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anmylica · 10 months

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Fly With the Black Swan

Chapter Two: The Avalanche

Tagging the Usual Crew: @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @tiganasummertree @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @whimsicallyenchantedrose @deckerstarblanche

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Their arrival in the tiny port town came late at night. After settling the matter of docking and arranging shore leave for the majority of his crew, save the skeleton shift for the night watch, Hook met with a handful of his most trusted sailors to plan for their reconnaissance trip. After staying awake for way too long that evening making plans, they agreed to set out the following morning in order to rest and gather supplies. The North Mountains were known to be cold and snowy all year long, so Hook and his crew would need to be prepared.

“Make sure that a skeleton crew mans the ship at all times,” Hook repeated to Mister Bones, the second mate, who was to stay with the ship and watch over her. He had already made sure to stress this order to the man, and Mister Bones clearly was weary of hearing Hook’s insistence, nodding his head and waving his hand in the air. Hook ignored the man’s dramatics, well used to the man’s mannerisms due to how long they had sailed together on this ship. “Arrange for shifts each day. I don’t want to come back to the Jolly Roger commandeered by someone else.”

“Aye, sir,” Mister Bones nodded exasperatedly for the upteenth time. Finally satisfied that his ship would be taken care of, Hook turned his attention to the rest of the preparations. He knew his ship would be in good hands with the second mate for all his nagging. Mister Bones had come on as a member of his crew shortly after Hook’s turn to piracy, and he had been loyal ever since. Hook spared no more thought to the matter as he made way into town to arrange for transportation of some sort and the necessary supplies.

The morning had dawned bright, a perfect cloudless day with a comfortable wind that belied the coldness that awaited them as they climbed into the mountainscape of the Diamond Peaks range. They had arranged for horses to take them through the valleys, and the band of pirates collected their mounts from the local stable, a small structure that barely had enough extra horses to lend to the men. Hook had made sure that the owner of the stables would be compensated fairly as a result.

Once they collected their mounts, they made haste for the Emerald Pine Pass, the road through the mountain range that would hopefully lead him to the next step in his revenge. The crew of six plus their captain were in good spirits, singing sea shanties and telling jokes at each other’s expense (especially Smee’s) as they started the first leg of their journey. Starkey, a tall, wiry pirate who served as Hook’s master gunner, told bawdry jokes the entire time. Black Murphy, an older man from the Tolou province of Northern Wei, joined in with Starkey, egging him on.

Damien Salt and John Turk, both from Tirulia, spent their time reminiscing about previous fights they won at taverns they had all been patrons at in the past. One Eyed Jack rode silently alongside Smee, occasionally correcting details in any of the stories told by their accompanying party members. Hook led the pack, slightly ahead of the others, but close enough to laugh and chime in with remembered details of his own. His revenge was never far from his mind, so he was more subdued than his compatriots.

Their journey through the Emerald Pine Pass was slow. Snow banks that hadn’t yet melted in the sun frequently cut off parts of the road, and so their horses had to wade through it. Because of this, they had to pause to take frequent breaks to warm the animals and make sure they were taken care of during the voyage. Other than these minor annoyances, the trip had begun without a hitch. That should have been Hook’s first clue that things were about to go awry.

Their good fortune with the balmy, mild weather didn’t hold up. As they slowly climbed in elevation, the temperature dropped. Hook began to grow more and more concerned at the weather conditions, worrying as to whether he and his men could carry on with their already slow pace. Each day brought worse and worse conditions. As the temperature dropped more and more, Hook recalled how some of the locals had spoken of the quickly changing weather and of how sudden snow storms uncommon for the warmer seasonal months could sometimes sporadically appear. He hoped this was just a fluke and the temperatures would begin to warm again, but his hope was to be vain. On the sixth day of the otherwise boring journey, a blizzard came through the area, covering everything in a blanket of snow and whiting out the pass. Hook and his crew had no choice but to hunker down and wait it out.

“A bloody menace these storms are,” Starkey complained around a feeble fire, shivering as he held a thick fur blanket around his shoulders.

“Aye, the deserts of Agrabah are a tropical paradise compared to this,” Damien Salt sneered, holding out a piece of hardtack on a long stick over the fire in an attempt to thaw it out.

“I think I’d take a typhoon,” Starkey shot back, clenching the fur blanket tighter around his wiry frame.

“At least we have shelter,” Smee said, pointing to their makeshift tent, the only thing protecting them from the worst of the elements. “And we can sing songs to pass the time.”

The group collectively groaned, for singing shanties had gotten old after the third day. John Turk and Black Murphy threw pieces of hardtack at their first mate, who crouched and flinched to try and avoid being pelted. Hook sighed but said nothing, continuing to sip from his rum flask that has refilled itself since the last time he had corked it closed. For as much as he hated most magic with a passion, he had to once again thank the gods for his foresight in having the bottle enchanted to always refill itself. He was going to need every drop being stuck here with this lot.

One Eyed Jack rolled his eyes and got up to brave the conditions to check on the horses rather than stick around for Smee’s usual false cheer. Hook ignored them all as they carried on with their antics, double-checking his calculations for how far they still had to go. He hoped the weather would move on and allow them to carry on with their journey. He sipped his flask of rum as he did so, finding that the warmth from the rum made the temperature in the tent almost pleasant.

The rest of the men eventually broke out a deck of cards and proceeded to play a few rounds of five card poker to pass the time. The storm outside grew worse and worse as the evening proceeded and night fell. They all fell into an uneasy sleep at different points in the night, save for a couple left to keep watch. By establishing shifts, they were able to keep their fire going even through the raging storm. Each one checked on the horses at the start of their watches, so there would hopefully be no problems in setting out once the storm passed.

It was just Hook’s luck that the storm lasted three long, miserable days. As petty arguments began to break out that he would have to quell, he began contemplating just how lost he could get in the melee if he left their sorry arses there. After the latest squabble between Starkey and Smee about going to fetch more firewood, Hook rolled his eyes and drank more from his flask, thankful once again that he had had it enchanted to never run out long before his sojourn to Neverland. He vowed to keep up a steady buzz so as to be able to better tune out the bickering of his crew.

The morning after the blizzard finally blew itself out dawned clear and bright, much like their first day in Sapphire Springs. The light off the snow was blinding in these early hours. Hook applied a new layer of kohl to try and help with the glare, but it did little to actually help. Smee, Starkey, Black Murphy, One Eyed Jack, Damien Salt, and John Turk all followed suit with their own kohl, grumbling and griping all the while about not having warm enough clothes and lamenting that they hadn’t stayed behind on the ship.

The group quickly broke camp after a hasty breakfast of hardtack and cured meats, not wanting to linger long in these colder conditions. The group were mostly silent as they packed their belongings into the saddlebags of their horses, tamping their feet and rubbing their hands as they blew into their cupped fists, trying to keep the cold at bay as they did so.

Black Murphy glanced around warily as he tightened the straps on his saddle. “It’s mighty warm today,” he muttered, his breath coming out in foggy clouds. “Much warmer than it was yesterday.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Damien Salt sneered. “Maybe my hands won’t fall off before I get back to the ship.”

“Your hands were already gonna fall off, Salty,” wheezed One Eyed Jack. “What with all your time in front of the forges repairing our cutlasses.”

“Aye, and if you lot would be more careful about breakin’ ‘em, I wouldn’t have to lose any appendages,” Salt laughed. “No offense, Captain,” he added with a respectful nod of his head.

Hook shrugged the comment off, much like he did the cold conditions they were in. “None taken. Are we all ready?”

A chorus of “Ayes” rang out from the others, and he mounted his horse, tugging his duster closed tight once he was settled in the saddle. “Then let’s shove off. We might not have much time before the next snow storm comes and cuts off the pass entirely.”

The others nodded and mounted their horses as well. They began riding through the snow, their horses trudging along through the thick drifts. As the morning progressed, the day grew warmer and warmer, much to the relief of the crew. They had settled into a companionable silence, speaking only briefly as they moved steadily forward. They ate more hardtack and cured meat whilst on the move around noon.

Shortly after they had finished their meal, a soft thump echoed through the mountain air. Smee looked around in concern, having been the one of the group paying the most attention to their surroundings.

“What was that?” Smee asked. The others listened, but the sound didn’t happen again.

“‘S probably your imagination,” Starkey rolled his eyes. Smee had been famous amongst the crew in Neverland for hysterics at the slightest thing gone wrong.

“I heard something,” Smee insisted. “It wasn’t my imagination.”

“Let’s see if it sounds off again,” Black Murphy sighed as he rolled his eyes, hoping the two sailors would avoid another argument.

The group fell silent again. After a moment, another soft whump sounded, this time from higher up the mountain peak they were under. The sound echoed off the sides of the surrounding mountains.

“There it is again!” Smee exclaimed. “What is making that noise?”

John Turk smirked. “Perhaps it’s your stomach.”

The sailors laughed, save for Hook, who just smiled wryly. Another well-known fact about his first mate was Smee’s propensity for constantly eating, drinking, or even just thinking about food. Smee turned red from embarrassment and didn’t respond.

No one else said anything, content to fall back into silence as they trudged forward. The whumping sounds could be heard occasionally, coming more and more frequently as they continued.

Hook glanced up at the sky. Seeing that it was getting quite late in the afternoon and they had maybe only an hour or two before sunset, he halted his horse.

“Let’s set up camp,” he ordered. “I don’t want to get to nightfall without at least a fire going.”

The pirates agreed and began the process of making camp. Smee went off to gather firewood, and wandered off aways as the rest began pitching tents and readying the ground for the fire.

Just as Smee bent over to pick up a large branch, a large cracking sound echoed off the ridge, causing the pirates to pause and look around in befuddlement. Hook surveyed the mountainside above them. He gasped when he laid eyes on what it was that had caused that sound. An avalanche was coming right towards them from the nearest mountainside.

“Run!” he bellowed, gesturing at his men to grab their horses and try to get out of the way.

Five of the pirate crew managed to react quickly and led the way, but Smee, having been the furthest away, fell behind. Hook was nearly to the tree line when he glanced back to see his first mate struggling in the snow.

He groaned and turned back. He struggled to get his horse to turn back around, but once he did, he made it over to Smee in moments. He wrapped the reins loosely around his hook and reached for Smee's hand. Smee grabbed it and Hook hoisted the man up on the horse’ back in front of him, Smee hanging on for dear life to the side of the saddle as his legs dangled awkwardly in the air.

The horse had already struggled to carry Hook through the snow, but now that it had to carry Smee and Hook, it could barely leap over the snowbanks. The horse whinnied and shrieked in fright as it struggled to maneuver through. Hook could see his men in the tree line, cursing and yelling at him to hurry up. The tree line looked to be safe from the falling snow, and Hook nudged his heels deeper into the horse’s sides, hoping against hope that they would make it.

He was forty feet away. Then thirty. Then twenty-five. He felt his horse struggle even more and begin to slow from the exertion, and he jumped off, growling in frustration. There was no way they were going to make it at this rate.

“Captain!” Smee protested but Hook waved him off.

“I’ll be fine. Go!” Hook ordered. The horse began to move faster to the tree line now that its load had been lightened, and it finally made it to the tree line to safety with Smee dangling from the saddle.

Hook was feet away from the tree line, himself, but as he surveyed the flying snow and debris, he sensed with the kind of perfect clarity that accompanied deadly experiences that he wasn’t going to make it. He ducked down into the snow, covering his head with both arms just as it piled on top of him. His crew yelled frantically as he was buried, but they couldn’t be heard over the din.

Hook felt himself get swept away. Everything was a mass of white. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know which way was up. He couldn’t stop his descent.

He smashed hard into some object buried beneath the snow, knocking what little wind he had left. His body felt as if it were on fire. Still he tumbled on. As he finally, finally ground to a halt, his last coherent thought was of how badly his right side hurt. Hook’s eyes slid closed and he knew nothing more.

After some time, Hook could feel his life slowly slipping from his grasp as he came around back to consciousness. His body hurt everywhere, though the feeling was growing weaker every moment he lay there on the snow and debris. Dazed, his vision blurry, he tried to survey his surroundings. The last thing he recalled was the sight of his crew looking on in helpless terror as the snow overtook him, burying him under the mountain of snow and debris in the avalanche as it swept him away. He had knocked into something hard, and he knew instinctively that it had damaged something inside.

He didn’t have long left.

He squinted his eyes against the brightness of the snow that still surrounded him. The snow was dislodged all around him, rocks and pieces of trees scattered throughout the white from where they had been swept away along with him. He had somehow managed to come to a stop at the surface of the snow, which was lucky even if he were dying. Finally his eyes alighted on a lone dark object in the blinding whiteness of his surroundings. He focused through the dizziness on the figure, his heart seeming to come to a stop when his vision finally focused.

It was a woman, with blonde hair as fair as any in Arendelle that he had seen and eyes as green as the evergreen trees around them. Her lips were the color of blood and her eyes were rimmed in an interesting style of kohl that Hook had never before seen, even considering all of his travels throughout the centuries. Her hair looked fluffy, like the down of a newly hatched chick, and she was dressed all in black. Her legs were encased in the tightest black leather pants he had ever seen on a woman, tighter than even Milah had worn hers. Her black leather jacket looked like it had been taken from the skin of a snake, and it was closed tightly over her form. She wore black knee-high heeled boots.

