#csff
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CS AU: The Tattoo Tryst
A Captain Swan One Shot
Summary: Prompted by the underground meaning behind a keyhole tattoo, which in some circles is an open use symbol for women who want to be sexually used by men. Emma accidentally reveals her tattoo on a crowded train car and… someone takes advantage. Much to her extreme pleasure.
A/N: So… I had this dream… this very naughty dream, so of course… it had to be fic’d. Some might consider this dub con, but both parties are operating with a respect and understanding of certain rules they both share, so… I don’t really see it that way. That said, if the summary above squicks you out, then this might not be the one shot for you. Smut responsibly.
Big shout out to @jrob64 for agreeing to be my last minute beta (ya snooze, you lose @kmomof4!) Okay, okay... much love and thanks to Krystal, too. She hopped on the doc just in time ;o) You're both amazing and the absolute best!
Rated: E / ~3200 words / Also available on ao3 / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!
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The train car was a sea of humanity by the time Emma was able to squeeze in. Normally, when she traveled home after an evening out with friends, this line was quiet with very few passengers. Tonight, however, thanks to some sporting event that annoyingly ended at the same time she and her friends had parted ways, her usually subdued commute was cramped, overheated, rowdy, and rambunctious.
Managing to slip back into an area where she wasn’t surrounded on all sides, Emma heaved a sigh and gathered her hair off her back and up into a high ponytail. The thin, short, halter style dress she’d chosen for late summer celebratory drinks would help keep her cool in the sweltering heat of the train car, but she knew it wouldn’t take long before she broke out in a sweat under her curtain of hair, so best to address that before it became so crowded she’d have trouble lifting her arms.
It was a good thing she did, too. At the next stop more people pushed their way in, jostling her and those around her as the new occupants jockeyed for position before the doors closed. A hand brushed the back of her dress, whispering over the swell of her ass, but Emma chalked it up as an accident. With the way the crush of passengers were all pressed tightly together and the rocking of the train making it hard to keep balance, there were bound to be a few unintentional touches here and there.
Curling her hand around the bar of the divider to her left, she braced herself as the train set off again, rolling her neck to ease some of the tension and causing the tip of her ponytail to brush across her exposed back. The man in front of her readjusted the bag he had slung over his shoulder, and she practically toppled into the person behind her when she tried to avoid getting smacked by the canvas satchel. A hand grabbed her hip, probably a reflex to help steady her, or to keep her from careening into them further. Again, she wasn’t going to fault the person for the touch.
That was until…
His thumb skimmed over the bare skin at her waist and the grip on her hip tightened as another hand began to trail up the side of her thigh towards her hemline. It took her a quick second to get over her shock - this was no accident - before she inhaled an indignant breath, ready to give this perv a piece of her mind and put him on blast in front of the entire train.
However, the scathing admonishment died on her tongue when a sultry voice gruffed low in her ear, “Intriguing tattoo you’ve got there, love.”
She nearly broke out into a cold sweat, even as heat rushed through her body. Her tattoo. The one she only displayed at a certain club; a certain club she only visited when she’d had enough of her high-stress, high-demand job and wanted to relinquish all control to someone else. The keyhole tattoo on her back was only visible in one specific cut of dress, like the one she had on tonight, which was why she’d been wearing her hair down. What were the odds that when she’d pulled it up, the person behind her would recognize it for what it was?
Rough, calloused fingertips traced over the ink as his other hand slipped beneath her skirt and palmed her ass cheek. “I’m not mistaking its meaning, am I?” he asked, though there was no question in his tone.
Clearing her throat in an attempt to return moisture to the dry, arid environment it had become, Emma whispered, “No.”
“No, what?” he murmured, his breath ghosting past the shell of her ear and making her shiver.
“No, sir.”
“Mmmm,” he hummed, rubbing his palm against her cheek. “Good girl.” His fingers moved to the tattoo that sat below the keyhole and he inquired, “And this one? The swan? A symbolic representation of your safe word, I presume?”
“Yes,” she murmured, over her shoulder, getting a glimpse of him for the first time, which did nothing to even out or calm her breathing.
Shit. He was gorgeous.
“Yes… what?” he replied, his voice deep, rich, and a tad dangerous.
“Yes… sir.”
“Eyes front, love.”
She did as she was told and focused on keeping her breath even and her expression neutral. A shiver of wonder ran down her spine at the feel of his lips caressing her shoulder. His other hand slipped beneath her skirt and worked in tandem with the first, fondling her ass, mapping its curves and creases while toying with the edges of her underwear.
She gasped when the back of her dress flipped up, exposing her backside. His hand slid around to the front of her pelvis and wrapped itself around her mound, pulling her backward by her pussy. He fused her ass to his groin and began rutting into her, his firm erection becoming stiffer at the contact, and all she could do was sink her teeth into her bottom lip and try not to grind against him, even though every throbbing, aching, needy nerve ending in her body was screaming at her to.
She did not dare though. Who knew what sort of attention they’d already started to attract. Who could see them? Were people watching, getting turned on by the entertainment and committing it to memory so they could get off on it later? Would they try to take advantage of the situation, thinking they had a right to her body, too? Her handsome stranger was knowledgeable enough that she trusted he would honor and respect her safe word if she chose to apply it, but would he be able to thwart others who wouldn’t give a damn?
“We’re getting off at the next stop,” he rasped in her ear.
Relief flooded her, but it was quickly overrun by confusion when she opened her eyes and glanced up at the map.
“The next stop?” Emma questioned. There was nothing at the next stop. Due to renovations, that station was practically deserted. “Are you su--”
His hand tightened around her inner thigh, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh and making her eyes water. “Are you questioning me, Swan?” he growled.
“No, sir,” she exhaled breathlessly, and a flurry of butterfly wings took off in her stomach at the way he said her safeword.
As they approached the next station, her handsome stranger began to guide her forward, his hand wrapped around the back of her neck as he called out for people to make room. Once they’d exited onto the platform, he walked her past the main exit to a tunnel further down. She noted how he kept a vigilant eye out, making sure they weren’t followed off the train. Perhaps, he too had become concerned with the spectacle they were creating and the unwanted attention and trouble it could have garnered.
Now, completely alone and tucked away in the shadows of an alcove, he pressed her against the wall with her hands braced against the stuccoed surface and molded his body to hers.
“Before we continue,” he murmured between nips and kisses to her ear and neck, “anything you wish to tell me? Any particular words you wish to express?”
She knew he was asking for her consent to carry on, giving her a chance to use her safe word if she wasn’t completely on board with what might come next. The anticipation and excitement igniting her blood and throbbing between her legs made it impossible for her to say anything except a provocative and slightly coquettish, “No. I have nothing I wish to say… sir.”
With a hum of approval he feverishly yanked at the ties on the back of her dress, dropping the fabric of the halter top and exposing her chest. He wasted no time, filling each of his hands with her spilling breasts; groping, kneading, and skimming over them with touches that alternated from painfully rough to lovingly tender.
“Does your lover approve of you going out dressed this way?” he gruffed into her ear, the stubble along his jawline scratching against her cheek. “Like you want to be fucked? Like you want to be used? Would he get off on seeing you this way?”
“I don’t… h-have a lover,” she stuttered, her teeth sinking into her lip and muffling the groan attempting to escape her throat at the feel of him rolling her nipples between his fingers. “Sir.”
He grunted, an almost proprietary and possessive sort of sound that made her skin react in an eruption of raised flesh and forced her breath to catch.
Abandoning one of her breasts, his hand skimmed down her body and lifted her skirt. A series of sharp, forceful tugs caused the band of her underwear to snap and the torn pair of panties fell down one of her legs, resting around her ankle.
“Bloody hell, you’re fucking soaked,” he groaned into her skin, working a brand into the slope of her shoulder as his fingers slipped through her folds and coated themselves in her pooling arousal.
Emma’s nails scratched into the rough texture of the wall in front of her as one, then a second, then a third finger curled into her heat and the base of his hand applied exquisite pressure to the ache throbbing through her sex. His fingers worked quickly over her cunt and clit, bringing her to the brink from the way he pumped and curled within her, then removing them altogether, in order to flick and polish the pulsating, needy bud hooded within her folds. The mastery of his movements, combined with the utterly delightful filth he whispered and grunted into her ear had her on the edge of desperation.
“Please,” she whimpered, arching back into him so she could reach around and card her fingers through his hair.
“Please what, Swan?”
“Please,” she moaned, as his lips and tongue did delicious things to the pulse point on her neck.
“I wanna hear you say it, Swan,” he rasped commandingly into her skin, the rhythm of his fingers against her clit just shy of the tempo she desired. “I wanna hear you beg for it.”
Her knees nearly gave out when he slapped her sex, sending a shock wave of pleasure through her body that culminated with a wanton cry from her lips.
“Shhh, love,” he admonished in her ear. “You wouldn’t want any disembarking passengers from the next train to get curious and find us in such a compromising position, now would you?”
“N-No, sir,” she panted. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“What do you want then, Swan?” he goaded, bringing her back to ecstasy’s edge.
“I-I want…” She fisted a handful of his hair and wet her lips as her hips rocked and swiveled in a vain attempt to gain the friction she needed. “I want to come!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! Yes, please! Please let me come!”
She could feel his wicked grin when the corners of his lips lifted against her skin. “As you wish.”
Clamping a hand over her mouth, he mercilessly fucked her with his fingers until she screamed against the callouses on his palm. Tremors of pleasure coursed through her and colors erupted behind her eyelids.
She was still enjoying the aftershocks when he pulled his fingers from her core, and took his hand away from her mouth. Collapsing forward, she supported herself against the wall as he fumbled with his belt and zipper before shimmying his pants down to his knees
“I’m going to fuck you now, darling.” The low timbre and graveled quality in his voice made her shiver in anticipation. He tapped against the cleft of her ass, then teased the slick folds of her center with his cock as he inquired, “Unless there is a specific word you wish to say to me first, love?”
Pushing her ass back into his groin, she swiveled her hips and stated, “No, sir.”
“Thank fuck,” he growled before guiding his length into her wanton and greedy pussy.
The joint sound they made was utterly obscene, as were the ones that followed; especially when he lifted one of her legs, hooking the bend of her knee into the crook of his elbow so he could drive himself deeper into her depths.
“So. Fucking. Tight,” he chanted in staccatoed breaths. “So. Fucking. Soft… So. Fucking. Perfect.”
Emma lost herself in the slide of his cock and the way it filled her with each thrust. She wasn’t sure how long he fucked into her before the tell-tale tightening of another impending release began to build, but she wasn’t going to be left at his mercy again. With one hand still braced against the wall, she reached down and toyed with her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples between her fingers and sending zips of pleasure down to her clit. Once she’d worked them back into taut peaks, she reached between her legs and began to furiously rub at the throbbing nub.
“That’s it, Swan,” he praised, wrapping her ponytail around his hand and pulling her head backward. “Touch yourself, love. Make yourself come. I want to feel you come around my cock.”
And feel it he must have. No sooner had her second orgasm ripped through her than she felt his rhythm falter as guttural sounds and groanings deeper than words reverberated through the alcove.
They both collapsed into the wall in front of her, though he was careful to make sure he wasn’t crushing her. A long minute passed as they worked to stabilize their breathing, then another grunt fell from her handsome stranger’s lips as he slipped out of her and a wash of warmth began to seep down her thighs.
Lowering her leg back down, he gently placed a reverent kiss to her shoulder and panted, “That was…”
“A one time thing.”
With their tryst at an end, Emma went back to her usual, assertive self, and took back control. Stepping away from the handsome stranger, she proceeded to set herself to rights.
After tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them up, he offered her an endearingly lop-sided smile. “Here, love. Allow me to help you with that.”
She rebuffed his attempt to help her tie her top back into place with a curt, “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
Clearly taken aback by her attitude and tone, he pawed at a patch of skin behind his ear and said, “Apologies, love, but have I… have I done something to vex you?” Something flashed in his eyes and his tone practically dripped with concern and distress as he continued, “I thought… you never used your safe word, so I… bloody hell, please tell me you wanted this, too.”
“Of course I did,” she assured him, not wishing him to panic or berate himself after such an amazing experience. Placing a calming hand on his chest, she smiled up at him. “Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I…” Her mind went blank. This was the first time she was really getting a good look at him and those piercing blue eyes of his were making it difficult for her to concentrate.
One of his brows rose and a smirk played at the corner of his mouth, causing her eyes to drift down and stare at his pinked lips in fascination, wondering what they’d feel like pressed against her own… or other places.
Focus, Emma!
“Look,” she said, clearing her throat and dropping her gaze as she smoothed out her dress. “We both got what we wanted and it’s over now, so let’s not pretend there’s gonna be anything more between us.”
“There could be,” he said, closing the space between them so he could slip a finger beneath her chin and bring her face up towards his. “If you wanted.”
Again, it took her a minute before she remembered. “Well, I don’t.” Sidestepping him, she began searching the ground around them and wondered aloud, “Where did my underwear go?”
The man joined in the search then walked a few steps away, towards a darker part of the tunnel, before reaching down and plucking her panties off the ground.
Swinging them around his finger by the one strap that was not snapped, he smirked and said, “I have half a mind to hold onto these as a memento of our time together.”
When he held them out for her she flicked her gaze up and gave him a smirk of her own. “Keep them.” Trying to shrug off the fresh swell of arousal coursing its way through her bloodstream, she tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and quipped, “They’re of no use to me now, anyway.”
With one last look around to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind, she started to turn for the opening of the alcove when his words stalled her departure.
“So, that’s it then? We’re to be two ships merely passing in the night?”
Heart hammering away in her chest, she took a calming breath before replying, “We’ve passed closely enough, don’t you think?”
This time, before she could make another attempt to leave, the man reached out and gently wrapped his hand around her wrist. “Tell me, please,” he said with an earnestness that almost had her losing her resolve. “Just who are you, Swan?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She meant to apply the same quipping sass she had before, but the words came out more breathless than she had intended.
“Aye. Perhaps I would,” he murmured, stepping further into her personal space. “Won’t you even tell me your name?”
Her gaze flicked down to his hand then back up to his eyes. His too blue eyes beneath pleading brows.
“Swan,” she told him, and his face fell.
Releasing her, he took several steps back, his Adam’s apple bobbing with disappointment. “As you wish, then.”
“No,” she said on an amused breath before clarifying. “That’s my name. Swan. Well… part of it anyway.”
