend was testing to see if it was locked or not. It was, thankfully. Emma was already halfway undressed, and the last thing she needed was for her brother to get an accidental peep show because his wife thought Emma had already gotten stuck behind the toilet and died or something. “Emma?”
Oh, my God, Emma mouthed to herself. “Thanks,” she called out. “I will!” That seemed to appease Mary Margaret. But the faint squeak of the bar stool at the kitchen island assured Emma she hadn't gone far. It was endearing, how much they worried about her. At least, that's what she told herself in the moments like this, when it was almost impossible to find even just two seconds of privacy. Sometimes, she really did feel like she was a little kid again. Only now, she was re-living a much different version of her childhood. A sweeter, kinder version wherein people actually wanted to take care of her and didn't think of her as a monumental burden.
The tub's faucet squeaked shrilly as she turned on the water. When she’d first gotten home a week ago, just that motion, gripping the handle and giving the antique metal a yank, had left her arm feeling like a limp noodle. She was doing much better now, but she still felt pathetically weak and exceptionally out of shape. At one point, long ago, she had been fairly strong. A thin child, but always scrappy. Now she was a pale waif, muscles atrophied over the years as she'd gotten sicker. She vowed to herself that was going to change. Despite how frail she was, at the same time, she legitimately felt like she could take on the world now, with this new heart. She could finally breathe, take a breath fully in and out, without feeling lightheaded. That alone was a miracle.
Gingerly, she lifted her tank top up over her head. Her scar, where a surgeon had cut into muscle and bone and forcibly ripped open her sternum, stood out, an angry red slash against alabaster skin. For the first few weeks, it had been concealed by gauze. By this point, it was still tender, but her doctor encouraged her to air it out often. She even had some skin mobility exercises she was supposed to be doing daily, to help the layers of tissue beneath the scar not permanently adhere to one another. The scar itself stretched from the top of her chest, dropping down in between her breasts, all the way past her sternum bone. It was a thick, gnarled thing, aesthetically ugly; but she found herself overwhelmingly grateful for it the longer she looked at it. As ugly as it was, this scar meant she was going to live to see her next birthday.
Washing herself was still a slow, cautious process, but much easier than it had been when she’d first gotten out of the hospital. She took the time now to do her full, luxury, self care princess shower routine, something she hadn’t had the strength to do in months.
The venting system in the loft's tiny bathroom was terrible, and by the time she stepped out of the shower, steam cloaked the room like a fog. The sheer dampness of the air made her cough when she inhaled. Emma didn't care; she felt amazing. It was easy to underestimate how much better a good shower could make a person feel. She felt human again, instead of the fresh-from-the-hospital, invalid goblin she’d been feeling like for the past few weeks. Humming to herself, she dried off, turbaned her wet hair, and started to dress.
David had the water running at the sink, and the apartment’s ancient radiator had kicked on next to the bathroom; when Emma finally opened the bathroom door, her brother and sister-in-law didn’t hear the faint creak of the old wood on its hinge as it started to open.
“But you love your classroom.” David was saying in a low voice. It was clear he was trying to be fairly quiet, but this felt like intruding in on a conversation that had been going on for several minutes. Possibly the whole time she’d been in the shower.
Emma didn't hear Mary Margaret sigh, but she could tell by the tone of her voice that her words had come on the end of one. “Of course I do,” she said, “And I really do miss my kids. But Emma needs me here. I can't just leave her! She just got a new heart, David. A heart. It's not like she had her wisdom teeth removed and just needs a day or two to get back on her feet.”
The aforementioned heart skipped a beat in Emma's chest. A familiar, sinking feeling of guilt settled low and heavy in Emma's stomach.
“But she will get back on her feet,” David said gently. “You know she will. She just needs time.”
“Exactly! And she needs me here to help her until she does.”
“No, she doesn't.”
“David—”
“Mary Margaret,” David interrupted lovingly. “She's going to be okay. Better than okay. This is the day we've all been waiting for, don't forget. She's getting a second chance at life here.” Unexpected tears welled in Emma's eyes at that. “And Emma knows that,” David continued. “You and I both know she's going to be chomping at the bit to get back out there. It's going to be hard enough keeping her here the six weeks it'll take for her to heal. She's not going to need our help half as much as you think she will.”
Mary Margaret started to respond, but Emma couldn't take it anymore. She took the bathroom's old doorknob in her hand and gave it a good rattle, like she had just started to open it, and the door creaked loudly as she pushed it fully open. David and Mary Margaret grew hush until Mary Margaret piped up with, "Oh, hi Emma!" a little too brightly. David noticeably busied himself with cutting the garlic bread he’d pulled out of the oven moments before. The guilt at having eavesdropped coiled in Emma's chest like a snake ready to spring, and she swallowed around the lump that had grown in her throat. “Hey,” she said, trying her best to sound normal.
“Everything go okay?” Mary Margaret asked. “No dizziness?”
“I didn’t hear the Life Alert alarm go off,” David said dryly, shooting his sister a wink.
“I feel amazing,” Emma said earnestly. “Seriously.” She sidled up to her brother and successfully bumped him out of the way, taking over the cutting of the garlic bread despite his weak protestations.
“Oh, good,” Mary Margaret breathed, and the relief was evident in her voice. She shared a glance with David, which Emma pointedly ignored, and moved to grab the stack of dishes waiting on the island so she could start setting the table.
“I was thinking,” Emma went on, “Maybe I could come help you set up your classroom later today. If you think you need the help. Or I could just come keep you company, get a change of scenery.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” David said, as he watched his wife’s expression.
“That would be great, honestly,” Mary Margaret said, but was quick to add, “As long as you’re feeling up to it.”
“I mean, as long as you don’t have me lugging around twenty-pound carts of Crayons or something,” Emma laughed, “I think I’ll be okay.”
“Do fourth graders still use crayons?” David asked, as he popped open the oven one final time and withdrew the lasagna. The cheese on top was browning and bubbling and a minute away from burnt, just the way his mother had always cooked it, and the whole thing looked wonderful.
“Not really,” Mary Margaret said with a shrug. “But it doesn’t matter. I have a big, handsome deputy to do all my heavy lifting for me.” She batted her eyes at her husband a few times, who grinned back at her.
“All right, lovebirds,” Emma said, as she clicked the salad tongs at them a few times in playful warning. “Let’s eat. I’ve got my appetite back and I’m actually starving.”
“Jeez,” David said, “You’d think she’d gotten a new stomach with the heart. She’s gonna eat us out of house and home now.”
Table set, food out, they took their respective seats. David uncorked a bottle of red wine he’d been saving for a special occasion, which Emma was definitely not allowed to have, but she told Mary Margaret to enjoy it for her.
As Mary Margaret spooned squares of lasagna onto everyone’s plate, Emma took a moment to try to find the right words to say to convey how she was feeling to these people who would seemingly do anything in the world for her. But what she wanted most is for them to get back to living their lives, too. They had put off so much for her sake, and she was more grateful than she knew how to say. But it was time to move on now, to heal, for all of them.
“I know it can suck, having such a huge surgery,” Emma started, pausing to clear her throat. “But this is different.” She glanced up at Mary Margaret, who was watching her closely. “I mean, a month ago, I was dying. I never told you guys this, but it just felt like the end. I was working on drafting a will.”
“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret said quietly.
“That’s so morbid,” David said.
“I know it’s stupid.” Emma toyed with the end of her napkin as she stared down at her plate. “I don’t really have anything to will to anyone. I was just going to leave anything I had to you guys.” She cleared her traitorous throat again and took a moment to blink back some tears. She needn’t have bothered; when she glanced up at her family, they were both openly tearing up as they looked at her. “Okay, stop,” she said, pointing her fork at them, “Or I’m going to lose it. Absolutely no crying in baseball.”
“Got it,” Mary Margaret said, her voice watery and absolutely unconvincing.
“Just… Thank you,” Emma said, when she finally got her voice back under control. “I don’t want to think about where I’d be without you both. From the bottom of both my hearts,” she said, with a wry little smile she couldn’t keep at bay, “Thank you.”
David chuckled, wiping at his eyes, and Mary Margaret continued to stare at her, smiling and barely holding back the floodgates. “We love you, sis,” David said, and a moment later he raised his wineglass. “To Emma’s new lease on life.” Mary Margaret’s wine glass followed, and Emma clinked her water glass with theirs.
“And Mary Margaret’s new school year,” Emma added.
“Hear, hear,” Mary Margaret agreed. “I’ll take prayers, good vibes, anything you’ve got.”
“You’re going to do great,” David assured her, as he put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer to kiss her cheek. “Those kids are lucky to have you.”
Dinner was splendid, and the company even better. It was the first full meal Emma was able to enjoy without feeling nauseated, which was a win in her book. She literally couldn’t think of the last time that had happened. Mary Margaret did indeed have Emma’s wine, and was perhaps a little tipsy when they later ventured out to put some finishing touches on her classroom, which just made it all the more enjoyable for Emma and David.
And as Emma settled into bed that night, for the first time in a long time, she felt well and truly good. She felt full, warm, strong, and loved. And she knew, felt sure in her bones, that this was the start of one of the best years of her life.
+++++
The funeral went as well as a funeral could--especially considering there was no actual body to bury. Milah had set it up long beforehand that all salvageable organs were to be donated to the nearest hospital at the time of her death, then the rest of her body donated to science. This made planning her funeral and memorial service a unique affair, as there was no body for a wake, no urn of ashes received. That he would receive later, whenever the hospital saw fit. So Killian honored his wife's memory the best way he could.
Everyone who had ever known her in the past few years since she and Killian had moved Stateside was crammed into a small funeral home to celebrate her life and speak well of her. Her parents were long dead, but he had managed to get his hands on some childhood photos from her aunt who still lived across the pond; a small smattering of her extended relatives had sent cards to pay their respects. But the room was filled primarily with her coworkers and friends she’d made in the few years they’d lived in Boston.
Milah had been a truly gifted photographer, both in her work and personal life, evidence of which sat neatly framed and displayed on nearly every available inch of table space in the room. All the best photos Milah had ever taken through her work had been printed and framed and displayed, tucked neatly between bouquets of flowers. One table was so long, it took up the entire back wall.
Killian had almost, almost, completely lost the last tenuous grip he had on his sanity when the wrong flowers had come in that morning. He had distinctly ordered stargazer lilies, his wife’s favorite flower, for the table arrangements. Instead, what had been delivered to him were a rainbow assortment of Gerber daisies, of all things, which he viewed on this particular day as nothing short of an abomination. As it turned out, there had been a mistake with the delivery trucks, and his order had been sent to a birthday party instead. It probably should have embarrassed him, how angry a simple mix up of flowers had made him. But as he had very little pride left, he was literally seeing red, until Robin showed up beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder, and gently steered him out the side door and outside for some fresh air. Will took over, his general belligerence a helpful and actually useful tool that day, and tried to get the flowers sorted out with minimal shouting.
As Killian stood now, gazing down at the myriad of perfect photos his wife had taken over the course of her career, he belatedly realized he had been the star of many of them, unbeknownst to him. His wife had apparently been a ninja behind her viewfinder when he wasn’t paying attention. It should have made him feel awkward, being the focal point of so many of her photographs; the last thing he wanted now was attention. And yet, he couldn’t help but smile at most of them. One of him leaning over the railing of a dock, for instance, staring pensively out at sea, squinting slightly in the light of the sun. Another of him from behind, a shadowed figure standing on the beach with his toes buried in the sand and his hands in the pockets of his shorts, staring out at the red slashed sky of an oncoming storm. He was the blurred, black clad figure in the background or at the helm in several photographs of the ships he and his brother had helped restore.
It was visible, tangible proof of how much she had loved him, how often her camera found itself pointed in his direction, focused on him. And God, if that didn’t make him miss her all the more. His heart was an open wound, and he was never going to be able to staunch the flow from it. Day by day, he felt like he was bleeding out, until soon there would be nothing left of him.
One photo, his favorite, and one that was already framed in his home, stood out prominently. His and his brother, Liam, in front of their first real score for the ship restoration foundation, a beautiful, towering piece of history in the form of a stunning antique merchant vessel. Liam’s arm was thrown over Killian’s shoulders, his face alight with absolute joy (and possibly the buzz from the beers they’d had over lunch). They were both squinting, laughing like fools at having finally pulled it off. Towering behind them, not to be overshadowed, was the ship, herself: the Jewel of the Realm. Milah had been sent by a local paper to get photos of the ship, and her new owners, as a focal point for a story on local maritime history.
Killian felt fortunate he remembered that day so well. It had felt like the best day of his entire life, at the time. Seeing his brother so elated, after everything they had endured together, had been enough to send Killian to the moon. It felt like things were finally, finally going their way. He had taken to Milah instantly, and spent the hour regaling her with the history of the ship. A merchant ship, originally, but thought to have been used for piracy at one point. He leaned heavily into the implications of the latter fact, as he felt—rightly so—that it added intrigue, and Milah had been enamored with the Jewel. He'd joked that day about renaming it the Jolly Roger, much to his brother's chagrin. She’d had other work to get to that day, so she hadn’t stayed long, but she’d given him her business card, which he still carried in his wallet. Liam had been killed shortly after, on one of his last missions with the Royal Navy before his scheduled retirement. Everything had changed, then. But Killian had always felt especially lucky that it had been Milah that day who had come to take their photo. For one short hour, she had been able to meet his brother, before Killian had lost him forever. The stars had aligned, and for one short span of time, the man who had meant the most to him and the woman who would come to mean everything to him had met, briefly. It wasn’t much, in the grand scheme of things, but to Killian, it had to be enough.
And then there were the glorious photos of the rest of the ships he had brought on through the years. He had always marveled at Milah’s skill behind a camera, her ability to find just the right angle, at just the precise time of day, to truly capture the essence of the ships he restored. Through her eyes, even the in-progress pictures never made them look like pieces of floating shit, which some of them very much were at the start of the process. She managed to make them look like hidden treasure, just waiting to be uncovered. Pieces of history waiting to be lovingly restored to their former glory. That’s what he’d felt like, with her. She’d been the one to see past his flaws after the death of his brother, to see something worth loving in him, something worth restoring.
And now what was he, without her?
The frequent looks of sympathy that came his way over the course of the memorial service were one of the worst parts of the day. Each and every concerned glance that flit in Killian's direction was threaded not only with heavy condolences, but something much worse: pity. And he knew he was a pitiable sight, indeed. He was dressed well enough, in a deep black suit Milah had bought for him after his business had another big break. But, his arm with the broken collarbone was still in a sling and had no hand at the end of it. Dark circles cradled his eyes, which seemed to be permanently bloodshot these days. He had given up almost entirely on sleep.
Sleeping felt impossible, an insurmountable task despite its simplicity; the bed was too big, too cold, and too empty when he was the only one in it. He tried—really tried. Each night, he made a valiant attempt to sleep in his own bed. He'd toss, turn, and generally do a lot of staring up at his ceiling. Eventually, he resorted to Netflix. But his “recently watched” list was full of her favorite shows, episodes half finished, series just begun. It was a terrible distraction.
The first week after he arrived home from the hospital, his recliner chair in the living room had been the only place he could comfortably fall asleep with his arm in a sling. It was a lumpy, unsightly thing he had inherited from his brother (it was this reason and this reason alone his wife had allowed him to keep it.) Milah had called it his old man chair. These days, he’d often fall asleep in the chair, wake up with a start an hour later, and make his way to the couch, where he’d try to fall back asleep, but would mostly lie awake, staring into the dark, letting his mind off its leash and letting it wander to dangerous places.
Often these thoughts centered on what he would do if he could track down the driver who had hit them head on, then fled the scene. What he would do when he found him or her varied. Sometimes, he pictured lighting him on fire. The next moment, he'd revel in the thought of running him through with a knife, watching him slowly bleed out on the floor. Or he’d take his hand from him, too. Such thoughts kept him company and carried him through until morning.