These details were observed, filed away, and dismissed in a heartbeat. It was her skin that gave away who she was.

Her skin, though deathly pale, was covered in white, glittery scales. Hook had seen only one other person with scaly skin like this in his long life.

This woman was the newest Dark One.

He watched as the woman blinked and then approached him. She knelt down to his left, surveying him critically.

“You don’t have much time,” she said, her voice a husky drawl. “You’ll die soon if something isn’t done to prevent it.”

Hook blinked. He grunted, but didn’t actually respond like he wanted to. The pain surged through him, robbing him of his voice.

“I can save you with a flick of my wrist,” she said mildly, carrying on as if he hadn’t tried to speak. “It’s very easy magic, healing internal damage. But it comes at a price.”

Hook eyed her with alarm. He sneered, gathering his breath for one response, whispered and barely overheard through the whipping wind around them: “I’ll not pay any price for your evil.”

She raised her brows in mild surprise but otherwise gave no other reaction. She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “The price is 15 years of servitude. No more; no less.”

Hook sneered, whispering, “I’d die before I become a Dark One’s plaything.” His efforts ended in a hacking cough, spitting out blood into the pure fallen snow.

The woman hummed. “It’s up to you. You obviously were in pursuit of something coming into these inhospitable mountains, but I’m sure your pride is worth giving up on that business of yours. You can die knowing that you failed in obtaining whatever it was you sought.”

She stood silently and turned to walk away, picking her way gracefully through the detritus around them. As he watched her perfectly postured form go, Hook thought about all that he had wanted, and all that he had gone through to get his revenge. He remembered how it had felt to hold Milah in his arms one last time as she lay there on the deck of his ship, panting and moaning from the pain of having her heart slowly crushed to dust. He recalled watching the dust blow into the wind along with all of his dreams and plans for the future. He remembered the high pitched gleeful giggle of Rumplestiltskin’s as the demon murdered his estranged wife and mother of his child in cold blood. He thought of the wracking pain his heart had felt as it shattered beyond repair. The pain of losing his hand was nothing compared to the emotional upheaval her loss had caused. Finally, he thought of leaving the demon itself in this world, of not making it pay for preying upon people and twisting them to its sick desires, and he shuddered out of disgust. He could not let his life’s purpose go unmet. Not now. Not when the creature responsible for every torment he had felt these last centuries was standing mere feet from him at last.

He closed his eyes in despair for the choice he was about to make. He had sworn once he had clawed his way out of indentured servitude that he would never be enslaved to another’s bidding again. He had had to agree to similar terms as these during his long stint in Neverland, playing the errand boy to Pan’s machinations, and he had sworn again, No more. Hook desperately tried to recall Milah’s bright smile, faded from his memory due to the passage of time, and of her gray eyes as they looked on at him in pain and heartbreak. He couldn’t let his revenge go, not at the cost of his own life. Not if the price was another stint of servitude alongside the demon that caused all his pain.

“Wait,” he grunted, closing his eyes against his decision.

The Dark One stopped and turned back. She walked back to his side and knelt by him again. “Have you changed your mind?”

Hook closed his eyes, fighting for coherence through his injuries. “I agree to ten years of service.” He was panting harder and harder, the breath he needed to speak growing harder to muster. If he couldn’t accomplish his goal in another ten years, it would be worth suffering this new Dark One’s wrath as he met his end at her hand. Either he would have his revenge or he would be united at last with his beloved. Ten years would have to be worth it all.

The Dark One considered him. She nodded once and waved her hand over his form. Golden light flowed from her hand and into his body. He felt his body heal, the cuts and lacerations closing up, the broken bones forging new ties, the bleeding and bruising stopping and reversing. He began to breathe easier, taking deeper breaths each time, and finally, he was healed.

He raised up into a half sitting position, surveying his body with awed interest, when he noticed a black band around his wrist just below the edges of his tattoo.

“The band represents your agreement to provide services to me. It is magically binding, breakable only by my magic or your completed time. You will not be able to remove it in any way. Once your ten years are up, it will disappear.”

He looked up at the Dark One in shock and fear. She had already turned her back on him.

“My pet will be along momentarily to bring you to my residence. Don’t try to run; it will only make things worse for you if you do.” She stepped forward and disappeared in a cloud of gray-white smoke.

Hook looked wildly around him. He was alone on the mountainside, the sun quickly setting below the horizon. Even if he could run, he had no way of knowing which way to go. His crew were nowhere to be seen, and the mountain was silent. He started shivering and tugged his leather duster closer to him, cursing his ability to now feel the cold he hadn’t felt while he had been dying.

He didn’t have long to wait before this supposed “pet” came along. A rush of wings sounded from overheard, and he looked up, gasping when he realized what it was.

A giant black swan slowly descended from the air, just a ways down the mountain from him. He gaped at it as it landed and tucked its wings against its body. It stared at him with a familiar green gaze, though he couldn’t place why the eyes looked familiar. He slowly stood from his stooped position.

The bird had to be at least as tall as a house and as wide as a small barn. He eyed its beak warily, but it seemed to want to do nothing but blink at him.

“Are- are you here to bring me to the tower?” he asked with uncertainty. The black swan nodded once.

“Am I meant to walk with you?”

The black swan shook its head.

Hook frowned. “Then how are we meant to go there?”

The black swan lowered its head to the snow and unfolded a wing, dipping it to the snow as well in a strange sort of bow. Hook blinked.

“…You want me to ride on your back?” he asked slowly.

The swan looked up at him, its green eyes blinking, and nodded once.

He sighed in uncertainty and looked at the swan’s back. He wasn’t sure how to mount the animal without injuring it with his hook. He found that, though he loathed the thought of being the Dark One’s servant, he did not want to hurt this beautiful pet of hers. It seemed so innocent.

He stepped up to its side and stroked the feathers along its neck. “I apologize if I hurt you,” he murmured before taking hold of a bunch of feathers and hoisting himself up.

He somehow managed to get settled on the bird’s back without pulling any feathers out, but it had been an awkward mounting. He swayed unsteadily as it raised its head, grabbing on with his right hand firmly to keep from falling off. Hook had just managed to secure his grip on the feathers when the bird unfurled its wings and flapped them hard, launching them both into the air.

Hook grabbed the bird’s neck out of an instinctual fear, closing his eyes against the wind and the rapidly receding ground below. He sat paralyzed, afraid to move an inch lest it dislodge his hold on the feathers in his hand. He had never wished more for the return of his left hand than he had in that moment. After a few minutes, once the ascent had steadied, he slowly opened his eyes. He raised his head up slightly and looked around.

The sight was beautiful, Hook had to admit. Though he had always preferred the sea, there was something majestic about these mountains. The sun’s rays hit the peaks just right, singing a melody of sight. He smiled slightly at the view.

After an indeterminate amount of time, the swan began its descent. He leaned as far over as he dared, desperate to see what their destination was. Growing ever closer was a tall tower resting in a valley, completely surrounded by mountains on all sides.

‘How perfect,’ Hook thought. ‘A prison surrounded by land.’

The tower extended quite high into the sky; it had to be at least seven or eight stories. The landscape around it was littered with trees and bushes and flowers of all colors. The tower’s edifice was cheery looking, casting a reflection on to the lake beside it in the now dimming light of evening. It was a stark contrast to the imposing figure that Rumplestiltskin’s castle cut in the countryside of the kingdom in which he had chosen to live after losing his son to his cowardice.

The brick was a smattering of pink and red and white, and windows dotted the sides in levels. The roofline was pointed, the shingles were a pretty cerulean blue, and a Germonian flag flew at the top of a spire. Hook wondered at the flag and why the new Dark One would live in a tower that sported the Germonian flag. He stared at the yellow buttercup on the crimson background for a moment longer before turning his attention to the rest of the valley.

He must have been a thousand feet above the ground, far higher than he had ever been before, even when his ship had the Pegasus sail as they flew to Neverland. A quick survey of the mountains showed no way out, save the aerial kind. Hook frowned. He knew there had to be some way out of this valley; it was simply a question of finding it. He noticed a stream that flowed through the grounds and into the lake just a ways down the shore from the tower, and Hook wondered whether the stream possibly held a way out.

The black swan dove down sharply, startling him from his thoughts. It glided down, down, until it landed on the ground. He clambered gracelessly off its back, falling to his knees once he was back on the ground. The black swan spread its wings and took back off to the air, flying beyond the mountains until he couldn’t see it any more. He turned back to the tower and contemplated the lone door that led into the structure. Before he could take a step towards it, he fell to the ground hard and passed out. He never noticed the Dark One standing behind him with her hands raised, the remnants of a sleeping powder made from poppies blowing in the wind from where she had blown it out of her hands and onto the pirate captain.

The Dark One stood over him, surveying him with curious eyes in the dimming light, before smiling softly. With a casual wave of her hand, the door of the tower shimmered with the release of a ward that served to keep anyone out of her home away from home. She gave one last lingering look to the pirate captain before going inside, waving her hand once more to send his sleeping form to a guest bedchamber that had never before been used. When she stepped onto the threshold, she closed the door, grinning widely at her new fortune.

Somewhere deep inside, the Darkness gave a heaving shudder at this new turn of events.

#once upon a time #ouat #cs ff #cs supernatural summer #Fly With The Black Swan #anmylica writes #captain hook #emma swan #captain swan #killian jones #art by zaharadessert #captain swan fanfic

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laianely · 2 months

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Never too sweet

Tag people who may be interested: @killianxswan @teamhook @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @caught-in-the-filter @tiganasummertree @stahlords @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jrob64 @beckettj @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @zaharadessert @bluewildcatfanatic @once-upon-a-happy-end @ultraluckycatnd

#killian jones #captain hook #colin o'donoghue #once upon a time #ouat #once upon a time edit #ouat edit #laianely's edits

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hollyethecurious · 5 months

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Curious Crew Tag List Reset

Hello fellow crewmates! I know you didn't hear much from me in 2023, but I am hoping to turn that around in 2024. As such, it is time for me to do a reset of my Curious Crew tag list.

I like to reset my list each year, starting from scratch so those who no longer wish to be on my tag list can simply move on. Of course, anyone can ask to be added or removed at any time throughout the year, but I find doing a reset helps to release people guilt-free, ensuring I'm not annoying them with fic notifications they no longer with to receive.

SO... Who wants to be a part of me crew in 2024?

If you would like to continue receiving notifications when I post/update my works, then please either reply here in the comments or shoot me an Ask.

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.

@paradiselady19 @aprilqueen84 @kmomof4 @mie779 @donteattheappleshook @stahlop @anmylica @undercaffinatednightmare @zaharadessert @karl0ta @booksteaandtoomuchtv @courtorderedcake @superchocovian @pirateherokillian @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615 @the-darkdragonfly @jonesfandomfanatic @wyntereyez @xarandomdreamx @teamhook @winterbaby89 @justanother-unluckysoul @whimsicallyenchantedrose @badwolfreturns @deckerstarblanche @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @resident-of-storybrooke @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda @youherotype @kday426 @snowbellewells @alexa-fangirl-forever @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @unworried-corsair @sals86 @natascha-ronin @livykatelin00-blog @jackieorioncat @annep1 @ilovemesomekillianjones @soniccat @youplaylikeagirl @th3capta1n @cocohook38 @zippoluv @bizquake

#curious crew #tag list #all aboard

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jrob64 · 3 months

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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

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

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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undercaffinatednightmare · 1 month

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@captainswanwipwednesdays

The fic that’s haunted me longest

Death on the Nile

“Emma, this must stop.” Killian snapped when he found her on the observation deck.

“What must?” She returned his anger. The few passengers and crew on the deck with them scurried away to avoid being caught in the middle.

“This childish game of yours. I married Eloise. You need to come to terms with that.” He told her.

Emma shook her long blonde hair in the night breeze. “It isn’t my fault you’re following the itinerary for our honeymoon. I don’t see why I shouldn’t enjoy it. After all, I paid for it.”

Killian stepped forward and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Gods, Swan. You’re a vision tonight.” He murmured.

“We can’t.” She whispered as her head fell back against his chest. “You know we can’t.”

“Soon.” He pressed a whisper to her bared shoulder.