His brows jumped up his forehead, then a delighted smile spread across his face before he schooled his features and brushed his thumb against the corner of his mouth.
“And the rest of it?” he asked, a bit suavely as he loosely wrapped his arms around her waist.
Running her hands up his chest - his firm, hard-planed chest with a dusting of hair, evident by the wisps peeking out from his unbuttoned collar - she alluringly stated, “That’s for me to know… and, if you’re really serious about seeing me again, you to find out.”
His arms tightened, bringing her flush against him. “Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe,” she replied coyly, wrapping her arms around his neck.
She had to crane her neck to look up at him as he towered over her, his lips only a hair’s breadth from hers as he murmured, “Something you’ll come to learn about me, Swan… I do so love a challenge.”
The End.
(For real, K. The. End.)
Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)
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#csff#cs ff#csfic#cs fic#cs au#cs smut#captain swan#naughty captain swan#the tattoo tryst#words by hollye
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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.”
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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.
🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾
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
#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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Event Update::Captain Swan Co-Storytellers Collaboration
Hello, everyone! I'm very excited to announce that although it will be a week event it is still producing fics and a lovely collaboration. We have 5 groups.
I'm going to share a sneak peek into what to expect when we post around Thanksgiving.
Below the cut:
Story 1:
Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm had been the authors of many tales. Jacob wrote the framework and Wilhelm edited the stories making them better. The main goal was to give hope to the human race. As time passed on; the stories became darker and grim which earned them exile to the land of untold stories where they could hurt no one ever more. Time had finally liberated them from their prison and now their arrival to Storybrooke will allow them to fix the Author's lazy writing.
Story 2:
A Study in Scones
Summary: When pastries go missing from Storybrooke’s bakery, Killian and Emma enlist Henry’s help with Operation: Gingerbread. (A Captain Cobra Swan Mystery Fic) Rating: T
Story 3:
Try Something New
Blurb: Before they were True Love, they had to do one thing: learn to trust each other. Follow Emma Swan and Killian Jones across three alternate universes where one small decision would change the course of their lives.
Story 4:
The slam of the Bug’s old rusty door justled Neal awake, he’d just spoken with Emma, giving her the warning he needed. Now all he could hope was that his words had been enough to change her mind. His own words echoed inside his head as he took in the place he woke up in, dark walls, barely illuminated by a reddish light.
“Where the hell am I?” Neal mumbled and tore off his beanie, swirling around himself. “Where’s the exit?”
A wall flickered in a bright light and images of Emma climbing a beanstalk with the fucking pirate flittered before him, “Why am I seeing this, I know this story.”
Story 5:
A Historical AU, set in Revolutionary War times. Killian and Emma are both working as spies (against the British) and there is going to be intrigue, angst, whump, and hurt/comfort.
Who else is excited?
#Captain Swan Co-Storytellers Collaboration#captain swan#csff#Captain Swan Ensemble Cast Fic#CSEC#CSCSC#CSCW23#Captain Swan Collab Words 23
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There's No Harm in Repeating
Killian Jones has lived in apartment 204 for a year and has never exchanged more than ‘hellos’ with Emma Swan in apartment 205. That is until a run-in with her son, Henry, results in the boy doing some unintentional matchmaking. For how else do you find out what a woman thinks of you, if not through her four-year-old son?
A Captain Swan as neighbors au featuring Captain Cobra moments.
Read on A03 and send some fluffy love to @beckettj
#captain swan#cs ff#captain swan fanfic#captain swan fic rec#captain swan fluff#captain swan fluffy february#csff
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The Merman Pirate
Summary: Emma was trying to settle back into normal life after her trip to Neverland so answering calls to the sheriff’s office feels good again. Except the call leads her to the local school and something she never expected.
Rating: T
Notes: For @cssns! I’m so excited to get this story out for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer. I’ve been thinking about Hook as a merman for awhile now and found this to be a fun one-shot to get out of my brain. Post-Neverland but pre-Pan curse. Just a normal night with a princess and a pirate. ;)
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The sky was dark and stormy as Emma drove through the streets of Storybrooke with her windshield wipers on high to clear the water away.
She had been back for a whole day from Neverland and was already fielding calls to handle another issue as a sheriff of this town. She didn’t really mind though. After being stuck on that stupid island for however long they were there, it was nice to be back and handling the normal calls that came into the office.
It also helped to distract her from what was going on with her son. Henry didn’t seem himself after the Jolly Roger returned to town, but she was still trying to figure out exactly what was going on there.
So a report to the sheriff’s office that someone broke into the town’s school? Totally normal and a good distraction.
Emma pulled up to the front of the school and ran through the pouring rain to the front door. Another benefit of working for the sheriff’s office is Emma had plenty of keys to buildings in the town, but it took her a few tries to find the one for the school.
She finally found the one she needed and slipped it quietly into the lock. The school itself was empty as she went through the halls checking classrooms and finding no one. Henry’s classroom included some artwork on the wall that he had done before they left for Neverland. It was just another reminder that despite their adventures, her son was still a kid going to school. Well, some days.
Emma made her way to the cafeteria and then the gym, finding no one. Perhaps the call was a dud or whoever was here had already left even though nothing seemed out of place.
There was a flash of lightning outside illuminating an open door on the far end of the gym and she started to make her way over as the thunder boomed overhead. Emma hoped it would hide the sound of her squeaky shoes on the floor.
She gently pushed the door open into the school’s pool, realizing she had never been in this part of the building before.
Emma didn’t always like Regina and it made her skin crawl at times thinking of the curse that Regina cast to create this town. But there were other times like now when she couldn’t help but admire Regina’s work. The pool’s walls were covered with tiles depicting colorful fish, sea serpents, and jellyfish. She wondered what Hook would think of this. He would probably ask to have someone add his Jolly Roger to the wall.
There was a splash from the pool and Emma’s attention was pulled in the direction of the water. It wasn’t still. There was someone in there.
She pushed herself into a shadow, realizing she had exposed her presence while staring at the walls. Her hand was on the holster of her gun as she peered back out into the water to see what was there.
And then she saw the mermaid.
Emma thought nothing could shock her when it came to magical creatures and fairy tale stories, but she couldn’t help but stare at the water glimmered on the scales of a gorgeous dark blue tail. It was darker than she expected and not like the tail that she had seen Ariel unfurl a few times in the open bay in Storybrooke.
And then the rest of the mermaid crested above the water, and Emma realized it wasn’t a mermaid.
He was a merman.
Hook.
His eyes were just above the waterline and she could tell it was him by his wet hair and that little peak on the top of his ears. But that was the only part of him above the water while his tail seemed to shimmer below the surface.
Emma took a breath and finally stepped out from her hiding spot. “Hook.”
He turned dramatically, his tail splashing through the surface as he pushed himself higher and his piercing blue eyes landed on her. A sexy sneer teased at the corner of his lips when he realized it was her and the tension in his shoulder seemed to slip away.
“Good evening, Swan. Fancy seeing you here this late.”
She walked over to the edge of the pool and looked down at him as he swam to the edge near her feet.
“I got a call about someone breaking and entering.”
“Well, I am a pirate.”
She crouched down to give him a closer look as his arms reached up to give him some extra leverage on the edge of the pool.
“You also seem to be a merman?”
“I do like the water.”
Emma shouldn’t be staring. She didn’t mean to stare. But Hook was right in front of her and he was a merman. His tail was dark against the light background of the pool and he was lazily flipping it around under the water. She wasn’t sure if this was the normal movement for his fin or if Hook was trying to put on a show because he could tell she was watching him.
And he was wearing clothes?
“What’s with the shirt?” she asked.
“The chlorine is harsh on my skin.”
“And why are you even here?”
There was another flash of light outside the pool’s window and thunder rolled overhead. Hook just looked up as a way to wordlessly answer the question.
“So you’re a mermaid who doesn’t swim when there’s water coming down from the sky?” she asked sarcastically.
“I’m a merman, Swan.” Hook’s tail flipped gently out of the water and back in as if to emphasize the difference. “And storms churn up all the dirt in the bay so I came here instead.”
“Sure,” she replied. “Yep, all logical.”
He shrugged and pushed off the wall, his tail swinging around underwater and then surfacing right where she was crouching, splashing her boots with a little water.
“Perhaps it’s not logical in your human realm, but you are the sheriff of a town full of people from the Enchanted Forest.”
“Don’t remind me.”
He gave her one of his wicked smiles and ducked down into the water, covering the length of the pool without coming up. He dove lower in the deep end and then quickly surfaced, the wet tail below his waist shimmering as he emerged high above the surface.
Then Hook was swimming back to her with the seductive look that reminded her of their kiss in Neverland. The way he stared at her, daring her to reward him for saving her father.
“Would you like to join me, Swan?”
They were back in Storybrooke now. She had to remember that. She was the sheriff who simply came across a merman because she was doing her job.
“Not tonight.”
Hook swam a little closer to her again and used his tail to hoist himself out of the water so he was eye level with her now. It was unnerving and delicious, and he was turning her on again just as he had when they were in Neverland.
“Perhaps another night then,” he said seductively.
Then he slipped back under the water and began his swim again.
Emma needed to remind herself that she was the sheriff and she was her on official sheriff business. Flirting with a merman was not part of her job description and she needed to get back to work.
She stood up and looked down at Hook in the pool again. He seemed content as if this was his way of releasing the frustration and stress from their time in Neverland. She wondered if she would ever have some kind of magic that could help her channel away those same feelings.
But that would have to be for another night.
“Make sure you lock up when you leave,” she yelled down into the water.
Hook surfaced again, his tail dragging behind him out of the water. “As you wish, Swan.”
As you wish. Unlike their moment in Neverland, this time his “As you wish” was teasing and flippant.
She liked the other way better.
The way he said it to her after she kissed him.
Emma knew that could never happen again.
“Good night, Hook,” she said before turning and heading back toward the gym and her job.
She heard a splash as his merman tail hit the water as she walked away.
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Captain Swan Christmas Reruns presents: Ghost of Christmases Past
Written by: @snowbellewells
Recommended by: @kmomof4
Summary: {mid-season three divergent holiday angst and fluff}
Emma visited by one very special ghost while she and Henry are in New York; you guides her through the Christmases of her past to see what could be waiting in her future... if she will only let herself have it.
What we love: Just a WONDERFUL canon divergence!!!
read it here!
#captain swan#christmas#killian jones#emma swan#ouat#once upon a time#fic rec#cs fic rec#fanfic#csff#snowbellewells#ghost of christmases past
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Captain Swan Christmas Reruns presents: The Christmas Wish
Written by: @searchingwardrobes
Recommended by: @snowbellewells
Summary: Emma leaned forward, closed her eyes, and a wish bubbled up unbidden from the depths of her heart. "I wish I could just have a simple, domestic life. Is that even in the cards for me?" Breath left her on an exhale just as the wish floated through her mind, and the candle blew out. The "answer" to her wish had to be some kind of trick, however. After all, it wasn’t as if anything in the vision she received could ever in a million years be real. It was ridiculous. Captain Hook, the father of three driving a minivan? Impossible.
Rated G for Hallmark movie levels of fluff and Christmas feels
What we love: It’s like a Hallmark Christmas movie you can reread and enjoy whenever you want. I love how Melanie plays with the idea of a wish coming true - if Emma is willing to believe in it - and the various fairy tale characters playing their parts for the story to unfold. I like how it goes back to around the 3b time frame of the show, but then diverges and takes its own path from there. Plus, there are all the fun clever nods that readers will recognize, and a wonderfully cheery happy ending.
READ IT HERE!
#captain swan#christmas#killian jones#emma swan#ouat#once upon a time#wow#fic rec#cs fic rec#fanfic#csff#@searchingwardrobes#the christmas wish
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"Working Hands" by kazoosandfannypacks
Pairing: CaptainSwan
Rating: G
Tags: 2K words, Pining (Mutual?,) Season 3B, i swear each and every one of those run on sentences is necessary
Summary: Killian broods at Granny's after hours, pining for Emma and wishing the colder Storybrooke climate didn't make his hands so dry.
Author's notes: @silver-the-phoenix and I have had this headcanon about Killian having dry hands for quite a while, but when @cosette141 and I figured out we live near each other and are both experiencing similar cold weather problems, I decided it was high time to sit down and project them onto Killian Jones
Also on Ao3!
Neverland had been a much more tropical climate. It was warm, and humid, and Killian was used to it. Something about it just felt right to him- he could wear multiple layers in the heat of the jungle and scarcely break a sweat.
Killian managed to get by with the weather in the Enchanted Forest too, even and especially during this last year- though admittedly, he'd had other things to think about during that time than the weather- atmospheric conditions mean nothing to you when you're separated from the one you love, when you know that you can never see her again, and she doesn't even remember you- when you have to bear all the work of remembering and grieving for the both of you all by yourself.
But now he was with her- not with her with her, but both in the same realm, in the same town, Emma renting out a room at Granny's just down the hall from him.
"But what does it all matter?" Killian thought. "All I did was bring her back to Storybrooke, back to her family, back to a life that still doesn't need me."
Of all the memories they'd shared, the ones where he felt a connection with her the most- the beanstalk, their kiss on Neverland, sharing drinks in New York- in all of them, in all those moments where she almost made him feel special in her eyes- in all of them they were alone. She'd never treated him so fondly when her family was around- she scarcely acknowledged his presence then- and Storybrooke was a land filled with her family.
But what he wouldn't give to have just a moment alone with her!
He tried to turn his mind from that and found himself remembering how cold he was here in Storybrooke, and how sharp and brisk the air, and the havoc it was wreaking on his hand.
He could handle the cold without a need for change of clothes- if losing a hand didn't make him stop wearing twenty nine buttons in every outfit, surely something as impersonal as the weather wouldn't convince him to change his aesthetic. He didn't mind the harsh winds, as it reminded him of his days on The Jolly Roger- and how he hoped she was being treated well now.
But what really bothered him was what the cold did to his hand-how it roughened it like sandpaper, crackled it like sands under the sun- how, much like the crocodile's cold heart had made his skin rough and scaly, so the cold weather made Killian's hand.
Today though, all the cold was really getting to him- he almost considered making himself a cup of coffee, or some of that cinnamon hot cocoa Henry loved so much, just to warm up- but at the same time he knew if he used Granny's ingredients without her permission, he might lose his roaming privileges around the diner after hours.
But he quickly forgot all about the quest to keep warm-he looked up and was warmed through the core when he saw Emma Swan enter.