Now, with the lack of sleep and the general dissociation he felt, he often didn’t feel cemented in reality. When he looked around the room, taking in the funeral parlor, it felt like this was happening to someone else, and he was merely observing. It didn’t help that he was surrounded by a sea of people who didn't know what to say to him. The moment never came that he was spared the awkward indignity of a conversation with someone who had little else to say other than I'm sorry.
She was a lovely person.
(Each time, he bristled at the use of the past tense.)
She'll be missed.
Pity had overtaken the room, lingering like a dense fog. Everywhere he turned, his friends, her friends, co-workers, even a handful of people he had never seen before in his life, were all wearing the same expression on their faces. It transcended simple pity. It was next-level pity, flashing from their eyes and those slight down-turned corners of their mouths like a brightly-lit billboard in the night that read "YOUR LIFE DEPRESSES ME."
He couldn't blame them. He pitied himself, too, when he wasn't numb, pulled down so deep into his own despair he could no longer think straight.
At least the food was decent—or so he had been overhearing. One quick glance over at Will Scarlet in the back of the room, face stuffed with h'orderves, told him the funeral parlor's appetizers couldn't have been terrible. If there had ever been a time he appreciated his friends more, he couldn't think of it. Of all the people who had shown up to the service, Locks and Scarlet were the only two who didn't make him want to scream. Or run. Or throw a punch. All of it, all at once.
Will and Robin sat apart from the rest, in a pair of wingback armchairs in the corner of the room. Killian hadn't had a chance to speak to either of them, apart from initial hellos and quick hugs when they'd first arrived, and of course the ordeal with the flowers, but somehow, he knew without even asking they intended to stay for the entire affair, likely planning to take him out for a drink when this was all over.
What else do you do for your best friend after his wife's funeral?
All in all, it wasn’t a very hopeful affair, and too often bordered on bleak. Killian had no words in honor of Milah he wanted to share with a roomful of people who didn’t know her very well, and he didn’t trust himself to speak without breaking down. So, people ate, drank, and made a reserved and somber form of merry. They swapped stories back and forth, each offering up little pieces of the woman they had known.
Milah's parents had died years ago, and she had no siblings, so the room was occupied primarily by people she had thought of as friends. That was a nice thought, and in the coming weeks, Killian would be touched by the food, flowers, and cards that continued to arrive on his doorstep in memory of his wife.
But here, in this moment, he couldn't bring himself to find hope in anything.
+++++++
One Year Later
Was a house truly haunted if you didn’t mind the ghost?
It felt like a haunting for months after Milah’s funeral, this limbo state he found himself in, where he couldn’t bring his heart or his brain to fully comprehend that she was gone. They traded shifts in misunderstanding, his heart and brain. There were days where, logically, he understood his wife was dead. And yet, his heart still leaped at the sound of a car door shutting outside, or an imagined creak in the floorboards that sounded like her coming around the corner in the hall. Other days, his heartache was so profound, he could barely muster the strength to get out of bed. All too often, he’d forget, and for a few blissful minutes, reach for his phone to call her and ask her a question. Those were beautiful moments, the forgetting. But the remembering that followed took his breath away.
Then there were the things around the home he couldn’t bring himself to toss. Notes she’d left on the fridge, a grocery list on the table. Leftovers from her favorite meal at their favorite restaurant he couldn’t bring himself to throw away until they were fouling up the whole kitchen. Her phone was recovered from the accident and eventually made its way to him, via the detectives working the hit and run case. He went through her email drafts, texts, anything he could get his hands on that held pieces of Milah. He'd saved every voicemail she'd ever left him, had them memorized, and he'd play them when he missed her most, poking the bruise in his heart over and over until it numbed and didn't hurt so much. It all felt relatively harmless, like doing this to himself couldn’t possibly be a bad thing.
Until he found himself practically sobbing the floor of the shower one morning over a soggy clump of her hair he’d pulled from the drain.
He just couldn’t seem to pull himself together.
How do you bring yourself to purposefully excavate traces of someone from your life, after they’re gone, until it was like they weren’t even there at all, the life you shared existing only in snapshots and memories? How exactly does one get to that place, force yourself to loosen your grip on all you have left of the person you love, the person you’d give anything to see one last time? Killian couldn’t fathom it. He couldn’t picture himself ever ridding himself completely of Milah’s memory.
But he could stop leaving land mines for himself.
He’d always run a tight ship at home, in terms of cleanliness. He had never had much, by way of possessions, and wasn’t sentimental about keeping things. Now he found himself debating whether or not he should keep a note in the bathroom his wife had scrawled out for herself to remind herself to order new contacts. These were the silly, useless things he stared at for minutes on end, debating what to do with. This little scrap of her pretty handwriting he recognized and loved. The thought of it winding up in a landfill somewhere made him ill.
Eventually, he gathered these random scraps and pieces of her he’d found (except the clump of hair from the drain—that one did make it into the waste bin, thankfully) and gently shepherded them into a large Ziploc bag, which he kept in a box on her side of the closet.
Robin and Will called often, texted even more often, and even dropped by now and again. They offered their help constantly, gladly would have helped with menial tasks like this (like throwing away scraps of paper Milah might have touched, God, he was a mess), but he turned them away each time. He just wanted to shut the world out, encase himself in a tomb of his own grief.
He hadn’t even been able to see her, to say goodbye to her, because he hadn’t been bloody conscious for it. He had no memory of Robin telling him of her death; in the week following the accident, he left a slew of traumatized nurses in his wake as people had to tell him again and again for what felt like the first time that his wife was gone.
Milah, bless her ever-loving soul, had signed herself up to be an organ donor. Of course she had. On some level, he knew this. It was marked on her driver’s license, and it was surely something they had talked about at one point. But now he resented it, resented the whole idea of it. He resented anything that didn’t allow him to see his wife one last time. One doctor had had the absolute audacity to tell Killian that he didn’t want to see his wife, anyway; the damage from the accident had been too great, the brunt of which had gone to her head, and that it was a miracle her heart was still beating enough to allow for any organ transplants. Killian, for his part, had an entirely different definition of the word “miracle”.
So he waited to receive her ashes, held a funeral without her body. But he certainly didn’t wait patiently.
He wonders sometimes what she would think of what he's become. No doubt there would be times she'd laugh at how ridiculous he was being, debating on keeping an old, wet clump of her hair like some kind of serial killer, and the subsequent guilt he felt at throwing it away, this gross little piece of her DNA.
And yet, he reminds himself that there is, oddly, more of her DNA out there somewhere. Somewhere, out in the world, a select few of her vital organs are in new bodies, presumably thriving and keeping their hosts alive and well. Presumably, there are people out there who will be forever grateful for these pieces of his wife. Actual, living pieces of her. Killian has no idea how to feel about that, truly. There will come a day, when he is able to pull himself out of this darkness that perpetually feels more crushingly inescapable by the day, that he is able to see the true and abundant beauty in it. Milah, gone, but literal parts of her living on, providing life-giving support to someone else’s body and soul. That's the true miracle, really, and something he’d know she would be proud of.
For now, in the depths of his despair, he feels annoyed, indifferent at best. Her benevolent medical and scientific donation was, for many long months, the thing standing between him and a proper burial for his wife, the thing that stood in the way of closure and him being able to say goodbye to her properly. This is the thing his mind latched onto, chooses as a target for his blame.
Closure arrives on his doorstep one afternoon, boxed and bubble wrapped, in the form of an unassuming black urn. When he finally received her ashes, half a year after her death, he knew what he would do with them, knew immediately what she would want him to do with them. But he can’t yet bring himself to say goodbye, and the urn sat above their fireplace for months. This is the moment it hits him, truly, that she is gone. This is what it takes for it to finally sink in. He spends a long time building up the courage, brick by brick, to do what he needs to do. And as what would be her 37th birthday approaches on a warm July day, he finally gathered the strength to lay his wife to rest and honor her the way she deserved.
What he doesn’t appreciate about the day, however, is the weather, which turns out to be an absolutely perfect New England summer day, which Killian very much resented.
It was almost like it was mocking him. Jabbing a bright, sunshiny finger right into his face and laughing at his grief, which still, even almost a year after the death of his wife, was still a wound that had left him hollowed. When his brother had died, suddenly and with too much life left unlived, he'd felt like the ground itself had been pulled out from under him, and he'd been left in free fall. Now, with Milah gone, it felt as if his heart had been ripped right out of his chest and crushed in front of him.
How did people live like this?
If he were truly honest with himself, Killian wasn't certain what he was doing each day could actually be called living. He was alive, sure. Most days, the only thing that kept that from being true was the unknown lurking behind the veil of death. He had his own theories, his own hopes, for what awaited in a possible afterlife, but of course, no one really knows for sure until their time comes. He couldn't be sure what would happen to him, whether or not he'd see Milah, if he died tomorrow. Hell would be dying and not being reunited with her. And that was a hell whose existence he was not quite ready to test.
The closest thing he had to his wife now was resting in his lap, ashes encased in ceramic. He had taken a small, private sailboat out to sea, sailed until there was no one else in sight, trying to find a good spot to release her ashes to the ocean she had loved so much. It had been close to two hours, now; he knew he was putting off the inevitable. If he didn’t do it now, he feared, with good reason, that he never would.
The best part about giving someone’s ashes to the sea was that there wouldn’t be one particular spot where her body would be laid to rest. The waves would take the dust of her and spread it for him, from shore to shore, just like they had taken his brother’s ashes. There would be no headstone, but the ocean itself would remind him of her, and he could visit her anytime he liked on a sea that had always brought him a sense of serenity.
Killian Jones had never believed in soul mates until he’d met Milah.
And he still didn't quite believe in them, in the traditional sense. He didn't believe in a ready-made mate just waiting for him to find her. No, in his experience, life was far from ever that easy or that simple. But things had changed for him when he'd met his wife. Then, with her love, the broken pieces in him, irrevocably shattered the day his brother had died, shifted together into something that could almost be held together again. With her, he’d felt more whole than he could ever remember feeling in his life.
She had been married at the time, when they’d met. Daydreaming of leaving her terrible husband, dreams which grew in intensity with each passing day. And while she hadn't exactly left him for Killian, she may has well have. Everything had changed for her that day, too.
For while Milah had been his partner, they hadn't met each other and been perfectly content. But they had made each other stronger, in all the ways that counted.
Now he believed wholeheartedly that soul mates existed. But they weren't found, ready made and prepackaged. They were made, forged through love and hard work working hand in hand.
These were the things he thought, as the gentle salted breeze ruffled his hair and brought stinging tears to his eyes. As he looked down at the urn that held the last physical piece of the woman he’d loved, would always love, was lost and adrift without.
“I love you, Milah,” he whispered to the wind. The tightness in his throat and jaw wouldn’t let him say more, but he knew he didn’t need to. She’d known how much and how fiercely he’d loved her, and he had to think that wherever she was, she still knew the hold she had on him.
He held the urn against his chest with his prosthetic hand, working to unscrew the top. The breeze calmed at just the right moment, and as he leaned over the side of the ship to release Milah to the sea she'd loved, the dust of her settled gently down into the water.
=========
gonna tag a few folks who I think might care this is up (again, sorry if I already tagged you!)
@spartanguard @sunbeamsandmoonrays @caprelloidea @kmomof4 @queen-mabs-revenge @ahsagitarius @galadriel26 @t-tamm-
@lavendersoapsuds @its-imperator-furiosa @midnightswans @cigarettes-and-scotch-whisky @withheartfulloflove @captainswan-middlemist @sarahreadsff @princesseslikepirates @winterbaby89 @pirateherokillian @wordslovedreams
@hannah-mic @thecraftyartist @blackwidownat2814 @once-uponacaptain @kylalovesbabeme @swiftmicheles @emmaswanstlk @captainswanslay
@the-tones-of-wallflowers @kday426 @krystalsficpage
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Double Trouble Part 20/?
Hey guys! I am so sorry about the wait for this update. Life in other fandoms has been hectic and things got pushed to the side. But, I now have a solid plan of where I want this AU to go! So hopefully, we get steadier updates.
Thank you so much if you have stuck around since the beginning of this AU!
Tag List (if you would like to be added, comment a '🌻')
@winterbaby89 @taylorsversion @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @xsajx @onceuponahookandswan @onceratheart18 @long-life-ouat @teamhook @xwereallmadx
You can find the other parts of this series under the hashtag 'double Trouble cs au' or over on my Instagram!
#double trouble cs au#enchantedlandcoffee cs au#emma swan#killian jones#captain swan#captain swan fanfic#captain hook#once upon a time
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Dare I say forever...
Part 3 of Lover of the Light (AKA Wish Baby)
Summary:
He’d turned the tavern upside down trying to find her, had scoured the streets for any sign of her golden hair, of the eyes he’d only just been gazing into. But she was nowhere, and the panic started to settle. No. No, it has to have worked. That was why they found the bloody star in the first place - light magic, no tricks, a wish that would send them both home. But she’s not with him.
The reunion of WishEmma and SilverWishHook after the events of Lover of the Light and Ghosts that we Knew. Also affectionately (and agressively) nicknamed Wish Baby
Rated E
Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr: 1 2
HAPPY SUPER BELATED BIRTHDAY @the-darkdragonfly 🎁🎉🎂🎈
This fic is suuuuuuper late but that’s because (as you know) it turned into a 34k word monster that had to be turned into two parts/chapters. You’re the loveliest person ever and I hope you like this conclusion you’ve been demanding for two years! 😘
Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you @elizabeethan for betaing this fic that is way longer than it was supposed to be when you agreed to read it! 🙏🙏
And thank you @kmomof4 for being a second set of eyes when I decided to write this story out of order! 💕
********
Part Three
“You’re too bloody old for this,” Killian grunts, shoving at a handful of bloody roses - because of course it had to be roses - and their bloody thorns, reaching for another gap in the criss-crossing wood that creaks under his weight. He’s too old to be climbing trellises in the middle of night to sneak into a lass’s bedroom - especially a bedroom in a bloody castle.
He heaves himself up another step, hook getting caught in the tangles and he struggles to free it without falling on his arse. His arms hurt. His legs hurt. His back. His breathing is so loud that he worries they’ll hear him across the garden where two guards are supposed to be stopping people like him from breaking in and whisking away princesses. He should tell Emma to fire them.
A thorn catches his palm and he curses, sweat beading on his temples as he covets the strength he had as a younger man, the energy. He needs it now. He needs to find her. One moment he’d been holding her hand in that tavern, the light blinding as he tried to keep his eyes on her face for as long as possible, and the next, she was gone. The Emma who’d come here had disappeared, but this Emma, his Emma, he still doesn’t know where she is.
He’d turned the tavern upside down trying to find her, had scoured the streets for any sign of her golden hair, of the eyes he’d only just been gazing into. But she was nowhere, and the panic started to settle.
No. No, it has to have worked. That was why they found the bloody star in the first place - light magic, no tricks, a wish that would send them both home. And then a new panic had set in. Home. If she’d been sent home, back to the castle where the other Emma had just used magic in front of her mother…
And so here he is, climbing the trellis beneath her window like a suitor in a storybook, only older, and wearier, and sweatier. But he embraces the exhaustion, the burn of his limbs, because it keeps the worst of his fears at bay. What if she’s just gone? What if she was never sent to another land? What if he can’t bring her back. What if she’s lost to him forever?
He doesn’t want to think of what that would mean, of what it might do to him to have her ripped away like this. He fears who he might become without her, who he was when he met her, the emptiness that had consumed him, that she had filled. She’d changed him.
He reaches the window, grunting embarrassingly - though there’s no one around to hear it - as heaves himself over the edge of her balcony. It’s dark, the blinds are closed and he can’t hear anything inside. He calls her name, tries the door when she doesn’t answer. It’s locked. Why the hell is her bloody balcony door locked, he groans. Probably to keep people from climbing up the trellis into her room.