“Soon.” She promised.

~~~~~~~~~

Tag!

@jrob64 @resident-of-storybrooke @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @beckettj @zaharadessert @winterbaby89 @earanemith @everything-person @elizabeethan @elfiola @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @tiganasummertree @teamhook @caught-in-the-filter @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @kmomof4 @laianely @stahlop @gingerchangeling @hollyethecurious @exhaustedpirate @ultraluckycatnd @xarandomdreamx @belovedcreation @shady-swan-jones @ohmakemeahercules @bdevereaux-blanche @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @poptart-cat-78 @snowbellewells

#undercaffinatednightmare fics #captain swan #cs writing challenge #let’s get kraken #the great detective #cs wip wed #cs death on the nile #captainswanwipwednesdays

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booksteaandtoomuchtv · 18 days

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Witchy Woman (10/10)

0.5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

LOOK AT THIS STUNNING ARTWORK BY @cocohook38

Summary: When Emma came into her position as Storybrooke Coven Leader, she ended things with the powerful Vampire Overlord, Killian Jones. She’s spent over a decade working alongside him and ignoring the growing tension between them.

During his best mate’s wedding, Killian decides he is done waiting. He is ready to have his mate back in his arms (and bed) again. Emma is not an easy woman to woo, but Killian has never backed down from a challenge.

When Emma’s jilted ex-boyfriend returns to town and Emma goes missing, Killian will stop at nothing to get her back and ensure that nothing can ever separate them again.

Rating: E

CW: Mention of domestic abuse, blood and blood drinking (vampires), threatening situations, minor violence, death, mention of parental death

Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)

Tag: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert (let me know if you want to be added or dropped)

Author Note:

I confess that I struggled with this chapter far, far more than I could have predicted. Some of it was stress-induced writer's block that has started to clear as we approach the final stages of this move. Some of it was the fear of ending this in a way that leaves you disappointed.

I have pages and pages of struck material as I debated what to do with this chapter. With the conflict resolved and most of the questions of who, how, and what answered, I wrestled with what ending would make this story feel complete.

After months of writing, rewriting, stalling, scowling, and saying "I need to write this one chapter for my supernatural summer fic this weekend", I humbly set this before you and hope that it was worth the wait.

I cannot thank the CSMM Discord server enough for the encouragement and unfailing support in getting any writing done, but especially for the love and check-ins surrounding this fic. Thank you so, so much.

Finally, extra love to Marta and Krystal for having a sixth sense for when I was writing again. Your notes, check-ins, cheering, listening to my life drama, prayers, and such have meant more to me than you could ever know.

Enjoy! ---- ---- ---- ----

Sometime later...

Killian had never known nerves as he did now. He could feel his hold on his magic slipping as his emotions threatened to get the better of him as though he were a child again - rather than a mature vampire with centuries of experience successfully regulating his emotions and controlling his magic. Not knowing what to do with this abundance of jittery energy, Killian paced around the beautiful, blooming red Middlemist flowers.

When he pictured this scene in his mind, he thought the flowers would set a romantic scene. They were a favourite of Emma’s and with Ruby’s affinity for earth magic, they’d made a beautiful field of flowers where Regina’s corrupted magic had once left nothing but rot. Now, he wondered if the red was more reminiscent of blood than passion. Maybe the location of that horrible event in their past should not have been revisited for this particular moment.

He could hear her careful footsteps entering the forest, her steady heartbeat calling to him and calming him all at once. He reached into his pocket - just making sure - and waited for her to arrive at the clearing.

“Killian,” she called before he could see her, a smile clear in her voice. “You do know…” But whatever she intended to say next failed her as she stepped into sight. "Oh," Emma breathed out. Her eyes were wide as she scanned the flowers now overflowing the grove.

“I, erm,” Killian’s voice cracked. “You came into my life and filled the bleakest parts of it, of me, with hope, so I wanted to do the same for you.”

“This is beautiful. Thank you.”

Killian knelt before her and held the intricate ring between them, the sapphire and diamonds glittering in the sunlight. He smiled up at her, the shimmer of tears present in her eyes, and - instantly - all the words he rehearsed for weeks escaped him. “Please, will you share the rest of your life with me?”

Sometime a bit later...

At some point, when Emma was not paying attention, Killian had become essential. It wasn't that she needed him to survive, that fear that had kept her from giving herself over to the pull of their connection when they were younger. Rather, with him, her life was simply better.

Looking back on it, she realised this was a truth that she had always known - when they spent all those years apart, they still worked together and were friendly. Even with solid walls protecting her heart, she could not deny they made a good team. Now those walls were a distant memory. Now her heart beat in time with his, a ribbon of magic between them confirming the pull she had always felt toward him had always been more than a passing attraction. Killian had once told her they were mates. Mary Margaret had said they shared True Love and that was a powerful, but rather mysterious, magic. Emma thought of it more as two wandering, lost souls finding a home, a sanctuary, in one another.

Coming home to Killian every night had been a bit of an adjustment. Emma spent her life solving problems for other people, but she often buried her thoughts or issues away. Killian gave her space to exist without and room to…feel. At first, she would apologise for spilling out all her problems or being so needy. He’d pull her into him, ask her about her troubles and validate her feelings until her guilt faded away and just peace remained. Overtime, she realised that this was something she should have always had - space and time to be more than someone else’s problem solver.

A sharp jab beneath her ribs interrupted her musings. She rubbed her hand against the round protrusion now visible on one side of her hugely pregnant belly. Mary Margaret assured her that her baby bump was perfectly normal, but Emma worried she would never see the stairs below her or be able to pick up something she'd dropped, again. A part of Emma wondered if her little one was maybe too comfortable and would just keep growing and growing... Elsa assured her that her healthy baby boy would be here very soon. Emma had been so thrilled to tell Killian they were having a boy that she forgot to ask Elsa to define “soon.”

The tiny foot pushed into her palm. Unlike the previous movement, this was a gentle pressure against her hand. As ready as she was to meet her little one, she knew she’d miss having him to herself like this. She knew he was a creature of habit; she could tell the time down to the second based on his movements. About five minutes before her usual lunch break, he would be active except on Wednesdays. He didn’t move much on Wednesdays, probably busy growing and such. After dinner, he got the hiccups. He always played back when she pressed her hand against him. It was strange how much she felt she knew this little creature despite having never seen his face or heard his voice.

"Your smile could ignite wars," Killian said as he crossed to her. He kissed her cheek, "inspire masterpieces." He kissed her other cheek, "and revive the blackest of hearts." He met her lips with a sweet kiss, his hand cradling her jaw and his eyes closed as he savoured the kiss as though it were water and he a man lost in the desert. No matter how often they kissed or how chaste the kiss, Killian savoured them all in this way - as though he had been dying and she had given him the air he needed to survive.

Despite the flush his flowery words brought to her cheeks, she rolled her eyes at him. She wrapped her hand around his and took a small step back, pressing his hand to her pregnant belly where the foot had been moments before. "He's up."

"Hey, lad." At the gentleness and awe wrapped around those words, Emma's heart threatened to burst. She thought she could not love this vampire more, but still, more depth remained. Sometimes, she wasn't sure her heart could hold it all.

A series of kicks met his words and touch. Killian's answering smile made her eyes burn with tears - the moment too perfect, too...everything...for her to process.

"I love you," she said wishing there was another word or phrase to relay the emotions rolling through her in this moment. It was love, sure. But, it felt like so much more. It was bigger, endless and boundless, eternal and ancient. She felt a sudden warmth wrapping around her and flowing through her, Killian's emotions meeting hers and holding them together through that strange bond they shared.

Even more time later...

Emma’s head rested heavily on his chest. Killian ran his fingers through her hair, gently taming the wild locks that had reached out to tickle his chin. He listened to her heart and breathing as she slept. Despite the soothing sound of her steady heartbeat and the softness of her features as she dreamed, he felt the chill of fear creeping up his spine.

She will wake with the sun. He held firm to that thought; it was his anchor through this particular storm.

Years may have passed, but the dread he’d felt that long week, as he waited for her to wake, refused to dampen or fade. Rather, it wrapped around his heart and stole quiet moments like this one from him.

He recalled the evening before in as much detail as he could pry from his memory. The long relieved sigh that had escaped from Emma as she sank into her side of the bed, the soft sound of her voice carrying from Liam’s room as she read last night’s chapter to him and his sister as they drifted off to sleep, her green eyes sparkling with humour when Hope transformed her lamb stew into cereal when Killian refused to give into the toddler’s demand, the comfortable - almost routine - kiss she gave him when she arrived home. Hundreds of similar moments came together to paint the full picture of their life together. Recalling them had loosened the tightness in his chest until he was able to watch his wife as she slept without wondering if she would find his way back to him when morning came.

She rolled off him, taking the covers with her. Rest would be even more elusive than usual this evening. Killian considered slipping out of bed for a late-night drink, but the chill of fear threatened to return. The warmth of Emma’s back pressed against his arm kept him grounded - leaving was not an option tonight. With a sigh, Killian picked a book up from his bedside table and settled in to pass the night.

A few chapters later, a solid thud from Liam’s room pulled him back out of the story. The soft sound of blankets rustling followed shortly after, his only warning, before the air shimmered and deposited his youngest in his bed. Hope’s small toes were already digging into his side like tiny daggers as she wiggled and snuggled in what little space existed between him and his wife. He wrapped an arm around the little intruder and tucked her close to his chest, hoping not to disturb his wife. Hope turned into him- her head tucked comfortably (for her) in the crook of his arm and her eyes already closed. A soft sound between a coo and a sigh escaped from the intruder - somehow she was asleep once more. Killian watched her in wonder.

“You two are heartbreakingly beautiful together. It’s almost unfair,” Emma teased, her voice a gentle whisper in the night.

“Amazing how they fall asleep so quickly when they crawl in here at night given the battle they wage at bedtime. I am sorry we woke you, love.” He leaned toward her to press a kiss into her temple. But, pinned down as he was beneath the sleeping tot, he could not quite reach. He frowned dramatically at her - take pity on a poor vampire?

With the slightest eye roll, Emma relented and brushed the softest kiss on his cheek. When she pulled back and made to lie back down, his frown deepened into a full pout. A slight curve to her lips was all the warning he got before she leaned forward once more and nipped his bottom lip. She soothed the sting of her teeth with a few deep kisses before breaking their contact with a very self-satisfied smile.

Killian ran his tongue over his lips to capture the warmth lingering from her kisses. Her loving teasing had melted away the last of his earlier anxieties. She slipped from the bed, his shirt falling to her thighs, and disappeared down the hallway. He smiled at her disappearing form and, content with his daughter in his arms and a lightness in his heart, drifted off to sleep.

Much later…

It was Sunday, so the delicious rich scent of a roast permeated through the house. He found Emma in the kitchen with flour covering her arms and the tip of her nose as she formed a pie crust. It would be spiced apple pie since that was Artie's favourite and Emma doted upon the child. Killian was also known to spoil the young boy, but who could blame them?

Killian was fairly certain that Hope’s little boy was the most perfect creature ever to have been formed, so they took every opportunity to shower Artie with all the adoration and love they could.

Being a parent had been a journey - sometimes rewarding and sometimes endlessly frustrating. Being a grandparent, however, was an absolute delight. Not only did he get to watch his strong-willed, independent daughter grow into a compassionate and endlessly patient mother, but he also got to soak up the phases of Artie's childhood in a way he hadn't as a parent. Rather than anticipating the next developmental milestone, worrying over the best school decision, or trying to figure out the best strategy to parent finding his child on the top of the kitchen cabinets at four in the morning, he found his role as a grandparent allowed him to be able to just play again.

“Are you revealing your secret project today?”

“I believe it is ready.” Killian looked out of the window overlooking the play set he had been designing and building over the last few weeks. Since Artie was over a few times a week, hiding the mammoth from the little pup had been quite a challenge, but Killian had somehow managed.

“The pirate ship theme is a nice touch. Artie loves your high seas tales, even as unbelievable as many of them had become…” Emma said as she smiled up at him. The sight stole his breath, as it had the first time she turned the full force of her unfiltered smile on him. Would there ever be a time where this woman would fail to affect him so deeply?

“Are you accusing me of embellishing my stories?” Killian asked with mock offence.

“It has been a few hundred years. You cannot be blamed for misremembering a few details.”

“I have fabricated no details of my experiences.”

Emma cocked in eyebrow - or tried to, Killian was still the most skilled that that trick - in disbelief. “The kraken, Killian?”

“Every word of it is true.”

“Oh, yes. The kraken saw into your soul and deemed you a kindred soul and so joined your fight against the Royal Navy.” Killian’s ears turned a pink, even as he confirmed that, that was the truth of it. “It had nothing to do with your crew sneaking the fish you were feeding the monster for over a month onto their ships the night before the battle.”

“Aye...well, that might’ve played a small part,” Killian admitted sheepishly.

“Mmhmm,” Emma agreed. She was pouring the filling into the crust - cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar warmed the air around them.