He noticed her before she noticed him, but when she did she seemed a bit startled.
"Hook!" she asked, clearly searching for an escape route. "I didn't know you were here, I…"
He didn't want to watch her walk away- her presence was a soothing one.
"That's alright, Swan." He said. "I wouldn't've brought you back to Storybrooke if I didn't want to run into you every now and then."
Emma rolled her eyes, but she also didn't leave, instead taking a seat at one of the bar stools across the room, staring intently at a paper napkin that had been left on the counter.
Killian watched as she stared at it for a few minutes, seeming more than a tad frustrated with every passing second. He tried to continue his solitary brooding, but after a few minutes he realized the futility- it was ridiculous to mourn his affections for Emma when she sat thirty feet away from him.
So he got up, quietly, so as not to startle her, and walked over.
"What are you doing?" He asked. She started, and out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the napkin move.
She let out heavy breaths, trying to regain her composure. "Just testing out my magic a little." Emma said. "Granny said I can work on it in here at night, while Henry's not around."
"How's that going?" Killian asked.
"So far?" Emma asked. "Not well. wasn't exactly a master magician when we left, and I haven't been practicing this past year."
"That's alright, Swan." He tried to reassure her. "I'm sure you'll regain the hang of it in due time."
"I appreciate your vote of confidence," she said, then turned back to the napkin.
"What are you trying to do?" Killian asked.
"I'm trying to move it." She snapped.
"Well that's not so hard." He joked, trying to ease her tension. He then picked up the napkin and placed it a few inches away from where it was.
"Without touching it." She glared at him.
He blew on the napkin and it slid across the table a little.
"That's not so hard, is it, love?"
"Oh wow" she rolled her eyes, "master Yoda couldn't've taught me better himself."
"Master who?"
"From Star Wars." Emma said.
"Star Wars?"
She rolled her eyes again and turned back to the napkin.
He felt sure he was distracting her, that his presence was a hinderance, but after she haunted his every moment the last three years, he felt it only fair to haunt even one of hers.
"Is there anything can do to help you?" He asked, pulling out his flask.
"Leave me alone?"
"Alright." He wasn't about to infringe on her boundaries, but he hesitated only a moment before he left, just long enough to take a sip of rum.
Perhaps it was fate that she looked up at that moment as he brought the flask to his face with his chapped, red hand.
"Woah." She said, and he turned back a moment.
"What?" He asked, corking the bottle and stashing it.
"Your hand." She said. "It's so dry."
It was his turn to roll his eyes as she dug through the small backpack she'd brought in with her. "Thanks for noticing for me, Swan."
"Here," she handed him a small canister, "this lotion works wonders."
"Thanks." He said, holding the circular green container, and looking down at his hook, wondering how well he could apply the lotion with it.
"Oh." His hook had caught her glance, and she looked up at his face, "I'm sorry, uh, do you want help?"
"What?" He asked, unsure how to respond. His pride said it was an insult for her to even ask that, his humility said there was no way Swan cared enough about him to even offer that- but his heart said "please."
"Sorry, just- do you want me to help you?"
"Yeah." He blinked a few times as she twisted off the lid and scraped a dab of the lotion onto her finger. It was very rare for Emma to initiate any contact with him, especially physical, so he was a little surprised at her stepping down from her high walls to touch him.
"Stop making this romantic, Killian!" He thought. "This is purely platonic, she's the Savior, she probably feels obligated to help."
Despite his best thoughts, it was hard to push back his feelings as she took his hand and caressed it- no, not caressing, just applying the lotion, just trying to fix his crackled skin- there wasn't anything romantic about the magic of her touch, the sparks he was sure he felt, how every swirl of her thumb was like writing love letters in a language only they knew- but surely it meant nothing, just like their kiss on Neverland.
She hadn't looked up at him the whole time- and he knew, because he hadn't taken his eyes off her for a second- but instead had focused on smoothing his rough skin as best as she could.
"I think that'll have to do it." She said. Did she feel the same tension he did? Surely she didn't. Did his hand feel the same in hers as hers felt around his? Surely it didn't. Did their touch rouse passions any further awake in her, like it had in him?
Surely, it couldn't've.
She'd made the mistake of letting her hand linger half a second- a half second which Killian read into, which Killian almost felt meant hope, in which Killian didn't think he'd be out of line if he took the opportunity to twist his hand so he could hold hers- so he did, holding her fingers between his fingers and thumb.
He didn't look her in the eyes- the scared expression he knew they'd hold would break his heart- but looked down at her beautiful little hand, and how well it fit in his.
"Thank you." He said, and dared to play on his old-fashioned reputation in her mind, dared bring her hand to his face, dared to bring her knuckles to his lips, dared to kiss her hand.
Had she grown up a princess in the Enchanted Forest, she would've been accustomed to this, probably receiving this gesture from every man who crossed her paths- and he never would've done it if that were the case.
But nature having presented an opportunity to thank her as none ever had- but all ought to have- he took it.
It felt so right, so right to hold her fingers to his lips, so right to show her the love and honor she was due- so right that it felt a great sorrow to let go.
He risked looking in her eyes afterward, afraid of her confusion and anger, but instead seeing confusion and awe.
"You're welcome." She said.
She didn't turn away from his gaze, and he wanted to savor the moment as long as he could- for in that moment, he almost felt like maybe, like maybe he was something in her eyes.
But as he remembered who she was- the beautiful princess, the Savior, a hero in every realm she graced with her presence- he remembered himself- the filthy pirate, the vengeful captain, the villain of every story he forced his way into- and he realized how ridiculous it was for him to think he'd ever be good enough for her.
And to share this moment with her, but to know she'd never care for him, not like he cared for her, that he was trying to wedge himself into another life he didn’t belong in, it tore him apart.
"I should go." He looked away from her, unsure what he was even staring at, or where, just not at her, "I'm distracting you from your magic practice."
"Right." Emma turned back to the napkin on the counter as he walked away.
He scolded himself for that hopeful little part of him that told him to look back, told him to see if she was watching him leave- but he listened to it anyways, and saw her not looking at him at all, instead intently focused on the napkin.
So he intently focused on whatever was ahead of him, on the hallway, on his door, on his room, on the door he could slam, then that he could lean back against, and heave a heavy breath, looking down at the hand that moments ago had held Emma's- and that probably never should again.
But had he watched Emma a moment longer, he would've seen her magic in action, seen the napkin move across the table at her will, in response to her feelings.
And he would've seen how the napkin snuck across the table and landed a moment on her knuckles, just as his lips had moments ago. He would've seen how, in response to her feelings, her magic had tried to mimic him, to recreate and replicate his affection for her. He would've seen her excitement at making her magic work shift into panic as she realized too what that meant- that perhaps his feelings were more mutual than she'd been letting on, that perhaps she enjoyed their moments alone almost as much as he did, that perhaps she cared for him in return- and he would've seen her smile as she looked back at the hallway he'd just about disappeared down.
If only he'd been able to bear watching her just a moment longer!
Then perhaps, he wouldn't find himself where he did now, staring up at the ceiling on a lumpy old mattress, staring at the hand that had just touched hers, placing a finger to the chapped lips that had just kissed her hand, clenching the fingers he’d just let her slip through, lost in his pained, impassioned wondering, trying to shake himself, but knowing after a year’s struggle that it was a losing battle.
#captain swan#killian jones#emma swan#once upon a time season 3#fanfic#csff#kazzy writes#fic rec#once upon a time#ouat#once upon a time fanfic#once upon a time fanfiction#captain swan fanfic#captain swan fanfiction#otp: try something new darling
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Swan of the Lake Ch.7 - Serendipity
Summary:
While searching for her past filled with mysteries and legends, Emma Nolan loses her present in an unfortunate accident. The man rushing to save her is no prince charming, and he must realize soon enough that the girl, who has no idea who she is, awakens instincts and desires in him that he had long since buried deep within his soul. But who exactly is she? What if her memories come back? Will she remember anything at all?
Words: 3.6k
Read on: AO3 or FF.net
Buy me a coffee if you like :)
prologue II ch. 1 II ch. 2 II ch. 3 II ch. 4 II ch. 5 II ch.6
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Chapter 7: Serendipity
"Who knew it would be so exhausting?" laments Swan as she collapses on the couch. Her lips curl down in annoyance, and gentle frown lines run over her brow.
Killian was certain it would be laborious, and he is astonished she isn't fully knocked out. He, for one, feels worn out despite having done nothing but sit in the waiting room and accompany her from one appointment to the next. He doesn't dare to imagine what would have happened if his brother hadn't called in a few favors. Liam is not a fan of wire-pulling; he believes that everyone has an equal right to healthcare, and he always adheres to this, with a few exceptions, Swan being one of them. His brother had to rush his coworkers because he had patients arriving at one o'clock and needed to be there for the exams. Swan’s exceptional situation was a priority, and he feared that the waiting, the many strangers, and too many new impressions might eventually cause her to break down.
But Swan held her own admirably as if each new examination was another exciting adventure for her. Whether she’s really so strong or merely hiding her fears well, Killian could not say.
"Are you sure you're all right, Swan?" he softly asks as he settles into one of the armchairs.
She smiles softly as she lifts her emerald eyes to his. "Don't worry, I'm not going to suddenly freak out."
"So you might, just not right now?"
Swan laughs in a lovely tinkling voice but then looks seriously at him. "I like your sense of humor."
"I think you're alone in that," he purses his lips, prompting another bright smile. "Alright, so what would you like to do now?"
"I enjoyed our movie night. Would you like to watch something during lunch?" she asks.
Killian nods, indicating that he enjoyed it as well. He ultimately chose the movie because Swan had no idea what she liked. She was interested in everything and couldn't make up her mind. They watched two movies in a row, though he undoubtedly watched her more than the telly. When Swan fell asleep on the sofa, Killian took the duvet from Wendy's room, wrapped it around her, and sat back in the armchair, pensively staring at her. He had no idea when he fell asleep, and he didn't expect to, but he awoke to find his brother standing over him, coffee in hand, gently calling his name.
Since Swan still couldn't remember anything, Liam decided to have her examined. Not all tests came back promptly, but doctors believed that the amnesia was most certainly caused by trauma. They recommended plenty of rest and familiar environments that could trigger recollections. Unfortunately, given that they have no idea where she has been residing, the latter is out of the question.
The doctors suggested that Swan be kept in until she could remember for her own safety, but to Killian's great relief, his brother refused to hear of it. He stated firmly that she would remain with them. No one objected since Swan took it gratefully and happily. It was the only time she showed any signs of dread or fright, which she sought to hide. Killian doesn't want to think about what it would have been like for her to be left alone, how strongly she would have felt the prospect of it in those minutes, but he believes it was enough because tears welled up in her eyes as she thanked them. Killian had never felt such a strong need to hold her and whisper in her ear that everything was going to be fine.
"If you don't mind, we could watch a theatre movie," Swan notes shyly, and Killian is pulled from the haunting memories and thoughts.
Last night he chose a light adventure film that was exciting, humorous, and interesting, but with a touch of romance - he was actually playing it safe, he wanted her to have fun.
"Why?" he raises an eyebrow. There are good theatrical films, that's not it, but he thought she was looking for something fun, and he hadn't run out of ideas, in fact, he was all set for Indiana Jones - he thought she'd have a good time with that one as well, and what's more, he wanted to hear her laugh or see her smile. He thinks Swan could do with something exciting right now, something completely different from reality, something that would distract her from her current situation.
"I'd like to get to know the world you worked in," she replies, looking at him a little nervously, as if worried about what he might say.
"Why?" he asks again.
"Because I want to get to know you better."
The words just slowly settle between them. Killian is tempted to repeat his previous question but doesn't. He's tempted to warn her that getting to know him better will get her nowhere, but he doesn't. On the one hand, it would be unfair, since he himself would like to know Swan better, and on the other hand, he thinks she is looking for a handhold, and by trying to know him she might get to know herself better - he feels he cannot take that away from her.
"Fine, you bring whatever you want to eat, and I'll pick the movie."
Swan's face lights up with joy, and she bounces vigorously before coming to a halt. "Do you think we could have cake for lunch?"
Killian laughs softly. "As you wish."
She goes out into the kitchen with spring in her step. As he looks at the gently swaying hips and buttocks, Killian feels the kind of satisfaction he experiences when he knows he's got the perfect notes down on paper. Strange that it should be triggered by the mere fact that he has made Swan happy.
He sits down with the remote control, but he doesn't have to scroll for long, the first thing he sees on the list is Being Juliet, and he thinks she'll like it - it has a particularly pleasant soundtrack, so he doesn't mind if they watch it.
"Would your niece mind if I borrowed some more of her clothes? These smell funny, it would be nice to change," Swan glances at him as she brings in some of the cookies from the pantry. She ate them all yesterday with apparent relish, almost sensually - though at least she didn't moan, which Killian was grateful for. The darkness, the soft lights from the television that shaded her face into a pale shadow, the bright gleam in her eyes, and her smile were enough of a temptation, it wasn't easy to keep his sanity - if she had even moaned while eating, Killian feared, all his hard-won discretion and sense of responsibility would have gone up in smoke.
"No, she won't mind, help yourself out."
"Thank you."
Killian figures it wouldn't hurt for him either to change into something that doesn't smell like hospital disinfectant or sickness, so while Swan disappears into Wendy's room, he changes too. (And while he's doing so, he tries hard not to imagine her peeling herself out of her clothes.)
He finishes quickly, so when Swan emerges, he's already sitting in the armchair. As she walks, she puts on a sweatshirt, and as she raises her arms, the shirt slides up off her stomach. There's only a glimpse of smooth, milky white skin and the tempting dip of her navel, but for Kilian, that's enough.
Would she giggle if he kissed her navel? Would it tickle her? What would it feel like to run his tongue over her skin? What would she taste like?
"I'm ready to start," she says.
Killian finds it immensely frustrating that she has no idea what she is doing to him, that her simplest gesture or even a slightly cheeky smile can muddle his thoughts and project pictures of passion.
He swallows hard and starts the film. He doesn't watch as she eats, requiring no extra stimuli to keep him from thinking of anything but what it would be like to strip her of her clothes, what it would feel like to touch her, how she would gasp and moan as he brings her closer and closer to bliss. Yes, he would like to watch her face when she comes.