Slipping his hook into the keyhole he curses when it takes him longer than he’d like to pick the lock. He’s out of practice at breaking and entering. When it finally unlatches the door creaks open under his hand and he winces, everything feeling too loud.
“Swan? Emma, love, are you there?” He tries to ignore the stirring dread when he receives no answer, searching in the dark. He’s never been here before, their meetings always in the tavern or on his ship. The room smells like her, her scent clinging to the walls, haunting the space as it does his cabin every time she has to leave. He calls her name again, checking the bed, searching the sitting room attached. Her chambers are bigger than his whole bloody ship.
She has to be somewhere. He’ll search the whole bloody castle if he has to. Unfortunately his fear makes him impulsive; his desperation makes short-sighted; and his lack of practice makes an idiot. Because when he opens the door to the hall, prepared to go storming off looking for her, he forgets to listen, forgets to be silent, or armed, and he comes face to face with two guards - or face to back.
Bollocks. He tries to back away slowly, but it’s too late, the guards turning, their swords drawn as swiftly as his own. So much for sneaking about the palace unnoticed - he’ll have to find her quickly. He disarms the first two easily - not killing them, he knows Emma is close to some of the guards and he doesn’t think she’d appreciate him doing away with her household staff - but one of them shouts and more come running. Five, who he manages to take down, then ten, harder this time, a few still standing when more come, and soon it seems the whole bloody army is in her bedroom.
“Get your bloody hands off of me,” he spits as four hold him down, force him to his knees, disarmed, bloody and bruised. A new guard walks in, older than the rest, a commander more than a fighter now he imagines.
“We found him breaking in, Lord Humbert. It looks like he came up through the balcony.”
“Tell whoever’s stationed outside to report to my quarters,” the man says in an accent close to Killian’s own. “The bloody idiots can explain how they let someone get into the princess's room.” Killian likes this one, the name familiar. He just can’t place it.
“Care to tell me what you’re doing here?” Humbert asks.
“I would,” Killian snarks. “But I’m in a bit of a rush, actually. I have people expecting me. You know how it is.”
The guard actually looks half amused, glancing at his clothes and at his hook. “Aye, well, I don’t think you’ll be seeing anyone anytime soon. The punishment for attempted kidnapping is death, Captain.”
Killian gives him his most charming, sarcastic smile. “Well it’s always nice to be recognized.”
“Your title won’t do you much good when you’re facing the gallows, I’m afraid. Take him away.”
“Wait!” he says through gritted teeth before the guard can turn away. “I wasn’t trying to kidnap her, I was trying to bloody warn her.”
He stops, frowns. “About what?” Killian sets his jaw. He can’t tell this man anything without revealing Emma’s magic, possibly putting her in even more danger. Humbert waves his hand and he’s being dragged to his feet as the man walks away, a wolf on the back of his armor. “You’re Graham - the one who saved her mother.”
Graham stops, turns back, raising a hand again and the soldiers holding him relax their grip only slightly. “How do you know that?”
“Emma told me. She also told me that you taught her to track when she was little. Her governess got angry because she would come back covered in mud and leaves.”
“Emma told you?” Graham asks, frowning deeply, stepping closer.
“Aye, she cares for you - said you were like a second father to her. Which is why I’m sorry about this.” The man hardly has a moment to register his words before Killian pulls a sword from one of the guards’ belts, hitting Humbert in the face with the hilt and knocking him out cold. The other guards are caught off guard, Killian making quick work of them. “Sorry,” he says to them before taking off down the hall - Emma’s made him soft-hearted. “True love and all.”
***
Emma nearly falls into the water. One moment she’d been sitting with Killian in the room that belonged to another version of her, and the next she was stumbling across the deck of a ship. She blinks, looking around at where she is, recognizing the Jolly, the open sea around her. She touches the fabric of her clothes, the riding pants and vest. Hers. She’s back. They must have done it - her Killian and his Emma. Running below deck, she throws open the door to his cabin.
“Killian?” she calls. But there’s no answer. The ship is silent, empty, eerily so. She searches the bosun’s room he’d spent so many nights in, the galley, the hold, the deck. He’s not here. Why isn’t he here? She makes her way to the railing, looking out at the docks. This isn’t the port near Misthaven. “Where are you?”
She lets her magic flow through her, humming under her skin, extending beyond her but not far, holding tight to it. Killian, where are you? Emma lets it pull her to the edge of the ship, looking out into the dark water below, her reflection visible in the bright moonlight, the waves rippling through it before the image shifts and she nearly gasps.
Mirror magic. She hadn’t meant to use it but she can see him coming through beneath her reflection, as though it were floating to the surface. The tavern. Misthaven. She doesn’t know what his ship is doing here, why he’s not on it, but she’s going to find him. Emma raises the main sail and makes her way back to the helm, looking up at the stars, the constellations he taught her. She points the ship east, back to him. She’ll find him. She’ll find him and she’ll tell him everything.
He hadn’t been at the tavern when she arrived a little over an hour later. The barkeep had seemed confused when she’d asked if he’d seen Killian. “He was ‘ere earlier - with you. Ran outta ‘ere like a bat outta hell. Assumed you wen’ with ‘im.”
“Do you know where he went?”
The man shook his head. “Maybe ‘e’s lookin’ for you too.”
“Damn.” If he did, then he’s at the palace, and she needs to find him before anyone else does. She takes the barman’s horse back to the castle, hopping off and sneaking around back to the servants quarters to avoid being seen. She needs to sneak in, find Killian, and sneak him out before anyone even knows she’s there.
The door to the kitchen is unlatched, the cook notorious for leaving it ajar, livestock often making their way into the pantry searching for snacks. She’s relieved to find it empty, creeping through the room to the staircase that leads to the great hall. If she has to search floor by floor, she will.
She decides it’s her best bet, starting up the winding staircase. She can hear the sounds of guards above her, worried they’ve already found him, and she picks up her pace, taking the steps two at a time. She barely hears the footsteps, barely hears the sharp sound of metal being unsheathed before she nearly crashes into him.
Someone catches her just in time to avoid her plummet back down a hundred or more steps, and when she looks up to see her savior, she can’t believe it. “Emma?”
“Killian!” she throws herself in his arms, holding him tightly and he freezes. But then she’s pressing her lips to his and his arms wrap around her, drawing her closer, letting her push him back against the wall as she kisses him like she thought she’d never see him again. He’s here. He’s safe.
“Is it really you?” he asks, pulling away enough to brush his thumb over her cheek. Emma nods furiously, beaming and crying all at once. “Yeah, it’s really me.”
“Where did you go? Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. It’s a long story, but, Killian, we have to go. If they find you here -”
He nods, solemnly. “I know. Come on.”
She takes his hand, and he just looks at her, that air of disbelief still in his eyes. Then he looks at her hand and she knows he’s thinking the same as her. She thought she’d lost him, and she doesn’t resist as he pulls her back to him, kissing her one more time, just because it won’t be the last.
A clamour comes from upstairs, footprints and armor and blades and Killian breaks away, drawing his own sword. “This way!” she hisses, leading him down, but she freezes, footsteps coming from below as well and she turns wide, frantic eyes on him.
“It’ll be alright, love.” She doesn’t know if she believes him this time…
“Unhand her!” a voice shouts from above them.
They both whirl around, each with a protective arm thrown out across other, leaving them standing side by side. “Stand down,” Emma orders and Killian takes another step forwards, sword in hand as the guard looks at her, hesitant, uncertain and she orders him to stand down again. Why aren’t they listening?
“Swan,” he whispers, hook pressing into her hip, trying to hide her behind him. “They know about your magic.”
She only lets the panic take over for a moment, simmering low in her stomach, heart hammering, before she channels it. Light begins to simmer in her palms. “Then they have all the more reason to listen.”
“Emma!” Her magic vanishes, the familiar voice sending a pang through her. They both turn, but it takes her a moment to raise her eyes to his, to see how he’ll look at her now, if there will be fear there, or worse, hatred. Killian raises his sword at the guards there, led by an older man with a scar on his chin.
“Dad.”
“Emma, we were so worried,” he says. Killian’s sword lowers slightly as her father steps forward and his eyes settle on the pirate holding her back, on his weapon. “Step away from my daughter.” He’d kill him. She knows he would. She can see it in his eyes, magic or no, he’s her father and he would destroy anyone who tried to hurt her.
“Dad-” Killian drops his sword but doesn’t leave her side.
“Seize him!”
“Dad, wait!” He doesn’t listen, guards grabbing Killian, dragging him off of her, and she reaches for him as her father pulls her to his side. “Dad, wait, no!” She’s crying now, shouting at him as she grabs for Killian’s hook.
He gives her a small smile that she knows he doesn’t feel, knows is just for her. “It’s alright, love.” He brings her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it before he’s dragged off. “I’ll find you,” he calls. “I promise. I’ll always find you.”
Emma turns to her father, grabbing at his tunic. He’s staring after Killian, an expression she can’t read on his face, but not the abject hatred and murderous intent that had been there a moment ago.
“Dad, please, don’t hurt him.” He finally looks at her, brow pinched in confusion, and she says the words she’d been so afraid to confess to anyone but Killian. “I love him. Please. Please, don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you want.” His eyes go wide, mouth falling open and she lets her head fall against his chest, somewhere that had always felt so safe. His hand comes to the back of her head, a reflex born of years of soothing her tears and her words are muffled against his shirt through her tears. “I can’t lose him. I love him. Please.”
***
The cell door beside his opens, another prisoner tossed in with a grunt and a few choice curses at the guards. The women in this kingdom certainly do have a way with words. “And here I thought I had the place to myself,” he says because even now, for all his years and all the time he’s had to learn better, he still hasn’t.
“You won’t have any place for much longer,” the guard says to him. Ah yes, those pesky gallows they keep mentioning.
“Ou, ominous,” the prisoner next to him says, laughing as the guard walks away. She’s a woman, he can’t see her, a thick stone wall separating their cells, but her voice is light despite its bite and her hands hang out the bars she leans against, distinctly feminine. “What did you do to piss them off?”
“Trespassing.” It’s not completely untrue. He did trespass in the castle. And he’d trespassed where he had no right being the moment he thought he could be a part of Emma’s world.
“Hanging for trespassing?” she demands. “Man, this kingdom is rough.”
“It was a bit more complicated than that.”
“How so?”
“Look, I’m not really in a chatty mood, what with my imminent death and all.”
“Ah, I get it. First time?”
He scoffs. “Not hardly.”
“Always nice to meet a kindred spirit.” Killian can hear her smile and he finds one tugging at the corner of his lip. He likes this woman. She reminds him of Emma in a way, the snark and the dark humour. “So, you’re not in a talking mood,” the prisoner says when he doesn’t answer. “Are you in an eating mood?” She sticks her hand out, offering a roll of bread. “It’s not much of a last meal but I was able to snag it off the guard's plate when he was tossing me on my ass.”
Killian takes it, not having eaten since this morning, hand slipping out of the bars to reach for it. “Thank you.”
She gasps when his hook flashes against the iron, but not in fear. “You’re the pirate who tried to kidnap the princess.” She sounds almost impressed.
“I wasn’t trying to kidnap her.”
The prisoner laughs. “Sure, and I wasn’t trying to rob that carriage.”
“I wasn’t -” he sighs. It’s pointless. There’s no reason to argue.
“Okay, I’m sorry. You weren’t trying to kidnap her. So what were you doing?”
“I was trying to find her.”
“... to kidnap her?”
“To warn her.”
“... That you were going to kidnap her?”
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I am, thank you.” He doesn’t answer. “So are you going to tell me what you were trying to warn her about?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because there’s nobody else to talk to and I might be the last person you talk to. You know, deathbed confessions and all that.”
He scoffs. “I’ve been in more dire straits than this and found a way out.” He begins doing just that, searching for a weakness in his cell, anything that could help him get free - or anything he could use to overpower the guard.
“And go where? This palace is a fortress.”
“To her,” he says to himself, but she hears them.
“Who? The princess?” He doesn’t answer. “Oh, do you want to tell me about it?”
“About what?”
“Come on now. You don’t seem like a stupid person, but you’re stupid enough to break into a castle to try and talk to her. And to break out of the dungeon and go right back to the same castle to find her. I mean, it’s not difficult to figure out. Life-in-danger stupid is the kind of stupid that’s only brought on by one thing.”
“Love,” he says quietly.
“Yeah. So, do you want to talk about it?”
He sighs. “What would be the point? I’m going to lose her no matter what now.” Either her parents will kill him, or they’ll find a way to keep her away from him forever.
“Because… Say you do die tomorrow; say this is your last night. If you can’t be with her, don’t you at least want someone to know your story? Don’t you want someone to be able to tell her that you spent your last hours thinking about her? I would.” A pang pulls at his chest. He hasn’t feared death in a long time, he’d not had anything to lose, to leave behind. “But hey,” she says, “maybe I’m just a romantic.”
“I… I promised her it would be alright. I knew it was a risk from the beginning.”
“So why did you do it?”
A small smile tugs at his lips. “You’d understand if you met her. I knew it was a risk, but I also knew that I had no chance, the moment I met her…”
***
Her father takes her down to the kitchen, dismissing the rest of his guards as he leads her to the table. He sets to making a cup of hot chocolate - ‘The best remedy for when my girls are upset,’ he used to say - and puts it down in front of her. She’s still crying and he’s looking at her like he doesn’t know what to do. It’s the first time in her life he hasn’t had an answer.
“Sweetheart, talk to me. What’s going on?
“Are you going to execute him?” The thought is so horrible, the question so harsh that her fingers shake around the mug.
“I… no. No, we won’t do anything until we know what’s going on. But you have to tell me.” Emma takes a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. “You… You said you love him.” She can tell the sentence is hard for him, both to say out loud and to wrap his head around. She nods.
“Isn’t he a little old for you?”
“Dad.”
It’s his turn to take a deep breath. “But… When…How long has this been going on?”
“A year.”
“A year?” Emma nods and he runs a hand over his face, processing - poorly. Her father clears his throat, stands and digs out a bottle of liquor. “We might need something stronger than cocoa for this conversation.” He pours two generous servings and drinks deeply from his. “Maybe you should start at the beginning.”
She takes the second and nods. “He saved my life.”
***
Killian told her the story of how they met; how she’d fought a pirate twice her size and twice her age, how brave and strong she’d been as she held her own until the very end. He told her how he saved her and brought her back to his ship, how she’d stayed the night and then never left. He told her of the months they spent on the Jolly Roger, how scared she’d been of her own magic, how beautiful, and awe-inspiring it had been to watch her come into her power.
He told her how she’d been the one to kiss him first, and he told her of the fear and doubt that had held him back. He told her how Emma fought him, every terrible excuse he could think of, and then asked him to let her try and love him. And he told her how she had. He told her how he fell in love with her, how every moment he spent with her made him love her more.
He told her how they knew she eventually had to go home, and how it destroyed both of them to leave the world they’d created behind. He told her how they would meet every fortnight in a tavern near the kingdom, and how they sailed away whenever they could.
He told her about their last meeting, their last night where she’d asked him to run away with her, to take her somewhere she’d never be found, to love her and be with her and forget the rest of the world. He told her how they both knew that was something they could never have.
“The next time I saw her, she wasn’t her. She was another Emma, one from a world where she and another version of me had somehow defied the odds. They’re happy, together, in love.”
“Another her?”
“It’s a long story,” he sighs. “There were wishes and stars involved.”
“Would you run away with her? If she asked you again?”
He thinks for a long moment. He hadn’t wanted to make her leave her family, her home, her birthright. But ever since he thought he lost her, now that he fears he’s lost her again… “Aye. If it was truly what she wanted, I’d sail away with her in a heartbeat.”
“What if she asked you to stay?”
“I don’t see how that would ever happen.” Where he is now attests to that.
“But if she did ask, would you?”