Home. Both the feeling and the word filled him at present. He’d always pictured it as a building, a physical safe harbour to weather one’s life. But after decades spent with Emma, he knew it could be found in a relationship, in another person, and in the life that you create with them.

“PAPA!” The shout was the only warning he had before his grandson launched at him, propelling them down to the floor in a heap of giggles. Today, their home would be filled with the family they created and there was nothing more Killian dared to want.

Much, much later…

The legend that soul mate lifespans were entwined was proven true as decades of life faded into centuries. They shared joys beyond what either of them had dared dream. They weathered storms together, learning to turn in toward one another when they needed strength or a haven in which to be vulnerable. And through it all, they held fast to one another, secure in the love they shared and the partner with whom they shared it.

In other words, they truly lived happily ever after.

Notes:

Oh, I hope you enjoyed this. I have been really anxious about hot to end this work and I really, really hope that you enjoyed the glimpses of their ever after. I look forward to hearing from you... even if I've let you down a bit. (If so, I am very sorry. I cannot emphasise just how many rewrites and attempts I made at this - and this is the one that felt the most right to me. I would ABSOLUTE understand if it doesn't feel as such to you.)

#captain swan #once upon a time #killian jones #captain hook #killian x emma #cs fanfic #cssns23 #emma swan #ouat #cs ff #the most delayed chapter that has ever lived?

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cs-c-ocktoberfest2023 · 9 months

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CS(C)ocktoberfest2023: Mini-event

Art by @iverna

CS(C)ocktoberfest2023: Mini-event The one time size doesn't matter

Hello all!!! So here we go again. Years back there was an event called Cocktoberfest led by the lovely @initiala and with her blessing I come to offer this one. A smaller version and I hope it's enjoyable.

To check out the original click on the link.

I'm hoping for at least one item per day. Art, fic or any submission is welcomed.

More info to follow :)

tagging:

@allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @andiirivera @anothersworld @apiratewhopines @artistic-writer @batana54 @beckettj @bethacaciakay @brooke-to-broch @captainodonoghue @carpedzem @chasedancer17 @cocohook38 @courtorderedcake @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @demisexualemmaswan @djlbg @donteattheappleshook @dovelyheart @elizabeethan @gingerchangeling @gingerpoliglot @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @hookedonaswanprincess @hookedonhiddles @ilovemesomekillianjones @imlaxdris71 @itsfabianadocarmo @jarienn972 @jennjenn615 @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @k-leemac @karlyfr13s @kday426 @killian-will-do @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @kwistowee @kymbersmith-90 @laschatzi @lassluna @let-it-raines @lfh1226-linda @lonelyspectator12 @mariakov81 @motherkatereloyshipper @officerrogers @ohmakemeahercules @onceratheart18 @pirateherokillian @purplehawkcaptain @resident-of-storybrooke @revanmeetra87 @sailtoafarawayland @sals86 @scribomaniac @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @shardminds @shireness-says @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @spacekrulesbians @spartanguard @stahlop @superchocovian @swanslieutenant @tehgreeneyes @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @thepirateandhisson @therealstartraveller776 @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @tiganasummertree @tomeandflickcorner @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @wellhellotragic @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @iverna @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @zaharadessert @myfearless-love @grimmswan @fleurdepetite @hookmecaptain @once-upon-a-pirate-ship @undercaffinatednightmare @4getfulimaginator2022 @nachocheese-itsmycheese @booksteaandtoomuchtv @OUATadmire @lifeinahole27

#captain swan #cscf23

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cssns · 9 months

Text

WOW!!!!!! Can you believe it? We're done and it's time for the CSSNS23 Roundup!!!

Before we get started, I need to recognize and thank my team of mods, @winterbaby89 @jrob64 @stahlop and @ultraluckycatnd, without whom this event wouldn't have happened this summer! Please join me in giving them all the long distance internet group hugs!!!!

And NOWWWWWWWW... Here we GOOOOO!!!!! Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

@hufflepuffinstorybrooke opened us up this year on July 1 with a wonderful soulmates OS called If You're Lucky, Love Leaves Scars, that I was privileged to make artwork for. The fic left me in tears and melting at the same time!

On July 3, @teamhook posted the first chapter of her fic The Last Witch Hunter, inspired by the Vin Diesel movie of the same name. Only one ch so far, but I'm absolutely captivated and eagerly awaiting more! Very intriguing artwork by herself.

@spartanguard dropped her Killian's evil twin MC on July 5, Sons of Love and Death, with artwork by herself. That artwork, of two incredibly handsome guys shouldn't be as chilling as it is, but IT IS... The fic is completely written and she's been updating weekly, so we're on ch9 of 13. Just sayin, but I'm about ready to use a certain dagger on a certain evil twin.

July 7 @goforlaunchcee posted Smoke and Mirrors, a HOOT of a ghost story, with such lovely artwork by @piinfeathers that perfectly captures CS in this fic. Three chapters are up so far, and I can't wait for more!!!

July 10, @killiansprincss posted her OS A Court of Vines and Shadow inspired by A Court of Thorns and Roses, with absolutely gorgeous artwork by @hollyethecurious. I was not familiar with the source material, so I was completely surprised and delighted with this fic!!!

@athenascarlet posted her merman Killian OS on July 13, The Merman with a wonderful visual on Tumblr 😏 Just a regular night between a sheriff and her merman pirate... Would love to see more of this, but it's staying a OS... for now, she says...

Also on July 13, @anmylica posted the first chapter of Fly With the Black Swan with amazing artwork by @zaharadessert. We have two chs of ten up so far, and I'm sitting on pins and needles waiting for more!!!!

On July 15, @whatevenisthisbloganymore posted the first chapter of Forest View Apartments, a ghost story that has the questions swirling through my mind and eagerly awaiting the next installment! Amazing artwork by @undercaffinatednightmare!

Speaking of @undercaffinatednightmare, real life has been very rude lately and has left her unable to post her two planned fics for this summer, but she has managed to make the artwork for them both that you can find here and here! I love her writing so much and I know whenever RL lets up, both these fics are going to be wonderful!!! *EDITED* The first of her fics, A Charming Curse, has now posted and it promises to be FUN!!!

July 19, @deckerstarblanche posted An Offer She Can't Refuse, with more lovely artwork by @undercaffinatednightmare. Emily only planned two chs for this very hot and sexy Omegaverse fic, but she took it in a very angsty direction in the final scene of ch2, and so has now promised that she'll come back and add one more ch to give us all the happy ending we deserve!

July 22, @zaharadessert posted a very hot demon Killian OS, Sacrificial Lamb that made bloodthirsty Krystal VERY happy. I was once again privileged to make artwork for the fic, with an assist by @motherkatereloyshipper who was responsible for the Emma edit I used.

July 23, @mie779 posted the first chapter of Finding Caldera: The Hidden World of Dragons, with just lovely artwork by @undercaffinatednightmare. The adventure of this fic is just wonderful! We're on ch9 and nearing the end!

On July 25, it was my turn to post for the event! Into the Light was inspired by the 1987 movie The Lost Boys, my very first introduction to vampires and it has never left me! Incredible artwork was created by @motherkatereloyshipper that still just leaves me staring at it slack jawed!

@hollyethecurious posted the first chapter of The Law of Surprise on July 28. Now complete in three parts, this beautiful BEAUTIFUL but also heartbreaking fic was inspired by the law of surprise from The Witcher. Breathtaking artwork was provided by @eastwesthomeisbest and can be found here, here, and here.

@xarandomdreamx posted her CS Practical Magic AU A Crystalline Knowledge of Love and Magic on July 30. Beautiful artwork by @hollyethecurious. Only one chapter so far and my heart is so broken for Emma and Elsa but also completely in love with the story!!!!

Rounding out July, @caught-in-the-filter posted original artwork featuring ghost Emma and vampire Killian that was absolutely CHILLING!!!!

@snowbellewells started Aug off on the 2nd with an incredible one shot, Deluge! Gorgeous artwork by @eastwesthomeisbest. I am so hopeful that Marta will eventually write more of this wonderfully intriguing fic!!!

Then, @eastwesthomeisbest was so inspired by Marta's fic, she made her own original art in the same vein as the art she made for the fic. Absolutely breathtaking!!!

On Aug 8, @booksteaandtoomuchtv posted the Prologue and ch1 of Witchy Woman. I have sooooo been waiting for this fic and so far, four chs in, it is hitting ALL my buttons! Artwork coming soon from @cocohook38.

On Aug 10, @cs-rylie posted The Journal, a seriously SCARY fic, only 3 chs in, inspired by Native American legend. Artwork by me, again with a much needed assist from @motherkatereloyshipper who was responsible for Milah and the journal itself.

@iamstartraveller776 posted her new fic, To Cleave Destiny on Aug 13. Featuring Demon Killian, just this Prologue has me on the edge of my seat!!! Artwork coming soon from @cocohook38.

@exhaustedpirate posted Parent for Hire on Aug 14. A Mandalorian inspired fic, Caro has melted my Captain Cobra heart so many times already, only four chs in. She also did moodboards to accompany each ch that you can find on each of the Tumblr ch posts x x x and I was also privileged to make a banner for the fic.

On Aug 16, @grimmswan posted the first chs of TWO fabulous fics!!! Dracula in Storybrooke comes from the woefully underutilized Land of Untold Stories arc, and Love Bites (But So Do I) is a supernatural adventure of vampire Emma and werewolf Killian. Artwork coming soon from @cocohook38.

On Aug 18, @snowbellewells posted her second fic of the event, Carolina Moon. A fic inspired by the Nora Roberts novel of the same name, my heart is already, only two chs in, broken for Emma and on the edge of my seat waiting for more! Beautiful artwork again done by @eastwesthomeisbest!

@jrob64 posted Saying Goodbye and Moving On on Aug 20, a DESPERATELY NEEDED and ABSOLUTELY PERFECT fix-it fic from the Underworld arc. I was again privileged to make artwork for it, and I'm just gonna have to accept that I almost can't make picsets anymore without the aid of @motherkatereloyshipper. For this one, she was again responsible for ghost Milah.

Aug 22, @padfootprongslet posted the Prologue for Like Our Love (Falling Down and Over Again). A Mr. and Mrs. Smith inspired fic, my heart was absolutely SHATTERED in this first ch and I can't wait for more! I was again privileged to make a picset for this with @motherkatereloyshipper coming in the clutch entwining the rings.

On Aug 24, @jonesfandomfanatic posted Stolen From Time. Now complete in three parts, this fic was absolutely BRILLIANT!!! @motherkatereloyshipper made a beautiful video to accompany it.

Our final fic by @wyntereyez will post in the next few days. She’s dealing with a hurricane at the moment, so she’s excused! Artwork by spartanguard. Can't wait! *EDITED* the fic and art are both now posted!!! I melted at Kait’s artwork, and I cackled and melted repeatedly reading the fic!!!! AND I am BEYOND EXCITED that Jamie has more to come in this universe, because I NEEEEEEEEEEEED it!!!!!

That's it everyone! Please enjoy all these FABULOUS fics and artworks and be sure to give the authors and artists all the love they deserve!!!

#cssns23 roundup #cssns23 #roundup #event roundup

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zaharadessert · 11 months

Text

Sacrificial Lamb

for CSSNS 2023

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: cultism, demons, kidnapping

Length: ~6k

Summary: Princess Emma of Misthaven's coming out ball does not go as expected

Notes: Thank you so much to @kmomof4 for both betaing and making me art! It's awesome! Also thank you to the @cssns mods for running this event again.

Tagging: @kmomof4 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @jonesfandonfanatic @undercaffinatednightmare @anmylica @elfiola @booksteaandtoomuchtv @tiganasummertree @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @myfearless-love @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart

Also on AO3

- - - - -

Emma’s head felt foggy, and she was shivering with cold.

As she opened her eyes, they struggled to comprehend the space through the darkness around her.

She felt weak, as though she wasn’t in control of her own body, but she tried to sit up. The harsh wooden bench beneath her dug into her hips and snagged at the delicate white lace of her gown.

She blinked in confusion as her hair shifted around her shoulders. It had been coiffed to perfection, hadn’t it?

The last thing she remembered was dancing with the Captain of the Guard at her coming out ball…

But then the memories started to filter in.

The windows shattering and covering the entire ballroom with coloured glass.

Dozens of figures in black cloaks almost floating across the floor as they overtook the room. One, wearing a robe edged in gold, pushing through the main doors and making their way directly towards her. A hand flashing out to freeze everyone else where they stood. Her parents eyes darting frantically between them as they met in the middle of the room, Graham’s sword frozen in place, half drawn in her defence.

Her own magic sparking to life in her palms. And then…

Powder blown in her face, making her stumble and sway before her eyes fell closed and she hit the floor.

That was why the hard bench hurt so much.

She swung her feet to the floor, drawing them back from the cold stone with a hiss at the feeling of ice-cold stone beneath her feet. Her shoes had been removed, as had several layers of petticoats, causing the layers of skirt to tangle around her legs and making the material far too long. It was now nothing more than a cumbersome mess rather than an elegant sweep of fabric.

It was then, too, that she noticed the jangle of chains, connecting her feet to one end of the bench and her wrists to the other.

The echo of footsteps started to float through the air towards her, but she couldn’t tell from where.

She sat up on the bench as best she could, and concentrated on finding her magic so that she could free herself and get out of here before the men in cloaks- because she couldn’t imagine who else would be walking down here right now- came back.

But nothing happened.

She couldn’t feel anything more than an itch under her skin.

The footsteps got louder, closer, and Emma started to yank frantically at the chains.

With the nearing footsteps came a glow of light, illuminating a long rocky corridor with moisture glistening on the walls. It crept closer, highlighting the uneven walls and the hoods of the cloaks that bobbed as the people contained within walked.

She could feel panic start to rise in her chest, pushing away the remaining fog from the enchanted sleep the powder had put her into.

The light flickered and danced, torches held above the heads of the procession.

“What is the meaning of this?” Emma snapped as the figures started to surround her.

The figure in the gold-trimmed cloak walked right up to her, his face shadowed from view, but his hand reached out, fingers pale and cold as they clasped her chin, turning her face this way and that.

“Yes, the Demon we seek should be very pleased with you, Princess,” he said, his voice as cold as his fingers. “It will be a delight to watch him devour your virgin soul in return for the resurrection of the Dark One.”