Killian knows it's perilous to even think about such a thing, if only because she's as attracted to him as he is to her. His lips pull into a smile - maybe that's why he wanted to sneak into her room at night. He doesn't exactly want to crawl into bed with her, but something compels him to want to watch her in her slumber. In fact, he regrets that he wasn't in his room at the time and that he didn't wake up to her standing over him watching. Knowing himself, he would have been unable to stop himself at such a moment, with his thoughts muddled by sleep and scarcely real. He would have captured Swan's hand and dragged her into bed beside him and kissed her so thoroughly that she would remember him forever.
The pictures, intermingled with passion, are leaving him no rest. Although he keeps his eyes locked on the TV, he fails to comprehend anything of the film, and strangely, he can barely recognize any of the soundtracks, even though anything with music always makes him feel alive. Now, though, Swan serves that function.
He suppresses a furious grunt and blames fate for the hundredth time since yesterday for having so carelessly put this girl in his path. How much simpler and easier it would all be if they had met under completely different circumstances - in truth, he probably wouldn't be nervous about touching or kissing her any longer, because he would know exactly what it would be like.
Then he wouldn't want her to stay, he wouldn't fear that she would remember and ultimately walk away from his life without a trace. Because yes, as poignant as it is to himself, he is terrified.
Something changed between them last night, Killian can't place his finger on it, but something did. By being honest with her, he had let her get closer to him than he had let anybody else in months - in fact, closer than probably anybody else ever had. Even today, he still doesn't understand why he did it, how the words fell out of his mouth. But they did, and since then Swan appears less uptight, and he himself feels less tense - even though he has to keep his desires under control.
His eyes flick to Swan. She is leaning forward, watching the film, her face fixed in stone, not blinking. The film is just approaching its phenomenal end, the whole plot is built up at this moment, and the way the actress puts it through is brilliant.
Killian turns his head, watching the film himself until a soft, silken whisper meets his ears.
"Your only reality is the theater. Anything else, what civilians call the real world, is nothing but fantasy and I bloody well won't let you forget it," Swan mutters to herself at exactly the same time as the film's protagonist. And then she grins, and that tiny smile is just like the actress on the TV screen, and she says with her, "Rubbish."
And Swan smiles in a manner she has never before, or if she has, Killian has missed it. Her expression gets to his heart and awakens extremely strange emotions in him. Tenderness, anxiety, and an unexplainable longing to wake up one day, just once, to that smile and that it would be for only him.
"You've seen this film before," he says softly.
"How do you know that?" she asks, surprised.
"You said the last couple of lines."
"What?" she asks, stunned.
"You said the lines with the character."
"Really?"
Killian gives a nod. Is it possible that she was unaware of what she was doing? And how many times did she have to watch this movie before her lips moved unconsciously when she couldn't remember anything? What does this movie mean to her? It has to be significant to her, but why?
"You don't remember seeing it, do you?"
"No," she says, shaking her head. "It's quite bizarre. I have images in my head, but they're all hazy."
"Like what?"
"Well, I'm standing on a balcony, wearing a nightgown, it must be morning because the light is so bright, and... that's it. Just a flicker of a picture, but it looks so... false as if it isn't me. It's obviously because I can't connect it to anything right now, but it just doesn't feel right. Then I'm singing in front of a large crowd, but it's also as if it's not real. And suddenly I'm hugging a man and wearing a nice dress for no apparent reason; perhaps we're going to a party or something. There are a few more flashes, but nothing cohesive, just... moments," she purses her lips in a girlish manner.
Killian preferred the memory with the nightgown, but the last one makes his heart clench.
"You okay?" Swan's quietly whispered question makes him grimace.
"Why?"
"You look so grumpy."
"I don't like picturing you with a man unless that man is me," Killian admits, though he's already cursing himself as the words pass his lips. What in the world is he doing?
Swan's face flushes a shade of crimson, and her eyes fill with a gentle, enticing glow, and Killian doesn't regret his tendency to be unquestionably honest, especially as her mouth curls upwards in a loving fashion. It makes him pleased to know that he made her happy.
"What it's like to dance?" Swan's question comes out of nowhere, which Killian finds weird, but it's not the first time he's struggled to follow her rambling stream of thought. Swan had noticed things that would have passed him by in the hospital many times. For instance, how the light fell on the fractured tiles and the forms the shadows took. Swan, in reality, enlivened every gloomy or difficult moment with a light laughter that kept his smile intact.
"I don't dance."
"But you can?"
Killian gives a nod. Yes, he has danced in the past, notably when he was younger, though not frequently.
"Can you show me?"
His initial reaction is no way, but then he has a better idea.
"If you sing something for me in return."
"But I'm not even sure I can sing," Swan complains. A terrified expression crosses her face, perhaps because she is afraid of singing in front of someone - or possibly because she is afraid of doing it in front of him.
"You just said you remembered singing," Killian tries to persuade her. "Maybe you're a singer."
"Yeah, or I'm just crazy about karaoke and I have a terrible voice, but no one wants to hurt me so they don't tell me," she chuckles.
"You have a vivid imagination, you know that?"
"You have no idea," Swan sighs, and no, Killian doesn't want to know what she's thinking right now.
Okay, let's be honest, at least with himself: he shouldn't want to know, but he does. Is she feeling even a smidgeon of the need that is threatening to consume him?
"Sing for me, and I'll dance with you in return."
Killian lifts his eyebrow and gives her a stubborn stare - it worked before, Swan might not back down now. Because, yes, he wants to hear her sing.
"I know exactly what you're up to," she growls. "But you're wasting your time. I can't recall any songs, and I have no intention of serenading you."
"I'm sure I can show you a song you'll remember. If you do, you'll sing for me; if you don't, you won't," Killian announces on the spur of the moment, though he's not entirely certain of his declaration, but at least he'll get a chance.
Swan scowls at him for a few seconds before nodding.
"But first, we dance," she says.
Killian is unconcerned. He pauses the movie and searches for music on YouTube, fearful that she would change her mind about their deal. He's not sure why he thinks of Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell; perhaps it was in a movie he was watching with his brother the other day, and the music has crept insidiously into his thoughts since then.
He begins the video clip by standing in front of Swan, bowing playfully, and extending his hand to her with a goofy smile on his lips.
"My lady, would you do me the honor of a dance?"
Swan stares up at him, then instead of taking his hand, she cocks her head slightly to one side. "What's that music?"
"Are you scared?"
"A little."
"Ain't No Mountain High Enough, and no more delaying, come on. Don't be shy, even if you're clumsy, only I'll see it."
Swan's tiny and slender hands tremble as she places them in Killian's, but he doesn't hesitate, he grabs her and pulls her up, just quickly and firmly enough to make her lose her balance and press against his chest. She pulls away and gives him a reproving look, to which Killian merely responds with a sardonic half-smile.
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
"Would you blame me?"
Swan flushes and remains silent. To make more room, Killian moves her away from the couch and coffee table. He massages Swan's sweater-clad arm reassuringly with his free hand (and feels regret that he isn't touching her skin in the process), then lifts his hand to her shoulder, then wraps his own around her waist, and softly draws her closer to him. Swan's hand is slightly damp in his, indicating that she is still nervous so he leans in close, just barely avoiding brushing her skin with his mouth.
"Just follow me," he says quietly. He enjoys feeling her shiver in his arms.
Killian isn't much of a dancer, but he can get a beat going, so he starts here. He loses himself in her movements, and it's great to hold her, to feel her slenderness, her fragility.
Swan then exhales deeply and finally relaxes in his arms. Her hips glide lightly, and she no longer follows Killian, instead letting the music lead her. She pulls away from him, taking his prosthetic in hers and moving with grace. Killian can't resist the temptation, turning her around with ease, her eyes closed, mouth parted.
Swan laughs loudly and allows her body to move more freely. The way she seems to become one with the music while her body sways is incredibly alluring. Killian has never seen anyone dance so sensuously. He no longer moves and instead just observes her. A few strands of her hair untangle from her knotted hairstyle and fall in front of her face, but she doesn't notice and continues to dance. She dances as if it were the only thing keeping the world from ending as if it were the only thing keeping her from falling.
Swan steps out a little but doesn't let go of his hand, instead laughing and spinning until their bodies are squeezed tightly together as the song fades. Swan gasps for oxygen as Killian wraps his arm around her waist.
"To dance... it's uplifting, freeing, and... heaven... wonderful!" Her eyes sparkle with delight as if she was born to dance, as if it's all she's ever done as if it's her life. Killian doesn't think it's impossible based on how she moves.
He tucks her loose hair behind her ears and smiles. As his fingertips brush over the flushed skin, a yearning tingling sensation spreads across his entire body. He knows he shouldn't, but he presses his thumb against her warm, enticing lips nevertheless.
"I want to know what it's like," Swan says quietly.
"What?" Killian asks softly.
"If you kiss me."
He inhales deeply and swallows. He, too, is curious. Yes, absolutely.
"Perhaps there is someone you love, someone who loves you, Swan. It would be inappropriate, and you would regret it later. I don't want to hurt you in any way."
"Come on, Killian, I've been missing for at least two days and no one is looking for me. Do you think I'd still be here if anyone cared about me?" There's no animosity or fear in her voice, merely acceptance and perhaps a hint of lecturing.
Killian hadn't given it much thought; he was just glad she was here, that she brought color and brightness to his life. He has no idea what it feels like to be entirely alone in the world. His life had fallen apart, but he had somewhere to return to; there were people waiting for him, people who didn't question him about why he came back because they knew he would just become more withdrawn if they did. He is loved, and he should be thankful.
"How much more are you going to teach me, lass?" he muses as he strokes her soft lips once again.
"What do you mean?"
Killian shakes his head as if it didn't matter, then smiles softly.
"I care about you, Swan."
Her eyes widen and her eyes hold the same sparkle they did while she was dancing as if he is everything at this moment, and Killian already knows he's going to kiss her. Because he can't stop himself from kissing her.
"Why do I feel like I've walked right into the middle of something?" The words emerge playfully from the front door.
Killian has never been more angry at his niece than he is right now.
#cs#csff#captain swan#killian jones#emma swan#ouat#once upon a time#cs fic#captain swan ff#cs fanfic#captain hook#emma x killian#SOTL#my fic
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Canticum Sanguinis Lux - Cinis (7/8)
Summary: Once, all Emma Nolan wanted was a normal life, but when she had a run in with a vampire as a teenager she realised that she couldn’t escape the life of a hunter. Now all she wants to do is prove herself, and she’s going to end up going above and beyond to be the hunter the world needs her to be.
Rating: Explicit. Mostly for graphic descriptions of violence, and some smut, but not until later chapters.
Warnings: There are now more than just hints at the non con nature of the control vampires can have over humans. And the fact that they’re strong af
Notes: Okay! The penultimate chapter! I promise I'll try not to take too long to post the epilogue, and thank you so much for sticking with me through this frankly diabolical (basically non-existent) posting schedule.
Thanks to the @cssns mods for running this event, thank you to @clockadile for the gorgeous banner. Lastly, thank you to @kmomof4, who not only is an amazing beta, but volunteered to deal with my panics and the amount of hitting my head against a wall that this has made me do. Thank you so much, I could not have done this without you.
Tagging: @kmomof4 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @jonesfandonfanatic @undercaffinatednightmare @anmylica @elfiola @booksteaandtoomuchtv @tiganasummertree @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @myfearless-love @xhookswenchx @wefoundloveunderthelight @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @onceratheart18 @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @itsfabianadocarmo @ouatpost @ultraluckycatnd @thepirateandhisson @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @captainswan21 @spaceconveyor @pirateprincessofpizza @sparlecorn93 @hollyethecurious @ammelia @pawshapedheart
I’m rebooting my taglist at the end of this fic, so if you’d like to keep getting tagged, please DM me. Thanks
Full fic on AO3
- - - - -
The night was quiet as the trio of ladies walked into the abandoned building.
Too quiet.
The information had been leaked subtly about the goblin infestation in the warehouse. The goblins themselves had been promised immunity for their part in the ruse, as long as they agreed to a term of tenancy that the Nolans drew up with their Chief, aided by Tink as a neutral fae party. But the three women were going to ‘clear out’ the warehouse after much research about the size of the clan.
Emma would rather have been clearing the warehouse for real, but they needed an element of surprise beyond what they’d initially planned. The goblins understood the delicate balance of their world more than most gave them credit for. They were still mischievous tricksters, but they could be bargained with and tended to turn against evil more than they turned on the good. It was a risk, but one they’d had to take. They’d just had to prove that they were good and that Gold and Regina were evil.
All three women were armed to the teeth, but their ambushers would expect that considering what they were supposedly walking into. Goblins were known to turn on those they had smiled upon at a moment's notice for a perceived slight. But even so, they were still no match for two whole covens, plus whoever they’d managed to coerce, by themselves.
The factory was old, abandoned for decades, having passed through several hands that had done nothing with it as whatever industry it had been built for had died, or moved on to areas with cheaper real estate. The air was dank and musty, with a metallic hint of rust in it. The roof was broken in several places, and the drip of persistent leaks echoed around them amid their footfalls on the metal walkway that crossed this section of the factory.
The sunken level below them was a shallow stagnant pool of decaying leaves and rotting wood that had once been connected to the bits of machinery whose jagged edges stuck up out of the rusty ooze. Each drip from the roof disturbed the surface of the water, and Emma’s nose wrinkled in disgust at the smell.
The smell alone was enough to keep most people out, but goblin’s noses weren’t particularly well developed. They relied on keen vision, even in the dark and their sense of touch was wildly superior to even many supernaturals. They could feel vibrations in the earth around them, which was why they preferred abandoned places and tended to decide how bad people were by how much unnecessary noise they made.
But, Emma was not here for the goblins, and they knew that. Her and her mother’s footfalls were a warning of their entrance, but even if the goblins hadn’t known they were coming, Emma would have expected a flit of movement beneath the metal walkway, an indication of some kind that their sentries had seen them enter and were reporting back to their chief about the intruders. But they’d agreed to be transparent about their movements and there was none of that.
They were supposed to be here, to let them in… and let their ambushers in behind them.
There was something lurking in the darkness, her magic could feel it. But she couldn’t feel the goblins like she’d been able to when they’d met before. What she could feel was darker, more sinister, but in some weird way more familiar than the goblins.
- - - - -
Continues on AO3
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CS AU: Pan Says... (8/?)
Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.
A/N: Look at me getting another chapter up within a month of the previous update! I can't tell y'all how much your replies, reblogs, comments, likes, kudos have meant to me.