He feels a slight tug at his heart. It’s something that’s bothered him since that first time Emma asked him to run away with her, the first time he’d kissed her on the deck of his ship - she’s never asked him to stay. Perhaps it makes sense, she fits better into his world than he does into hers. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t give up everything for her - the Jolly, his crew, his life at sea…
“I’d be with her anywhere she wished rather than spend another day not by her side.”
The woman behind the wall is quiet, and he lets the moment hang in the space around him. It’s strange, to have confessed so much to a stranger, to feel such a weight lifted from his chest for it. But he feels relieved, as she’d suggested, that someone besides the two of them will know their story, that his love for her was real, and true, and that he loved her until his last moment.
“It’s morning, you know,” she says softly and he looks up, no light in the dungeons apart from the burning candles. But his body can feel the change in time, trained the way it has been for centuries to wake on his ship, to keep track of days and years in Neverland, and he realizes he spoke all night. “And listen.” He does, but there are no sounds apart from the dripping of water somewhere in the damp caves. “No drums.” She’s right. There are no drums announcing his execution, no guards come to take him to the gallows. “It looks like you might get that second chance after all.”
He hears the clattering chime of keys, a lock being turned and then the door beside him swings open. The prisoner steps out, coming to stand before his cell. She’s older than he expected, long silver hair with only a few remnants of black, ivory skin still lovely despite the passing of time, and eyes the colour of sea glass.
The woman rests a hand on one of the bars, looking at him with an intensity that holds him in place, keeping him from reaching for the keys she holds so near. “If everything you said is true, Killian-” Those eyes bore into him, a kindness behind the strength… Emma’s eyes. “Then I’m glad my daughter found you.”
***
David and Snow sit in their chambers, at the small table in the sitting room they’ve always used for these kinds of conversations, the difficult ones that called for debate and decisions. The Arguing Table, the king had once dubbed it. But now neither speaks, both lost deep in thought at the revelations that have been brought this morning. Their daughter has magic, something she’d been so afraid of them learning that she ran away, terrified of what they’d do to her.
They failed her. Their own fear and trauma passed on to the person they love most in the world. ‘Emma is the product of true love,’ Blue had told Snow when she’d gone running to her after Emma - or, not Emma - had used magic and then disappeared two days ago. ‘That’s the most powerful magic of all, and it creates a light strong enough to vanquish any darkness.’
They’d been scared, of course they had, the sudden power unexpected and bringing back so many horrible memories. But the fact that she believed they would turn against her, fear her and not the unpredictability of magic, it breaks both their hearts. They swore that if they found her - ‘When we find her,’ Snow had insisted - they would make it right.
And she’s in love. Their beautiful, wonderful, perfect daughter is in love - and she kept it from them. Snow had feared Emma would never open herself up to love again, not after that horrible man had come and toyed with her heart when she was so young and left her without a reason, so heartbroken that David had nearly hunted him down and killed him himself. Snow had nearly let him.
Their stories match up; after hearing what Emma told David, Snow believes that everything Killian told her in the dungeon was true, right down to her wanting to run away with him. She loves him so much that she would give up her home, her kingdom, them for him. And it stings, of course it does. But she’s their daughter, Snow knew she wouldn’t need them as much one day, that she’d find her own happy ending apart from theirs. Her husband is still not as convinced, staring at the fire with his hand at his chin, oscillating between disbelief and indignation.
“I still want to kill him.”
“David!”
“I’m not saying that I will. I just don’t like the idea of some pirate twice her age coming here and seducing our daughter away.”
“He’s not twice her age,” Snow says, as patiently as she can despite her exasperated sigh. “And she’s a grown woman, how old they are doesn’t matter. Besides, I think from what they told us, it was the other way around as far as who seduced wh-”
“Ah!” he grimaces, holding up a hand. “I don’t want to hear that.”
“Tough.” He looks up at her with those sad, hurt, puppy dog eyes he uses so well without ever meaning to. “He didn’t steal her away, Charming. He’s the reason she came home to us at all.”
Her husband, Prince Charming, knight and King of Misthaven, pouts, and slouches back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “So what, I’m just supposed to accept a pirate as a son-in-law?”
“If they decide that’s what they want to do, then yes. But this isn’t our parents’ generation, they don’t have to get married.”
“Oh, he’ll marry her,” David says and this time it’s a threat.
“Whatever they decide, I think we have to accept that he’s the one she’s chosen. And if we want to keep our daughter in our life, then he’s part of the deal.”
“But he’s a thief!”
“So was I.”
“He’s not of royal blood!”
“Neither are you.” He looks almost offended and Snow reaches for his hand across the table. “You didn’t hear the way he spoke about her, Charming… I think it might be true love.”
He sighs, shoulders sagging, turning his hand to hold hers. “I know.”
“You know what that would do to her if we tried to separate them - what she would do. We’ll lose her, David. I don’t want to lose my daughter.” He nods, squeezing her fingers affectionately and she knows he’s on her side. He always is - it just takes him a while to realize it sometimes.
“I suppose I could knight him,” David says, lost in thought again, clearly still not over the idea of having a pirate for a son-in-law.
Snow lifts their entwined hands, pressing a kiss to his thumb. “Whatever makes you feel better, darling.”
***
Emma hasn’t slept, up all night looking for Killian, then finding him, then losing him again and then sitting up with her father, telling him the story of how she met and fell in love with a man he doesn’t approve of. She knows he doesn’t approve. But he would probably never approve of anyone she chose to be with, overprotective since the moment the Evil Queen had threatened her, before Emma was even born. She fears what he would do to Killian if he knew about the baby.
Her hand settles over her stomach. He’d promised he wouldn’t harm him, at least not until they decided what to do about the situation, and he made her promise not to go looking for Killian. It was a promise she’d almost broken seven times in the few hours she’d paced her room before sunrise. What does he mean ‘when they decide what to do about the situation’? Would they send him away? Keep him locked in the dungeon for the rest of his life?
The relief she feels over her parents not fearing her magic pales in comparison to the anxiety that consumes her at the thought of being separated from Killian. She knows if they send him away, she’ll find him, and if they keep him in the dungeon, she’d get him out, or he’d get himself out and take her away. And her father knows it too. Which means the only true way to keep him from her would be - no. He promised.
It’s just after dawn when she’s summoned to the throne room, her footsteps echoing across the empty hall, no one but the King and Queen sat in their thrones, waiting for her. Her mother stands, crossing the room to take Emma’s face in her hands, kissing her cheek and then hugging her tight.
“I’m so sorry,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry you were so afraid to tell us.” Her voice is choked with tears she always lets herself shed, mighty queen or not. Snow releases her, looking at her again, eyes watery as she strokes her cheeks. “We love you, Emma. You’re our daughter. And we want you to be happy, no matter what that looks like.” Her eyes dart up to her mothers, hope blooming in her chest where her heart beats rapidly. “I know you told your father, but I want to hear it from you. Is he really what you want?”
“Yes,” she says without any hesitation. “More than anything, Mom… I love him,” she pleads and the queen’s tears begin to fall as a smile spreads across her face. She looks back at her husband, nodding.
“Bring him in.” Emma’s heart jumps into her throat at David’s words, turning to the large doors that are being pushed open by two guards. Another two file in, followed by yet another two who lead their prisoner inside, each holding one of his chained arms.
“Killian!” His head snaps to her, looking stunned to find her there, the wind knocked out of him as she sprints across the hall to throw herself at him. He can’t hold her, not with his hands cuffed in front of him, but he tucks his chin into the crook of her neck, speaking into her hair.
“Are you alright?”
She nods, not ready to let him go. “Are you?” He nods as well, but grunts when she squeezes him tighter. ‘Six guards seems a little excessive,’ she hears her father’s voice behind her, but she’s too busy pulling back to look at him, the cuts and bruises she’d not seen in the dark last night. ‘It was… necessary, Sire.’
Killian smirks. “Don’t worry, love, I’ve lived through worse. I just don’t bounce back as quickly anymore as I did when I used to sneak into young lass’ bedrooms.” Emma shakes her head at him and lifts a hand to his brow, tracing the curve of his temple and cheek and lets her magic seek out his pain, settling on his chest where she lets it flow out of her and into him, healing them all. He breathes a little sigh of relief. “Thank you.” She can feel the way the guards tense at her display of power, inching back slightly.
“Release him,” Snow orders. “And leave us.” The guards do as they’re told, freeing his wrists and leaving the throne room, shutting the door behind them. Killian’s arms come around her immediately, holding her close until her father speaks again.
“Come forward, pirate,” he orders and Killian looks up over her shoulder at the king, then at her.
“It’s okay,” she promises, because for the first time since she returned from that other reality, she has hope it will be. Emma slips her fingers between his, walking by his side to the thrones, her father doing his best to loom over him, to intimidate him, despite the way his hand is grasped around his wife’s.
“My daughter says she’s in love with you.” Killian turns to smile at her, barely a movement but she catches it before he’s looking seriously at the king again.
“Aye. And I love her.”
“And I’m sure you realize why this might pose a problem for us, both as rulers and as her parents.”
He smirks. “Ah, yes, the pirate thing.” Emma nudges him with her elbow and he squeezes her hand. So not the time for snark. Her mother seems amused though, pressing her lips together in a telling way.
“Yes, that. Obviously we can’t have a pirate courting the heir to the throne. And as she’s so determined to be with you, and we don’t wish to lose our daughter to a life at sea, it comes down to one question. Are you willing to remain in Misthaven and give up your life for her?”
Killian speaks at the same time as she does, refusing to let them force this choice on him. “Wait -”
“- Aye.”
No, no this isn’t what she wants. She doesn’t want him to have to give up the life he loves for her, the only one he’s ever known, his home, the sea… His thumb brushes over the back of her hand when David presses him.
“You’d give up your title? Your reputation? Your ship?”
She knows her dad’s just testing him now and she opens her mouth to call him out on it - there’s no reason he can’t have a ship even if he lives here. But Killian turns to her, eyes so full of emotion it stops the words dead. “I already have.”
Her heart is pounding in her chest, in her throat as she stares at him in disbelief. What does he mean he already has? She doesn’t get a chance to ask, David slapping a hand down on the arm of his throne.
“Then it’s settled. You’ll be a knight.”
“Well, nothing’s been made official, yet. We can figure out what works best -” Snow starts but he continues.
“And you’ll get married.”
“Only if you want to. And only when you want to.”
“We’ll have to do something to make sure the story is told to the kingdom the way we want it to. Rumours could -”
“David.” He goes silent finally. “We have plenty of time for all of that. For now, let’s just give them a moment, alright?”
“I still think he’s too old for her.”
Killian is still looking at her, nothing but love and hope in his eyes and she doesn’t know what to say, what to ask. What does he mean he gave it up? She thinks of the Jolly, empty and abandoned in that port not far away. Killian is never far from his ship, never leaves her unguarded. He brings their entwined hands to his lips, kissing the back of hers and she hardly notices her parents leaving the room, the hall empty now, just the two of them and her voice echoes despite how softly she speaks.
“Killian… Did you give up your ship for me?”
He doesn’t break her gaze. “Aye.”
Her heart is racing again. “When? How? Why?” None of the questions seem big enough to capture the scope of what he’s telling her, what she can’t wrap her mind around.
“When you were ripped away from me and sent to that other bloody realm. It’s how we got you back. I traded the Jolly for a wishing star.”
Emma frowns. “Traded? To who?”
She can see the apprehension that creeps over him, but he doesn’t falter. “Blackbeard.”
“What? Why would you do something like that? She’s your home.”
“Don’t you know, Emma?” She only stares, waiting, aching with guilt at what he gave up for her, what else he’s going to give up. “My home isn’t the Jolly Roger. It’s you. She’s nothing but planks of wood and a sail. That ship was my home because the only life I wanted to live was aboard her. Now that life is here, by your side - if you’ll have me.”
She’s crying now, tears slipping silently down her cheek. “I didn’t think that you’d want to stay, not when it meant giving up a life of adventure for court politics and dances.” It was why she hadn’t told him about the baby either. She didn’t want to tie him to her, to land out of obligation.
He smiles softly at her and she can see the tinge of hurt in it. “You never asked.”
“I didn’t want you to have to give up anything for me.”
His smile is sweeter now and he reaches to brush away her tears. “You were willing to give up an entire kingdom, a crown, and your family for me. Is it so unreasonable to believe that I would do the same for you?” He leans in to kiss her but she stops him before their lips can touch, a hand on his chest.
“Wait. I want to say something before you kiss me and I forget everything I’m thinking.” He gives her an amused smirk but nods. “When I was in the other reality, I met another version of you.”
“Aye. I had a similar experience.”
“He told me something.” She remembers the younger Killian’s words, ones she’d been so afraid to believe. But he’s given up so much for her and she needs him to know that it’s not just him, that he’s not the only one who found his home. “He told me that I’m your happy ending. But before you say anything,” she cuts off the words that had started to come out of his mouth and he shuts it. “I want you to know… that you’re mine.”
His eyes water at her confession, smile wobbly as he beams at her. “Now can I kiss you?”
“Yeah,” she laughs and he lunges forward, smile capturing hers in a way that she knows he’s here to stay. She never should have doubted it at all.
***
“I could get used to this, you know,” he tells her as they make their way up to her room, much to her father’s irritation - ‘We’ll get you set up in some quarters-’ ‘David.’ - and his amusement.
They’d spent the day patiently sitting through meals and plans and agreements with her parents, Killian constantly thrown off guard whenever a servant would appear, as though by magic, and offer him something to eat, or refill his cup when it was empty - something he would have to watch out for, lest he accidentally get sloshed in front of her father.
The halls they walk through now are ornate, carved stone and gilded windows, art the likes of which could buy a thousand ships decorating the walls. “I can’t believe you were going to give this up for a cabin and a galley.”
Emma snorts, hand holding his hook as they walk, swinging it between them. “One day in a castle and you’ve taken to the life?” she asks, parroting his words from so long ago. Killian only smirks.
“It’s a hard life to resist when it comes with such a lovely face,” he flirts and sees her cheeks flush even as she rolls her eyes. He reaches out and brushes a thumb over her blush. “And such a lovely colour.” He continues to trace along her jaw. “And such a lovely neck,” he says, fingers ghosting along the line of it.
Emma’s tongue slips out to run over her lip as her breathing shallows and he feels a pang of desire tug him closer. He’s not touched her, not properly, in over a week, and with the adrenaline of the last few days finally fading, he’s overcome with the need to feel her beneath his hand and mouth. He traces her collarbone, fingers inching towards the swell of her breasts, following the curve of the lace that hides her from him. “And such lovely -”
She pulls him down the hall, the last few meters to her bedroom where two guards stand outside, the same he’d done away with last night. “You can go, thank you,” she tells them, pushing the door open and dragging him inside. Killian can’t help the smug smirk he flashes at them before she shuts the door.
She grabs for him, tugging at the clasps of his vest as she scolds, “You can’t touch me like that in a hallway where my parents live and where there are a hundred guards constantly watching us.”
He raises an amused brow, shucking his coat and vest as she starts on the buttons of his shirt. “If this is your reaction, love, I think I very much can - and will.” He doesn’t give her a chance to answer, hooked arm wrapping around her waist, lifting her and spinning them so he can press her against the door. The wanton little gasp she gives when her back collides with the wood goes straight to his cock and he presses the hardening length into her as she wraps her legs around his hips, watching her bite her lip before claiming it for himself.
Gods he missed her. His mouth slants over hers finding her tongue and growling into her when her hands reach for his belt, tossing it to the floor and starting on his laces. This is hardly the way he’d intended for their reunion to go but her grip is already vice-like around him and he’s shoving her skirts up around her hips.
She strokes him hard, as though she can read his mind when she says, “we can go slow later.” There’s filth in her eyes and in her promise and he’s going to bloody lose his mind if he’s not inside her another moment. Killian takes her hands, forcing her to release him and pinning them above her head with hand and hook, the motion so familiar, too familiar.