Emma’s eyes widened in horror. She’d heard tales of the Dark One her whole life. Everything she knew about magic cast him as the cautionary tale in how high a price it required. She’d heard, too, about the cult that had sprung up in his absence, the men obsessed with returning Darkness to the realm.

“No!” she cried, pulling her face out of his grip and struggling against the chains once more, doing her best to summon her magic but only feeling a fire start to burn under her skin which made her cry out in pain.

“Your magic will do you no good down here. There is too much darkness, no true light can survive. Not for long, anyway.”

He flicked his hand at the chains, which released themselves from the bench. The ones attached to her ankles formed a shorter chain between them that would allow her to walk. The ones around her wrists snaked up over her shoulders and met around her neck.

The man pulled her to her feet by yanking on her arm which tightened the chain around her neck noticeably as she struggled to stand.

“You will walk.”

Emma scoffed. “To willingly assist you in returning Darkness to this realm? Never.”

Another twist of his hand and the chain between her wrists started to shrink, drawing her hands up towards her throat. The chain tightened around her neck, making her choke as she struggled to breathe. She could feel her eyes starting to bulge. Emma sank to her knees, clawing at her neck, and shivering even more as her head swam with dizziness.

Suddenly, the chains lengthened and she could breathe again.

“Do as you are told, and I’ll make this relatively painless. And the Dark One might even spare your kingdom for your assistance in his return. Get up.”

Emma realised that there was no way to fight this, not now. She would have to wait.

She struggled to stand. The long skirt of her dress, now wet with the damp filth from the floor, was heavy in her hands as she lifted it to allow her to walk.

Hands closed around her upper arms, guiding her through the torchlit gloom, preventing her from slipping on the slick ground.

They entered a chamber, rocky walls painted black with gold symbols, the same as adorned the hem of the golden edged cloak.

In the centre was a large stone altar, and Emma found herself lifted onto it, the chains at her wrists and ankles moving as commanded to secure her to it.

She struggled and cried out in protest but there was nothing to be done. The chill of the stone crept into her body. She could feel it sapping her strength and making it harder to concentrate on fighting what was being done, stealing away the hope in her heart.

All her parents had done to train her to protect herself, and… it was all she could do to lay there. Like the pathetic damsel in the stories princes and knights loved to tell.

Despair joined the fear encasing her heart as the cultists moved around her, painting more symbols on the floor.

Emma’s eyes flicked frantically around her, looking for anything to help her escape.

The cult leader arranged her dress- making the sleeves lie perfectly around the chains- splayed her hair around her head in a fan of gold, and smoothed down the wrinkles in the dirtied lace. Every time she tried to move the chains tightened a little more. He rounded the altar and stood by her head, drawing from the depths of his cloak a distinctive dagger, the edge curving wickedly like waves and held it over her body. He started to chant and she struggled against the chains until she couldn’t hold back the tears of pain any longer.

She let them fall, the heat of them almost burning her cold skin as she let out one desperate whisper as she closed her eyes.

“Please, help me.”

Emma didn’t know who she was asking or what the chanting around her meant. All she knew was that as much as she thrived on being able to save herself most of the time, she couldn’t help herself this time and her parents wouldn’t have any idea where she was. They’d been trying to rid the realm of the cult of the Dark One for years and they’d never found them. It was most unlikely they’d be able to do so now, even with the added motivation of finding her. They could still be frozen in the ballroom for all she knew.

She felt the soft, hot tracks of her tears across her face before they splashed on the stone.

Blinding pain radiated up her arms as knives sliced into her skin, burning as blood started to pour into the grooves on the table, staining her dress immediately as the tears, too, turned into a flood.

Emma screamed in agony and defiance.

But through the pain she felt a soft weight on her head and at her waist, a warmth gently passing over her hair.

“Fear not, My Queen. All will be well,” a voice like liquid velvet intoned softly next to her ear.

Her head started to swim as the blood drained out of her body, but with each weakening heartbeat, the hand on her head and at her waist felt more real.

“Can’t save…” she whispered back, shaking her head. “Dark One…” she tried again, needing him to understand.

“Isn’t that why you called on me?” the voice replied, and now she could feel breath across her shoulder and cheek as he spoke.

Emma forced her eyes to open and she looked up into brilliant blue fire. They were his eyes, of course, but in her drowsy state she could have sworn they danced with real fire. His gaze filled her with warmth, and she blinked lazily as she smiled up at him. She’d never looked into a face like his before and she found herself immediately entranced by his dark beauty.

The chanting stopped, and cries of joy rang against the walls instead.

“Who are you?” she breathed, as he wiped the tears from her cheeks with fingers that almost burned her skin with their heat.

“Foul Demon, I have summoned you…”

The demon, Emma now had the wherewithal to notice the horns poking out of the top of his head, looked up at the cultist still holding the knife over Emma’s head.

“Who summoned?” he asked coldly, and Emma felt his thumb ghosting over the wound on one of her arms, could feel warmth creeping back into her limbs as her heart started to beat a little surer once more.

“We cast the spell, we sacrificed…”

“I think you’ll find it’s her blood on the table, but interestingly, it wasn’t that which summoned me.”

“I command you to resurrect the Dark One in exchange for this sacrificed soul!”

The demon sighed and looked down at Emma. “I’m sorry, My Queen. Explaining this gross incompetence might take a moment,” he told her apologetically.

“Can’t go anywhere…” She breathed sleepily.

The demon grinned roguishly, and with four deft flicks of his clawed fingers he shattered the chains holding her down, but Emma still didn't have the strength to move. The demon sat down on the altar beside her, his fingers now trailing over the wound on her other arm and healing that one, too.

“Now, I’ve seen some truly ridiculous cults in my time, but you lot? You really do take the biscuit,” he drawled. “Firstly, this altar accepts any liquid, and you let her cry, which hit the table before her blood. So. As you were intending to use the blood, she used her own tears to summon me. Secondly, if you’d wanted her blood to work you had to partake of it somehow, because even if her blood had worked to summon the demon you intended to summon, she’d still have had control over it. Lastly, and most importantly, you’ve ended up saddled with the demon responsible for condemning the Dark One to the deepest, darkest depths of hell where his mortal soul will face its darkest fears for eternity. So… do you really think I’m going to be the one to let him out? All in all, you’ve gone and fucked this up royally…” He glanced down at Emma and grinned. “With a very pretty royal, too,” he added, and she shivered as his eyes looked her over and part of her wished she had the strength to do something to hide herself. But then his gaze flicked back to the cult leader and darkened with anger once more, his casual, instructive tone fading into menacing darkness. “So, while I appreciate the effort to find me such a delectable offering, I’m afraid… You’ve hurt My Queen…”

Emma watched as demonic darkness overtook his features. His skin turned red and his eyes turned to flame and the reality of the world around them seemed to crack as he rose to his feet, growing in height, muscles bulging, forked tail whipping back and forth in anger as a language of darkness rolled off now black lips and tongue. The long coat he wore furled out into enormous black wings which sliced the two closest cultists in half, exposing his muscled chest and drawing her gaze despite her predicament. Flame speared out of previously nonexistent slices in the very air, wrapping around the cultists and setting them aflame as he sat up and grabbed the cult leader around the throat.

“So I’m afraid it’s your souls I’ll be consuming in her name.”

The man seemed to burn alive from the inside, screaming in agony until he exploded in a shower of embers that made Emma flinch.

The demon turned back to her, his features fading back to the handsome, tempting human she’d first seen when she’d opened her eyes.

She felt a sob of relief, of gratitude rising in her chest despite the fact that she was now slightly terrified of her saviour.

He settled himself back on the side of the altar and pulled her to him, cradling the back of her head and running his hand up and down her spine, his warmth seeping into her and bringing her back to shivering rather than weakly numb with the cold.

“Fear not, My Queen. You are safe now,” he said, soothingly.

For some reason, Emma believed him, and allowed herself to sob into his shoulder as she let the fear that had plagued her since the moment the windows in the ballroom shatter subside.

“What’s your name?” she asked quietly.

The demon seemed to stiffen in surprise.

“Demon or not,” Emma reasoned as she pulled back, “I should like to know the name of my rescuer so that he may be properly acknowledged.”

The demon looked suddenly unsure of himself.

“You may not think so kindly of me in a few moments,” he replied, sounding almost sad about it.

“You were part of the vanquishing of the Dark One, and you just saved me from helping bring him back,” she pressed.

“Aye,” he replied, his voice strained.

“There are conditions to your summoning that I am unaware of,” she replied. It was a statement, not a question and he nodded in confirmation.

“The altar may not be fussy, but I’m afraid Demonic Law is,” he replied carefully.

“You still need blood.” He nodded again but she sensed there was more. “My blood.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied again. And despite his being a demon, she believed him.

“So I still have to die?” she asked, shrinking back from him a little.

“Ay…” The response had been on the tip of his tongue, but he suddenly pulled back, rising to his feet and pacing.

Emma watched him curiously as he muttered to himself, reciting something in the dark tongue she’d heard him use before. The way his lips curled around the words made her squirm a little on the cold stone and she shivered once again, the absence of his heat allowing the chill of the stone to creep back into her bones.

“Apologies, My Queen,” he said briskly, returning to her side and encouraging her to lean against him.

“Emma,” she said with a sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Princess Emma of Misthaven.”

“Ah, then… I daresay no one is going to like the alternative much better,” he said as his fingers trailed up and down her arm, making her hum in contentment. He smelled amazing, far more appealing than anyone- let alone a demon- had a right to. She let herself breathe it in, getting a little lost in it.

“What is it?” she asked. Her voice sounded dreamy and sultry, even to her own ears.

“Your Highness, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she asked, lifting her head to look into his eyes.

“Make it harder for me to not claim what I am owed without explaining myself first,” he managed to grind out through gritted teeth. There was no anger in his words, only a possessive spark in his eyes as he looked her over.

Emma straightened her spine, her eyes wide and startled as her breath stuttered in her throat. “I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he replied with a warm smile. “The other option to spilling your blood and claiming your soul for hell now, since I have fulfilled the task you summoned me for, is to take an… alternative virgin blood.”

Emma felt her cheeks heat immediately with embarrassment and she looked away.

He hooked his finger under her chin, and looked into her eyes.

“I understand what this would mean in human terms, but you would need to understand this in demonic terms. We would be bound to each other. I would relinquish my immortal calling and live by your side as your protector and… lover… until your soul and your mortal body part ways. At which point, we will return to hell, and you are bound to me for eternity.”

He was being honest, that much she could tell.

“But that isn’t always the case, is it? I mean… don’t demons regularly defile virgins?” she asked hesitantly, not wanting to offend him.

He chuckled, low and deep and it rumbled in his chest making her breath catch.

“It’s complicated. But most cults realise that virgin blood simply means from a vessel that has never been used for a sacrifice before,” he explained.

Emma frowned, looking down at the hands clasped in her lap. “But then… my blood wouldn’t work that way, anyway.”

“Technically, their ritual was not completed so your blood remains viable. I could still just kill you. But Princess, you’re far too lovely to waste on such a thing when I can have you for eternity…” His tone was laced with hunger that made a shiver run down her spine. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her neck again and making goosebumps rise across her skin. “Let me seduce you, My Queen. I promise you won’t be disappointed in the result. We’ll rule your kingdom together, you light magic balancing out my darkness and when we get back to hell you can torture every soul who ever hurt those you care for into madness.”

Even his offer was seductive, and Emma’s eyes slid closed, her head tilting away from his, almost offering him her neck. His forked tongue flicked out to caress the shell of her ear and she gasped, her eyes snapping open as she pulled back just a little. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest.

“I smell good, don’t I? Your body knows what we could have. It’s a rare opportunity. Not everyone can even hope to make this attempt. You are unique, Emma. I can feel your soul calling out to mine and it’s taking everything in me not to claim it.”

She could feel it too, the want, the need to let him have what should have been promised to the prince of another kingdom. Something she should be guarding with more fervour than her own life. But who was there to stop her? There was no other heir to the kingdom, if she died today…

“My kingdom will need an heir,” she found herself muttering.

“Then we’ll give them more than enough to pick from,” he promised without hesitation.

“They’ll be… human?”

“As much as it matters. Like I said, my darkness and your light will create a balance within them. They will likely have magic as you do, and they may be stronger than other humans, live longer, I mean. But… is that such a curse?”

Emma absorbed this. Why she was asking him this, turning this into some kind of negotiation she wasn’t entirely sure, but here they were. She needed to think of her kingdom and not let the need singing in her blood overpower her just yet.

“Tell me your name,” she replied, looking up at him, determinedly.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m not going to agree to eternity with someone who won’t even tell me their name,” she declared, almost haughtily.

“If I tell you my name…?”

Emma held his gaze, and smiled. It was small, almost seductive.

“Then I shall be yours. For eternity.”

“My name is Killian Jones,” he told her, in a way that suggested he hadn’t spoken it aloud in a very long time.

“Be gentle with me, Killian,” she requested, suddenly nervous.

With a groan, Killian hooked a finger under her chin once more and tilted her head up, bringing his lips to meet hers.

Emma felt a rush in the pit of her stomach as the warmth of his lips brushed hers and her eyes slid closed.