I have plotted out the remainder of this story and I believe we'll have 2-3 more chapters. It all depends on how wordy I get, lol. The muse has been very generous as of late, so fingers crossed that I can wrap this up before I need to work on my supernatural summer fic in earnest.
Lots of love to @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4 for their exceptional beta skills!
Rated E /Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven
Chapter Prompts: I received a couple of prompts asking for the scenarios I've mentioned in this update. I have glanced over them a bit, though. I hope the prompters won't mind.
Warnings: Mentions of anal sex, edging, mutual masturbation, exhibitionism and voyeurism.
Part Eight
Killian collapsed back onto the bed, thoroughly spent and utterly exhausted. The mattress shook from the way Emma’s legs were quivering, her knees and upper body anchored to the bed with her ass in the air, still presented. The ass he’d just taken as a way of technically complying to Pan’s most recent command without actually doing the thing he knew Pan had meant for him to do.
Pan Says… come inside her this time.
The command had only been issued to Killian; a new twist to this particular round of the game. Instructions were given to only one of them at a time, usually when the other was in the lavatory or still asleep, and no longer delivered audibly. They were not permitted to share what the exact instruction was with each other, and had to therefore trust that their compliance to the other’s words was what Pan required.
The morning after their reunion was when it had all started. He’d come back from relieving himself to find Emma awake and looking slightly confused and distressed.
“Swan? What is it? What happened?”
“I… I can’t tell you,” she said. “He said I’m not supposed to tell you I just have to…”
Killian climbed back into bed and took her hand in his. “It’s alright, love,” he assured her. “Whatever it is he’s told you, you won’t have to go through it alone.”
Her eyes flicked up to his, swirling with contrition and a sense of determination. “I know,” she replied. Pushing against his chest, she forced him to lay back as she began to peel his pajama pants down his legs. “I need you to pay attention, because” she paused, swallowed hard, then wet her lips. “Swan says… everything I’m about to do to you, you will have to reciprocate in kind.”
Those next two days they had licked and kissed and sucked and branded and tongued every inch of each other. Exploring one another’s body with nothing more than their mouths.
The third day of Round Three had them experimenting with various toys and apparatus. He’d been told to edge her all day with the various wands and vibrators as she lay tied up from the four corners of the bed. It had been torture. Reducing her to a whimpering, begging, desperate collection of moans, tears, and sobs when all he wanted to do was alleviate the torment. But he’d dared not. Not after the last time they had disobeyed.
He was certain he would get his comeuppance on day four, especially when they woke to a basket of anal toys, in an assortment of styles and sizes. All Pan had required of them that day, however - delivered through a Swan Says… - was to shower and then fit each other with a plug, presumably to begin the process for more anal play later on.
Knowing they both had to be live wires of pent up sexual frustration by this point, day five had been mutual masturbation day.
“Your Captain says… touch yourself, love,” Killian instructed, stroking his cock as he watched Emma pleasure herself.
They had shared a total of eleven orgasms that day, and had become further acquainted with the various toys and butt plugs Pan insisted not go to waste.
Now, day six, Killian was allowed to penetrate his Swan with something other than his tongue or his fingers or a bit of vibrating silicone, but only under one condition… that he finish inside her.
Pan never said anything about it having to be in her cunt, so he’d taken advantage of the ambiguity by taking her ass instead, since they’d both been stretching and preparing themselves for anal play.
And fuck him if it hadn’t felt amazing - the defiance and the tight, forbidden depths in which he’d just spilled himself. Glancing over at Emma, her face shimmering from a sheen of sweat with an expression of sated and elated ecstasy, he knew she had enjoyed it too… but then of course, she did not know the full reason as to why he’d taken her ass and not her pussy.
She was no longer protected from the threat of an unwanted pregnancy.
“Wow,” Emma exhaled. “That was…”
“Don’t try and move too much,” he told her as he reached over and helped ease her into a more comfortable position. “Just rest. I’ll go get something to clean us up.”
“And some water,” she called out after him.
“Aye. And water,” he responded, as though he needed reminding.
He didn’t.
A week into Round Three and they had already settled into a routine. A week-long marathon of teasing, edging, training, and orgasms. A week of them taking orders from one another, of placing a new form of trust in the other’s hands. A week of them not talking about what had happened in the weeks before, or more to the point… the moments before this round had begun.
Swallowing thickly, he pulled back and softly whispered, “I love you, Emma.” Then captured her lips before she could reply.
“I think that’s enough sharing for one day,” Pan’s curt tone crackled over the speakers, forcing them apart. “In fact, Pan says no more talking until Round Three begins… which shall be first thing tomorrow morning. Sleep well.”
Killian’s jaw tightened as he watched Emma open and then close her mouth with longing and uncertainty swirling in her gaze. Squeezing his hand, she rolled off the bed and padded her way to the lav. Afterward, they both got dressed and curled up next to one another in bed, the silence between them deafening.
In the past week, she had not reciprocated those words and he had not uttered them again. Not because he hadn’t meant them, because he had. He did. He does. He regretted saying it, though. Regretted giving Pan more ammunition to use against them. Regretted having the memory of those words first said here, in this setting, under these circumstances. Regretted putting her on the spot when he knew, even if she felt the same, she couldn’t possibly be ready to say it back to him. And that was okay. He never wanted to push or pressure her, they had enough to contend with from the outside demands of their ‘host’. So, for now, all he wanted was to try and make things as easy for her as he could. To protect her and safeguard her to the best of his ability… even if that meant not talking about it and fucking her in the ass in order to keep her from getting pregnant.
“I have something special planned for you,” Pan said, startling him as they finished their aftercare routine. “But it requires a bit of a field trip.”
Confused, they both looked at one another then towards the door as it opened. Killian took her hand as they stood, placing himself in front of her as he always did when they were instructed to leave their cell.
“Pan says to follow the purple line until it ends, then wait for further instructions.”
The purple line? That was a new one. They’d never been instructed to follow that one before. He knew blue led to the showers, green to the rooftop terrace, and yellow to the room where he’d been injected with supposed poison after disobeying Pan’s rules. Emma had told him that she thought the Lost One had carried her along the red line when she’d been taken after their night of lovemaking, so Killian had deduced (and kept the knowledge to himself) that it had led to the medical procedure room.
Following the purple stripe to its unknown destination, Killian made a mental note of the route and cataloged it alongside the other colors. Of course, there was still an orange and black line. Their destination was also a mystery to him, which made making a mental map of the facility difficult, but he attempted to do so nonetheless.
The path ended in a narrow passageway in front of a pane of darkened glass. A hidden panel behind them slid closed, shutting them inside the dead end. Before either of them could question what was happening, the pane in front of them lit up. It wasn’t just glass. It was a window, looking out onto a circular room with tiers of seats that were shielded by thin, see-through screens, their occupants only noticeable in silhouette.
Emma reached out and banged on the window, trying to get someone’s attention, but her efforts were ignored. When someone did pass by - a woman donning an elaborate mask that hid her identity, but not her vanity - and paused to check her red hair, Killian realized…
“It’s a mirror,” he murmured. “A two-way mirror. They can’t see us.”
“Not yet, anyway.” Pan’s voice echoed through the small room. “Besides… their attention is focused elsewhere at the moment.”
Emma gasped, pulling Killian’s focus to where her wide eyes were trained. In the center, lowest level of the room was a rotating platform, and on that platform were two people engaging in various sex acts whilst the spectators behind the screens watched.
“What the fuck is this?”
“An intimate gathering I host one weekend of each month for like-minded friends. Three days of exhibitionist delights and debauched voyeuristic entertainment. This is the second night.”
He paused as dread rolled through Killian’s stomach. His next words made bile creep up his throat.
“You two will be night three’s entertainment.”
“Fuck that!”
“You can’t be bloody serious!”
“I am serious enough that I’m willing to offer you your reward before you meet the terms of my… request.”
Emma scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “There is nothing you could offer that would make either of us--”
“Not even a chance to reach out to your friends and family so you can inform them that you are not only alive, but also in need of their help?”
They both balked then stared at one another. He couldn’t be serious.
“Why would you let us do that?” Killian inquired.
“Because I require your full compliance so that my guests get the experience they’ve paid for. I am, therefore, prepared to compensate you accordingly.”
“In advance?” Emma clarified. “You’d risk us agreeing and notifying our loved ones of the truth only to back out later?”
Pan’s tone sent a chill up Killian’s spine and he knew Emma had been affected by the hushed warning as well.
“I would advise against such schemes. You do not wish to fathom how far I will go in punishing those who embarrass me in front of my guests.”
“What if we simply refuse all together?” Killian asked, knowing there had to be a penalty of equal weight to the reward being offered.
“Then your association with one another is of no further use to me, and I shall reassign you to partners with whom you might be a bit more agreeable to my requests.”
Emma pressed herself into Killian’s side as he protectively wrapped his arms around her waist. They clung to one another, each of them eyeing the door with the fear that it might open and Lost Ones would be waiting to pry them apart.
“The choice is yours,” Pan said. “I’ll give you some time to consider your options.” The panel slid open, revealing the corridor beyond. “Pan says to return to your room. Further information regarding tomorrow night’s entertainment will be waiting for you.”
~/~
Emma couldn’t stop the tremors coursing through her body. She wasn’t sure how she had made it back to their cell on such shaky legs, and the items awaiting them once they’d returned had done nothing to help alleviate her body’s physical response to the dread and anxiety overwhelming her.
In the center of the room was a table that held an old fashioned, corded phone. It had only three buttons on the dial panel; one labeled Nolan, one labeled Liam, and one labeled Decline. Next to the phone was a binder, and within it were the rules, expectations, and procedures for the night of entertainment she and Killian were meant to supply to Pan and his perverted guests.
A note also accompanied the binder. It read, Pan says to discuss the instructions in full before making your choice. Should you choose to comply, make your calls accordingly. Should you choose to decline, press the appropriate button and my Lost Ones will see to your reassignment.
“Say something,” Killian pleaded. Having read through the binder aloud, he’d tossed it over his shoulder then slumped forward with his head in his hands and his elbows braced against his knees.
“What is there to say?” she said, on the edge of panic. “We can’t refuse him. I can’t… I can’t lose you. I can’t let someone else… I can’t--”
“Hey. Hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, gathering her in his arms and cradling her against his chest. “I know.” His lips brushed the crown of her head and his chest rose and fell from a deep, fortifying breath. “But we have to discuss it. We have to talk it through. I won’t give him any reason to separate us. No loopholes.”
Emma nodded and pulled back so she could stare up into his face. “You’re right. We have to follow his instructions to the letter if we want to avoid penalty or punishment, and as much as I really don’t relish the idea of having to” -she gestured towards the binder- “do that. The idea of being forced apart makes me…”
“Aye. Me, too.” Reaching back he picked up the binder and opened it across his lap. “The good news is… none of the spectators are allowed to touch us or participate physically in any of the acts we perform on one another.”
“Yeah,” Emma groused. “They just get to dictate what acts we perform.”
Pan’s guests essentially got to be him for a night. Each of them would be able to make suggestions and vote on what sort of acts they wanted to see their entertainment perform on one another. Those requests would then be relayed to them through an ear bud or in some other manner.
Requests involving excessive violence or anything that might leave a permanent mark would not be permitted. She and Killian would have their identity obscured through the use of a domino mask and could opt to have an alias used in lieu of their actual names as well. Of course, they both had distinguishing features that could give away their identities, but what were the odds of them ever encountering these people again?
“Do you want to fill out the form first?” Killian asked, referring to the questionnaire Pan had provided, allowing them each to select up to ten items they absolutely would not consent to. “Or we could go over it together, if you’d prefer?”
If she’d prefer? Did it even matter anymore as to what she would prefer?
Emma’s chest tightened and her stomach dropped as the periphery of her vision darkened and blurred spots floated in her vision. A dull ringing began to develop in her ears, strengthening in its tone, pitch, and volume as the pressure in her lungs grew critical and she realized she’d been holding her breath. Rage bubbled up from her stomach and despair stung the corners of her eyes.
This was it, she realized. This was her breaking point. Emma had absolutely had enough.
Launching herself off the bed she stomped to the center of the room and rounded on Killian. “No! I don’t want to go over the questionnaire! I don’t want to discuss everything involved with tomorrow night’s entertainment! I don’t want to do any of this! I want to go home!”
Hysterics overtook her and she crumpled to the floor, but not before Killian wrapped her up in his arms to help break her fall. Clinging to him, she wept into his shoulder, her body practically convulsing from the release of pent up emotions and strain.
“I know, love,” Killian murmured, his voice tight and gravely from his own held back emotions. He continued to comfort her with soft words of nonsense as his hand caressed soothing circles over her back. After several long minutes, she could feel dampness against her hairline and when she pulled back to glance up, she found it was because Killian had started shedding tears of his own.
A few hiccups escaped her as she tried to calm herself. Killian’s hands cupped her face and he brushed away her tears with the pads of his thumbs before pressing his forehead to hers.
“Just you and me, love,” he whispered. “We will face this new degradation as we have all the others. Together.”
Pulling back, he brushed her hair away from her face, carding his fingers through the long strands and gently scratching her scalp in the way he knew she liked. “We will forget about Pan and those who have come to witness our debasement and focus only on one another. Aye?”
“Aye,” she replied in a sorry attempt to mimic his accent, which pulled a small smile from him. Flicking her gaze up to meet his, she said, “I’m sorry. I--”
“You never have to apologize to me, love,” he replied, wrapping her in his arms again and holding her tightly to his chest. “It’s a wonder we’ve both gone this long since our last breaking point.”
Emma laughed mirthlessly. He had a point. This certainly wasn’t the first time one of them had fallen to pieces and thrown a well deserved tantrum, allowing the homesickness, injustice, and despair to spill over from their boiling points. Allowing him to pick her up off the floor, she tried to bury the worry about whether or not it would be the last.
“What would you say,” Killian began, leading them back over to the bed and sitting them on the edge, “to us choosing our false names, our aliases as it were, and proceeding in those personas as a way of distancing ourselves from it?”
“You mean like… pretending this is all happening to someone else?”
“In a way.” Killian took her hand and threaded his fingers between hers. “It might allow us to… dissociate from having to fully experience it ourselves if we think about it happening to… The Captain and… whatever pseudonym you might select for yourself, instead.”
Emma rolled her bottom lips between her teeth and considered the suggestion. It would be like role play. The audience wouldn’t be seeing them, wouldn’t be controlling them, they’d be witnessing two characters crafted to play out a role that was separate from the actors themselves. The thought of that released a bit more of tension she was holding onto and an exhale passed over her lips, carrying her agreement.