He stops, memories of her - another her - splayed out on his desk while he fucked her like this and he knows she said Emma wouldn’t mind, but he does. His desire is replaced by guilt, and fear of her reaction when he tells her. Because he has to tell her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, sensing his change in mood.
“I…” He looks away, releasing her hands and they settle on his shoulders to steady herself as he lets her down carefully. “I have to confess something to you.”
“What is it?” Her voice is full of concern, for him and only for him, her hands gentle on his cheeks, stroking through the silver patches in his beard she knows better than him now. “You’re scaring me a little,” she says and he makes himself look at her, heart heavy.
“When the Emma from the Land Without Magic came here in your stead, she sought me out for help and I... I thought she was you and we shared… a dalliance. I’m sorry, love. If I’d known - I should have known.” He expects anger, fears hurt, but instead she sighs in what sounds like relief, a small smile at the corner of her lips before she rises on her toes and presses them to his. “You’re not angry?” he asks, pulling back in surprise, and relief.
She shakes her head. “You thought she was me, didn’t you?”
“Aye.”
“And you had no reason to think she wasn’t - I mean, she is me.” But she wasn’t. And that was what tore him up inside. “And, it would be hypocritical of me to be jealous.” He looks at her in question. “I thought… I thought you’d been cursed, given fake memories by the Evil Queen.”
“The Evil Queen?” She nods, his heart frantic at the thought of what danger she might have been in.
“I was terrified, and he - you - made me feel safe,” she says, hands gripping the collar of his shirt. “Like you always do.” He strokes a hand through her hair, glad that there was a version of him there to help her, to make sure she came back to him in one piece. He wouldn’t trust her safety to anyone else. “So if you’re guilty of something, then I suppose I am too. But I’m glad she found you, that she had you by her side because I don’t think I’d have made it through that ordeal without you either.”
“Emma,” he says softly, cupping the side of her face and kissing her brow. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And neither did you,” she says firmly. “I think that maybe you and I, Killian and Emma, are meant to find each other, to save each other, to fight for each other, no matter what world or circumstances we’re born into. We belong together. Always.”
His chest feels as though it was going to burst, swelling with the love he has for this woman, love that no time or place or distance or curse could ever falter. “I like the sound of that.”
“Good.”
He kisses her again, softer than before, hand gentle as he explores the length of her arms and back and waist through her dress. They have time for slow now. “You’re entirely over dressed,” he tells her and she nods, smiling as he reaches for her laces and begins to pull them free, mouth at her neck and then her breasts when he sends both dress and shift to pile to the floor.
“Now that,” he comments, looking over her shoulder, “is the biggest bloody bed I’ve ever seen in my life.” Emma laughs, one of the favorite sounds he knows he can draw from her. He scoops her up again, hand and hook wrapping her legs around his waist. “I say we make proper use of it,” he suggests, crossing the room.
He drops her on the mattress, watching her practically disappear beneath the thousands of pillows scattered over the blankets. He crawls over her, tossing them all aside one by one as he digs her out and she giggles. “First thing to go when I move in are these bloody pillows.”
Emma raises a brow, biting back her smile. “When you move in? That’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?”
He narrows his eyes playfully, dips his head to nip at her shoulder. “I believe I’ve all but been ordered to, love.” He nips her again, lower this time, teeth grazing over the swell of her breast. “And if there’s one thing a captain knows, it’s that orders must be obeyed.”
“Well, if they must, they must,” she says, long suffering and he kisses her quickly before sitting up to shuck his shirt, reaching for his brace. “Wait.” He stops and finds her watching him nervously, face flushing and he knows that expression. She wants something and she’s too embarrassed to ask for it.
“What is it?”
“I… Killian told me something else.”
He almost expected to feel jealousy, her blush and her hesitation making him think that he told her something in a very similar position to that in which they find themselves now. But he only finds curiosity, realizing it’s a rare and intriguing situation he finds himself in for her to have been with a version of him who didn’t share their history, who may know things about her that they’d not shared yet or that Emma doesn’t even know about herself. He remembers the ‘yes, captain’ that had fallen from the other Emma’s lips, something he’d not known he wanted to hear or that he would enjoy so much.
“I imagine he told you many things, he’s a very wise man,” he teases, lowering himself back down over her. She rolls her eyes a little but some of her anxiety wavers. He kisses her, chaste and sweet. “What is it, love? I’m not jealous.”
“He said that you take your hook off because you think I won’t like it - that most women are afraid of it.”
“Aye.” Insightful bastard, isn’t he?
Her eyes soften, fingers tracing the silver in his hair she’s so fond of as she brushes it back from his face. “Killian,” she sounds almost annoyed. “I’ve never been afraid of your hook. It’s as much a part of you as your hand or your wrist, or… any other appendages,” she flushes again and he smirks. Emma brings a hand to his cheek, eyes soft, serious. “I love every part of you, alright?”
He nods. “Alright.”
“Good. So only take it off with me if you want to. Not because you think I do. I know it makes you feel safer to have it on.” He was touched that she’d noticed, though he ever said anything, but after so many years of living at sea, at risk of attack at any moment, being caught without his brace and hook left him feeling vulnerable in more ways than one.
He leans down, lips falling over hers gently. “Thank you.” Emma reaches for him when he breaks the kiss, pulling him back down to her and presses her mouth to his. She kisses him slow and deep, mouths wide and tongues searching, Killian lowering himself over her as he tries to get closer. His stomach tightens at the small sounds she makes when her breasts press against his chest, when his hips lie flush with hers, the long, low moan she lets out when she feels his cock hardening against her.
He trails his mouth along her neck, tongue hot and wet against her skin as he tastes every inch of her. She gasps when he rolls his tongue over her nipple, pulling it into his mouth to nip and suck slowly, lazily and he can feel her growing more frustrated beneath him, clinging to his hair and back. Killian smiles against her skin, he knows that when she gets like this it’s so easy to make her come, that he’ll be able to do it again again on his fingers and tongue and cock. And it makes him wonder.
The high, choked sound that leaves her when he glides the rounded curve of his hook over her breast makes him growl low in his throat and he does it again, dragging the sharp tip in a slow circle around her nipple. She hisses out a ‘yes’, writhing slightly beneath him and gods he doesn’t think his cock has ever been so hard in his life.
He slides the edge over her stomach and watches her press her lips together in anticipation, nodding when he hesitates above the apex of her thighs. ‘Please’. The sight of her seaking her release on his hook is something he never thought he’d crave so desperately, and it drives him almost mad with lust.
His mouth closes over the peak of her breast again, hook between her legs, rolling over that sensitive bundle of nerves in time with the desperate rocking of her hips as he brings her to the edge once more. Her mumbled, incoherent pleas of his name and for more nearly make him spill himself in his leathers like a still wet-behind-the-ears lad. She’s always had this effect on him, the only one who seems to be able to defy his age and his experience and make him so bloody quick off the mark.
When he can see she’s nearly found her release, just at the crest of that clifftop, he slides between her thighs, thrusting into her and feeling her come on his cock. “Gods, you’re bloody brilliant, Swan,” he curses, rocking into her and relishing every exhausted little moan of pleasure that she lets out when he pushes back in. He can feel the ripples of aftershocks trembling around him. “Can you keep going, love?” he asks, watching the lazy way her back arches under him, her brow pulled low over tightly shut eyes, not wanting to push her past her limit with how tired she no doubt is.
He’d not meant it as a challenge, but he can see the way one flashes in her eyes when she opens them, narrows them at him, and then she’s pushing at his shoulder. He lets her roll him onto his back and he sits up when she falls over him to capture his mouth with hers, holding them both upright as she glues herself to him and kisses him until she draws a low moan from his chest.
She ruts her hips against his, a strangled cry falling from his lips as she smirks. “Can you?” He’s at a loss for words when her hand wraps around his length, rising and sinking down over him. His hand fists in her hair, drags her mouth back down to his and kisses her as she rocks against him. They pant and moan and gasp against each other’s lips, breaking away only enough to curse or speak words of praise and encouragement and pleas into the air between them as she moves over him.
He can tell that she’s close, the sounds leaving her faster and she pushes him down onto his back, leveraging herself on his chest as she rides him towards her release. She’s not a princess, she's a bloody goddess, golden hair falling around her shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she takes her pleasure, bringing him to the brink of his own.
He can’t not touch her, sliding over the length of her stomach, feeling each rise and fall of her ribs, closing his hand around the soft skin of her breast, thumb rolling over her hardened nipple. He traces up her neck to cup the back of her head when he feels her start to tremble around him, pulling her down to slant his lips over hers as he comes, hard and sharp and leaving him shaking, tasting her release on his tongue as she follows him over the edge.
“Gods, I missed you,” he breathes as she collapses over him. They lay panting for a long time, Emma’s weight a pleasant comfort over his chest and hips as he draws patterns over her back. When she eventually rolls off of him, he pulls her to him, tucking her back snugly against him and pressing a kiss to her ear.
“I think I’m a fan of this whole confession thing,” she says, still breathless and exhausted and he laughs. “Anything else you feel the need to get off your chest?” Emma teases.
“Not at the moment, love, but I’m sure I’ll be able to think of something once my heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to burst out of my chest.”
“I have one,” she says after a long pause and he can feel the shift in her mood. “I may have accidentally stolen the Jolly Roger back.”
“What?” He lifts his head and she looks over her shoulder at him.
“Yeah. I came back on board and it was empty and I brought it here to find you.”
“Bloody hell.” He wants to laugh. No doubt he’ll probably have to face Blackbeard at some point over it, but he’d not gone back on their bargain. Blackbeard had left the ship unattended and so it was taken from him. He beams at her, pressing a kiss to her lips. “You’re unbelievable.” His heart feels lighter. While he’d have traded it a hundred times over for the woman in his arms, he can’t shake the joy at having his ship back.
“Does that… change anything?”
“Like what?”
“Do you still want to stay? You have a choice now… more than you did when you said yes and I-”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Swan? There was never any choice. It was always you. I told you a year ago. I’ll be here until you send me away.”
A tear slips down her cheek but he knows it’s a happy one so he only kisses the trail it leaves in its wake. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Then I have something else to confess.”
“Oh?” he asks. Emma nods, reaching for his hand that’s still wrapped around her, resting over her heart. She draws it down until it rests low on her stomach and folds both her own over it. It takes him a moment, a heartbeat where he looks at her in confusion before it clicks and his heart doesn’t beat at all for a second. “Swan?” He looks up at her, searching her face for answers, not able to believe it, but she nods, lip caught between her teeth. “Are you sure?” His voice is rough, tears caught in the back of his throat.
“Yes.”
Killian shifts so she can roll onto her back, spreading his hand wider over her still flat stomach. He looks at her in awe more emotions than he has names for flooding through him as he leans down and kisses her belly. A child. His child, something he never thought he’d have. Milah hadn’t wanted any others after Bae and there’d been no one he’d wanted to share that with after she died. Until now.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“I’m bloody terrified,” he laughs, unable to look away from where his hand rests over the life they’ve created. Terrified and happy, the happiest he’s ever been in his long, long life.
“Oh, good, me too.”
He kisses her stomach again and then takes her face in his hand and kisses her the way he had when she told him she loved him, the same overwhelming joy and disbelief and honour. “Thank you.”
“I mean, you did half the work…”
He shakes his head, laughing as he kisses her again for her cheek. “For everything. For loving me, for fighting me on it, for bringing light and laughter and hope back into my life, Emma. I love you. So much. And I promise I’ll be there for you and for her,” he says, hand settling back over her stomach, “for the rest of my life.”
“Her?” she asks, her smile wet with tears that he wipes away.
“Aye. A little girl, strong and powerful like her mother, and born of true love like her as well.”
Emma pulls him down to her, kissing him hard and fast and he’s not sure whose tears are dampening their cheeks but he doesn’t care. “I love you.” She says it with so much certainty, a deep smile pulling at his lips. “But you remember that whole true love thing, okay. You’re gonna need it.”
Killian raises a brow. “Why’s that?”
“My dad might actually try and kill you for this.”
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#killian jones#cs smut#cs#cs au#captain swan fanfic#cs angst#wish realm au
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5, 7, 8, and 13 for the WIP ask game! 😁
JESSICA!!!!! HIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!
5. What fic surprised you with how much interaction it got this past year?
I know I mentioned Wishing it Wasn't when Hazel asked, but I also want to give honorable mention to This is (Kinda) The Way. I'd hoped it would do well, but was blown away by not only the lovely comments and kudos on ao3, but also all the interaction it got on tumblr. It was at the top of the sabezra and ezrabine tags for a couple days (and if you've blocked as many tags as I have you'd've seen it at the top of the sabine wren tag too,) which was such a huge encouragement to me as I recovered from my unfortunate accident 😅
7. Share a line/paragraph/snippet that you were especially proud of from a work this year!
I'm gonna go with this section from As The Sun Rose and Seasons Changed, because I waited almost a decade to see these two idiots from The Shuttle get engaged and am very glad to have been the one to do it:
"There's a reason I brought you out here today, Betty," he smiled, "you've always been clever, so I know you know what I'm going to ask you, but I'm going to ask it anyways, and it's going to be the most terrifying moment of my life."
"You've no reason to be afraid, James." She rarely called him by his first name rather than his title, but now it felt proper to do so.
"You've no idea what I fear to lose, Miss Vanderpoel," he said, "I know of your love for Dunstanwolde, and your disdain for its condition– and of my love for it as well. If all I were offering was my land and my title, to watch from the sides as you touch all around me with your life, I'd give even that. But what I ask is something deeper. I do not ask you to love a sullied name or a crumbled ruin. I ask you to love the man who holds nothing besides them," and here he took her hand and said, "I'm asking you to love me."
Still holding her hand, he knelt before her, one knee supporting him on the damp earth his ancestors had killed for and died on. Out of his pocket he pulled a ring, and held it before her.
"Bettina Vanderpoel," he asked, "will you marry me?"
He wasn't the first man who'd proposed to her– but somehow she'd hoped all along that he would be the last.
8. What's your favorite work you posted this past year?
if you think I'm gonna say the same thing I told Hazel and Iris, you are dead wrong.
Even though it's not perfect by any stretch of the word, I'm gonna say How We Rewrote the Stars. I intended it to just be a oneshot and posted it as such for sabezra week, but added more chapters after the fact. It was my first time posting an uncompleted work, which has always worried me because what if I wanted to change something? What if I messed something up in the first chapter? However, I took a leap of faith {which, fun fact, is the name I would've posted it under had I left it as a oneshot} and tried it out like that, and I'm proud of that!
13. What fic are you most excited to post in the upcoming year?
I'm very much hoping to finish the Gamergirl Sabezra AU by the end of the year, and can't wait to share it with you guys. I'm also working on a Captain Swan fic I've lovingly nicknamed the "romeo & juliet & boybands au." I haven't posted anything for Captain Swan since June, and that's the CS fic I have the most motivation to write, so it'll be lovely to post for such a lovely fandom again!
thanks so much for the ask!
📝 send me some asks from my ao3 writers ask game!
#kazzy writes#kazzy writes fanfic#ao3 wrapped#kazzy's kazootuals#kazzy answers asks#gamergirl sabezra au#cs romeo & juliet & boybands#saltinna#the shuttle#sabezra#this is (kinda) the way#captain swan#how we rewrte the stars#otp: im counting on you#otp: try something new darling#otp: a bargain from the ducal remnant counter
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Witchy Woman (7/10)
0.5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | AO3 | 8 | 9 | 10
LOOK AT THIS STUNNING ARTWORK BY @cocohook38
Summary: When Emma came into her position as Storybrooke Coven Leader, she ended things with the powerful Vampire Overlord, Killian Jones. She’s spent over a decade working alongside him and ignoring the growing tension between them.
During his best mate’s wedding, Killian decides he is done waiting. He is ready to have his mate back in his arms (and bed) again. Emma is not an easy woman to woo, but Killian has never backed down from a challenge.