His hands moved to cradle her face, holding her exactly where he wanted her as his lips caressed hers, pulling back and changing angles, guiding her as his fingers threaded back into her hair. His lips peppered kisses across her cheek and down onto her neck.

Her eyes snapped open as she gasped at the sensation sparking through her entire body. Her hands curled around the lapels of his now returned coat, soft leather and velvet warm under her palms.

One hand moved around to her back, hand splaying across her spine and pulling her into his lap where she shuddered at the way his warmth seemed to wrap round her. Her own hand moved, threading into his hair, silky and soft and she pulled back a little to look at him again, breathing ragged, chest heaving, before she pulled his lips back to hers, moaning softly as he responded with a groan that made her core clench with need.

She kissed him harder now, taking back a little control and letting instinct take over.

The sticky dampness of her skirt forgotten, pain wiped from her mind, Emma kissed him like her life depended on it. He responded by holding her tighter against him and she could have sworn her skin was burning where the lace of her dress was thinner.

And then she felt calloused fingers on her back, not having noticed that he’d been undoing the delicate buttons down the back of her dress. She gasped as she pulled back to look at him, eyes wide and unsure.

“Don’t back out now, Darling. I don’t think I could restrain myself,” he said, his tone soft but his eyes full of dark promise.

Her core clenched again at his words. “I’m not, I…” she swallowed, trying to gather words that could explain. “Touch me more,” she requested, shyly.

“Gladly.” He grinned back at her.

A sweep of his arm and a twist of his claws tore the encumbrance of the sodden lace from her legs. Winding his other arm around her waist, he lifted her just enough that it slipped from her form and onto the floor, leaving her more exposed in front of a man that she had ever been in her life and she found herself revelling in the thrill of it.

He set her down so that she was straddling his thighs, exposing her and making her flush with excitement and self-consciousness in equal measure. His fingers barely grazed her thigh, but it felt like a spark of magic across her skin.

“More, My Queen?” he asked, and she could hear the smirk in his voice before she even looked up at his face.

The moment she met his gaze, his fingers started a teasing dance across her skin and she couldn’t help but moan, her eyes falling shut and her head falling back into his hand, just waiting to cradle her head.

“Such perfect, delicate skin…” he murmured, watching as his claws raised red lines on her pale flesh, and she whimpered at the hint of pain through the burning pleasure she was already feeling. His hand splayed over her thigh, gripping and squeezing as his other hand slipped down from her neck to continue to unbutton the back of her dress.

“That’s it Darling, let me hear you,” he murmured just before his lips found her neck once more. Kissing down towards her collarbone, his pointed teeth grazed her skin, always followed quickly by the soothing heat of his tongue.

And Emma gladly sang the pleasure of it towards the ceiling of the dim cavern, moans and cries and gasps spilling from her lips until the dance of his fingers ran through the slickness between her legs. Her hand twisted in his hair, making him hiss in pain and growl, delivering a slightly sharper nip to the skin of her shoulder.

“I won’t be able to be gentle with you if you can’t reciprocate, Darling,” he told her, firmly, speaking right into her ear and nipping at her earlobe.

Emma responded with a moan and a roll of her hips that had his fingers brushing that spot again. “Killian, please,” she whimpered.

“Do you really think I’m going to stop?” he questioned with a chuckle. “Oh, Princess, you have no idea just how much I have in store for you.”

“Show me,” she replied breathily.

“As you wish…” That was all he said before his head dipped, his teeth catching the neckline of her dress and twisting his head to tear the lace and the silk chemise from her chest, exposing her corset.

Emma shivered as the cool air of the cavern hit her skin, but the cold didn’t last for long as Killian’s lips found the tops of her breasts, kissing, licking, sucking and nipping as her chest heaved with panted breaths and the fingers below started to caress in earnest.

Her hips rolled into his fingers, her back arched to bring her chest to meet his mouth and the angle caused her corset to slip just enough that the next sweep of Killian’s tongue wrapped around her nipple.

Emma bucked in his arms, and as he growled with want, his assault of pleasure on her body was renewed. He seemed intent to torment her with it, to ensure that she thought of nothing else ever again other than the next time he could put his hands on her body.

With every sweep of his tongue or caress of his fingers, Emma was sure this was it, that it could not get any better. But with every frantic beat of her heart, he proved her wrong. She was babbling incoherently while he murmured encouragements into her skin. Emma didn’t think she would ever tire of hearing his velvety dark voice telling her how beautiful and perfect she was, that she was made for this, for him. He was relentless and determined, and she didn’t care how wanton she might look, all she wanted was for him to keep going, to drive her higher, to…

“Come for your demonic prince, My Queen,” he commanded, his lips just below her ear, pressing a kiss to her pulse point before dropping back to wrap around her nipple, sucking hard as his tongue flicked over it just right.

And then her whole body seemed to freeze in place, stars dancing behind her eyes as her muscles started to tremble and he pulled her more securely into his arms, his lips now caressing her hairline, his murmurs calming, soothing, reassuring.

She let herself breathe into his neck, shallow breaths coming out on satisfied hums as each muscle in her body seemed to relish in the slow drift back from the peak of her pleasure.

“That was…”

“Remarkable to behold, but we’re far from done,” he promised.

“I’m not that naive,” she protested, pulling back to frown up at him. Okay, so she’d never been told details, but animals did the deed, too, and…

“Is that so?” he asked with a raised eyebrow that made her eyes narrow even more. “Then would you like to tell me what I plan on doing with my tongue, next?”

Emma flushed scarlet and dropped his gaze. With a soft chuckle he hooked a finger under her chin once more and made her look into his eyes.

“I’m going to lick your pussy clean, and then I’m going to make a mess of you all over again,” he promised, his hand dropping from her chin to press the fabric of her dress into the wetness still dripping from her.

Emma whimpered, her eyes sliding closed and blushing even harder.

“Fuck, you’re so responsive,” he praised, pressing a kiss to her lips. “It’s intoxicating.”

“Am I?” she murmured back, her lips blindly chasing his for another kiss.

“Let me taste you, Emma,” he replied, nudging her nose with his own before capturing her lips again. His tongue pressed them apart to caress hers and she welcomed him into her mouth with a moan.

“I take it that’s not how you meant?” she queried when he ended the kiss with a soft peck to the tip of her nose.

He shook his head with a salacious grin. “Lie back for me.”

Emma looked over her shoulder at the stained and bloody table before looking back at him.

But it seemed she didn’t even have to voice her discomfort at that idea, and with a roll of his shoulders, the leather vanished from under her fingers and was once again transformed into wings which curled around her and easily took her weight as she sank back into their warmth with a hum of contentment.

The intensity with which he looked down at her was like nothing she’d ever experienced before and it made her blush.

He grinned. It was toothy, and hungry and it was only a moment before he leaned in, pulling the soiled white dress from her body as he kissed his way over each revealed inch of skin. He pushed apart her bare thighs and she squirmed under the heat of his gaze as he licked his lips salaciously before lowering his head, his eyes meeting hers as he brought his tongue to her core.

It was Emma that broke eye contact with him as her back arched with pleasure and her eyes closed with the potency of it. The heat of his tongue was like nothing she’d ever imagined. The graze of his fingers on her thighs was intoxicating. She could feel the vibrations of words she couldn’t hear through the rush of blood in her ears, could feel the hoarseness of her voice increasing with cries that she couldn’t comprehend.

He built her up quicker this time, the feelings so overwhelming she could feel her consciousness wavering. She could feel herself teetering on the brink of an abyss that part of her longed to welcome, but he kept licking, caressing, sucking on her until she came back to herself with another wave of pleasure as he shifted above her. His mouth found hers, kissing her hard and then she became aware of a slight burn and pressure down where his tongue had been.

Her eyes snapped open as she squeaked with the discomfort, building towards pain. “Relax, My Queen, the pain will be over soon,” he purred into her ear. “Let it happen,” he encouraged, his fingers finding her clit once more and making her back arch.

She felt him slip further in, and then something inside her seemed to break and she cried out at the sensation. She didn’t know if it was pain or pleasure in that moment but she had never felt so full.

Above her, he let out a strangled groan, his muscles tense as his eyes fell shut for a moment before they snapped open, burning with blue fire once more.

“Mine,” he growled.

“Yes,” she choked out. “Killian…”

He kissed her again, and started to move. It burned slightly, but with each thrust of his hips the discomfort turned to pleasure and she found herself moving with him, meeting his hips with her own as her legs curled around his waist.

He littered her neck with kisses and nips as she cried out his name into the darkness around them. She embraced the peak of her pleasure once more, fingers tight in his hair, lips sealed against his as she tried to keep herself moving for him, so that he could finally join her.

“This will be a little hot…” he warned as his thrusts sped up, hips stuttering a little before Emma felt a rush of heat inside her. It was strange, but she fell in love with the feeling, knowing she would want more of it before long.

“I feel so…” she started, searching for the right word to convey everything. There would never be anything like this, wrapped in his arms, filled with his seed, feeling his breath across her neck. “Complete,” she settled on.

Killian raised his head and smiled down at her, brushing his nose against hers.

“Incredible,” he murmured, shifting to pull out of her. Emma felt the flood of his spent leave her body and he glanced down, shifting his wings to let the mix of his cum and her blood fall onto the altar. “And now all immortal planes are satisfied, as well as us,” he said, looking back up at her.

With the sweat cooling on her skin, Emma felt suddenly self-conscious and looked away.

“Regretting me already, Princess?”

Emma’s eyes snapped back up to his face, to find disgust starting to settle in his features. She reached up and brushed the tips of her fingers across his brow.

“No, I… I’m sore… and almost naked with a demon, and… I don’t know what to…”

“Your demon,” he corrected, a hint of a smile starting to curve at his lips. “We can be completely naked, if you would prefer? Or maybe you’ll make me wait for a human wedding night to have that final prize?” he teased, making her blush all over again.

“I can’t go back home without a corset. I’m already severely lacking in the rest of my attire,” she reasoned, embracing the chance at levity.

“Well, for the moment, that is a sacrifice I am happy to watch you endure,” he commented, taking a good look, his fingers tracing the edge of her corset.

“You’re incorrigible,” she commented with a sigh. “But I really would like to get out of here if that’s all the same to you.”

“We’ll find you some clothes on the way out.” He offered his hand to help her sit up, gathering her into his arms.

“Just get me out of here, and I can summon something from home,” she said with a smile as she laid her head against his chest.

“As you wish, My Queen,” he replied as he stood from the altar, wings melting back into his leather coat. Shadows curled up around them as the cavern melted away, but even once they were out in the open again, there was no chill strong enough to reach her. Not with her demon by her side.

#captain swan #cssns23 #zaharadessert writes #demon killian #princess emma #art by krystal

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kmomof4 · 1 day

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A Scoundrel... Or a Gentleman? Ch. 5

We are back everyone!!! I've been waiting for this chapter for several reasons and I so hope you enjoy it! Thank you again for coming along on this journey with me! It means more than I can say!

Thank you as well to @jrob64 for all her help in crafting this story and to @snowbellewells and @motherkatereloyshipper for the artwork they made to accompany it!! Love all you ladies to bits!!!

Words: Almost 6300 of approx 59,5K

Rating: M (smut in later chs)

Tags: Regency Romance, Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton's Story, Smut in Later Chapters.

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Chapter

On Tumblr Prologue Ch2 Ch3 Ch4

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615 @donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings @booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza @djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90 @suwya

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

The rest of the week passed in a nauseating blur of flowers, candy, and badly recited poetry by lovesick suitors. It was enough to make Killian want to vomit. Preferably on the lovesick suitors.

Emma was apparently putting all the young debutantes to shame. Her number of suitors may not actually be doubling every day, but it certainly felt like they were, as Killian had had to remove himself from Kilmartin House each day to keep from constantly tripping over the latest besotted fool.

And God above, could not a one of them conceive an original thought? Of course they all made mention of her eyes, but was there anyone with an ounce of creativity in their brains that they might compare them to something other than the green grass of Hyde Park? If anyone had bothered to really look at the color of her eyes, they would clearly see they were a shade all their own. And their hue would change based on her mood - the sparkling green of an emerald when she was happy or laughing, or a more muted jade when she was melancholy.

And everything was worsened by the memory of his conversation with Will.

Marriage to Emma.

Marriage. To Emma.

He’d never really allowed himself to consider it. But now it gripped him with a fever and intensity that burned as hot as his love for her ever had.

And Will knew.

Of course he knew. Will may not have known for sure when he first made the suggestion, but there had been no way for Killian to effectively hide everything that went through his head at the suggestion. Will was shrewd and nobody’s fool, so there was no doubt in his mind that Emma’s brother would have accurately deduced his feelings just from his utterly flabbergasted response. The question now was, would he tell Emma?

It was something his mind wouldn’t let go of - like a dog with a bone, gnawing at every side - even as he stood watching her on the dance floor at the Fisher ball a week after the original conversation.

“She looks very beautiful tonight, doesn’t she?”

A soft smile touched his lips when he heard his mother’s words.

“Doesn’t she, Killian?” she repeated, when he didn’t answer right away.

“Of course,” he replied quickly. Hopefully quickly enough that she’d think he was simply being polite.

“Green suits her.”