“Yes. I like that idea.” Cocking her head to one side, she looked up at him with a teasing smirk and taunted, “The Captain?”
A blush bloomed across his cheeks and tinted the tips of his ears as he reached up to paw at the patch of skin behind his jawline. “Aye. Uh… I thought it might serve as a fitting moniker.”
“Hmmm,” Emma hummed with a coy glint in her eye. “I like it.” Wetting her lips, which almost always centered his focus on her mouth, Emma dipped her gaze then flicked it back up, peering at him from beneath her lashes as she sultrily inquired, “Would the Captain be agreeable to having a naughty Wench at his side for tomorrow’s night entertainment?”
A wicked smile stretched across his lips, and she could see the gleam of relief and pride flicker in his eyes before they turned dark and heated. “Oh, aye,” he replied in a deep timbre that damn near made her toes curl. “I think the Captain would enjoy a naughty Wench’s companionship very much indeed.” Plucking a paper from the binder, he held it out to her and with his Captain’s voice ordered, “Be a good little Wench and fill this out so your Captain knows all the deplorable things he’ll get to do to you.”
“Aye, aye… Captain.”
Part Nine - Coming Soon!
Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)
(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)
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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.”
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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.
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“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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The Fields of Asphodel
Chapter Nine- Cue Desperate Measures
Tagging the Usual Crew: @kmomof4 @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @tiganasummertree @sotangledupinit
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Catch Up Here: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08
Here’s the thing: Neal knew not to trust his grandfather. He had been a victim of Pan’s lies and manipulations before this, and he had fallen for them hook, line, and sinker far too many times already (though he hadn’t always known that Pan was his grandfather). He knew that doing what Pan suggested was absolutely going to put him in a position that would somehow be simultaneously the absolute worst thing that could happen for him and the absolute best thing that could happen for Pan. He knew that following Pan’s directions about going to the well was going to result in a disaster of truly epic proportions. It would even probably be on the same level of fuck-up that his abandoning Emma to serve his prison sentence had been.
But dammit all to hell if he wasn’t going to do it anyway.
All Neal could think about since that visit from his grandfather was the letter he had written to Henry after an evening spent trying to drink his feelings of inadequacy and despair away (it didn’t work, but the action made him feel a little better that at least he was going through the motions). He regretted his actions that had torn him away from the son he didn’t know he had fathered for eleven years. He regretted even more that he had fallen for Zelena’s trap and sacrificed his life to resurrect his father. Had he listened to Belle that there might be another way, he wouldn’t be stuck here now in an eerily similar situation to how his own upbringing had been, only with him as the father this time.
He had (badly) counseled another grieving woman, his eyes going to the desk drawer that held the unfinished letter to Henry, when he decided that enough was enough. He closed the office, canceled the rest of his appointments, and pulled his desk apart to find the letter and reread it once more. The office was littered with debris he had scattered from his desk, but Neal couldn’t bring himself to care.
It was several pages long, and written in Neal’s untidy scrawl. It contained all of the apologies he felt he owed Henry and the dreams for Henry’s life that he never got to say. He felt awful that the only legacy he could give Henry now was a letter he’d never get to send and a bevy of broken dreams and empty promises. Henry was his unfinished business that he wouldn’t ever get to resolve.
Only now, if he listened to Peter Pan, he’d have a way to communicate his final words to his son. The thought of Henry not knowing his father had been his biggest supporter was too much for Neal to bear. Grabbing a pen, he scribbled one last thought onto the last page and then rolled it up and stuffed the missive into a plastic soda bottle and screwed the cap on tight. It wasn’t glass with a cork, but it would have to do.
He shrugged on his coat hastily and made his way out the door, moving as fast as he could to the well. He left the rest of his belongings behind, intent upon coming back as soon as he could. He needed to do this, to complete his unfinished business so he could move on. Neal left the town behind as he headed for the trail he knew existed that would take him by the well.
After around thirty minutes of hiking through the decaying forest, getting his feet caught in exposed roots and kicking and stumbling over rocks in his haste, he finally came to the wishing well. He stopped short, surveying the woods around him. In spite of the supposed importance this well had in being a connection to the Land of the Living, Neal was surprised that there seemed to be no barriers or guardians. He took a step forward, proceeding cautiously. He paused, and when nothing happened, moved closer. He continued this cautious approach until he was right next to the well.
Neal leaned over and peered down into its depths. It didn’t look any different from how it appeared in Storybrooke. The water was a bit murky and red tinted, but so was everything down here. It came from Hades’ magic causing a fake daylight that wasn’t really daylight. The brimstone and rock that housed the Underworld cut off the natural light source and influenced the appearance of the available light for the world to present the illusion of home for the denizens of the Underworld.
He took the plastic bottle and considered it for a moment. He also took out Pan’s scroll and held it in his other hand. He didn’t know what his grandfather wanted to give Henry, but he was certain it couldn’t be anything good. Neal slipped the scroll back into his pocket and held the bottle over the wishing well and let go of it. He watched as the bottle plummeted.
He had done it. Neal had actually managed to communicate one last time with his son. He could finally move on in peace. He turned to go back to the town, his mind on going to the Place of Judgement to finally have his soul weighed against his unfinished business when a loud screech echoed closely behind him. He turned around and looked at the sky. His eyes widened at the sight of a solid black hell-dragon in the sky, its wings flapping as it hovered directly above him.
Years of instinct told Neal to turn and run, so that’s what he did. He ran as fast as he could through the undergrowth of the forest, barely feeling the stinging whip of the tree branches against his exposed skin. He ran just as fast as he had that day in New York when Emma had chased him down, only coming to a stop when she tackled him in the street. He didn’t question the instinct that had overtaken him at the sight. He just knew whatever the beast was doing, it was looking for him.
He dodged tree roots, tripping and stumbling over them and protruding rocks, barely managing not to fall. Though he knew not to look back, Neal glanced over his shoulder at the hell-dragon, only to see it lock onto its target and flap its wings back into a dive.
“Oh shit,” Neal muttered, realizing that the target was indeed him. He stopped and ducked just in time as the beast swooped down and tried to grab him. The beast missed him by inches, though Neal didn’t escape unscathed. He grimaced at the claw marks left in his jacket, but a glance at the dragon confirmed that it was already turning around to make a second grab, and Neal knew he didn’t have time to dally around.
He took off running again, desperately sprinting as fast as he could. He huffed and puffed (it had been a very long time since he had had to run like this; he had nearly forgotten what it felt like and resolved to start running every day after work). He tried valiantly to keep up his pace, but every glance backwards told him the dragon was gaining on him, getting closer and closer.
Neal poured everything he had into his sprint. He couldn’t put any more effort into his breakneck pace, and he could feel his body slowing from the exertion. His lungs burned, though they didn’t need oxygen, his legs ached from the strain, and his heart was pounding though it did not beat. He knew that everything he was feeling was an illusion, but he couldn’t break through it. Desperate, he looked behind him one last time.
His eyes off the path in front of him, he failed to see the tree root just in front of him. His foot clipped it mid stride and he fell hard. He rolled through the leaves from the momentum, finally coming to a stop on his side facing away from the dragon. He tried to scramble to his feet, scattering leaves and dirt all around him, but he was too late. The dragon wrapped its claws around him and lifted Neal into the air. He screamed at the sudden change in altitude and at the claws biting into his back and arms and chest. He kicked his legs futilely, but the beast did not let him go.
Neal watched as the Underworld version of Storybrooke grew smaller and smaller in the distance as the hell-dragon flew higher and higher. The claws gripped him tighter, and he felt blood starting to soak through his clothes. He began to feel lightheaded at the sensation; he was never one for donating blood because it made him so queasy. He wondered if his message had managed to even reach his son.
Now he had a sinking feeling that he would never get to know.
The claws sank in deeper, and Neal finally passed out.
Henry had been the fifth child of a king of a small kingdom in the Enchanted Forest, and he had married out of convenience and duty to the throne. He had never been destined for much in terms of leadership or positions of power, and he, as the fifth-born son, had been just fine with that as long as he had been alive. His bride, a peasant named Cora who had claimed the ability to spin straw into gold, had been the one who had thirsted for power. Most of the time, they got along so long as he left her to her devices and scheming and plotting. In truth, being married to Cora hadn’t been easy, for the gods only knew what kind of problems they had experienced during their long marriage, but she had borne him the absolute apple of his eye in his daughter Regina, and if he had let her walk all over him during that time, it had all been worth it to see Regina grow up.
But as he took in the handful of toddlers throwing things and screaming and crying all around him, he had to wonder if his lack of ambition as the fifth-born son was the reason he was in this position today.
A wooden block hit his head and bounced off. Henry, for all the patience he had developed during his life (Cora really had a way of trying it), felt his temper slowly starting to fray. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning to the toddler who had thrown the block and crouching down to the boy’s level.
“We don’t throw blocks,” Henry told the boy, trying to affect a gentle yet firm tone of voice. The boy blinked up at him for a moment and then started to let out a wail worthy of the ogres. Henry closed his eyes in exasperation before trying to calm him, but he knew it was no use. The toddlers here had died before they could complete any true development of the mind; they were essentially frozen as they were in life.
He was in the middle of staving off this latest temper tantrum (which seemed to be setting off some of the other toddlers in the preschool where Henry had been sentenced to work as his penance for being unsuccessful in reining in his wife or his daughter) when someone loudly cleared their throat from the door.
Henry looked up and stared. Cora was standing in the doorway, dressed in the rags that he knew she had worn in her life as the miller’s daughter before their marriage. She grasped her hands and waited. He straightened and slowly walked to his estranged wife.
“Cora, what are you doing here?” he asked once he was close enough that he wouldn’t need to shout.
“I’m here about our daughter,” she replied. “It seems she’s in the Underworld.”
His eyes widened. “Regina’s here?”
“Yes, though I’ve heard she’s not dead. Hades is looking for her, and he has something terrible planned for her once he finds her.”
Henry furrowed his brow in confusion. “How do you know this?”
Cora sighed. “I overheard him when I was delivering flour from the mills. We need to find her and make sure she leaves before he can find her.”
Henry nodded in agreement. “How are we going to do that?”
Cora smiled. “By doing this.” She waved her hand and he was transported away from the preschool to the location she wanted him at, leaving the toddlers with the other caretakers who were there in the facility. “Now she’ll have no choice but to do as I want. I won’t let her become another one of Hades’ victims.”
The first thing Neal became aware of was an ache in his chest that was somewhat similar to how it had felt after Tamara shot him. The second thing he became aware of was his head pounding like a drum. The third thing was someone whistling a jaunty, yet annoying, tune.
He opened his eyes and looked around. He was in some sort of cell, with stone walls that rose several stories all around him and no door. Standing in the doorway was a man in a suit with red hair. Though Neal had only seen him once when he had been sentenced to his job, Neal recognized him instantly. This was Hades.
Neal pushed himself up gingerly into a sitting position. His chest ached from where the hell-dragon’s talons had pierced it, and he felt as if he couldn’t take a full breath, but other than that, he had to admit, he had been in worse scrapes than this. Hades watched him struggle with a gleeful grin.
“Welcome to Solitary!” Hades announced. “This is the special place where people who defy me get to spend their time.”
“I haven’t tried to defy you,” Neal protested.
“Oh, haven’t you? I found this in your pocket.” Hades pulled out the scroll that Pan had given him earlier. “Does this look familiar?”
Neal shrugged. “My grandfather gave it to me. He wanted me to pass it on to my kid, but I didn’t do it.”
Hades nodded, chewing his lips as he listened to Neal’s explanation. “You mean you decided to keep it.”
Neal’s face screwed up in disbelief. “Keep it? He tried to kill my son; why would I want to keep anything he would give me or Henry?”
Hades took out the scroll and unraveled it, glancing at the words written on it momentarily. “Maybe because it has instructions on how to leave the Underworld?”
Neal blinked at Hades’ insinuation.
“The only reason you would have to keep this would be to keep the information for yourself. Of course, this would only work if you could return to life, but I imagine this information would be very useful for all your friends back in Storybrooke.”
Neal shook his head slightly. “Well... wait, why would this information be useful to them?”
Hades smiled and his hair erupted into flames. “Take a look for yourself.” He held out a hand as if to show off a brand new car and stepped out of the way of Neal’s view.
Neal looked across to the cell directly across from his. He gasped in horror when he realized who he was looking at. Killian Jones lay there on the cold, hard stone, unconscious and bloody. Neal didn’t think he’d ever seen the pirate that badly injured before in all his time of knowing Captain Hook. Not even in all the years of being trapped in Neverland had he seen the man that bloody, and he had seen the damage the Lost Boys had done to Hook. Neal stared in horror at the man who could have been a father figure to him had life been any different or if fate hadn’t had other ideas. A slow trickle of blood ran down Killian’s face from a wound that looked freshly opened. Neal watched as the blood freely dripped off the pirate’s nose into a small pool on the stone floor. Drip. Drip. Drip.
“What the hell?” Neal whispered once he got his voice back. “What’d you do to him? Why is he even down here?”
“Let’s just say he bit off more than he could chew when it came to being a hero. And now he refuses to accept his fate.”
Neal looked at Hades. The god wore a careful expression on his face, but Neal wondered how devil-may-care Hades actually was feeling at the moment. “Accept his fate?” Neal echoed.
“Indeed. He has these silly notions of being rescued in his head.” Hades chuckled. “I don’t know where he gets them.”
Neal did some fast thinking. If Hook was here, then something had to have happened with Emma. Neal knew Hook wouldn’t willingly leave her side if he had no other choice. But did that mean…?
“Well it’s a good thing you got that scroll, then. It could be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands,” Neal said.
Hades smirked. “I thank you. But you’re still going to spend some time down here to think about what you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done? I haven’t done anything! You have the scroll there in your hands!” Neal protested, pointing to the scroll Hades held.
Hades tilted his head and considered Neal for a moment. “No, I see it still there in your eyes. You’re in possession of contraband.”
“What contraband?”
Hades took a measured step forward until he could stare into Neal’s eyes. He leaned in close and whispered into Neal’s ear, “Hope.”
A groan could be heard from behind them. Neal looked to see Killian starting to stir, his face a permanent grimace of pain. Hades straightened, a nasty grin on his face.