When Emma’s jilted ex-boyfriend returns to town and Emma goes missing, Killian will stop at nothing to get her back and ensure that nothing can ever separate them again.
Rating: E
CW: Mention of domestic abuse, blood and blood drinking (vampires), threatening situations, minor violence, death, mention of parental death
Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)
Tag: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert
(let me know if you want to be added or dropped)
Lifting her gaze from the seemingly endless lines of tiny, irregular text in front of her, she let her eyes rest on the sight of the gorgeous vampire studying a similarly old and yellowed text. He toyed with his pen, cleverly manipulating it between his fingers, as he read unaware she’d stopped her own research. Her heart almost hurt as she took in features too perfect to be real, his cheekbones had been carved by a particularly gifted angel doing their best work, the perfection of his jaw was highlighted by deep amber scruff, and his eyes were the deep, rich blue of a clear winter sky.
He was focused, his tongue running under this sharp canine as he read. His fangs weren’t elongated now as they’d been when he ran them along her neck this morning. He had held her tight, thrusting deep into her, as she rocked against him chasing her pleasure. The scrape of his fangs had sent shivers straight to her core. The memory crept up on her all morning in vivid detail while they worked distracting her completely from the dull, ancient texts.
Emma heard so many things about the bite from a vampire. Connections between vampire pairs and vampires and their mates were deepened by the bite. Some claimed it was the most intimate connection any supernatural pairs could share - and werewolves could communicate telepathically with their mates. Most who were bitten by vampires agreed it was the most pleasurable experience they’d ever had - some even became obsessed, addicted to the bite. Emma wondered how enjoyable it would have to be to cause people to stalk vampires, seeking another hit of the venom. Older vampires were said to cause more pleasure. Killian was one of the oldest she’d ever heard of. What could his bite do to her?
“Does it really…” Emma felt her face heat when those stunning eyes looked up to meet hers. The intensity of his gaze heated her more than the question she had started to ask.
“Does what really what, Swan?” His voice was hardly more than a rumble. When he took in the deep blush blooming on her features, his lips quirked up in a heartbreakingly beautiful smile.
“Your bite, does it really enhance things?”
“Enhance things?” Killian’s eyes danced with humour. He clearly knew what she was asking and was enjoying her embarrassment entirely too much.
“Never mind,” she snapped and returned her attention to the book before her.
“Do you want to know what a vampire’s bite is like? Because you can read that in any of your many books on the subject.” Killian asked keeping his voice in that low villainous timbre. His eyes were rolling with that starlight of magic. “Or, are you asking what my bite, specifically, would do to you?”
“What would make your bite different?”
Killian’s gaze flicked away as he chewed over his next words. He turned his attention back to her and hesitated for a moment - his tongue wetting his bottom lip followed quickly by his teeth grazing over the spot. Why is he nervous?
“If I were to bite you, Swan, I believe it would transform our relationship completely.”
“Because you’re such a powerful vampire and I won’t be able to stay away from your allure after one bite?” Emma teased.
“No. Because when a vampire bites their mate, he gives her more of himself. You would see memories some memories as with most bites, but you would also know what I am feeling so long as my venom is in you. Since you are a witch, I expect there would be some exchange of our powers. I’ve heard powerful conduits,” he looked at her pointedly before continuing, “share an even deeper connection with their mates after their bond is solidified in this way.”
“You believe that I am your mate?”
“I know it to be so.”
“How?” Her voice was hardly above a whisper. “Don’t you have to taste my blood before you can be certain?”
“When your blood is fresh, I can smell it.” His cheeks were rosy at the admission as if it were something embarrassing to admit. “The night before you ended things, you had cut your hand while we were cooking together.”
“You’ve known all this time?” Emma murmured. “We’ve wasted all this time?”
“What’s a decade or two when you live forever?” He answered with a smile before adding softly, “For an opportunity to hold you again, I would have held out hope for us until we both ceased to exist.”
Tears pricked at her eyes. How did she come to have a love like his? Of one thing she was absolutely certain, she’d spend the rest of their infinite lives showing him that he was loved just as deeply and unconditionally as he loved her. She’d prove to him that his faith in them, his hope over all this time apart wasn’t wasted.
§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§
The Supernatural Gala held on the first night of the festivities was, Emma was certain, a form of torture banned by several governments. The dress that Anna had produced for her to wear tonight clung tightly to her form. She supposed it was fashionable and exquisite in its own right, but it made her skin itch and she felt a bit like she was playing dress up with her mum’s clothes, wanting to be the elegant grown-up that the finery suggested she should be.
Anna had transformed the dated ballroom into a scene that rivalled something from the Fae Courts. The high ceiling had become a clear night sky, twinkling with stars. The old wooden columns had been transformed into large, sprawling trees that reached toward the night sky. Their trunks were wrapped with cloth that shimmered as if it were woven from moonbeams. Flowers with petals so deep a blue that they might have been black bloomed on some trees, while others were filled with leaves the colour of freshly fallen snow. Music from an orchestra that Emma could not find drifted into the room and muted the conversations between guests. A few couples were dancing to the music, their movements impossibly complex and graceful. Most of the guests were standing in tight groups exchanging hollow pleasantries while they sipped endless glasses of wine.
“Amphitrite would envy how well you wear her waters.” Killian appeared by her side with a glass of wine and the warmth she hadn’t realised she was missing until his arm was wrapped around her waist. His perfectly tailored suit was the same fathomless blue as the ocean at night kissed by the moon, the same colour as her gown, the colour of his eyes when they darkened with need.
Emma rolled her eyes at him - as if his words and his muscular legs in those tight slacks didn’t affect her - and she plucked the glass out of his hand. She leaned into his side and he tightened his hold, his hook resting on her hip. She sipped at the wine gratefully before resting her head against his shoulder. “I hate these things.”
“I know, love.” He pressed a kiss into her hair. Emma adored that he didn’t press her further, didn’t try to convince her these were fun or necessary events, and didn’t brush off her comment with a dismissive, “It isn’t that bad.” Rather, he stood by her side making the whole stuffy night more bearable with his steady presence (and the wine - of course).
He took the empty glass from her hand and set it on a nearby table and offered his hand to her. “What do you say, Swan, would you dance with me?”
Emma smiled, laying her hand in his. “Why not?”
“That’s the spirit.”
She followed his confident movements in a complex dance that many of the other guests seemed to know the steps to as well. She knew the music must indicate the moves that were expected of the guests, but it all sounded like background music to her.
“It’s a waltz,” Killian murmured, answering her unasked question.
“Of course, you know how to waltz.”
“Mum was fascinated by balls and masquerades,” Killian spoke softly as he led her in a series of turns and complex steps. “She told Liam and me these fanciful, romantic stories of men and women falling in love as they danced together in ballrooms filled with magic and wonder. She danced with us, her little princes, humming the songs that she overheard from the ballrooms she was never invited into.”
The sadness behind his eyes at the memories tugged at her heart. She wanted him to know that he was not alone any longer and she was glad he’d shared such a precious memory with her. She wasn’t quite sure how to tell him just that, so she pulled him close to her, interrupting the graceful movements of the dance to kiss him.
He kissed her back as though she were the only thing that had ever mattered.
A cloud of white haze surrounded them, magic swirling, gently pulling and twisting until it wrapped them up tightly and transported them away from the noisy gathering. Killian raised an eyebrow when he saw the familiar walls of his bedroom surrounding them. Emma smiled back at him with a mixture of pride and mischievousness on her features. “That’s quite a trick, Swan.”
Smile still in place, she wiggled her fingers and his jacket and shirt were tossed carelessly onto the floor. He pulled her to him and kissed her again, nipping her bottom lip and soothing the sting with his tongue. She moaned lowly as his tongue tasted and teased her. He swallowed her moan. “You taste divine.”
“You’ve never tried a bite,” Emma teased.
Killian tensed in her arms. “Emma?” The emotion behind that one word cracked his voice as he searched her features for an answer to a question he didn’t dare ask.
“I want you to.”
“You’re certain?” He kept his eyes focused on hers, ensuring there were no traces of doubt or hesitation hidden somewhere in them. “Once we do this, we can’t take it back.”
Emma lifted to her toes to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. His stubble was rough on her lips, but it made her smile. Everything about this moment felt right. Her magic hummed and stirred around them as if it, too, agreed she was making the right decision. The fear she expected to accompany this decision was notably absent. Instead, she was filled with a pleasant hum of anticipation and an absolute certainty that this was going to be a wonderful thing for them to share. “I want to be yours in every way, Killian. That includes the way that vampires are together. I want you to mark me.”
“As you wish.” His voice was more growl, more vampire than she’d ever heard it before. Excitement spread through her - her chest and cheeks flushing a deep red. “You look absolutely delicious when you flush like that for me.”
Quicker than she could track his movements, he was behind her unzipping her gown and dragging his lips along her neck. The gown flowed to the floor, pooling at her feet. Killian sucked in a breath at the sight of her naked before him.
“So bloody perfect, Emma.” He told her as he carried her to his bed and laid her down almost reverently. He tugged off his trousers and pants in a quick motion. He kneeled before her. “I love having you laid out before me with your cunt dripping.” His warm breath flowed over her sensitive flesh, pulling a moan from her. “I haven’t even touched you yet, love.”
“Needy witch.” Then, his tongue was on her. He ran the flat of his tongue slowly up her slit, savouring the taste of her. He nipped lightly on her clit before licking and sucking at her folds again. He slipped two fingers into her, stroking her and building the tension up, while he sucked at her clit. Her hips lifted from the bed, desperately trying to reach her peak quicker.
“Impatient little thing,” he admonished softly, pulling his head away from her as retribution for her trying to take control. He trailed kisses along her thigh, smirking at the whines and curses flowing from her at his cruelty. She grabbed his hair and pulled him back to her centre. A low laugh escaped him, vibrating against her clit in the most wonderful way, and he returned his full attention to pleasuring her with his clever fingers and tongue.
He twirled his tongue around her clit in a motion that made her buck against him once again “Fuck, Killian.” She could feel him smile even as he continued devouring her. His rough stubble provided her with additional friction carrying her even closer to the edge.
The tension was almost too much, the release a moment away, when he sunk his fangs into her thigh. Warmth spread through her as he drank, she felt like she was floating away, a blissful haze welcoming her as she shattered around his fingers.
Pictures flashed through her mind, moments Killian had captured and held dear of them working together of her smiling at him of the yearning he’d felt over the years. Something deep, something eternal flooded her system as he smoothed the wound over with sweet kisses, murmuring praises into her skin as he watched her intently as if he expected her to regret it.
The words rushed out of her before she could think about it and stop them.
“I love you."
#cssns23#vampire!Killian#witch!Emma#Emma x Killian#Emma Swan#Killian Jones#Captain Swan#CS AU fanfic#CS modern AU fanfic#OUAT AU fanfic#inspired by Stay A Spell#ouat captain hook#killian x emma#cs fanfic#once upon a time#ouat#cs ff#art by cocohook38
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Pet for Rent, Chapter 2/4 (The Idea)
A CS Modern AU Story
Thanks for joining me for chapter 2! Writing this story has been a bit therapeutic for me after losing my Zeke, and adopting Winston has been, too. I hope you'll stay with me for the rest of the story.
Shout out to @kmomof4 who sent Winston the ducky toy he has in the picture. His Aunt Krystal spoiled him with a welcome package the week we got him!
Thanks so much to @hookedmom. I'm lucky to have the best and most patient beta!
SUMMARY: Emma Swan tries to cheer up her heartbroken son by 'renting' a dog from the local animal shelter. When she attempts to do it a second time, she makes a mistake, and realizes the dog has been rented by someone else the same day - a very handsome man named Killian Jones.
CHAPTER SUMMARY: Emma, Henry, Killian and Norman/Winston spend more time together. When Henry continues feeling sad about having to leave the dog at the animal shelter, Killian proposes an idea that might solve the problem.
RATING: M (for smut in the last chapter, which can easily be skipped if that's not your thing)
WORDS: 6821
ALSO POSTED TO Ao3 and FFN
Story begins under the cut
Emma didn’t think it was possible for four hours with a stranger to pass so quickly. Sooner than she expected, Killian was looking at his phone and announcing that it was time to return Norman to the shelter. It may have been her imagination, but it sounded like there was a note of wistfulness in his voice.
Henry took control of the dog on the walk back, giving the adults an opportunity to resume the conversation that had been ongoing throughout most of their time together. Emma watched her son handling Norman as he wandered from one side of the path to the other to explore in the tall grass and she commented, “Henry is gonna sleep good tonight.”
“I don’t doubt that. He told me he had his last game of the season this morning.”
“That, in addition to playing fetch and ‘keep away’ with Norman, and all of the running around he did with you, will have him zonking out early.” They walked on a few paces, before she added, “I want to thank you, Killian, for spending so much time with him. Since he doesn’t have a father, he doesn’t get a lot of one-on-one time with a man, so I really appreciate it.”
“It was my pleasure. He’s a good listener and a fast learner.”
“Yeah, I kinda wish he had more games left, so he could apply what you taught him. I’m afraid he’ll forget it by next season. You’re wonderful at teaching, and very patient.”
“Thank you, Emma. I truly did enjoy it.”
“The youth league is always begging for people to coach. Maybe you could do that next year.”
Killian looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I could, if I’m still here.”
“Any idea where would you go if you decide to leave?”
“Not really, but it wouldn’t be terribly far away. I want to stay close to Liam.”
When the shelter came into sight, Henry turned around and dragged Norman back to Emma and Killian. “I had fun today. Can we do this again?”
“I’ll have to check our schedule to see when we’ll have another chance to rent Norman,” Emma answered.
Henry shook his head. “No, I mean with Norman and Killian.”
“Oh, uh,” Emma stammered, glancing at Killian, who was scratching behind his ear. “I don’t know about that, kid. This was just an accident and Killian was nice enough to make the best of the situation.”
“But Mom, he had fun, too, didn’t you, Killian?”
“What did I tell you about putting him on the spot?”
“Sorry, Killian,” Henry apologized. “But it did seem like you were having fun.”
Killian reached forward to ruffle the boy’s hair. “It’s quite alright, lad, and you’re right - I had a very good time with you and your mother today. And Winston, of course.”
“You mean Norman,” Emma remarked.
“He still seems more like a Winston to me. Don’t you see the resemblance between him and England’s former Prime Minister?”
Emma took in the dog’s jutting lower jaw, drooping jowls and prominent forehead, and had to admit he did share some physical traits with Winston Churchill. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I do see it.”
“Anyway, at the risk of being too forward, it would be nice to have another day with you and your boy, if you’re amenable to that, Swan.”
Emma thought for a moment, then said, “Henry, why don’t you take Norman to the end of the path and give us a minute, okay?”
He started to protest, but seemed to think better of it. “Come on, Norman. Mom doesn’t want me to hear what she’s gonna say.”
Emma watched him go, her mouth agape over his comment. She heard Killian chuckle and turned to look at him.
“He’s quite a bright young man,” he laughed.
“Yeah, he’s getting too smart for his own good,” she agreed. “But he’s still a little boy and I’m a protective mom. I don’t want to promise him something that’s not going to happen, so if you’re not serious about doing this again…”
“I assure you, Emma,” he interrupted. “I wouldn’t dream of letting him down. If you’re willing to give me your contact information, I’ll send you some options and we can figure out a day that works.”
She eyed him critically for a few seconds, seeing nothing but sincerity in his expression. “I know Henry would really like that.”
“Only Henry?” he asked, quirking a brow.
She couldn’t help but smile. “I have to admit, I had a really good time today, too. So, um, to answer your question, I am, how did you say it, amenable to doing it again.”
His grin made her heart do a pleasant little flip. She made sure Henry and Norman were okay while waiting for Killian to pull out his phone and start a new contact. Once he did, he handed it to her so she could add her information.