Everything suited Emma, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud to his mother. The deep green velvet she wore, coupled with her golden tresses, made her look like a rare and sparkling jewel.

“You should dance with her.”

He cleared his throat and took another sip of champagne before speaking. “Oh, I will,” he assured her. “After I finish my drink.” Even if the only thing he wanted to do was march right over to her and forcibly remove her from the arms of the latest gentleman dancing with her.

Alice huffed. “Her dance card will surely be filled by then. You should go now.”

Killian gave her his signature smirk, designed to make her forget whatever she was fixated on at the moment, and set his glass down on a nearby table.

“Now why would I do that,” he said, gallantly with a deep bow, “when I can dance with you instead?”

Her expression changed quickly to amusement. “You rascal.” But she didn’t protest when he led her out to the floor.

He knew he’d pay for this tomorrow. The society matrons were already circling him for the kill, and there was nothing they loved better than a rake who doted upon his mother.

The dance was lively, which left little room for conversation, but he still managed to keep Emma in his sights. Until the end of the dance, when he was forced to make one final turn away from her.

And when he turned back, she was gone. Technically, it was possible she’d excused herself to the ladies retiring room, but as he knew she’d done that only twenty minutes earlier, it seemed unlikely. He finished his dance with his mother, bade her farewell with a deep bow, then made his way to the north side of the room, where he’d last seen Emma.

As he got closer, he noticed tall French doors, probably leading to the gardens, closed and curtained. It was not terribly surprising as it was only early April and not warm enough yet to keep the doors open. But he was still suspicious. He’d spent far too much time out in gardens himself with various women to not be fully aware of what could happen in the dark of the night.

He slipped outside. As soon as the door shut behind him, the sounds of the music and three hundred bodies dancing and talking and laughing inside were muted.

Then, he heard her voice. She sounded happy, absolutely content to be in the company of whoever had brought her out here and the thought felt like a punch to his solar plexus. He should leave. Emma wouldn’t want him here. But he couldn’t bring his feet to move.

He’d never spied on Emma with Liam. If he’d ever stumbled across them during a private conversation, he’d removed himself immediately. But now, something was different. And he couldn’t explain why. But he couldn’t make himself leave.

Just one more minute, he told himself. Just one more to make sure she really was enjoying the man’s company and was not in a dangerous situation.

“No, no.”

Emma’s voice.

His ears pricked up. She didn’t sound upset, but she was saying no. Of course, she could just be responding to some tidbit of gossip or laughing at a joke.

“I really must… No!”

And that was all it took for Killian to move.

~*~*~

Emma knew she shouldn’t have gone out on the terrace alone with Sir Walsh, but as a widow, she wasn’t subject to the same rules as the debutantes and she was a trifle warm inside, so the cool night air was welcome.

It had been perfectly pleasant for the first few minutes. Sir Walsh had made her laugh and made her feel beautiful, and oh! how hard was it to admit that she missed that? Was it so bad to want to feel beautiful and desired?

Maybe they were all only after her notorious double dowry, or maybe they were seeking an alliance with two of the more well-known and powerful families of the ton - Emma was a Nolan and a Jones, after all. But for this one evening, she was going to pretend that it was all about her.

But then Sir Walsh had stepped closer. She moved back a step as subtly as she could, but he took another step in her direction. Then another. And another. And before she knew it, she was pressed back against the trunk of a large tree and Sir Walsh was much too close with both hands on the bark on either side of her head.

“Sir Walsh,” she began, as politely as she could. “I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding. I’d like to return to the party now.” She kept her voice light, not wanting to provoke anything.

“Now, why would you want to do that?” he murmured, his head dipping closer to hers.

“No, no,” she protested, ducking to the side to avoid him, “People will be missing me.” Dash it all. He wasn’t backing up. She was going to have to stamp on his foot, or worse, unman him in the manner her brothers had shown her when she was but a green girl. “Sir Walsh,” she tried one more time for civility, “I really must…”

And then his mouth, wet and insistent, and not at all welcome, crashed against hers.

“... NO!” she managed to squeal.

But he was quite determined and was much stronger than she gave him credit for. She twisted and turned trying to position herself so she could bring her knee up where it would hurt him the most, but before she could, he was gone.

“Oh!” The surprised sound burst from her. There was a whoosh, the sickening sound of knuckles on flesh, and a cry of pain the likes of which she’d never heard. By the time Emma realized what was going on, Sir Walsh was on the ground and a large man loomed over him, his boot planted firmly on Sir Walsh’s chest.

“Killian?” Emma asked, unable to believe what she was seeing.

“Say the word,” Killian said, in a voice that she’d never heard cross his lips. A voice she’d never dreamed he possessed, “and I will crush his ribs.”

“No!” Emma said quickly. She may not have felt the least bit guilty about kneeing the man between the legs, but she didn’t want Killian to kill him.

And from the look on his face, she knew that he would. And not think twice about it.

She moved quickly toward him and touched his arm. He looked at her, a feral gleam in his eye and Emma caught her breath. “Could we just, perhaps, ask him to leave?”

Killian continued to stare at her. Hard. With an intensity that made it difficult for her to breathe. He ground down on Sir Walsh’s chest just a little bit harder, enough to make the man grunt in pain.

“Are you quite certain?” he asked, his voice still low and full of fury.

“Yes,” she said, “there’s no need to hurt him. I shouldn’t have come out here with him.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t give him leave to force his attentions on you.” His voice was harsh, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of her behavior or Sir Walsh’s. Killian suddenly removed his foot from the man’s chest and hauled him up by the lapels of his jacket, pressing him against the tree he’d trapped her against, then moving in close until they were nose to nose.

“Doesn’t feel so good to be trapped, now does it?” he taunted. Sir Walsh remained silent, just staring at Killian in terror. “Do you have something to say to the lady?” Sir Walsh shook his head no and Killian shook him before slamming him back against the tree. “Think harder!” he roared.

“I’m sorry!” Sir Walsh squealed.

Rather like a girl, Emma thought. She knew she wasn’t really interested in marrying him, much less bear his child, but this just confirmed it.

But Killian wasn’t finished with him yet. “If you ever come within ten feet of Lady Kilmartin again, I will personally disembowel you.”

Even Emma flinched at his words.

“Do I make myself clear?” he growled.

Another squeak of acknowledgement and Sir Walsh sounded like he might cry.

“Get out of my sight,” Killian said, all but throwing the terrified man away from him. “And don’t let me see your face in London for at least a month.” Sir Walsh got to his feet, his face pale with shock. “Unless, of course, you want to meet me at dawn.” Killian shrugged an insolent shoulder, but the gleam in his eye and the smile on his face told her that he’d like nothing better than to meet Sir Walsh on the dueling field.

Emma realized she was holding her breath. Killian was terrifying. And magnificent. And it was a true shock to realize that she’d never imagined Killian had this in him. That he could be like this.

Sir Walsh ran away as fast as he could, heading across the lawn to the back gate and leaving her alone with Killian. And leaving her, for the first time since she’d known him, without a thing to say.

Except perhaps, “I’m sorry.”

Killian turned sharply back to her. “Don’t apologize.”

“No, of course not,” she agreed. “I should have known better.”

“He should have known better,” he bit out.

It was true and Emma’s mouth shut with a snap. It wouldn’t do to feed his anger any further. She’d never seen him like this. Truly, she’d never seen anyone like this. So angry that they looked like they might shatter at the slightest touch. As he’d dealt with Sir Walsh, she’d thought he was out of control, but she now realized the opposite was true. He was holding on to his control with both hands, and perhaps his teeth as well. If he wasn’t, Emma was quite sure, Sir Walsh would be dead.

Emma opened her mouth again, but found she still didn’t have anything to say. She could do nothing but stare at the man that she thought she knew so well.

There was something spellbinding in the moment and she couldn’t look away from him. He was breathing hard, struggling mightily to keep his rage under control, but his eyes were far away, as if he wasn’t really there.

“Killian?” she asked in a whisper.

No response.

“Killian?” she tried again, this time lightly touching him on the arm. He flinched and whipped around toward her so quickly that she stumbled backwards.

“What?” he snapped.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head sharply. She didn’t know what she meant to say, but the look on his face left her shaken. And desiring something comforting and familiar, which at the moment, Killian was not. “I’d like to go home please.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll make your apologies inside. Would you like me to escort you through the back gate or the ballroom?”

“The back gate please. I’ll send the carriage back for you and Alice.” The words were formal and necessary to keep her mind away from what all had transpired. He led her toward the gate, his hand on the small of her back, burning through her gown the entire way. When they arrived at the carriage, a thought suddenly occurred to her.

“How did you know I was in the garden?” she inquired. He didn’t answer right away, but his gaze was intense on her and Emma caught her breath. “Were you watching me?”

His expression didn’t change a whit. “I’m always watching you.”

She had nothing to say and climbed into the carriage. But she knew his words would keep her awake long into the night.

~*~*~

Three hours later Emma still lay awake. Alice had returned some time earlier and had informed Emma that Killian was spending time at his club before returning home. Emma wasn’t prepared for the despair that rolled over her at her mother-in-law’s words.

He was avoiding her. When he’d saved her earlier this evening, he was every bit the dashing romantic hero she secretly swooned over in the latest novel. But by the time she left the party, she had the distinct impression that Killian wanted to get away from her. No matter his last words to her. That his heroism was nothing more than something that he had to do, rather than something he wanted to do.

And even worse, that while she thought of him as a cherished friend and her closest confidant, she was nothing of the sort to him. Nothing more than someone whose presence he endured.

And that hurt. To the very depths of her soul.

She finally heard the carriage roll up outside, then the front door open and close. He was home. And the evening could now officially end. She should at least try to sleep. Perhaps listen for a moment at their adjoining doors. She had no idea what she’d be listening for, but something had changed between them tonight and it left Emma feeling unsettled. Perhaps listening to him ready himself for bed would settle her nerves, help her convince herself that everything was fine between them.

But when she heard his boots on the stairs, she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t thinking, she was only moving. To the door of her chamber and out into the hall, her bare feet making hardly a sound on the carpet runner. He stopped when he saw her, surprised, and Emma caught her breath. He was literally breathtaking in the pale glow of the moonlight spilling through the window at the end of the passage.

He looked completely exhausted, but his blue eyes still glowed in the night and his dark hair was tousled over his forehead, inviting her to brush it back into place with her fingers. He was utterly beautiful and she was suddenly conscious of it, almost as a physical caress against her skin.

“Emma,” he said, wearily.

And she, of course, stood there like a fish out of water, gaping at him and not saying a word.

“Emma?”

She shook herself. “K-Killian…” she stammered. “Good… good evening.”

He just stared at her, his eyebrow rising in inquiry.

She took a deep breath and tried again. “I… I just wanted… to see if you were alright.”

A weary sigh left his lips. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“I didn’t thank you earlier,” she said, the words bursting out of her before she could think about the wisdom of that statement.

“For what?”

“For coming to my aid.” She would have thought it was obvious, but maybe he was just too tired to really think about it. “I would have defended myself…” She trailed away when Killian raised a single brow in disbelief. “My brothers showed me how.”

He chuckled and looked down for a moment. “Then I have no doubt you would have rendered him a soprano in moments, had I not intervened.”

“Yes, well, I do appreciate not having to, ahh…” She was blushing. God above, she hated it when she blushed.

“Knee him in the bollocks?” Killian supplied helpfully, the corner of his mouth lifted in a mocking smile.

“Indeed,” she murmured, quite convinced that her cheeks now flamed scarlet, skipping all the shades of pink completely.

“You’re welcome,” he said abruptly. “Now, if you will excuse me.” He moved toward her, but she couldn’t let him go - not yet.

“Wait,” she called, turning around as he approached his bedchamber door.

He sighed, the exhaustion clinging to him like a coat. “Yes?” But she could think of nothing to say. He huffed in exasperation. “Can it wait until morning?”

“No! Wait! Please!” And this time she moved toward him and grabbed his arm. He froze. “Why are you so angry with me?” she whispered.

“What?” His confusion was all over his face, and if she hadn’t been so upset and caught up in her own head, she might have found it humorous. He looked at her like he couldn’t believe what she’d just said.

“Why are you so angry with me?” she repeated, a bit stronger this time. Something wasn’t right between them and she had to know why.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered. “I’m not angry with you. I’m merely tired and want to go to bed.”

“You are angry,” she insisted, “I know you are.” And she did. He was quite adept at hiding it, but there was ire in him and it was directed at her.

Killian placed his hand over hers and Emma caught her breath at the heat from his touch. He lifted her hand from his arm and let it drop. “I’m going to bed.”

She was speechless. She watched as he opened his bedchamber door and entered, then shut it behind him.

“No!” she cried. She dashed after him, unthinking, unmindful… right into his bedroom.

If he wasn’t angry with her before, he definitely was now. “What are you doing here?” he barked.

“You can’t just dismiss me like that, Killian!” she protested.

He stared at her. Hard. “You are in my bedchamber, Emma,” he said in a low voice. “I suggest you leave.”

“Not until you tell me what is going on!”

Killian held himself perfectly still. His every muscle frozen. It was truly a blessing, because if he allowed himself to move, he’d lunge for her. And God knew what he’d do when he caught her.

He’d been pushed to the edge. First by Will. Then by Sir Walsh. And now by Emma herself. Standing there, confusion and hurt rolling off of her, and without a bloody clue.

His world had been turned upside down by one simple suggestion.