“Ah! Our friend is awakening! You’ll excuse me for a moment? I need to see if I can persuade our esteemed captain into seeing things my way once more.” Hades left Neal with one unhinged smile before he poofed himself and Hook away.
Neal let out the breath he had been holding. What had happened back in Storybrooke?!
~*~*~*~*~*~
Peter Pan may have been here in the Underworld longer than Rumple, but Rumple had more tools at his disposal than Peter Pan. After Peter Pan had taunted him about knowing Bae’s whereabouts and offering that ridiculous deal, Rumple had used a couple of those tools. He had found out through some simple questions of the Underworld’s denizens (meaning he had threatened some people’s still-living loved ones if they didn’t tell him the information he sought) that Neal Cassidy’s information should have been recorded at City Hall. He had gone there and, using his powers of persuasion (ergo, more threats), managed to find out that Neal’s job had been to counsel newly deceased mothers who had left behind children in the Land of the Living. He also obtained a dwelling address and the address of the office Neal had been counseling inside.
Rumple decided that the first place he would look was the dwelling. After poofing to the address and breaking inside using magic, he saw that the dwelling was nothing more than a place to sleep (or whatever caricature of sleep the dead actually did). There was nothing there. Undeterred, Rumple pooped over to the office in which Bae had to counsel newcomers who had been sentenced to paying their penance. Upon his arrival, Rumple knew that he had finally hit the jackpot. It really was too bad that he hadn’t had more time before having to take his father’s deal, but it wouldn’t matter anyway once all had unfolded.
The office was the exact same as it was in Storybrooke under Dr. Hopper’s care. The same walls, same furniture, same books and papers… Nothing had changed, though Rumple could see signs of another occupant. A used coffee mug sat on the desk, a half-empty water bottle beside it. Pens were scattered on the sofa table, and a notepad with notes scrawled across it sat beside the pens.
Rumple looked at the notepad, recognizing Bae’s messy handwriting that had been formed when Runple tried so hard to teach him to write his letters. He smiled a sad smile at seeing the chicken scratch one more time.
A sport coat that looked to be Bae’s taste hung on the coat rack by the door, and a drawing of a boy hung on the wall beside it. Rumple wondered for a moment why the drawing had caught his eye, but once he moved closer he understood. The picture was one of Henry. Bae must have drawn it shortly after arriving here after his death. A pang of heartbreak struck his chest. Bae would never get to see his son grow up and grow older. He wished for what had to be the millionth time that Bae had left him alone and hadn't tried to resurrect him. Then maybe Bae could have still had a chance to get back to Henry. To be the father that Rumple had never gotten to be for Bae.
But alas. Some things were never meant to be.
Rumple moved away from the drawing and all that it represented. He shuffled through some papers, but none of them held any news on the current whereabouts of his son. He ripped open the drawers of the desk, slamming them shut when they held nothing but staples, paper clips, and other various office junk. He ripped open the last draw, and spying only papers, moved to slam it shut when he looked a little closer.
Catching the drawer before it could shut, he slid it back open and reached inside. He took out a crumpled ball of paper. Using both hands to smooth it out, he scanned the words written on its surface.
It appeared to be a letter of apology to Henry, but parts of it were scratched out. Rumple read the parts that he could, but since the letter was scratched out so much, he really could only scan it. Turning it over, he read the last lines, which hadn’t been scratched out.
I’m sorry for all the pain I caused your mother and you. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I guess it wasn’t. You were the one who suffered for it. Emma and I have made our peace, hopefully, but I never did get to make it with you. I hope you realize that, though I spent only a brief time with you, I love you with all my heart.
I’m sorry I can’t be there to tell you in person. You and your forgiveness is my unfinished business, and Henry, I wish I could be there to earn it. I wish I could get to see you grow. I wish I could be there for all the milestones, but all I can do is write this letter and hope that it one day gets to you. I was told of a way that I might be able to send it, so I’m going to rewrite this into a cleaner version and then try to send it to you. I have no idea if the well will do what it’s purported to, but I have to try.
I’m glad I was able to get to Neverland to help save you. Of all the mistakes I’ve made where you and your mother are concerned, I got that one right. Peter Pan is down here too. He’s the same as ever, though he did tell me to tell you he had “no hard feelings.” I’m glad he can’t ever get to you again. That is at least one thing that helps me to rest easy down here. But hey, I’ll see you again. This isn’t over, and I hope you know that wherever you are, I’m still there. I love you.
The letter appeared as if it had been part of at least another page, but Rumple couldn’t find the other pages. The part about Peter Pan was what caught his eye, he realized, perusing the words again. Rumple wasn’t surprised at all to find evidence that his father had lied about seeing Baelfire down here; in fact, he had expected it. There was something about the part of the well that bothered him, though he couldn’t put his finger on what.
Casting one last look around the office and taking in how scattered and ransacked the place looked, there was one thing that Rumple was sure of. Bae was in danger.
Looking at the door with darkness in his eyes, he knew the best way to get to his son was to persuade Emma Swan to take the case. And he knew just the way to get her invested. With a wave of his hand, he disappeared in a cloud of red smoke and reappeared outside the door of Emma Swan’s house.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“Did you know him?”
Neal jumped at the spoken words; he hadn’t expected anyone else to be around. He looked out the doorway and down the hall. A woman with light brown hair and dressed in rags was in the cell next to his.
“Uh, yeah,” Neal responded shortly. “Who- who are you?”
“My name is Megara, but my friends call me Meg,” the woman responded.
“At least they would if you had any friends?” Neal quipped.
Megara gave him a puzzled look. “What?”
Neal chuckled. “Nevermind, sorry. Bit of a bad joke. So you’re Meg, huh?”
Meg blinked. “Yes. Did you know him? Killian Jones?”
Neal nodded. “Yeah, I did.”
Meg tilted her head in consideration. “How so?”
Neal sighed. “It’s complicated. Let’s just say he and I were interested in the same woman at one point.”
Meg nodded. “Who was she?”
Neal chuckled. “You sure do ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”
Meg smiled. “Sorry. I’m not used to having many people around. Not very many people get put into Solitary these days. You must have done something real bad for Hades to put you in here.”
Neal grimaced. “You could say that, yeah.” He leaned his head back against the wall. “Apparently I tried to sneak instructions to my son and his family for escaping from the Underworld.”
Meg’s eyes bugged. “You did?”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. I had no idea the scroll had that written on it, though.”
Meg nodded in understanding. “I’ve been here since I helped my True Love defeat Hades. It’s been ages, and he’s still punishing me.”
“Didn’t Hades want to overthrow Olympus? Is that how you defeated him?” Neal looked down at his shoes before looking back up at her. She was staring at him in disbelief.
“How do you know that?” Meg asked, amazement coloring her voice.
“Oh, I saw the movie,” Neal shrugged.
“What’s a movie?” Meg looked even more mystified than she had before. Neal was suddenly reminded very strongly of his conversation with Mulan when the two of them were traversing the distance from Phillip and Aurora’s kingdom to his father’s castle in the Enchanted Forest.
Neal stammered. “It’s a kind of story you watch that’s acted out, but that’s not really important right now.” Meg just looked even more confused. “So Hades has had you down here in Solitary this whole time?”
Meg nodded, seemingly letting go of what a movie was but still had a confused look on her face. “I owed him service for helping me, and when I defied him, he decided that this was my penance. It’s been centuries.”
They both fell silent for a while, both pondering the information the other had revealed.
“I spent some time in Neverland,” Neal said, finally getting tired of the silence. “Time stops in that realm. If it had continued, I’d be a couple of centuries old or so. I finally escaped that realm, and I ended up in the Land without Magic. I met this woman, Emma Swan, and we fell in love for a brief amount of time. I left her pregnant with our son, and I eventually came back into their lives when the boy was a bit older. I died after that, but I never got to make amends for leaving him. That’s why I’m stuck here in the Underworld.”
Meg’s jaw dropped as he continued his story. “Emma Swan? You know Emma Swan?”
Neal’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why? Do you know her?”
Meg nodded profusely. “Killian Jones sent me to find her! We figured out that I could leave my cell for brief periods of time, and he asked me to find her so I could help her find him!”
“He- he asked you to find her? What do you mean? She’s back in the Land of the Living!”
Meg shook her head, smiling. “No! No she’s not! She’s here in the Underworld! She’s with a big group of people looking to rescue Killian Jones!”
Neal stared at her in disbelief. “Emma came to the Underworld to get back Hook?” How could that possibly be? No one could enter the Underworld unless they were dead. How had he not known that she was trying to get down here?
“Yes, I saw her not too long ago!”
Neal continued staring at Meg, his brow furrowing as he thought about the implications. If it were true that Emma was down here, not dead, then that had to mean the Underworld operated on magic, a special kind of magic that couldn’t be breached except by a select brand. So how could she breach it?
“My father,” Neal said out loud. Meg blinked at the change in conversation but didn’t say anything. “He has to be the key. That means Emma was able to defeat the Wicked Witch! And Hook must have died during that conflict, and that’s why she’s down here!” He looked up at Meg, a smile beginning to bloom on his face. “Can you leave here and find her again?”
“I can try,” Meg replied. “I know where she was the last time I saw her; I can go there again and see if I can meetup with her briefly.”
“Then do it,” Neal breathe, “I can try to help her find Hook and get them out of here. Get her back to my son.”
Meg nodded. “I’ll be back soon.” She got up and crept out of the holding cell and down the corridor.
Neal watched her go and hoped that she would find Emma soon so he could finally make peace with his son.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“Now that we’ve got that settled, what did you and Robin see, Regina?” Emma asked after Robin had sufficiently looked his fill of his son in the mirror and moved away, cutting the image off.
“We saw a sort of vision of my father and mother being tortured. I don’t know where or why, but I’m willing to bet there is some sort of truth to it.”
“Well add that to the list of things we need to investigate” Emma rolled her eyes.
“We can handle my parents,” Regina replied. “I'll go see if I can figure out where they are and track them down. If I hear any word on Hook, I’ll let you know. Take a mirror with you so I can get in touch. I’m willing to bet our phones won’t work down here.”
Emma nodded, but before she could think of what to do next to find Hook, the front door opened, seemingly by itself. Everyone’s attention turned to it, wondering with varying degrees of dread why the door had swung open.
After a moment, Runplestiltskin sauntered in. Emma let out the bread she had been holding and rolled her eyes. Rumple merely stood there in the threshold, taking in who was present, his only expression at seeing Milah there being a quirk of his eyebrow.
“And I expected the heroes to be out searching for the pirate, not aimlessly huddled inside a house,” Rumple snidely stated as he finally entered Emma’s house as if he owned the place.
Milah frowned. “What are you doing here?” She demanded.
Rumple looked at her and blinked, as if surprised that she would actually talk to him. But that perplexed him less than her presence here did. How exactly did his ex-wife end up with the heroes? And with Emma Swan, no less? Oh, he was going to enjoy this.
He looked back at Emma, though he was addressing the whole group, and said, “I’ve come to lend my services.”
“And be locked into a deal with you? No thanks,” Emma retorted.
“From where I’m standing you don’t have much choice,” Rumple replied.
“We’re doing just fine without your help,” David chimed in.
“Oh, really? Tell me, have you found the pirate yet?” Rumple gazed around the room at everyone, but no one offered an answer in the affirmative, much as he had expected. “Then I think you could use the help.”
“Why do you want to help us all of a sudden? You took off the moment we got here.” Emma crossed her arms, a suspicious look in her eyes as she beheld the man who had betrayed them all.
“Because I would like to get back to Storybrooke and my wife,” he sneered. Milah started at his use of the word wife. He turned to her and smirked. “Not you, Dearie.”
Milah scowled. “I never assumed it was,” she sneered.
Rumple turned back to Emma. “This is what I’ll offer. You help me find someone, and I’ll help you find the pirate.”
“What someone?” Emma asked.
“My son.”
“Bae?” Whispered Milah in shock, but everyone ignored her.
Emma blinked. “Didn’t we already do this?” She asked rhetorically, holding out her arms in exasperation. “I swear, I feel like I already did this with you once. And look where it got me.”
“It would have gotten you a dead pirate hadn’t you helped me then, dearie,” replied Rumple pointedly.
“It looks like I got a dead pirate anyway because of you,” Emma hurled back.
“I said I was sorry,” Rumple waved his hands as if to dismiss his latest betrayal of them all.
“You didn’t actually,” David interjected.
Rumple cast him a withering look. “Then consider it said.” He turned back to Emma and continued, “Bae is in danger. It is mutually beneficial for us to team up to find both of them.”
“Whatever you say, Gold. Neal’s not here.” Emma rolled her eyes and gave him a flat look.
Rumple stared. “Yes he is.”
Emma shook her head. “No, he’s not. He came to me in a vision of some sort. When we were on the boat ride here,” Emma clarified. “He told me he moved on and that I shouldn’t try to do this.”
“He said that?” Snow asked in disbelief.
Emma nodded and replied, “He was very adamant that I was making a huge mistake and that he wouldn’t support it.”
“That doesn’t sound like Neal,” Snow stated.
Emma gave her a skeptical look, but before she could correct her mother, Rumple interrupted. “No, I have confirmation that he is down here. That vision must not be correct.”
Emma sighed. “What confirmation?”
Rumple paused a moment, contemplating how much he should reveal. “I was paid a visit by a common enemy earlier. He told me that Bae was down here being punished for something.”
“Common enemy?” David echoed.
Henry frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re talking about Peter Pan.”
Rumple nodded, and the group minus Robin and Milah groaned.
“Why is he here?” Regina grumbled.
“That’s irrelevant,” Rumple dismissed. The point is, if you help me find my son, then I will stop at nothing until I rescue the pirate. Do we have a deal, Miss Swan?”
Emma scratched her head and ran her fingers through her hair as she contemplated what this new deal would mean for her. “I mean, how much danger is Neal really in down here? I’m sure he’ll turn up at Granny’s or something. Why do we need to look for him?”
“Have you forgotten that he’s the son of the Dark One?” Rumble sneered. “A good portion of the dead people here in the Underworld, I’ve killed. There’s at least one of those in this room currently.”
Milah clenched her fist and her jaw at his words, eyes flashing as she tensed up even more than she had been if that were possible.
“He’s in danger by proxy down here. I’d rather know he was safe.”
Emma narrowed her eyes. Rumple knew she could sense the half-truth in his voice, could hear the Dark One’s twist on the words to reveal just enough without really giving anything away at all. He also knew that Emma was just past the point of being desperate enough to disregard the Dark One lies and tricks and accept his help.