After handing it back, they began walking again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him checking the phone screen. “It’s not a fake number, by the way,” she said.
“That’s good to know,” he returned with a smirk, while typing out a text to her so she would have his info. “Is that something you’ve done before?”
“Maybe,” she replied cryptically.
“In that case, I feel honored that you gave me the real thing.”
She giggled in response, giving him a slight nudge with her elbow as they reached the end of the path.
“What did you say, Mom?” Henry asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Killian and I are going to look at our schedules to find a day that works.”
“Yay!” Henry shouted. “How about next Saturday?”
“Calm down, kid. I told you we’re going to figure it out.”
They arrived at the shelter and Killian opened the door and held it for them. David was sitting at a desk behind the counter, tapping away at the computer keyboard. He looked up with a broad smile when they entered. “How did it go?”
“Good,” Emma replied. “Thank you for allowing us to borrow Norman for the day.”
David looked between the two adults standing before him, obviously wanting more details. “Did you…all of you…get along okay?”
“Yes we did, Dave,” Killian said smugly.
There were several seconds when all they could hear was the barking of some of the dogs in the back. Finally, David sighed. “Alright, I guess I’ll just take Norman back to his cage, then.”
“Oh, uh,” Emma said, giving Killian a wink, “one of us will be in touch to schedule another day for us…all of us…to rent Norman again.”
David’s grin told them he knew exactly what that meant.
🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾
“I hear you met my future brother-in-law,” Belle said. It was Monday, and Emma had stopped at the library to return a couple of books and choose some more before her shift at the sheriff’s station.
“News travels fast.”
“Killian always eats lunch with us after church. He told us about the mix-up at the animal shelter and said he had a great time with you and Henry.”
“He seems like a nice guy,” Emma said, moving to a shelf and studying the books more closely than necessary.
“He thinks very highly of you, too.”
Emma shot her a brief glance. “Oh, yeah? What did he say?”
“Well,” Belle began, clearly struggling to be non-chalant, “he said you were very easy to talk to and he enjoyed your sense of humor. He also said he had fun helping Henry with his soccer skills.”
“He was really good with Henry and I, um, I liked talking to him, too. He’s supposed to contact me to figure out another time to rent Norman together. Henry asked if we could.”
“I don’t suppose you protested too much, did you?”
Emma chose a book off of the shelf and studiously perused the summary on the back. “You know I want my kid to be happy.”
Belle crossed the space between them and laid her hand over the book, garnering Emma’s full attention. “To the best of my knowledge, you’ve never once introduced your son to a man you may be interested in dating in all the years I’ve known you.”
“Wait a second…first of all, I didn’t introduce him to Henry - we met accidentally, and secondly, who says I’m interested in dating him? We’re simply planning to rent Norman together again. It’s really not a big deal, Belle.”
“If you say so, but I have to tell you that I’ve never seen Killian so animated while talking about someone. You certainly made an impression on him.”
“I’m sure I did. Dressed in old sweatpants and a hoodie, no makeup, hair a complete disaster - I was a mess.”
“He didn’t mention that. He just talked about how he enjoyed the time he spent with you and how much he’s looking forward to seeing you again.”
Emma could feel her face heating and knew she must be as red as the leather jacket she was wearing. She wasn’t ready to admit that she was just as eager to see him again, too.
🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾
That evening, Emma had just finished checking over Henry’s homework and shooed him off to the shower, when her phone dinged with an incoming text. Picking it up from the kitchen counter, she couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face upon seeing Killian’s name.
K: I’m hoping this message reaches Emma Swan. If I’ve reached someone else, you can blame it on her. It was followed by a smirking emoji.
She shook her head at his ridiculousness, and decided to play along.
E: I’m afraid you’ve been misled. This Emma Swan must be a horrible person. She added a winking emoji.
It took a few seconds for the three bubbles to pop up, then she laughed out loud when she read his reply.
K: Oh, she is a terrible, awful person to give me a fake number.
E: She’s probably not used to giving out her number to random men who just happened to rent the same dog she did.
K: That seems to be a plausible excuse. Perhaps I should forgive her.
E: Oh, you most definitely should.
K: Very well. If I’m ever fortunate enough to see her again, I shall grant her my forgiveness.
E: That’s very gentlemanly of you.
K: I’m always a gentleman.
Emma heard the clothes hamper lid slam in the bathroom, signifying that Henry was finished with his shower.
E: I need to get Henry into bed. I’ll be back in twenty minutes or so, depending on how resistant he decides to be tonight.
K: Tell him I said goodnight.
E: That will probably get him all excited and it may be longer than twenty minutes.
K: I’m willing to wait.
Emma left her phone on the sofa and went to Henry’s bedroom, where he was getting settled under the covers. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she brushed his damp bangs away from his forehead.
“Did you brush your teeth?”
“You ask me that every night.”
“Yes, and half the time you’ve neglected to do it.”
“I just have to brush them again in the morning.”
Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you, or didn’t you?”
He sighed dramatically. “I did. Wanna smell my breath to make sure?”
“Not particularly. I believe you. Ready to say your prayers?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Name three things of thanks,” she said, initiating their nightly tradition.
Henry tapped his chin in thought. “I scored two goals at recess.”
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah, I used what Killian taught me. Oh! That’s my second thing - meeting Killian.”
“Actually, he texted me while you were in the shower.”
“He did? Did he say when we can rent Norman together again?”
“We haven't had a chance to discuss it yet. He did say to tell you goodnight.”
“Tell him I said goodnight to him, too.”
“I will. What’s your third thing?”
“Umm…we changed seats in class and now I’m sitting beside Avery.”
“Just make sure the two of you don’t get into trouble for talking too much.”
“We won’t.”
“Good. Now, what three things do you want to ask of God?”
“To help me do good on my math test tomorrow, to send me another dog, and to let us see Killian again soon.”
They both folded their hands and closed their eyes while Henry said his prayers. When he finished, Emma read him a chapter of Fantastic Mr. Fox, kissed him goodnight and left his room, turning off the light on her way out.
Picking her phone up from her couch, she scrolled through the text conversation with Killian, smiling at the light banter they shared.
E: I’m back.
When a response didn’t come through for a couple of minutes, she went to her bedroom to change into her pajamas. Then she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and applied moisturizer.
When she went back into the living room, she saw a new message on her phone.
K: Is it okay if I call you? I’m not fond of texting.
She noticed that the time stamp was right after she put her phone down, over ten minutes ago. Instead of answering, she brought up his contact and hit the call button.
“Hello, Swan.”
“Hey, sorry if I kept you waiting.”
“I was hoping I didn’t upset you by asking to call.”
“No, nothing like that. I just decided to do my nighttime routine,” Emma explained. “Henry said to tell you goodnight, by the way. I always ask him to tell me three things he’s thankful for from his day, and you were involved in two of them.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. He scored two goals playing soccer today at recess, because of what you taught him, and he was thankful for meeting you. That’s the third night in a row he’s said that one.”
“That’s very kind of him to say.”
“Well, you made quite an impression on him and he’s eager to see you again. Speaking of which, what does your schedule look like for the next few weeks?”
“It’s wide open, actually. Do Saturdays work best for you?”
“Yeah, because Henry is in school during the week and I work until five every day. I also work one Saturday a month. This coming Saturday is the one I work this month.”
“How about the following week?”
She switched him to speaker and pulled up her calendar app. “That looks good. Henry gets a haircut that morning at nine, but we could meet after that. The weather is going to start getting too cold if we wait much longer.”
“Liam has been telling me to be prepared for a cold winter. He says Maine is quite a bit colder than England during the winter months,” he stated. “Shall we make plans for that day, then?”
“Sounds good to me. Want to meet at the shelter at ten-thirty?”
“Actually,” Killian began, then paused for a few moments before clearing his throat and continuing. “I was wondering if you would agree to me picking up the two of you to go to the shelter together.”
Emma bit her lip, considering his offer. Her gut instinct was to decline because it would seem too much like a date, but her practical side said it was logical for them to make the twenty minute drive together.
She knew he was waiting for her answer and was probably having second thoughts about asking, since she was taking so long. “Um, sure, that would be fine,” she finally said. “I’ll text my address to you.”
“Okay, good. Shall we say ten o’clock? Will that give you enough time for Henry’s haircut?”
“Yeah. It only takes about twenty minutes, if that long. His barber is Jefferson and he’s pretty fast.”
“Liam recommended him and I had an appointment there a couple of weeks ago. He is fast, if a little…quirky.”
“Oh, you mean because he wears the top hat? I guess he’s trying to live up to the name of his shop.”
“Just naming his shop the Mad Hatter of Hair makes him sound a bit eccentric.”
Emma laughed. “He’s harmless, though. His daughter Grace is in Henry’s class and she’s very sweet. Jefferson is raising her by himself. His wife passed away before Grace started kindergarten.”
“How sad. Now I feel bad for judging him.”
“I wouldn’t say you were judging him, just making an accurate observation. I knew him before his wife died and he was every bit as quirky as he is now.”
They continued talking for another twenty minutes. Just like the day they met, the conversation didn’t lag at all as they transitioned easily from one subject to another. Before they ended the call, Killian asked if it would be alright to call her again later in the week and she agreed without hesitation.
Lying in bed that night, Emma smiled dreamily as she replayed their conversation in her mind. She may be venturing into self-imposed forbidden territory ever since Henry’s father abandoned her, but Killian Jones intrigued her and she couldn’t find it within herself to care.
🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾
Killian called Emma four more times over the next two weeks. Their conversations lasted longer each time, until they spent over an hour talking and laughing on Thursday, before their scheduled outing.
He suggested that they take Norman back to Storybrooke’s nature preserve after picking him up, which she thought was a great idea. She mentioned that she and Henry spent quite a bit of time there during the summer, hiking the trails and wading in the creek. Despite intending to visit, Killian hadn’t been able to get there yet and was happy to know his first time would be with Emma, Henry and Norman.
Saturday morning found him taking more time than usual to get ready. He chided himself for being a bit vain, but wanted to make the extra effort for the lovely lady Swan. If things went well, he was planning to ask her out on a proper date.
He had confided his intention to Belle, hoping she would give him advice about where to take Emma, should she agree. Not only did his future sister-in-law present him with recommendations, she also mentioned that she would be happy to watch Henry, and was sure Liam would, too.
Once Killian was satisfied with his appearance, he tried to occupy himself until it was time to drive to Emma and Henry’s house. After going online and paying some bills, washing the few dishes in the sink and sorting his laundry, he still had about twenty minutes left.
His heart sank when he heard the notification for an incoming text, thinking it might be Emma cancelling their plans. He was relieved, then a little apprehensive to see it was from his brother. Belle promised she wouldn’t say anything to Liam about his plans to ask Emma on a date, but they were an engaged couple and couples weren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other. Unfortunately, his former girlfriend hadn’t abided by that rule, since she kept one whopper of a secret from him.
L: Any plans for this afternoon, little brother?
Killian dropped his head back with a sigh. Not only did Liam insist on calling him that irritating moniker, now he had to explain that he did indeed have plans. He was sure he would have to answer questions about what they were and with whom, since he rarely did anything on the weekends.
K: Actually, I do.
L: Oh, really? What are you doing?
K: I’m renting Winston from the shelter again.
L: Great! Belle is working today. Would you mind if I came over to see the little guy?
Killian’s thumbs hovered over his screen, trying to decide how to tell his brother no without sounding rude. Even though Liam was acquainted with Emma, he tended to be over protective, and Killian didn’t want him giving her the third degree or making her feel uncomfortable. Plus, he selfishly wanted to spend time alone with her and Henry.
Glancing at the clock, he saw it was almost time for him to leave. Quickly, he typed a message he was hoping would appease Liam.
K: Sorry, not this time. Emma, Henry and I made plans to spend another day together with him.
As he pulled on his jacket, he heard another notification. Closing his eyes momentarily, he opened them to read Liam’s message, then released a relieved breath.
L: I hope the four of you have a good time, so I can see that look of happiness on your face again.
🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾
“Henry, Killian’s here!” Emma announced, dropping the curtain after seeing his car pull up to the curb.
“Coming!” she heard him yell in response.
She quickly ducked into the bathroom and inspected her appearance in the mirror one more time. She hoped to make a better impression on Killian by applying light makeup and pulling her hair back into a neat ponytail. Her outfit was simple - jeans, sneakers, her favorite light blue blouse, and red leather jacket.
The doorbell rang as she re-entered the living room, but before she could get to the door, Henry sped past her to pull it open. “Hey, Killian!” he said excitedly.
“Hello, lad,” Killian answered, then shifted his eyes from Henry to Emma. She saw him swallow before giving her one of his winning smiles. “Good morning, Emma.”
“Hi, Killian. You’re right on time.”
“Not being prompt is bad form, Swan.” Looking at Henry again, he stated, “Your haircut makes you look a bit older.”
Henry reached up to run both hands along the sides of his head. “Do you really think so?”
“Aye, at least a year or two.”
“Please don’t say that,” Emma said, handing Henry his jacket. “He’s growing up way too fast as it is.”
During the drive to the shelter, Henry talked about one thing after another. Emma wondered if Killian would tire of her son’s constant chatter, but his questions at regular intervals proved he was fully engaged in what Henry had to say.
Meanwhile, she spent the time admiring the man beside her. He was dressed in dark, stonewashed jeans, an army green button-down shirt, and the same black leather jacket he wore the first time they met. His scruff was neatly trimmed and his dark hair artfully combed. His rich laugh at some of Henry’s comments was a sound she was sure she would never get tired of hearing.
When they entered the shelter, David gave them a smug smile that Emma tried to ignore. She knew he was probably patting himself on the back for his matchmaking, but she really didn’t mind, because meeting Killian was, so far, a positive experience.
Norman was extremely excited to see them again, and after everyone got into the car, they were on their way back to Storybrooke. Henry was preoccupied with Norman in the back seat, so the adults finally had a chance to chat with each other. Their conversation was as free-flowing as it had been every other time they spoke in the past two weeks. Emma had never met anyone so easy to talk to, and wondered if it was because their backgrounds were so similar.
During their earlier phone conversations, she learned his father had abandoned his family when Killian and Liam were little, leaving their mother to raise them alone. She shared how she was abandoned at a fire station baby box when she was less than a week old, and had never been adopted. They both had been in situations where they were deceived and misled by the person they loved. Emma came to realize that being able to empathize with someone else made it easier to connect with them, just as she had with Killian.
The crisp autumn weather was perfect for hiking at the nature preserve. They explored all of the available paths and walked along the shores of the creek. The water was too chilly for wading, but Norman enjoyed splashing in now and then when he spotted a particularly intriguing leaf, bug or stick.
After hiking for a couple of hours, they took a break to drink Gatorade and snack on protein bars, thoughtfully packed by Killian. He also had treats for Norman, which Henry used to try and teach the dog again how to sit on command.
They stayed until the last possible minute before getting into the car for the drive back to the shelter. No one spoke for several miles, until Henry finally said, “I really wish we didn’t have to take Norman back there. He’s always so sad. Why can’t we just adopt him, Mom?”
Emma glanced over at Killian, who met her eyes for a second before directing his back to the road. “I wish we could, but it wouldn’t really be fair to Norman. We’re both gone all day and he would have to be penned up that whole time.”
“But he loves us and we love him!” Henry exclaimed. “Ernie didn’t have to be penned up and he was fine during the day.”
Emma turned to look at her son. “I know, kid, but it was easy with Ernie. He was with us for several years and was older. Norman is young and full of energy, so he’s going to need a lot more attention and training. I wouldn’t trust him being in the house all day by himself.”
Henry heaved a huge sigh. “Okay.”
They were all silent for the rest of the drive. Emma saw Killian look at her out of the corner of his eye once in a while, but they didn’t carry on a conversation. She spent the time thinking about the practicality of adopting Norman, but knew she would have to stick to her guns, because it just wouldn’t be fair to the rambunctious dog to be cooped up all day.