You could marry her, you know.

It dangled before him like the choicest of fruit in the Garden of Eden. A wicked possibility that shouldn’t have been his to take.

Liam, his conscience reminded him. Don’t forget Liam.

“Emma,” he said, his voice low and even and perfectly controlled. He swallowed hard before he continued. “It is well after midnight. And you are in the bedchamber of a man to whom you are not married. I suggest you leave.”

But she didn’t. She didn’t move. Damn her. She stood there, a vision in her nightdress, her hair loose, staring at him as if she’d never seen him before.

“Why are you angry with me?” she repeated a third time. “Is it because I want to remarry?”

Killian just stared at her dumbfounded. He couldn’t have been more surprised at her words.

“You think I’m betraying Liam’s memory, don’t you?” she accused.

“No, Emma,” he said wearily, scrubbing his hand down his face. “I would never…”

But she wasn’t listening. “You think I should mourn your brother forever. Do you think I don’t? Do you think that I don’t think about him every single day? Do you think it feels good to know that when I do marry, I’ll be making a mockery of the sacrament?”

He looked at her. She was breathing hard, the color high on her cheeks, tears glistening in the corner of her eyes.

“What I had with Liam,” she said, her entire body shaking now, “I am not going to find with any of the men of the ton who have been sending me flowers. And it feels like a desecration - nothing more than utter selfishness that I’m even considering remarrying.” She turned away from him and grasped the edge of his chest of drawers. “If I didn’t want a baby… so damned much.”

She stopped then. He couldn’t move. He should move. He should comfort her. And if they’d been in any other room than his bedchamber, he would have. But it was all he could do to control his breathing. And himself.

“You don’t know,” she whispered. “You just don’t know.”

It was more than he could take. She was the one who barged in here, uninvited, demanding answers, when she didn’t even understand the questions. She pushed him to the limit, and now she was going to turn her back on him and tell him he didn’t know?

He crossed the room on silent feet until he stood mere inches behind her. “Don’t know what?” he demanded softly.

She whirled around. “Killian,” she breathed. She was as still as marble, the only sound her breath feathering over her lips, her eyes never leaving his face.

His fingers tingled, his heart thudded in his chest, his breath stuttered.

His body burned.

She was as close as she’d ever been to him. Her eyes were glazed, her chin slightly lifted making her mouth open gently. If she’d been anyone else, he would have sworn she wanted to be kissed.

The moment was endless.

A whisper crossed his lips, her name, maybe. His head bent toward her and suddenly the impossible became the inevitable. There was no stopping it. He gathered her in his arms and claimed her lips with his own. Sealing his fate… and hers.

When she thought about it later, she could only say that she hadn’t heard him approach from behind. Because if she had, she never would have turned around. But she did turn, his name a whisper of breath.

And he was right there.

So close. Closer than he’d ever stood to her. Closer than anyone but Liam had ever stood to her. And never Killian.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but breathe as she watched him, realizing with awful certainty that she wanted him to kiss her.

Good God. She wanted Killian to kiss her. She wanted Killian.

The knowledge was like a lightning bolt, electrifying her nerve endings and leaving her trembling in anticipation. She wasn’t supposed to want anyone. But Killian…

She waited for him to move. She could do nothing but moisten her lips and wait for him to move. Because she knew when he did, it would be perfection.

And it was.

He claimed her lips with his own and she melted into him. His hand found its way to the small of her back and while he didn’t pull her into him, the barest pressure was there and the distance between them slowly disappeared until she could feel the scrape of his evening clothes through the silk of her dressing gown.

His lips grew more demanding and Emma opened to him, a low moan coming from her as his tongue fully explored the recesses of her mouth. His passion left her weak until she had to grab his arms, to touch him of her own accord, to fully participate in this kiss. To acknowledge that she was a part of this. That she wanted this. That she wanted him.

He murmured her name into her lips, his voice gravelly with desire and need and something more she dared not think about. She could do nothing but cling to him and kiss him as he was kissing her.

Her hands raised to his neck and her fingers buried themselves in the silky soft strands of his hair. His hand moved up her back, trailing fire in its wake, and moved around to her breast. Emma froze, but he was too caught up in his passion to notice. A moan broke from him as he squeezed the tender flesh.

“No,” she whispered.

“Emma,” he moaned again as he trailed kisses up her neck to gently suck at the skin just below her ear.

“Killian,” she begged. “We can’t… I can’t… I can’t do this.” She wrenched herself away from him and opened her eyes, immediately wishing she hadn’t.

His pupils were blown with desire, only the thinnest rim of blue still visible. His hair was even more tousled than it had been and his lips were red and parted. He stared at her, the intensity threatening to consume her.

“I can’t…” she repeated. “I can’t do this…”

“Then go,” he ground out.

She fled to her room. Then the next day, she fled to Number Five.

And the day after that, she fled all the way to Scotland.

~*~*~

Emma had always been a sly one, and she could lie with the best of them when the occasion called for it, but even Killian was rather taken aback at the note full of lies she’d left for his mother when she’d gone to Scotland.

She described the disease spreading amongst the livestock in remarkable detail, all while assuring Alice that it wasn’t necessary for her or for Killian to follow her. She was fully capable of handling the emergency and would return to London just as soon as she could.

His own letter from her was far less wordy and more to the point.

It was wrong of me. Forgive me.

Although what she thought she needed to be forgiven for was quite beyond him. He had kissed her.

Not exactly the kind of behavior he should be engaging in if he wished to keep his true feelings secret. She may have barged into his bedchamber, but she hadn’t done it expecting him to kiss her. She’d been concerned about their friendship. She thought he was angry with her, so she had acted rashly. But only because she cared about him and their relationship.

Was it possible that the reality of her kiss would so completely surpass every fantasy he’d ever had? And with six years worth of dreams behind him, he’d envisioned some truly spectacular kisses. But, yes. Yes, it was possible that his fantasies had been so lacking, it was almost laughable - if he was capable of laughing. And it was over now. Never to be repeated.

So now he was truly miserable. He’d only thought he’d been miserable the last six years. But no. Now that he’d tasted her, and actually experienced the far superior reality, his torment knew no bounds. He knew now exactly what he was missing. He understood with agonizing clarity what would never be his.

And nothing would ever be the same again.

They couldn’t even remain friends after this. Running to a different country in order to avoid him? Hell, he knew Emma. If she could have run to the moon, she would have. A woman couldn’t send a clearer message than that.

He still wasn’t quite sure how it’d happened. When she’d turned away from him, something had snapped in him and he moved. That was when everything between them changed. And then when she’d turned back to him, he was lost. There was no escaping it. The lid he’d kept on his love and desire for her had simply disappeared and there was nothing he could do but fall into her. There had been no choice involved. No free will. She’d simply waited, her stuttered breath the only thing between them. Waited for him to come to his senses and walk away? Or waited for him to kiss her? It didn’t matter. The result was the same.

The floor around his desk was littered with crumpled sheets of paper. He was in a destructive mood and they were easy targets. He grabbed another from the surface of his desk and prepared to do the same when he realized it was an invitation. He looked closer and saw it was for tonight. He inhaled sharply through his teeth. He’d probably answered in the affirmative when it’d arrived, but he was not in the mood to endure an evening of polite company. He crumpled the invitation in his hand and dropped it to the floor with its fellows. He rose from his desk and decided that he’d handle his problems the way he had so often before. By finding himself a woman.

~*~*~

A couple of hours later he found himself at the door of his club in as foul a mood as he’d ever been. He’d visited one of the higher class brothels in town - one that ensured the women were clean and there of their own free will - but had a difficult time deciding on one. Too short, too lean, too blonde, not in the mood for a brunette or redhead. In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to choose. There was no reason to seek out someone who would just leave him feeling emptier inside than he already did.

So now he was here, where he’d be confronted with not a single female, hoping that alcohol would be successful where La Belle had failed. He walked in, but hadn’t even made it to the lounge when he heard his name.

“Kilmartin.”

Will Nolan. Damn, damn, damn! Anyone would have been preferable to a Nolan. Even Napoleon himself.

“Nolan.” He tried to inject a pleasant tone into his voice, but seriously doubted he was successful.

“Join me,” he invited, motioning to the seat across from him. There was no avoiding it. Killian could only hope Will had a pressing engagement that would require their impromptu meeting to be cut short. In about a minute and a half.

Will was silent until Killian’s drink was delivered. “I understand Emma has returned to Scotland.”

Killian grunted and nodded.

“Surprising, isn’t it?” Will mused. “With the season just getting started and all.”

“I don’t pretend to know her mind,” Killian grit out.

“No,” he agreed. “There’s no understanding a female mind. Particularly Emma’s.”

As foul of a mood as he was already in, Will’s words made it even worse. “I seem to remember telling you during our last conversation that Emma deserved respect,” Killian growled. “And I would tolerate nothing less. From anyone.”

The warning in his tone was evident but Will was silent and just continued studying him.

“Have you thought about what I said?” he asked, changing the subject smoothly.

Killian held himself very still. “About what?”

A corner of Will’s lips rose in the beginnings of a smug smile. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing and Killian would have loved nothing better than to punch him.

“About Emma.”

“Didn’t we just confirm that she’s left the country?”

“Scotland isn’t that far,” Will observed.

“Far enough,” Killian muttered. Far enough anyway to make it abundantly clear how she felt about him.

“She’ll be all alone up there,” Will sighed.

Killian just stared at him, narrowing his eyes.

“I still think you should…” Will shrugged, “Well, you know what I think,” he finished.

Killian was done being polite. “You don’t know a damned thing, Nolan,” he growled.

Will raised his brows at the snarl in his voice, but the smirk didn’t disappear. “Funny, I hear that all the time,” he murmured. “Most of the time from my sisters.”

Killian was quite familiar with this tactic. He’d often used it himself. And it was probably why the desire to punch Will in the face was now manifesting in his clenched fist under the table. Nothing had more power to irritate than one’s own behavior showing up in someone else. And Will’s face was tantalizingly close.

“Another drink?” Will asked, motioning to Killian’s empty glass.

“No,” Killian bit out and rose from the table. He may have been happy to drink himself into oblivion, but he was certainly not happy to do it in the presence of Will Nolan.

“You do realize, Kilmartin,” Will said, his voice low and intense, “There’s nothing keeping you from marrying her. Nothing at all. Except of course,” he added, shrugging indifferently, but with his steady gaze not leaving Killian, “what you come up with yourself.”

Killian’s heart ripped in his chest. But he’d grown so used to it, it was a wonder he still noticed. And Will just wouldn’t shut up.

“Now if you don’t want to marry her…”

“She might say no.” His voice was no more than a whisper and damn it all, if Will hadn’t known his feelings for Emma before this conversation, he certainly did now.

Will shrugged again. “She might. Most women do, the first time they’re asked.”

Killian raised a brow. “And you know this how?”

Will’s gaze never wavered from his as he answered, “Oh, just hearing it around the ton.” He waved his arm about, rather aimlessly. “Because I’ve only asked once. And we both know how that turned out.” His grin now was genuine and a bit lovestruck, but seeing the happiness on Will’s face did nothing to improve Killian’s mood. Will’s eyes focused on him again, his gaze open but also calculating. “But speaking of, the wedding is being moved up.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My wedding,” he repeated. “To Belle. We’ve decided to move up the date.”

“To when?”

“Two weeks.”

Will’s gaze still hadn’t wavered, but now there was an amused satisfaction in his eyes that had Killian’s eyes narrowing, even as an idea began to form in his mind. “Emma will need to be informed.”

Will nodded. “Yes, she will. I’d go to her myself, but I’ll be a tad busy the next couple of weeks.”

“You will,” Killian acknowledged. “And your mother will likely be too busy to send a note as well.” Will nodded silently, his dark eyes dancing.

“I’ll go.”

It was the only conclusion to the little dance he and Will were engaged in, however unwilling he was as a participant. Will may have thought he was cleverly manipulating Killian into going after her, but he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t desperately want to follow her to Scotland, and now that he had a reason to, nothing would stop him from doing so.

Will raised his drink in salute as Killian rose from the table.

“Safe travels.”

~*~*~

Several days later, Killian stood at the door of Kilmartin, his childhood home. Spring had yet to arrive in the Scottish highlands and the bite in the air reminded him that this - not London, and certainly not India - was home. No matter how long he’d been away from it. But this sense was little comfort as he prepared himself for what lay ahead.

He had to face Emma.

He’d envisioned it a thousand times during his journey north. Imagining her reaction to him showing up, the words she might say, the words he’d say to her. Besides the message he’d actually been commissioned to bring her.

He was going to marry Emma.

He was going to have to convince her of it, of course. It had taken ten days - ten tremendously difficult days - for him to get his mind wrapped around the prospect since that first cataclysmic conversation with Will. But, that had been because he loved her so completely, and been so thoroughly convinced that she’d never belong to him, it had taken a while for him to accept it as even a remote possibility. Emma felt nothing of the sort for him, and so would undoubtedly see the advantages he was prepared to lay out for their union. She was an imminently sensible woman, and Killian was sure he’d be able to convince her to marry him.

And it would be good. It would be heaven. He may not have her heart, but he’d have the rest of her. And that would be enough.

Wouldn’t it?

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! Next ch will be up late Friday night before I go to bed.

#a scoundrel... or a gentleman?#krystal writes #inspired by francesca bridgerton's story #banner by snowbellewells #ch art by motherkatereloyshipper

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