He had his confirmation a moment later when she nodded her head once, terse in her movements, and said, “Fine. I’ll help you.”
Rumple nodded. “We should get a move on. I’ve located Bae’s office where he works down here. We’ll start there.” He turned to leave, but a sound of protest stopped him in his tracks.
“Wait, I thought we were going after Killian, first!” Emma frowned in confusion.
“No, the pirate is not in immediate danger. My son is. We find him, then the pirate.”
Emma nodded, not happy about the circumstances but not seeing a way to convince Rumple otherwise. “Fine, let’s go.”
“Wait!” Henry exclaimed. “I’m coming with you!”
Emma and Rumple both shouted at the same time, “No!”
Emma continued, “It’s too dangerous.”
Henry crossed his arms, a mutinuous expression gracing his face. “If it’s about my dad, I’m coming too. I didn’t get to see him before he died,” Henry added quickly upon seeing the looks on both Emma and Regina’s faces. “It’s only fair that I get to see him, too.”
Emma’s face looked as if her heart was breaking for her son. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “Fine, you can come. But you’re sticking close to me, or I’m poofing you back to Regina. Do you understand?”
Henry nodded.
Milah chimed in. “I’m going with you as well. I want to see my son again, and an extra pair of eyes on this one,” she sent Rumple a withering gaze, “can’t hurt.”
“Uh, I don’t recall inviting you,” Rumple protested.
“Tough. I invited myself. I’m not abandoning Bae this time.”
Rumple sighed an aggravated sigh. “What could possibly go wrong with this?” he muttered, rolling his eyes.
The two glared at each other for a moment.
Emma sighed and put her arm around Henry’s shoulders. “Let’s go, then.” To Henry, she quipped under her breath, “Welcome to dinner with the in-laws.” Henry grinned and they started to exit the house, the Dark One and his former wife trailing behind them.
A loud clunk sounded from just in front of them, and they stopped short. Everyone looked for what made the sound, but Emma knew. She stared down at her feet before slowly bending over. She picked something metallic up from the floor, gingerly, before standing again. Rumple squinted, trying to figure out what she cradled in her hands. She took a deep breath and turned, fierce determination and endless heartbreak glinting in her eyes.
In her hands was a hook. Rumple recognized it as the same one Hook had used as the replacement for his hand, the same one that the pirate had stabbed him with all those years ago on the deck of the pirate’s ship. It was stained with dried blood, the blood so thick in spots it was caked on.
The rest of their companions gasped in horror, minds immediately jumping to what was likely the right conclusion. Milah looked confused, but one look at Emma’s face told her something bad had happened to Killian.
“We have to hurry,” Emma choked out, barely holding back tears. “Killian is in more danger than we thought.”
Emma stood there just long enough for Rumple to recognize the sheer panic in her eyes before she turned and practically ran out the door. He, Henry, and Milah followed after her, though at a slightly more sedate pace.
Unbeknownst to them, miles down below where they were, Hades was watching them in a mirror and smiling with a deranged sort of glee. The jar of hope standing in the corner of the throne room filled a little more from the Savior’s panic. Killian Jones watched the scene and the jar with a cold fury that he hadn’t felt in centuries, but somehow this was worse.
“It looks like we’ve finally figured out what makes the Savior panic, what causes the Savior pain. Oh, I’m going to enjoy this,” Hades said as he waved his hand, signaling to Pain and Panic that it was time for them to carry out their work. Killian watched them leave, twin looks of malevolent expectation on their faces, and he struggled against his chains.
“You won’t win,” Killian spat. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Hades laughed. “Oh, I’ve already won. It’s just a matter of putting the pieces where they go.” He turned and stabbed Killian’s shoulder with a hot poker, causing the pirate to cry out in pain. The jar of hope’s contents raised incrementally. Hades continued to torture the pirate, determined that Killian Jones would at least contribute his pain, even if he wouldn’t give up his hope.
#The Fields of Asphodel#once upon a time#captain swan#captain hook#killian jones#emma swan#ouat#anmylica writes#csff#season 5 fix it#whumptober 2022#No 12#What could go wrong?#mayday mayday
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Under the Weather
This is just a little post-Neverland one-shot, taking place sometime after they've returned to Storybrooke with Henry. Pan's gone, and there is no second curse. It was probably inspired by cold January weather and my wondering how Hook managed to keep warm and not get sick on a freezing cold old ship. And it was cold January weather this morning that brought it back to mind to re-post this morning. Anyway, pretty sweet and fluffy, I'll admit it, but I still hope you enjoy.
Read on A03 and send some fluffy love to @snowbellswells
#captain swan fanfic#captain swan fic rec#captain swan fluff#captain swan fluffy february#csff#captain swan#cs ff
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Updated 12/30/2022 for New Year’s 2023
It’s been three years since I put together this little ficlit together. But every year, I pull it out and add to it. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll have a complete story.
Life has changed a lot for many of us since OUAT ended. While I’ve not been writing (or really even reading) fanfics, I haven’t said goodbye to writing, though. I’ve been writing small town mystery romance. My books are available in all Estores. You can check them out here. Swan Harbor Books
Some of my friends that I met through our love for CS @imagnifika @duathadun @lfh1226-linda and Maggie for hanging with me through it all.
My hope is for 2023 to bring peace and happiness to all. Remember - without hope, there would be no happy endings.
This ficlet follows canon from my Season 7 Canon divergent -- A Happy Ending Begins with Hope. It can be found on AO3, FF, and tumblr with gifs.
Summary: Hope has a date. How will her family react?
Hope’s New Year’s Date
Words ~ 1500
During Hope Jones’ young life, Storybrooke had gone through many changes, and none more so than around the holidays. They had town Easter Egg hunts, fireworks and picnics in July, bonfires for Halloween, family feasts at Thanksgiving, and caroling at Christmas.
Hope had memories of each one of them. However, there was one event that she had been looking forward to for years, and that was the Snowflake Ball.
Held every New Year’s Eve, the Snowflake Ball was only for those who were sixteen and above. Everyone brought out their formal clothes and danced until midnight. And, if she was lucky, the man she was crushing on would ask her to go with him.
Gideon Gold was ahead of her in school and so dreamy, he made her head spin. Plus, when he looked at her with his chocolate brown eyes, her heart raced, and her breath stuck in her throat.
She’d been crushing on him for years, but it had only been in the last six months that he’d given her the time of day. Did that mean that he was seeing her as more than a girl? If so, was it possible she’d finally get to spend the evening with him — as his date?
Two weeks before the New Year’s Eve Ball, Hope was at Granny’s with her best friends, Melanie and Robyn, bemoaning the fact that Gideon still hadn’t done as she wished. Her only saving grace was that he’d not asked anyone else either — of that, she was sure. So far, she’d tried everything she could think of to let him know she was available. At the speed he was moving, though ….
“Earth to Hope.” Melanie snapped her fingers several times. “Earth to Hope.”
“I’m sitting right here, Melanie,” Hope grumbled. “What’s the problem?”
“You were staring off into space again,” Robyn replied. “Were you dreaming about Gideon?”
“Shush,” Hope hissed. “He’s sitting right over there!”
“He can’t hear us,” Melanie assured her.
Hope glanced over her shoulder toward where Gideon was sitting with her uncle, Neal, and had to agree with Melanie. There was no way they could be heard from that far away.
“You should have told your uncle to tell Gideon to ask you out,” Robyn suggested. “It would have saved a lot of circling around each other.”
“Don’t you know circling around each other is part of the fun?” Hope grinned. “Or at least that’s what my mother says.”
“You don’t believe her, though. Do you?” Melanie followed up.
Hope glanced up from where she’d been pleating and unpleating her napkin. “Why would you say that?”
Melanie nodded down at the table. “Because you’re nervous. If you were having fun, you wouldn’t be nervous.”
Did she agree with her friends? She wasn’t so sure. Yes, she enjoyed flirting with Gideon. But it would be so much easier to enjoy flirting with him, if she knew what he thought of her.
“You could ask him, you know?” Robyn offered pragmatically. “This is the twenty-first century, after all.”
“I know,” Hope sighed. “But …” Again, her gaze was drawn over her shoulder to the table where Gideon and Neal were still involved in a deep conversation. Robyn was right. She could ask him.
“Go on,” Melanie encouraged. “But what?”
Hope shrugged. “My father is a little old-fashioned and well …”
Robyn frowned. “But didn’t I see in the book that your mother asked your father out first?”
“That was different,” Hope murmured. “My father didn’t think he was good enough for my mother.”
“And you don’t think that’s an issue with Gideon?” Melanie asked. “After all, his father and your father have a history.”
“Which I’m fully aware of,” Hope snapped. “But I want him to ask me. Do you think I’m expecting too much?”
“I would say ‘have hope,’” Melanie grinned. “But something tells me you don’t need it.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Robyn tipped her chin slightly in Gideon’s direction, “ he’s headed this way.”
“He’s what?” Hope squeaked.
“On his way over,” Melanie whispered.
Hope glanced over her shoulder, and when her gaze briefly met Gideon’s, her heart dropped into her stomach.
Oh my! Oh my! Oh my! She leaned on the table. “How do I look?”
Melanie rolled her eyes. “You look fine. Stop worrying.”
“Hope,” Gideon’s aftershave titillated her senses, “can I speak with you for a moment?”
Hope’s gaze slowly lifted until her blue eyes clashed with his dark ones. “Sure.” She wanted to roll her eyes at just how breathy she sounded. “Can I help you with something?”
Gideon’s gaze touched on Melanie and Robyn, then back to Hope. “Can we speak alone? Would that be alright?”
“Oh, Okay. That would be fine.” Then she wanted to roll her eyes at how ridiculous she sounded.
“Can we talk now?” Gideon asked again.
“Go on,” Melanie mouthed.
Hope took a nervous breath and slid out of the booth. The butterflies in her stomach took off at once. It forced her to focus on putting one foot in front of the other as she followed Gideon across the floor.
He led her around the building to a secluded corner and crowded her, pushing her to back up against the wall. Being close to him was everything she’d ever wanted, but now that it was happening, her heart was racing, and the urge to giggle was strong.
“Is this okay?” Gideon asked hesitantly. “I noticed that—“
“—Everyone was staring at us?” Hope muttered.
“Yes.” Gideon smiled. “Are you okay with that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well,” he went on. “Our fathers …”
“Will never be best friends,” Hope replied. “Why?” She hesitated for a beat. “Are you scared of my dad?” Then she wanted to smack herself in the head that those words had fallen from her mouth.
“Scared?” Gideon laid his hand on his chest. “Me?”
“There’s no one else out here.”
“I’m not scared.” Gideon propped one hand on the building next to her head and leaned in a little closer. “Should I be?”
“It depends.”
“On?”
“Why you brought me out here?”
Gideon’s gaze dropped to her mouth, then right back up. It caused her lips to tingle and made her wonder what it would feel like if she just went for it.
“Hope.” He brushed her hair behind her shoulder and took a half step closer. His dark eyes mesmerized her, and his heat reached out. “I was wondering if you would go to the Snowflake Ball with me?”
Her breath caught, and the words Be cool! Be cool! were on repeat inside her head. But having Gideon ask her to go to the dance had been her dream for longer than she could remember. “Yes!” She fought to keep from squealing. “Yes, I’ll go to the dance with you.”
A slow smile crawled across Gideon’s mouth. “You will?”
“I will.”
His eyes twinkled, and before he even opened his mouth, somehow, she knew what he was going to say. “And you’ll protect me from your father? If it’s necessary, that is.”
Hope giggled. “I’ll protect you.”
“Good,” he replied in a husky voice. “I’ll pick you up at 8:00 p.m.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Gideon brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “We’ll have fun.”
Her breath hitched, and she fought to push the lump in her throat down. “We will.”
“Shall we?” He inclined his head toward the diner door.
In a daze, Hope followed him back inside and slid into her booth seat. “Well,” Melanie and Robyn cried simultaneously. “What happened?”
“What happened?” Hope asked absently.
“Did he ask you to the dance?” Melanie pushed.
“Did you say yes?” Robyn followed up.
“What are you going to tell you parents?” Melanie questioned.
Hope glanced from one friend to the other. “What do you mean?”
“You know the history between your fathers,” Robyn stated. “Will there be bloodshed?”
“Bloodshed?” Hope giggled. “Aren’t you the one who said this is the twenty-first century?”
“True,” Robyn sighed. “But that had nothing to do with the possibility of a duel.”
Hope rolled her eyes. “There’s not going to be a duel. Everything will be fine.”
“Good luck with that.” Melanie smiled sympathetically. “I’m glad I’m not you.”
“Gee, thanks.” Hope glanced over her shoulder in Gideon’s direction again, and their gazes clashed. “I told him I’d protect him if I needed to.”
Robyn waggled her eyebrows. “But who’s going to protect you from Gideon?”
“Do you think I need to be protected from Gideon?” Hope murmured. “I’m not so sure.”
“I guess it depends on what you want,” Melanie replied. “What do you want?”
Once again, Hope’s gaze clashed with Gideon’s. What did she want from him? The memory of how he’d made her lips tingle when he’d looked at them had her turning back to her friends. “What do I want?”
“Yes, Hope,” Robyn nodded. “What do you want?”
“A kiss,” Hope sighed. “I just want a kiss.”
***
Fin ... at least for now.
Will she get it? Should the story be finished?
Happy 2023! May all your dreams come true.
Tagged a few people who were on the initial one.
@sailormew4 @annaamell @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @in-spirational @gillie @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch @allyourdarlingswans @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @everything-person @girl-in-a-tiny-box @resident-of-storybrooke @qualitycoffeethings @sherifffjones @countrybroadwayprincess @tiganasummertree @hufflepuffinstorybrooke @kristi555 @nikkiemms @gingerchangeling @marcella2727 @idontdothatveryoften @lady-bell
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Captain Swan Christmas Reruns presents: Over the Realms and Through the Woods, to Arendelle We Go
Written by: @snowbellewells
Recommended by: @kmomof4
Summary: Emma and Killian take their crew on a holiday road trip to visit old friends and make new Christmas memories…
What we love: Since I head canon that Emma and Elsa kept in touch with mirror magic after Elsa returned home, this fic made my heart VERY happy!!!!
read it here!
#captain swan#christmas#killian jones#emma swan#ouat#once upon a time#fic rec#cs fic rec#fanfic#csff#snowbellewells#over the realms and through the woods
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