When they reached the shelter and exited the car, Killian slowed Emma down by placing a hand on her arm, while Henry entered the building with Norman. “Emma, I’ve been giving it some thought and I have an idea, if you’re open to it.”
She shrugged slightly. “Sure, let’s hear it.”
“Perhaps, if you adopted Win-, er, Norman, I could keep him during the day while you’re at work and school. I could pick him up in the morning before you leave and drop him off after you get home.”
“Sort of like shared custody or dog sitting?” she asked, turning to face him.
He chuckled. “Aye, something like that, I suppose.”
“I don’t know, Killian. That seems like a pretty big commitment between people who barely know each other. You’re not even sure you’re going to stay in Storybrooke.”
He scratched behind his ear. “If I move, it won’t be for a while, since I signed a six month lease on my apartment. That would give us time to train the dog. I know we’ve just met, but I…I’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your boy. I’m hoping this is just the beginning of our friendship.”
Emma stuck her hands in the back pocket of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. “I hope so, too, but I’m still not sure about the arrangement you’re suggesting.”
“I completely understand,” he said, then paused before asking, “Are you counting it out altogether, or will you consider it?”
She pulled her lip between her teeth in thought for a few seconds. “I’ll consider it,” she finally answered.
He gave her a small smile, then moved to open the door for her.
They went inside to see Henry sitting cross-legged on the floor with Norman, the dog’s head resting on his leg. David was listening to the boy give him a detailed description of their day at the nature preserve and looked up to give them a big grin. “Sounds like you had quite the adventure today.”
“Aye, we all had quite a workout,” Killian responded. “It’s quite a lovely place.”
“Yeah, we’re lucky to have it in Storybrooke,” David said. “Mary Margaret takes her class there on a field trip every year.”
Henry’s head whipped around. “Mrs. Nolan didn’t take our class!”
“It’s early in the school year,” Emma said. “I’m sure she’ll take you sometime.”
“They usually go in the spring,” David explained, as he walked around the end of the counter. “Are you ready for me to take Norman?”
“No,” Henry said, his voice muffled as he buried his face in the dog’s neck.
The three adults exchanged understanding looks. They gave the boy a couple more minutes, before Emma picked up the end of the leash and put her hand on Henry’s head. “It’s time to say goodbye to him, kid.”
Henry drew back to look at Norman. “Goodbye, boy. I’m gonna miss you.” He kissed the dog on top of the head and rubbed his ears.
Emma reached down to pet the dog, then handed the leash to David. Killian stood beside her to pat Norman, too, telling him to be a good boy.
David bid them all goodbye, then headed to the back with the dog reluctantly following him. Henry looked up at Emma from where he still sat on the floor. “Mom…”
“Henry, don’t say it. I already told you why it’s not a good idea to adopt him right now.”
“Right now? Does that mean we can adopt him later?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Emma replied, giving him her patented ‘don’t push it’ look. “Let’s go, kid.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Henry pushed himself to his feet and followed her out the door Killian was holding open. Once they were in the car and on their way to Storybrooke, Killian asked, “Would you, um, would the two of you like to get a late lunch at Granny’s, when we get back?”
“What do you think, Henry?” Emma threw over her shoulder.
He turned from where he had been glumly staring out the window. “Can I get a cheeseburger and fries?”
“Sure.”
“And a chocolate milkshake?” When his mom didn’t answer immediately, he added, “Please? It’ll make me less sad about Norman.”
Killian chuckled lowly as Emma rolled her eyes, muttering, “I’m raising a con artist.”
🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾
Killian mentally kicked himself the whole way back into town. What was he thinking, asking Emma to agree to what was basically a long term commitment? He probably ruined his chance for asking her out on a date, too. He was sure she would think he was coming on too strong, if he did.
At least she agreed to have lunch with him. Hopefully, she would also allow him to continue calling her. Those phone calls and the texts they shared were always the highlight of his week.
As much as he enjoyed his time with Emma, having Henry with them made it even better. Killian hadn’t had a lot of interaction with children, but it was easy being around Emma’s son. He was bright, articulate and funny - very much like his mother. He was also respectful and well-mannered.
On the day they met, Emma confided to him that she was afraid she was making a lot of mistakes as a single mom, who never had a mother of her own to set an example, but he strongly disagreed. She wasn’t perfect - no parent was, but Henry seemed to be well-adjusted and confident, so she was obviously doing many things right.
Killian saw how much Henry loved the dog and wished he could help make the boy’s desire to adopt him come true, which is why he made the offer. He had come to love the furry little rascal, too, and would seriously consider adopting Norman himself. He just didn’t know if he could take the dog with him if he decided to move away from Storybrooke.
He pulled up in front of Granny’s, cut the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, as he heard Emma and Henry do the same. Typical of a young boy, Henry took off running and was already skipping up the steps to the front door by the time Killian reached Emma’s side.
“He’s pretty excited,” Emma explained. “Eating out is kind of a treat because we don’t do it very often.”
“I hope I wasn’t out of line for asking,” Killian said.
“No, not at all. It really perked him up.”
Killian halted at the bottom of the steps, causing Emma to stop and look at him. “I also hope I didn’t upset you by making the offer to watch Norman.”
“You didn’t,” she assured him. “I’m definitely going to think about it. I really miss having a dog around, too. I just have to weigh all the pros and cons.”
He smiled and nodded his understanding, then bounded up the steps to open the door. Henry was at the counter talking animatedly to Ruby, who looked up and gaped at Emma in surprise.
“Hey, girl! I didn’t realize you knew the very handsome new guy in town!”
Killian could feel his ears turning red, when Emma glanced at him before replying. “Hi, Ruby. Actually, we met by accident a couple of weeks ago.”
“By accident, huh? Did you hit him with your car or something?”
“Nothing like that. We were both renting the same dog at the animal shelter.”
“Was seeing him today another accident?”
Emma put her hands on her hips. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. It was planned this time.”
Killian wasn’t sure he had ever seen such a wide grin on the waitress’s face. They all gave Ruby their drink order, then Emma ushered Henry to a booth and Killian slid in across from them.
“Are you getting lasagna?” she asked.
“I think I’m going to try the grilled cheese and onion rings. Someone recommended them to me,” he smirked.
“Very intelligent person,” Emma grinned.
“Aye, that she is.”
Ruby arrived at their table with their drinks and Henry’s milkshake. She gave Emma and Killian another broad smile when she took down their identical orders. “His and hers grilled cheeses, huh? Maybe there’s some truth to the saying that couples begin to eat alike.”
Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. “I think the saying is that couples start to look alike, and we aren’t a couple. We’re just friends.”
“I see,” Ruby said, glancing at Henry, who was busy spooning the thick milkshake into his mouth. “Well, they do say there are benefits to being friends.” She gave them an exaggerated wink, then turned and made her way to the kitchen.
“Ruby isn’t exactly the epitome of subtlety,” Emma said, a blush filling her cheeks with color.
🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾
“It was nice of Killian to take us to Granny’s today,” Henry said, as he was climbing into bed that night.
“Yes, it was. I was very proud of you for remembering to thank him without needing a reminder.”
“Thanks for letting me get a milkshake, even if it didn’t make me stop feeling sad about not being able to adopt Norman.”
Emma tucked the covers around his shoulders. “I know, but try not to think about it.”
“I can’t,” Henry pouted. “He’s probably crying himself to sleep tonight.”
“I think he’s probably going to sleep remembering all of the fun we had today.”
Henry stubbornly shook his head. “Nuh-uh. He’s wondering why we didn’t bring him home with us.”
“Henry,” Emma sighed, “I know you’re sad, but we just can’t…”
“I know,” he interrupted, “you keep saying it wouldn’t be fair for him to be alone all day, but he’s already alone at the shelter all day, except for Mr. Nolan, and at night, there’s nobody there at all.”
“There’s other dogs and cats…”
“That’s not the same. They’re all in cages by themselves. If we adopted him, he could sleep on my bed, like Ernie did.”
Knowing she was going around in circles with him, Emma reached over and picked up the book from his nightstand. “How about if you say your prayers after I read to you tonight?”
Heaving a dramatic sigh, he said, “Fine, but it’s not gonna make me forget about Norman.”
After reading to him for fifteen minutes, hearing his prayers - which mentioned Norman and Killian several times - and kissing him goodnight, she left his room. Heading into her own bedroom, she went through her nightly routine automatically, lost in thought.
Once she was in her pajamas, free of make-up and teeth brushed, she peeked in on her son to find him sound asleep. She made sure the front door was deadbolted, turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room and went back into her room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared at the phone in her hand, mind racing.
Finally, she pulled up Killian’s contact and hit the call button.
She was almost ready to hang up after it rang four times, not wanting it to go to voicemail, when he answered. “Hello, Swan. I wasn’t expecting to talk to you again so soon.”
“I hope I’m not calling too late.”
“Not at all. What’s on your mind?”
“Henry was still upset about Norman before he went to sleep. I feel like I’m being selfish by not allowing him to get a dog.”
“Why do you feel that way?”
“Because one of my excuses is that a dog is a lot of work and would need training, which it would. I’m making it seem like all the work would fall on me. Now, I know Henry is only eight, but I think he’s pretty responsible for his age.”
“From what I’ve seen, I would agree with that,” Killian cut in.
“Thank you. Anyway, I think he would be able to help train and take care of the dog, so that excuse is out the window. The other big concern I had is that the dog would have to be home by himself all day, which brings me to the reason I’m calling. I’ve been seriously considering your offer, if it’s still on the table.”
“It is.”
“Are you sure that’s not asking too much of you? I mean, you’re home during the day, but you’re working. How would you be able to take care of him?”
“I’ve had him here with me a few times already and he makes himself right at home. He’s housebroken and doesn’t demand too much attention. If he starts getting restless, I take him outside and play with him for a while. That works with my schedule because I have to take breaks now and then, when I’ve been staring at the computer screen for too long.”
She blew out a long breath. “What if it turns out to be too big of a commitment? We’ve spent some time together and have done a lot of talking to get to know each other, but we’re still basically strangers.”
“Well actually…” Killian began, then paused for several moments before continuing, “I was hoping to have an opportunity to ask you something today, but the right moment never presented itself.”
Emma’s heart began to beat faster in anticipation of what she suspected he might ask. “What did you want to ask?”
“Would you, um…would you consider going out with me?”
Standing up to pace back and forth between her bed and dresser, she chewed her lip in contemplation. She could literally count how many dates she’d had since Henry’s birth on one hand. She only went on those dates to appease Ruby, who was convinced Emma’s Mr. Right was out there somewhere, but she hadn’t been attracted to any of the men.
She couldn’t say the same about Killian. From the time she laid eyes on him, she felt an attraction that only got stronger the more she got to know him. He seemed to be the total package - kind, intelligent, considerate, and insanely hot.
“What happens if we adopt Norman, then go out with each other and realize we’re not compatible?”
“If you adopt him, I would keep my commitment to help take care of him, even if we decide dating doesn’t work for us. You have my word, Emma.”
She came to a halt at the end of her bed and turned to face the mirror above her dresser. For eight years, Henry had been her number one priority and always would be, but maybe it was time for her to do something for herself. Could that something be going out with Killian Jones?
She was so deep in thought, she didn’t realize how long she had been standing there considering her answer. When Killian finally spoke, his quiet voice startled her. “What do you say, Swan?”
“Yes, Killian. I will go out with you.”
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NEW 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
#pet for rent#chapter update#chapter 2#jrob64#art by jrob64#csff#cs fluff#cs smut#CS modern AU#Captain cobra#ouat Captain Swan fanfic
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She's Perfect But You're Mine (2/3)
She's Perfect But You're Mine | captain swan fic | roommate romance | mature | 2/3 | 3.7k | in progress
Killian has a girlfriend. Emma handles it with the utmost maturity and grace. Or not.
Read on Ao3
@caught-in-the-filter @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @the-darkdaughter-blog @teamhook @justanother-unluckysoul @karlyfr13s @snowbellewells @xarandomdreamx @klynn-stormz @omninerdgirl @facesiousbutton82 @finmnsoh56 @followbatb @killianxswan @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @stahlords @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jonesfandomfanatic @zaharadessert @bluewildcatfanatic @once-upon-a-happy-end @ultraluckycatnd @theriverwild @thrillofhope @myfavouritelunatic @klynnvakarian
#cs ff#captain swan#cs fic#ouat#ouat fic#cs fanfic#cs fanart#cs fic rec#ouat ff#my fics#roommate au#cs modern au
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I’m so sorry for anyone who was looking forward to this event or wanted to try signing up this year. This event takes a lot of work, planning, time and mental energy. All of which this year I find I’m lacking because of my real life. It breaks my heart especially since this is one of the last events for the Captain Swan fandom. There is just no way I can do it.
Would love to hopefully see everyone next year! And again I am so sorry.
#csss#cssecretsanta#csss2023#cssecretsanta2023#captain swan#cs fanfiction#cs ff#cs aesthetic#cs fanfic#cs gif#cs fandom#cs au#emma swan#killian jones#captain hook#ouat#once upon a time
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A/N: In jest, @averbaldumpingground challenged me to write all 20 prompts from this fake dating list. Well, joke’s on my friend, I accepted the challenge. I’m doing 500-word ficlets for each, using different fandoms/ships.
I’m taking a bit more artistic license for this one.
2. “I’m easy. Buy me a nice ring and I’ll lie to your parents.” —OUAT/Captain Swan (ao3)
A FAVOR
Killian sits at the bar, spinning his untouched rum in languid circles. He curses the nervous energy sparking beneath his skin. Emma Swan is hardly more than an acquaintance, his best mate’s adopted sister, in fact. And utterly off-limits, even if he were so inclined. Meeting her boyfriend last year—or is it fiancé now?—cured any such budding notions.
But Emma sounded so earnest on the phone when she asked him to meet her.
The front door creaks open, and his pulse ratchets up at the sight of her long blond locks. She shrugs out of her coat, shakes the late Spring snowfall from it before hanging it on a nearby rack. Her eyes catch his, and he offers her a smile—one that dips a tick when he notices the small but unmistakable bump in her belly.
“Thanks for meeting me,” she says as she takes the stool next to his.
He waits until she orders her drink—a club soda with lime—before replying, “Of course, love.” He holds up his tumbler. “I see that congratulations are in order.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” she mutters with a grimace. Before he can question her lackluster response, she says, “So, I have a really weird favor to ask you, and I don’t want it getting back to David.”
Killian raises a brow as he weighs the consequences of keeping this secret from his mate. Curiosity wins over caution in the end. “I’ll be the very soul of discretion.”
She sags in relief. “There’s a company retreat next weekend,” she explains. “I need you to come and pretend to be my husband.”
Killian stares at her. Out of all the potential favors she might have asked of him, this one didn’t even make the list. “I don’t quite understand. Wouldn’t you want…” he trails off, trying to remember the name of her significant other.
“Neal?” Emma lets out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, no. He’s long gone.”
There’s a story there, but she doesn’t seem keen on expounding. It’s not his business anyway. “Even so, why should you need a fake husband?”
She rolls her eyes. “Because the CEO is a traditionalist, and he made a point to tell me to bring my spouse next weekend. The imaginary spouse I’ve been talking about for the last four months.” She downs the rest of her club soda. “I’m pretty sure my promotion rides on it.”
Well, now. That was a fine spot of trouble she’s landed herself in.
She sucks in a breath. “So, will you do it?”
He’s always had trouble resisting a beautiful, tough lass in distress. Bloody hell. He gives her a devilish grin. “Buy me a nice ring, and I’ll be the most devoted husband your boss has ever laid eyes on.”
“Thank you, Killian.” She leans into him for a quick and enthusiastic embrace.
As he inhales the pleasant scent of lavender in her hair, he’s fairly certain that this has disaster written all over it.
~FIN~
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